by Casey, Ryan
He covered his mouth. Made his way over towards the stairs. The silence in the ventilation shaft was deafening.
He climbed down the steps, Ted by his side, and made his way towards the lowest floor.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, he saw him.
“Peter Hillson,” Riley said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Peter turned around. His eyes widened. A smile of relief stretched across his face.
“Riley,” he said, that American drawl not quite as sharp as it once was. “Pleasure to see you again.”
“What the hell have you been doing in here?”
Peter looked outside the window.
Then, he looked back over at Riley. He didn’t look too alarmed. Not anymore. Sneaky fucker.
“I’ve got a lot to tell you,” he said. “A lot to tell you. And you’re going to want to listen—”
“I’m done listening to you.”
Peter smiled.
“Not when you hear what I have to tell you.”
Riley shook his head. “Stop speaking in riddles—”
“I’ve solved it, Riley. I’ve solved it all.”
Riley frowned. “Solved all what?”
Peter’s smile widened further. “Everything.”
Chapter Thirteen
Anna stared at the incoming helicopter, Alison by her side, and she knew from Alison’s reaction that it wasn’t good news.
Alison’s eyes were wide. For the first time since she’d met her, she genuinely looked like she was in fear. In fear of who was approaching. In fear of who had arrived.
And a whole host of options spiralled around her mind. A whole manner of possibilities.
But in the end, it was only Alison who could enlighten her.
“What’s happening?” Anna asked. “Who… who are these people?”
Alison looked at her. A lump in her throat wobbled. “I don’t know exactly. But… but what I do know is that I’ve seen them before.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Back in Britain,” Alison said. “Before I left for this place. Before Melissa led me here. There was a group. They were going around committing awful crimes. Atrocities. Murdering people. Gunning them down. The woman leading them, she was called Xanthe. I don’t know where she came from, but she had a group with her. And a helicopter, too. We… we escaped her. Just. But it looks like we didn’t do too good a job of that.”
Anna shook her head, frowned. “It doesn’t make any sense. What do they want?”
“I don’t know what they want. Not exactly. But I know that whatever it is… whatever reason they are here… it can’t be good. Believe me. There’s something about Xanthe. Something about the look in her eyes. I think… I can’t explain it. But I have an awful feeling we’re going to find out the hard way.”
Anna gulped. Looked at that helicopter as it descended. “So what do you suggest we do?”
“We need to hide,” Alison said. “We need to make it look like this place is a ghost town.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“Then we’re going to die,” she said.
Anna flinched when she heard Alison’s bluntness. Because this still didn’t make sense, not completely.
Why would Xanthe’s group be so keen to wipe people out?
And why would they be here?
But she heard the sincerity to Alison’s words. She saw the legitimate fear on her face.
And she knew she was serious.
“Kesha,” she said. “Melissa. So many… so many others. We need to get to them. Before it’s too late.”
Alison nodded. “Make it quick, though. Because this group. I don’t think they’re the kind of people who’re willing to have a conversation.”
The urgency built up in Anna. The eagerness to get back to her home. To get to Kesha. To get her to safety. She felt so guilty. So guilty for leaving her in the first place. Because she hadn’t achieved anything by coming out here. She hadn’t been able to help Riley or Ted. She’d just got herself into deep shit.
“I need to go back,” she said. “There’s no time to waste.”
And then without even waiting for Alison, she ran in the direction of her home.
In the direction of the landing helicopter.
She focused on her home. Tried to blot the helicopter out of her focus. Tried to force them from her mind. Behind, she could hear Alison running, too. There were people in the streets. People chatting, squinting ahead, trying to figure out what was going on.
“You need to move,” Anna shouted.
Glances of surprise. Of uncertainty.
She kept on running.
“We can’t waste any time. We need… we need to hide. All of us.”
She felt fearful just saying those words. Because this place. It had seen enough recently. All these years of peace, and now this sudden shift towards chaos.
The people here. They were wondering when it was all going to end.
And Anna couldn’t give them the answers.
Nobody could.
She stopped, then.
Because she saw someone climb out of the helicopter.
Short hair.
Muscular build.
Rifle on her shoulder.
She looked at her. Then at her home which was just a matter of metres away.
In the window, she could see Kesha.
Staring out.
Trying to figure out what was happening.
She ducked behind one of the buildings. Heart racing. Hands sweating. She looked over at the house again. Gritted her teeth. “Get down, Kesha. Get down. Please.”
She saw Alison by her side.
Stood there with her. Together.
And then she heard it.
The voice.
“Peter Hillson,” she said. “We don’t have any issues with any of you. We don’t have any beef with any of you. Not right now. And especially not if you hand Peter over. But believe me. If you don’t, people will start to pay. People will start to suffer. Because he has something we want. Something we… something we need.”
Anna looked at Alison. Fear building in her eyes. A determination to just step forward. To just step out into the open.
