Edge of Survival Box Set 1

by William Oday

  It wasn’t Iridia’s friend he’d come to see. He couldn’t care less about the girl. No, it was the esteemed Senator Rawlings that piqued his interest. Anton had inoculated him with a variant of MT-1 that was designed to guarantee the patient changed into a delta. The original had a different goal and so a different, but related, formulation.

  Another swipe of the card and he was in a corridor lined with locked doors. Each door featured a large, thick glass window which made for easy viewing within the cell. He strolled down the line and stopped at the proper cell.

  There on the other side of the glass was the elderly senator. The results appeared promising.

  68

  Anton hadn’t seen him since yesterday evening. The senator had been fully engulfed in the fever at the time. The variant had proven to be a slower acting agent and he was anxious to get a definitive result either way. The critical juncture had to have passed. A continuing decline into a terminal hemorrhagic fever or a quick recovery even as the prefrontal cortex burned itself out.

  The infection was too far gone for the cure to arrest its progression, assuming it even worked the same on this mutated form of MT-1. But that was also assuming Anton chose to give it to the senator in the first place, which he had no intention of doing.

  Yes, the man had been instrumental in carrying out Anton’s destiny. And what? Did that create some kind of reciprocal obligation?

  No. It didn’t. Every tool had a shelf life, a period of time after which it was discarded because it was no longer useful.

  Senator Rawlings was one such tool.

  The senator was to be commended for the fact that, even at the end of his utility, he was able to offer one last service to Anton, to mankind. The development of the MT-1 variant was critical to ensuring a stable work force moving into the future. The future of intellectual progress would undoubtedly require a servile work force to provide for its basic needs like food production and other manual labor.

  And the man that could reliably provide such labor would be well-positioned in the new society. Anton would accept the responsibility with his usual humility and expectation.

  He knew some would ignorantly call it slavery. But they would be wrong. Anton himself agreed that historical slavery was a mistake. To subjugate one intellect to the whims of an equal intellect was morally reprehensible. It was against nature.

  But a delta was not of an equal intellect. A delta lacked the very thing that made us human: the higher functioning brain.

  People owned apes and no reasonable person protested that it was slavery. The deltas, in general, were closer to apes than humans. There hadn’t been sufficient time to perform a longitudinal study to determine exactly how their cognitive functioning compared, but the observations he had made indicated a close pairing. Taking into account the natural variability of the virus’ efficacy, it was reasonable to conclude that some deltas were likely less capable than apes on the cognitive scale.

  Anton stared into the brightly lit room. Curiosity at the senator’s fate had his fingertips trembling on the glass.

  The senator lay curled up in a corner next to a bare metal bunk. His thin arms covered his face. A white medical gown streaked with dried feces and blood draped over his wrinkled, frail body. The wheelchair used to cart him downstairs sat next to the bunk.

  Anton tapped the glass.

  No response.

  Anton frowned.

  Had he expired? Perhaps the fever had taken him. The weak sometimes expired before the change could take place. The stress on the system could simply be too much. And the senator was nowhere near in his prime.

  Anton banged on the glass and the body didn’t move. He removed his keycard and swiped it over the reader next to the door. A red light switched to green and the magnetic lock disengaged. He pushed the door open and quietly stepped inside.

  The body flinched and Anton froze. Not because he was scared, but because he’d thought the senator had passed, which would’ve been a terrible indicator for the potential of the variant serum.

  The old man peeked out from beneath a filthy sleeve.

  Anton stepped closer while still being certain to remain out of reach.

  The elderly man growled. An inhuman voice echoed in his throat.

  Pride warmed Anton’s chest. The variant had worked! It would take many more tests to validate its efficacy, but this result was encouraging.

  “Congratulations, Senator Rawlings. You’ve bolstered my confidence in the variant. While I commend you for your service, I must also inform you that your utility is now at an end.”

  The delta didn’t respond. Not that Anton expected it to. Complex verbal language was no longer within the scope of its abilities.

  “Try not to worry, you will perish soon enough.”

  To Anton’s surprise, the words sounded almost regretful. With agitation, he examined the underlying emotion. Was it attachment? Was he breaking faith with the very rule he’d just reminded Iridia of?

  No.

  No, he wasn’t.

  He regarded the old man with the same admiration a carpenter did a trusted hammer. And so, in like manner, there was some regret in discarding it when the time came to replace it.

  Anton squatted down so he could look one last time into the senator’s clouded eyes.

  The old man uncurled and lunged at Anton.

  In fear, Anton lashed out and happened to catch his attacker on the chin. The delta’s head snapped to the side and it collapsed into a heap of withered flesh.

  Anton stumbled back in shock and tripped on the wheelchair. He fell into the wall and cracked his head into the concrete. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

  The changed man looked up at Anton. Blood gushed down his chin from the ragged wound created by his teeth slicing through his lower lip. The length of the lip dangled by a remaining bridge of skin.

  “You idiot!” Anton screamed as he kicked the cowering delta in the side.

