Z. Apocalypse

by Steve Cole

  ‘People will always be people however you mess with their heads,’ Zoe insisted. ‘I mean, I’m not some stupid experiment, I’m— I’m somebody.’ There was fear and pleading in her eyes as she gazed up at Josephs. ‘Please. Leave me as I am.’

  ‘With the global chain of events we’ve set in motion, that’s not even an option. Not for any of us.’ From a drawer beside the computer Josephs removed what looked like a high-tech hairnet studded with tiny electrodes. She crossed to Zoe and started fitting the net carefully to the contours of her head.

  ‘Get off!’ Zoe tried to pull away. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Preparing the neural interface. The sensors in the net will measure and map the pathways of your brain, absorb the codings of your personality, your memories – and build a virtual reconstruction here on our hard drives.’

  ‘No,’ pleaded Zoe. ‘No . . .’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Josephs plucked a long wire from Zoe’s electronic hairnet and plugged it into what looked like a large metal coffin standing against the wall. A single red light on the coffin’s blank, battered face glowed to acknowledge the connection – and Zoe’s entire body went limp, as if some switch inside her had been suddenly thrown.

  ‘What have you done?’ Adam whispered.

  ‘I’ve placed Zoe in a state of sensory deprivation. It is necessary.’

  ‘How is any of this necessary?’

  ‘A new era is beginning – I know that sounds corny, but it’s true.’ Josephs got up, took something from the steel trolley, and walked towards him. ‘If we are going to reboot human existence, we must wipe out all the obsolete peoples of the world and replace them with our own.’

  Adam struggled, but the guards’ grip only tightened. ‘You . . . you’re mad!’

  She pushed her face up close to his. ‘You think the world as it is now is better?’ she hissed. ‘That is madness.’

  Adam tried to think of something smart to say back – then gasped at a sting in his arm. As Josephs stepped back, he saw that she was holding a hypodermic syringe. ‘What was . . . What are you . . .?’

  ‘The wheels are already in motion.’ Josephs’ face began to blur and distort as whatever she’d given him tingled through his bloodstream. ‘And you, Adam, with your Think-Send skills and the ear of the United States military . . . you are going to help to bring it about.’

  Chapter 16: People Can Change

  ADAM WOKE IN darkness. Memories tumbled back from sleep’s shadows, and with them, fear. He was strapped down over his body and legs; only his arms were free. He tried to touch his temples, but his fingers brushed metal; he was wearing some kind of headset, as if ready to play Ultra-Reality.

  Why was I drugged? Adam scraped his tongue about his dry mouth; questions whirled through his mind. Where am I now? How long has it been? Where’s Zoe? The hiss and whirr of hard drives spoke of computers somewhere close by, and a faint light was stealing in from somewhere. He could just make out a clock on the wall.

  It was one thirty p.m. He’d been out for hours.

  Adam pawed at the fastenings of the strap around his midriff, but couldn’t loosen it. ‘Zoe?’ he hissed nervously. ‘Are you there?’

  A rough hand clamped down over his lips.

  Surprised, Adam tried to scream – then heard a familiar voice, low and hoarse in his ear. ‘Don’t. Please, Ad, stay quiet.’

  Adam couldn’t believe it. He looked up through the dark and saw a faint silhouette. ‘Dad?’

  ‘I’m so glad to see you, Ad. Now please, they mustn’t hear us.’

  Adam nodded his understanding.

  ‘I didn’t want to lie to you. They made me.’ His speech was a little slurred and he was wearing a lab coat. ‘You’ll feel woozy for a while. Josephs put you to sleep, but I’ve woken you. I wasn’t supposed to, but . . .’

  ‘Why did she drug me?’

  ‘Wait. Let me check there’s no one close by.’ Mr Adlar swept aside a thick dark curtain, which partitioned the couch from the rest of the room like a patient’s bed in a hospital ward. Adam could now see that the faint light had been coming from three large computer monitors, which were sitting on a long workbench, half buried in wires and circuits and other high-tech clutter. Adam watched, heart in throat, as his father went over to the computers and tapped at a keyboard. A window opened on the main screen, showing a view of the corridors outside.

  ‘How did you do that?’ he whispered, his throat sandpaper dry.