“Nobody?” she said. “Absolutely nobody willing to talk?”
“Peter Hillson is dead.”
The voice. Anna recognised it. Wasn’t sure who at first. Not until she looked around the corner, saw her.
Melissa was standing there.
Standing right opposite the helicopter group.
She saw something, then. A smile cross this Xanthe’s face. A mean smile. A smile of recognition. “Well hello, stranger. Fancy bumping into you here. You never allowed me to properly introduce myself—”
“Whatever you want with Peter Hillson,” Melissa said. “You won’t find it here. You won’t find him here. Not anymore. You can see the devastation here. You can see the shit that’s gone down. It’s over. Whatever you’re trying to achieve… it’s over.”
Xanthe didn’t say anything. Not for a moment.
Then she walked forward. Slowly. Confidently.
She stopped right opposite Melissa. There were other people standing there. Rifles in hand. Focusing on the island. On the people.
She looked into Melissa’s eyes smiling. Anna’s tension growing. Everything—everyone—silent.
“That’d be an almighty shame,” she said. “But if you believe Peter Hillson is dead… you’re greatly mistaken.”
Melissa stood her ground. “And why’s that?”
“Because he contacted me five minutes ago.”
Melissa frowned. Anna did, too.
What was this?
What was it about?
“What—”
“I lived here, many years ago. I was sent out on a mission. Only I was cut loose. Deemed too dangerous to return because I’d been exposed to a form of the virus that manifested in unpredictable ways. That… manifested in consciousness itself.”<
br />
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Melissa said.
“While searching for a cure, Peter Hillson created a new strain of the virus,” Xanthe said. “A strain that helped the carrier maintain control over their decisions. Maintain consciousness. Only it came at a cost. It spiralled out of control. Because that’s the thing about this ‘virus’. As conscious as I am… I cannot control it. Nobody can.”
Melissa stood there. Anna hid there. In the distance, she saw Kesha peeking through the window.
Melissa held her ground, but it looked like her confidence was waning.
“I don’t see what you mean.”
Xanthe smiled.
Then she lowered her rifle.
“I’ll show you what I mean.”
And then out of nowhere, she lunged forward and dug her teeth into Melissa’s neck.
First, the scream.
Then the blood.
Xanthe bit down. Clamped her teeth together.
Then ripped Melissa’s neck open.
She pulled away. Shouting picked up. Shock took over.
And all Anna could do was watch in shock as Melissa stood there, blood spurting from her neck.
As she fell to her knees.
As her head hit the ground, as she choked on her own blood.
And as Xanthe stood there, chewing down on her flesh.
She looked at the rest of Anna’s people, blood dripping down her chin, and she smiled.
Melissa held on to her neck.
Gasped for air, choked on blood.
And then after a minute of kicking, of struggling, of clutching, she went still.
Chapter Fourteen
“What’s going on, Peter? What the hell have you been hiding?”
Riley stood opposite Peter Hillson, Ted by his side. The sun was coming up now. He’d heard something in the distance, too, as hard as it was to hear anything in here. What sounded like a helicopter landing. Commotion. He didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t know what was going down.
But it didn’t sound good.
Peter looked down at the ground. Walked towards Riley.
“You said you could explain everything. What did you mean by that?”
“A year ago, I developed a new strain of the virus.”
Riley’s mouth dried out. He held his ground. And held his wrench, too. He didn’t trust Peter. Not anymore. “What are you talking about?”
“When I was working between districts. I found a way to harness the virus’ developing abilities so that consciousness and motor functioning could be maintained. I mean, you already know consciousness prevails. We’ve already established that the virus is akin to a locked-in syndrome. Well we found a way to break the people out of that. To live as normal as possible again. Only… it didn’t have the intended effect.”
Riley held his ground. “Keep talking.”
“The test subjects. They… they functioned well initially. We thought we had a cure. We thought we had something that essentially reversed the virus completely. That helped these people maintain control of their urges—even if those urges were still there, at times. But… but that wasn’t the case. These urges, they only grew stronger. And the virus, it did something remarkable. It started to fix the problems with these people. Started to… to upgrade them, of a sort. Make them stronger. Quicker. It started to fix humanity’s problems. Because that’s what it does.”
The horror of this admission weighed on Riley’s shoulders. Haunting in its implications. “The test subjects. What did you do to them?”
“Sent them on extraction missions in Britain. Only we made sure we killed them. Made sure they didn’t have a shot at getting back here. Because that virus. The implications of a virus that can live within somebody while they maintain consciousness… you have no idea how dangerous that could be. Only one of those missions went wrong. A group of these infected… they broke away. Spent their time plotting how they were going to get back here.”
The sound of the gunfire. The shouts.
“And that’s whose here,” Riley said, defeat in his voice.
