The Dead World (The Dead Room Trilogy Book 2)

by Erickson,Stephanie

  Ashby was stunned. This was it. He was moving forward with his bots. And they would take the world by storm. He knew it.

  Months went by before he got his first test group. The process was intense, involving several doctors and scientists in the screening, carefully selecting each patient to make sure the treatment would not only have the best chance at success, but would also be easily duplicated down the line. The whole thing made Ashby impatient. If it were up to him, he’d just take the first cancer patient that came along, just like with the chimps. But his colleagues insisted on more methodology and red tape.

  In the meantime, Mendi got his approval to start human trials. Of course, they’d celebrated that with more champagne, and Judy made a special dinner for him.

  With Mendi getting his approval, they were neck and neck for beating this thing. Mendi always thought it was great. People would have two worthwhile options they could pursue. Together, they would wipe out cancer, as well as many other illnesses. They fancied themselves superheroes of a sort.

  That night, they sat together on Ashby’s balcony, sipping wine. “Do you think we’ll create an immortal society this way?” Ashby asked.

  “Well, that’s a question, isn’t it?” Mendi said, absently swirling the wine in his glass.

  Ashby waited for an answer as he daydreamed about the world they’d set in motion.

  “Immortal? Probably not. Not with our current developments. The body will still degenerate and die eventually, even if we cure things like cancer and Alzheimer’s.”

  Ashby nodded, but Mendi went on. “However, with more advances in our current fields, who knows where science could take us? The possibilities truly are endless.”

  The thought was exciting and exhausting all at once. He thought once this was done, once his creation was out in the world, he could rest on his laurels. But Mendi was right. There was always one more step to take, just a little further to push, one more discovery to be made. In spite of himself, Ashby loved it.

  “Cheers, my friend.” Ashby held out his glass, and Mendi responded in kind. They toasted the future that they had created together.

  That week, both Mendi and Ashby got their next subjects. They pored over the charts in Ashby’s lab while Ashby’s assistant kept them constantly fueled with fresh coffee.

  “I think yours are good. Most are sick but still relatively healthy, not good candidates for chemo due to a history of pneumonia or other variables. But I’m not all that good at the medical mumbo jumbo. That’s what you’re for,” Ashby said, trying not to focus on the fact that Mendi could beat him to the punch. Mendi was right. There was room for both of them in this world. Or so he told himself, repeatedly.

  “Mmm,” Mendi said, not looking up from the chart that had Ashby’s candidates.

  “What’s wrong? Think I should pass on this one too?” If he did, Mendi was sure to get there first, rendering his cure useless. It was one thing if they got there at the same time, but if Mendi proved it was possible first, no one would even want to hear about his bots. It would be yesterday’s news.

  “No. Actually, I think it’s a great group. In relatively good health, just like mine. Take this man, his specific type of cancer is nonresponsive to chemo, and he’s had an adverse reaction to radiation.” Mendi looked up from the paperwork.

  “Ben, you could save them.”

  And just like that, it all became real.

  On a warm May day in Northern California, Ashby and Mendi watched anxiously as doctors implanted the first nanobot into a human. Mendi clapped his friend on the back as they went to work. “Congratulations, Ben. I’m so proud of you.”

  Ashby beamed during the entire procedure, and he couldn’t wait to get the first scans.

  A few days later, Mendi started his treatments, but Ashby didn’t understand what was going on, or when to congratulate his friend. A lot of it was done through a microscope, or in a petri dish, and then reintroduced to the patient.

  But, late that night, after he’d watched Mendi inject the first subject with the mystery fluid he’d been working on all day, they sat together with the lights only half on, giving the lab a quieter feel.

  “Now, we wait,” Mendi said.

  “And now, we wait.”

  4.

  Approximate year, 2346

  Elder Branneth walked the path without purpose. She’d never felt so out of control before, and she didn’t like it one bit. In a matter of days, the man she loved was dead, and his murderer had been made second in command of the elders. It made her feel like Elder Mattli was in on Wesley’s killing. She stopped and sat down on a huge stone.

  Taking stock of her surroundings, she realized she was sitting where the elders would have left his body. She rubbed her hand along it, wanting to feel closer to him.

  When she looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkled brilliantly back at her, but they didn’t offer any comfort at all. If Mattli had been behind Wesley’s death, what did he stand to gain? He had gotten the head elder spot, but the two didn’t seem related. Plus, Mattli didn’t seem the type to kill his best friend just to gain status. He seemed genuinely distraught over the man’s death.

  So why play a part in Wesley’s murder? Was he threatened by Wesley’s brilliance? Branneth wasn’t; she only wanted to be a part of it. Stand next to him while he climbed to greatness. But all that had been stolen from her.

  Absently, she ran her fingers along the handle of a knife she’d gotten from home. She had no plan for the weapon Mason had used to kill the love of her life. It just made her feel better to keep it close.

  Control. That was what she needed. She’d stumbled along since Wesley died, revealed too much of her love for him, made too many mistakes. Well, no more.

