Decimation: The Girl Who Survived

by Burke, Richard T.

  Perrin remained silent. A moment later the blood drained from his face as realisation dawned. “Hang on. It’s all very well destroying the samples and test results, but anybody else could just analyse the girl again. That means you are going to … Oh God …”

  Rosalind rested a hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “You’re right. The girl is the key to the cure. I’m sorry, Nigel, but she’s got to go. You won’t have to do anything. I’ll deal with it all myself.”

  “Christ, Rosalind. She’s only sixteen years old, the same age as our sons.”

  “I haven’t got a son.”

  “You know what I mean: your adopted son. You’re just going to put her down like an animal?”

  “Look, Nigel. This is the only solution. Bring me your computer and any remaining test samples. Go away for a week with Max. When you come back, everything will have been sorted out. You can forget the whole thing ever happened.”

  “I don’t know, Rosalind.”

  Rosalind’s tone hardened. “Nigel, you are going to do this. Now get me an injection gun loaded with a sedative. After that, bring your machine here. Got that?”

  Perrin nodded silently. His gaze lingered on Rosalind for a few seconds, then he turned away and headed down the corridor.

  “And could you hurry, please?” Rosalind called to his back.

  Chapter 77

  Monday 17th January 2033

  The unfamiliar ring tone made Jason jump. From the displayed number he identified that the call originated from a mobile.

  Jason stabbed a finger at the answer button. “Hello”

  “This is Karen Atkins. To whom am I speaking?”

  “It’s Jason. Jason Baxter.”

  “Hello, Jason. I received a call from an emergency service operator telling me that you’re with Daniel Floyd. Is that true?”

  Movement from the driver’s seat caught Jason’s attention. Floyd was gesticulating at him and mouthing something. “Hang on a sec,” he said into the phone. He placed his finger over the microphone hole and turned to Floyd. “What?”

  “Put it on speaker,” Floyd whispered.

  Jason studied the display and tapped a button that displayed a loudspeaker icon. “Can you hear me?” he asked, holding the mobile in front of him.

  “Yes, fine. So are you with Daniel Floyd?”

  “He’s sitting beside me and can hear everything you’re saying.”

  “Jason, Mr Floyd. The operator told me that you’re on your way to Ilithyia. Why are you going there?”

  “To smash my fist into that evil, murdering, harpy’s face,” Floyd shouted.

  “Who’s face?” Kat asked. “Rosalind Baxter? Has something changed?”

  “She didn’t die after all,” Jason said.

  “I don’t follow. Who didn’t die?”

  “Antimone Lessing,” Jason replied.

  Silence greeted his statement.

  Jason plunged on. “I know it sounds impossible, but she gave birth and lived. My mother was holding her a prisoner at Ilithyia in an underground laboratory. They were studying her, trying to work out how she survived so they could develop a cure. We managed to break her out, but later on she sneaked away from us. We think she’s on her way back there.”

  “Okay, slow down a bit,” Kat said. “You’re telling me that Antimone Lessing survived the birth of her child? So both she and her baby are alive?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s not what the records show. Can anybody else verify that?”

  “Well, other than the people who work at Ilithyia, only us two,” Jason replied.

  “You said she sneaked away. Where were you when this happened?”

  “We were at an abandoned property in Huntingdon. She said she was going to the loo. After a while, we went to check on her, but she’d gone. We think she used the credit on the phone to order a taxi. She’s going to go back to Ilithyia for her son.”

  “That’s not everything,” Floyd said. “Rosalind Baxter murdered my wife. We were able to get a file off her computer. But that’s not the worst of it. Wait until you hear the rest.”

  Floyd explained what they had learned from the encrypted files.

  “Can you send me a copy?” Kat asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Floyd said. “Jason, get the tablet.”

  Jason leant into the back seat and grabbed the computer. He clicked the on button and waited for the machine to boot. “Okay. Give me your email address.”

  Kat reeled off a series of characters.

  Jason read the sequence back to her, and she confirmed it was correct. “I’ll type the password in the body of the email. Sending it now.” He studied the progress bar until it reached one hundred percent. “Right. It’s gone.”

  “I’ll make sure we get a team to Ilithyia immediately,” Kat said. “I want you to wait for them to arrive. Where are you at the moment?”

  Floyd shook his head silently.

  “Can you hear me?” Kat asked.

  Floyd drew a finger across his throat.

  Jason pressed the disconnect button. “Do you think she believed us?”

  “It doesn’t really matter at this stage. The police are going to Ilithyia, and that’s what we wanted. The file should convince them we’re telling the truth.”

  The phone rang again.

  “Don’t answer,” Floyd said.

  The sound of the ring tone drowned out a ping from the tablet computer.

  Had they heard the announcement and checked the screen, they would have seen an automated email stating that the previously transmitted message had been rejected because the attachment was too large.

  Chapter 78

  Monday 17th January 2033

  Rosalind glanced at her watch. Where the hell was Perrin? Her rising irritation dissipated when the door at the end of the corridor swung open. The white-coated doctor appeared, hurrying towards her. “Good. About time.”

  Perrin said nothing as he handed the injection gun over.

