Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  “You know about them?” said Karys, alarmed.

  “Everybody knows about them, and everybody wants one, don’t they? Maybe I should’ve kissed more ass when I was in DC,” said the medic bitterly.

  “They’re experimental, we don’t know if they’re operationally viable yet,” said Karys, tentatively.

  “Y’all been on three missions now, and it’s the folks without your jackets who ain’t making it. Hook me up – I want one. You must have a spare? A prototype?” said the medic.

  “I’m sorry, that’s out of our hands,” said Karys.

  “It’s no bother. I’ll just wait till y’all are asleep,” said the medic, with a laugh.

  Lucy and Karys stared at him with unease.

  “Tell me again how you found out about these? They’re classified,” said Karys.

  “They sure are. Protection for VIPs only, right? Yet nobody sent one for the Secretary of Agriculture. He’s pretty pissed, you know,” said the medic.

  The man on the trolley spluttered, and some pinkish foam trickled down his cheek. His bloodshot eyes were popping as he tried in vain to speak.

  “Ssh, ssh, it’s gon’ be OK,” said the medic, placing a soothing arm on the man’s shoulder.

  The grey-haired man’s face contorted in pain, and the medic lifted his hand away, frowning with concern.

  “Don’t touch him. His body’s degrading, it’ll be agony for him. Kindest thing you can do is make it quick,” said Lucy.

  She tore herself away from the man’s death bed and kicked the trailer door open. She paced across the yard towards her tent, burying her face in her arm as the memory of Dan’s liquefying body ached like a wound ripped open. Thoughts of Lopez flooded in, mingling with Dan’s memory. She involuntarily conjured images of them both covered in lesions, their bodies jerking as they hung side by side from the lab ceiling. She cried out and sank to the floor in a squat, clutching her head and rocking on the spot, feeling like her skull was about to explode as guilt overwhelmed her.

  “Hey, you OK? Lucy?” said Karys, catching up.

  She placed a tentative hand on Lucy’s back. Karys said more words of reassurance, but Lucy couldn’t process them. She was faintly aware of the woman stroking her, and of being eased into a sitting position, but the minutes stretched by in a blur. Karys held out a bottle of water instructively. Lucy hadn’t even noticed her leave to get it. She drank, and the liquid soothed her. After several more sips, she felt her mind clear.

  “If it’s about your situation, I swear I’m not gonna tell anyone,” said Karys.

  “It’s not that. It’s–”

  Lucy couldn’t bring herself to speak the awful truths that haunted her. She stared at Karys’s boots and tried to reground her broken mind.

  “If word gets out in DC that people here know about the jackets, it’ll be impossible to stop them making more. They work, for Christ’s sake, the argument’s already lost,” said Lucy.

  “Don’t give up – you said the powder can work even better than the blood. We’ll show them, OK? But I agree, we need to get to DC quickly. There’s – oh man, I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” said Karys.

  “Telling me what?” said Lucy.

  “Look, I don’t know much, and it’s super classified, alright, I wasn’t even supposed to find out, but the Government’s preparing for some sort of event,” said Karys.

  “That could mean anything,” scowled Lucy.

  “It’s got something to do with the creatures – like, there’s a second wave coming. All I know is that the top brass are panicking. They’re going to recall all of the farm troops in the coming days,” said Karys.

  “And abandon the food crisis?” said Lucy.

  “Whatever it is that’s coming, they’re more scared of it than they are of mass starvation,” said Karys.

  Lucy’s mind worked fast. If the Government was recalling the rural troops, rumors of the protective blood jackets would quickly leak to the domestic soldiers. Demand would surge. It would be impossible for the Government to deny the military access to them on a massive scale. Trying to be heard above the panic would be near impossible.

  “We have to get to DC before the recall,” said Lucy, rising to her feet. “It’s the only chance we have. If we miss it, the blood operation will be unstoppable.”