  While the kick felt good, the insult felt better. Much like the average person might use a more mundane expletive like asshole. Only ‘idiot’ was far more derogatory an insult.

  He never understood why a person might opt for something so perfunctory as asshole. The asshole was simply an alternative combination of letters that meant the same thing as anus. And the anus was a useful, if under-appreciated, part of the human body. Yes, there were possible allusions to filth and disease, but was there disgrace in effectively doing a dirty job?

  No.

  Because it was a job.

  A function.

  An idiot was infinitely worse. An idiot was a machine with apparently working parts but whose whole did not exceed the sum of its parts. In fact, it was quite the opposite. An idiot equaled less than the sum of its parts. And worse yet, it implied a squandering of the human potential.

  And this delta who had once been Senator Charles Rawlings was truly an idiot. He had underestimated Anton from the start. His dreams had been small. His vision myopic.

  And now his brain had devolved to a state that more accurately reflected his true character.

  If Anton’s work created the conditions in which a certain measure of poetic justice could be carried out, he was not averse to its appreciation.

  69

  BETH forced back the ocean of tears threatening to pour out of her eyes. Now, more than ever, she needed to keep it together. A broken, insane mind wasn’t going to be much help to Theresa. And her daughter needed her.

  Needed her to do what?

  She didn’t know how to save Theresa. She was a veterinarian, not a scientist at a pharmaceutical company. She had no idea how to create or manufacture an antiviral drug that might save Theresa’s life. And even if she did, even if all of that was true, none of it would matter because there wasn’t enough time.

  Theresa needed immediate treatment.

  The fever had already been building and the massive exertion of fleeing the deltas seemed to have accelerated her deterioration. And tha
t wasn’t the worst of it.

  The worst of it was that Beth couldn’t be with her.

  If indeed this was an illness that couldn’t be stopped, then Theresa deserved as much comfort as she could have. It tore Beth’s heart out to think it, but if her baby was going to pass, she wanted to hold her head and kiss her forehead as she went.

  But she couldn’t be with her because she was locked up like a criminal by Iridia’s insane father.

  A knot in Beth’s throat choked the air from her lungs. She bit down on her tongue in the hopes that the pain might keep her mind from coming undone. The bright sting and salty taste drew just enough of her attention to keep her from completely melting down.

  She paced across the office interior toward the locked door. The locked door with the trained-to-kill soldier guy outside. She needed to break the door down and go find her daughter. Anton had ordered her to be taken to the lab.

  She pounded on the door, not expecting any more reaction than the nothing she’d encountered already.

  No response.

  She tried the handle and it was still locked.

  Beth needed one thing right now. She needed Mason. Always, but now more than ever. She needed the man she’d grown to trust implicitly over the years. This was his area of expertise. Beth was a healer at heart. She could be hard when the occasion required it, but she had no training in the tactics of aggression.

  A whirlwind of emotion threatened to sweep her away. A wild voice begged her to surrender to the agony, to the madness where reason limped to die. Losing her husband. Losing her daughter. The voice demanded she give in.

  And so much of her wanted to.

  But a tiny voice somewhere in the chaos told her to be strong. To fight for her family. To rise above and act.

  She reached for the voice, clung to it, coddled it so that it wouldn’t be snuffed out by the riotous winds enveloping it.

  Yes. She had to act.

  But how?

  Someone spoke.

  Beth looked up and didn’t recognize the face for an instant. So deep was the battle for her sanity that the words were echoes without a source. Sounds she noticed in passing and couldn’t catch before they faded away.

  “Are you okay?”

  Elio. That’s who this was.

  He squeezed her shoulder and forced a smile.

  Beth’s conscious thought resurfaced gasping for air like a diver testing, and perhaps sinking just beyond, the limits. “I’m okay.”

  “How did you think Theresa was doing?”

  Beth bit her tongue again to keep her mind reined in. She coughed to get the air moving in her throat.

  “She’s not well.”

  Elio pivoted on his heel and marched over to the closed door. He banged a fist on it. “Hey! Open the door! Open it!”

  Again, no response.

  “Elio, come sit with me,” Maria said. She sat in a cushioned chair holding Noor in her arms. The poor girl hadn’t said a word since her dad got left behind. She didn’t speak or cry or do anything more than allow herself to be led around. It was like there was no longer a person inside.

  Elio banged on the door again. “We need some help in here! Now!”

  The door flew open sending Elio stumbling backwards.

  “No!” Maria shouted, but it was too late.

  The guard launched at Elio and smashed a fist into his cheek. Elio’s head snapped around and he crumbled to the floor.

  Maria set Noor in the chair and crawled to her son. She screamed as she touched a wound on his cheek. She turned to the guard and hissed like a snake. “You sick animal!”

  The guard raised his fist, preparing to do the same to her.

  Maria ducked her head and curled her body over to protect her son.

  The guard strutted back to the open door. “If I come in again, someone’s getting their jaw broke.” He grinned wickedly like he couldn’t wait to come in again.

  Sick animal, indeed.

  He deserved to be put down like a rabid dog. If only Beth had a pentobarbital dart available. She’d spike it into his carotid artery and deal with the guilt.

