by Isobel Hart
“He’s told me how you won’t leave him alone,” she said, not letting the subject go. My irritation rose a notch as she pushed into my space; “We’re incredibly happy together. He’s said he wants to marry me. We’re trying for a baby.” She looked smug as she patted her lower abdomen.
I froze, standing upright as I stared at her, my hands forgotten as her words took a few moments to sink in. Fear sliced through my chest. Everything she’d said mirrored exactly what he’d said to me. I started making connections that terrified me. I walked backwards towards the door, my hands still slimy from the soap.
“You need to be careful, Serena. He’s not what he seems. Before you do that with him, just . . . be careful,” I said, reaching for the door, my hand slipping off the smooth metal handle.
“He said you’d try and scare me off,” she crowed, as if I’d somehow confirmed something to her. “He said you were mental.”
“I’m not mental,” I argued somewhat pointlessly. “He’s dangerous. You have to believe me. Don’t have a baby with him–”
“You’re evil!” Her eyes narrowed as she hissed. “You’re trying to destroy what we’ve got any way you can.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’ve only been with the man a few days. You’re fucking, that’s all. Know what? If you’re that keen, go for it. Frankly you deserve each other.” I found I no longer cared if Serena hooked up with zombie Edward. I pulled the door open and fled out into the restaurant, grabbing a napkin off one of the tables as I passed to wipe my hands.
Elliott stood beside our table, the meal receipt gripped in his hand, nose to nose with Edward. “I’m sure there’s some law about doctors running off with their patients’ wives,” Edward said as I approached. He looked furious, his fists clenching and unclenching.
“That’s doctors not being allowed relationships with their patients. And she’s not your wife. She’s the woman who dumped you,” Elliott replied, his voice deceptively calm. The waiter stood anxiously to the side of the two men, his eyes darting between them, sensing an imminent fight.
“Elliott, let’s go,” I said, as I grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the door of the restaurant. The waiter smiled at me gratefully.
Edward watched us leave, a scowl on his face. “See you soon, Samantha,” he called. Elliott tensed, prepared to turn and argue.
“Come on, we have to leave,” I said in an urgent whisper. “I just worked out what the link is.”
Chapter 21
The fight seeped out of Elliott as soon as I said I knew what the link was. Instead, we hurried back towards the car park and our respective cars. Frustrated to have to wait to talk to him, now that I’d made the connection, I couldn’t get home fast enough.
Edward stepped out the restaurant behind us, without Serena, but remained in the shadows watching. From the glow of the mobile phone pressed to his ear he was speaking to someone. I shivered.
“I’ll see you back at the apartment,” Elliott said, kissing me before he opened my car door. He waited for me to start the engine and pull slowly away before he moved off and got into his own vehicle.
I put my foot down. It seemed important I speak to someone about what I’d figured out soon – before anything happened to me. I parallel parked with unusual efficiency, slipped out of the car, locked it and fumbled inside my bag for the front door key Elliott had given me. A figure stepped out of the shadows. I screamed and took a step back, clasping the keys like a weapon between my fingers as I prepared to stab any would-be attacker.
“Sam, shut up, it’s me, Malcolm,” Malcolm hissed, stepping into the halo of the streetlight so I could see him properly. “Stop screaming.”
“Fucking hell, Malcolm. You nearly made me wet myself.”
“Where’s Elliott?”
“Just coming. We had both our cars at the restaurant tonight. He came straight from work. Come on, I’ve got a key, I’ll let you in.” I walked towards the front door, feeling jumpy, wanting to get out of the open. Headlights appeared in the street behind us. I hoped it was Elliott, but didn’t want to hang around just in case it wasn’t.
Trembling a little, I opened the front door, flicking on the lights before we stepped into Elliott’s apartment. I hesitated, waiting for the tell-tale sound of Elliott’s key in the street door. When I heard it, I relaxed a little and led Malcolm into the lounge. “Tea?” I offered, knowing it was his tipple of choice.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
“Sam?” Elliott called as soon as he walked into the hallway.
