by Amy Cross
Musgrave is clearly scared, but finally he steps up behind Elizabeth and raises his right hand. He's holding a syringe as he approaches her left shoulder.
“You should have restrained her better,” he complains. “This is -”
“Just do it!” Carter shouts.
He hesitates again, and then he reaches out and slides the needle into Elizabeth's arm. She doesn't seem to notice as he pushes the plunger down, injecting her with the serum, and then he quickly pulls the syringe out and hurries back so that he's out of danger.
“There,” he says, “it's done. Now we just have to wait.”
“Can we let go?” I ask.
“Do it,” Carter says.
We both let go of the ropes around her wrists, and Elizabeth immediately pulls away from the tree and lunges at Carter. There's still a rope around her neck, however, and this pulls her back until she stumbles and falls. So far, Zombie-Elizabeth still hasn't figured out how to get about with only one foot, and I guess that'd slow her down a fair bit in the unlikely event that she actually got free.
“How long will it take?” I ask, watching as Elizabeth struggles over and over to get up.
“That part is variable,” Musgrave explains, “but we should see some significant improvements over the next twelve hours.”
“Twelve hours?” I reply. “We have to wait that long?”
“There's a lot of damage to undo,” he replies. “The serum's ability to spread through the body is impacted by the lack of a strong heartbeat. Her heart should have still been beating all this time, but only at about a quarter of its usual rate. Fortunately for her, the virus somehow preserves the brain and other vital organs for a period of time, so her recovery should be fairly stable. Give it a couple of days and I confidently predict that she'll be back to normal. More or less, anyway. But the important thing is that the serum's worth will be beyond doubt.”
“Okay,” I say cautiously, “but what if -”
“I don't have time to explain it all,” he says dismissively, turning and heading back toward the hospital's main door. “You wouldn't understand, anyway.”
Turning back to Elizabeth, I can't help but notice that nothing seems to have changed. She still looks like a ferocious, snarling zombie.
“This is going to work, isn't it?” I say after a moment. “It has to work.”
“There's no point standing here and watching her all day, Thomas,” Carter replies. “Come inside. I have something to show you.”
***
“Poor Adam,” she says a short while later, as we stand in front of the three cages in the underground chamber. “He's really not in a very good way, is he?”
As she speaks, I can't help but stare at the rotten, emaciated zombie that's struggling wildly in the nearest cage. This Adam guy is in such a bad state, his legs have come away from the rest of his body, and frankly it's hard to believe that he's able to move at all. He's clinging to the side of the cage, though, and somehow he seems to have found enough anger and hunger to keep going. For now, anyway. At this rate, he looks like he's on the verge of completely falling apart.
“What are we doing down here?” I ask, feeling a little frustrated that I let her lure me down into the laboratory. I should be outside, watching Elizabeth. “Do you just come down here and gloat over these creatures?”
“Of course not,” she replies, before reaching into her pocket and taking out a syringe. She removes the cap. “We don't have much of the serum at the moment, but I believe I can spare a small amount in order to -”
Before she can finish, Adam slams himself against the cage, gasping angrily as he desperately tries to reach out and grab us both.
“He has weeks left, at most,” Carter says, as he slumps down to the cage's floor. “There's something very peculiar about the sickness, Thomas. It lets most of the body rot, but it somehow manages to preserve the parts that it considers important. These are the parts, I suppose, that are required if the body is to remain mobile. Although even that can't last forever.”
She steps closer to the cage and holds the syringe out.
“I usually deny that this is possible,” she continues. “I don't want other to be burdened with the knowledge, but Thomas... I'm afraid you were right about the girl the other day. There was almost certainly some small flicker of her original mind left in that husk of a body. It's left in all of them, or at least in all the specimens that I've encountered.”
She reaches the syringe carefully between the bars, and I flinch as I watch the needle slides into Adam's shoulder.
“Why isn't he reacting?” I ask, horrified by what I'm seeing.
“I doubt he's able to feel the pain,” she replies as she slowly presses the plunger down.
Once she's done, she removes the syringe and steps back.
“That was merely a tiny dose of the serum,” she explains. “Much less than the quantity Doctor Musgrave gave to your friend a short while ago. But it should be enough to -”
Suddenly Adam lets out a gasp, and I watch as he raises his head and looks straight at me.
“What's wrong with him?” I ask, taking a step back. “What have you done?”
Carter doesn't reply. Instead, we both stand and watch as Adam's head tilts slightly, and finally his mouth begins to slip open.
“What's he doing?” I ask. “It's almost like...”
My voice trails off as I see the anger fade from Adam's face. Suddenly he looks so different, as if he's scared, and after a moment I realize that he's letting out a series of pained gasps. His mouth is still moving, almost as if...
“He's trying to speak,” I whisper, even though it's hard to believe that this is possible. I pause, before turning to Carter. “Is that what's happening? Is he actually trying to say something?”
“The serum can't cure him,” she explains, as the gasps continue. “His condition is far too advanced. At this stage, all the serum can do – especially in low doses – is allow the worst of the sickness to be peeled back. His mind is still in there, Thomas, and it's trying desperately to break through. Now you understand, I hope, that the serum really can bring your friend Elizabeth back.”
