by Amy Cross
Just like Jane, the other day.
“Musgrave uses a modified version of the sickness,” Carter explains, “that acts much more quickly. This seems to have no impact on the relevance of his various tests, so it's acceptable from a clinical standpoint. Some of the victims can take up to a week to turn, and we simply don't have the luxury of waiting for that to happen.”
“The cure,” I stammer, before turning to her. “Where's the cure?”
“There are samples in the laboratory.”
I turn and hurry toward the door.
“He won't give it to you, though.”
“It's not his choice to make,” I say firmly.
“You can't even get back down there without me.”
“Then come and help!” I shout, turning back to her.
“He'll insist on waiting until the sickness is fully developed before administering the cure,” she explains calmly, as she reaches into her pocket and takes out a small black box. “There's no point acting sooner, not from his point of view. When it comes to these things, Musgrave can be a rather cold person. Screams and cries of pain won't make him budge.”
“Then I'll break in and take the cure!” I snap.
“I'm sure you'd like to do that, but it's impossible. The laboratory is designed to be impregnable and, well, you don't exactly have a lot of equipment, Thomas, do you? You'd need industrial cutting equipment to get into the laboratory without the proper code.”
“What's the code?” I snap.
“Don't be stupid,” she replies. “I'm never going to tell you that.”
She raises the box, holding it out toward Elizabeth.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “What's -”
Before I can finish, Elizabeth lets out a pained gasp and turns, scrambling away on all-fours before stopping near the tree-line and turning to us again.
“A sonic defense system,” Carter explains. “The frequency is too high for us to hear, but it keeps the creatures away. Don't worry, she won't go too far. There's nothing more interesting out there, so she'll stay as close to the building as she can manage. These creatures are chaotic in some regards, Thomas, but in others they're rather easy to predict. They're not -”
Suddenly Elizabeth lets out an anguished scream.
“Stop that!” I yell. “You're hurting her!”
“She has to learn.” Her face twitches slightly as she continues to watch Elizabeth's agony. “Pain is a signal that the body sends to the brain. It can be ignored, provided you mind is able to assert dominance over your body. Everyone would gain from learning how to do that.”
“I won't let you do this!” I add, hurrying over to grab the box.
Before I have a chance, however, Carter switches the device off and Elizabeth slumps down in a heap.
“It's scary, isn't it?” she says, with a hint of a smile. “Right now, the sickness is spreading through her body, infecting every cell. It's like a flower, blossoming inside her, but don't worry too much. Musgrave only needs the sickness to take root, and then he'll administer the cure. If everything goes according to plan, there'll be no physical damage and she'll be back to normal in no time. And then we'll know for certain that the cure really works.”
“You can't use people like this,” I tell her.
“I can do what I want,” she replies, “and anyway, I already told you that this is Musgrave's approach. I handle the development of the cure, and he deals with the testing side of things. So far, I'm happy with that arrangement. I really am very sorry that he chose to test it on your friend, but you mustn't lose all hope.”
I open my mouth to reply, but at that moment I hear a faint whimpering sound over my shoulder. I turn and see that Elizabeth is struggling back to her feet, although she looks far less steady than before.
“It can be distressing to watch them,” Carter explains. “Thomas, take my advice and find something else to do for a while. Then, after twenty-four hours or so, we can come back and watch as Musgrave gives her the cure, and everything will be fine. How does that sound?”
“I'm not leaving her,” I reply.
“You're being overly emotional and -”
“I'm not leaving her!” I say again, more firmly this time.
She sighs.
“Fine,” she mutters, before tossing the black device into my hands. “Use that to keep her away. She'll soon learn that the pain is excruciating, and then she won't try so much. If she's really troublesome, give her a longer burst, maybe thirty seconds or so. Sometimes that knocks them out for a while, but you shouldn't worry. There's no long-term damage.” She checks her watch. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do. I'm expecting to be called to Boston soon, once the fighting is properly over.”
“Give me the cure!” I shout, hurrying after her as she walks away. “Now!”
Suddenly she turns and aims a gun at my face.
“Don't threaten me,” she says, before aiming the gun toward Elizabeth. “I can put her out of her misery, if you'd prefer. The way you did with that girl the other day.”
She pauses, before turning and grinning at me.
“Would you like me to shoot her, Thomas? At least she'd no longer be suffering.”
I hesitate, before shaking my head.
“Good.” She lowers the gun. “Be patient, young man. You might not agree with our methods, but I can assure you that we're not barbarians. Her suffering will not be in vain. Trust me, Thomas. We're doing good work here.”
With that, she turns and walks away, leaving me to look back over at Elizabeth. I'm still holding the black box, and I hate the idea of using it against her. At the same time, she's staring at me with an expression of pure hatred. I don't think she's in there, not anymore.
She's hungry.
Suddenly I hear a boom in the distant, as if something exploded a few miles away. The sound is over almost as soon as it began, but it's a timely reminder that the rest of the world is still out there and that for all we know the battle for Boston might not be over yet.
