Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  “Fine,” said Lucy staring at the floor, compulsively ruffling her short, choppy hair.

  Zipping sounds cut through the room as the clean-up team filled a dozen body bags. Shell-shocked onlookers gave statements, while Adrian examined the creatures’ entry points.

  “Do you know him?” said Fliss, catching Lucy’s glances up at Dan’s father.

  Lucy nodded.

  “What more can we do?” protested a resident, as Adrian’s team rinsed the tables and seats with a fine spray from what looked like insecticide kits.

  “Keep practicing your drills. Stay vigilant. Support one another in the days and weeks to come,” said Adrian, closing his notepad. His tone was sincere, but weary.

  “What does that even mean? We do all those things already, and just look around. They stop nothing. This same thing happened at my friend’s work, and in my cousin’s block. It’s like you people aren’t even trying to stop it!” raged another resident, piling in. The tirade was met with approving murmurs around the room.

  “We’re doing everything we can,” said Adrian, firmly.

  “Yeah, well it’s not enough, is it?” cried the tearful resident, gesturing to the body bags.

  “These creatures are adapting faster than we can learn about them. Working together is the best chance we have. That means staying strong; it means going to work when you’re afraid, and getting up when your brothers and sisters fall. Above all, it means never giving up. We are working on it, I promise you. If you can do your bit, we will beat these infernal creatures together,” said Adrian, broadening his reply to address the entire room.

  “We’re sick of words,” retorted a resident, their voice cracking with emotion as they knelt beside a body.

  “I agree. We need more action, and for that we need people with ideas. If anyone here knows what more we could be doing, I’m all ears. Or if anyone wants to transfer to the frontline teams, my department is ready to train you and deploy you. We urgently need staff, so please, step forwards,” said Adrian, challenging the room.

  One by one the residents avoided his glare. The disinfectant team finished spraying the room and followed the last body bag out to the street.

  “My door is always open. I’m sorry this happened to you tonight, truly. You’re not alone. We’ll get through this together. Keep practicing the drills,” said Dan’s father, placing a consoling hand on the nearest resident’s shoulder before turning to follow his team out.

  “Adrian!” cried Lucy, standing suddenly and knocking her plastic chair over with a clatter.

  He stopped sharply in the doorway and turned. Lucy’s heart pounded as their eyes met. For a moment the pair stared at one another across the room, each fully taking in the other’s appearance. She watched the recognition flash across his face. It was quickly replaced by a look of grave concern as he took in her ragged appearance. Lucy took a few hesitant steps closer, stumbling into another chair as she went. As she reached him, she realized his eyes were filling with tears. She stopped before him, nervously. He stared at her, his piercing eyes focused sharply on her, looking for truth.

  “Dan?” he croaked.

  Lucy shook her head, a tear tracing down her cheek as she forced herself to hold his gaze.

  Adrian turned briskly and shoved his way through the doors and out onto the street. Lucy hurried after him. Outside, the clean-up team were loading their equipment into a white van containing dozens of stacked body bags.

  Adrian stood to the side, leaning into the wall with his arms outstretched as if he was holding the entire building up. His shoulders shook as his head hung between his arms. Lucy approached him slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  He drew up abruptly and shook himself out, hastily wiping his cheeks dry.

  “We need to get back to work,” he said, with a shaky voice, setting off towards the street.

  “That’s it?” said Lucy, in astonishment.

  “More people will die if we don’t. Come on,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat of a black car.

  Lucy glanced back at the canteen. Fliss and Jack would have to fend for themselves for the next few hours, she decided, hurrying after Adrian and taking the front passenger seat.

  He pressed the ignition button and the electric vehicle awoke, automatically illuminating the dark street ahead. A small, steady blue LED shone from the car’s front and rear windows.

