by L. H. Tide
***
Blame
Johnny and Bo have to confront the Governor of the Community, while Harry becomes an interesting subject of study for "Doctor Mengele".
“We can’t continue like this!” said Joshua Adams, banging his fist on the table. He had taken the risk to stain with coffee his impeccable white suit, the concussion having almost knocked down the cup.
Bo, the blond man who had driven the van, and Johnny Jackson were standing in front of the huge desk of the old Caucasian man dressed in white, the two young men rather sheepish.
“You wasted God loads of precious ammunition, and you did all of that to save only a kid!”
Bo’s face grew red with anger and he answered, “Everyone deserves to be saved, that’s what you said in your last speech before the elections, do you remember?”
The old man glared at him and controlled himself, before saying, quieter, and watching him with an indulgent gaze, “Of course… You’re right, I remember, you know… but what I see is that our ammunition diminishes each day, and the future isn’t so far when we won’t be able to push back the zombies. They come toward the Community and its surroundings, more and more numerous, like bees attracted by flowers!”
“But we were only a small group, and we’ve used our munitions sparingly!” Bo shouted painfully, the words of the old man already making him feel depressed.
“Not enough,” the technocrat answered, resuming. “One day, when our guns are useless, no one will be able to go outside without being torn to pieces by the crowds of living dead, accumulating around us… and even the Community, with its closed system recycling all its resources. It won’t be able to survive indefinitely, without new food, water, equipment entering it, from time to time.”
He stopped speaking, and he saw with satisfaction that the two young men were impatient to hear what he wanted to tell them. He continued, “We will then all be trapped here, with the choice between dying slowly of thirst and famine, or dying quickly outside, at the hands of hordes of undead!”
“That’s not what you said to your future citizens,” Johnny said to him, watching him with a hard look. “There’s really no hope?” asked Bo, clearly skeptical.
Adams sighed and, smiling wryly at him, said, more quietly, “Of course, things aren’t so nightmarish for the moment. The people who come from outside to find shelter here, often bring some food, guns and ammunition, things which replenish our reserves a bit, but the accounts show that, in the long run, we lose more than we gain.” He sighed again after looking at the sadness of his young interlocutors, and continued, “Let’s say that my great financial background makes me view things in a pessimistic way,” and he added, “The arrival of this mysterious little red-haired girl means also that our genetic pool is expanded, and that consanguinity inside the Community will perhaps be avoided.”
The two men in front of him scowled at him and then looked at each other.
Johnny Jackson leaned forward and slapped his open hands on the table of the administrator, who shivered because of the surprise. Looking him straight in the eye, the young black man shouted: “Let’s speak about something else... why is my father in prison?”
“He’s not in prison,” the old man said, showing him his open hands as if it could calm him, “he only remains under observation.”
“He’s behind bars, he’s become a guinea pig for your scientists, your Doctors Mengele that you call physicians!”
“You know what will happen to him, if the virus injected in his organism by the bite finishes its work!” Adams retorted, adding, “His only chance is to be cured by the modified virus developed by Professor Harding. If the cure doesn’t work…”
Johnny didn’t want to hear the end, controlling with difficulty his impulse to hit the white ass. He exited the office, followed by Bo. The young blond man having passed by him, Johnny stopped and, turning around, looked at the old man. He was seemingly sad and with his lips closed, was observing him. Their eyes met briefly, and then the young man violently shut the door behind him.
“Do you feel better?”
The question made the big black man turn around and face Professor Harding, who was watching him through the bars of the cell, looking at him with metal-rimmed spectacles. Computers and various medical equipment surrounded the chestnut-haired man, who was in his forties.
Harry Jackson walked slowly, staggering, helped by a crutch, toward the bars. Stopping in front of them, looking tough, he observed the scientist with his eyes, which had begun to turn red, because of venules which had burst.
“The thing you gave me to swallow made me vomit three times.”
“Nausea, three times,” the man with a white jacket wrote on his iPad, seeming unfazed. “We’ll adjust the treatment, it may reduce these bad side-effects. Things will become better.”
Shouting came from outside, and the black colossus looked through the barred window of the cell at a hangar, outside, and he said, “That’s what you told all those poor souls, down there?”
During a few seconds, the scientist seemed to lose his composure. He lowered the pad and said, “One day, I’m sure they’ll all be cured…” Jackson watched him with disdain.
“Oh, yes, one day,” Harry interrupted him, “until then, they will continue to yell down there, looking for food, ready to eat their weakest members.”
Anger appeared on the face of Harding, defending himself while saying, “I’m not the Administrator, food is becoming scarce, and we can’t strip the people of the Community of…”
Harry threw his head through the bars while opening his mouth, simulating an attempt to bite the scientist, who retreated with fear, losing his iPad on the white floor tiles. The electronic device hit the surface hard, emitting a sound of broken glass.
Harry Jackson laughed loudly, both hands holding the bars, satisfied with his joke. He looked down at the white man, who knelt on the floor and picked up the tablet. He returned it, and saw the unit was off, its glass surface showing an ugly crack. Still kneeling, he looked up at Jackson and scowled at him, shouting, “Shit, it was one of our last iPads!”
The black colossus shrugged his shoulders, and the scientist, standing up with hatred on his face, continued, “If you don’t want us to try to cure you, it’s your own business.”
The scientist turned around and went out of the room, switching off the neon.
Jackson, who had stopped laughing and smiling, found himself in a shadowy gloom, the only light dim, coming through his small barred window. Gloomily, he walked toward it, and looked again, through the bars, at the dull metallic hangar. New howls and grunting noises, fighting one another for poor remnants of spoiled meat.
He sighed… My future?
***
Visit
In this episode, Red discovers, thanks to Mei, the main vertical farming building of the Community, and its kind Manager.
She also has to go through a medical examination made by Professor Theodore Harding, aka "Doctor Mengele".
A man that Red can't in any way find as nice as the Manager of the agro-building.
“Come on. Don’t be afraid.”
These few words had been kindly said by Mei, who was smiling at her in the wonderful way Red was getting used to. But this didn’t reassure the little girl. She looked at the young woman in T-shirt and trousers, who was waiting patiently for her to join her outside. Red hesitated a few seconds more, because for years “Going outside” meant running at full speed out of a temporary haven, knowing that death may be waiting around a corner, its rotten teeth ready to devour her alive, while hacking her to pieces…
The young woman, insisting, offered her hand.
Red sighed and, finally, grabbed it, getting gently, but firmly, pulled out of the flat where she had slept. They began to walk in the street. The child looked everywhere around them. Nothing to be afraid of. Relaxed, feeling more confident, Red followed Mei along a pathway.
