Isolation Z (Book 4): The Last Invasion

by Riva, Aline

  “That's terrible news, I'm so sorry for you,” Emma said as they stood on the beach together.

  “I'm still getting used to the idea,” he told her, “I want to think Christian was wrong but I saw the results of the scan and I've been through this before. He's not wrong. When I'm gone, will you take over as head of security?”

  Emma stared at him. For a moment all she could hear was the roll of the surf and the cry of gulls.

  “Are you sure you want to ask me that right now?”

  “Yes, that's why I'm asking. I hope you'll fill the job as soon as I'm no longer capable of working.”

  She looked at Marc, her thoughts tumbling over so many memories of their life before the apocalypse, when he had been the best friend and body guard of Greg Fitzroy and she had been Greg's helicopter pilot. They went back so far, had seen so much struggle together. It didn't seem fair, now life was peaceful in Circus, that it would end like this. Greg deserved more than this. He deserved a future...

  “I remember before...Greg paid for your treatment. He found you the best surgeon. All he wanted was to save his best friend.”

  Marc managed a smile.

  “He did save me,” he replied, “I got more time. Maybe that's all I'm meant to have.”

  Emma held back tears as she hugged him. He laughed softly.

  “Stop that, Emma! Right now I'm fine. I don't know how long I'll stay this way – it could be a long time, let's hope so.”

  “I hope so too,” she replied as she let go of him.

  “I'm off to see John and then I'll be back out on patrol,” he told her, “Keep watching the waves, Emma. You never know, maybe Alex is still out there. It's not impossible.”

  She smiled as her eyes reflected sadness then he walked away, heading for the steps that led to the sea wall and the gate beyond it, because now he had a meeting to attend.

  When Marc reached the office in the caravan that used to belong to Flint, he found John Mundy in the office, he had been looking at a map but put it down and gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk.

  “Marc, please take a seat.”

  He sat down, looking across the desk at John, who was regarding him with deepest compassion.

  “You can quit any time you like,” he told him, “Time is precious for you. Be with Vicki.”

  “I need my job,” Marc replied, “At least for as long as I'm able to work. I'll go crazy if I just sit at home and give up.”

  John paused for thought and then nodded.

  “Okay, if the meds are working and you feel able, that's fine with me. But if you start to feel like you can't do your job, you have to step down. If we get another attack you need to be ready for it, or leave it to those who can deal with it, okay?”

  “Agreed,” Marc replied, “And there's something I'd like to ask... when I do step down as head of security, I'd like Emma to take on my old job.”

  “I'm happy to let her do that, she's well experienced by now in how security is run in this town. If you want her to take the job, she can have it when the time comes.”

  “Thanks,” Marc said, then he got up and held out his hand. As the two men shook on their agreement, Marc smiled.

  “Thanks for letting me carry on. I'm not ready to give up yet.”

  “That's good to know,” John replied, then Marc left the caravan, heading back towards the beach to carry on with his work as head of security and beach patrols.

  Back at the house, Cleo and Greg were home together, making the most of Greg's day off. Vicki had taken Zodiac and Lula over to see the fair. It was open now, not all rides were yet in operation but the weather was good and there was enough going on to keep Zodiac amused and Lula fascinated by the sights and sounds around her. While they had the house to themselves, Greg had stayed in bed, his arms around Cleo as tears ran down his face and he rested his head on her shoulder.

  “He's my best mate! He got me through the start of the apocalypse, I was totally useless back then, I wouldn't have lasted five minutes without him! Even after he found out how I really made my money, he stood by me. I love him like a brother. I can't lose my brother!”

  Cleo turned on her side, wiped away his tears then kissed him tenderly.

  “You can't be like this in front of him.”

  “I know,” Greg said tearfully.

  “Just be strong for him, that's all he needs. And you can definitely do that, Greg. Think about everything you've been through together. You have to be brave when he can't do that any more.”

  “You're right,” he replied, running his fingers through her hair as he looked into her eyes, “But I just can't imagine him gone.”

  “Neither can I,” Cleo replied, “But we have to cope with this.”

  “I'm so glad I've got you,” Greg told her, “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  He pulled her closer and their lips touched. Holding Cleo was all the reassurance he needed that they would get through this together. For a brief time, Greg cast aside his fears for his best friend as he made love to Cleo, thankful to lose himself in the tenderness of her embrace, where for the time he held her, he felt safe from the pain of life.

  Christian was in a state of shock as he stood there in the isolation room, where the bed was empty, tubes and lines were scattered discarded and there was Harvey Flint, fully dressed and sitting on top of the covers, resting against a pillow.

  “How... how did you get those clothes?” Christian stammered.

  “I went back to the caravan. I remembered it was mine... I don't remember much else. My mind...” he paused, placing fingertips against his temple, “It's so empty... I...I'm afraid. Help me, Doctor Wells!”

  “You remember me?”

