by Mark Morris
‘What’s going on?’ Sam mumbled and Kevin glanced across at him.
‘Oh, welcome back,’ he said. ‘Enjoy your little nap?’
Sam ignored him, looking around to take in his surroundings. He was relieved to see his friends were all here, and apparently OK – aside from the fact that, like him, they had been manacled to chairs and had had their backpacks and weapons taken away.
Of the others, Purna and Xian Mei were the only ones who were conscious. Logan, Jin and Yerema were still slumped forward, eyes closed, breathing heavily.
Xian Mei looked ill, her skin clammy, her face and body tense as if the slightest movement caused her pain. The thick bandage around her arm was stained red where blood had seeped through from the wound beneath.
‘You OK?’ Sam asked her.
She licked her lips and gave a tiny unconvincing nod.
In contrast to Xian Mei, Purna looked fighting fit, her dark eyes blazing with anger.
‘What do you hope to gain from this, Kevin?’ she said, making his name sound like an insult.
‘Oh, I’ve already gained it,’ he said.
She scowled. ‘What are you talking about?’
Smiling and slipping the vial into his pocket, he said, ‘Let me tell you a little story.’
‘Oh, is this the bit where the bad guy gloats about how clever he’s been and the good guys get bored?’ Sam said.
Kevin looked for a moment as if he was contemplating whether to punch Sam in the face, and then he snorted a laugh and settled himself more comfortably against the desk, folding his arms.
‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘It’s more the bit where the little unimportant people discover how the world really works, and how they can do absolutely nothing about it.’
‘That sounds even more boring,’ Sam muttered.
‘So tell us,’ said Purna with weary contempt, ‘how does the world work? In your estimation?’
Kevin smirked. ‘Why do you think you’re really here on Banoi?’
‘Because we’re immune,’ said Purna. ‘Because we were brought here to be manipulated, to be used as guinea pigs.’
Kevin nodded. ‘And why are you here now? In the prison, I mean?’
‘’Cos this guy, Ryder White, said he’d get us off the island if we brought him the vaccine,’ said Sam.
Clearly amused, Kevin raised a hand and waggled it from side to side. ‘Well … that’s partly right,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid that’s not the full story.’
‘All right,’ Purna conceded, ‘so why don’t you tell us the full story? I can see you’re dying for the opportunity to let us know how clever you’ve been. Why don’t you start by telling us who you really are, because you sure as hell aren’t a regular prisoner?’
Kevin pursed his lips, as though inwardly debating how much to reveal. Eventually he said, ‘My name is Charon. I’m a sleeper agent for the Organization—’
‘The Organization?’ Purna interrupted mockingly. ‘Ooh, how mysterious.’
The man now called Charon shrugged, unmoved by the taunt. ‘It doesn’t have a name because it doesn’t officially exist. It’s a secret association of the world’s wealthiest individuals, who make their money by exploiting certain financial opportunities that arise in areas of global conflict.’
‘So they’re like vultures?’ asked Sam. ‘Feeding on the misery and destruction of innocent people?’
Charon sneered. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘Oh, we understand more than you think,’ Purna’s voice dripped contempt. ‘I know how people like that operate, and they’re not opportunists. They might have been once, but when your financial profile achieves a certain level, you no longer passively sit around, waiting for something to happen. You make things happen. You stoke the fires. And if misery and chaos is big business, then you make damn sure you’re the one creating it.’
‘So they start wars?’ asked Sam. ‘And they created this virus to use as a weapon they can sell to the highest bidder?’
‘Of course they did.’ Purna shot Charon a contemptuous look. ‘Isn’t that right?’
Charon inclined his head. ‘Partly. But the Organization didn’t create the virus. The virus was already here, on Banoi. The Organization invests a huge amount of money in research and development. They probe every branch of science looking for potential new weapons, and they have eyes and ears everywhere.’
‘And they heard about the virus?’ said Sam.
