0: Hunter

THE CREATURE HAD no name. There was nothing like it on Earth.

But tonight it would show everyone what it could really do.

Massive and powerful, the creature smashed a path through the moonlit forest. It tore apart the brushwood, uprooting tall trees that had been standing for hundreds of years. Its night vision gave a blood-red tint to the shadow landscape.

It was hunting.

Supernatural senses had already pierced the skin of its prey, like great invisible fangs. The creature scented hot blood coursing through veins; heard the stroke of limbs brushing together; felt the currents in the air swirling round its victim. With every splintering stride the picture became clearer.

The hunting creature did not know why its target had been chosen for death this night. But killing was something it did exceptionally well.

There. In the forest clearing, in the darkness, its prey was hiding. Keeping stock-still.

As if that might save it.

A triumphant roar built in the hunter’s throat. The undergrowth exploded around it as it flew like a living missile towards its victim, baring gleaming, knife-point teeth …

Less than a second later, the creature held its prey in its snapped-shut jaws.

Mission accomplished.

The perfect kill.

A small group of people were waiting, watching, wondering, as the creature returned. ‘An impressive result,’ said one onlooker softly. ‘We’re ready to move to the next phase.’

The creature sensed the fear and excitement mingling in its audience. It turned away, looking back into the forest – a forest that it might once have called home, far away and long ago.

Then the creature stalked over to the man who had spoken, looming over him. With a flick of its thick tongue, it spat the remains of its victim at his feet.

1: Reality

ADAM ADLAR KICKED DOWN the door and burst into the darkness beyond it. He paused for a moment, marvelling that he felt no pain in his foot, only a pleasing thrill of strength. Then a low growl sounded from the thick shadows ahead of him. Something large had been cooped up in here, something deadly. But Adam knew he could take it. He knew—

‘DIE, INTRUDER!’ A monstrous, twisted figure lunged at him from out of the shadows, its red eyes glinting, its terrifying claws scrabbling for his face. Adam hurled himself under the creature’s arms. With his head tucked down he hit the stone floor on his shoulder, his momentum carrying him into a perfect forward roll that left him back on his feet a moment later. Exulting in his power and agility, he whirled back round and landed a brutal karate chop to the monster’s side, cracking its ribs.

Ignoring the creature’s agonized scream, barely pausing for breath, Adam launched into his favourite fight-moves, which were now as natural to him as breathing: a stomp-kick followed by a jab-cross. He lashed out with his left foot, sending the creature staggering backwards, and followed up with right and left jabs in rapid succession, fists smacking into hard flesh. The monster wasn’t getting back up from that combo.

Every sense wired and buzzing, Adam charged onwards into the gloom and found another door. He booted it, feeling the jolt in his foot, but this time the door didn’t open. He kicked again, and then again even harder, but the door wouldn’t give an inch.

‘Come on!’ he yelled, frustration edging into fear as wet, scraping, slobbering noises started up behind him and the stench of rotten meat filled his nostrils. ‘Dad, this isn’t fair!’ He spun back round, hoping to find another exit from the enemy’s lair before it was too late. A low, gurgling chuckle carried from the dark. Taloned fingers closed round his throat, squeezed tighter, tighter. Adam felt a wave of nausea, a rush of oncoming darkness—

GAME OVER.

And Adam was back on the couch in the testing lab, soaked with sweat and panting for breath, half terrified, half ecstatic. Exiting Ultra-Reality was more like waking from a vivid, incredible dream than quitting a game. For a moment he wasn’t sure which was reality, this windowless industrial unit in New Mexico or the dark, digital lair he’d left behind. But as his racing heart slowed Adam took in the Ultra-Reality console – its staring green bulb extinguished now – and his dad standing over him, carefully pulling the heavy headset from his temples and the sensor pads from his fists and feet.

‘Wow,’ said Adam groggily. ‘That was awesome, the realest ever. You’re a genius, Dad.’

‘C’mon now, take it easy,’ Mr Adlar soothed him in his warm Midwestern accent. ‘Get your breath back.’