“It's going to be okay,” I say to Elizabeth, turning to her as she snarls at me again. “I don't know how long it's going to take, but I swear everything will be okay.”
Elizabeth
“Henry! Wait!”
Hurrying along the corridor, I desperately try to reach my brother. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he keeps waving at me in the distance and then running away, and I never quite manage to reach him. I swear, I feel like I'm doing the same thing over and over again. Looking around the corner, I see yet another long corridor, and then I spot Henry at the far end.
Wait, did this happen before?
No.
My head feels strange, like I'm getting a bad case of deja vu, but I can't let anything distract me.
“Can you just wait for me?” I shout. “Henry, what's happening? I don't understand!”
He waves for a moment longer, and then he once again runs out of sight.
Sighing, I take a step forward, and then I stop as I realize that I've been doing this for a while now. He's always going to the right, which means I must just be going round and round in circles. If I go back the way I just came, I might be able to sneak up on him and make him stop playing this dumb game. I pause for a moment, and then I turn.
And then I freeze.
The corridor is gone.
I just ran this way, but now there's nothing behind me except absolute darkness. I wait, trying to figure out what's happening, and then I notice that the darkness seems to be slowly coming this way, eating the corridor away as it advance toward me. Looking down, I see the floor starting to disintegrate in front of my feet, and I instinctively take a step back.
Wait, how do I have two feet?
I lost one a while ago.
Feeling a little dizzy, and warm too, I step back again. The darkness is still spreading, and I feel as if I could simply fall forward and vanish into the nothingness. For a few seconds that idea seems tempting, but then I r
emember seeing Henry and I turn and hurry toward the next corner. When I get there, I can't shake the feeling that somehow this particular corridor was a little shorter than the last. In fact, each corridor seems just a little less long than its predecessor, as if I'm running deeper and deeper into the heart of some kind of maze.
And all the time, the darkness is chasing me, threatening to swallow me up.
Suddenly I spot Henry at the corridor's farthest end.
“Stay there until I reach you!” I shout. “Henry! Wait!”
Hurrying along the corridor, I desperately try to reach my brother. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he keeps waving at me in the distance and then running away, and I never quite manage to reach him. I swear, I feel like I'm doing the same thing over and over again. Looking around the corner, I see yet another long corridor, and then I spot Henry at the far end.
Wait, did this happen before?
No.
My head feels strange, like I'm getting a bad case of deja vu, but I can't let anything distract me.
“Can you just wait for me?” I shout. “Henry, what's happening? I don't understand!”
Thomas
“I'm sorry about what they did to you,” I continue, feeling as if I should say something before I strike the match. “All the experiments, I mean. I'm sorry no-one stopped that. I don't even know what she wanted with all those pieces of you, all those little chunks she cut off, but it was wrong. I mean, unless she had a really good reason, but I don't think she did.”
Furrowing my brow, I realize that I maybe just contradicted myself.
“It's about respect and decency,” I add, trying to get back on track. “It's about treating each other right.”
I pause, trying to think of something else, of something meaningful. I guess I've never really been good at stuff like that, so instead I watch Jane's face as the ants continue to swarm. Deep down, I'm half-expecting her to say something, or for her to show some other sign that she's still in there, but finally I realize that I'm just delaying the inevitable. I'm waiting for some kind of poetic moment that's never coming.
“Sorry,” I say again. “It'll be alright. I promise.”
With that, I light the match and let it fall.
The flames are instant, rushing across the ground and up to Jane's face. But then, in that final moment, I look up and see that she's not a zombie at all. She looks just like she the photo on her license. For a fraction of a second, I see her horrified features as the flames begin to envelop her.
“Why did you do this?” she screams. “I'm not -”
“No!” I shout, suddenly leaning forward and then finding that I'm sitting on the grass outside the old hospital.
It takes a moment before I realize that I must have nodded off. I scramble to my feet, with the black box still in my hand, and then I turn to see that Elizabeth is still over by the trees.
I didn't actually fall asleep, I'd never be that stupid, but I did let my eyes slip shut for a fraction of a second, and that's all it took for memories of Jane to flood back into my mind. For a moment, I can still see her 'normal' face in the flames, even though I know she was a zombie when she burned. But if there really is a cure, did I act too quickly? If I'd waited, is there a chance that she could have been saved?
Suddenly hearing footsteps nearby, I turn and see little Polly Musgrave watching me from nearby.
“How long have you been there?” I ask, a little defensively. I really don't like the way this kid sneaks around the place.
I wait, but of course she doesn't reply.
“You must have seen some terrible things,” I continue. “It can't be much fun being a kid and watching the world fall apart. I thought I was a kid when it started, but now...”
I pause, and for the first time I see a glimmer of emotion in her face. It's as if she's trying really hard to act calm, to pretend that nothing's wrong.
She probably wants to break down sobbing.
Nearby, Elizabeth lets out another snarl.
Polly and I both turn to look, and we watch for a moment as Elizabeth pulls on the rope around her neck.