Kevin nodded. ‘The first of the infected to come back from the dead were taken off the island and tested.’
‘Yerema’s rapists,’ said Purna, glancing at the girl.
‘Precisely,’ replied Kevin. ‘And tests showed that in all three of them the virus – Pathogen K – could not be isolated because it was constantly mutating. And so in order to create a usable biological weapon, a stable form of Pathogen K had to be found so that a vaccine could be developed.’
‘Because without a vaccine the virus would be useless as a biological weapon,’ said Purna.
‘Which is where you guys came in,’ said Charon, spreading his hands expansively. ‘It was discovered that, despite the aggressive nature and constantly mutating state of the virus, a tiny percentage of people were completely immune. The Organization therefore used its resources to scan blood records the world over. They even created a multi-national blood drive event under a variety of banners and initiatives to cast their net still further. Ultimately you four were selected from millions of potential subjects. It was discovered that you possessed the most vigorously resistant immune systems, strong enough to withstand close proximity engagement with the infection. Plus you fitted the required demographic survival profile.’
‘You mean we were young and fit and we wouldn’t get sick,’ said Sam.
‘Precisely.’
‘So you dropped us into the middle of all this shit just so we’d get the original stable form of the virus for you?’
‘Dropping a trail of crumbs for you to follow along the way, yes,’ replied Charon smugly.
‘I assume West was in on this?’ asked Purna.
Charon smirked. ‘Mowen too. Such a shame about poor Dr West, though he served his purpose. I’m sure the vaccine he developed, combined with his notes – which you were thoughtful enough to bring along with you – will prove invaluable.’
‘So all that shit about Ryder White’s wife—’ said Sam.
‘Oh, that’s all true,’ said Charon, still smirking. ‘It’s always more convincing if you conceal a few droplets of truth in an ocean of subterfuge.’
Sam frowned. ‘So this Ryder White guy works for the Organization too?’
‘No.’
Sam stared at Charon for a long moment and then shook his head. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘I think I do,’ said Purna. Narrowing her eyes, she said, ‘It wasn’t Ryder White who contacted us, was it? It was you.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ said Charon, holding up his hands.
‘So Ryder White don’t know squat about us?’ asked Sam.
‘Oh, he knows there are operatives on Banoi, trying to locate a stable form of the virus in order to develop a vaccine that he hopes will save his wife. If he hadn’t been furnished with that information, the island would have been destroyed and all our hard work would have been for nothing.’
‘All your hard work?’ yelled Sam. ‘You make it sound like this fucking virus is some kind of achievement.’
‘And so it is,’ said Charon. ‘The ultimate biological weapon, for which potential buyers will be willing to pay untold sums of money?’ He laughed. ‘What’s not to like?’
Sam looked as if he was about to explode, but before he could say anything, Purna glanced at him quickly. ‘Hang on, Sam.’ Turning back to Charon, she said, ‘What do you mean, if White hadn’t known we were looking for a vaccine, the island would have been destroyed? Destroyed by who?’
Charon sighed, as if her lack of understanding was becoming ti
resome. ‘After analysing the virus, scientists working for the Organization were able to predict that once the plague was introduced into the general population, it would spread quickly. Exactly how quickly they weren’t sure – and in the event it achieved pandemic proportions far more rapidly than anyone had anticipated – but they at least knew that the potential was there, and so were able to instigate various precautionary measures.’
‘Such as?’
‘It’s not a widely known fact, for obvious reasons, but for some time now western governments have been running scared of the possibility of terrorist groups developing biological and chemical weapons so devastating that, if unleashed, they would decimate the populations of entire countries. In order to counter act this, certain measures have been agreed upon, measures that would be met with widespread horror and condemnation if their existence were made public. Suffice to say that a pandemic with no fore seeable cure – such as the one currently rampant on Banoi – would ordinarily trigger the execution of security protocols, resulting in the nuclear cleansing of the infected area.’
