by Sam Enthoven
‘For Christ’s sake,’ said Samantha loudly from behind them, ‘what difference does it make? We’re stuck here!’
‘Yeah,’ chipped in Lauren immediately, ‘why’ve you got to keep banging on about it?’
Jasmine rolled her eyes.
Ben was just about to try changing the subject, when:
‘Hey,’ said Jasmine, standing up suddenly. ‘Hey. Hey! Hey!’
‘What?’ said Ben.
‘Oh!’ said Jasmine, making a face. ‘Oh, that’s really funny, I don’t think. All right, who did it? Who? Own up now, or I’m going to get angry.’
‘What? What are you on about now?’ asked Samantha.
‘You!’ Jasmine snapped back, rounding on her. ‘Don’t pretend! This is something you and Lauren cooked up, isn’t it? Some stupid little game of yours. Well I’m telling you, it isn’t funny.’
‘Don’t,’ said Samantha, getting to her feet, ‘call me stupid.’
‘Uh, Jasmine?’ asked Ben. ‘What exactly is the problem?’
‘Can’t you see?’ Jasmine pointed at her improvised dissection table. The notice board still lay on the floor, where she’d put it. But: ‘One of the crawlers has gone!’
9:48 PM.
For a moment there was silence in the room. It was true. Of the three squashed crawlers that Jasmine had been examining, now only two remained.
‘But . . . where is it?’ asked Robert, in a voice that was dangerously quiet.
Ben noticed that Lisa too had suddenly drawn both her legs up off the floor, and had wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself.
‘It was dead . . .’ he said, looking at Jasmine. ‘Right?’
‘Of course it was dead,’ Jasmine snapped. ‘I mean,’ she added more kindly, ‘it was squashed, right? So someone must have taken it. And I bet I know who.’
‘Listen,’ said Samantha, ‘I’ve been sitting here all the time. So even if I wanted to, which I don’t, how could I have taken it without you noticing?’
‘You just waited until I wasn’t looking. Or if it wasn’t you, then it was your lapdog.’
‘What?’ said Lauren, realizing everyone’s attention was now on her. ‘No! What would I want with one of them things?’
‘Let me guess,’ scoffed Jasmine. ‘You’re going to dangle it in someone’s face, or something equally hilarious.’
‘I wouldn’t touch them.’ Lauren shuddered. ‘No way. They’re horrible!’
‘Look, there were three crawlers before,’ said Jasmine. ‘Now there are two. Someone in this room must have taken one.’
‘Or maybe,’ Samantha pointed out, ‘it went off by itself.’
There was a pause.
‘Well, OK,’ said Ben, getting up. ‘I guess we’d better search the room. Jasmine, maybe you’d better take the board and go stand over there by the sink. We don’t want the other two disappearing. The rest of you’ – he shrugged – ‘wherever you are now, that’s your corner. Search every bit of it as carefully as you can.’
Everyone did as he said, to Ben’s surprise. The room wasn’t big, and it had six people in it. Ben’s spot wasn’t much bigger than he was: he felt stupid checking under neighbouring chairs and groping around the carpet with his hands, and he felt sure he wasn’t the only one. But at that moment the door to the monitor room opened and Josh emerged. Everyone turned.
Josh looked noticeably paler than before, like he’d just had some kind of shock. He stared blankly at the expectant faces for a moment, then said: ‘What are you doing?’
‘One of the dead crawlers is missing,’ Ben explained dutifully.
‘What do you mean, missing?’
‘We’ve just searched the room,’ said Ben. He looked around. Everyone shook their heads. ‘No sign so far.’
Josh frowned. ‘Well it can’t have vanished into thin air. What do you think’s happened to it?’
‘Someone’s taken it,’ said Jasmine, from her spot by the sink.
‘Really?’ asked Josh. ‘What for?’
‘For a joke,’ said Jasmine. ‘Or—’ She stopped.
‘Or what?’ asked Josh.
‘Samantha thought it might have come back to life, or something,’ said Ben.
‘Good grief,’ said Josh. ‘Well . . . never mind that for now.’
Ben stared at him.
