Ward Z

by Amy Cross

"It hurts," she says quietly, clutching her belly. "What's happening to me?"

  "You're sick," I tell her, "but I've got some good news. You might be the one who helps us beat this thing."

  Emma Briggs

  She's still out there, still trying to get through the door. I can hear her scratching at the wood, like a dog that's getting closer and closer to a bone. Eventually, she'll find a way inside.

  I've tried everything. I've even attempted to pull open the window, but it's locked and, anyway, we're up on the top floor of the hospital. Even if I could get out there, I wouldn't be able to escape. I'd just be stuck on the ledge.

  Staring at the door, I listen to the scratching sound. It's as if she's trying to scrape the wood away, a flake at a time, and there's nothing I can do to stop her. If no-one comes to help me, I have to either stay in here forever or open the door and try to run past the creature. Either way, I don't think I'll have much of a chance. I wish I'd never come to the hospital. I wish I was brave.

  This is all Mummy's fault.

  Dr. Andrew Page

  "Look!" I say, holding up several of the swab kits so that Lincoln can see them through the window. "It works. I've identified nine patients who have the disease, but that still leaves a few who can be saved."

  "Good job."

  "It's based on enzymes in the liver," I continue. "For whatever reason, this cancer seems to have trouble controlling the liver. That's why the creatures have yellow eyes, and I'm convinced that anyone whose liver passes this test must be uninfected."

  "Fascinating. We'll follow that up."

  "And the ones who are clear," I continue, fully aware that I have to at least try this approach first, even if I know it won't work, "can be allowed to leave."

  "Never gonna happen," he replies, staring at me with steely resolve. "Your test is all well and good, Dr. Page, but it doesn't prove anything. It's useful, and maybe down the line it could be the basis for a proper test, but right now we can't -"

  "How long do we have?" I ask.

  "Until what?"

  "Until you call in the missiles or the bombs or whatever the hell else you're going to use on this building."

  "I don't know what -"

  "Don't bullshit me!" I continue, raising my voice. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that the patients are listening intently to the conversation. I guess they know pretty much everything now. "How long?" I ask again, turning back to face Lincoln. "I can prove to you that this test works. Just let me know how long I've got! At least give me the courtesy of letting me know when you're planning to kill us all."

  He pauses, and it's clear that he's debating whether or not to say anything.

  "We're both scientists," I remind him. "If nothing else, this is part of the work. I can still be useful, even in the limited amount of time that we've got left."

  "You have..." He pauses again. "Two hours," he says finally. "That's when the strike is scheduled."

  "Two hours?" I reply, shocked that the deadline is so close. "I need longer! There are live specimens in here! This kind of opportunity might never present itself again!"

  "Two hours," he says firmly. "There's no way it can be delayed. The situation is deteriorating rapidly, and no-one wants to wait too long."

  "Fine," I say, taking a deep breath. "I'll prove to you that -"

  "Maybe you should try to make peace," he replies, interrupting me.

  "Make peace?" I ask. "With who?"

  "Yourself. Whoever." He pauses again. "I don't know, whatever the cliche says. The point is, there's nothing that can be done now, Dr. Page. The cards have been dealt and I'm sorry, but you and your patients were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "Maybe," I reply, "or maybe not. Maybe I'm in exactly the right place at the right time."

  "If this condition gets out of hand," he says firmly, "there won't be a right place or a right time anywhere on the planet. This could become a major pandemic. Billions could die."

  "But their bodies would live on," I point out, "albeit with different aims and a different purpose."

  "Careful," he replies. "It sounds like you're starting to see this from the cancer's point of view."

