by Ryan Casey
“He’s awake, Doctor,” Doctor Harvey said, looking primarily at Doctor Ermenstein but also glancing at Mr. Belmont from time to time. His lips were shaking, and he reeked of sweat.
“What do you mean he’s awake?” Mr. Belmont asked.
“Adam. He—he just sprang to life and he… he took a bite out of me. He’s awake.”
18.
Jonny lay under his quilt covers. He clenched his eyes shut. He could hear voices downstairs. Plates clinking against one another. Conversation. Laughter. His mum and dad getting on just like they used to, eating tea, drinking wine, doing normal things.
He was shaking even though he wasn’t cold. The images of the night before and his discovery this morning flicked through his mind, over and over again.
Rebecca’s body. Chunks of flesh missing from her neck. The taste of blood on his teeth.
And the hunger. The way it just stopped. The way it was bubbling again. Growing. Slowly but surely.
He thought about her body sinking into the pond. He’d done his best to clear his tracks, but he’d have to go back at some stage. He’d somehow kept his cool when he’d returned Anita’s call—pretended he’d had a dropped signal. But the lie he’d told. It was the best lie he could manage, but it wouldn’t stand. It couldn’t.
He’d told her he’d taken her to her pregnancy scan, and that it’d gone okay. He’d told her he hadn’t slept with her—what morally correct HIV-infected person would? When Anita asked to speak to Rebecca, he told her she was taking a shower, or sleeping. Oh—her phone had broken too, apparently. All diversionary tactics. Diversionary tactics that might work for another day or two, or maybe just a few more hours, before Anita really started to suspect things and called the police.
But what was he to do? He wasn’t a killer. It wasn’t him who had killed Rebecca. He’d have no reason to do that. No—it was this thing inside him. This thing, bubbling away. This thing, demanding to be fed again.
He opened his eyes. His room was dark and gloomy again. The dust that he’d cleaned up yesterday seemed to have resettled already. It was clammy and humid from the sticky heat emitting from his body.
He knew what he had to do. While he still had the time, he had to get out of here. Catch the 22 bus to the station, then get a train down to London or somewhere. Then cross over to France. Stay in hostels—remote hostels. Disappear completely before they linked him to Rebecca.
All while keeping the hunger at bay.
He lifted himself from his bed, his head spinning. He knew he’d dropped himself in it by saying Rebecca was with him. Fucking stupid idea, but he’d panicked at the time and it seemed like the best way to keep Anita off his case for a short while. In hindsight, he should’ve just said he hadn’t seen her since last night. That he’d gone home on his own and didn’t know a thing about her whereabouts. Then again, they’d be more likely to go searching for her then, especially with her promised pregnancy scan with Anita. There was no winning here, only the least terrifying option.
Jonny pulled a small green rucksack from underneath his bed and started filling it with underwear and t-shirts, most of which were already creased and dirty. He could buy new ones along the way. He had a bit of cash left over in his wallet from last night for bus and train tickets—about fifty quid—so he could get by on that before withdrawing all the money he had and making sure he couldn’t be traced again. There was no long-term planning here. Only the immediate future.
He finished packing the green rucksack and zipped it up. He reached into his back pocket to check for his wallet.
Nothing there.
His body froze. He rushed into the bathroom and checked the pockets of the soiled trousers he’d worn last night. Nothing there either.
Fuck. He hadn’t left it at Anita’s, had he?
No. It was definitely in his pocket when he woke up earlier. He remembered feeling it digging into his back. Which meant…
Shit. Shit shit shit.
He rushed back to his bedroom and grabbed the rucksack. His breathing was stunted and panicked. How fucking stupid was he? He must’ve frozen when he’d seen Rebecca’s body, or it must’ve caught against his belt when he’d wrapped it around the rocks, or maybe it’d never even been in his pocket at all and he’d just been lying on it. He couldn’t leave it lying around there. Sure—they’d link him to Rebecca’s body eventually, but a wallet and a card would just speed the process, and that was time he didn’t have. Besides, it had his card in there, as well as the money he’d been planning to buy his tickets with. And fuck—his passport. He needed to get to it. There were no two ways about it.