“In here, with Malcolm,” I called back from the lounge, hugely relieved we were all home.
“Alright, Malcolm?” Elliott nodded at his friend, heading straight for me. “Jesus, Sam, that was a hell of a first date,” he said with a laugh as he bent to kiss me. “So, tell me,” he dropped down onto the chair beside me, “what have you worked out?” He looked over at Malcolm, on the sofa opposite. “Sam says she’s worked out some sort of a connection,” he explained.
Malcolm looked at me expectantly, as they both waited for me to explain.
“It was something Serena said when we were in the ladies together,” I began, trying to hide the happy smile that wanted to curl the corners of my mouth as soon as Elliott draped his arm around the back of the chair, brushing against the tops of my shoulders. “She mentioned they’d been trying for a baby – she and Edward, I mean. At first I just thought “oh for God’s sake, already?” I mean, seriously, a baby? They’ve only been together five minutes. But then I thought about it. It was all so reminiscent of everything he said to me after he’d recovered from the accident – a complete contrast to the man he used to be – it got me thinking. I think it’s possible they need to reproduce themselves to survive. The virus only affects males, so they need us – women that is – to reproduce, so they can spread the virus, or DNA of whatever they are, to create new organisms. That’s why they’re all under sixty – or whatever age it was – it’s prime reproducing age.” I paused, breathless from rushing out my explanation. It sounded a bit mad now I said it out loud. “What do you think?”
Elliott and Malcolm were both still. I began to wonder if they’d actually heard me when Elliott finally said, “Fucking hell, I think you’re right. It makes perfect sense. It explains so much: the age affected, their behaviour. If they reproduce, the adapted DNA will be passed to the offspring – at the moment they only have males, and that means they can’t reproduce by themselves. They need women. Once they have mixed females, presumably they’ll become self-sustaining. They’re genetically wiping us out – at least they will eventually. We’ve been invaded.”
Elliott and I pulled apart and looked at each other.
“I’m scared,” I said. “This is so big. We can’t leave it just between us any longer. It’s past time to talk to some other people. People that can act to stop this.”
“I agree,” Elliott said quickly. “Malcolm, we need to get that report out. We need to send it tonight – we can’t sit on this any longer.” We turned and looked at him.
“Ah, well, that might be a problem.” Malcolm shifted on his chair.
“Haven’t you finished it?” Elliott said, not trying to hide his frustration.
“I don’t have it.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have it?”
“It’s gone.”
“For God’s sake, man, speak sense. Where has it gone? Have you sent it already? Where’s all the data?” Elliott quizzed him, whilst I looked at Malcolm more closely. Then I saw it. He was different. I looked at him again and recognised the marks on his neck, bruising showing above the collar of his shirt. “Jesus, Malcolm, what’s going on?” Elliott said, oblivious to the differences staring him in the face.
“It’s not him,” I said, releasing my breath.
“What do you mean it’s not him? I’m looking at him for fuck’s sake.”
“I mean it’s not our Malcolm anymore, it’s one of them. Look at his neck.” The more I
looked, the more I saw the bruising – like mine – from someone wrapping their hands around his neck.
Malcolm, or the thing that looked like Malcolm, tilted his head and looked at me. “Edward said you were clever. Bravo on making the connections. Trouble is you’re becoming a bit of a nuisance, both of you.”
“What have you done with the data?” Elliott said. I could tell it was already futile.
“Destroyed it all.”
“Why?”
“You were too close, too soon.”
“We’ll get it all again,” I said. “It will be easy to replace.”
“By that time it’ll be too late. We’ll be established. You were a bit too quick off the mark. You needed to be stopped.”
“So one of your kind killed Malcolm?” Elliott said, staring at the man’s neck. “Someone strangled him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Strangling is relatively easy for us to recover from. The body is functional again almost immediately. He needed to be stopped, and an additional swift activation was a bonus.”