  ***

  Lucy lowered the soil sample into the turtle-dillo’s cage, in front of the creature’s neck cavity. It didn’t respond. She nudged the soil closer to its head and waited. A cautious, slender, tongue extended out from the shadow of the shell, and onto the bowl of soil before it. The dexterous organ slapped around the sides of the bowl, like a hand feeling around in the dark, before it plunged into the middle. The creature oozed pink saliva onto the soil, and spread it across the surface like wallpaper paste, before sucking it back up – taking the coated layer of soil with it.

  Lucy seized her opportunity and slid the bowl a few inches away from the turtle. It stretched its tongue forwards and lapped up more of the coated soil. Lucy edged the bowl further again, repeating the motion several times until she’d coaxed the starving turtle from its shell.

  With the creature’s head fully extended, and its weak legs slowly reaching for the ground, Lucy grabbed her pole.

  “Now!” she said.

  She, Karys, and Ruth moved as one, each protected by a hazmat suit. They pinned the creature’s limbs down using lasso-tipped animal control poles, and secured them against the reinforced operating table. The turtle was too weak to retract its limbs, and in any case seemed content to focus on the food before it.

  Lucy clapped her hands in triumph; the creature’s scaly hind leg was covered in a layer of white powder, as was the tip of its neck. She picked up a scalpel and made an incision into the creature’s hind leg. The turtle flinched, and tugged against the restraints, but they held firm.

  “Ugh, gross,” said Lucy, as the turtle’s tongue wrapped around its body and slathered saliva over the arm of Lucy’s suit.

  Karys shifted the food bowl around to the opposite side of the turtle’s head, but it paid no attention, so she forced it to face away, using the stronghold they had around its neck.

  Lucy gripped the turtle’s leg with one hand, then hesitated. She could feel its pulse. This living creature was a herbivore. It posed no direct threat. A pang of guilt nagged at her as she held the scalpel above its skin.

  “What’s the holdup?” said Karys, keeping pressure against the turtle’s neck.

  This creature is one of them. It’s a D4. It deserves this. Lucy recited the mantra in her head until she was ready to believe it. Other lives depended on them procuring the powder. Human lives. This is the only way. With a decisive strike, she cleaved a layer of white powder-infected skin away from the turtle’s leg. The creature hissed and trembled in pain.

  “Cry all you like, we didn’t start this thing. Your lot found us,” said Ruth, dispassionately, as she held its front legs tight.

  Lucy deposited the strip of powdery flesh in a container, then turned her attention back to the creature’s shin, which was clotting with extreme efficiency as a layer of Gen Water formed over the wound. Lucy peered at the thick grey bone nestled between the layers of muscle and fat. It was coated in flecks of white, which became denser towards the creature’s foot, where the bone disappeared behind skin once again.

  “Don’t question yourself, just get it done,” said Ruth, as Lucy stared at the limb. “Besides, we need to hurry up. I got orders to move this truck to the edge of the site before nightfall, remember? They want our little friend here kept well away from the sleeping quarters.”

  Karys fidgeted, adjusting her yellow-striped flak jacket. She conspicuously re-arranged the blood pouch inside, needlessly fussing over the plastic corners. It was clear provocation. And it worked.

  Lucy thought of Lopez, and the other infecteds in Harvey’s custody, and the suffering they were enduring at his hands in the name of progress. She took a deep breath,
and grabbed the turtle’s leg.

  She carved the flesh away from either side, slicing through tendons and sinews, and peeling the healthy tissue away until just the creature’s bone remained, protruding from its fleshy shell, and quivering in agony. Lucy seized the exposed bone tip and examined the base. It was pure white, fading to grey the further up the leg she looked.

  She dropped the scalpel, tore off her gloves and apron, and rushed from the trailer. She marched across the yard towards the campfire, ignoring the alarmed looks of the farmers and soldiers, who gave her a wide berth – wary of her remaining lab gear. She accosted the cook, who was chopping potatoes by the campfire.

  “Throw me the grater,” she demanded.

  He looked at her, perplexed. Lucy tugged her facemask down and yelled.

  “I’m not fucking around. Give me the God damn grater!”

  The cook hastily threw it her way. Lucy snatched it off the ground and stormed back to the lab, slamming the door behind her.