‘You are, though.’ Adam wasn’t just being loyal; when the bugs were fixed, he knew that U-R would be the ultimate gaming experience. The console turned thoughts into computer commands, and game codes into things you could feel. Instead of using a controller or waving your arms, you could just think what you wanted a character to do, really become the hero. In an instant, Adam could go from a skinny, dark-haired Edinburgh teen to a blond, muscular monster-slayer, surrounded by admiring girls and sidekicks. And thanks to the sensor pads you could even feel an impression of the impact of blows and footfalls. Ultra-Reality lived up to its name, and completely drew you in.

‘I was following your gameplay on screen.’ His dad looked concerned. ‘What happened with that door you couldn’t open?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Adam. ‘Was it me? Did your favourite test subject mess up?’

‘My only test subject,’ Dad reminded him evenly. ‘The Think-Send technology—’

‘Copyright and trademark, Bill Adlar.’

‘—was modelled on your brainwaves. Right now, the game wouldn’t work at all with anyone else playing it.’

Adam watched his father’s forehead furrow into deep, familiar creases. He remembered that when Mum was still around, his dad seemed always to be smiling. Each new triumph had sent him dancing around the room, playing air guitar till his glasses fell off. Although born in Michigan, he’d gone to Edinburgh to do his post-doctorate in computer science and fallen in love with the place – and with Adam’s mum. They’d started a family there, Mr Adlar had a nice income from dozens of patents, and life must have seemed pretty good.

That was then and this is now, Adam thought. Mum had died four years ago, and Dad had thrown himself ever further into his work perfecting Ultra-Reality. But developing a new games system wasn’t cheap, especially one as groundbreaking as U-R. And since the really big players had passed on it – ‘too ambitious’, they’d said – Mr Adlar had been forced to work with smaller companies. So far, these firms had always run out of funding before he could deliver the goods, and Adam had watched his dad grow greyer and gaunter with each setback.

‘I dunno …’ Adam shrugged. ‘Maybe I didn’t imagine what I wanted to do hard enough?’

Mr Adlar shook his head. ‘I’ll go through the command translator log, see if any glitches jump out at me.’

‘Do you think you’ll be finished before we have to get back to Edinburgh?’ Adam smiled. ‘I mean, if it’s any help, I don’t mind missing the start of school …’

‘We’ve only got the lease on the apartment till the third week of August,’ Mr Adlar murmured. ‘Frankly, I doubt I’ll still be here by then. There was a lot riding on today’s test. If it’s back to the drawing board …’ He forced a smile. ‘Aw, what the hell, it’s not the end of the world. I have other irons in the fire.’

Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean another company’s interested in taking on Ultra-Reality?’

His dad hesitated. ‘Well, in developing some of the key technology, anyway. It’s a research centre called Fort Ponil – someone I used to work with got in touch. They’re fairly local, based outside Los Alamos. We’re meeting this evening with a couple of suits to discuss it.’

‘Oh, right.’ Adam couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘So, I’ve got microwave pizza for one again tonight, huh?’

‘Sorry.’ Mr Adlar ruffled Adam’s hair. ‘But you know, it won’t be for ever.’

Adam was soon outside on his bike in the afternoon glare, pedalling away from the ugly, steel warehouse unit. The asphalt roads shimmered in the heat like dark canals as he made his way back to the apartment, in a soulless, purpose-built modern block just outside the gates to the industrial park. Black Mesa, the vast, flat-topped mountain that straddled three states, loomed darkly over the arid plains beyond the chain-link fences.

The whole high-tech development felt out of place here in the epic wilderness beyond Santa Fe. Most of the buildings in these parts looked old even if they weren’t. He’d even seen petrol stations disguised as ancient Native American monuments, trying to blend in. It felt wrong, somehow, to see industry here on show in all its sharp-angled sleekness. Adam felt a twinge of longing for the rainy skies and blackened sandstone of Scotland – followed immediately by the fear that he might be flying back there alone. He was thirteen now, not a kid, and Dad had made mutterings in the past about sending him to boarding school or to distant relatives in England. Neither option appealed much to Adam, but what could he do? He never had much say in what Dad did.

He gritted his teeth and pedalled faster. Sometimes he wished he could just disappear into a virtual world, where he won all the fights, and just stay there.

