Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  “We need to get him out right now,” said Lucy, staring at the bloodied carcass opposite.

  “Who?” said Fliss.

  “Lopez – come on, we don’t have much time, they can get us there,” said Lucy, standing up.

  Fliss grabbed Lucy and pulled her back behind a parked car.

  “Lucy, if they find us they’ll arrest us,” she said.

  “He’s suffering and I’m letting it happen,” said Lucy, welling up.

  “You can’t help him if they lock you up too. You have to keep a low profile. Be part of that lab and wait for the right moment – it’ll come, I promise you,” said Fliss.

  “You don’t understand. I have to, I owe him,” said Lucy, pulling away from her.

  “Listen to me. If you turn yourself in, I’ll do the same,” said Fliss.

  “What?” said Lucy.

  “I’ll tell them Jack’s infected too, and Kryz,” said Fliss.

  “Why would you do that? That’s madness – they’ll torture you all. We’re trying to get him out, don’t you get it?” protested Lucy.

  “Of course I do. And you’re so emotionally fucked right now, you’re going to ruin that chance forever. So I’m telling you straight, if you do that, I promise you, you’ll be taking all of us down with you. Is that what you want?” said Fliss.

  “I- I’m not,” began Lucy.

  Fliss seized her shoulders. Lucy stared at the teen for a moment then slumped on the girl and clung to her for comfort.

  “The only way we’ll save him is from the inside,” hissed Fliss.

  “Hey, you there!” called a soldier, from the sidewalk.

  “Run!” cried Fliss, grabbing Lucy and racing into the shadows, as the soldier leaped into the patrol car.

  NINE

  Avalanche

  _______________________________________________

  There was shouting coming from within the Pathology Department. Lucy scanned her pass and stepped inside. Alexi, the receptionist, was sheltering behind the desk island, calling into a radio. In the corridor stood a patient in a gown. Her stance was wide and low, like an NFL player preparing for a scrimmage. The patient agitated from side to side, trying to dodge past the technicians, who nervously mirrored her movements from behind their protective suits, trying to keep her contained. The woman yelled furiously, demanding to be released.

  The technician behind the woman edged closer, preparing to make a grab, but the patient spotted her. She elbowed him hard in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. She leaped over his groaning body and made for the far exit, but two security guards sped around the corner, blocking off the corridor. Skidding to a halt, the barefooted woman backtracked hastily, threatening untold violence as her captors closed in.

  A door adjacent to the woman opened and Harvey stepped out with a look of grandfatherly concern on his rosy face. His shabby-looking burgundy sweater matched the fluffiness of his white beard.

  “Dear me, what’s going on out here?” he said, noting the technician sat against the wall, tilting his bleeding nose backwards.

  “Let me the hell out of this place,” cried the woman in the gown.

  “You’re not supposed to be here?” said Harvey, adjusting his round spectacles with intrigue.

  “No freaking way, I came to see my doctor and next thing I know I’m wearing this thing and these freaks are trying to load me into a cell,” said the woman.

  “Clearly there’s been a misunderstanding. Can we find this woman’s clothes, please?” said Harvey, to the second technician.

  He gestured to the lobby where Lucy was standing.

  “You’re welcome to take a seat while we find your things, Ma’am. What was your doctor’s name? I’ll see if I can find out what’s going on,” said Harvey, apologetically.

  The woman looked around, anxiously, and nodded. She took a few cautious steps towards the lobby, passing the injured technician, and keeping the remaining one at arm’s length.

  “Can we get you a glass of water while you wait?” said Harvey, inviting her to take a seat.

  “No, I’m good,” said the woman, her eyes shifting around the corridor.

  “Alexi, could you take this woman’s details please and arrange transport back to her residence?”

  The receptionist swallowed nervously and approached the woman, stopping several yards away and kneeling down with a notepad. As the woman gave her details, Harvey pulled a syringe from his lab coat and stabbed her arm in a swift, delicate motion.