‘I’ve got news,’ he went on. ‘Just a few minutes ago two more police cars arrived at the main entrance.’
‘All right!’ said Lauren. ‘We’re saved!’
‘Erm,’ said Josh, ‘don’t get too excited just yet.’
‘Why not?’ asked Lauren.
‘What happened?’ asked Jasmine.
Josh hesitated, then said: ‘They . . . didn’t all get captured this time. That’s the main thing. One of the police was wounded—’
‘Wounded?’ Everyone was starting to react now. ‘What? How?’
‘But he managed to escape!’ said Josh, making ‘calm down’ gestures with his hands. ‘He got out before they could reach him, so he didn’t get bitten and you can bet he’ll be calling for backup right now. The secret’s out, people,’ he added with an enthusiasm that, to Ben, was belied by the sickly look on his face. ‘I’m sure more police will be along soon, together with the army and . . . and everybody. So until then, all we’ve got to do is stay here and wait.’
‘That’s what you said before,’ said a voice – Samantha’s. When Josh turned and saw the look she was giving him he faltered and, for once, was at a loss for a reply.
Jasmine took a step towards Josh. ‘Was it very bad?’ she asked quietly.
‘It was so . . . quick,’ Josh admitted. ‘The way the bitten people lured the police in and got them so easily. It . . . did rather take me by surprise. Yes.’
‘Do you and Hugo want to take a break from watching the cameras?’ Jasmine suggested.
‘Thank you,’ said Josh. ‘But—’
‘Ben and I could take a turn,’ said Jasmine quickly. ‘Couldn’t we, Ben?’
‘Er . . . sure,’ said Ben, surprised. ‘I mean, yes, definitely.’
‘It’s settled then.’
Before Josh could draw breath to protest Jasmine had already passed him and opened the door.
Hugo was sitting hunched in front of the screen. At the sound of the door he sniffed heavily before turning: his eyes were red and his face, like Josh’s, was pale. Whatever they’d just seen had obviously hit both boys hard.
‘We’ve come to give you some time off,’ said Jasmine, smiling sweetly.
Hugo blinked, dubious. ‘OK,’ he said finally. He sniffed again and looked hard at Ben. ‘But don’t touch anything.’
When the door had closed behind him, Jasmine sat down on the chair and leaned back. ‘Ben,’ she said, ‘we have to talk.’
10:02 PM.
‘What I’m about to tell you,’ said Jasmine, ‘has got to be a secret. OK? You’ll understand why as soon as you hear it, but first I’ve got to have your promise: this shouldn’t be shared with anyone – not even the guys from your school. I . . .’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t know how well you get on with them?’
‘Not particularly well,’ Ben admitted.
‘That’s what I figured,’ said Jasmine. She gave Ben a quick smile. ‘To be honest, I’m kind of the same way.’ The smile faded. ‘But I’m deadly serious: can you promise you won’t tell?’
Ben frowned. ‘Um, that kind of depends on what you’re going to tell me, doesn’t it?’
Jasmine blinked.
‘I mean, this is a mad situation we’re in,’ Ben explained. ‘I can’t go making promises that might turn out to be dangerous later on down the road, can I?’ He tried for a smile.
‘Well you’re right about one thing,’ said Jasmine, not smiling back. ‘This situation is definitely mad. But I reckon it might be even worse than you think.’ She paused and put her head on one side, giving Ben a critical look.
There was a moment of silence between them.
Ben wan
ted to say something to make himself sound more impressive. Under Jasmine’s gaze he found himself pushing his chest out a little and trying to make his expression as straight as possible.
‘OK,’ said Jasmine. ‘You seem like someone I can trust.’
‘You too!’ Ben was so pleased, he’d replied without thinking, and now he felt very embarrassed. What a stupid thing to say, he told himself.
‘I’m worried someone in our group might already have been bitten,’ said Jasmine bluntly – bringing Ben back to the present with a bump. She nodded past him at the door and the people beyond it. ‘Maybe the person who took the crawler did it because they want to use it on someone else, somehow – put them under control too.’ She paused. ‘I think we might have a traitor in the group.’