  She reclaimed her gloves and apron, disinfected the grater, then approached the operating table. Ruth and Karys watched on queasily as she took the implement to the creature’s bone and shaved at it hard, with grim determination. Tough shards of white fell onto the table in curls, as Lucy rubbed frantically, until she struck pure grey.

  “Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” said Karys, alarmed.

  “Lucy?” said Ruth, concerned.

  Lucy bit her lip in concentration, as she grated faster and harder against the screaming turtle’s leg. She embraced the burning fatigue in her arm as she shredded its raw bone into a pile.

  “I said that’s enough,” said Ruth, grabbing hold of Lucy and wrestling her away from the table.

  Lucy broke free and glared at Ruth, furiously. Her eyes darted to Karys, who looked regretful. Ruth reached out a consoling hand, but Lucy batted it away. She threw the grater onto the floor with a clatter. She tore off her gloves, and suit, kicked the door open, and stormed off into the camp.

  ***

  Adrian clicked the lid back on the fountain pen and set it down on his desk, beside the contract.

  “I trust that satisfies you,” he said, sliding the bundle of papers across the table with contempt.

  He stood abruptly, scratching the wooden chair against the floor, and fastening his blazer buttons.

  “If that will be all, Ms Young,” he addded, bitterly, stowing his reading glasses in his top pocket and pacing towards the door. He paused with his palm on the handle, and turned back once more. With a legal background himself, and three decades in public office under his belt, the various certificates, diplomas, and commendations hanging from the attorney’s wall could as well have been his own.

  “I never thought it would come to this. Such lies,” he said, with utter disappointment in his voice.

  “Thank you for your time, Senator. My client believes you are best suited to execute her late partner’s will, and we appreciate your cooperation in the matter,” said Lucy’s attorney, collecting the papers from the desk.

  “Adrian, wait,” said Lucy, rising from the rigid oak armchair. As she stepped forward, the ground seemed to disappear beneath her. She fell spread-eagled across the fusty carpet. She quickly scrambled for her seat, blushing furiously, as her attorney helped her back up. She looked down at her leg. It was a stump. A thick, blood-soaked bandage covered her knee cap.

  “Who did – when did–” she stammered, staring at the amputation in horror.

  Adrian shook his head pitifully and pulled the door open, letting in a frigid breeze. He lifted a yellow-striped flak jacket from the coat rack by the door, and departed without another word.

  ***

  Lucy sat up sharply. Outside the tent there was shouting. Ruth’s bed was empty. Stuttering gunfire rang out. Lucy hit the deck, and hastily pulled on her boots and uniform as best she could in the darkness.

  A loud crack rang out through the air, prompting cries and further shots. Lucy crawled to the edge of the tent and peered out. The air was filled with thick fog, backlit by strong moonlight. Voices called out in confusion through the opaque air.

  The ground shook. Something heavy was moving in her direction. The dark shadow grew taller and broader by the second. A fiery blast shot across the fog, turning the mist into a blinding mass of white. Within a split second, the rocket-propelled grenade exploded into the side of the vast creature.

  Lucy’s reflexes threw her to the ground and into a ball. A tearing sound came from above, followed by a thud and a sizzle, as a hunk of the dismembered creature pierced the canvas roof and landed beside her. She stared at it in horror. The smoldering flesh was thick, and grey, like an elephant hide, but coated with dots like those of a whale shark.

  A second lump of flesh landed in front of Lucy’s open tent flap and rolled towards her. It was a severed trunk. A fine mist was billowing from the tip, quite separate to the smoke rising from its scorched skin.

  A buzzing noise filled the air, prompting cries of “Get down!” across the camp. A jet of glowing blue droplets soared through the white fog, followed by a deafening crack as lightning shot between them. The arching droplets acted like a path finder for the electrical charge, creating a lethal bridge between the creature and its target. The glow briefly illuminated the soldier with the rocket launcher, before he collapsed to the ground in flames.

  The sound of engines starting rumbled through the air, accompanied by calls of “Evacuate!”