  "Maybe that's a useful way to look at it," I tell him. "Maybe -"

  "I'll take all of this on-board," he says, interrupting me. "For now -"

  "I just need one more sample of iodine," I reply, determined to keep my work going for a little while longer. "Can you at least swing that for me? One sample of iodine, and I could theoretically demonstrate the truth about this cancer." I wait for him to reply. "One drop," I add. "What's so bad about that? Just give it to me and let me see if I can make this leap. What's the worst that can happen? You waste a single sample of iodine. But the best that could happen... I might be able to show you how to stop these creatures. If you genuinely have any respect for me at all as a doctor and as a scientist, I'm begging you, give me this one final chance to help."

  He stares at me for a moment. "I'll see what I can do," he says eventually. "I can't promise anything, though. There's not much time. We have to evacuate the area an hour before..." His voice trails off.

  Hearing a groaning sound nearby, I look over my shoulder and see that June Carey and another patient, Donald White, are both getting much worse. I still don't know how fast this cancer develops, but it's clear that sooner rather than later, there are going to be two more of these zombie-like creatures on the ward. Then again, if I open them up and remove the tumors quickly, we might at least be spared the horror of having to face them before the end comes.

  "There's something else I should tell you," Lincoln says, with a hint of regret in his voice. "This is kinda difficult, but... That offer I made a while back, about letting you leave the ward and come to work at the facility... I received notice a few hours ago from my higher-ups, informing me in no uncertain terms that the offer is no longer available. I'm sorry. I guess they think that you're just too much of a risk. I don't know if you were thinking about changing your mind, but the offer's not on the table."

  I stare at him.

  "It's not my choice," he continues. "I don't know if you were rethinking your decision, but I figured I should let you know... I can't get you out of this place. Not now."

  "But I'm irreplaceable," I reply, convinced that someone must have made a mistake. "I only stayed here so I could work directly with the creatures, but when you pull out, you have to take me with you."

  "I'm sorry," he says calmly.

  "No," I reply. "I'm the goddamn expert on this thing. You said it yourself. My work is the basis for your whole investigation -"

  "And we're grateful for that," he replies, interrupting me, "but there's no way I can get you out of there. Not now."

  I take a deep breath, trying to work out what I can say to change his mind.

  "I'll prove it to you," I say eventually.

  "Dr. Page -"

  "Two hours?" I continue. "That's a long time. I can do this in two hours."

  "You can cure cancer in two hours?"

  "I can cure this condition," I reply, "whatever it is. You'll see. I can do it, and -"

  Before I can finish, Donald White lets out a howl of pain. It's clear that he doesn't have long left, and at this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if he develops further symptoms within the next hour. Hurrying over to take a closer look, I pull his shirt up and immediately spot the tell-tale swelling on the right side of his abdomen. I guess I'll be getting a new specimen soon.

  "Is that it?" Anthony asks, standing nearby. "Is that the thing that's causing all this?"

  "We need to get this man to the examination room," I reply, before looking over at June and seeing that her yellow eyes are staring back at me. "And her, too. We need to remove the tumors as quickly as possible."

  "And then what?" Anthony asks.

  "Then?" I pause as I realize that, with only a couple of hours left before the entire hospital is destroyed, there's precious little time left. Hearing a banging sound furth
er along the corridor, I glance over at one of the doors and see that Dominique Ribery is still trying to break through, although she's isn't making any obvious progress. "Then we wait," I add.

  "To die?"

  "Help me," I continue, grabbing Donald's feet. "Take his arms and help me carry him through. Whatever else happens, we need to ensure that this thing doesn't progress to the next stage, or we'll end up with another of those creatures in our midst."

  "What about the rest of us?" asks one of the other patients. "What are we supposed to do?"

  "Just wait here," I say firmly.

  "For what? We've already been waiting for so long!"

  "I'll be back soon," I continue. "We'll work something out. Those of you who've tested negative for the disease need to stay clear of the rest. It's for your own benefit, and it might..." I pause as I realize that, once again, I'm probably giving them false hope. With no firm data about how this disease spreads, I'm just taking a wild stab in the dark. "Just try to stay in two groups," I add. "For now, at least."