“What's he trying to say?” I ask.
“Listen closely, Thomas,” she replies. “You might actually learn something.”
I hesitate, before taking a step toward the cage. The stench of rotting flesh is almost unbearable, but Adam is letting out a series of faint growls that are starting to sound more and more like actual words. And as I get even closer to the cage, I'm finally able to make out part what he's trying to tell me.
“Susan,” he gasps. “Tell Susan...”
“Who's Susan?” I reply.
“Tell her I love her,” he continues. “Find her. Tell her.”
I turn to Carter, and to my surprise I see that she seems to have tears in her eyes. As soon as she meets my gaze, however, she sniffs the tears back and wipes the corners of her eyes.
“Look at the zombie,” she snaps. “Not at me.”
“Find Susan,” Adam continues. “Tell her I... was trying to get back... to her.”
“Is Susan your wife?” I ask, as a shiver runs through my chest. “I don't know where to find her. What's your real name?”
“Tell her I didn't abandon her,” he gasps. “I was... coming back when... it...”
He hesitates, and now he looks utterly horrified by something.
“Who's Susan?” I ask, keen to help him. “Give me a full name. Tell me where to find her. I need more to go on than just -”
Suddenly he snarls and lunges at me, slamming hard against the cage with such force that I immediately take a couple of steps back. It's as if, having briefly been pushed aside, the zombie part of Adam is now determined to regain control. The entire cage seems to rattle for a moment, almost as if Adam might be about to escape, but the gate holds firm and after a few seconds I turn to Carter.
“They're all still in there, Thomas,” she says calmly. “Waiting. Suffe
ring. Seeing what they're doing. And that might be the greatest tragedy of all.”
I want to tell her that she's wrong, that these people can't be trapped inside their zombie forms, but at the same time I can't help replaying Adam's terrified voice, hearing his words over and over again.
Before I can say anything, I spot movement nearby, and I turn to see that little Polly has come through to join us.
“It's okay,” Carter tells her, “we were just leaving. Come along, Thomas. I'll show you some more of the work that we've been doing here.”
“What about her?” I ask, going over to join Carter but then glancing back and watching as Polly sits down in front of the cages and crosses her legs. “What's she doing here?”
“She loves to watch the zombies,” Carter replies, lowering her voice a little. “Don't worry, she knows not to get too close.” She leans closer. “The kid's not right in the head. She wasn't before all of this started, and she certainly isn't now. At least this keeps her out of trouble. Now let's go. There's still so much that you need to understand. And we're going to start with a short trip.”
I follow her out of the chamber, although at the last moment I can't help but glance back at Polly for a moment. She really is just sitting there and staring up at the cages. Maybe I'm wrong, but I really don't think a little kid should find zombies so fascinating.
Thomas
“Can you hear me?” I ask, as Elizabeth continues to stare at me. “Are you -”
Suddenly she snarls and lunges at me, although the rope holds her back. I want to believe that she's showing some signs of improvement, that maybe she looks a little as if she's getting better, but in truth she looks the same as before. In fact, if anything has changed at all, she might even have become a little worse.
“Thomas, come on!” Carter calls out from nearby. “I need your help with this!”
“Are you in there?” I ask, as I continue to watch Elizabeth's face closely, hoping for even the faintest hint of her real personality. “If you can hear me, I swear it's going to be okay. I know you must be scared right now, but you've been given a cure and it's going to work. Carter showed me something just now, she showed me proof. You might not feel it yet, but I swear you're going to get better soon.”
I wait, still hoping for a good sign, but finally I realize that I might still be too early. I guess I just have to go and join Carter on this mission, and hope that Elizabeth is getting better by the time we return.
***
“You're both under arrest,” Robert says from the back-seat of his truck, as Carter drives us away from the hospital, “and in accordance with the law I demand that you surrender and untie me immediately.”
“Put a sock in it,” Carter mutters.
“Refusal to submit to -”
“Don't make me put an actual sock in your mouth,” she adds, and it's clear now that she's very annoyed. “Your droning voice is becoming highly irritating and I haven't changed my socks in about five days, so you really would not want them both stuffed into your big, ugly mouth.”
“You're also -”
“Then again,” she continues, “my feet have been quite sweaty lately. Maybe I should air them out a little.”
“Please don't,” I say.
“You're also stealing a military vehicle,” Robert continues, “which is a criminal act punishable by -”
“You weren't a soldier before all of this started,” Carter says, interrupting him again. The truck bumps over a particularly rough section of road. “When I was tying you up, I noticed how soft your hands are. Also, don't take this the wrong way, but you hold a gun all wrong. You hold it like someone who only sees guns in movies. On top of that, you're not in particularly good shape. You're an attractive man and you're pretty lean, but you're not fit. So I'm thinking you had a desk job and -”
“You don't know anything about me,” Robert sneers.
“I know you're a dick.”