Adam spent the night eating pizza and riffling through a bunch of new games for his Xbox. Five weeks here and he still wasn’t comfortable. The second-floor apartment was more like a show-home than somewhere you’d actually live. Lacking in furniture as well as charm, it felt hollow, impersonal. No one else lived in the building, so when Dad was away the loneliness was overwhelming.

Mr Adlar finally made it back after midnight. Adam could tell at once that something interesting had gone down. His dad seemed distracted, a bundle of nervous energy, but he was trying not to show it. That had to mean he was hopeful – Adam knew his dad’s moods better than he knew his own.

‘So, how’d it go?’ asked Adam, switching off the TV.

‘Not much to tell at this stage,’ Mr Adlar said cagily, perching on the edge of the sofa. ‘But there could be. They’re doing amazing things, things you wouldn’t believe …’ He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. ‘The organization’s bigger than I thought. They’ve got facilities all over the world – including one somewhere around Edinburgh.’

‘Yeah?’ Adam perked up. ‘Sounds perfect!’

‘Not exactly. First, I need to find out more about … the project.’ He looked at Adam. ‘You can look after yourself, right, Ad? If I have to leave you on your own for a bit?’

Here we go, thought Adam. ‘Why?’

‘I’ve arranged a leave of absence with my current partners – ’cause if I want to secure a place with these guys, I’ve got to stay at Fort Ponil for a couple of nights. Work on some top-secret stuff. Show how indispensable I can be.’

If it means we can both stay in Edinburgh, I’ll put up with anything, thought Adam. ‘Look, I’m used to your work keeping you tied up for days. I can handle it. I’m big enough.’

‘And ugly enough,’ his dad agreed.

Adam grinned. ‘Plus, it means I can stay up as late as I like. Bring it on!’

‘Bring it on … Right.’ Mr Adlar stared into space. ‘Thanks, Adam. It’ll only be for two or three days, tops.’

Mr Adlar left the next morning in a big black Cadillac sent to collect him. Adam put on a brave face, horsed around, waved his father off. But he didn’t like the look of the car. As it pulled away down the quiet, dust-blown street it reminded him of a hearse.

The sedan disappeared with his dad into the distant mountains, which were glowing blood-red in the morning sun.

2: Destruction

‘DAD!’ ADAM WOKE up from the nightmare, shouting for his father. Then he remembered how things were, and let his head fall back against the pillow. No sense in wasting his breath.

‘Day nine on my own,’ he muttered.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded through the darkened apartment to Dad’s room, unable to resist checking. Maybe he came back in the night, Adam thought. Maybe this time—

The door stood wide open. The bed was empty and unmade. A brown leather briefcase lay where he’d kicked it the night before.

Nothing had changed. Dad still wasn’t back.

Adam went back to his bedroom to work out his next move. It would probably involve playing his Xbox. He hadn’t done much else since Dad had disappeared. He checked the clock. It was five a.m. He must have dozed off around one-thirty, still in his jeans and T-shirt. The High Scores league table filled the widescreen, his name alone listed again and again.

Adam knew his mates back home in Scotland would be jealous of the life he’d been living – his own place, own space, a cookie jar full of cash, an endless supply of delivery food, no nags or hassles or ‘Time for bed’s … But right now, he was sick of freedom.

You’ve got some serious sucking up to me to do when you get back, Dad.

Yawning, Adam crossed to the window. The stars were fading as the first rays of sun warmed up New Mexico, slowly lifting the mountains’ shadows. Then he caught a sudden movement some way off, like a ripple on the air – as if something had just flitted across the sky at impossible speed. He stared hard into the brightening orange of daybreak but didn’t see the movement again.

‘Great,’ Adam murmured. ‘Now I’m losing it.’

He’d started talking to himself a lot since Dad had gone. He’d spent the days gaming, cycling round the lonely industrial park, and bugging his friends back in Edinburgh on Instant Messenger. At least they hadn’t totally forgotten him. And he’d gone to bed each night listening out for his father, hoping to catch the turn of the key and the front door squeaking open. But the night remained stubbornly silent, loaded with uneasy dreams.