  As he took a step closer, he noticed the confused, almost frightened look in Flint's eyes. Clearly, his mind was still intact but his memory was gone. If he could not recall running this town, perhaps his mind was like a blank slate in many ways. Could this be too good to be true? The serum had wiped his mind, leaving only fragments of memory, names, places, but no actual events? Did he not recall the zombie circus or how he used to run this town? All shred of ruthlessness seemed to be gone, replaced by a new vulnerability he had never seen in the man before. Until now, he could not have imagined it existed. At least he wouldn't need his gun, which was locked away in the desk drawer back in his office. One look at vulnerable, broken Flint told him the man would never pose a threat again...

  “Please help me!” Flint's voice trembled, “I came back here because I didn't know what else to do! Why do I have scars? Why do I have nightmares about zombies attacking me? What did I do to deserve that?”

  Tears formed in his eyes as he fixed his bewildered gaze on the doctor.

  “What do you remember?” Christian asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Christian was looking at him intently. There was not a trace of dishonesty about his reply.

  “Do you remember Cleo?” he asked.

  “Who?” said Flint. At the back of his mind, anger burned darkly as that urge rose up to let the transformation blink into view, to swiftly turn from Flint to Zombie Flint and tear off Christian's head and drink every warm spurt of red that pumped from his neck. But he needed him for now, he was the key to being accepted around here, to gaining access to the community once more without someone putting a bullet in him...

  “Do you recall anything about your life before you woke up?” Christian asked.

  “No,” Flint said in a hushed voice, “But I recall you... and Greg...is he a friend of mine?”

  Christian fell silent. Clearly, he would have to talk to John Mundy about this unexpected development. He couldn't reveal anything to Flint, in case a few random facts set off a cascade that brought everting back...

  “You need to get some rest,” he replied, “I want you to lie back and relax, just rest and sleep and perhaps more will come back to you... I'd better let the others know you're awake. You can't have visitors
yet.”

  “What happened to me?” Flint asked.

  Christian looked at him, seeing no trace of the man he used to be, it was as if Flint's mind had been rewritten.

  “You were attacked by the undead,” he replied, “And I was able to use an experimental serum on you to halt the virus and bring you back. Your wounds have healed well and you seem in good shape. I'm sorry about your memory, but I guess these things can't be done without side effects.”

  “What serum?” Flint asked, still keeping up the act of sounding utterly confused.

  “An experimental formula taken from an abandoned laboratory. We know little about it so your recovery is rather a mystery.”

  At the back of his mind, Flint was piecing it all together: He had been killed by Greg, who used the undead to do the job for him. But for some unknown reason, after he had transformed, Christian had chosen him to test this new serum.. maybe when this was over he would spare Christian's life. Just him, all the others would die...

  “Thanks for helping me,” Flint said, then he laid back down, resting as he gave a sigh, faking exhaustion as he closed his eyes.

  “You rest,” Christian replied, making quickly for the door, “I have some work to attend to and then I shall inform the others of your recovery. Sleep well, my friend.”

  He left the isolation chamber, locking the inner, then outer door firmly, before taking a deep breath as he fought off a wave of panic. Flint was truly alive in every way. That had not been his intention when he had used the zombie as his experimental guinea pig. Worse still, he couldn't recall his old life. That made putting a bullet in him unjustified, all trace of the man he used to be was gone. Flint had become...harmless? It was time to own up to his error on administering the serum. He also had to admit to the fact that Flint was back, and a changed man. This would be hard to handle, it was a situation that had not been planned for.

  Christian went out to the reception, apologised to waiting patients and said that the surgery would be closed early due to unforeseen circumstances, and then as the girl on reception shot him a confused look he left the building, now on the way to the fairground to explain a situation that was entirely his fault. When John Mundy heard about it, he knew he would not be a happy man.

  While Christian was on his way to the fair, Harvey flint smiled as he lay back on the bed, stretching the scar that ran deep into his cheek as his eyes glittered darkly. So far his plan was working. He had the doctor on his side, next he had to get Mundy on his side. After that... the zombie would roar. And then he did, as the fire rose inside him and the call of blood and yearning for the taste of flesh rose, he whipped his head from side to side as he became Zombie Flint, yelling out the cry of the hungry dead. Then he snapped his head to the side, at once feeling the power slide back into a hiding place deep inside. He was human once more, and learning how to control the zombie within...

  “What the bloody hell have you done?” John raged as he rose from his desk and glared at Christian, who stood the other side of it, looking at him apologetically.

  “The notes were almost coded, very hard to decipher! When I finally worked out I'd given him too much serum it was too late!”

  John gave a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair as he glanced to the window, where beyond it he had a view of the fairground up and running, the circus tent was open, it was now a family show, long gone were the horrors Flint had inflicted on this town...

  “You said you wanted to use the zombie as an experiment! You've brought back Flint, and you're telling me he's a changed man? What the hell difference does that make to people around here? They'll want to kill him on sight!”

  “Then maybe you can explain to all those who can spread the word... tell them Flint's changed by the treatment. His mind is wiped. He knows nothing of the life he used to lead here! He's vulnerable, John!”

  On hearing those words John laughed in disdain and shook his head.

  “Vulnerable? That murdering bastard who drenched this town in blood? The guy who had my crew killed to take over Circus?”

  “And his crew are gone. They chose to follow you.”