“Apparently your father's working on a cure,” I say, turning back to Polly. “Is that true? Have you seen anything to suggest that this cure actually works?”
She doesn't reply. Instead, she simply continues to watch Elizabeth for a moment longer, as if she's fascinated by the sight of another human being struggling in so much pain. In fact, it's almost as if she's interested in what she's seeing, and a moment later she takes a couple of steps toward the spot where Elizabeth is restrained.
“Hey!” I call out. “Be careful!”
She ignores me and steps closer, until Elizabeth turns and lunges at her. The rope pull tight, holding Elizabeth back but only by a few feet. Polly shows no sign of fear, however; she simply stands and watches as Elizabeth snarls and rages, and after a moment she begins to hold out a hand.
“Hey!” I shout.
Elizabeth tries to bite Polly's hand, but again she falls short.
“Don't mess around with these things!” I snap, hurrying over and pulling Polly away. “What if that rope suddenly gives way, huh? There's no point taking unnecessary risks!”
She still doesn't respond. She's watching Elizabeth, almost mesmerized by the sight of her. At the same time, I look at Elizabeth for a moment and then I turn away, not wanting to see any more of her suffering. After a few seconds, however, I realize that Polly is still watching, so I grab her by the shoulder and force her to turn away.
“No!” she hisses, snapping free of my grip and insisting on looking at Elizabeth again.
“What's wrong with you?” I ask, before picking her up and starting to carry her away.
“Stop!” she yells, and suddenly she starts smashing her fists against my back. “Leave me alone!”
“You can't just stand there and stare at her like that!” I say firmly. “It's not -”
Before I can finish, she digs her fingernails into the side of my face and starts scratching. I let out a pained gasp and drop her, and then I turn to see that she's hurrying back over to watch Elizabeth. Feeling a trickle of blood on my left cheek, I reach up and feel several thick scratches in the skin.
“Little asshole,” I mutter under my breath, watching as she ventures closer and closer to Elizabeth, almost as if she's daring herself. “I'm trying to help you!”
For a moment, I consider just letting her get on with things, but then I realize that as the adult in this situation I have a duty to keep her safe. I take a step forward, figuring that this time I won't let her fight back, but suddenly I hear a distant rumbling sound, and I turn just in time to spot something moving at the far end of the building.
Shocked, I watch as some kind of truck judders to a halt in front of the main steps, and then I hear a voice yelling.
“What the hell?” I whisper, before hurrying along the side of the building.
By the time I get to the far end, a man has clambered out of the truck and hurried around to the rear, and I watch as he frantically tries to get the back section open.
“Help!” he shouts. “If there's anybody here, we need help!”
“What's wrong?” I ask, as the man clambers into the truck's rear section.
“Do you have a doctor here?” he replies.
“Sure, but -”
“Go and get him!” he snaps. “Hurry!”
Stepping over to the truck's rear, I look inside and see that the man is leaning over a slumped figure on the floor. And then, just as I'm trying to work out what's happening, I hear a trickling sound. Looking down, I see that blood is dribbling from the rear of the truck and splattering down against my shoes.
Thomas
“Get away from him!” Carter snaps, shoving the soldier back as she drops to her knees next to the injured man. “Tell me his name!”
“David,” the soldier says, his voice trembling slightly as he steps down from the rear of the truck and stops next to me.
“I don't know his surname.”
“Can you hear me, David?” Carter asks, shifting around him slightly as she continues to kneel in the blood. “What happened here?”
“We were supposed to be patrolling the area around Boston,” the soldier replies, “but there was some kind of trap. Something exploded and sent him twenty feet into the air. It's a miracle he's still alive. I was going to try to get him back to the city, but then I spotted movement up here so I figured maybe it was worth a shot.”
“He's bleeding from everywhere,” Carter says, reaching down and touching the injured man's shoulder, “and -”
Suddenly the man lets out an agonized, gurgling cry. He tries to sit up, and for a fraction of a second I see his bloodied, torn face with most of the right side having been blasted away.
“Quiet!” Carter says, placing a hand on his chest and forcing him back down. “Hush!”
“I told him to be careful,” the soldier says, turning and taking some steps away. After a moment he stops and puts his hands over his face, as if he can't stand to see or hear any more of what's happening. “We survived the whole battle, and now he's taken out by a goddamn trip-wire.”
“Is the battle over?” I ask, as the man continues to groan in the back of the truck.
The soldier turns to me.
“We took Boston,” he says after a moment. “There were so many of us, we overran them.”
“Did you capture them all?” I ask.
“A lot of them died. Some of ours, too. A few of them escaped, and I think there are about twenty prisoners.”
“What about someone named Marter?” I ask, thinking back to what Elizabeth told me about her father. “I think he was high up in the people who were running Boston.”
“I don't know the name,” he replies. “I don't really know any names, to be honest. All I know is that they had an organization there, I think they called it the Council. Some of the members fled as soon as the fighting started, but some stayed behind and fought to the end. The ones who stayed didn't last long. The prisoners are mostly ordinary people who got caught up in the fighting.”