Yesterday, for want of something better to do, he’d tried hanging out around Dad’s workplace here in the industrial park. But the team who’d used to joke around with him as their resident ‘test case’ weren’t so friendly now. It turned out that their unit had been broken into a couple of days ago, with tons of gear nicked. And just the next day, Adam’s dad had told them he wouldn’t be coming back to work in the near future.

‘Inventors don’t care about anyone,’ railed one of Dad’s old team. ‘They live in a world of their own.’

At least he bothered to tell you, Adam had thought, instead of leaving you to work it out for yourselves. He could be dead for all I know.

Adam flung himself back onto his bed and switched the TV over to News 24 for some company. The Scottish anchorman was on in the mornings, which made Adam feel a little less homesick. Clearly not much had been happening in the world as all the talk was of a film-star couple breaking up and some rubbish about a giant monster spotted in a state park in southern Utah. Nothing exactly serious.

But what if something serious had happened to his dad?

Mr Adlar had started off calling and emailing as he usually did when he was working away. Then, three days in, a single text message marked the end of all that: Can’t get away. Friends of mine will look in on you soon. Love, Dad.

Adam had been disappointed but not too worried; this wasn’t the first time Dad had become too caught up in his work to talk, feeling himself close to a big breakthrough. It was a pain, but if it led to a contract with these Ponil people back in Edinburgh …

He’d nursed that hopeful thought through days four and five, though Dad’s occasional texts had given little encouragement.

And then Dad’s promised friend had turned up – a guy with the stiff, solid bearing of a soldier or security man. His name was Frank Bateman and he was a large, powerfully built man, formidable looking despite the beer-gut hanging over his waistband. ‘I’m from Fort Ponil. Your dad asked me to look in on you.’ Bateman’s thick moustache bristled above the confident smile, and his all-American voice was as deep as the dimple on his chin. ‘You know, see how you’re doing.’

‘When’s Dad coming home?’ Adam had asked.

‘Real soon.’ Bateman kept smiling.

‘Can’t I come and visit?’

‘We’re actually getting you security clearance right now. Shouldn’t take much longer.’

‘Security clearance?’ Adam frowned. ‘Sounds like the military.’

‘Nothing like that, really.’ Bateman pushed his way inside. ‘Meantime, your dad asked me to pick up some stuff for him.’

The big man spent ages in Mr Adlar’s room, but came out with nothing but a few clothes and a sour look. Then he brought in a stack of groceries from the car, and even unpacked it while Adam watched TV. ‘Don’t eat it all at once, y’hear?’ Bateman held up Adam’s Nokia. ‘Oh, and nice cell phone by the way … I’ve got my eye on one like this.’

‘Yeah, it’s all right,’ said Adam, though in truth it was nothing special. Bateman had put down the phone and left, promising to check in again in a couple of days.

That had been three days ago. ‘Chances are, big Frank’s coming today,’ Adam announced out loud. ‘And if he does, I’ll make him take me to Fort Ponil, security clearance or not. He can drop me in the street if he wants, but I’m going …’

His words sounded stupidly small in the big apartment.

Suddenly a tremor rattled the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Weird, Adam thought. Even the biggest trucks turning into the industrial park didn’t normally shake the place like that.

He crossed to the cupboard to get out a bowl for cereal, and noticed his mobile phone on the counter.

One new message, it said, and the words jolted through Adam like fifty thousand volts. He grabbed the phone, saw his dad’s number, saw the text had been sent almost an hour ago. A mixture of relief and anger washed through him. ‘Nothing at all for ages, then you can’t even be bothered to call and—’

Just as he was about to access the message, the TV switched itself off. Adam frowned. His digital clock had blinked off too. Maybe the tremor had taken out the local power supply. ‘Freakin’ fabulous,’ Adam muttered. ‘That’s really going to make things dull around here …’

Then, as if laughing in his face, the tremor came again, much harder this time. It nearly knocked Adam off his feet. Was it an earthquake? Still holding the phone, he crossed quickly to the big picture-window to check the street outside for damage. The apartment was two storeys up, so if the building was about to collapse …

But as he approached the tinted glass, Adam heard a harsh squeal of brakes. A large, dark car had lurched to a stop outside the entrance to the complex; it looked like the same Cadillac that had taken his dad what seemed like a lifetime ago. Five men in suits scrambled out of the car like their butts were on fire.

