The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  Greg raised an eyebrow. “You pray? You believe in God?”

  “Yes, I believe in God. It is the only thing that keeps me going in here.”

  “That is good,” said Greg.

  WC-00 turned and grinned at him. “Yes, I have to believe in God, because the thought of standing before him one day and demanding answers for my pointless existence is the only thing with which I have to look forward.”

  Greg sighed. Religion could be a comfort to those who accepted it. It could also be fuel. Fuel for rage and hatred. His own belief was that a lack of religion in any way was the only way for society to occupy a rational middle-ground – but that was a conversation for another time and place.

  “You’re a well-spoken man, WC-00.”

  “Call me Welsh. I have never possessed a name, but that serves me better than an ID code.”

  Greg nodded. “Okay…Welsh. How did they educate you here?”

  “Books, videos, interactions with men behind the glass. There is little else to do in here other than educate oneself. I like to know about the world that has been denied to me.”

  “Perhaps one day you will get to see it.”

  Welsh let out a long, bitter sigh. “That is a very cruel thing to suggest. Do not attempt to dangle impossibilities in front of me, Doctor. I have no time for hope.”

  “Everyone must have hope.”

  “Is that why you opted to spend your life three hundred feet below the ground? Despair lives beneath us and hope is in the clouds. It appears that you have gone the wrong way, Doctor.”

  Greg shifted in his seat. The man in the cage had a way of voicing things in an unsettling tone. His speech patterns were unusual – the product of having no native upbringing.

  “I am here to do good,” he said. “To give hope to others. That is my hope.”

  Welsh cackled. “There is no hope here. This is a factory of suffering. The only reason I live is so that men like you can try to understand me, to harness the invisible death that writhes across my skin. I am a weapon, Doctor Penn. Many things in this basement of monstrosities are weapons, but I am the most destructive. Yet, your thousands of blood tests, your endless experiments on me, have all been fruitless. My being is beyond your understanding. I am above anything you can achieve merely by existing. I am plague.”

  Greg considered Welsh’s words and was disconcerted to recognise traits of self-aggrandisement. When there was no normal outlets to gain self-esteem, a person would turn their world-views inwards – convince themselves that they are above those around them. It was an unhealthy belief-system.

  “You keep referring to yourself as plague? Why do you do that?”

  Welsh shook his head and snickered, as if the answer was obvious. “Dr Penn, if you were to step inside this cell with me, your eyeballs would melt in your head. Your fingernails would shrivel and decay. Your blood would thicken in your veins and your skin would slide from your muscles like heated marzipan. To face me, man to man, would mean certain death. I make all other diseases quake in their boots. If I am not plague personified, then what am I? Should I ride a horse and carry a quiver on my back. Would that convince you of what I am?”

  Greg rubbed at his eyes. The man before him should have been a wilting neurotic after so many years of isolation, but instead he viewed himself almost as a god. “You believe you are one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse?”

  Welsh stood from his chair and headed over to the glass. “It was just a metaphor, Doctor, but my destiny was indeed great. If not for the actions of a squad of doomed servicemen on that grassy hilltop where they found me, I would not have been one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse…I would have been the apocalypse itself.”

  “And yet, here you are, impotent and alone. Your destiny is no longer yours to decide.” The comment was mean spirited, but Greg could not help it. Hearing the arrogant and fatalistic words of the man in front of him made him angry. It almost sounded like Welsh wished he had spread his dreaded plague.

  Come on, Greg. It’s hardly surprising that he has a grudge against humankind. He’s spent his entire life as a lab rat. What capacity of love would he ever have been given?

  “Destiny takes a lifetime, Doctor. It is determined by a journey’s ending, not by its beginning. Would you not agree?”

  Greg thought about his own life. His beginnings had been bleak, yet bearable. His recent past had been even grimmer. He liked to think that his life’s journey could get better. Maybe it really was only the end of one’s life that counted.

  “You are looking at me with great interest, Doctor,” said Welsh. “But I assure you there are no secrets here…at least none that you could comprehend.”

  “I’d like to try,” said Greg, more determined than ever. He had a desire to hear this man thank him. He wanted to show Welsh what gratitude was. The only way to do that would be by…

  “I’m going to cure you,” he said.

  Welsh laughed, loud and hard. “Cure me from what? I am what I am. I need no cure. It is you who needs to evolve. I cannot be made sick by any organism or germ, and yet you seek to cure me? That is rich indeed, Doctor.”

