Convulsive Box Set

by Marcus Martin

  “I could go and report back?” said Maurice, with a nervous smile.

  “Sure, because the last time I trusted you it worked out perfectly,” said Lucy, coldly. “Here’s the deal. You’re gonna tell Harvey we’ve just met, and that I was telling you about his ‘pioneering’ and ‘brave’ research. You’re going to flatter his scientific ego until he thinks you’re his personal cheerleader. Then tell him you want to invite me and Karys to accompany you on the inspection. If you succeed, I’ll get you the drugs you need. If you fail, we’re all dead. Got it?”

  The door rattled. Karys intervened loudly, with a desperate cry of “One more thing, Director,” as she ran thin on stalling tactics.

  Lucy knelt before Adrian. She took his hand in hers.

  “I never meant for things to turn out like this. You are my family – my only family. We can fix this, OK? I can make this right. The thing I want more than anything is a cure. I promise you, we’ll find a one together,” she implored.

  Adrian pulled his hand away.

  “You can do what you want, I’m turning myself in,” he said, distantly.

  “No! You mustn’t – please, Adrian, I need you. Other people need you,” said Lucy, fully remembering the reason she’d come to him in the first place. “Harvey’s feeding political prisoners to D4 creatures. You have to stop him.”

  “I already tried,” snapped Adrian, slamming his palm against the table.

  “You mean…You know what he’s doing?”

  “The White House has given him free reign. You’ve seen the protests – the Government’s lost the support of the people. The only way they can keep the army on side is with Harvey’s new invention. They’re turning a blind eye to his methods, because it gets them what they want,” said Adrian, rubbing his temples.

  “But you’re part of the Government. Surely you can do something to change their minds?” said Lucy.

  “I want to avoid a civil war, Lucy. If the people rise up, there’ll be bloodshed and fighting that could last for weeks. The creatures would pick us apart with ease. Any razor thin chance we have of reversing massive societal regression will vanish for centuries. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. But maybe it’s too late. Perhaps our extinction has become inevitable,” said Adrian.

  “Adrian, don’t give up. I know everything’s a mess but I promise it can get better. You have to tell the opposition what’s happening. Get it to the press – whoever controls the billboards. The people have to know. It has to come from you; someone both sides trust,” said Lucy.

  “If I blow the whistle, it could spark mass violence,” said Adrian.

  “Then negotiate with Raya. She’s the opposition leader, she’ll listen to you. The truth has to get out – public scrutiny is the only thing that can stop someone like Harvey. Infecteds and protestors are both in mortal danger from his methods. If people knew the truth, they could force the Government to back down. You have to make them understand – the city’s only hope for survival lies with the infecteds. But they can’t help if they’re being secretly incarcerated. You must tell the people,” urged Lucy.

  Adrian stood and buttoned up his blazer. He examined his hand, turning it over, looking for changes. It trembled.

  “I will expose the political prisoners’ deaths, and I will tell them about the blood-letting. Then I will admit myself to the hospital for processing. I will not allow other people to fall ill because of me,” he said, pointedly.

  The office door clicked open, and Harvey stepped in brightly. Karys peered over his shoulder, anxiously.

  “Ah, here we are. Maurice, is it? Nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand but we have a ‘no touching’ rule across the city, while this outbreak continues.”

  Maurice transformed into his most slippery and charming self, slicking his hair back and fixing Harvey with a ravishing smile.

  “Director, it’s an honor to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about your work.”

  SEVEN

  The Farm

  ___________________________________________

  The prison entrance was at the rear of the complex, tucked away in a back street. There, a single lane halted before a set of gates. The building’s pinkish stone was infused with patches of blue algae. Pressing against the perimeter wall was a rust-colored tree. At its feet lay two hollowed out branches, around which lay a plethora of curled golden-red leaves.