  “It’s an impossible task, but we’ve got to try,” said Adrian, taking a different route to the van. His voice was strained, and he gabbled, uncharacteristically. “These creatures are hitting us every night, every day, all across town. We’re fire-fighting the whole time. Just when we think we’re making progress, something new evolves and we get hit all over again. We need more research but we don’t have the people. I lost five in the last three days, all hit while investigating attack scenes. Soldiers are no good against this kind of infiltration. They cover the wall, and we cover the inside – or at least that’s the idea. We hose it all down with a bit of chlorine, take away the bodies, tell people to be strong, and expect them to get on with it. And that’s the crazy thing – they do. They get on with it. Because there’s nothing else they can do. There’s nowhere safer. We burn the bodies, so they can’t be used by the creatures, but we still expect communities to get closure. There’s no closure. Not when the creatures learn our shift patterns, or figure out the limits of a drone’s flight time. So we adapt. We randomize our shifts, we use prime numbers, we vary patrol routes so there’s no predictable cover. Then they adapt too. They get smaller, and reach us in the factories, in the streets, in our beds. People demand to know what we’re doing, what we’ve learned. But if they knew all of it, they’d lose their minds.”

  He barely stopped for a breath as he spoke, his hands tight on the wheel. Lucy hesitated, unsure if the outburst would resume.

  “Adrian, I’m so sorry,” she said, tentatively.

  He scratched his chin seven times as he waited at the crossroads, giving way to an ambulance, before pulling up beside George Washington University Hospital where illuminated corridors and wards shone out into the night.

  “He didn’t suffer,” began Lucy, but Adrian cut her off immediately.

  “Food security’s the real problem, of course. It’s the elephant in the room. We’ve got to keep the troops fed to preserve order. But we’ve also got to keep the people fed to prevent anarchy. We feed both sides, but we all know which side holds the cards. It’s not long before they make demands – not ‘demands’, of course – no, they’re submitted formally via the official channels. It’s all above board and legal, underpinned by meticulous arguments about the precise calorie expenditure of a night patrol and a daytime raid. They get their way. If they don’t, no-one wins. Better that one side wins a bit more than both sides lose everything. Damned food. When it comes down to it, that’s all it’s about. Always has been, always will be. Spring’s coming. We need to get planting A-SAP, but of course the creatures have evolved to camouflage with the land, and take out our farmers. So we send troops to defend the farmers, and put armor on the tractors. But the White House takes it upon itself to declare hydroponics as the only viable future, even though they know we don’t have the energy capabilities to sustain largescale indoor farming. But that’s their view, meaning we have all the more urgency to keep the city secure. Only, we’ve seconded our best defense researchers to the farm-tech projects, meaning the creatures are learning about us faster than we’re learning about them. So my new researchers go in underprepared and get killed at the scene, and we fall behind once again. It’s driving us toward the point of no return.”

  Adrian unbuckled and climbed out of the car, slamming the door and continuing to rant as he headed into the main building, flashing a pass to the security guards. Lucy hurried after him, following him further inside the hospital until he reached a security door, above which a sign read Department of Pathology. He punched in
a code, tapped his card, and allowed his face to be scanned.

  “You don’t have clearance for this,” said Adrian, looking at Lucy with bewilderment as if he’d forgotten she was with him.

  “Adrian, stop it. Just stop it, OK? Please. I’m begging you. I know how awful this must be for you. Your son is gone. My partner. We’ve both lost someone at the center of our worlds. Can we at least talk about him?” she implored.

  “You did freshman veterinary medicine, yes? That’ll be enough. I can get you lab clearance. You work here now. Report to me in the morning,” said Adrian, as the door clicked open.

  “So we’re just not gonna talk about what happened?” said Lucy.

  “My son is dead. There’s nothing more to discuss. I’ll see you,” said Adrian, entering the lobby. He tapped the clerk’s desk twice and gestured to Lucy as he continued into the building while the door closed in her face.

  ***

  Lucy crept into her room, where Fliss was already in bed. The clerk had arranged for a patrol to drop Lucy back at her halls of residence, which they had done reluctantly. She undressed in the dim moonlight and changed into the baggy night clothes that came with the room. They smelled like an old person.