  "And the ones who've got it?" June asks wearily from her chair, clearly struggling to deal with the pain in her abdomen. "What are we going to do? I don't want to turn into one of those things. You have to stop it. Whatever you need to do, just do it, but don't let me be one of them."

  "The only way to -"

  "Even if you have to kill me," she continues. "Anything. Just don't let me turn into one of those monsters. I couldn't take that."

  "I'll be back for you in a moment," I say, as Anthony and I carry Donald White along the corridor.

  "Are you going to kill her?" Anthony asks.

  "I wish I could," I reply, "but we've still got two hours to work out what the hell these things are. I intend to use that time wisely, rather than sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I should have spent the past ten years studying this phenomenon, but instead I allowed myself to waste away. Now I've got two hours to catch up. It's not going to be easy, but I've got some ideas and I need you to help me."

  "And then when the two hours are up?" Anthony replies as we reach the examination room and place Donald on the table. "We're going to die, aren't we? They're going to blow this whole place up with us inside. They'd rather do that than risk letting any of us out, even the healthy ones like you and me."

  "Anthony -"

  "It's true, isn't it?" he continues, starting to sound as if he's panicking. "We're just numbers on a screen to them. We're completely disposable."

  "I don't know what they're going to do," I reply, although I immediately realize that I should tell the truth. "It seems that way," I continue. "They have a point. If they let the building stand, or if they let any of us out, the risk of this thing spreading is increased dramatically."

  "And you can just stand there calmly and accept all of this?"

  "It's logical. I've always been able to make the logical choice."

  "Even when it's your own life that's on the line?" he asks. "Even then?"

  I pause for a moment as I realize that he has a point. "Yes," I say finally. "Even when it's my own life that's going to end. I can still see that there's no other way."

  "Then you're a better man than me," he replies. "If I was you, I'd be trying to negotiate a deal."

  "What kind of deal?"

  "To get myself out of here," he continues. "I mean, you're an expert on this kind of thing. If they'd save anyone before blowing the place up, it'd be you."

  I pause for a moment. "They did offer a deal," I tell him, "but then... I turned it down." I take a deep breath. Although I know I should tell him the truth and admit that I probably would have taken the deal if it hadn't been rescinded, it feels good to pretend that I took a more noble course. "I wanted to stay with the patients," I continue, every word a lie. "It was the right thing to do."

  "Jesus," he mutters. "What are you, some kind of saint?"

  "Get me a scalpel from the drawer," I reply, staring down at Donald's pained features. "I need to cut this man open." Taking a deep breath, I figure that despite everything Lincoln said earlier, I still have a chance. I just need to prove beyond all doubt that I'm too valuable to be left here. For the first time in ten years, I feel my old confidence coursing through my veins again. I'm a goddamn genius and I intend to prove that fact to the world.

  Emma Briggs

  I sit on the sofa in Dr. Page's office, staring at the door. It's been a few minutes since I last heard any sign of the angry nurse out in the corridor, and I'm starting to wonder if she's given up on me. If that's true, then maybe it's safe to go out and look for help.

  Still, I wait. At least while I'm in here, I'm safe, because no-one can get through that door. Then again, I'm worried that maybe everyone else will leave, and I'll be stuck here alone with the creature, and then maybe they'll blow the building up. Climbing off the sofa, I run over to the window and look out again: the soldiers have almost all left now, and there are just a few trucks parked outside the front of the hospital. It definitely looks like they're pulling out, which might mean that the danger's over. After all, why else would they go away?

  "Hello!" I shout, banging on the window. "Hello! I'm still in here!"

  No-one replies. They're so far below the window, they look less like actual people and more like ants.

  "Hello!" I shout again, but there's clearly no point. They're getting on with their work, probably thinking that they've got everyone out. Soon, they'll drive away and leave me alone here forever. My only chance is to get down there and make them take me away.