  Mr Adlar did not turn round, staring at the screen intently. ‘I hacked into the security camera feed without anyone knowing.’ With the tap of another key the image changed to show the airstrip; a plane had landed, its bundled-up passengers handing luggage to waiting guards. Another tap, and the view switched to the streets above, the concrete buildings crumbling and stained with decay.

  With every tap an unpleasant new view was revealed: there was Mr Thierry in a room crowded with televisions switched to different newsfeeds . . . The Neural Suite where he and Zoe had been taken, now empty . . . A strange cavernous space, piled high with the bodies of cattle and horses; some of the animals were still alive, standing dejected, crushed in together. With a stammer in his heart, Adam saw a Z. rex dart into the frame – not Zed, it was bigger and dull brown in colour, like the ones sent to Patuxent. It swallowed a whole horse in one bloody bite and, as the surrounding animals scattered, limping feebly, they revealed the giant bulk of a pterosaur lying sprawled on the filthy floor.

  No way, that can’t be—?

  The picture changed as his dad clicked on. ‘Dad, wait,’ Adam hissed. ‘Go back!’

  But his dad was busy moving the images on. The next view showed the length of another bare corridor, painted white. ‘It’s all right,’ he muttered. ‘They’re not keeping tabs. Must think I’m fully under.’

  ‘Under what?’ Adam was hardly listening. ‘Dad, go back, please,’ he said desperately. ‘That room with the animals . . .’

  ‘That’s where they let the Z. beasts rest between missions.’ Mr Adlar tapped back the other way until he got to the cavernous concrete space again. ‘As you can imagine, they need a lot of feeding. Thierry has to clone livestock by the cartload to meet those things’ appetites.’

  ‘But, Dad, that’s Keera in there!’

  ‘The pterosaur, you mean?’

  Adam cringed, watching the Z. dactyl twitch as bloody hooves trampled her body. ‘Of course, the pterosaur!’

  ‘Must be down for recycling. Some of the creatures develop mental problems. It’s easiest to feed them back to the healthy ones. There’s nothing we can do.’ His back still to Adam, Mr Adlar shook his head. ‘The animals are herded in to be eaten alive, or dropped in through the roof hatch the Z. beasts use to get in and out. Both ways are guarded. If the pterosaur isn’t dead already, she soon will be.’

  ‘You’re talking like you don’t even know her.’ A thought filtered through Adam’s muddled brain. ‘Why won’t you look at me?’

  Mr Adlar let out a heavy breath. ‘I was never meant to speak to you. Supposed to just come in and give you the treatment like I did the others . . . Like you’re a stranger.’ He picked up a spent syringe from the workbench. ‘But how could I not wake you, and talk with you? You’re all I have left. I miss you so much every day, every single day.’

  Adam was starting to feel severely creeped out. ‘I don’t get you, Dad. What are you talking about?’

  Slowly, hesitantly, Mr Adlar turned to face Adam in the dim light from the monitors. ‘Ad, what’s on the outside doesn’t matter. I . . . I know you might be scared, but I’m just the same. You must know, you heard me telling you those memories on the phone, I’m . . .’

  ‘No.’ Adam barely croaked out the word as all reason left his head.

  In the eerie glow of the screens, he could see now: This wasn’t his dad. It was a monster. The skin on that careworn, much loved face had turned scaly, reptilian, distorting the features. The whole head was hairless, the ears and nose flattened t
o barely more than bumps and ridges in the thick, alien flesh.

  ‘I’ve gone mad,’ Adam whispered, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. ‘This is another of Geneflow’s sick stunts. I’m wearing the Ultra-Reality helmet, right? It’s just another simulation—’

  ‘It’s me, Ad.’ The thing that sounded like his father held up scaly hands as if to calm him down. ‘It’s Dad.’

  ‘What did they do to you?’ Adam wanted to scream and shout. ‘I mean, they only took you a few days ago . . .’

  ‘No, Adam. I’ve been here for months. I told you, Josephs made me lie to you.’ A deep shuddering breath in the dark, then more words, slurred and bitter. ‘Geneflow cloned me from a blood sample they took back in Edinburgh. While they were holding me they mapped my mind, replicated my memories and made me into this. A half man who remembers you, loves you – even if I don’t look like the man you care about.’

  Adam swallowed back bile. ‘They made you . . . a monster.’

