Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  “Like, isolation?” said the man.

  “Yes, but you can’t let that happen,” said Lucy.

  “I’m not planning on it, I’m outta here,” said the man.

  “Wait! You can’t leave. If you do, you’ll get caught,” said Lucy.

  “I’ve made it this far, I’ll take my chances,” said the man.

  “It started small, right?” said Lucy, as the man marched towards the door.

  He paused and looked at her.

  “The rash – I bet it started as a dot on your back, or chest, or wherever. Now it’s spread all over. In the next twenty four hours, you’re gonna get so weak you won’t be able to walk. Your skin’s gonna blister, and shrivel, and you’re gonna start to hallucinate. If you want to live, you need to lay low and get to this address as quickly as possible. Head for the basement. Don’t let anyone see you,” said Lucy, scribbling the law office location down on a piece of paper.

  “Can’t you take us there?” said the man.

  “There are more like you - I have to find them before the government does,” said Lucy.

  “Why should we trust you?” interjected the woman, snatching the paper.

  “If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life – which will be short, and excruciating,” said Lucy.

  “Can you at least get us out of here? If the authorities are looking for people like us, it’ll look suspicious if we try and disappear. You could make it look like you’re arresting us or whatever,” said the man.

  “Too risky. I can’t let my chauffeur see you – he’d report you. You’ll have to wait till I’m gone, then make a move. Tell your supervisor you’re escorting me to the lobby, then at least you’ll be near the exit,” said Lucy.

  “I’m not sure about this,” said the woman.

  “You don’t have a choice. Let’s go,” said Lucy.

  The man stepped into the corridor. At the same time, the door at the far end opened, letting in the hum of turbine noise. A figure stood in the far threshold, clutching a clipboard through latex gloves, with a mask covering her face, and a white lab coat hanging from her slender shoulders. It was the young technician from Lopez’s lab.

  The technician spotted the man’s lesions immediately. She waved and beckoned him towards her. Lucy grabbed the man and pulled him back into the room. The technician set off toward them at a pace. She pulled a radio from her pocket and issued hasty instructions as she advanced along the rows of electrical paneling.

  “We need to find another way out, now,” said Lucy.

  “Who is that?” said the man.

  “She’s from my department. They’re looking for you, for all of you. You have to get us out of here,” said Lucy.

  “No, we should turn ourselves in – they’ll help us, they have to,” said the woman anxiously.

  “They will kill you,” said Lucy, shaking her.

  “This way!” called the man, shoving open a door on the far side of the control room. Lucy grabbed the woman by the arm and ran after him.

  “Hey, stop!” cried the technician, breaking into a run.

  Lucy and the woman rushed after the man, winding their way through a series of rooms, ignoring the cries of “stop!” echoing behind them.

  They sped through a staff waiting room, stumbling over outstretched legs and dodging tatty furniture. A worker rose to his feet, with a white bread roll in-hand and tried to hail his fleeing colleague.

  “Yo, Brenda, someone’s looking for you,” he called as they raced by.

  They hurried through into another corridor. It was long, and tunnel-like. Thick green steel pipes ran the length of the building, segmented by regularly-spaced pressure dials. The green paint was flecked with yellow speckles of sweating algae.

  “Careful!” cried Lucy, catching the infected man as he slipped on the metal grill below them. She looked at where he’d trodden, spotting thin, rust-tinted roots poking up through the mesh.

  More cries echoed behind them. They rushed to the far end of the corridor where Brenda slammed on the grey panic bar, flinging the orange emergency exit door open. Lucy squinted as they emerged into the open yard, and raced across the tar towards the service entrance.

  “Stop them!” called the technician, sprinting after them.

  A patrol truck sped around the corner, cutting off the group’s escape. The infected man changed tack immediately and sprinted towards an adjacent building. Lucy and Brenda raced after him, rushing inside the darkened block, all three of them closely pursued by the technician.