  Anger still burned in John's eyes.

  “He used zombies and undead body parts as decoration and even used them in acts in the circus! Do you think people will forget how they were forced to sit and watch that shit, pretending to enjoy it in case they got shot for not applauding?”

  “He's not the same man,” Christian said again, “You should see him, John! Just come and see him. Flint's altered forever. I don't believe he will ever be a threat again. He can't remember anything of the past. He even asked me if Greg was his friend!”

  A flicker of surprise registered in John's eyes.

  “He really said that?”

  “I have no reason to lie! I'm being honest with you!”

  “And you should have been honest about messing up the serum dose.”

  “I have a small amount left,” Christian told him, “It could be enough to use for research and perhaps in time we can manufacture more of it – and with Flint the way he is, I can easily observe him and monitor his condition. We could still learn so much. Flint could end up being the key to curing the virus. Anything is possible.”

  John considered his words and then nodded.

  “Okay,” he replied, “We'll go over to the medical centre right now. I need to see this with my own eyes.” Then the two men left the caravan, taking the path that led to the road where John's armoured car was parked close by.

  Far out at sea, deep below the deck of the Apocalyptic Queen, as Cora sparked a cigarette lighter, Alex Casper screamed. Captain Hazlewood looked on, as the flame heated the needles in Casper's testicles and the smell of singed pubic hair filled the air. Cora had used his nuts as a pin cushion and now she had finished heating the needles she started doing the same to the pins that were pushed through his nipples. Casper had wet himself more than once, he was bathed in sweat and his hair was soaked with it. Tears streamed down his face and he was on the brink of another collapse – cold water in his face had brought him around twice for more pain, and as his last agonised scream filled the room, she extinguished the flame as he stood there tied to the frame, trembling as he looked pleadingly at Hazlewood.

  “Make... it..stop!”

  Are you ready to talk?” Hazlewood asked.

  His heart and mind no longer ruled his choices, pain did. Alex gave a sob.

  “Yes!”

  Hazlewood stepped closer. The woman who had tortured him was leaving now. As she walked away Alex realised with horror she had left the needles in his body.

  “I will ask, you will answer,” Hazlewood said to him, “Understood?”

  Alex nodded, giving another weakened sob.

  “I'll talk, just please stop hurting me, please... I want Emma...”

  He sobbed again, weakly, feeling every last throb of agony linger as he wished he could have been stronger – but he had never known pain like this could exist.

  “Now start talking,” Hazlewood said to him, “Starting with your leader Mr Mundy... how many men does he have under his command? Tell me about the weapons, too. Then tell me about the industrial plant and what it manufactures. Tell me everything.”

  He did. Just like the captain had predicted, he stood there fixed to that torture device and trembled as he spoke in a voice made hoarse from screams of pain and he did sing like a bird. He told him absolutely everything...

  Chapter 5: Back from the Grave

  John Mundy was staring in disbelief at the man who rested on the bed in the isolation room. It seemed impossible, but he was looking at Harvey Flint, who was a shadow of his former self. No trace of aggression, no reminder of how dangerous he used to be... Looking into his eyes, all he saw was confusion. This guy was harmless, it seemed. It was as if the serum had put him back together differently. His memory of the past was gone.

  “You don't recall anything?” John asked as he stood next to his bed.

&n
bsp; “Nothing,” replied Harvey as he rested on top of the covers, “But... I do vaguely recall being killed by zombie attack – its a feeling more than a memory. And I know Greg Fitzroy was there.”

  John and Christian exchanged a glance.

  “You remember Greg? I thought you didn't recall anyone?” Christian asked.

  Flint paused, as if searching his thoughts as he kept up his pretence.

  “I asked you if he was a friend of mine. I believe he must have saved me from the zombie attack. I mean, If I'd died I wouldn't be here.”

  “You were infected,” Christian reminded him, “The serum reversed the viral effects.”

  “Did Greg save me?” he demanded.

  “We're not sure who found you,” John replied, sparing Christian the task of answering an awkward question, “But since recovering you have been here in isolation. Understand the serum was an experiment not of our making – but testing it on you was our idea. It gave you a chance. But Christian will have to monitor you for a long time to be sure it's as effective as it seems.”

  “Can I return to the fair? I remember, I had a caravan there -”

  “No,” John told him, “You can't go back there. You see a few months ago, there was a lot of trouble here over leadership. People chose sides. It's not the harmonious place it seems on the surface. You really do need to remain here until Christian is sure you're well enough and ready to leave.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Flint replied, “And I do hope I can meet with Greg soon. I feel very warm in my heart towards that man. I'm sure he must have saved my life.”

  Christian forced a smile.

  “I'll bring you some lunch soon,” he replied, “Until then, we have business to attend to... please, get some more rest.”

  “But I have so many questions!”

  “And they will have to wait, Flint,” Christian replied, then the two men left the room and Flint listened as the door was locked. Then he heard the outer door lock too, as he let his act slip and he glared towards the closed door as he thought of Greg Fitzroy, the man who had stolen Cleo, then seen him over thrown as leader before having him chained in the zombie brothel to be torn apart by his own undead whores...