Chapter 01: Exit, Pursued By A Bee - Page 4

“Run, Kal,” shouted Derek, but the difference between a spaceship designer and her survival skills was the use of her brain. So she scrambled laterally towards brambles that had sheltered in the lee of exposed bedrock, making a natural wall. She threw herself into the prickly Blackthorn just as a small avalanche of limestone blocks rumbled down the path she’d vacated. Sore from the scratches but intact, she crawled through the scrub and over the shaking hillside, zig-zagging until she met up with Derek and Blake sheltering behind a field wall near the base.

The ground vibrated less here but in addition to the crashing of tumbling masonry, shrieks from scared humans, and a cacophony of non-human terrified animals, a deep rumble worried their ears.

Derek shouted: “Are you all right?”

“I’ve been pricked before.”

“Is it an earthquake? You’ve been in them before in the States.”

She sniffed the air. It carried the familiar disturbed earthy odours but not the sulphurous emissions she’d experienced during some quakes in California.

“I doubt it,” she yelled. “I thought you only got tremors in Britain.”

“It’s a volcano,” shouted Blake. “Look at all the smoke.”

Kallandra shook her head but she didn’t want to shout a speech. She pointed downhill to the car park. With arms out to balance like tightrope walkers, they jogged down the lower slopes.

“Seatbelts on, where shall we go?” Derek said, starting the engine.

“Nowhere,” Kallandra said. “I only came back for my other digivideocam. The batteries are gone in the one in my bag.”

“You’re not intending to go back up there?” Derek’s eyebrows disappeared into his blond hair, making Kallandra smile.

“You can take Blake back to town if you want. Although if it’s an earthquake you should stay in the open.”

“But it’s dangerous on the tor, love. Come with us.”

“Most of the tower has fallen, so the worst of the danger is over. Derek, this is too fascinating. I gotta be here, don’t you see that? Anyway, no time for a debate.” She waved and started back up the vibrating hill.

She’d already told herself this was no ordinary earthquake. She’d experienced a few first hand in California, and they didn’t rumble on for ages like this. They come in short bursts, only seconds long. Yet the hill was shaking so much she had difficulty keeping her feet. She reached the piece of sandy-coloured limestone bedrock against which she’d first steadied herself, and aimed the digital videocam east, at the distant Glastonbury Festival. She’d expected to see emptying fields as the crowd escaped, but she could see on the distant giant screens, a rock group leaping and twisting as they belted out another musical gem. The crowd vibrated to the resonance of the beat rather than this hill. Swinging the cam around to the west the bulk of the tor hid the small town, but she could see the M5 motorway carrying traffic as normal.