  “I was worried you weren’t coming back,” said Fliss, sitting up, clutching the duvet.

  “Of course I came back,” said Lucy.

  “Was he the guy you know in DC – the senator?” said Fliss.

  “Yeah,” said Lucy.

  “Is he gonna help us?” said Fliss.

  “Maybe,” said Lucy, climbing into the bed opposite.

  “People in the canteen said a lot of bad stuff about him after you left,” said Fliss.

  “Like what?” said Lucy.

  “Like the government doesn’t care about them, they’re lying to us, that sorta stuff. Is it true?” said Fliss, nervously.

  “No,” said Lucy.

  “They said the canteen attacks have happened in other districts. Lucy, are we safe here?” said Fliss.

  “I can’t think of anywhere safer,” said Lucy.

  “Some people from the canteen asked me to come to a meeting tomorrow night before curfew. Some group’s lobbying the government to do more to protect workers - apparently they need more members. You know, to stop the attacks,” said Fliss.

  “Maybe you should go – see what it’s like?” said Lucy.

  Lucy lay on her back, feeling her vertebrae unfurl as she sank into the mattress.

  “Lucy, do you think Ruth’s OK?” said Fliss, quietly.

  Lucy knew she should answer the girl and at least offer some words of reassurance, but the emotions were out of reach. She didn’t know if Ruth was alive. She felt incapable of caring. She was numb.

  SIX

  Hostiles

  ____________________________________

  The car sped down the avenue, past the remaining hordes of workers commuting to their assembly line jobs. Adrian didn’t bother with the siren – there was little traffic to negotiate save for the busses and patrols in operation. The report had come in barely five minutes after Lucy completed her initial training.

  “Four down, two minors, possible hostile still on site, let’s go,” had been Adrian’s first and only words as he’d grabbed her from the training room.

  As they drove, they passed a clutch of protestors standing outside the metro station, each wearing a white armband. Between them they held a banner carrying the simple slogan they were chanting: Equal rations for all.

  Adrian swerved around the final corner and brought the car to a halt in front of a detached house several miles from the lab. The front door was open, but there were no signs of people around.

  “Stay sharp,” said Adrian, leaping out and drawing his handgun.

  Lucy followed him across the yard to the house. The afternoon air was mild, affirming spring’s arrival. Adrian clicked on his flashlight and called into the house.

  “Health Intelligence, anyone here?” he called out, leading through the reception hall, past the living room and into a kitchen.

  “Oh god,” said Lucy, trying not to wretch.

  A woman lay face down on the tiles. The skin across her neck and back had been peeled away, and hung over her hips like a sarong. Her exposed muscles and tendons were losing their red pigmentation, and fading to a translucent purple. Along her spine, her central nervous system had been torn out, such that it lay strewn over the surrounding tiles. The woman’s degrading flesh formed a gloopy outline around her body, extending a foot in every direction.

  “Get photos,” said Adrian, casting his flashlight around the dank space and checking the back doors and windows. Lucy took a photo of the woman’s body from a few angles, then hurried after Adrian as he headed upstairs.

  “You take the rooms on the right, I’ll go left,” said Adrian, leading on.

  Lucy raised her flashlight and pistol and made her way into the first room, where the blinds were drawn. Two child-sized beds stood on either side of the room, separated by a mobile of the planets which hung from the ceiling. From the threshold, she knelt down and shone the light under both beds. They were clear, save for discarded clothes and toys.

  The floorboards creaked as she stood up and moved to inspect closer, approaching the right-hand bed first. The duvet was ruffled and bulged randomly. With the light held high, she eased the pistol tip under the cover and flicked it out of the way. With her breath held, she leaped back, sighing with relief at the unblemished mattress and sheet she uncovered. The second bed was empty, too, so she moved on to the bathroom.

  With barely a foot in the door she recoiled in horror.

