The Fall of Man

Part III chapter 16

Chapter 16

They stand before a monolithic slab of a building. It is composed in a classical language; in front of them, the once-grand steps form a sweeping base that rises up to a symmetrical frontage dominated by heavy, gently tapering columns. In turn, the fluted uprights support a colossal triangular pediment way above their heads. This temple is all cast in unflinchingly Brutalist concrete. Small pebbles and seashells encrust its eroded surface. Giant figures recline uncomfortably atop it, their swollen muscular forms bunched in powerful repose.

Beneath all this suspended self-weight and civic pomp, the main entrance stands battered and broken, open to all and sundry. The sliding doors are long gone from their metal frames. A pair of tired lamps with cracked blue glass hang listlessly to either side of the opening.

Gareth leads them swiftly through the wreckage of the doorframes. The double height reception is awash with broken furniture and clogged with reams of moulded paper. They thread their way via a slender gap in the counter, through a discrete door of brass and leather, into a maze of corridors that lies on the other side. Much of the intestinal building is swaddled in total darkness, and Eve shuffles her way gingerly along the cluttered corridor floors, holding onto Gareth’s hand in front with her father’s trailing behind. Finally, after twisting and turning through a warren of unmarked lefts and rights, they arrive at another door; an unassuming aluminium frame filled with cloudy obscure glass. A battered emergency sign hangs above the exit, and a soft white light soaks through the glazing. With a grand flourish, Gareth pushes down on the panic bar and gestures for them to follow him out into the sunlight that spills around him.

Outside once more, they are stood within a makeshift enclosure of tall corrugated metal panels. The top of the rusty perimeter is lined with loop after loop of razor wire. Daylight shines through small corrosions in the sheets, and throws spears of light through air that is thick with dust. The yard is packed with vehicles of every description, all of which are neatly arranged in regimented rows. A deep carpet of dirt and fine debris stands like fuzzy grey felt on top of each machine. Some bear the logo and insignia of the city. Others are unmarked. Most look to be in near perfect condition.

For a split second, Noah stands slack-jawed in disbelief, before running back into the building. A moment later he re-emerges with a whoop. He is holding aloft a single black plastic key, and a large, translucent container sloshes by his side. He studies the key in his hand and then presses with his thumb. Off to Eve’s left, one of the vehicles bleats in response.

“Eve, get in the truck. It’s that black one in space nineteen. Gareth, get the gate.”

In a flash, Gareth is at the corrugated metal opening. He lifts the flush bolt securing the base of each gate from the ground with a clunk, but a padlocked chain still ties the two leafs together. He frowns, then runs back into the derelict police station. Noah swings himself inside the cab alongside Eve. Setting the container on the console between them, he inserts the key in the ignition and turns. The engine starts first time. Squinting into the darkness at his feet, he finds the pedals. With one tap on the accelerator, the vehicle lurches into motion. Through a series of short, clumsy jerks, he backs the Range Rover out of its allocated space and then turns it towards the yard’s gated entrance. There is a muffled crump as the rear bumper nudges up against a low bollard.

Gareth reappears at the small back door with bolt cutters in his hands. He takes a step out onto the yard, then freezes. There is a ping and a cloud of dust gathers at his feet. Immediately he shrinks back into the shadow of the doorway. Another ping is accompanied by a thunderclap, and the bonnet of the truck creases in front of them. Noah jams his foot down, but the car is in neutral and the engine emits a tinny, high-pitched whine of complaint.