  The dark building was a claustrophobic labyrinth of even more pipes and endless cabling.

  “Hurry! This w-” began the man, weaving between the metalwork. But as he disappeared further inside, his voice cut off with a cry of horror.

  Lucy and Brenda piled into the man’s back as he ground to an abrupt halt. Spotting the danger, Lucy clamped a hand over Brenda’s mouth before she could scream.

  Protruding through the broken concrete were dozens of twig-like rusty stems. They stood around two foot high, in a horseshoe formation, packed tightly together like fence slats. In the center, curled up, was a glistening, four-legged creature. It was furless; covered only in a layer of skin so pale it was translucent, revealing a network of veins and cartilage beneath.

  “You’re under arrest,” called the technician, bursting into the room after them.

  The creature twitched. Lucy stepped back and frantically gestured to the technician to be silent. At that same moment the patrol soldiers burst in through the far entrance, sending a shaft of light across the building’s metal intestines.

  “Freeze!” called the foremost soldier, targeting Lucy’s group.

  “Wait!” cried Lucy, but it was too late.

  The creature’s head snapped up. It sprang onto all fours with its back arched, revealing a segmented exoskeleton like a pangolin’s. Its wet skin pulled taught, and the creature let out a rasp like a steam valve being released. Its translucence vanished as swirling pigments activated across its body like colored dye being dropped into water. The creature faded into shimmer, blending with its dark, metallic surroundings. With a snarl, it began bounding towards them, laying a trail of wet footprints heading straight for the group.

  “Run!” cried Lucy, as the wet slaps of paws striking concrete bore down upon them.

  Brenda tripped in the confusion, colliding with Lucy and sending them both crashing to the ground. The infected man leaped over them and kept running for the exit, where the technician stood, transfixed.

  Lucy shielded her face in fear as the shimmering creature pounced. With a rasp it leaped clean over her and Brenda and continued sprinting. It swiftly closed in on the fleeing man, squeezing alongside him. The creature barged him out of the way and bounded on towards the technician. The scientist stumbled back from the doorway in shock, retreating into the yard. The darkness of Lucy’s building framed the woman perfectly, as she turned to flee.

  The shimmering creature hurtled across the threshold. In an instant, the sunlight erased its camouflage and returned its skin to translucence. The creature leaped, unabated, and with a single great bound pounced upon the technician, sinking its claws into her back.

  She fell with a scream as the creature landed hard upon her. It let out a guttural rasp, preparing to bite, when bullets rang out, punching through its torso. The creature straightened up and swayed, stumbling away, before collapsing as several more bullets tore through its body.

  Lucy scrambled up from the floor and raced outside into the lot, to the splayed technician. She fell to her knees and surveyed the woman’s lacerated back in horror. She rolled her over. The technician’s eyes were wide with fear and disbelief. The young woman tried to speak as blood spluttered up between her lips. She reached a trembling hand up towards Lucy’s face, then fell still.

  “Target eliminated,” called a soldier, as he reached the creature’s carcass.

  “Yo, Beckly, we got a civilian down,” called the s
econd soldier, arriving at Lucy’s side.

  Lucy stared at him in disbelief.

  “I know you,” she said, astonished.

  The soldier ignored her as he urgently checked the bleeding technician for signs of life.

  “Yo, Hoffstein, shall I call an ambulance?” said Beckly, abandoning the dead creature and approaching the fallen technician.

  “No – no hospital,” said Lucy, interjecting.

  “Quiet. You’re under arrest,” said Hoffstein, examining the dead technician’s wounds, which had clotted rapidly.

  “For what?” said Lucy.

  “Aiding and abettin’, disobeyin’ orders, manslaughter, take your pick – I reckon this woman’s death is on you,” he said.

  “It’s Private Hoffstein, right?” said Lucy, pulling off her face mask and addressing him more closely.

  The soldier looked up at Lucy properly and his eyes widened in recognition.