One of them was Frank Bateman. He wasn’t smiling now.

Bit early, isn’t it? thought Adam, his heart quickening as he watched Bateman gesture to the other men as though snapping out orders. And why bring so many friends? Uneasy now, he looked back at his phone, called up Dad’s message—

Suddenly the whole building lurched and he was thrown so hard against the window he cracked the pane. He dropped the phone. In a daze, he saw the men outside were pulling guns from their jackets and staring around wildly. They started firing into the air.

Adam caught a glimpse of something dark and hazy, a fleeting shadow on reality. Then, impossibly, with a crushing boom of metal the big black car collapsed in on itself, as if something huge and invisible had slammed onto the roof with colossal force. The men-in-suits fired into the air, looking terrified. Another snatch of shadow-movement and the crushed car went flying, rolling over and over in a suicide spin. It smashed into the entrance to the industrial park, buckling the metal gates, the crash of the impact drowning out the gunfire.

Adam stared down at the sudden carnage, fixed to the spot with fright, trying to make sense of what was happening. What do those men think they’re shooting at?

That same moment, the window shattered over him and the wall spat plaster at his face. Shards of glass fell from Adam’s body and crunched under his trainers as he snatched up the phone and bolted, terrified, to the other side of the apartment. Whether they mean to or not, he thought, they’re shooting at me! He made to dial 999 – no, it’s 911 over here – but hitting the floorboards must’ve jogged the phone’s battery: it had switched itself off. ‘Come on,’ he muttered, stabbing at the ‘on’ button. With the window gone, everything was suddenly so much louder, like the world had turned up its volume control.

Even so, nothing prepared Adam for the roar.

It was like an express train thundering past. A wild, unearthly howl that sent vibrations hurtling through his bones. Total panic took hold. Get out. You’ve got to get away. But the madness down below was all happening outside the front doors; there was no exit that way …

Then Adam remembered the fire escape at the back of the building, an iron zigzag of steps and railings leading down to the ground. He stuffed the phone into his pocket and ran into his dad’s bedroom. It felt like his heart was crawling up his throat. Where was the key to the balcony doors? He fell upon the bedside table, yanked open the drawer and emptied it on the bed – just as the balcony exploded inwards with a boom that nearly burst his eardrums. He threw himself down behind the bed as brick-shrapnel, glass and wood-splinters slashed through the room. Moaning with fear, he yanked the blanket over his head like a shield to deflect the worst of the debris. This whole place is being demolished, he realized. And me with it, if I don’t get out. NOW!

The deadly rain subsided and Adam got back to his feet, shaking and staring. The whole rear wall had been wrenched away, the debris scattered across the street. The fire escape was a twisted relic left dangling like a broken paper-chain. What earthquake had the power to do this?

Then, as the pale morning sun stared in at Adam like a startled eye, a chill jumped through him. That same smoky haze he’d spied before was rippling dead ahead, as if the air itself were flexing its muscles. Scrabbling sounds soon followed, the sound of something hard and heavy-duty gouging out the brickwork downstairs. The gunfire had stopped. Had the men run away or were they …?

Suddenly, with a splintering crash, the bedroom floor started to give way beneath Adam’s feet as more of the storey below was bashed away. Dad’s large pine dresser scraped across the sloping floorboards and went into freefall, thundering onto the asphalt twenty metres below. Adam ran for the door – but too late. The floor tilted sharply and he lost his balance, tumbling headlong with the furniture towards the gaping hole in the wall and the sheer drop beyond.

3: Survival

ADAM CLAWED AT the wooden flooring, trying desperately to cling on. But a moment later he found himself launched into empty space.

The realization screamed at him – A fall from this height could kill me.

In the same split-second, Adam grabbed for the twisted remains of the fire escape. His fingers caught and closed around a rail. He gasped, body jerking in mid-air as he just barely stopped his fall. The fire escape had been totalled, the last stretch of ladder completely torn away.

