Torchwood: Exodus Code

hurts me,’ she sobbed, her breath catching in her throat.
    ‘Sit there,’ Isela said, pointing to a long red velvet couch in front of a wall of cloth-bound books. Isela stroked her mother’s palm, calming her immediately.
    Jack sat on the couch and studied the woman in the bed. She was painfully thin, but her beauty and sensuality were undeniable. Patches of her skin were as white as Jack’s and others were as brown as Isela’s, the mottled texture and the uneven tones of her skin only enhancing her radiance. Gaia’s hair was jet black, easily reaching her waist, but it was her eyes that Jack found so mesmerising, so enchanting. They were deep midnight black. The longer he stared at this woman – this being on the bed whose spirit was ancient and ageless, prehistoric and primal – the more clearly his memories of the mountain and its power fitted into place, and the more he doubted the success of his plan.
    Jack had got some of it terribly wrong.

70
    Swansea, same day
    RHYS LEANED OVER Anwen’s cot, tucked her in, settling her stuffed bear close to her side. He kissed his finger and touched it to Anwen’s heart, and for a while he stayed in that position staring at the wonder of his daughter until she snuffled, rolled onto her side, and high-kicked her blanket to the bottom of the crib.
    Rhys smiled, lifting out the blanket. ‘You’ve definitely got your mum’s legs.’
    Downstairs, he switched on the TV news, and stared at the footage of the tower of water shooting into the heavens. The scaffolding enveloping it looked as if an oil rig had been constructed around it, lights blazing from the navy ships, making it easy to watch the tower of rock slowly but surely engulfing the entire jet stream. The press, the crazies, and the curious had all stayed bobbing out there in the sea, as they had at the other geysers, despite most governments asking those closest to the chimneys to evacuate further inland.
    And somewhere out there, Jack and Gwen were fighting to right the world.
    Rhys sat down on the sofa, and prayed that the morning would come.

71
    Southern Peru, same day
    STANDING ON THE wide porch of the hacienda with his gun over his shoulder, smoking a Cuban cigar, Cash wondered how they were ever going to make it up the mountain given Jack’s deteriorating condition, never mind what he planned to do when he got there.
    Savouring every puff of his cigar, Cash stared out at the Pacific. The late-afternoon sun was lingering over the horizon as if considering whether or not to be swallowed by the coming darkness.
    According to Shelley’s calculations, they had three hours until the vent chimneys would be sealed.
    The climbing procession was organising with little fuss in the foyer when Dana alerted Cash in his earpiece that Captain Anderson’s team were preparing to breach the south wall.
    ‘If you’re going, love,’ she said, ‘I’d say now would be good. Sam and I can hold them off until you get out of the compound.’
    ‘Then what?’ said Cash.
    ‘Then we’ll improvise.’
    Cash waved at Dana, then pinched the end of his cigar, setting the rest of it on the edge of the veranda. ‘I expect everyone to be there when I return.’
    Inside, he told Jack they had to move. Now.
    Gaia insisted that the prophesied ritual be followed to the exact glyph. Dressed in a black suede jumpsuit with padded earmuffs secured under her hood, she and Isela would lead them. After some trial and error, she was able to tolerate Eva more comfortably than any of the others, so Eva was positioned in front along with Isela.
    Jack refused to wear the traditional Cuari tunic. ‘If the world is going to end tonight, I’m going out with my trousers on.’ He sent Vlad to retrieve his coat from the rear gates.
    Jack was unsteady on his feet and close to incoherent for significant chunks of time, so Cash and Hollis decided they were the best equipped to handle him.
    Vlad was travelling with Gwen, who was more than a little wobbly on her feet. All of them, including Isela, carried weapons.
    Twenty minutes into their climb, they reached the steep canyon hiking pass, the trail that centuries ago had been used by the great Inca warriors leading their sacrifices up the mountain.
    Jack’s field of vision looked like a Jackson Pollock painting, dripping with dots and dollops of blinding colours. Snarling voices were screaming in his head and he could hardly walk, his knees crippling him. With Cash and Hollis supporting him on