  “H- here!” she cried, training her gun inside.

  Adrian emerged from a far room and took up position beside her.

  “Is it a hostile?” he said, gun drawn.

  “They’re in there – the bodies,” said Lucy, her eyes wide with fear.

  Adrian’s flashlight bounced off the cabinet mirror, dazzling Lucy. He dipped it and edged forwards. “Clear,” he said, after a moment, beckoning Lucy inside the bathroom.

  She braced herself to confront the room once more, and followed him in.

  “Photos – quickly,” said Adrian, inspecting the tiles for cracks.

  Lucy approached the bathtub. A rubber duck floated idly across the crimson water. Beside it, two toddlers lay face down, partially submerged by the water. Their backs had been flayed like their mother’s. Slumped over the rim of the bath was a kneeling man. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his wrists submerged in the bathwater. His head was dipped down beneath his raised arms, and his back arched inwards as if he was being whipped. Liquefying flesh dripped from the skin peeled over his shoulders, adding to the growing puddle around him.

  “This is one of the worst I’ve seen,” said Adrian, returning to the doorway.

  Lucy nodded, afraid she would vomit if she tried to speak.

  “You’ll get used to it, Lucy,” he added, bleakly.

  He looked broken.

  Lucy’s eyes widened as something shifted beyond Adrian’s shoulder.

  “Get down!” she cried, lifting her pistol and firing.

  A ferret-like creature pounced from the ceiling towards Adrian’s neck. Its sleek fur rippled as Lucy’s bullets felled it mid-flight.

  “Christ!” yelled Adrian, flinching.

  Lucy’s bullet had pierced the creature’s shoulder. The ridges along its furry spine bristled as the splayed predator twitched and swiped at Adrian, who swiftly unloaded two more rounds into its body.

  Lucy cast her flashlight around the hall for others.

  “Clear,” she called, breathlessly.

  Adrian lost no time in photographing the bleeding specimen and resuming the search.

  “Look – it came from the guest room,” he said, tracing the scuff marks on the coving. Lucy followed him into the room, where a curtain rippled in the wind. Adrian approached silently, clutching his pistol. Lucy took aim and braced herself as he swept
the curtain back.

  “I think we’ve found the point of entry,” said Adrian, examining the broken window pane. He photographed pieces of fur that had been caught in between the shards of glass.

  “How do people guard against that? We’re a story up, are we supposed to board every window of every occupied building?” said Lucy.

  “If that’s what it takes, then yes. If you can think of an alternative, please share it,” said Adrian, sliding the window frame up and peering out to examine the surrounding wall.

  Lucy considered the box of white powder that had saved her and Lopez back at Camp Oscar. Her hand absently-mindedly moved to her abdomen, as she thought of the abortive growth it had induced. She shuddered and changed the focus.

  “You mentioned drones yesterday. Could we hunt the creatures?” said Lucy.

  Adrian closed the window and left the room. His thick-soled boots echoed off the wooden staircase as he descended.

  “Adrian?” said Lucy, following him out to the front yard.

  “We’ll send a clean-up team round to take care of the bodies by nightfall,” he said, heading for the car.

  “Seriously, that’s it, then?” said Lucy.

  “What’s it?” said Adrian.

  “Wooden planks. That’s our plan against those wildcat things – board up every window and hope they don’t learn to chew wood? No wonder that family died. It’s true, isn’t it? We really don’t have a plan,” she said, despondently.

  “What were you expecting?” said Adrian.

  “Something a little more high-tech,” said Lucy.

  “Armed drones would cause too much collateral damage. We can only use them outside the walls. Drones inside the city give us eyes only. Killing actual targets requires infantry support, and that’s a struggle right now,” said Adrian.

  “Is there anywhere we’re not struggling?” said Lucy.

  “You don’t like it here? Leave. No-one’s keeping you,” said Adrian, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Lucy.

  Adrian ignored her and drew his seatbelt.