The same deafening roar as before bellowed out, this time from inside the building. Something was tearing through the ground floor, trashing everything. Adam’s fingers were already numb from holding his dead weight in the air. Terrified, he reached for the next rung down, caught hold of it and tried to swing himself across so he’d be closer to the ground. But the rung slipped from his grip and he dropped down the last several metres to the ground. The impact shook through his body but he staggered up, too scared to linger, and ran to where his mountain bike stood chained to the railings outside the block. As the sound of more gunfire zinged through the air at the front of the building, Adam tore at the chain’s combination lock with trembling fingers until the catch jumped open. Then he chucked the chain away and swung himself onto the Iron Horse’s saddle.

As he started to pedal away, he saw another black Cadillac speeding towards him along the long, dusty road that bisected the rugged plains this side of the complex. He waved frantically, relief flooding through him. Whoever it was, maybe they could get him away from here.

The Caddy skidded in a wide circle in front of him as the driver expertly pulled a handbrake turn. As it stopped, a tall, blond man leaped out from the back seat. ‘That’s Adlar’s kid!’ he hollered. ‘Must’ve got past Bateman.’

Another man, bald and burly, scrambled out from the passenger side. ‘They kind of have their hands full, wouldn’t you say?’ The bald man smiled coldly. ‘So you’re Adam Adlar, right?’

‘Right …’ Adam answered with a fresh stab of unease. ‘Did … did my dad send you?’

‘Sure,’ sneered the first man, pulling out a handgun. ‘Him and the Easter Bunny.’

Adam stared in horror. What the hell was going on?

And then a thick black shadow swooped overhead. In a heartbeat, Adam saw the men’s hard faces twist in terror as they stared up at something above him. They hurled themselves to the ground …

A blink of an eye later, a cream-coloured convertible dropped from the sky. It landed upside down with a deafening smack on the rear of the black car, crushing it. The windows of both vehicles exploded as the impact sent the Cadillac careering across the road, almost crushing the bald, burly man as he rolled aside to get away.

With a sick feeling, Adam recognized the convertible at once. It was his dad’s hire car, an extravagant indulgence, left parked in the underground garage. So how could it have come flying over the top of the building like a tossed stone?

A grating, bone-shaking rumble started up. Adam spun back round to find the entire apartment complex starting to collapse. ‘No way,’ he breathed, too shaken to feel much other than a horrified fascination. Then he caught movement, realized that the first man was scrambling back up with his gun.

Jerking into life, Adam stood up on the pedals and powered away.

‘Get back here, kid!’ the man screamed.

Adam ignored him, clicking upwards through ten gears in half as many seconds. Half deafened by the cacophony of falling concrete, he pushed himself faster, shooting out from behind the crumbling corner of the block. He glimpsed Bateman and a friend running for the hills, while the other suited man lay sprawled over the remains of the Caddy. Adam didn’t stop. Broken bricks chased him across the road as his home, his whole world, came crashing down around him. But fear had numbed him and all he could think of was to keep on pedalling. Approaching the entrance to the industrial park, he swerved neatly and tightly through the gap in the battered gates, and only then did he risk a backward glance.

A split-second later, Adam gripped the brakes, jamming the wheels, almost hurling himself over the handlebars.

What. Is. THAT?

A cloud of thick white dust shrouded the space where the apartment building had once stood. But the powder seemed to be settling impossibly in mid-air to reveal the hideous outline of a monster standing astride the debris, as big as a bus. Adam glimpsed what could have been a thick, snaking tail, a ridged back, a huge reptilian head. Then the dust was shaken away with a bestial roar that nearly burst his eardrums, and all suggestion of an image vanished.

In blind panic, Adam pedalled away with a strength he never knew he possessed, his tyres singing over the tarmac. He remembered that so-called news story: Giant monster spotted in southern Utah. Suddenly it didn’t seem so crazy any more.

He hung a reckless left turn at the first junction he came to, and then turned right, desperate to put cover and distance between him and the thing he had seen. Adam’s calf muscles knotted as he pushed the pedals faster. His breath scraped in his throat. But over the noise of his flight he could hear the heavy pounding of footsteps behind him.

It’s following.

Adam took another corner, leaning hard into the turn, chanced another look behind him. Nothing. But if the thing was invisible it could—

underneath