  “Now fetch your computer and bring it back here. Then you can leave with your son.”

  Perrin turned and headed in the direction of the lift. Rosalind walked in the opposite direction and waved her security card at the reader before passing through the double doors that led to the reception area. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the girl sitting in the wheelchair and the guard standing a few paces away. Antimone’s appearance wouldn’t win any style awards. The thick woollen socks looked incongruous against the muddy hospital gown and the oversized blue jumper. The slack expression on her face sharpened at Rosalind’s arrival.

  “Where’s my son?” Antimone asked without preamble.

  A slight frown creased Rosalind’s forehead. “We’ve been over this many times before, Antimone. We both know you don’t have a son.”

  Antimone’s mouth gaped in shock. “What? You agreed that I’d be able to see my son if I came back.”

  “It’s very sad,” Rosalind said, turning to the guard. “We’ve been treating her for months. She’s obsessed with having a child even though she knows that if she did, she’d die like all the others. I was worried this might happen.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Antimone shouted. “I gave birth to my son and survived. If you don’t believe me, how do you think this happened?” She raised the heavy jumper, forced a finger through the thin material of the patient gown and ripped a gash above her abdomen. “How do you explain that then?”

  The guard glanced at the livid scar and looked away. By now, several other people, including the receptionist, were watching from a distance.

  “You’re clearly very upset, Antimone,” Rosalind said. “We’ve talked about this self-harm before. We both know that’s one of the things we were treating you for. I see you’ve shaved off all your hair again. I thought we’d managed to beat this delusion, but I can see we were wrong. I’m afraid we’re going to need to continue your treatment.”

  “Bring me my baby,” Antimone screamed.


  “The computer records did say she had a son,” the receptionist said. She had left her desk and was standing two paces away. “Although–”

  “Stay out of this,” Rosalind snarled, turning to the woman in fury. “The records are wrong. Now can’t you see I’m trying to help this poor girl?”

  “I– I’m sorry.”

  “I’m going to have to sedate you,” Rosalind said to Antimone, a thin smile playing on her lips. She held up the injection gun and took a pace forwards.

  “No, no, no,” shrieked Antimone, warding her off with both hands.

  “Restrain her, please,” Rosalind said addressing, the guard.

  “Um … What do you–?”

  “For Christ’s sake, hold her down so I can give her a shot of sedative.”

  Antimone attempted to bat the man away. “Keep away from me, you bastard. She’s got my son and …”

  Rosalind darted forwards, held the nozzle against Antimone’s neck and squeezed the trigger. A short hiss signalled that the device had fired. She sprang back out of range of Antimone’s thrashing limbs.

  “I want my baby,” Antimone sobbed. Her arms slumped at her sides, and her head tilted backwards. “I want my …” Her voice tailed off into a whimper.

  Rosalind stepped forwards and inspected Antimone’s face. She raised an eyelid then turned back to the small group of onlookers. “The show’s over,” she said. “I’m sorry you all had to witness that. She’s a seriously disturbed young lady.” She glared at the remaining two people who continued to stare at the unconscious girl. Eventually, they too moved away.

  “Let’s get her to a room,” she said, turning to the guard. “Follow me.”

  She strode across the tiled floor towards the security doors.

  Chapter 79

  Monday 17th January 2033

  “So what’s the plan?” Jason asked as the vehicle drew to a halt at the turning circle by the entrance to Ilithyia Biotechnology.

  “We have to find out whether Antimone came here,” Floyd replied, opening the car door. “If she did, we need to make sure that she and her son – your son – are safe. The police will arrive at any second. After what that murdering harpy’s done, I don’t trust her further than I can chuck her.”

  “You’re right,” Jason said, shoving his door open. “We can’t afford to wait for them.”

  Side by side, they strode in the direction of the brightly illuminated steel and glass building. Ten paces short of the entrance, a security guard emerged through the revolving door.

  “Hey, is that your car?” the man said. “You can’t leave it there.”

  “Piss off,” Floyd growled, barging past him.

  “It’ll get towed,” the man called to his back, but the pair were already entering the circular glass entryway. The man spoke urgently into his walkie-talkie then followed Jason and Floyd inside.

  Jason inhaled the familiar faint medical aroma, his eyes taking in the polished tile floor and the curving reception desk. It was almost as if he was seeing the interior of the building for the first time, so much had changed over the past few days. He hurried to keep up with Floyd who was marching towards the alarmed-looking receptionist. The woman tracked the bearded man as he approached and, despite being separated by the chrome and plastic surface, she took an inadvertent step backwards.

  “Um … can I–?”

  “Did a girl in a wheelchair come in here a few minutes ago?” Floyd asked. “Sixteen years old and wearing a blue jumper.”

  The look of surprise was all the answer he required.

  “How long ago?” he asked.

  “Um, about ten minutes,” the woman replied.

  “Where did she go?”

  “I’m not sure I’m allowed–”

  “Get Rosalind Baxter here now,” Floyd said.

  The receptionist’s frightened gaze flicked to the security guard who had drawn his black baton. “Who shall I say is asking for her?”

  “You can tell her that Daniel Floyd and her adopted son are here.”