  A guard beckoned them through a vehicle scanner that arched overhead. The watchtower to Lucy’s right was unmanned. The first guard made a cursory check of Harvey’s security pass, greeting the director by name as he did so. Maurice leaned forward and made of point of introducing himself. The guard paid him little attention, and signaled to his colleague to open the gate, which retracted sideways like a telescope.

  The group disembarked and approached the entrance. Lucy’s heart sank as she took in the scale of the facility. She counted seven floors on some of the buildings, which were packed tightly together. By her reckoning, if the place was even half full, they’d be looking at thousands of infecteds inside.

  The prison’s reception had a welcome kiosk, and a series of scanners and gates. The guard there waved them through casually. A faint dripping echoed from the corner of the ceiling, where a fern was growing. Beads of liquid trickled from its vibrant green tips onto the floor, where they seeped into crevices beneath the walls.

  “You’re not gonna search us?” said Maurice.

  “We ain’t no prison for people no more. Y’all feel free to smuggle in whatever y’all like, ain’t gonna make no difference here,” shrugged the guard. “Know where you’re going?”

  “We do, thank you,” said Harvey.

  They each took a pair of gloves and a mask from the kiosk, then passed through the turnstile one after another.

  “Just a precaution, of course. Don’t worry, all the patients are securely contained,” said Harvey, striding into the first ward. “It’s not your conventional farm, by any means, but we do what we can.”

  The corridor ahead was dark. Slits of daylight shone in from narrow windows at the tops of the walls. As they passed along the corridor, figures shuffled forwards from the cells. A fervor passed through the corridor as the residents realized they had visitors.

  Like meat through a mincer, a mass of arms stretched out between the bars lining each cell. Their skin was covered in lesions and blisters, and their parched voices grew increasingly desperate as they croaked for help.

  “Do you feed them?” said Maurice, as they crossed the hallway.

  “These subjects are at the first stage of their infection. From mine and Lucy’s work on Patient Zero, we established that food deprivation can accelerate the disease. That is precisely what we want here. The quicker the subjects mature, the sooner we can harvest,” said Harvey.

  Lucy grimaced as she caught a waft of the prisoners’ pungent, yeasty breaths. Their lips and tongues were cracked and blistered. Two prisoners fought each other for access to a patch of wall, where damp algae grew. The victor elbowed their rival out of the way and licked the blue stones thirstily.

  “They look seriously dehydrated,” said Karys.

  “We restrict their water intake to a bare minimum at these early stages. It means the amount of pathogen in their bloodstream becomes more concentrated,” said Harvey.

  They reached the end of the ward, and Harvey swiped his pass, leading them into the next wing.

  “This is where the magic starts to happen,” he said, with a wink.

  Lucy drew her collar over her nose as the pungent stench of feces and urine hit her.

  “These subjects are ready to be bled within the next twenty-four hours. Their delirium makes them weak, which helps with the harvest,” said Harvey.

  The wretched patients lay in the shadows, packed into over-crowded cells. They wallowed in their own bodily discharges, quivering with fever, and muttering with delusions.

  Someone grunted from a cell up ahead. Lucy approach
ed, nervously. A thin woman, covered in lesions, was muttering to herself, in between grunts. She was upright, but her leg was moving sporadically in sharp jerks. Beneath her lay another woman, motionless. Her face was bloodied, and swollen, and her jaw broken. Her body pulsated with each impact, as the muttering woman above her stamped down, barefoot, against her head. The pace was slow. A stamp every several seconds. The attacking woman was tired, and held onto the bars for stability. She contemplated each move, cursing the woman beneath her, before raising her heel once again. She seemed utterly impervious to the group’s presence.

  “Uh, is that normal?” said Maurice, following Lucy’s gaze.

  “It occurs in around five percent of the population. It is, of course regrettable, but we lack the resources to monitor and isolate problematic subjects. Happily, ninety five percent of subjects make it through to the processing room in acceptable health,” said Harvey, leading onward.

  They ascended a staircase to the next level, and doubled back on their original direction.