  The woman leaped up with a gasp, shoving the receptionist over and making for the main doors. The two security guards tackled her immediately, bringing her down with a cry. They held her in place with latex-covered hands as she struggled and screamed with anger. The woman spat out, hitting one of the guards in the eye. He recoiled in disgust, wiping saliva from his face while his colleague fought to get restraints on the patient. Within a few seconds, her struggling had stopped and she was limp.

  “Unit C,” said Harvey.

  The guard and second technician dragged the unconscious woman back through the corridor and into a room unfamiliar to Lucy.

  “We’ll need to give you a course of antivirals for that,” said Harvey, patting the other security guard on the back, then deftly injecting him with a second syringe.

  The man looked at him in confusion, then slumped to the ground.

  “See that he’s admitted,” said Harvey, helping the fallen receptionist back to his feet.

  Harvey gave Lucy a warm smile, and welcomed her into the chaos.

  “Mondays, hey? Come check this out – I suspect it will be of interest to you,” he said, leading her to the sedated woman’s ward.

  Harvey cleared the security scanners and ushered Lucy into the laboratory unit. A wave of heckling greeted them as they entered. The ward was larger than Lopez’s, but similar in layout. To Lucy’s astonishment, nine of the cells were occupied by newly-admitted adults.

  “It gets loud, when you keep them all together like this,” said Harvey, gesturing to the occupants.

  The guard and technician emerged from behind the final cell, where they’d deposited the sedated woman.

  “What do you think?” said Harvey, stroking his luxurious side burns.

  “There’s nine of them? That’s more than I was-,”

  She stopped abruptly, nearly betraying the knowledge Kryz had given her. “It’s spreading,” she summarized, folding her arms.

  Her eyes lingered on the sedated woman. She’d been left in the recovery position on the cell floor. Harvey followed Lucy’s gaze.

  “I made the mistake of putting her next to Patient One last night and she somewhat freaked out. On reflection, I’ve decided it’s best we keep this new cohort separate – at least while their symptoms are in the early stages. Though I’m unclear how she got out – I’ll have to talk to the technicians on duty,” said Harvey.

  “How is he?” said Lucy.

  “Patient One? I’ve not yet had a chance to check. Care to join me for morning rounds?” said Harvey, leading the way.

  As they approached Lopez’s ward, Harvey donned a set of ear defenders from the external rack. Lucy copied, and followed him inside. The injured lab technician joined them, with red-speckled tissue paper stuffed up each nostril.

  Overhead strip lights blazed down on Lopez’s cell, saturating it with harsh white light, while sporadic blasts of white noise played out. The blasts varied in duration and frequency, putting Lucy further on edge. She stepped towards the glass cell wall with trepidation. Lopez sat in the far corner, curled up a ball, with his back to them. He was trembling.

  “Good morning, Major,” said Harvey, cutting the white noise and removing his ear defenders.

  Lopez didn’t react.

  “We would like to inspect your skin this morning, Major. Could you kindly approach the glass?” said Harvey, peering in.

  Lopez hunched over further, drawing his knees closer to his chest and keeping his head hidden be
neath his folded arms. Harvey gave the technician a nod, and the man headed for the rear of the cell, entering it a moment later through the back door.

  The technician placed a hand on Lopez’s arm, which had become so thin his fingers wrapped around it easily. The man tried to bring Lopez to his feet but he resisted, doing his best to maintain his curled position. The technician stooped down and grabbed both of Lopez’s arms, and heaved him away from the corner. With a cry, the technician let go of Lopez and stumbled back in fear. The Major’s legs fell flat, lowering his arms and revealing the purple fetus he was cradling.

  “My god,” said Harvey, pressing his face to the glass in astonishment.

  He radioed for support while Lucy stared on in dread. A team of three swiftly arrived in hazmat suits, wheeling an incubator into the ward. The team approached Lopez and tried to reach the fetus but Lopez resisted, shielding it with his shoulders until the crew overpowered him and tore the baby from his arms.

  The infant’s limbs flailed helplessly, and it let out a stuttering cry as the technician lowered it into the incubator. It lay on its back, unswaddled, reaching and kicking out for contact, with its puffy eyes sealed shut.