  She’d lost control once before. When Wesley had been matched to that horrible girl Ashley. Ashley was nothing more than an orphan, and Branneth couldn’t get her head around why the elders would match a future elder with a woman like that. She’d found out too late to do anything about it. And she’d despaired for a bit, let herself wander aimlessly through her life, much like she was now.

  But then, she’d taken action. She’d found reasons to stop her own matches. Being an elder herself, it wasn’t hard to hold up the proceedings or find better matches for those who could be paired with her. Often, she found women who were more likely to make the man happier anyway, so she didn’t feel bad depriving them of the status they would earn being paired with an elder.

  After Wesley was married to Ashley, she held on to the hope that it wouldn’t last. He hated her, and she was bound to…turn up missing before long. Branneth only needed to bide her time before they could finally be together.

  They’d been friends for so long she didn’t even consider Wesley might not feel the same way about her. Of course he did. They shared common interests and goals. They were well suited for each other. They would make a perfect match.

  She often imagined them living together in her home, her bringing him coffee, reading by the fire together, just barely touching hands as their arms rested next to each other.

  But one fateful night, the now second-in-command elder took her control away and killed Wesley. The other elders didn’t think he was guilty. They thought Ashley killed him in self-defense, but she was a half-wit, not nearly strong enough to do such a thing. Wesley would’ve killed her first. He should have killed her first.

  Well, Elder Hawkins, or Mason, or whatever she was supposed to call him now, couldn’t hide behind his title for long. He was nothing but a murderer, and she would find a way to be his undoing.

  “What goes around comes around,” she said into the night as a stray moonbeam found its way through the treetops and glinted off the blade of the butcher knife in her lap.

  Mattli and Mason were silent while they secured the dead room. What more could they say? Processing the fact that Ashby wasn’t quite the man they’d always thought was difficult at best.

  Mattli continued to be indignant abou
t the revelation, but Mason tried to remain objective. Maybe it was easier for him, since he’d spent such a short time being an elder, and understanding the history of the island was all new information to him. What was one more shocking bit of news to add to the fire?

  “I’m going topside to get the bots.”

  Mattli nodded silently, and Mason started climbing the metal ladder that led to the outside.

  Every other time he’d been in the dead room, he’d always been anxious to get out, to breathe the fresh air. But this time, the island felt different, knowing how it was created, and why. A shiver passed through him as he stepped out into the moonlight.

  The hairs on his arms stood on end, and he shivered again. Rubbing his arms, he looked around the woods, feeling a sense of foreboding wash over him. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged it off as information overload and went to the pile of brush where he’d hidden the box.

  Whistling as he closed the distance, more to comfort himself than anything else, he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone was sitting on the preparation stone just ten feet ahead of him.

  Her silhouette was thin, rigid. Branneth. What was she doing out here at this hour? he thought.

  “Elder Branneth. What are you doing out here so late?” he asked as he carefully approached her from the right, and slightly behind.

  She didn’t turn to look at him. “Elder Hawkins.” She said his name with such derision that it almost gave him chills. He narrowed his eyes, wondering just what her purpose for being out there was. She had no love for him—he’d always known that. But since she pegged Wesley’s murder on him, that lack of emotion had morphed into such hate that Mason didn’t like to be alone with her.

  Staring off into the woods, she said, “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Elder Mattli and I are just wrapping up a few preparations for Elder Alkoff’s funeral tomorrow.” It wasn’t a total lie. And Ashby knew Branneth was familiar with only giving twenty percent of the truth and calling it gospel.

  Slowly, Mason walked around in front of Branneth, making sure to stay outside of arm’s reach. He stood with her, looking up at what little sky they could see through the trees.

  “It’s a lovely night,” he said, trying to get to the bottom of what she was doing as quickly as possible so he could go to bed. He knew Mattli was exhausted too, and that made him feel the pressure more keenly.

  She didn’t respond, so he took the opportunity to glance sidelong at her. When he spied the knife, he turned to face her and took a step back.

  “Elder Branneth, what are you doing out here in the woods with that knife?”

  “You don’t recognize it, do you?” she said, her tone unsettlingly even.

  “No. I don’t. All I’m recognizing here is a threat.”

  “You don’t even recognize the weapon you used to kill my Wesley.” There wasn’t a single iota of menace in her voice. In fact, to Mason, it sounded almost like…melancholy.

  It made him take a step toward her, his hands outstretched. “Elder Branneth, are you okay?”

  “No. I don’t suppose I am.” Finally, she turned and looked at him. Her face was drawn, and he felt like he could read her pain on it. She’d been so angry and belligerent, particularly toward Ashley, since she’d been the one matched to Wesley, that he’d never considered she might actually be hurt. In that moment, despite what she’d said and done to Ashley over the years, he felt some sympathy for her.

  He took another step toward her. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. It’s too late for that, isn’t it? I mean, what’s done is done, right? You certainly can’t bring Wesley back. You can’t go back to being a welder. This is a living nightmare for me, to have to work, not shoulder to shoulder, but below the man who killed the one person on this island I loved.”

  She looked over at him as he sat down. Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the moonlight, and the anger behind them made him think she might spit at him right then and there.

