Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  Priestly hurried to the driver’s seat.

  “In the back – both of you!” Lucy yelled to the mother, who was clutching her remaining child by the shoulders, terrified. More people were beginning to run through the hotel lobby, heading for the street. The mother and daughter hurried into the back of the car. Lucy dragged the quivering hostage child into the front with her, drawing her onto her lap and sealing the door. Priestly slammed the accelerator and pulled them away, as confused shouts called after them.

  Priestly pulled on his seatbelt as he drove. Lucy clocked this and ordered the child to draw hers over both of them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” cried the mother from the back.

  “Saving my husband,” said Priestly, as he sped through the streets.

  “Please let my daughter go,” begged the husband, from the back.

  “She’s fine. We’re taking you to safety,” said Lucy.

  “You’re covered in blood! You’re a magnet for the creatures!” cried the father.

  “Then gimme a rag,” said Lucy.

  The father passed her a towel from the floor. Lucy wiped her hands and knife clean, then tossed the towel out of the window. The tip of the sun was edging onto the winter horizon.

  “Gimme another,” said Lucy.

  “I don’t have another,” said the man.

  “Then make one,” said Lucy, discretely re-sheathing the knife.

  He tore a strip off his shirt sleeve and passed it to Lucy. She dabbed the excess blood from Priestly’s cheek then tossed it from the window, while a new layer formed along the cut.

  “It was you, wasn’t it? The blood in the vents – you did it!” cried Josie.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” protested Priestly.

  “You’ve condemned them all!” said Josie.

  “We gave them a warning. It’s more of a chance than they were ever going to get without us,” said Lucy.

  Lucy spotted two beams of light twirling across the night sky. The top of the Queen’s building was lit up like a beacon.

  “You can’t be serious – we’re not going back, you can’t take us back!” protested the father.

  “You’ve been here before?” said Lucy, aghast.

  “Christ, it took us two months to escape. She’s going to punish us!” the man whimpered.

  The Queen’s building came into view. Refugees Welcome was written across the top floor windows in giant iridescent paint. Rap music blared as they approached.

  “Shit!” cried Priestly, as a beast leapt in front of the headlights. He swerved heavily, hitting the curb at speed, and flipping the SUV onto its side. It skidded through the snow into a parked vehicle. The collision projected the unbuckled father out of his seat and into the car’s roof, before he crashed down in a heap by the passenger window, to the screams of his wife and daughter.

  Lucy and the girl hung sideways in the front seat, suspended above Priestly, whose forehead was bleeding. Lucy’s eyes widened in horror as the beast reappeared in the van’s headlights, bounding towards them.

  Gun shots rained down in the darkness and a series of bullets embedded themselves in the beast, felling it in the street. Lucy pushed the passenger door upwards, thrusting it open.

  “You’re gonna have to climb out. I’m gonna leave the seat belt in place, you gotta wriggle. See that gearbox there? Put your foot on that. Good – now see the door’s open? You gotta climb to the edge, then jump down onto the sidewalk. Your mom and sister will be right behind you I promise, now go,” said Lucy, helping lift the girl up to the door ledge.

  Placing her own foot on the gearbox, Lucy unclipped her seatbelt. She leaned down and unclipped Priestly’s, too, then dragged him to his feet. She slapped his face several times, and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Hey, stay with me. Nearly there. I’m gonna climb up, you gotta follow,” said Lucy.

  She hauled herself up to the door ledge then braced her feet and one hand against the frame. With tremendous effort, she reached down and pulled Priestly upward.

  He climbed, groggily, with much coercion, until Lucy could reach his belt and drag him over the lip of the doorway. He slumped over the edge and onto the snowy sidewalk. Lucy jumped down and helped him up.

  “Help us, please!” cried the woman, who was still inside the vehicle.

  Having gotten her second daughter out, she was trying in vain to shift her husband. More guns shots rang out from the surrounding buildings. Lucy climbed into the doorway and reached down, pulling the woman out.

  “Get your kids to safety – I’ll help your husband,” shouted Lucy.