He pulled the green rucksack over his shoulder and approached the door. He looked back at his room. Blinds closed, the white bedsheets neat and tidy and settled, as if nobody had ever lived in it. He wished he’d been able to leave something for his parents. A note explaining it wasn’t their fault, and that he was just going away to protect himself. But he knew he couldn’t. That would just draw more suspicion towards him. He had to disappear. Completely.
He closed the door to his bedroom and took a deep breath. He could hear them in the kitchen still. His mum would probably only check on him tomorrow afternoon when she got in from work, so he’d hopefully be out of the country by then. Nobody would know a thing.
As he descended the stairs, his stomach tightening as he got closer and closer to the door, he felt awful for what he was doing. His mum—she was so good to him. She’d spend the rest of her days worrying. God, he couldn’t believe he was actually about to do this. They’d be convinced it was suicide. They’d add up the facts. The HIV progression. The wild last day of eating, running and partying. Even without the inevitable eventual news of… of what he’d done to Rebecca, all signs would point towards suicide. Perhaps it would be better that way. Perhaps it would give him the closure he needed for this to work.
He got closer to the front door. The voices behind him, behind the kitchen door, were so close and yet so far away. They were already a part of his past; he accepted that now. He had to. He used to wonder before all this how he’d cope if he accidentally killed someone, or did something terrible. He thought he’d crack with the guilt completely. But the truth was, the mind found a way to rationalise a situation. And maybe the rationalisation would fall short, but it was worth a try. He’d dug himself this much of a hole, now he either went through with it or gave up completely.
And he wasn’t prepared to be arrested just yet.
He opened the front door to his house as quietly as he possibly could, letting the cool air of the dark suburban street engulf him. He took a final deep breath of the homely scents of his house. Listened to their voices. His mum’s bouncy, uplifting voice. His dad’s confident, deep tones. He pictured them smiling. They needed this moment. They needed to savour it. Make it last as long as possible.
Then, he closed the door. Closed the door to his mum, his dad, his home, his world. He closed the door, let the cool air surround him, and he walked.
First, he’d find his wallet.
Then, he’d think of a way to divert Anita; to buy more time.
Then, he’d disappear completely.
Mr. Belmont had never before witnessed the domino effect at full pace. But right now, as he stared through the window into Adam Chester’s room, he imagined this was as close as he was going to get.
Adam was more than just awake. His eyes were open, the yellowing whites bulging from his head. He pulled his body up as much as he could, stretching the belts around his arms. The wound on his neck was oozing blood onto the pillow beside him, like a picked scab, awoken and disturbed. He ground his blood-drenched teeth together, struggling and grunting.
“We need to give him a sedative,” Doctor Ermenstein said. He was standing beside Doctor Harvey to Mr. Belmont’s left. Doctor Harvey was gripping his wrist, visible teethmarks penetrating his skin, blood dripping to the floor as Doctor Ermenstein attempted to wrap a bandage around it. “We need something to calm
him down.”
Mr. Belmont stared at Adam. Even though he was looking through reflective glass, he got the feeling that Adam was looking right back at him, but perhaps that was just superstition. A by-product of a business type being in a lair of lab types. He needed to get out of here and call Miss Appleton. The formula—Turnstone. She could shed some light on how it really worked. She could help them.
Because in all the panic, and all the furore, Mr. Belmont couldn’t shake the excitement inside him. Sure, Doctor Harvey had been bitten. Sure, the Quarantine Zone was on the verge of… well, quarantine. But Adam… He’d been dead. His pulse had stopped.
And now he was alive.
Angry, but alive.
Turnstone was more than Mr. Belmont had ever imagined. And he’d imagined it was a pretty big deal in the first place.
“Doctor Harvey—you go collect some sedative from the lab at the end of the corridor. You have my permission to use it. Just a small dose, though. We don’t want anything interfering with Turnstone.”