  He closed the door and the lock clicked into place.

  Beth helped Elio to his feet. She examined the cut and wished she had some medical supplies; anything, really. The wound needed stitches but she had no way of administering that treatment.

  He touched his cheek and grimaced. “I’ll be fine. How are we going to get Theresa?”

  Beth almost smiled.

  The boy that had informally joined their household ten days ago was not the young man that faced her now. The affection he had for her daughter hadn’t changed. But the way in which Beth regarded him as a potential suitor had. He had the makings of a good man. A man worthy of her daughter’s future.

  If she had a future.

  A new voice floated in from outside the door.

  “Look at this! This shirt is ruined! Soda everywhere! Here, hold it for me. Oh my! I should’ve worn a bra!”

  70

  A loud smash and then a thud followed. The lock clicked open. Iridia, wearing nothing up top, poked her head in as the door opened. She grinned. The door opened further to reveal the guard crumpled up on the ground. A large metal vase lay next to him. “Looks like I’ve still got it, even if I haven’t seen my trainer in a million years.”

  Beth stared in shock.

  “Why is everyone just standing there? I’m here to rescue you,” Iridia said.

  No one moved.

  “There is a cure for Theresa’s sickness. It’s probably in the lab somewhere.”

  Still no one moved.

  “I’m waiting,” Iridia said as she slipped back into her shirt. She tapped her foot impatiently.

  Now that made sense.

  Beth’s brain clicked into gear. She turned to Elio. “I’ll go. You should stay with your mother and Noor.”

  Elio’s brow crinkled together.

  “They aren’t in any condition to go. Besides, I’m the best doctor we have.”

  Elio’s eyes dropped. “You’re right. You go.” He met her gaze again. “Save her.”

  Beth nodded and then turned to Iridia. “Let’s go!”

  They had to find the lab.

  “Might come in handy,” she said as she picked up the metal vase lying next to the unconscious guard. Though she was sorely tempted to kick him in the groin, she edged around and headed for the elevators.

  They entered an elevator. Beth stared at the card reader at a loss.

  Iridia grinned and pulled a keycard out of her pocket. “I stole it from my dad’s desk. I’m amazing, right? You can say it.”

  Beth accepted the offered card and swiped it over the reader.

  “Hello, Dr. Reshenko. Where do you wish to go?”

  Did they have a voice scanner type thing? One that would analyze the pitch and cadence of a person’s voice and identify it as uniquely as a fingerprint?

  She tried to sound like Anton, which came out horribly.

  “Uh, to the lab,” Beth said. “Please?”

  “Descending to the basement laboratory. Please stay clear of the doors.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid shut.

  Beth’s stomach jumped into her throat, partly from the acceleration as the car started its descent and partly because she couldn’t believe it worked.

  The elevator went on for what felt like forever before finally easing to a stop.

  “Basement Laboratory.” The doors dinged and slid open.

  A guard sat behind a desk with closed glass doors in the hallway beyond. He stood and circled around to step into their path.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Iridia stomped up and stopped inches from his face. At her height, she looked down a little to meet his gaze. “Who am I? Are you kidding me?”

  She looked back at Beth like the world had gone crazy, which it had. So Beth wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “I am Iridia Reshenko! Your boss’ daughter! Now get out of my
way!”

  The imperious tone exuded from her like a birthright. It oozed the expectation of obedience.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard replied. He checked the clipboard in his hands. “It’s just that I don’t see anything about you coming down. And Dr. Reshenko didn’t mention it.”

  “My father sent me to retrieve his notes. He is too busy for such trivialities. Now, open the doors!”

  The guard flinched like the lash of leather had bitten into his skin.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but who is this with you? And why is she carrying a flower vase?”

  “My father will have your head! Give me the phone!”

  The guard’s eyes opened wide.

  “Did you not hear me? Give me the phone!” Iridia’s tone exuded fury and entitlement. It broke the guard’s will. He turned to reach for the phone on his desk.

  His outstretched hand didn’t arrive at its destination.

  Beth raised the vase and chopped it down on the back of his head.

  The guard crashed to the floor.

  Iridia hopped around in little circles pumping her hands in the air. “We make a killer team!”

  “Keep an eye on the guard. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  Iridia nodded as Beth hurried to the glass doors and pushed. They didn’t budge. She swiped her card over the reader. A red light switched to green.

  “Welcome, Dr. Reshenko,” the same tastefully feminine voice said.

  She pushed on the door and it soundlessly eased open. Must’ve been magnetic.

  She ran through a hallway with floor to ceiling glass panels on each side. She passed glass doors all labeled things she didn’t care about.

  Spectrometry. Mycology. Other departments.

  There!

  She spotted what she was looking for.

  Patient Wing.

  She swiped Anton’s card and entered.

  A hallway with doors on the right. Each door had a large observation window in its center.

  She peeked into the first window. The room was empty. A sparkling clean white room about ten feet by eight feet with a stainless steel bunk. The next room wasn’t empty.