  “I want to help you,” said Greg, exasperated by the bitterness in Welsh’s manner.

  “Help yourself, Doctor. You need it more than I.”

  Greg stood up. “Suit yourself, but I assure you that one day you will get out of here and you’ll thank me.”

  Welsh examined him carefully through the glass. “Well, if that ever does happen, Doctor, perhaps I will thank you…but you, on the other hand, will be begging me.”

  ***

  “Has he ever tried to escape?” Greg asked his team as they sat in his office together.

  “No, never,” said Wilson. “Which I suppose is strange. It would be impossible for him to get out, though.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “Aren’t you, sir?” asked Button with a hint of accusation.

  Greg shrugged. “I know that this is a very secure facility, but you think he would have at least tried to escape once during his forty years here. The way he talks about destiny and his superiority, I would think it drives him crazy being locked up.”

  Fenton folded his hands in his lap. “How do you drive a crazy person crazy? I’m sure a sane person would be beside themselves, but he is not a normal human being. Nothing about him is suspect to the normal rules of the human condition, from his personality right down to his very cells.”

  Greg cleared his throat and leant forward in his leather chair. “So what treatment have we tried?”

  Dr Button answered. “We’ve tried mapping his genome, to try and identify where the virus is located and target it directly. That failed. We have tried every antibiotic in existence. They failed. We have tried full blood transfusions and organ transplants. Failure. We have tried radiation therapy and various chemical treatments. Fail-”

  “Failure. I get it,” said Greg. “So do any of you have any ideas how to proceed?”

  “Yes,” said Button. “We spend our times on projects with a future. You need to understand that in regards to WC-00 we are nothing more than glorified hospice nurses. No one has ever been able to make sense of him and, when he is dead, we should all just be grateful that the only known source of the Welshchild disease will die with him.”

  “What about his improved immune system? Has anyone come close to replicating it?”

  Wilson shook her head. “We don’t even understand it, let alone have any chance of replicating it. His white blood count is the same as anybody else’s. We can’t explain how he fights off infection. Previous Doctors have theorised that the Welshchild virus is hostile to other pathogens. It may be what fights off the illness.”

  Greg scratched his chin and stretched out his legs. He was feeling tired, but he was too excited to retire to his apartment. “This man is amazing. If only we could unlock his secrets.”

  “Just forget about it,” said Dr Button. “He’s a lost cause to all but tho
se who created him.”

  Greg stood up and towered over his team. “Now listen here, Dr Button. I am in charge here. I will decide whether or not something is a lost cause. I want all three of your working on WC-00 for the foreseeable future. All other projects on hold.”

  Wilson objected. “Do you know how close this lab is to curing Malaria, HIV, even cancer? You want us to just…stop?”

  “Do you not understand?” Greg shouted. “If we understand this man’s immune system, there will be no need for a cure to malaria, or anything else for that matter. We will be the saviour of millions of people, billions for the years to come. This has to be our priority. Welsh Child Zero Zero is the key to a new, wonderful future for mankind.”

  Greg’s team shifted in their seats and looked at him anxiously. They seemed unhappy at his request, but also a little buoyed by his enthusiasm.

  Greg smiled at them all in turn. “We can be heroes,” he said. “Heroes.”

  ***

  Days later and Greg was ready to get started. The planning stages were complete and it was time to start performing tests.

  “There’s no reason to go in there,” Dr Button told Greg. “We have more tissue samples then we will ever need.”

  Greg pulled the positive pressure suit over his body from the feet upwards and started to fasten the seals. Dr Wilson helped him attach the gloves to the suit and lock the bracelets. “We’re starting from scratch, Dr Button. I want fresh samples so I know that we are working with pure and up-to-date results. We shouldn’t take anything for granted concerning this man.”

  Dr Button handed him the suit’s helmet. “Fine. Just be quick and just be careful. Wilson and Fenton are both on lunch break. If something happens there’s only me to help you.”

  Before Greg put the helmet on, he frowned at the doctor. “Careful?”

  “Yes. It’s been a while since anybody went inside, so be prepared. We don’t know for sure how Welsh will react.”

  Greg fastened a utility belt around his waist and plugged it into the suit’s input jack. “I can handle it,” he said into the helmet’s speaker.

  Dr Button checked Greg’s suit as he turned a full circle, checking for tears. When he was satisfied, they inflated the suite and Greg turned around, clomping towards the WC-00 airlock.