“Fuck Turnstone,” Doctor Ermenstein said. “Can’t you see what’s going on here? We’re in the shit. This drug, it’s good. But we’ve got a fucking crisis here.”
Mr. Belmont squared up to Doctor Ermenstein. He peered into his eyes. He wanted to tell him everything he was thinking: about bringing Sarah Appleton in, and about how much of a big deal this actually was. After all, Adam was alive. Adam, who had been savaged, was alive. He shouldn’t be, but he was. That was a big deal. A very big deal.
“You’re right,” Mr. Belmont said. He nodded his head in approval. “Please check on Mrs. Carter for me, would you? I’d hate for anything bad to happen.”
Doctor Ermenstein scanned Mr. Belmont’s face with his inquisitive eyes. Then, he turned around and he walked.
Mr. Belmont breathed in deeply. This was his chance.
He turned around and walked past Adam’s quarantine room to the spare room where he’d sent Doctor Harvey to collect some sedative. He stood outside the door and stared in as the bleeding doctor rustled through the shelves with his shaky hands, dropping syringes all over the place.
He looked up and saw Mr. Belmont at the heavy metallic door, and for a brief moment, just after his eyes were filled with confusion, he gave off a look of understanding.
“I’m sorry I have to do this,” Mr. Belmont said, as he slammed the heavy door shut and locked it from the outside.
He walked away from the door, back down the corridor, past Adam’s room and towards Mrs. Carter’s, where he’d sent Doctor Ermenstein. It wasn’t ideal having him go in there—he wasn’t totally sure he could trust him—but it was as good as he was going to get. He had to keep Doctor Ermenstein locked in and stop him from doing anything. The “Demon Doctor’s” morals were getting the better of him. Right now, they had three people with Turnstone running through their system, and Mr. Belmont was going to bring Miss Appleton here as soon as possible and they were going to work something out, together. Find a way for this to work.
A way to save the world and go down in history.
When he reached Mrs. Carter’s door, Doctor Ermenstein was already facing him. His jaw was shaking. His eyes had narrowed. He already understood. It was written all over his face.
“It won’t be for long, Doctor,” Mr. Belmont said.
Doctor Ermenstein didn’t even attempt to make a break for the door as Mr. Belmont slammed it shut, leaving him inside with Mrs. Carter, her bedside curtain still open.
Mr. Belmont turned away and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialled the number of the TCorps operator, the sound of Doctor Harvey banging on the metal door down the corridor ringing in his ears.
“Operator, how may I help?”
“It’s Mr. Belmont. I was wondering if you could give me a mobile number for one of our employees.”
“Mr. Belmont, sir! I’d be happy to help. Could you give me a first name, and—”
“Sarah Appleton. We suspended her a couple of days ago. I need to speak to her immediately.”
The operator hesitated. “Okay, sir. I have to ask—for company, erm, procedure—for the nature of the call, with it being personal—”
“It’s about a job opportunity. An opening, of sorts. A very urgent one. Put me through to her. Now.”
As the operator put Mr. Belmont through to Miss Appleton’s direct line, Doctor Harvey’s bangs against the metal door grew louder and louder and louder.
19.
Jonny walked down the dark street. He clutched his green rucksack over his shoulder. Every time a car shot past, he looked up at the headlights to check it wasn’t the police to check that he hadn’t just gone and given himself right away. But it never was. The cars just drove on past. He was safe still.
For now.
Instead of catching a bus, he walked all the way out of his housing estate in Fulwood, right down the A6 that led to town. The woods where It happened—where She was—were on the left just before the high-rise student accommodation blocks. That one big secret, lying at the bottom of a murky pond on the outskirts of the city centre. He wondered how many other secrets were out there, hidden in plain sight. He wondered how long it took for those to be uncovered, too.
He picked up the pace when he saw the trees emerging on his left. He kept his head down. He just had to get this done with. Get there, find the wallet, and get away. That was assuming his wallet even was there. No—it had to be. If it wasn’t, then… Fuck. Fate, or whatever.