“I’ve seen others like him! One of Edward’s friends. It was like his personality changed overnight. He had marks on his neck too, I just didn’t make the connection before. They must have killed him and then he activated too. They’re killing people, Elliott.” Fear sent ice racing through my body.
“Get out!” Elliott said to Malcolm, moving to stand in front of me. “I want you out of here now.” His fists clenched at his sides.
“I’m going,” Malcolm agreed too easily, appearing more sinister as a result. “I just wanted to let you know that there is no report. There is no data. There is nothing to prove what you think you know, and, even if you try to tell anyone, we’re already everywhere.” Malcolm stood, pausing at the door. “You know, you should be quite proud of yourselves. You caught on quickly, all things considered. At the rate you reproduce, you presented quite a risk to us for a while. Fortunately, the majority of your kind are physically weak and entirely too trusting. Elliott, we want you to become one of us. We think you’ll be a popular addition to our numbers.” Then he turned to look at me. “And as for you, Sam, we want you too, but not for quite the same reason.” He laughed. There was none of Malcolm’s geeky innocence in the look he gave me. He left me feeling dirty.
“Get the fuck out of here, now!” Elliott brandished a pair of scissors he must have found in one of the drawers on the coffee table, holding them aloft like a weapon. He dwarfed Malcolm’s small frame, but I sensed his fear.
“I’m leaving, but we’ll be seeing you soon, Elliott,” Malcolm promised.
We stood in stunned silence until the front door closed. Then Elliott hurried out into the hallway. I heard him checking all the rooms, before he slid the deadbolt on the front door into place. Despite his efforts, fear still pumped through my body. The reality of what we faced hit me in a wave and my legs gave way. I collapsed heavily onto the chair, my breaths coming fast and ragged as my vision clouded, darkness threatening.
I became aware of Elliott beside me. “Breathe slowly, Sam. You’re having a panic attack. Take slow deep breaths.” He pushed my head between my knees, wiping the back of my neck with a cool flannel until I recovered enough to stand. He lifted me, hugging me against his chest, as he carried me into the bedroom.
“We’re too late, aren’t we?” I moaned. “They’ve won, and people don’t even know it.”
“Not yet they haven’t.” Elliott insisted. “We might not have the data, but we can still email what we know. Other people can look into it. They can’t hide for much longer. It’s already being noticed by medical professionals. The data is there if people know where to look for it.”
“We need to do it soon . . . tonight.” I couldn’t say out loud what I really thought, I couldn’t say that we needed to do it tonight because I knew there was a significant danger they’d get to him too. Then who would believe me? “Women,” I said. “You need to tell women. They aren’t affected by the virus. We can trust them. We don’t know which men are affected. You might be talking to one of them even if they’re pretending to be one of us.” Thoughts tumbled out of me.
“Sam, I won’t let them get me, and I’ll look after you. Not one of them is going to touch you, I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.” I smiled, but couldn’t shake my sorrow. “One already has. And what about all the other women? What about all the babies they’re making in them as we speak. How do we stop that?”
“There are ways,” he insisted. “But not you. They can’t have you. Not while I can stop them.” He pulled me tighter against his chest, and I let him. I needed the comfort. I needed to forget for a while. My mouth sought his, needing to be closer to him. Legs entwined, we kissed, and the slow-burning attraction I always experienced in his presence ignited.
He sensed it too. His mouth grew more possessive as he unpeeled the skirt and shirt that I’d put on for him, what felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, little of it good. He was the one good thing in any of this, and I had no idea how long it would last, given what Malcolm had said earlier. My desperation to forget bled into my touch.
“No, Sam.” Elliott broke away from me, stilling. “There’s no hurry. I won’t let them spoil this for us too.”
He reached out and touched me gently, taking his time, stroking my hair, his fingers trailing down the side of my face, to my jaw, tracing my features with reverence. His eyes a deeper shade of blue, filled with love.