“And I know you're going to rot in a cell soon,” he replies confidently. “All of you. You're nothing but -”
Before he can say another word, we reach an intersection in the road and Carter slams her foot against the brakes. She and I both judder forward, held mostly in place by the safety belts she insisted we wear, but I hear a loud thud followed by a groan as Robert is sent crashing into the back of my seat.
“Whoops,” Carter says, before opening the door and climbing out of the truck. “End of the road. Thomas, get this asshole out of our new truck.”
I hesitate for a moment, before clambering out and opening the door next to Robert.
“You heard her,” I say cautiously, as he glares at me. “Out.”
“You can still save yourself,” he replies. “Help me, and I'll put in a good word for you. I can tell you're a good kid, you don't want to be mixed up in all of this. This woman is insane.”
“She's the only chance my friend has,” I remind him, “so get out of the truck.”
“She's probably the one who infected your friend,” he grumbles, as he wriggles across the seat and then jumps out onto the tarmac. His hands are still tied firmly behind his back. “She blames that buddy of hers, but it was probably her all along.”
“Kneel,” Carter says, stepping up behind him.
“Or -”
“Kneel.” She raises a gun, aiming it straight at his face. “And believe me,” she continues, “I'm not the kind of person who'd run out of ammunition at an inopportune moment. I'm not that much of an incompetent buffoon.”
He pauses, and then slowly he kneels.
“I meant with your back to me,” Carter says, rolling her eyes. “Never mind. If you want a job done properly...”
She steps around him and presses the gun against the back of his head.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, suddenly realizing that there's a different expression on her face. Usually she carries a faint smile, no matter what she's doing, but right now she looks icily calm. “What are you doing to him?”
I wait, but she says nothing.
Robert waits too, as if he's suddenly been struck by the gravity of the situation.
Carter adjusts her finger on the trigger.
After a moment, I realize that I'm holding my breath.
“Thomas,” she says finally, “put a blindfold on this sack of shit.”
“What do -”
“Put a blindfold on him,” she says again, through gritted teeth. “That's not a hard instruction to understand.”
I hesitate, and then I start looking around for something I can use.
“In the truck, dumb-ass,” she continues. “Just find something. Anything. And hurry.”
“You're not going to -”
“Do it!” she snaps.
Realizing that there's no point arguing, I head to the truck and start searching for a suitable piece of fabric. My hands are trembling slightly, and I have to keep telling myself that this isn't as bad as it seems, that Carter didn't drive us all the way out here just to shoot Robert in the back of the head.
That I'm not assisting in an execution.
“There's this,” I say finally, walking back over with a piece from what looks like an old safety belt. “Maybe it could -”
“Tie it over his eyes,” she replies, keeping her eyes fixed on Robert and the gun aimed at the back of his head. “Make damn sure he can't see a thing.”
I pause, and then I do as I'm told.
She's not going to execute him.
She can't.
Even Carter isn't that crazy.
“Get it tight,” she continues. “Come on, hurry up.”
“Give me a moment,” I reply, pulling the back of the belt tight into a knot.
“Good little puppy,” Robert whispers. “Doing everything the bitch tells you.”
Ignoring him, I finish tying the blindfold and then I take a step back. And then, as I wait for Carter to say something, I realize that she seems lost in thought as she continues to aim the gun at Robert'
s head.
I'm holding my breath again.
“Get up,” she says finally.
“Why?” he asks. “You're only going to -”
“Get on your feet,” she adds.
He pauses, and then he stands.
“You're going to walk away from here,” she explains.
“That'll be a little hard, if I can't see where I'm going.”
“I don't particularly want you to be able to find your way back,” she continues. “Not too quickly, anyway. What I want is for you to wander a little, and then to get picked up by some of your buddies while they're out on patrol. And then you get a message to Patterson in Boston, tell him Carter's ready for him. He'll understand what to do next. Do you understand your orders, puppy?”
“I'll come back and kill you,” he sneers.
“Not a smart thing to say to the bitch with a gun pointed at your head.”
He mutters something under his breath.
“My name is Sarah Carter,” she continues, “and I have friends in very, very high places. I know your name, Robert Clayborne, and let me promise you one thing. If you get in my fucking way, you're going to end up on the wrong end of some real military justice. Not the playful posturing you've demonstrated so far, but something far more real. Something that isn't the product of a sad little moron's overactive imagination. So go do what I just told you to do, and then fuck off and never let me see your miserable face again. I'm willing to forget your idiocy, but if I were you I'd try not to ever remind me. Got it?”
She waits.
He says nothing.
Suddenly she pulls the trigger.
Robert flinches and falls forward, letting out a shocked cry in the process, but Carter must have adjusted her aim while she was talking. At first I assume she simply shot the bullet into the ground, although after a few seconds I notice that the tip of Robert's ear is burned and bleeding.
“Bitch!” he snaps. “My fucking ears are ringing!”
“Crawl away,” she replies, before turning and heading back to the truck. “Thomas, you're with me. Let's get home and see if we can speed things up a little. Your friend Elizabeth should be looking a little less peaky by now.”