  Then woman stumbled onto the sidewalk.

  “There’s a gap between the buses. Get inside the building – and take him with you,” Lucy ordered, pointing the mother to the dazed Priestly.

  Lucy dropped to the ground and forced the SUV trunk open. She clicked the uppermost backseat down and leaned over. The father was coming around, groaning.

  “Give me your hand!” she called, glancing at the busses, as the group weaved between them.

  The man reached up, feebly. Like Priestly, he was bleeding from the head. Lucy grasped his hand and hauled, but the man screamed out in pain; his shoulder was pinned beneath the broken driver’s seat. Lucy tried to shift the seat but it just caused more pain.

  Bullets rang out nearby.

  “I’m gonna try lift the seat again – be ready to move your arm clear. One, two, three!” cried Lucy, heaving against the buckled seat rail.

  The man cried out in pain, moving no distance at all. Lucy leaped to the ground and tackled the rear passenger seat, pulling it back vigorously until it snapped away, revealing the man’s bloodied face. His arm was crushed beneath the seat in front, and Lucy could see no way to free it. The man reached out and Lucy clasped his hand in empathy. He looked at her imploringly.

  “Help me – please. My daughters, help me!” cried the man, tears in his eyes.

  A roar echoed across the street, followed by a second. Fear washed over Lucy as the two beasts bounded towards her. Her fleeting sense of immunity evaporated as the gnashing creatures tore towards her with intent.

  “I’m sorry!” she cried.

  Lucy released the man’s hand, and ran for the blockade. As she fled between the busses, she saw bullets fell only one of the creatures; the second leapt into the open trunk.

  She emerged from the busses and ran across the forecourt to the razor wire wedge, which the gaunt gatekeeper had cranked open in anticipation.

  “Close it!” she cried, as she crawled through into the HQ side and sprinted for the building.

  Gasping for breath, she hurtled into the atrium, where Marissa was waiting with the escapees.

  “Where – where is he?” said the mother, looking at Lucy in disbelief.

  “I’m so sorry, he was already gone,” said Lucy, swallowing and staring at the floor.

  The mother collapsed in a fit of grief. The two daughters looked lost beside her. A guard placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and helped her up, taking her to a sofa in the lobby.

  “Where’s Priestly? He needs green paste,” said Lucy, breathlessly.

  “They’re dealing with him,” said Marissa.

  “And Lopez?” said Lucy.

  Marissa bowed her head, solemnly.

  “We never got the flare signal. He didn’t make it – I’m sorry,” she said.

  Lucy’s mouth turned dry and she sagged into a chair, waves of denial crashing over her as the new sank in.

  “You did what you could. Get some rest, it’s a fresh day tomorrow,” said Marissa.

  A guard directed Lucy towards the stairwell. She rose from her seat in a daze and followed his steer, climbing two flights of stairs until they peeled off onto the new level. The guard led her onto a floor with multiple segmented glass offices, similar to the one she’d stayed in previously. Lucy stared at her boots as the guard led her down the corridor. He unlocked a cubicle and nudged Lucy inside. It smelled of
urine and gas, but it was warm.

  “Lucy?” came a familiar voice.

  She looked up as Lopez wrapped his arms around her. He checked her for injuries, then guided her to the floor.

  “You came back,” he said, clasping her by the shoulders with immense gratitude.

  “You’re alive,” said Lucy distantly.

  “Thanks to you,” said Lopez.

  Lucy took in their glass cubicle. Three strangers lay asleep on the floor around them.

  “Are you OK? What did they make you do?” said Lopez, scratching his arm.

  Lucy pulled his sleeve back and stared at the red lesions covering his skin.

  “It’s nothing,” said Lopez, moving to re-cover his arm, but Lucy stopped him. She held up her own arm next to his, and pulled her sleeve back.

  “You’ve got the same,” he whispered, glancing around.

  “This is like what happened to Jackson,” said Lucy.

  “But we didn’t get infected – we only swallowed the powder,” said Lopez.

  “Maybe this is a side effect?” said Lucy.