‘What?’ Ben stared at her, gobsmacked. ‘But . . . how?’
‘It must have happened in the foyer, before we all got in the lift. Maybe it helps explain why the adults stopped attacking so suddenly: they’ve got a spy in the room. They’re watching us.’
‘Wait!’ said Ben, putting his hands up. ‘Hold on a second!’
‘What?’ asked Jasmine.
Ben looked at her. He was impressed by how cool she was, the way she was analysing their situation in the middle of all this weirdness. He wanted to agree with her, he really did, but . . .
‘Everything that’s been happening definitely seems to be organized somehow,’ he began. ‘I’m with you that far, for sure. Those people outside, and the way they stopped attacking when the crawlers were coming through the vent . . .’ He pointed at the screen. ‘That was co-ordinated. That isn’t how zombies normally behave – or, um’ – he tried for a smile – ‘not in the films I’ve seen, anyhow. But what gives you the idea that someone in the group is a traitor?’
To Jasmine, Ben’s smile didn’t look friendly or self-deprecating. To Jasmine, Ben’s smile looked like he was patronizing her.
‘Fact one,’ she told him, ‘one of the crawlers is missing. Agreed?’
‘Sure,’ said Ben. ‘Of course.’
‘We searched the room. It’s a small room with no way in or out, and there are plenty of us to do the searching. But – fact two – we didn’t find it. Right?’
‘Yes,’ said Ben, ‘that’s true, but—’
‘It’s like Josh said,’ Jasmine interrupted (at the mention of the other boy’s name Ben’s smile fell). ‘The crawler couldn’t vanish into thin air. So there’s only one other possible explanation for why we couldn’t find it – right? Someone in the group didn’t want it to be found.’
‘Someone who’s already been bitten,’ said Ben. ‘Someone who’s being . . . controlled. That’s what you’re saying.’
Jasmine just looked at him.
‘But there’s just one problem with that, isn’t there?’ said Ben. ‘And I’m sorry’ – he grinned again – ‘but it’s a real stumbling block for me. Everyone else we’ve seen who’s been bitten has got one of these things on the back of their neck.’ He paused. ‘Now, if we’re talking about control, the back of the neck does kind of make sense. Something back there’ – he clapped a hand to the back of his own neck – ‘could mess around with the signals coming out of your brain – the spinal cord or whatever. But if you’re telling me that there’s someone in there’ – he pointed at the door to the other room – ‘who’s secretly working against us, who’s a traitor, but doesn’t have one of these things on the back of their neck – well, for one thing, where do you reckon they actually have it?’ He looked at her, still grinning.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jasmine. ‘It’s . . . somewhere else. Under their clothes somewhere, I guess.’ She was getting really infuriated now, not only at Ben and his grin (and she’d thought it was cute!) but at how weak what she was saying actually sounded.
Maybe she was wrong. Jasmine hated being wrong.
‘Maybe the crawlers don’t have to bite you on the neck,’ she said. ‘Maybe they can still control you from some other part of your body. How should I know?’
Ben kept grinning at her. Any second now she’s going to realize she’s sounding crazy, he thought. We’re going to have a laugh about this. Any second now.
Jasmine gave him a long look. ‘It’s easy to pick holes in other people’s ideas,’ she said, ‘when you don’t come up with any of your own.’
Ben blinked.
‘I didn’t ask you to believe me,’ Jasmine told him. ‘I just thought you’d appreciate some kind of warning. Watch who you’re with, that’s all I’m saying. You’re right: I don’t have any evidence. But I don’t see why that makes you feel you can stand there with that’ – she scowled – ‘that smug grin on your face!’
The grin had gone now. Ben’s mouth hung open.
‘I . . . I didn’t mean—’ he managed.
Jasmine raised a hand to interrupt him. ‘Excuse me, but – you know what? On second thoughts I’ll watch the screens by myself.’
She turned her back on him and sat down facing the monitors.
After a moment she heard the door click shut behind her.
10:08 PM.
So that was how Ben found himself kicked out of the monitor room for the second time in less than half an hour. Only, instead of continuing to get on the wrong side of Josh, this time he seemed to have blown things completely with Jasmine.