  ‘Josephs calls me a pioneer of New Humanity.’ The half-human Adlar turned away again as if ashamed. ‘See, they needed me for my skill with Think-Send. But once the bulk of my duties had been performed, they made me a part of their controlled evolution programme.’

  Adam couldn’t help but stare again. ‘Josephs said about making human-reptile hybrids . . .’

  ‘Yes.’ The reptile-man turned round to face Adam again, a harder rasping edge to his words. ‘Stronger, powerful bodies, harder to break than yours. Bodies that heal faster, that resist radiation, like the Z. beasts – so much better suited to post-apocalyptic conditions.’

  Adam froze. ‘Post-what?’ He remembered Josephs’ words – your world will perish – and the Geneflow sim that had got him into this whole mess. A landscape of endless ruins . . .

  ‘The apocalypse, Adam. Total destruction.’

  Adam stared helplessly at the creature confronting him. ‘Geneflow are working for Russia, aren’t they? They’re going to start World War Three . . .’

  ‘There’ll be a nuclear war, yes. But Geneflow aren’t working for the Russians. And Geneflow don’t have nuclear weapons. They don’t need them.’

  ‘Then how can they start a war . . .?’

  ‘Don’t you see, Ad? All these high-profile attacks, on the White House, on the British and Israeli parliaments . . . the one they’re planning on Mongolia’s capital . . .’ The half-man shook his hideous head. ‘Geneflow have set the nations of the world at each other’s throats, breeding suspicion, trying to push the planet to the brink of war . . .’

  Adam clutched at a forlorn hope. ‘But . . . if Russia’s not to blame, there’ll be no real evidence.’

  ‘That’s where I come in. Me and those kidnapped experts . . .’ The reptile-man looked at the floor. ‘Their minds have been mapped and copied, ready to be uploaded into hybrid bodies like mine. So now Geneflow can allow a few of the originals to think they’ve escaped – and make things even worse.’

  ‘I don’t get you.’

  ‘I’ve Think-Sent false memories in these people’s heads. Whole scenes, rendered in Ultra-Reality and placed directly in the brain.’ A boasting tone began to edge his words. ‘I’ve made a Russian scientist believe he’s been held in secret by the CIA, and a Western scientist believe he’s been a prisoner of the Kremlin . . .’ He laughed, short and hard. ‘That’s real programming skill, Ad. That’s game design like nothing else.’

  ‘It’s horrible,’ Adam whispered. ‘They’ll really believe they’re telling the truth . . .’

  ‘And as witnesses they’re so well respected, their countries won’t doubt them. The global situation will worsen further with accusations and counter accusations – until someone pushes the big red button.’ The cloned Bill Adlar twitched. ‘If we’re going to reboot human existence, we must wipe out all the obsolete peoples of the world and replace them with our own.’

  ‘That’s not you talking, it’s Josephs.’ Adam felt sick. ‘She’s brainwashed you! Used my dad’s – your – invention to make you think what she wants you to think!’

  ‘Homo sapiens will be launched all over again, only this time our species will thrive by intelligent design. Think-Send will educate new humans, unite them in creating one global nation.’

  ‘Ruled over by Josephs and her friends,’ said Adam bitterly.

  ‘Course, it’ll be at least ten years before conventional farming and food production is possible again.’ The half-man seemed lost in the nightmare picture he was painting. ‘During that decade, the Z. beasts will hunt down all survivors of the Apocalypse and kill them. The last of old humanity, gone . . .’

  ‘But if there’s no food . . .?’

  ‘We clone our meat and grain here, we recycle our waste water.’ The hybrid crossed to the couch and stared down at him. ‘Above us the city’s ready to fall, but down here we can go on for forty years or more – sealed off from the surface, and powered by our own atomic plant. Chartered planes are bringing all personnel here to sit out the nuclear winter . . .’

  Adam had heard enough. ‘Great! You can all sit around playing sims for years.’

  ‘With the old world razed, we can go out and begin a better one.’ The hybrid smiled. ‘We can withstand the radioactive conditions. We can work for hours without tiring. We’ll pave the way so that human beings reach their true potential, their zenith . . .’

  As his dad’s clone moved away, Adam could see the security monitor again. He stared miserably at Keera’s half trampled form. Then with an electric shock in his chest, he caught sight of a quilted bundle lying in the crook of one of the pterosaur’s giant wings.