  “How long do we have? Jackson got weak quickly,” said Lopez.

  “Her condition was complicated. We might have another day, but it’s definitely spreading,” said Lucy.

  “Can we get more white powder?” said Lopez.

  “I tried that with Jackson and it didn’t save her – I think it might be the cause,” said Lucy.

  Lopez stared at their spreading lesions, a grim look across his face.

  “We need a cure – fast,” said the Major.

  FOUR

  South

  ___________________________

  “Drink this, sweetie, you need to keep your strength up,” said her mom.

  Lucy sat up in her bed and reached out two small, shaky hands for the beaker. She had no appetite but forced down a few sips of cool soda. Her mom pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned sympathetically.

  “You’re burning up. I’m gonna call the school – no way you’re going in today,” said her mother, taking the beaker back.

  “I’ll call them – you stay here,” said Lopez, giving Lucy’s shoulder a squeeze and leaving the room. He was wearing jeans. He suited them.

  A doctor entered and placed a thermometer under Lucy’s tongue and a stethoscope against her back.

  “This is the third day in a row,” said Lucy’s mother, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head.

  “Her heart beat’s regular. Temperature looks OK, too. Is there anything you want to tell me, young lady?” said the doctor.

  Lucy scrunched up her Disney blanket and pulled it closer to her chin, shaking her head.

  “Would you mind giving us a minute?” the doctor added.

  “Of course, doc,” replied Lucy’s mom, graciously. She stepped out into the hall, where she introduced herself to Dan. He was in ceremonial uniform, and clutching a bouquet of lilies. He peered through the doorway, looking concerned.

  Lucy sat up to wave but the doctor drew a curtain around the bed. He lowered his voice confidentially.

  “It’s OK if you’re not feeling sick, I won’t be mad. Maybe there’s something else making you not want to go to school?” asked the doctor, softly.

  Lucy chewed her lip. The doctor tilted his ear towards her.

  “I don’t want mommy to go back,” whispered Lucy.

  ***

  The cubicle lock clicked and Lucy opened her eyes. Lopez entered, followed by three Chinese strangers clutching blankets and sleeping bags. They argued between themselves over who took which part of the floor, while Lopez knelt by Lucy.

  “What happened to you?” said Lucy, looking at Lopez’s black eye.

  “It’s fine. Here, I brought you some bread,” replied Lopez, handing her two fistfuls of pitta.

  “How’d you get so much?” said Lucy.

  “For a prison, this place caters well,” said Lopez.

  “What time is it?” said Lucy.

  “It’s dusk.”

  “I was out for the whole day?”

  “You got back at dawn, so no wonder,” said Lopez.

  “I didn’t hear you leave,” said Lucy.

  “I’m surprised – it was a noisy exit. They wanted you to work, but I suggested you’d live longer if you got more than thirty minutes of sleep each day. They took it well,” said Lopez, pointing to his eye.

  “Thank you,” said Lucy, blushing. She tore off a chunk of bread. It tasted salty. “What did they make you do?”

  “This place is insane. They’re growing plants on levels four and six, and they’ve re-plumbed the building to recycle all its water. It’s like they’ve rounded up all the nerds in NYC and given them a purpose in life. Some of them seem pretty psyched about it, too. It’s the weirdest thing. The nerds have got teams of grunts working for them. They have a lot of power, and they know it. Of course, the problem with glass cubicles is that when they abuse their newfound power everyone can see it happening. But no-one says anything. It’s just accepted. The way some of the others look at the victims – it’s like they all suddenly believe that person must deserve it,” said Lopez.

  “What did they make you do?” said Lucy.

  “I was sent with some other grunts to go and loot the enemy’s empty hotel. The Queen’s guards secured the building, and a bunch of us were sent to go and raid the supplies,” said Lopez.

  “Why didn’t you run – you could’ve escaped?” said Lucy.

  “We were guarded the whole time. But I think we may have an angle on getting out of here. I spoke to Willis,” said Lopez.

  “The soldier?” said Lucy.

