by Paul Kane
It didn’t matter that he was carrying the woman – though Bridget still felt that twinge of jealousy; it should be her he was carrying – Andrew was alive and healthy. She hadn’t infected him after all! There was still a chance she could get out of here with them, that he might understand her motivations.
Bridget pulled herself up the wall, reaching out with her good hand, reaching out to the group. But the Sleepers were in pursuit, and the foursome barely cast a backwards glance.
“Please,” she moaned. “Please look over here...” She was crying now, hot tears pouring down her face, inside the Hazmat helmet.
But the ambulance was heading off, it was too late. And it was being chased by more of those things. There were hundreds scattered around, all over the place. But now they turned at the same time, seeing her, noticing her even though Andrew and the others hadn’t.
Oh God, what had she done? And what would happen to her now?
Bridget began to cry even harder.
Fifteen
“Where the shitting hell is he, Huxley?” asked Dutton, pacing up and down. He was sniffing like a tracker dog in search of coke, each one in time to his steps as he paced up and down in the portacabin. “He should be back by now!”
“We weren’t to know there would be… complications,” replied the colonel, steepling his fingers.
“It’s all right for you, we have a lot riding on this.” He waved his hand across to indicate the general, who was still sitting in his same seat. “Our country’s in the toilet and this could get us out of it.”
“Then thank your lucky stars it came along,” Huxley told him.
“Where is your man?” Dutton asked once more. “He should have been here ages ago.”
“Relax, Baker will be here when he’s here.”
“Relax!” screamed Dutton, throwing his hands in the air. “You don’t know the kind of pressure I’m under here, the people I have to report to. And that’s before we get to the PM.”
“No, I just have the Pentagon on my ass,” growled Huxley. “What’s happening out there anyway, General? Has Radford got things under control yet?” He was referring to the fact that Sleepers up and down the quarantine barrier were poised, ready to attack at any moment. It was the most disturbing thing any of them had ever seen. “I have to tell you, I don’t like that man. I can see him being a major pain in the butt. No pun intended.”
“Radford’s just doing what he thinks is right,” Fitzpatrick replied. “He knows nothing about all this.”
“And he can’t. I don’t trust him,” Dutton said, sniffing again. “He’s too… moral. He would never have condoned what we did with Strauss – or what we intended to do at any rate when he got back. Except the annoying little prick never came back.”
“I still say he might have been useful to keep around,” said the general.
Huxley shook his head. “He’d never have gone for it. As it turns out though, we don’t have to worry about that anymore. The virus has done our job for us.”
Just then there was a knock; Dutton jumped.
“Calm yourself,” cautioned Huxley.
The politician grimaced and answered the door. It was a young British officer who didn’t look old enough to play at being a soldier, let alone be the real thing. He reported that not only was the ambulance they said to keep an eye out for on its way, the Sleepers were also beginning to stir.
“Tell Major Radford he has his orders,” Dutton informed the man, who looked to the general for a confirmation nod. The soldier trotted off and Dutton turned back to them. “That should keep him busy for a while.”
“Not to mention both lots of forces,” the colonel said. “As soon as Baker’s here though, we give the signal to withdraw. Right?”
The general gave another tip of the head. “We don’t want any more casualties than necessary.”
“Of course, if Major Radford should find himself in the line of fire at all…” Dutton didn’t have to finish that sentence, because the third nod from Huxley said his intention was clear.
No-one spoke after that until the ambulance arrived.
***
Major Radford stood at the barrier, watching the scene through his binoculars.
Dawn was coming over the horizon, and with it a vehicle. The Sleepers – who’d stood still until now, also watching – were beginning to get very agitated the closer it drew. Radford had been told that members of the medical and military “expedition” would be returning in the ambulance, that they’d already come through a lot to get here and might carry with them the solution to this problem. He hoped so, and he hoped they could still get through this without any more civilian casualties.
There were dots behind the vehicle, like it was being trailed. It reminded Radford of the natives chasing Harrison Ford in Raiders. But those were Sleepers, more of them, and they were after the ambulance.
A young soldier called Perkins tapped him on the shoulder and relayed what the general had said. “Damn,” Radford spat under his breath, but he knew the man was right. They had to give that vehicle all the covering fire it needed, even if it meant engaging the enemy.
The “enemy”. Heaven above, there were families out there on this battlefield.
Nevertheless, he passed down the orders, telling UK and US soldiers alike. If need be, there were men suited up to go into that battle on the front lines. Radford just prayed it wouldn’t spill over the barrier.
Because God help them all if it did.
***
They could see the blockade ahead of them, and had done well to get this far.
Andrew put it down to Jackson’s driving – and his luck, which he’d mentioned briefly on the race out of the city. There had been Sleepers at every single turn, proving to Strauss they were still a threat, that what was inside Suzanne was both the beginning and the end for them.
But why couldn’t he wake her up? He’d been wracking his brains trying to figure it out, and Suzanne seemed to have vanished – the dream Suzanne, that was. Or maybe he was just recovering properly now from the effects of that tranq? In any event, they had to get back and expose what had been going on with Baker and his superiors, not to mention the UK lot. Andrew felt ashamed, not only of his own country and its allies, but also to be human. Maybe they should leave this planet to the Sleepers after all.