“That was beautiful,” I told him afterwards, my body still humming with satisfaction.
“It was,” he agreed. “Like you.” He slipped off the condom, then pulled me close.
“The emails . . . we need to send them . . .” I said, as my need for sleep warred with my earlier anxiety.
“We will, in the morning. Tonight is ours. Nothing’ll happen before then. Sleep.” He kissed me on the forehead. I relaxed back against him, my head upon his chest, our breathing slowing until sleep came.
***
Pounding on the front door woke me. I sat bolt upright, terrified. “Elliott!” I cried out in alarm. He was already up and out of the bed, pulling on his trousers, hopping on one leg and then the other in his rush.
“Stay there,” he said, before running out the room. I pulled the duvet around my neck, shivering as the cool morning air brushed over my exposed skin. Elliott called, “Who’s there?” through the front door. The response was muffled, but the sound of him drawing back the deadbolt was unmistakeable. I looked around the room for some clothes to put on, but only found my skirt and blouse from yesterday. The rest of my stuff was still in the spare room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Elliott shouted. “You can’t just barge in there.”
The door to the bedroom burst open, and three police officers stormed in. “Samantha Davis?” one of them said, looking down at me. Young and thickset, he had the appearance of someone who lived for these sorts of moments. His gaze raked over me, making me feel more vulnerable given my nakedness.
“Yes?”
“Samantha Davis, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the attempted murder of Edward Patterson. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” He paused to cuff one wrist as I stared up at him open-mouthed.
“Get your hands off her!” Elliott shouted. “She’s naked, for God’s sake. She’s not resisting arrest. At least let her put some bloody clothes on.”
“I haven’t . . .” I paused as I thought about hitting Edward with the elephant. “I didn’t . . .”
“Say nothing, Sam,” Elliott said. “I’ll find you a lawyer. Just say nothing until they arrive. Fuck!” He ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’ll get you some clothes,” he said, looking to one of the other officers for permission. The officer in question nodded, and Elliott sprinted out the r
oom, returning moments later with a pair of my yoga pants, clean knickers, a bra and an old sweatshirt. At least I’d be comfortable, I figured, as I hurried to dress. A female officer stayed in the room with me while I pulled my clothes on. Outside in the hallway, Elliott continued to argue about my innocence.
“Can I brush my teeth?” I asked the woman officer.
“No, I’m sorry, ma’am, we need to get you down to the station as soon as possible.”
I shrugged the sweatshirt over my head and allowed her to fasten the other cuff, my hands now secured behind my back, slipping on a pair of flip-flops before she led me out the room. With one hand placed upon my shoulder, she steered me down the hallway, out through the door and down the front steps.
The scene in the street was mayhem. Police cars blocked the road as bleary-eyed neighbours wandered out of their houses in dressing gowns to find out what all the fuss was about. Several phones lifted in my direction as I emerged, capturing the moment of my humiliation for the YouTube generation. It seemed like overkill, considering this was me we were talking about.
The female officer led me towards a car, a second officer opening the rear door as we approached, gently pressing my shoulder down to encourage me into the back seat. I glanced back towards the house where Elliott stood, frozen on the doorstep. “The emails,” I shouted out to him. “You need to send them. Now,” I insisted. He nodded to indicate he’d heard, as I bent my body, allowing them to push me inside the car, before they slammed the door closed. There was, of course, no mechanism to open it from the inside.
***
Two hours later, I had been secured within a holding cell and was passing the time by counting ceiling tiles as I waited for their questioning to begin. At least that’s what they’d told me would happen next. I’d been formally arrested on arrival, although I still didn’t know what Edward’s claims were against me. I’d seen no sight nor sound of the promised lawyer Elliott told me he’d call. The small room I was being held in was windowless, the smell of human misery permeating everything. I curled into a ball and lay there hoping for a miracle.