  “You’re sick,” said Lucy, pointing to the red skin around his collar.

  Hoffstein stepped back from her and raised his gun, bracing the rifle against his shoulder as he fixed her in the sight.

  “Oh my god,” said Brenda, as she and the infected man caught up, tentatively approaching the fresh body.

  “Get out of here – now, before more people come,” insisted Lucy.

  The pair of plant workers backed away fearfully and made for the service exit.

  “Stay right where you are,” insisted Beckly, glaring at the workers.

  “I know you too – you’re the other one, from the video. You were with Major Lopez on that mission,” said Lucy, standing up.

  “How do you know about that?” said Beckly, eyeing her up.

  “She was at the Medical Council,” said Hoffstein.

  “You’re infected. Both of you are, just like them,” said Lucy, gesturing to the workers.

  “Fuck you, I’m fine,” said Beckly, spitting.

  “I can see it on your skin, asshole. You won’t be able to hide it from other people much longer,” said Lucy.

  “What are you saying?” said Hoffstein.

  “The outbreak’s spreading. Major Lopez wasn’t the source. Which means one of you fuckers was lying about what happened on that mission,” said Lucy.

  Hoffstein and Beckly looked at each other uneasily. Lucy gestured to the infected workers to go while she kept the soldiers distracted.

  “Is the Major OK? I felt real bad turning him in, but the Department got these posters sayin’ it’s our duty, like, we gotta report stuff,” said Hoffstein, anxiously.

  “He’s being tortured as we speak. If you don’t help me, the same thing will happen to the pair of you. So you’d better quit playing dumb and tell me what actually went down,” said Lucy.

  “I was telling the truth,” said Hoffstein, earnestly

  “Me too,” said Beckly, scratching his neck anxiously.

  “There were four of you. Where’s the fourth guy?” said Lucy.

  “Leckford? I dunno, I’ve not seen him since the mission,” said Beckly.

  “Christ. We have to find him right now – on your heads be it if we’re already too late,” said Lucy.

  ***

  Beckly creaked the door open, warily. The dorm stank of sweat and stale air. The blinds were drawn, and dust swirled in the shafts of light that poked between the gaps.

  “Leckford, you here?” said Beckly, edging forwards.

  The top floor of the barracks was deserted, save for an untidy pile of blankets on the furthest bunk.

  “Leckford?” repeated Beckly.

  The floorboards creaked underfoot as he nudged closer.

  “We just wanna talk, bud,” said Hoffstein.

  With a roar, Leckford leapt up from the bed, clutching a knife in his hand. He staggered out into the central aisle between the two rows of bunks and the blanket fell away, revealing the raw mass of lesions across his body.

  “Shit,” cried Beckly, backing up.

  “Put the knife down, dude, we’re here to help,” said Hoffstein, lowering his gun, and raising his hands peacefully.

  Leckford shifted from side to side as his eyes flitted between the soldiers.

  “Just take it nice and easy there, friend, put the blade away,” continued Hoffstein, taking a cautious step closer.

  With a yell, Leckford lunged towards him, slashing with the knife as he went. Hoffstein leaped to the side, into a gulley between two bunks, but Leckford jumped after him, trapping Hoffstein against the wall. As Leckford raised the knife to slash again, Beckly rushed in and clubbed the lesioned soldier with his rifle.

  Leckford slid to the ground, still clutching the knife. Hoffstein fell upon him, pinning his arm and prizing the blade away, while Beckly knelt on Leckford’s back until he ceased struggling. After a few moments the disease-addled soldier conceded, and his breathing slowed. Beckly dragged him up by the arms and propped him against the gulley wall.

  It had taken them over an hour to track Leckford down. It transpired he’d deserted his post, and bribed another soldier to cover for him. It was Beckly who’d suggested checking the disused portion of the barracks. However, trying to avoid detection had slowed their search significantly, costing Lucy precious time against the other technicians.