No, there was good here. There was Suzanne. And he knew not everyone was mixed up in this. Major Radford perhaps? But he’d looked genuine enough. Could he be trusted?
They were coming up on the Sleepers Baker had mentioned, the ones circling the quarantine barrier. In an attempt to break out, as he’d hinted, or to stop Andrew and what was left of the team getting back home?
“Any way of going round them?” he asked Jackson.
“Nope. They got it locked down pretty tight, Doc. Only way is through, I reckon.”
That was going to get messy. Andrew could see through the windscreen ahead to the row of Sleepers, turning as one and preparing themselves. Preparing to stop the ambulance any way they could.
There was the crack of gunfire and Andrew saw that the military at the barrier were firing on the Sleepers, just warning shots, but now some of them were turning. No, don’t they realise it’s going to be a bloodbath? he thought, recalling the last skirmish in Middletown. And especially knowing what he did about the indestructible capabilities of the Sleepers; what he’d seen the virus do to Coleman.
The army began firing mortars into the crowd, attempting to disperse them so that the ambulance could get through. But it wasn’t budging the Sleepers. In fact, some of them were charging the barriers, forcing the army’s hand, provoking soldiers into firing directly at them. It was a battle the military couldn’t win. And they weren’t, either, getting exposed to the virus or swept aside easily, their strength no match for the tide of Sleepers. There had to be something he could do, some way of spreading the antidote en masse.
All his brains and he couldn’t even wake Suzanne.
Suddenly he did; suddenly he knew exactly what he had to do to get her to wake. But before he could do anything, the ambulance veered off to the left sending him crashing against the side of the vehicle. Andrew thought at first it was just more of Jackson’s high speed manoeuvring, but then he spotted Timms grabbing at the wheel once more, grabbing at Jackson.
“Timms! Timms? What are you doing, man?” Andrew called up to him.
“He’s gone crazy!” spluttered Jackson.
The doctor noticed the crack in Timms mask was more pronounced, understood that the virus must have seeped into him, maybe even lay dormant as it had in Suzanne until it was needed the most. A Sleeper indeed, now activated to stop them from reaching civilisation with a way to cure all the Sleepers.
Timms’ face was covered in that familiar wispy secretion, his eyes closed yet seeing. Seeing something at any rate, determined to make them crash. Timms had abandoned his rifle, didn’t need it anymore. He had another set of weapons in his arsenal and all he’d have to do to Jackson was expose the man to his virus.
Strauss wasn’t about to let that happen. He could still do what he was about to, what Timms was trying to stop him from doing because he… it, the intelligence controlling the Sleepers… knew the truth.
Andrew stumbled backwards in the ambulance, finding Suzanne, brushing her hair away from her beautiful face. He’d waited years to do this and couldn’t believe the first time would be in the back of a runaway ambulance.
But when he did it, all that melted away. Andrew could have just touched her – skin to skin, sharing his moisture with her. Yet it had to be this way, his lips brushing hers. The way it was always meant to be, the connection they shared bridging the gap. Physical as well as mental, at last.
He was her opposite number, the Yang to her Yin, the Omega Man – yeah, no time for a quip now with Jackson about that – to her Alpha Woman. He hadn’t needed to go in there at all to find the cure, because he’d been carrying it around all along inside him. As she’d slept, so he’d remained awake – as much as he’d longed to meet her in dreams.
Her eyes fluttered open; her real eyes. Not a projection, not something in the dream realm. “What kept you?” she said, finally, and frowned at her own words – not having used her mouth for years.
“Oh, you know,” he replied. “This and that.”
The ambulance lurched again and they both turned to look at Timms.
One touch was all it would take to cure him.
But that’s when the whole world tipped upside down.
Sixteen
The ambulance had almost made it. Radford didn’t quite know what happened.
It hadn’t been the Sleepers at the barrier attacking, or the ones chasing the vehicle, though they were pouring over it now. Must have been inside, because whoever had been driving was pulling some crazy stunts. Radford had just stood there and watched it brake, then roll over once to land on its side.
He was well aware of what happened after that, however, though he didn’t truly believe it. Dr Strauss, emerging from the vehicle, battered but still alive, carrying a woman Radford hadn’t seen before. He didn’t quite understand the significance of this, nor why the Sleepers near them were backing off.
A few minutes later, another figure staggered from the wreckage. It was the black soldier, Jackson, who’d been fighting with… Timms, yes, he was there too! Neither of them had their masks on, but seemed okay, if a little dazed and confused; helping each other from the ambulance.
Strauss continued on towards the barrier, the Sleepers parting like the Red Sea before him. Radford had never seen anything like it and he watched with his mouth gaping wide. He’d prayed for a miracle, something that would stop them from firing on innocents – temporarily “confused” as they were – and he’d got it.
“Dr Strauss!” he called out. “What’s happening?”
The doctor eyed him suspiciously, as if he didn’t quite know whether to trust him or not. There were very few soldiers around now, UK or US, and that seemed fine by Strauss. “Are you a part of all this?” he asked, carrying the woman across the threshold like they’d just got married.