  “If it makes you feel better, this isn’t what I wanted either. I just didn’t want to die.”

  She looked out at the night, watching the wind chase the leaves through the trees. “You should’ve. You took Wesley’s life, so we take yours.”

  He had no response to that. He knew full well he couldn’t argue the point with her. She’d made up her mind about what really happened that night, and there was no talking her out of it. Ashley had been the real killer, but she was gone, eaten by the nanobots on the mainland. She couldn’t atone for her so-called crime. Mason was there in front of her, in the flesh. He would do nicely, no matter what the truth was.

  “But that’s not how it worked out, is it? Somehow, you and that little bitch Ashley weaseled your way out of it, again. And here you are. Second in command.” She turned back to him.

  She snorted, and Mason couldn’t help but notice her grip on the knife was tighter than before. The blade faced away from him, and her left hand clutched the handle. It was a rather large butcher knife, and Mason thought it odd it was what Branneth had chosen to hold onto as a memento of Wesley’s life.

  “Branneth…” He eyed her, not sure if she was going to hurt him or herself. She seemed so full of despair, but he could see the anger there too. “You know, when Ashley died, I felt angry too. And desperate. And I felt like giving up. It will pass. Soon, you will feel him with you, comforting you during times like this.”

  “No.”

  “No?” he asked, confused at her response.

  “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to feel badly about what happened to that twat. That whore who was unworthy of a man like Wesley. She got what she deserved. But Wesley, all he got in return for putting up with her was stabbed in the back.”

  “Technically, he was stabbed in the front.” The words were out before he could stop them.

  “You would know, killer.”

  “My point is that the pain will pass, eventually. It won’t always feel like you’re dying inside, and then you can pick up your life, put one foot in front of the other, and start moving forward again.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” Her voice broke, and Mason felt the urge to put his arm around her. But he didn’t. She was like a wild animal, and he knew to respect that barely controlled anger.

  He saw her right arm move, turning to expose her wrist to the moonlight.

  “I just want the pain to end.”

  “Branneth…” He looked at her, not quite able to put his finger on what she was playing at.

  “Goodbye, Mason,” she said as she turned to him. A tear fell from her chin onto the stone between them, and she moved.

  Mason didn’t see what she was doing, only that she was moving. Like lightning, he reacted, or tried to react. But something was wrong. The look on her face changed to a sneer.

  “You’re a fool, Mason Hawkins,” she said as she pulled the knife from his side.

  5.

  June 2024

  As the weeks went by, Mendi’s patients did brilliantly. One had sustained some organ damage from her cancer, and even that was showing signs of healing. It was a downright miracle. Her parents were throwing themselves at him, declaring him their savior. And that was just one of them. They were all doing well.

  Ashby struggled to deal with his friend’s success. His own hadn’t been nearly so clear-cut. He had a few patients who weren’t thriving, one man in particular. Although his cancer seemed to be slowing down, it was still progressing. His type of cancer was extremely aggressive and fast moving. It was also very painful. All Ashby seemed to accomplish was to extend his suffering. So he had a hard time celebrating the fact that the patient survived past the expiration date his doctors had set for him. He wasn’t living. The poor man was on a morphine drip, and in and out of consciousness. His parents didn’t talk to Ashby at all, let alone praise him for anything. He’d saved nothing. In fact, he’d made things worse.

  After the man died, he sat alone in his lab, w
ondering what to do. It was his first death. And Mendi hadn’t had a single one.

  Where to go from here? he scrawled in the journal. More.

  The thought made him sit forward in the chair. More? Could he use more bots?

  Mendi came in just then. “Thought you might need a drink.”

  “Mendi, what do you think about more than one bot?”

  “I think they’re little monsters. Why invite more to the party?” he asked as he poured the scotch.

  “Because they could eliminate the disease faster. The rats, and the chimps for that matter, are smaller than humans, less ground to cover. More bots could render similar results in humans.”

  “I…” Mendi considered Ashby’s proposal. “You know, that just might work.”

  “The risks…” Ashby considered what could happen with more than one bot in the playing field. He’d worked hard to reprogram the bots, at Mendi’s suggestion. And felt confident it should work. But until it was tested thoroughly, his theoretical knowledge was only went so far. If his programming failed, the bots could do some serious damage. When he was so close to a major breakthrough, he wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. Clearly, one couldn’t work fast enough, at least not against such an aggressive cancer. And frankly, the aggressive, incurable cancers were all he was going to get for a while, since his method wasn’t exactly FDA approved yet.

  “The risks are palpable, yes, but I think it’s clear one won’t do the trick. At least not on aggressive cancers,” Mendi offered. “You must continue to move forward, or risk stagnating, and stagnating with people’s lives on the line is a bad idea.”

  “Indeed,” Ashby said as he drank the last sip of scotch from the plastic cup.

  The next day, he started testing. He still had two chimps left in his lab. The ones that had been cured had been sent to a sanctuary to live out the rest of their lives.

  But chimps were different. So much smaller than humans. If two bots got out of control in the lab, it could be disastrous.