The waiting was unbearable, every second was a second to imagine the pain that I was going to feel, morbidly fantasising about what it felt like to be bitten so hard that your flesh tore. I kicked my legs as my body tried to rebel, to force a survival instinct to the surface, except what remained of Marcus, my Id, was now under my control. I knew what had to be done.
I did however relent a little, allowing myself to remember some of the people who still lived, the varied souls that I had travelled with, the last shred of society...
Arthur, that poor man who had lost everything, was already starting to heal. It was the wonder of humanity, always finding the strength to carry on, to keep fighting. It was a trait worth preserving. I was sure he would look after Juliet, at least until old age took him. Hopefully she would have learned enough to carry on without him when that happened. Perhaps she could look to Eliza.
Yes, Eliza. She was strong and forthright and if anyone would survive in this new world it was her. Her intelligence and unerring sense of justice would keep the others on the straight and narrow, if only they didn’t hold her back. I hoped she would find somewhere safe to fortify and call a home or at the very least a source of petrol for the onward journey. If she could find some help, if Ciaran could support her... I hoped that he would strive to be better than his past, forgiving himself as much as seeking forgiveness, allowing himself to heal and help his new family. For that was what they were, a family, with all the infighting, squabbles and disagreements that went with it, yet the bond of their continued life should keep them together. Part of me deeply wished I could have been part of it... but after all that I had done in here, I deserved to die.
Something in that thought brought back another memory, as I saw myself holding Ciaran down, discussing the value of his own life, before defending his right to live against Eliza. We had been the judges on that day, working for the remnant of humanity, our decisions carrying a huge weight. I could see in Ciaran’s eyes that he had indeed feared death, although part of him had thought he deserved that fate. Yet we had let him live, understanding what he had done and using it as a force for a new direction.
This was a world where forgiveness was a necessity for continued survival. I had said those words. Using judgement, it carried weight in both our situations. If I was to truly judge, I had to look at both sides. I had to hear my own defence...
Who else could heal the sick, using all of those pharmaceuticals we had scavenged from the town? I hadn’t saved Dorothy but I could have and I would have, given the chance. It hadn’t been Marcus, it had been me who had stopped the murdering thugs in the police station. I was strong and I was quick, two things that were needed to survive. I knew where there was fuel and I could pluck it from the carcass of the hatchback and bring it to them, a way of starting to heal the divide whilst I earned their trust again. They needed me. Which would be the best use of my skills, to die here in the mouths of the dead and leave them to fend for themselves or to stand with them and keep them alive long enough to see this out? As this thought struck me, I remembered a half forgotten moment from before and as I put my hand into my trouser pocket I found that I still had Isaac’s photograph. I shone the torch on the strong features, looking at the eyes of a man who had taken his own life through guilt. His death had solved no problems, healed no hurts, and he had even returned from the dead to cause further injury to the world. He would have probably killed Eliza if I hadn’t been there... if I hadn’t been there...
All of these points were strong and they were valid, but they were not enough in the face of what I had created. There was only one more fact that could justify my existence. I desired with all my soul to be able to die and let it all fall away, but there it was, like a thumbnail in a wound. It was undeniable, even though I wished it didn’t exist.
I alone knew how the plague had begun.
It was true that I had not been the highest paid or most well regarded doctor, but my medical knowledge was almost second to none. I was the only one that knew the chemical make-up of the plague, and if fortune was good I might be able to find a way to create an immunisation one day. If I died here, it died with me. I might be the only one who could save the human race.
It was a truth, I couldn’t deny it. My dying would be of no benefit to anyone or anything, except to relieve my own guilt.
I breathed in deeply, as I heard the moaning getting closer. I had very little time. I stood up as quickly as I could, pushing through the pain of my aching body before casting my torch around for some sort of weapon I could use. The light fell upon the autopsy hammer. It would have to do. I gave it a couple of experimental swings and something told me that it would be good enough, that I would be good enough. Now that I had decided to leave, to carry on... I would. The decision was all that was needed.
There was more here...
My memory filled with details of the past, a welcome ability that I had lost for so long. I scrambled over to the cupboard that I had retreated to in fear all those weeks ago, tearing it open and rummaging through it’s contents until I found my old doctors coat. I picked it up and searched through the pockets, pulling out the few vials of experimental drugs I had been using, along with what remained of my supply of the rabies virus, before tucking them away in the pockets of the stab vest. As an afterthought I pulled my old badge off the coat and slipped it into my pocket next to Isaac’s photograph. I would try to earn the title of doctor once more.
A low rasping moan made me turn. As I shone the light I saw the well rotted forms of Lucas and Jack lumbering towards me, their bodies showing signs of impact and possible broken bones. They had most likely fallen down the stairs in their hunger to reach me. There was little left of them, many muscles having been torn out in the initial fight with my father. They were pitiable things and it was time to end their mockery of a life. As I gritted my teeth and swung the hammer my mind became clear, calm and collected. I thought it was sadly fitting, the remains of my old life being dispatched so my life could begin anew, as Jack’s skull caved inwards in a spray of matter.
I would carry the weight of what I had done and use it to build a new future. They would survive. We would survive. I would never be able to truly make amends but I would never stop trying.
Epilogue
Celia Perrin staggered, bloody and bruised but alive and uninfected through the gates of the Elucido Institute, never to return.
In time the building would be gone, yet her legacy would remain, the creator and the destroyer, the sinner and the saint.
Recovery or death... she had made her choice. The sky wept, raindrops washing the blood from her feet with every step she took.
Table of Contents
1 - There Were Three
2 - A Home Away From Home
3 - Blood
4 - Fight Or Flight
5 - Building
6 - Drive
7 - Bargaining Tool
8 - Purgatory
9 - The Night
10 - The Day
11 - Consume
12 - Remembrance
13 - Recovery Or Death
Epilogue
Heal the Sick, Raise the Dead Page 24