  “This is where we invest our resources,” said Harvey, proudly.

  Working the floor were a dozen or so technicians, in full hazmat suits. The cells were much less crowded – there were only two patients in each. Both were strapped into the lowest bunks, where an intravenous drip was threaded into their forearms.

  Maurice licked his lips nervously, trying to strike a breezy, entrepreneurial tone. “How long does it take to bleed one of these ‘infecteds’ dry?”

  “We don’t bleed them dry – we need to ensure we have a sustainable supply of their blood. We only take a pint or two from each subject. Then they’re moved upstairs to the rehabilitation wards. They recover there for a few days. We give them a high-calorie liquid diet, administered in small doses to minimize waste from urination. Our preliminary findings suggest that infecteds can replenish their blood supply faster than humans,” said Harvey.

  Lucy tried to shut out Harvey’s words and focus on her reconnoiter. It was clear the staff were not concerned about rioting or breakouts here; the emaciated inmates simply didn’t have the strength. That was going to make evacuating them extremely difficult.

  “Faster than humans, you say? So what does that make these folk?” said Maurice, picking up on Harvey’s clinical detachment.

  “These subjects are no longer classed as genetically human. Their DNA has been irreversibly altered by this pathogen. A key outcome is that they’ve evolved to reproduce asexually, which is to say, the pathogen has rendered them as a distinct species. Of course, the silver lining for my lab is that these subjects no longer enjoy protection through the civil liberties afforded to human subjects. What we do here, is, of course, for our protection. It is done in service of those of us who remain biologically human. Don’t you agree?” said Harvey.

  “Uh, totally,” said Maurice.

  His cool veneer faltered as he looked anxiously around the rows of blood-letting cells.

  “I trust you will report this all back to your ‘queen’? I’m keen to convey the sustainability of our supply chain. I understand that this was a key concern she had?” said Harvey.

  “Ah, yes, indeed, indeed. Plenty to report back on,” said Maurice, slicking his hair back as his eyes darted around.

  “Fortunately, the blood-letting appears to disrupt their breeding cycle, so subjects aren’t needlessly expending energy on reproduction. However, your queen may be interested to know that we’re actively exploring the possibility of next-generation rearing, to see if we can optimize the yield. But I’m getting way ahead of myself – that is of course a much longer-term project. Perhaps we ought to stay focused on your immediate needs. Shall we press on?” said Harvey, with a twinkle.

  “Uh, I think I’ll pass. I’ve seen plenty to report back to my queen, thank you, Director,” said Maurice, who by now looked positively queasy.

  Harvey graciously led the group back to reception, sparing Maurice no detail of his lab’s capabilities along the way. Using the prison facility, and the adjacent, repurposed Youth Correctional Center, they were currently processing around nine thousand infecteds, each of whom produced around two liters of blood a week. Harvey said they were still ramping up production, but he expected them to reach optimal output within a fortnight. The Government, he said, proudly, had just commissioned a full rotating program of his blood bags, declaring that every on-duty soldier must be equipped with fresh, protective blood for each shift. He assured Maurice that the Queen would, therefore, be getting state of the art defensive technology, with a one hundred percent success rate of deterrence against contact creatures.

  “So we have a deal, then?” said Harvey, as they returned to the prison forecourt.

  “We have a deal, Director. An impressive facility. My queen will be thrilled. Are you on track for the first shipment?” said Maurice, assuming his finest sales patter.

  “We’re due to transfer it to the bottling plant tomorrow at noon,” said Harvey beaming.

  “Naturally, I’ll need to oversee the transfer of the collected, er, produce, from here to the packaging facility. A condition of my queen, you understand?” said Maurice.

  “Of course, one must always have confidence in a supplier. I’ll let the guards know to expect you tomorrow.”

  A technician passed by, wheeling a corpse on a trolley. The body was ghostly pale, and a slit ran across the width of their neck. Maurice let out a disconcerted groan.