  “Yeah, his hand’s still fucked, and he’s been ostracized. The others are treating him like he’s toxic – they don’t want anything to do with him. I think he’s our way out. We’ll approach him tomorrow. Rest up until then, you look like shit,” said Lopez.

  “So glad you came back,” said Lucy, dryly.

  “I mean it – you need to regain some strength. Finish the bread, then sleep some more. Tomorrow, when they take us to the hotel, we’ll get Willis away from the others and make our escape,” said Lopez.

  ***

  Feb 23rd (est.) – It’s night-time. Can’t get back to sleep. Someone on our level’s still working, so at least there’s some candlelight I can use. Didn’t think I’d ever get this notebook back. Lopez says the Queen gave it to him when Marissa returned to the HQ last night (along with Rangecroft’s diary). He’s not said anything, but I’m guessing he read both. He might not have had time. He’s gone cold again. I probably talked about Rangecroft’s notes too much. Dan always said people you serve with become like family. Something sure has flicked a switch in Lopez’s buttoned-up head, ‘cos he’s back to being a jumped up, pompous, army prick. Before curfew he reverted to calling me “Young”, and insisting I call him “Major”. Spoilers: in an army of two, that’s not gonna happen.

  We compared lesions again – they’re definitely getting worse. This led us on to arguing about where to go from here. He said DC, because he’s obsessed with DC. I said Boston, because the only thing we’ve heard about anyone treating this disease was mention of a doctor in Boston. He accused me of avoiding DC, which is insane – if he’s bothered to read this diary he’ll know full well that Dan’s father’s there. Besides, I’m damned if I tell the “Major” about my mother, when I didn’t get to tell Dan. I said if he ever wants to make it to DC, then we have to go to Boston first. I think he knows Boston’s our only viable option, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet.

  He had a go at me for the decisions I’d made so far, like the mall thing, and picking up Maurice. So I told him his judgement had gotten everyone at Camp Oscar killed. He took that badly, and we argued some more. I told him he should stick to worrying about the people he’d lost, and I’d worry about mine. He’s barely mentioned the fact that I saved his life yesterday. Didn’t even ask for details. Thinks we’re all square after one hug? Like I said: a
sshole.

  ***

  A loud bang struck the glass cubicle, shattering Lucy’s deep slumber.

  “On your feet for the Queen!” bellowed a guard, storming through the corridor, banging a stick against each cubicle as she went.

  The pale grey daylight of a winter morning shone in from the windows. Lucy rose to her feet with the others and stumbled out into the corridor, where dozens of other residents were spilling out. People began jostling forwards, vying for a position near the front, where guards held the crowd back with batons. Lucy guessed there were around a hundred people crammed into her corridor, and probably the same on the parallel aisle.

  The elevator door opened with a ding and the crowd erupted with cheers. Lucy craned her neck for a view of the Queen, as she stepped out onto the floor and waved to the filthy, stinking residents. A gong sounded, and the crowed fell silent.

  “I ask only one thing of you, if you wish to be citizens in the new world I am offering. Loyalty. Be loyal to our vision, be loyal to each other, be loyal to me, and together we will forge a great future. Some of you are new here, and have joined us in the last day or so. To you I say, welcome – you are on the path to citizenship. Others of you may have been here for longer. To you I say, persevere. Your efforts do not go unnoticed, and we are preparing room for you above.”

  The Queen paused and smiled at the crowd, the foremost rows of whom cheered and applauded enthusiastically, while the rear rows were more cautious. The Queen held up a hand and the applause died down.

  “Loyalty and citizenship go hand in hand. If one is strong, so is the other. But we are all human, and we all make mistakes. Sometimes, that can seem like disloyalty, and for some of you, that is why you have found yourselves here. But take heart, for your fate is in your hands. You have the power to prove your commitment, to remold yourself, and to carve out a citizenship of the highest possible order. This morning I bring proof of this very fact. Among you is one who had much to prove. One who had much trust to build. But they have proven themselves a thousand fold. It is thanks to their courage, and their efforts, that we have eliminated the threat from our enemies, and preserved the safety of our community.”