  “You’re going to have to leave or I’m going to call the police,” said the guard from behind Floyd, clasping the black cylinder with his left hand. Droplets of sweat beaded his forehead.

  Floyd whirled to face him. “The police? Good, but they’re already on their way.”

  “Mr Floyd, um … Daniel. Look,” Jason said. Four more guards were running towards them, the double doors swinging in their wake. Each of them held a baton and appeared ready to wield it if necessary.

  “These two are leaving,” said the first security guard as the others drew alongside him.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I see Baxter,” Floyd growled.

  “Throw them out,” the man said, grabbing Floyd by the arm.

  “Get off me,” Floyd yelled shaking the man’s grip loose. The other men surged forwards. A baton swished through the air, striking Floyd on the shoulder. He stumbled under the blow. Several hands grabbed his arms and despite his frantic struggles to break free, dragged him towards the revolving door. Realising that Jason proved less of a threat, a solitary guard grasped his upper arm and propelled him in the same direction.

  Halfway to the exit, a loud female voice rang out. “Stop!”

  All eyes turned to Rosalind Baxter who was standing by the security doors. “I will not tolerate this sort of behaviour in my facility. That man’s a convicted murderer. We’re going to restrain them until the police arrive. Bring them over here.”

  The intensity of Floyd’s struggle increased. “You fricking bitch,” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “You’re the murderer.” Despite the overwhelming odds, he managed to free an arm and swung it, connecting with a guard’s ear. The man staggered backwards, but a flurry of blows rained down on Floyd from the man’s colleagues.

  The fight didn’t last long. A blow to the right temple dropped Floyd to his knees. Blood immediately welled up from the wound, splattering the floor around the struggling men. Several more strokes landed on his back and shoulders. Seconds later, Floyd slumped to the ground barely conscious.

  Two of the guards grabbed an arm each and hauled Floyd to his feet. Jason found himself similarly restrained. It had all happened so quickly that it was over before he could decide how to react.

  Rosalind walked forwards to meet the approaching group. She beckoned the spare guard towards her and whispered something to him. The man nodded then hurried away to the revolving door.

  She moved to stand in front of Jason. Fury blazed in her eyes. “You betrayed my trust. I raised you as my son, and you did this to me.”

  Jason met her stare. “I know everything. You murdered my mother and you–”

  The slap snapped his head to the side. The backhanded blow that followed it caught him equally by surprise. Jason tasted blood in his mouth.

  “I want these two restrained and gagged. This boy needs to learn some respect. Follow me.”

  Chapter 80

  Monday 17th January 2033

  “Come on, Max,” Nigel Perrin said. “We need to hurry.”

  “You keep me waiting about for more than an hour, and now, all of a sudden, we need to hurry,” Max said petulantly. “Why the rush? I thought we were just going away for a few days.”

  “It’s complicated,” the boy’s father replied as he exchanged the warm foyer for the frigid winter night.

  The wheels of the small suitcase rumbled over the concrete paving slabs.

  “Where are we going anyway?” Max asked, hurrying to keep up with his father. He still sported a black eye resulting from Jason’s attack.

  “I thought we might go to the coast,” Perrin said, angling his head back to address his son.

  “Why are we going during term time, though?”

  “What do you mean? You’ve been off school for the last few days anyway, recovering. We don’t spend enough time together. Work has been pretty intense recently. Now that there’s a lull, I thought it would be a good time to get a
way.”

  The boy shrugged. “Whatever you say. You’re the one who keeps telling me I need to take school more seriously.”

  The sound of sirens pierced the background hiss of traffic that drifted from the main road. Strobing blue lights cast a ghostly glow against the orange of the streetlamps.

  “Shit,” Perrin said, breaking into a run. The wail of the sirens grew louder.

  “What’s going on, Dad?” Max asked in consternation.

  “That bloody woman’s gone too far this time. She’s out of control, and I’m not going to take a fall for her.”

  The wheels of the suitcase hit a crack between two paving stones and flipped it onto its back. Max stopped to right it. When he turned back, the first of three police cars blocked the way forwards, its bumper nudging up to the rear of the ancient silver vehicle with the broken passenger-side window. The siren tones from the different vehicles blended into a discordant wail until one by one they fell silent. At the same time, the intense blue flashing lights also turned off, leaving an imprint on Max’s retina.

  A mask of despair occupied Nigel Perrin’s face. “No,” he moaned. He hesitated for a moment then came to a decision. “Quick, follow me.”

  “You’re not in trouble with the police, are you Dad? I thought we were–”

  “Just do as I say for once.”

  Max shook his head and grabbed the handle of the small suitcase. His father was running faster than he had ever seen him do before.

  Perrin glanced behind. The gap between them had extended to ten metres. “For Christ’s sake, leave that behind.”

  “But it’s got all–”

  “Just leave it!”

  Max turned back to where a large group of policemen gathered beside the now silent police cars. He released the suitcase handle and broke into a sprint in the opposite direction. Despite the head start, he arrived at the revolving door at the entrance to the building a couple of paces ahead of his father. Both men barrelled into the same compartment. Max shoved against the glass. Sensing the pressure being applied against it, the mechanism braked and halted.