  I turn and look back at the door. If I sit in here forever, I'll get blown up. At some point, I have to go out there again and see if everything's safe. People are always saying I'm brave, but I don't feel brave right now. I feel scared. All I want to do is wait here, and for Daddy to come and shout to let me know that everything's okay. Then again, I figure that since so many people say that I'm brave, maybe I should actually try to be brave. Taking a deep breath, I walk toward the door.

  "Be brave," I whisper, hoping to encourage myself. "Be brave."

  Dr. Andrew Page

  "This is it," I say, pulling the thick white cord out from the meat of Donald White's body. "This is the damn thing that causes the whole problem."

  "A worm?" Anthony asks, staring in stunned horror.

  "Not a worm," I reply, carefully removing the metal pan that contains the tumor I just cut out of Donald's abdomen. As it furiously spews out its toxic black ink, the tumor looks strangely helpless, and I can't help but note that for all its danger, it really has no way of surviving outside the human body. It has evolved to survive in very specific circumstances, which hopefully means that there should be plenty of ways to kill it. The only question is whether it can be made to die without also killing the human host.

  "Is he dead?" Anthony asks, looking down at Donald.

  "His heart couldn't handle the trauma," I reply, examining the severed end of the cord. "The best way I can explain this thing is to say that once the tumor has reached a certain size and maturity, it pushes this cord out through the body, to the brain and the heart, like a kind of secondary nervous system that takes control of the rest of the body. Well, the parts it needs, anyway. Once it's established, it kills the original nervous system and takes complete control."

  "So the cancer becomes the pilot?"

  I nod as I use the tip of the scalpel to peel away the edge of the cord. "This is just a bundle of nerves, but in an extremely compact form. It makes our spinal columns look like old news. Whatever else you might say about this thing, it's highly advanced. Comparing a human body to one of these things is like comparing an old desktop computer to the latest tablet device."

  "Are you sure it's not an alien?" he asks.

  "It's not an alien," I say with a sigh. "Far from it. It's something our own bodies are creating. All the chaotic mayhem of cancer has finally become more focused. I guess this is what it was leading to all along. Millions, billions of permutations finally honed to this mor
e potent form, and now it's on the verge of..." I pause for a moment as the ramifications of this discovery start to sink in. "It doesn't matter," I say eventually. "They can burn this hospital to the ground and incinerate all of us, but it won't stop this thing. Maybe they'll delay it by a few days, but this is already spreading around the globe. It's going to be a pandemic. We need to focus on fighting it, not pretending it's not here."

  "But if -"

  "You've already got it," I say suddenly, interrupting him.

  He stares at me.

  "Back in the corridor," I continue, "when I told you that your swab test was negative, I was lying. There are abnormalities in your liver that make me fairly certain that this thing is already inside you."

  "But that..." He pauses. "I mean, that could be something else, right? I had a few drinks at the weekend, maybe I haven't kept myself in great shape over the years. I mean, hell, a swab test for a liver problem? That's insane anyway, so -"

  "I admit it's something I rigged together at the last minute," I reply, "but I'm convinced that it's accurate. If it makes you feel any better, I tested positive too. Somewhere inside of me, one of these things is growing."

  Staring at the tumor in the metal pan, Anthony seems momentarily unable to take in the information.

  "One of those," he says slowly, as if stunned by the idea. "One of those is... inside me?"

  "Probably not as advanced as this one," I reply. "The one in you is probably at an earlier stage. It's probably smaller, and its invasive qualities might not be so well-developed."

  "Can you cut it out?" he asks.

  "Not right now," I tell him, even though the prospect of experimenting on his body is tempting. "We need to focus on other aspects first."

  "Like a cure?"

  "We've got less than two hours," I reply. "We might both have to make some sacrifices."

  "You think you can cure cancer in two hours?" he asks.

  "I need to go and talk to the military before they pull out," I continue, trying not to let the fear into my voice. "I have to tell them that the breath test really works. It might help..." I wait for him to reply, but the crushing reality of our situation seems to have finally sunk in. "Do you want to come with me?" I ask.