  “Just remarkable,” said Harvey, as the team wheeled the incubator away.

  Lopez reached after them feebly as the cell door slammed shut. His arm lingered, outstretched for a desperate moment, before falling limply to his side. He slumped further down the wall like he’d been struck by a firing squad, while the technicians re-emerged, wheeling the sterile crib past the glass façade.

  “You know where to take that,” said Harvey, as they passed by.

  Lucy glimpsed inside and gasped; the infant looked entirely human, save for the purple tint to its skin, which was already fading. The infant continued to cry in short, gurgling bursts, but its voice was weak. Lucy’s mind flashed back to her miscarriage in Boston, and to the mis-formed, lifeless mass of gelatin she’d scraped out of her own abdomen. Her hand moved instinctively to the scarred flesh beneath her uniform.

  “I never expected to see such results – and so quickly. I must commend your excellent intuition, Lucy. It appears our combined approach has accelerated the disease’s progression, as hypothesized. The real excitement begins now, of course. Thanks to the increase in patients we’ve had overnight, we can see if the results are generalizable,” said Harvey, beaming at Lucy.

  Muttering from Lopez’s cell interrupted Harvey’s ruminations.

  “He’s trying to speak,” said Lucy, stepping closer to the glass wall.

  Lopez’s limbs were stick-thin, while his skin was a mass of raw lesions and swollen blisters. Lucy stifled her tears as she pressed a hand to the glass, while Harvey crossed over to the control panel and slid up a fader, amplifying the sound from the cell.

  “You betrayed me,” repeated Lopez, his words slurred and his gestures unsteady.

  “Who betrayed you?” said Harvey, curiously.

  Lucy shuffled as she mentally flashed through the lab’s exits. Her leg began to tremble as adrenaline flooded her muscles.

  “My country,” said Lopez, weakly.

  His gown was soaked with sweat. It stuck to his frame like clingfilm. His hand rested on his abdomen, where the uneven flesh created contours beneath the wet garment.

  “Let me finish,” said Lopez, feebly swatting an invisible detractor away.

  “No-one’s interrupting you, Major,” said Harvey.

  Lopez looked up in confusion and pain. The dark rings around his eyes extended to his cheek bones, which protruded sharply through his taut skin. He stared at Lucy and Harvey with the fear of a dementia victim.

  “This is a medical first. Are you coming in?” said Harvey, excitedly, as he grabbed a hazmat suit from the wall.

  Lucy stared at Lopez, a tear trickling down her cheek.

  “Lucy?” said Harvey, tossing her a face mask.

  The laboratory door buzzed open and Adrian hurried inside. His trench coat billowed behind him as rushed towards them. Lucy shook herself and discretely struck the teardrop from her face.

  “Ah, senator, you join us at a fine moment – we’re about to make history,” said Harvey, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “It’ll have to wait. We’ve just picked up four new infecteds from the same neighborhood. I thought you had this thing under control, Harvey. The Major’s in quarantine yet the pathogen’s spreading faster than ever. I’m diverting all available resources to find the source,” said Adrian.

  “You can have whomever you need from my team, Adrian, but my work must remain here. We’re on the brink of a discovery that could change the course of the war,” said Harvey, clasping his hands eagerly.

  “I sincerely hope that’s true,” said Adrian, peering into Lopez’s cell in disgust.

  “I shan’t keep you, senator,” said Harvey, continuing to don his protective gear.

  “Lucy, you’re needed,” said Adrian, exiting the lab with a grim expression on his face.

  “Shouldn’t I stay here? Harvey might need help with the Major,” said Lucy, appealing to the director.

  “You heard our dear senator. I’m afraid your talents are in high demand, Lucy. Fear not, I plan on capitalizing on our excellent work with the Major thus far. Truly, we are making progress. It would be my pleasure to talk you through it when you return,” said Harvey, sliding his glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

  The door bleeped open and Adrian stepped back into the threshold, glaring at Lucy impatiently.