“I received communication from them not long ago. They’ve been trying to get through to me for weeks while I’ve been holed up in here. So I’ve been working on something. I’ve been trying to develop something. And I think I’ve got it, Riley. I think… I think I’ve finally got it.”
Riley frowned again. Ted was just speechless. Probably struggling to wrap his head around the changing world; the rapidly shifting rules.
“What are you talking about?” Riley asked.
Peter rubbed his hand through his hair. “The cure. The cure for the virus in all its forms. A reversal of its progression—in those well enough to take it. And a vaccination against future forms. I think I’ve got it. I’ve got it right here. And it doesn’t even require injection. All it requires is the right combination of blood types and DNA to come together in a receptive host. And then the antivirus starts to work. It starts to spread from person to person. Once the first domino falls, there is no stopping it.”
Riley was sceptical. “How do you know this?”
Peter Hillson smiled.
“I’ve been busy. While you’ve been out there, I’ve not had a whole lot to do in here. Especially not with the dead outside guarding my every chance of escape. I’ve been testing things. Working on combinations. Found it by accident at first. I went to the blood samples I took of people when they got here. The DNA swabs. I tried everything. And then I found it. A way of stopping this thing. A way of reversing it. Of finishing it, forever. Using the virus to fight itself. To want to fix itself. That’s why you’re here. And what I’ve been waiting to tell you all along.”
“So you have some cure,” Riley said. “What next? How do we get it out into the wild?”
Peter’s face dropped, then. Just for a second, it dropped. “That’s the thing,” he said. “The cure. It was made with a combination of blood types and DNA, as I say. As well as other blood factors that go far beyond twenty-first century scientific understanding. Several rare blood types and rare strands of DNA, combined together to make this… this elixir. And there are only three people in our personal records in all of the districts on the island who have this rare combination that allows us to bring it together. Only three.”
Riley swallowed a lump in his throat. “Who?”
Peter Hillson smiled. “Kesha is one of them,” he said. “And you, Riley. You are another.”
Riley frowned. His whole world felt like it was collapsing in on itself. “I don’t under…”
“You’re a normal man. But when your blood is combined with Kesha’s blood… and when both of your blood is combined with more of the third person’s blood, that’s when the magic happens.”
Riley rubbed his fingers through his hair. The weight of the situation building up ever more.
“Who is the third person?”
Peter Hillson’s face dropped. “That’s the thing,” he said. “She’s called Rhubi. And the last record of her alive is in District 63.”
“District 63?”
“The lost District,” Peter said. “Fell a long time ago. The virus manifested in… in ways you would never imagine in your wildest dreams. Or nightmares.”
Riley got the sense he knew where this was going.
“So what are you suggesting?”
“The only thing I can,” Peter said. “We need to go to District 63. We need to find Rhubi. We need to hope to God she’s still alive. And then we save the world.”
Riley looked at Ted, still dazed, still in disbelief.
He saw Ted’s eyebrows rise.
A little smile creep up his face.
“Looks like you’re a pretty special dude after all eh, Riles?”
Episode Fifty-Eight
The Lesser Key Of Solomon
(SECOND EPISODE OF SEASON ELEVEN)
Prologue
He felt the crowbar smack across the side of his face and fell to the crisp
ing, dying daffodils below.
He looked up through blurred eyes. The sun beamed down from above. He wanted to squint, but motor control was beyond his reach. As much as he struggled to tame his urges. As much as he fought with the parasite within, controlling his every move.
It was all in vain.
There was no defeating the controlling beast.
Around him, flowers. Fields of dying flowers. Grass that had burned in the brightness of the sun, a drought taking its anger out on the land.
And above him, that man.
The man with the crowbar.
He saw the way he looked down at him. The way he checked to see whether he was finished. And again, his instincts were to feign death. To pretend he had been taken out. After all, that was what would give him a greater chance of survival—even if survival was barely worth it anymore.
But survival would give him a chance to keep on going. To keep on trying to get out of this horror. To escape this nightmare.
Because that’s the only way he could describe it. A nightmare.
A nightmare that he so desperately wanted to wake up from.
But he didn’t control his instincts. Because he couldn’t.
Instead, he felt his dry, broken, bloodied lips curling.
He felt his throat crying out, a guttural groan emitting from deep within.
And he began to drag himself to his feet.
The man reacted in the expected way, then. Eyes widened. Crowbar lifted once again.
And this time, he knew there was going to be no escape. This time, he knew there was going to be no worming his way out of the mess he was in.
He could only bear witness to what was occurring as his body lifted, as that crowbar lifted, as it hovered dangerously above his skull…
“Wait.”
He heard the word. Felt it, too. He saw the look of confusion on the man’s face. The look of bewilderment.
And he felt that same bewilderment.
Because… he’d said the word.
Could it be possible?
Could it really have happened?
There was a moment’s pause. A moment where everything went still. His reactions. The man’s reactions. Everything.
