Read Online Armageddon Heights (a thriller) by D. M. Mitchell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: D. M. Mitchell
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God’s sake, cut the Edinburgh crap, will you?’ Wade snapped, and the man stared at him, swallowed and walked to the rear of the bus grumbling. ‘New Mexico?’ he asked.
The balding man nodded. ‘Sort of. I went on a drive in the desert and this looks pretty much like what I saw there. Except…’
‘Except?’
The man frowned. ‘Except it doesn’t. Some aspects of it do at first glance. This vegetation, such as it is. It reminds me of the stuff I saw over there, but when you look real close it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Like I say, it looks like New Mexico, but that’s as far as I can say. But whichever way you look at it, we can’t be in New Mexico or anywhere else like that, because it’s impossible.’ The man held out his hand. ‘Martin Bolan,’ he said. ‘I’m a travelling rep for an engineering company based in Birmingham.’ He shook Wade’s hand. ‘But I’ve never travelled here before.’ He gave a nervous laugh, ran a hand over his thinning hair. Bolan angled his head, waiting for Wade to divulge his name, which he resisted. ‘Where do you reckon the driver’s gone? Maybe he knows something we don’t.’
Wade offered a barely perceptible shrug. ‘Beats me.’
‘The rest of them are getting jittery,’ said Bolan, casting a thumb in their direction.
‘And you’re not?’ Wade asked, looking the man over. He appeared unusually calm, at least outwardly.
‘Like the guy over there says,’ he said, nodding at the businessman who was standing at the rear of the bus staring into the distance and scuffing up clouds of dust in frustration, ‘there has to be a logical explanation for all this. We can’t all be dreaming the same damn nightmare at the same time, can we?’
Wade thought about it. Went over to the rest of the group who were huddled close together as if for protection.
‘Are you in charge here?’ It was the woman who Wade noticed had been sitting alone reading her Country Life magazine. She came up to Wade and stared him in the face, searching his eyes as if trying to dredge up an answer.
‘No, sorry. I’m not in charge.’
The others came forward to stand before Wade at the sound of her voice.
‘Well someone somewhere must be in charge,’ she said. ‘What are we going to do?’
He licked his lips and wiped sweat from his forehead. The heat was quite intense, even hotter than the weather he’d experienced deployed in the Middle East. ‘My thinking is that everyone gets back on the coach out of this sunshine until we figure out what to do.’
To his surprise the group stopped their frantic murmuring and began to file back on the coach. The businessman’s partner stared at them from her lonely seat, eyes wide and looking like a petrified deer.
Wade bent low, searching the edge of the road.
‘What are you looking for?’ Bolan said.
‘Tracks.’
‘What kind of tracks?’
‘The bus driver has to be somewhere. Must have headed off into the desert.’
‘Without telling anyone?’
Wade chewed his lower lip in thought. ‘I don’t know, maybe he panicked, left the bus to try and find help. I don’t have any other suggestions, do you?’
Bolan scratched his chin, his finger wiping away sweat from his eyes. ‘It’s blasted hot. He couldn’t have gotten far in this heat, could he?’
‘That’s my thinking.’ He stopped sharp. ‘Look, here’s a set of prints in the sand. Seems he was headed in that direction.’ He pointed towards the blistering heat haze in the far distance.
‘He must be mad,’ said Bolan.
‘Or frightened and desperate. I’m going to see if I can follow them,’ said Wade.
The businessman came up to them, his red face already showing signs of the heat. ‘My mobile phone’s not working. Can’t get a signal. What’s going on? What you found there?’
‘The bus driver’s tracks by the looks of it,’ Bolan answered. ‘My phone’s useless, too. I’ve already tried ringing out.’
‘Could be anybody’s
The balding man nodded. ‘Sort of. I went on a drive in the desert and this looks pretty much like what I saw there. Except…’
‘Except?’
The man frowned. ‘Except it doesn’t. Some aspects of it do at first glance. This vegetation, such as it is. It reminds me of the stuff I saw over there, but when you look real close it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Like I say, it looks like New Mexico, but that’s as far as I can say. But whichever way you look at it, we can’t be in New Mexico or anywhere else like that, because it’s impossible.’ The man held out his hand. ‘Martin Bolan,’ he said. ‘I’m a travelling rep for an engineering company based in Birmingham.’ He shook Wade’s hand. ‘But I’ve never travelled here before.’ He gave a nervous laugh, ran a hand over his thinning hair. Bolan angled his head, waiting for Wade to divulge his name, which he resisted. ‘Where do you reckon the driver’s gone? Maybe he knows something we don’t.’
Wade offered a barely perceptible shrug. ‘Beats me.’
‘The rest of them are getting jittery,’ said Bolan, casting a thumb in their direction.
‘And you’re not?’ Wade asked, looking the man over. He appeared unusually calm, at least outwardly.
‘Like the guy over there says,’ he said, nodding at the businessman who was standing at the rear of the bus staring into the distance and scuffing up clouds of dust in frustration, ‘there has to be a logical explanation for all this. We can’t all be dreaming the same damn nightmare at the same time, can we?’
Wade thought about it. Went over to the rest of the group who were huddled close together as if for protection.
‘Are you in charge here?’ It was the woman who Wade noticed had been sitting alone reading her Country Life magazine. She came up to Wade and stared him in the face, searching his eyes as if trying to dredge up an answer.
‘No, sorry. I’m not in charge.’
The others came forward to stand before Wade at the sound of her voice.
‘Well someone somewhere must be in charge,’ she said. ‘What are we going to do?’
He licked his lips and wiped sweat from his forehead. The heat was quite intense, even hotter than the weather he’d experienced deployed in the Middle East. ‘My thinking is that everyone gets back on the coach out of this sunshine until we figure out what to do.’
To his surprise the group stopped their frantic murmuring and began to file back on the coach. The businessman’s partner stared at them from her lonely seat, eyes wide and looking like a petrified deer.
Wade bent low, searching the edge of the road.
‘What are you looking for?’ Bolan said.
‘Tracks.’
‘What kind of tracks?’
‘The bus driver has to be somewhere. Must have headed off into the desert.’
‘Without telling anyone?’
Wade chewed his lower lip in thought. ‘I don’t know, maybe he panicked, left the bus to try and find help. I don’t have any other suggestions, do you?’
Bolan scratched his chin, his finger wiping away sweat from his eyes. ‘It’s blasted hot. He couldn’t have gotten far in this heat, could he?’
‘That’s my thinking.’ He stopped sharp. ‘Look, here’s a set of prints in the sand. Seems he was headed in that direction.’ He pointed towards the blistering heat haze in the far distance.
‘He must be mad,’ said Bolan.
‘Or frightened and desperate. I’m going to see if I can follow them,’ said Wade.
The businessman came up to them, his red face already showing signs of the heat. ‘My mobile phone’s not working. Can’t get a signal. What’s going on? What you found there?’
‘The bus driver’s tracks by the looks of it,’ Bolan answered. ‘My phone’s useless, too. I’ve already tried ringing out.’
‘Could be anybody’s
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