“Part of what?”
“I’m afraid he thinks you’re one of us.” The sniff following that announcement meant it could only be Dutton. Radford looked over his shoulder and saw the trio of people running this operation: Colonel Huxley pointing a submachine gun in their direction. “We were expecting Baker.”
“He couldn’t make it,” Strauss said. “He ran into something.”
“It’s all right,” said the major. “I don’t know how, but they’re okay. And everyone around them seems okay. They…” He turned to Strauss. “You found the cure, didn’t you?”
“I am the bloody cure,” Strauss proclaimed. “Or the closest thing we have to it on this planet. The only person who’s immune and she found me.” He nodded down at the woman in his arms. “Through time, she found me – before I even knew this was what I wanted to do. Before I knew I had to do it to set her free, to try to save everyone here.” He looked at the woman, with pure love in his eyes. “I’m only sorry I can’t totally reverse what’s been done to her DNA, only dampen its affects when we’re close.”
“I don’t understand,” said Radford.
“She’s the carrier,” said Dutton, voice rising with excitement. “My God! We don’t need Baker at all, we have everything we need right here. Living versions of the virus and antidote.”
“Someone had better start explaining what’s going on here,” Radford told them.
“Isn’t it obvious, Major? We’re commodities to be bought and sold. Screw Middletown, they can all rot. Isn’t that right?”
“Now… now look here,” said Radford, drawing his own pistol. “I suggest you start telling me what’s happening or–”
“Or you’ll what, foot soldier?” sniffed Dutton. “Colonel, would you do the honours?”
“My pleasure,” said the American and blasted Radford where he stood, riddling him with bullets.
***
Suzanne screamed.
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Andrew. “You murdering… There was no need for that. We’d have come with you.”
“But it was fun,” said the colonel, laughing.
“A casualty of war,” explained Dutton.
“So, what now?” asked Suzanne, in a croaky voice, choking back tears.
It was the general’s turn to speak, but he looked uncomfortable. “You come with us and the city will be… pacified.”
“But…” Strauss couldn’t keep the desperation from his voice. “But there’s no need to do that now, don’t you understand?”
“Oh, we understand,” said Dutton, smirking. “But we can’t afford for there to be any trace of this thing left. Apart from you two, of course.”
“Wouldn’t be worth so much if everyone could get their hands on it, y’see?” The colonel raised his rifle, gesturing for them to move towards a nearby jeep. Andrew obeyed; he knew they needed both him and Suzanne, but they didn’t technically need them alive. Just fresh enough to get them to a lab.
He carried Suzanne, then placed her inside the vehicle. “You can’t possibly hope to get away with this,” he told them.
“Why not?” Dutton asked. “Stuff like this happens all the time and gets covered up. Besides which, the situation was getting out of control and something had to be done to stop the disease spreading. General populous can be very forgiving if they think they’re at risk, not to mention apathetic.”
“Those people in there have families, relatives,” Suzanne argued.
“True.” He shrugged. “But then you’re going to make us a lot of money, Miss…”
“Parris. Suzanne Parris.”
Dutton paused a moment. “Didn’t there used to be a mayor called Parris
in Middletown?” The politician shrugged a second time. “Not important. All that really matters is that the cash will buy off a lot of people. Either that or they’ll be… advised to keep quiet.”
“You make me sick,” Strauss said.
“Not as sick as your lady friend made them.” Dutton sniffed, simultaneously chuckling at his own joke. “Now get in, Dr Strauss. The general is waiting to call down the strike. If you would.”
The general nodded and pressed a radio transmitter at his ear. “This is Fitzpatrick. Identification code Theta 29B. Proceed with ‘Big Sleep’. Repeat, proceed with ‘Big Sleep’.”
Still standing by the jeep, Andrew almost burst out laughing at the name; such a stupid title for such an horrendous act.
“Now that the wheels have been set in motion, I think we ought to be leaving,” Dutton prompted.
“What about your men?” Strauss asked. “Colonel, surely–”
Huxley responded to this by thrusting the rifle in Andrew’s direction. He didn’t give a toss.
“So, after you Colonel,” said Dutton.
There were two sharp cracks that made Andrew and Suzanne jump. It all happened so quickly, they didn’t have time to react. Especially Huxley and Dutton, who slumped to their knees, then dropped face down in the dirt. “You two,” said the general, holding a smoking automatic pistol, “are going nowhere.”
Andrew smiled. So, it had all been a ruse to weed out the bad eggs, the general hadn’t really called down a strike. He was actually working undercover to expose the colonel and Dutton.
“General, thank God you–” Andrew swallowed hard when Fitzpatrick turned the pistol on him, on Suzanne in the car.
“I’m really sorry, Doctor,” said the general with a sigh. “But you know those… what was it you called them when you first arrived? Oh yes, ‘dodgy foreign powers’. Well, I work for one.”
Andrew hung his head. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. At least that was Middletown’s fate, because this general, this… sleeper agent for another country cared even less about the city than Huxley or Dutton. He also wanted the virus and the antidote, what Suzanne and Andrew had inside them. Nothing else mattered. “There’s no point even trying to talk you round, is there?”