  Oh my God.

  ‘Zoe!’ Adam struggled uselessly against the straps that pinned him to the couch. ‘They’ve put Zoe in there!’

  ‘Who’s Zoe?’

  ‘She is!’ Adam jabbed a finger at the screen. ‘We’ve got to get her out. She’ll be torn to pieces!’

  ‘The Z. beasts would do the same to you.’ The reptile-man was holding a length of wire, and took a step towards him. ‘It’s OK, Adam. In a short while now . . . We’ll be together again.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Adam watched, skin crawling, as his cloned dad drew closer – then remembered Josephs: A new era is beginning . . . and you, Adam, with your Think-Send skills and with the ear of the United States military . . . you are going to help to bring it about. ‘You’re going to put fake evidence in my head too, aren’t you?’

  ‘I have to, Ad.’ The reptile man looked ashamed. ‘I’ve so longed to talk with you . . . but once you’re conditioned you’ll forget all we’ve said. You’ll only remember what we tell you to.’

  ‘Please—’

  ‘But I still need to tell you, the only reason I’ve helped them, is because they promised to clone you too.’ The creature’s scaly flesh puckered in a sad smile. ‘Josephs just showed me the start of the process that will bring a new you into the world.’

  ‘A new me?’ Adam’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘Dad, you can’t do this.’

  ‘I must.’ The clone sounded so tired. ‘Everything’s prepared. Fake memories, impressions, dialogue for you to recall and pass on . . .’ The half-man pushed the wire into a connector on the Think-Send helmet. A pulse of energy buzzed through Adam’s brain and he gasped with pain.

  ‘I’m . . . sorry,’ the half-man said.

  ‘My real dad would never hurt me.’ Adam swallowed the threatening tears. ‘He’d never settle for a different me, something fake.’

  ‘You’ll be just the same, Ad.’

  ‘I’ll hate you for ever!’

  ‘We can change the way you think. Make you forget what I’ve done.’ Though the reptilian skin made it hard to read emotion, the clone’s grey eyes glistened as if with tears. ‘I lost your mother. I won’t lose you too.’

  ‘Please!’ Adam’s voice grew higher, more urgent. ‘If you let me go, I could help you, warn my real dad and Oldman that—’

  ‘Josephs would have me killed.’ A paus
e. ‘And I want to survive.’

  The thing that called itself Bill Adlar walked to the desk and curled scaly fingers around the computer mouse. Adam strained with all his strength to break free. But it wasn’t enough. He realized with hard, terrifying clarity that this was the end – no last minute rescue, no friend to save him.

  ‘Forgive me,’ came his father’s whisper.

  Adam heard the click of the mouse – and then a digital express train hurtled into his head. The slam of sound and images broke his mind like bone, and then—

  Chapter 17: Looking at You

  WHERE AM I now? Adam woke sharply and flinched from the bright light. He wasn’t strapped to a couch; he was lying on a kind of hospital trolley. The room was small, bare and painted white. A cracked striplight buzzed above him, and there was a door either side of the bed. He realized he was wearing thermal gear; proper warm clothes, clean and dark, like the ones the Geneflow personnel had worn. His phone was in his pocket. Hopes rising he fished it out, but the battery had died. He sat up. New boots, too, thick and insulated. Like he was due to go outside. Why was that? He couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t remember what had just—

  Zoe.

  Adam sat bolt upright and scrambled off the trolley. Dizziness overwhelmed him and he leaned heavily against the wall. He saw a clock opposite and struggled blearily to make sense of the figures. I’ve got to get her out. Got to . . .

  It was coming up to five o’clock in the morning. I’ve been asleep for thirteen hours. By now, Zoe and Keera will be . . .

  Closing his eyes, Adam tried not to picture what must surely have happened hours ago. He waited for tears to build, for some release to come. But there was something blocking his ordinary thoughts, a memory that sat awkwardly in his mind.

  A memory of that hateful reptilian face.

  ‘You were right about me, Ad.’ His father’s voice, devoid of all emotion, played over the image, tinnily in his head like an answerphone message. ‘I started the process, but . . . I couldn’t go through with it. So, I’ve uploaded just the basic audio-visual files, but without the mental conditioning to make you believe they’re real.’