A car slowed down beside him. He heard the brakes squeak. Fuck. He looked up—a van. A police van? No. Just a white van. A few children in the back looking out at him, one of them—a little blonde kid—sticking his tongue out at him. Just a minibus, that’s all it was. They were just going on some sort of trip, and they were stuck at the lights.
He carried on walking. He’d brought along a torch, too, so he could see where he was looking. Even though it was getting lighter in February, he still didn’t fancy rooting around those woods in the dark.
Plus, he needed to know when to run. If it came to that.
There was something else on his mind too. The hunger. It was back. It gnawed at his stomach, not as intense as yesterday, but still pretty intense. In truth, he hadn’t eaten today. It made sense that he would be hungry.
But this wasn’t just hunger. It was… well. Hunger.
He looked around as he reached the edge of the woods. The lights were on green, so the steady flow of traffic moved through them. He looked up ahead at the high-rise student flats where Anita lived. Lights on on most floors. A normal night. A very normal night. Ideal.
Jonny descended the hill into the woodland area. When he was sure he’d walked a good twenty or thirty feet, he took out his torch and shone it ahead. All the trees looked the same in here. Sinister. Watching. In the distance, he could see the stagnant twinkle of the pond. His stomach tensed as he saw it. He didn’t want to have to make a visit there any time soon. He just had to hope he could find the tree where It had happened, find his wallet somewhere nearby, then get the fuck away for good.
Squinting into the distance and shining his torch all around, Jonny searched and searched for the tree. It shouldn’t be that hard to find, for fuck’s sakes. It had a patch of blood on it after all. Besides, it wasn’t like the memory was a throwaway one. He remembered every heavy step out of this woods he’d taken before. He remembered it so clearly.
He searched for what felt like hours but was really only minutes. Traffic continued to speed by. Horns pipped. The breeze brushed against the trees. Where was it? It had to be around here somewhere. He wanted to be able to check the tree before he even thought about checking Rebecca’s body for the wallet. It didn’t even make sense that the wallet would be in her possession, but he was going to have to have a look if he couldn’t find it.
As he took a few steps in the direction of the pond, his heart thumping, he felt something beneath his feet.
He looked down, and a huge weight rose from his
shoulders.
The black leather wallet was lying on its side. His black leather wallet. Gucci imitation that his dad had picked him up on a trip to Europe. He reached down for it and checked its contents, hoping nothing had gone missing.
Inside, there were three twenty-pound notes, one ten-pound note, a fiver, some loose change, his passport, his driving license, and his bank card. More money than he’d remembered. Perfect.
He stuffed the wallet into his green rucksack and put it back over his shoulder. Money, passport, personal identification. He had everything he needed to make his escape. He couldn’t afford to look back anymore, as painful as it was to think about what he’d done—what the hunger had made him do.
The hunger that churned up inside him.
The metallic taste in his mouth.
Fuck. No. Stay in control. Get away from everyone and keep yourself cool.
He took one final look at the tree, which was partly stained with a browny-red blood patch. He’d done a good job of covering it up, actually. He must’ve looked at this tree about ten times when he’d been trying to find it. Hopefully that boded negatively for anyone trying to find him.
He turned around and headed up the hill. Now to the train station, then to wherever his wallet took him. He’d turned his phone off and destroyed the SIM card. He could pick up another cheap one while he was away.
Not that he needed it.
As he shone the light up the hill, he heard something behind him.
A splashing.
He froze. It couldn’t have been a splashing. Or if it was, it was just an animal, or something. A bird, or a frog. Keep on moving. Stop being paranoid.
He took another step, and he heard it again. A thrashing, now. Thrashing against the water.
He turned around and shone the torch in the direction of the pond. His hand shook. It didn’t make sense. Rebecca, she couldn’t be, could she? No. Don’t be stupid.
But somebody else. What if somebody else was down there?