‘Nuclear cleansing?’ sneered Sam. ‘You mean they’d blow the fucking place sky high? Murder thousands of innocent people?’
‘In order to protect the majority, yes,’ said Charon. ‘But I’m only the messenger boy, not the instigator here – so let’s not get bogged down quibbling about the moral issues.’
‘You said “ordinarily”,’ said Purna, ‘which I’m guessing means that because of these “precautionary measures” you mentioned, what was supposed to happen hasn’t happened in this case?’
Charon nodded.
Purna looked as though she was about to ask him another question, then her eyes widened. ‘Oh my God.’
‘What?’ asked Sam.
Looking intently at Charon, Purna said, ‘Let me take a wild guess: Ryder White would be the man in charge of ordering the nuclear strike on Banoi, right?’
Charon’s smile was confirmation enough.
‘Don’t you see?’ said Purna to a stillbemused Sam. ‘The reason Banoi hasn’t been wiped off the face of the earth is because Ryder White’s wife is sick, and he’s delayed the order because he thinks the cure might be on the island. But the question is, why did she get sick in the first place?’
Sam felt like the kid in class who doesn’t get what everyone else seems able to grasp – and then all at once he did get it. ‘Because they made her sick,’ he said, nodding at Charon.
‘Exactly.’
Sam shook his head in disbelief. ‘Bastards.’
‘Oh, please,’ said Charon wearily, ‘less of the bleeding heart bullshit. It was purely a practical decision. The Organization simply needed a way to buy some time. It was discovered that Ryder White’s wife was the physician here, so the infection was planted in the prison. As the doctor treating the sick prisoners it was inevitable she would contract the virus sooner rather than later – and hence the nuclear threat, luckily for you, was allayed.’
‘So where are White and his wife now?’ asked Purna.
‘In the sick bay, waiting for news that you’ve arrived with the vaccine. As soon as your friends wake up, I’ll give him a call, whereupon he will radio for a helicopter to take us all far, far away from here.’
‘And what happens then?’ said Purna. ‘What happens to us?’
Charon patted his pocket. ‘You’re my insurance,’ he said, ‘in case the vaccine doesn’t work.’
Insurance. Purna was growing to hate that word. The men in the police station had kept Jin as ‘insurance’. ‘And if it does work?’ she said.
‘You’ll still be assets,’ Charon replied. ‘Once news of the virus gets out, I’m sure there will be plenty of factions desperate for immunity.’
‘So what you saying?’ said Sam. ‘That you’ll sell us like cattle to the highest bidder?’
‘Maybe. But don’t worry, I’ll see that you go to a good home.’
‘I thought you worked for the Organization?’
‘That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for a little free enterprise.’
Purna gave him a disgusted look. ‘You’re nothing but a chancer, are you, Kevin or Charon or whatever your name is?’
‘I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur,’ Charon said.
‘Dealing in human lives?’ asked Purna.
‘Why not?’ Charon replied. ‘Is there a product more precious?’
Before anyone could answer, there was a groan and Yerema leaned back in her seat, screwing up her eyes in an attempt to open them.
‘Ah, and here’s Patient Zero,’ he said, ‘the most precious asset of all.’
Suddenly, briskly, he strode across to the line of chairs on which they sat and shook first Logan and then Jin roughly by the shoulder.
‘Wake up,’ he barked. ‘It’s time to go.’
Chapter 24
ÜBER ZOMBIE
‘YOU MUST BE the people who brought the vaccine.’
Strong-jawed and broad-shouldered, Colonel Ryder White looked every inch the capable and efficient army man. Even standing beneath the blazing sun, and despite his straitened circumstances, his green army fatigues were immaculate – every button fastened, trousers tucked neatly into the tops of his gleaming, tightly-laced army boots, red beret folded precisely beneath the epaulette on his left shoulder.
