The Power of Five Oblivion

to talk about it any more. What matters is that we arrived and you brought me here. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”
    The two of them stood facing each other, their breath frosting in the air..
    “There are people coming…” Lohan said.
    It was true. There were half a dozen of them, identically dressed in white padded anoraks and trousers with balaclavas and goggles, carrying rifles. The clothes camouflaged them against the snow. They took up positions a few metres away, circling them. Their weapons hung over their shoulders but they were poised and watchful, ready to bring them round at any time.
    “Where have you come from?” one of them shouted. He hadn’t taken off his face covering and his voice was muffled. He spoke English with an American accent.
    “From South America,” Lohan replied.
    “Why are you here?”
    “To fight the Old Ones.”
    The leader examined them briefly. What must he be thinking – an Asian man and a Western teenager, emerging alone from a Brazilian plane? “Do you have ID?”
    Lohan looked at him scornfully. “What use is ID any more? We escaped from a prison camp in Brazil. We’re here to fight with you. Maybe you could make us feel a little more welcome.”
    The man nodded slowly, then gestured at the plane. “Have you got any supplies with you? Food? Weapons? How are you for fuel?”
    “We stole the plane,” Lohan said. “We have about a quarter of a tank but there wasn’t much on board. We found a few clothes. There are a couple of crates of brandy. But that’s all.”
    “We’ll appreciate the fuel. And the brandy. We can take a look later.” He came to a decision. “My name’s Greyson. Welcome to Oblivion. Right now you need to meet the commander. Come with us.”
    The commander. Matt wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that but he had no choice but to follow the group back towards the encampment that stood close to the cliff edge. At the same time, it occurred to him that he had no idea who these people were. The man who called himself Greyson could have been a shape-changer and the others could be … anything. They could have flown straight into a trap. But there wasn’t really anything he could do and at least, if they were being led into danger, they weren’t completely helpless. Lohan had his gun and Matt could feel his own powers returning.
    They walked about fifty metres, following the tracks they had just made in the snow and leaving the Legacy behind them. They were heading for the largest tent at the centre of what was almost a makeshift city. The tent was like something out of a circus, tall and round, a sturdy affair with thick white canvas secured by about forty ropes, pegged into the ice. Dozens of smaller tents and wooden bivouacs huddled all around it and as they drew closer, Matt was aware of faces watching them nervously from behind the flaps. A few fires had been lit on the ice and people were standing over them, boiling kettles or cooking meals in tins. They were wearing a variety of protective gear. Some had fur gloves and hats. There were men as well as women of every age. They nodded in his direction but said nothing as he went past.
    Two armed guards were standing at the entrance but they recognized Greyson and stood aside. Matt and Lohan followed him in, glad to be out of the cold. They saw at once that there were stoves burning in the tent. The air was warm and smelled of aviation fuel, which must have been used to keep the fires alight. The ground was carpeted. Trestle tables had been set up in long lines … a hundred people or more could have met here at any one time, and there were blackboards and white screens set up for presentations. As they entered, Matt saw a group of about twenty men and women, the majority of them in uniform, sitting together, deep in discussion. Their heads turned as Matt and Lohan walked towards them. At the same time, the white-suited men were removing their headgear. “We have two new arrivals,” Greyson said.
    “Matt!”
    Matt heard his name called and looked in astonishment and delight as Richard Cole leapt up from the table and hurried towards him. Richard was dressed in a thick jersey and trousers, which he must have borrowed – they looked too neat for him – and his hair had been cut shorter. He was grinning from ear to ear, ignoring everyone around him. There was a moment of awkwardness as the two of them faced each other, then they fell into each other’s arms.
    “I can’t