  Lucy rose to her feet and sprinted from the tent, following the sound of the nearest engine. But within a few dozen yards she was completely lost amid the swirling white fog. She’d reached a stack of crates she didn’t recognize. As she tried to find her bearings, a second giant figure loomed towards her. The creature’s vivid green retinas glinted through the mist. Lucy’s mouth dropped open as a pair of slow-moving wings came into focus on either side of the vast creature, fanning the vapor towards her.

  The air crackled. She froze, paralyzed. A patter of footsteps careered towards her. Lucy’s eyes widened as a jet of blue droplets soared into the air.

  Out of nowhere, Lucy felt a body plough into her from the side, sending her flying. A bolt of blue lightening exploded into the crates where she had stood seconds before. She cowered as splinters of wood and fire flew through the air, igniting the surrounding tents.

  “Come on!” yelled Ruth, hauling Lucy to her feet and dragging her away from the blaze.

  A fresh wave of crackling was growing louder by the second. Terrified, Lucy ran through the fog, chasing Ruth’s retreating figure. The mist flashed brightly, the air cracked like a whip, and someone screamed in agony.

  Something red glowed up ahead. Tail lights. It was the lab vehicle. As they raced towards it, the engine sprung to life, and the truck lurched away.

  “Wait!” cried Ruth, in despair, banging the metal bodywork as she raced to keep pace.

  The vehicle slammed to a halt. The door swung open.

  “Get in!” yelled Karys.

  FOUR

  Prove it

  _____________________________________

  The guard frowned as she compared Karys’s photo ID to her exhausted countenance.

  “Wait here,” she said, turning on her heel and disappearing indoors.

  Lucy craned her neck, studying the holding bay. It was similar to the gate she and Ruth had entered through a couple of weeks back, only there were fewer soldiers patrolling this portion of the wall. Their guard conferred with someone behind a doorway.

  Lucy shifted in her seat, anxiously. She was exhausted, and on edge. Her paranoid brain turned every minor crackle into the fuzzing electrical precursor to a lightening strike from one of the mist creatures. She tugged compulsively at the hem of her jacket. The screams and burning bodies of the ambushed soldiers and farmers haunted her.

  When the guard returned, her hands were clad in blue latex gloves, and she was carrying a tray.

  “Swab your mouths, then drop the sticks in one o
f the jars,” she ordered, holding the tray through the window.

  Lucy picked hers up and hesitated, examining the cotton bud at the tip of the wood.

  “What’s this for?” said Ruth.

  “If you wanna enter the city, you gotta do the swab,” said the guard, resting the tray on the frame of the lowered passenger window.

  A muffled loudhailer echoed from inside the city, followed by the distant roar of a crowd. The guard turned her head towards the sound and sighed wearily.

  Karys hastily swabbed her mouth, then shoved the glistening sample into Lucy’s hand, in exchange for Lucy’s dry one.

  The guard looked back at the three newcomers. “You done or what?” she said, tetchily.

  Lucy and Ruth each deposited their samples into a beaker, while Karys quickly swabbed her mouth a second time, before following suit. The three solutions turned from blue to green.

  A hissing-moaning sound came from the rear of the vehicle, followed by a clang.

  “I’m gonna need to see inside the trailer,” said the guard, setting the tray down on a crate behind her.

  “That’s not possible,” said Karys.

  “Open it up, or you’re not getting inside the city,” said the guard, irritably.

  “It’s classified. We’ve got a research delivery for the hospital. It’s really better for everyone if you don’t bother yourself with–” began Karys.

  “The hell with that,” said the guard, stepping away from the door and marching to the rear of the vehicle, pistol in hand.

  “Don’t go in!” cried Karys, leaping after the soldier.

  Lucy climbed out after her, rushing to the rear, where the soldier pulled the lab door open.

  “What the hell?” cried the soldier.

  Startled by the influx of daylight, the powder-tipped, mutilated turtle let out a desperate rasp, straining its head forwards. It rocked sideways against its restraints, which were covered in pink saliva on one side. It fell from the operating table onto the floor, with a heavy thud, landing on its back, where it let out a pained rasp, as four screw-shaped tusks deployed themselves uselessly into the air.