  “It’s no good, he’s hallucinating,” said Lucy, thumping a bedpost in frustration.

  “I ain’t hallucinating shit. It’s you guys who trying to arrest me,” said Leckford, rubbing his head.

  “You knew it was us? And you still attacked me? Mother fucker!” said Hoffstein.

  “I wasn’t gonna do nothing, I was trying get you to back up,” said Leckford.

  “You lied about what happened on the field mission and because of it, the outbreak’s spreading. I need you to tell me the truth. Did you touch the bodies?” said Lucy, kneeling down before him and looking the soldier in the eye.

  “Who’s she?” said Leckford, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Just answer the question,” said Beckly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Leckford, looking away, shivering.

  “You can either tell me what happened and I’ll help you to survive, or you can keep lying, and I’ll hand you over to my lab, where they’ll torture you until you lose your mind,” said Lucy, calmly.

  This changed Leckford’s attitude somewhat. He looked at her with a flash of genuine fear. He glanced to Hoffstein and Beckly for reassurance but the pair stared back at him with loathing.

  “It was the gun,” said Leckford, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

  “What gun?” said Lucy.

  “The one they all killed themselves with – in the house,” said Leckford.

  “I thought it was Major Lopez who handled the gun? Private Hoffstein testified that it was the Major who put it in the guy’s hand?” said Lucy.

  “Yeah, and when he was done, I stole it, alright?” said Leckford.

  “Why?” said Beckly, appalled.

  “Because they don’t feed us shit here, and I knew I could sell it,” said Leckford, bitterly.

  “Who did you sell it to?” said Lucy.

  “Some baker in Petworth,” said Leckford.

  “I need a name,” said Lucy.

  “I don’t know it, she’s just some woman. It’s not a government thing, she does it on the side,” said Leckford.

  “You mean it’s black market?” said Beckly.

  “No such thing in a free country,” said Leckford.

  Hoffstein’s radio crackled, calling on him and Beckly to report in.

  Lucy straightened up resolutely.

  “Get yourselves to this address. There’ll be others there. Wait with them in the basement. Take ropes – you’ll need to restrain each other. Do not get seen. If you’re caught, we all die,” said Lucy, scribbling down the location of the law office.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” said Beckly.

  “That depends on whether you make it there or not. I have to find
the baker and stop the outbreak. Get to this address, I’ll come for you,” said Lucy, ignoring the soldiers’ calls for answers and dashing for the exit.

  TEN

  Betrayed

  __________________________________________

  It was early evening. Her feet ached, and the streets of Petworth were becoming busier. Lucy knew that as each minute passed, her chances of extracting the baker, without being seen, were shrinking.

  Tired-looking workers were arriving home, spilling out of half-full buses and diffusing into the assortment of row houses and duplexes available. The air was mild, and the first hues of orange and pink were creeping into the sky.

  As she traipsed the streets, part of her regretted giving her driver the slip back at the power plant. Of course, it had been the only way to search for Leckford without the department finding out, but going off-grid had cost her precious time.

  She tried asking passers-by where the baker could be found, but the workers were wary of her, and gave evasive, nervous excuses. Lucy swiftly ditched the face mask and gloves, and took a more casual tone, asking around if anyone knew where she could buy some bread. Eventually, a young man gave her directions to a residence a couple of blocks away.

  Lucy climbed the brick steps and approached the three-story row house. She stepped beneath the pillared porch and knocked firmly on the fake oak composite door. The curtain of the bay window twitched. She knocked again, aggressively, until a woman cracked the door open, revealing just one half of her face.

  “No more tenant, house full,” said the woman, glaring at Lucy suspiciously.

  “I’m not a tenant, I’m here to speak with the baker,” said Lucy.

  “You got warrant?” said the woman.

  “No, I’m here as a friend,” began Lucy, but the woman slammed the door shut and flicked the lock.

  Lucy glanced around and tried to raise her voice through the closed door, without drawing attention from passing commuters.