His wife’s demeanour, however, could not have provided more of a contrast. Strapped to a gurney with thick leather constraints, the clearly once slim and pretty blonde woman in the beautifully-tailored white suit was a snarling spitting harridan. Her eyes had already taken on the familiar milky glaze of the terminally infected and her skin was grey and discoloured. Even her suit looked grubby and dishevelled, as if she had been scrabbling around in the dirt, or as if the corruption of her body was seeping through her clothes.
One look was enough for Sam to tell there was no way back for her. If White believed that some miracle vaccine was going to restore his wife to life and health, then he was sorely deluded.
‘That’s us,’ said Logan in response to White’s question.
‘Why are you handcuffed?’
‘You better ask him,’ said Sam, jerking his head towards Charon, who was at the rear of the group, herding them across the wide expanse of the tower roof with the aid of what had previously been Yerema’s handgun.
‘Despite the successful conclusion to what you no doubt perceive as a heroic mission, Colonel, these people are ruthless mercenaries and should be treated with the utmost caution,’ Charon said.
Purna barked a laugh. ‘That’s a prime example of the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard one.’
Despite asking the question, White seemed uninterested in either Charon’s explanation or Purna’s response. Looking at Charon with barely concealed desperation, he demanded, ‘Where is the vaccine now?’
Charon patted the pocket of his overalls. ‘Don’t worry, Colonel. I have it here, safe and sound.’
‘Show it to me.’
‘I don’t think that’s really nece—’
‘Show it to me,’ the Colonel insisted, employing what Sam guessed was his parade-ground bark, a tone that invited no argument. ‘I need to know it exists, that there’s still a chance …’
His voice choked off, and Sam realized how raw the Colonel’s emotions were, how hard he was fighting to hold himself together. Walking forward a few paces, Charon sighed and reached into his pocket, producing the stoppered vial of yellowish liquid.
‘There you are,’ he said, as if speaking to a spoiled child. ‘Happy now?’
White produced a Beretta M9 from his holster and pointed it at Charon. ‘Hand it over.’
Sam glanced at Charon, who was now standing to his right. The Organization agent rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Colonel, put that away. You’re embarrassing yourself.’
‘Give it to me.’
‘Why?’ asked Charon. ‘So you can feed it to your wife like medicine? Don’t be ridiculous. It has to be fully
tested and an antidote manufactured. That’s going to take time.’
‘We don’t have time,’ White insisted, and he seemed twitchy now, agitated. Beads of sweat stood out on his broad forehead. ‘My wife’s sick, can’t you see that?’
‘Your wife’s dead, Colonel,’ Purna piped up. She jerked her head towards Charon. ‘And he killed her.’
‘Dead?’ White shook his head angrily. ‘No … no, she’s very ill. But she’s going to be fine.’
Charon laughed. ‘Of course she is, Colonel. Don’t listen to this woman. She’s just trying to drive a wedge between us.’
‘It’s true, Colonel,’ Purna called across the gap between them. ‘This man – Charon or Kevin or whatever he calls himself – introduced the virus into the hospital, knowing that your wife would contract it. He did it to delay your order to destroy the island if the infection achieved pandemic proportions – which, of course, it quickly did.’
Charon laughed even harder. ‘I’ve never heard such nonsense.’
‘It’s all true,’ Logan called. ‘He told us so himself. We all heard it, right everyone?’
They all nodded.
‘He’s been stringing you along, Colonel,’ Sam shouted. ‘Every step of the way. He and the people he works for want to use the virus as a weapon. They only wanted a vaccine so they could control it.’
White gaped at them, clearly not sure what to believe. Apparently unruffled, Charon said, ‘Of course they’re going to say that, Colonel. But we both know it’s not true, don’t we? It’s just a pathetic attempt to divide and conquer. But it’s not going to work, is it? We’re both stronger, more intelligent than that.’
‘Look at your wife, Colonel,’ Purna shouted. ‘Look at what Charon did to her.’
White looked down at his wife, bemused and indecisive, his capable and efficient demeanour of a few minutes before having crumbled completely. ‘You did this?’ he asked.