What she’d said about him being ‘smug’ had stung him badly. He was all too aware of the privileges of his fee-paying education. He did go to a posh school – and, to his shame, some kids at that school did think less of people who weren’t so lucky. That was why Ben had flinched when Josh had called Samantha a ‘pleb’. It was exactly the kind of obnoxious, arrogant attitude that he most hated to be associated with. And now Jasmine had apparently classed him squarely in the same category.
Standing once again with his back to the monitor-room door, he looked at the rest of the group.
Robert and Hugo were simply staring into space. Ben supposed they must have zoned out; gone into some kind of mental holding pattern while they waited to be rescued. But their expressions, he noticed, were every bit as eerily blank and vacant as those on the faces of the adults outside.
The silent, mousey girl – Ben had almost forgotten her name again . . . Lisa, that was it – just sat on her chair. Her hair still hung over her face and she was still hugging her knees, rocking herself back and forth, again and again.
Samantha and Lauren were huddled over their phones, whispering about something.
And lolling in a chair, looking up at Ben, was Josh.
‘Back with us so soon?’ Josh asked – with what Ben considered a textbook example of the ultimate ‘smug grin’.
‘Er—’ said Ben. But he was saved from having to think up some lame excuse for why he wasn’t next door with Jasmine by a sudden interruption.
An explosion of sound resolved into beats. There was a bar of tinny keyboard intro from a mobile phone’s built-in speaker. Then Samantha and Lauren started to sing.
‘OOOOOOOH baby babe . . .’ they crooned, then looked at each other and burst into giggles as everyone turned to stare at them.
‘Er . . . ’scuse me?’ said Hugo, who’d turned round in his chair.
‘OOOOOOOH baby babe,’ they both sang, ‘I’m a slave to your love!’
‘Excuse me,’ Hugo repeated. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Mind what?’ Samantha asked innocently. The music continued, sounding incredibly loud after all the relative quiet in the room. Lauren too had stopped singing, but her grin was wide and her eyes gleamed in gleeful anticipation.
‘The music,’ said Hugo.
‘What about it?’
‘Could you turn it off, please?’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s rubbish?’ Hugo suggested.
Samantha’s eyes widened as she pretended to look shocked for a moment. Then she shrugged. ‘That’s just your opinion.’
Hugo stared at her, nonplussed, as the music continued. Samantha
stared straight back.
‘Look,’ he managed eventually, ‘I really, really don’t want to have to listen to this stuff.’
‘Cover your ears then,’ said Samantha.
Hugo blinked. ‘You . . . you’re not the only person in the room, you know!’ he spluttered.
‘Well spotted,’ said Samantha serenely. ‘So?’
‘So . . . why should the rest of us have to put up with your horrible racket?’
‘Why should we have to turn our music off?’ Samantha asked back. ‘Just because you say so?’
‘But . . . can’t you listen to it on headphones or something?’
‘Don’t have none,’ said Samantha, still staring at him.
It was a challenge, Ben realized. This was a game that Samantha had obviously played many times before. And now it was Hugo’s move.
What could he do? Ben watched Hugo’s face as the possibilities slowly percolated through the brain behind it. He could try to grab the phone from the girls, but that was very physical: Hugo was reluctant to push things that far. Ben watched him look to Josh for guidance.
But Josh shook his head.
Now Ben could see that Hugo was really confused. Hugo always relied on Josh. But while being mates with Josh might count for something at their school, apparently that meant nothing here.
Hugo was out of his element. He was helpless.
‘Well, I think it’s very selfish of you!’ he said finally.
Samantha’s grin was triumphant.
Ben just watched. An ugly thought had occurred to him.
He was in the same position as Hugo, he realized; worse, probably. He knew next to nothing about the people in the room with him. Even the ones from his own school weren’t much more than strangers to him – or enemies. And yet here they all were, trapped together, reacting to the situation in their various unpredictable personal ways.
What if Jasmine was right? he thought. What if one – or more! – of the group had been secretly bitten and taken over? Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a ridiculous idea after all, for one simple reason:
How would he know?