  “Don’t be alarmed, he’s perfectly harmless,” chuckled Harvey.

  “I thought you didn’t bleed them dry?” said Maurice, trying not to gag.

  “The subjects’ blood pressure naturally drops during the blood-letting. Occasionally this proves fatal, and in those instances we take something of a ‘waste not, want not’ approach. To that end, this body will now be incinerated, providing vital energy for the city. This individual has given much for us to be grateful for,” said Harvey.

  Lucy stared at the prison grimly. Just as it had done in Boston, fear had poisoned the minds of the healthy humans. It had turned them against their infected neighbors. This building was just the beginning. For so long she’d been deluding herself that she could reverse the tide, if she got the right evidence to the right people. All of her efforts had come to nothing. She had to intervene decisively.

  If they were going to liberate the people inside, it was going to be a mammoth task, and she couldn’t do it alone. It was time to call in whatever favors she had left.

  EIGHT

  Prepare

  ____________________________________

  You heard correctly, listener. Senator Adrian Jeffries has broken ranks and is blowing the whistle on what he calls ‘unconscionable Government tactics’. The Senator has accused the Government of significant human rights violations against infected citizens and protestors alike. For many of you, this will come not as a shock, but as a bitter confirmation of what you’ve been suspecting for days, if not weeks. There is nothing this depraved regime won’t do to stay in power.

  The Senator has confirmed the existence of ‘secret labs’, claiming that infected people are effectively tortured in them before their blood is harvested. This, he claims, is happening despite the fact that a better, humane, alternative has been discovered.

  I regret to tell you: it gets worse. I know how many of you are searching for missing loved ones, friends, and neighbors. The police have been arresting peaceful protestors from our movement with no legal grounds to do so. I must inform you now that, according to Senator Jeffries, the Government has begun executing these brave political prisoners without trial. Most sickening of all, they are being fed to captive creatures. The Government hasn’t just failed to protect us from the beasts, now they’re doing the predators’ work for them. It is the ultimate betrayal.

  It is our understanding that the Senator himself has become infected in the line of duty, and has since reported to the hospital, where he will be processed alongside fellow infected citizens and political prisoners.
He has urged members of the People’s Voice to act peacefully but decisively, and has insisted that our only hope against the creatures is to stand united.

  Raya will be joining us later to give her thoughts on the Senator’s revelations, and we’ll be re-playing our interview with the Senator in full at the top of the hour. We’ve again asked the Government to comment on these fresh allegations, but they’ve responded by arresting our reporter. We will not tolerate this treatment. We will stand up. We will be heard. We are the People’s Voice.

  The station belted out a series of rousing anti-establishment classics, as Lucy’s group traversed the divided city. She felt deep relief that Adrian had fulfilled his promise, but she feared what would happen to him next. He was going to deteriorate quickly. There were only two options for him in the coming hours: end up in one of Harvey’s private labs, or be shipped to the ‘farm’. She didn’t know which was worse. Guilt boiled within her. What would Dan would say, if he knew what she’d done? She could feel the tears forming across her eyes. Her knuckles turned white as she dug her fingertips into her thighs.

  “You OK?” said Maurice, leaning forwards from the backrow.

  “Go to hell,” said Lucy, laughing coldly, hastily wiping her eye with her sleeve.

  “We’ll help him, don’t worry,” said Karys.

  Lucy dabbed her eyes some more as she fought the waves of guilt and anger crashing over her. She hated what the disease had done to her body; what it had done to Lopez; what it would do to Adrian.

  “Promise me, Karys. Whatever happens, you’ll help me find a cure,” said Lucy.

  “You know pharmacology isn’t my domain, right?” said Karys.

  “I vote you change Majors,” said Maurice.

  Lucy looked at Karys imploringly. She needed to know there was hope.

  “Uh, but that’s not to say I can’t try,” Karys added, sensing Lucy’s despair. “I guess someone ought to, anyhow.”