  “People are waiting,” he snapped.

  Lucy threw a final glance at Lopez’s quivering figure then tore herself away from the lab. She hurried to catch up with Adrian, who pressed ahead through the ward until they reached a meeting room. The space was cramped, and the half-dozen swivel chairs were already filled when she entered. Lucy filed in beside the other new recruits standing awkwardly against the wall. Adrian pushed past them to the front of the room with a grave expression and began the briefing.

  They had eight hours to carry out the contact tracing of every infected person being held in the Pathology Department. Not only that, but they had to bring in any subsequent ‘infecteds’ they discovered in the process – patients who would, themselves, require the same level of outbreak investigation.

  Lucy and the team were swiftly issued with clipboards, gloves, and masks. She followed the new recruits to the holding ward, where they received their first patients. Lucy was assigned a woman in her thirties, who was clearly terrified by the new environment, and the sudden arrival of the investigative squad. The woman ignored Lucy’s questions, persisting instead with her own panicked requests for medical help, for legal aid, for her family to be told. Lucy agitated as two technicians left the ward together, and a third finalized their patient’s questionnaire. Lucy implored the woman to cooperate, for the sake of those she might help, but it was no use; the woman was petrified. Lucy stared at the pitiful woman, and the others trapped in the ward alongside her, and wondered which ones Harvey would come for first. She had to stop it all.

  She swallowed hard, looked the woman in the eye, and lied. Lucy gave whatever reassurance it took to get the woman to offer up her contact history.

  “So I’ll get to see a doctor now? You’re gonna tell them, right? Straighten this whole misunderstanding out?” said the woman, anxiously, as Lucy recorded the name and location of her third and final contact.

  “Someone will be with you shortly,” said Lucy, placing a fleeting hand against the glass, and hurrying from the lab.

  ***

  “Wait here,” said Lucy to her assigned driver, as they pulled up before the security barriers. To their left, The Stars and Stripes flew proudly from the power plant entrance. Yellow and orange algae clung to the steel pole, clustering densely at the base and fading towards the tip, giving it a sunset tinge. Lucy hopped from the car and slipped between the security barriers on foot. In the center of the lot was a security booth, where a flustered guard stumbled out to halt Lucy
’s approach. She flashed her department credentials and demanded the whereabouts of two particular workers. The guard directed her towards a red brick building, behind which two beige chimneys reached into the sky, each churning out thick columns of steam.

  Lucy hastened into the building, donning her mask and gloves, as per Adrian’s orders. A worker led her through a corridor full of tall grey panel boards. Each was fitted with a blue control interface that resembled a calculator, red and green status lights, and orange Danger signs, warning of the extreme voltage contained within.

  Lucy stuffed her fingers in her ears as they entered the turbine hall. Vast combustion engines filled the air with the high-pitched hum of several jet engines. Her guide, with ear plugs fitted, interrupted two workers who were examining a control panel. He introduced Lucy, then returned to his duties.

  Lucy’s heart sank as she saw the pair; both were showing early signs of lesions on their necks and cheeks. She flashed her badge and urged them to find somewhere private, aware of the irony as she strained to be heard above the machinery. The woman looked puzzled but led the way across the hall, through a corridor, to a control room, where the ambient white noise faded to a distant whisper. Monitors across the room displayed flow charts, indicating the status of each part of the plant.

  “What’s this about?” said the woman. She had small round ears, upon which rested a pair of safety glasses. Muddy blonde hair poked out from beneath her hard hat, and came together in a greasy pony tail at the back. Her fingers were dark with soot and engine oil, and smudge marks were streaked across her white cheeks.

  The man beside her wore the same high vis jacket and safety gear. His unruly, center-parted black hair curled outwards as it dusted his collar. A pattern of pinkish-red lined his jawbone, hiding among his dark stubble.

  “Listen to me, we don’t have much time. You both caught something off Gabby. She’s in your block, right? She’s become infected with a disease linked to the D4 creatures. We have reason to believe you might be infected too. The government wants to quarantine you,” said Lucy.