  A vinyl tunnel had been erected inside to allow uncompromised entry into the glass cell. Welsh sat in the middle of the room, expectantly. Greg stopped in the tunnel midway and waited for the chemical shower to douse him. Once that was done, he proceeded to the glass cell. There was a key pad ahead and he quickly activated it. The door unlocked and slid sideways with a hiss.

  He stepped inside.

  Welsh observed him quietly, almost seeming uninterested.

  “Dr Penn. How lovely for you to visit.”

  Greg laughed. “Less of the Hannibal Lector act. I’m here to help you.”

  Welsh looked confused. “Hannibal Hector?”

  “Never mind. How are you feeling?”

  “I can’t get sick. I feel fine, as always.”

  “I meant in yourself, emotionally? Are you still feeling…resentful?”

  “I do not resent,” Welsh said. “I just hold people responsible for their actions.”

  Greg decided to ignore the evasive answers and just get on with things. He wasn’t sure if Welsh even had the capacity to share on an emotional level. “I would like to take some tissue samples from you, if that is okay?”

  “By all means. Did something happen to the other thousand samples that you already have?”

  Greg opened up a pouch on his right arm and plucked out a syringe. “I’d just like to start fresh. It would ease my mind knowing that I have the very best samples available to me.”

  “So that you can use me to cure the world?”

  Greg nodded. It was a clunky movement inside the helmet. “You are an amazing specimen, Welsh. You could be the key to a new future. A world without sickness and disease.”

  Welsh turned to the television and sighed. “And my reward for that is a lifetime of incarceration.”

  “If this works, you would be able to leave.”

  “I don’t think so. By the time you even came close to understanding me, I would be an old old man. Many scientists have worked on me before you, Dr Penn. Better, smarter scientists.”

  The comment irritated Greg but he would not allow it to distract him. Whether Welsh believed it or not, he was trying to do good. The fact that success would effectively make him the saviour of the world was just a hefty bonus.

  Welsh sat still while Greg took his blood. He placed the full syringe into an airtight rubber seal, which he then placed back into the pouch on his arm. Saliva swabs and even ear wax samples followed. Greg also took some of Welsh’s hair and fingernail clipping.

  Greg glanced at the television and saw that the news was on as usual. Riots in the Middle East were raging. He wondered if the region would finally find peace one day, and if maybe one day his work would help towards it.

  Would people still fight in a world without disease?

  With his first round of tests all complete, Greg prepared to leave the cell. Before he did, however, Welsh reached out and grabbed his wrist.

  Greg looked down at Welsh’s fingers around his arm and frowned. “What are you doing? Please let go of me.”

  Welsh looked him in the eye. “I just wanted to say thank you. I understand that you want to help.”

  Greg smiled. “I told you that one day you would thank me.”

  Welsh grinned right back. “And I told you that one day you would beg me.”

  Greg’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry?”

  “You really should be more careful.” He pointed at Greg’s elbow.

  Greg’s eyes went so wide he thought they might fall out of their sockets. His heart pulsed and his lungs went stiff.

  No, no, no….

  The tear on the left elbow of his suit was minute. But it was there. He was compromised. The positive air pressure might be enough to save him, but…

  “I…I…”

  Welsh laughed. “How very unfortunate. You had such high hopes.”

  Greg staggered backwards and was surprised when somebody caught him. It was Dr Button. He was not wearing a suit at all.

  “Button! Are you insane? Why the hell are you in here without a suit? We need to quarantine this whole level. I…I may be infected.”

  “Oh believe me, you are,” said Dr Button. “You have no idea how contagious this disease is. A thimbleful is enough to infect a billion people. It truly is remarkable.”

  “Wh…what are you babbling about? We’re going to die. We have to make sure nobody else does. You’re insane exposing yourself like this.”

  Dr Button just laughed. “Don’t worry, I was exposed a long time ago. I’m immune, Dr Penn. We all are.”

  Greg was struggling to breathe. The panic was like nothing he had ever felt before. He needed to get the hell out of the cell, away from the virus, but he couldn’t. He could have the disease. “What do you mean, you all are?”

  “The people I work for. The people who tried to release this virus to the world more than thirty years ago. We have been preparing. Billions will die, but we will go on. The world will be rebuilt. The world will be better. We are ready to see that change. It’s been a long wait, but now it is finally here.”

  “You’re insane. Fucking insane! Where are Wilson and Fenton?”

  “I already told you,” said Dr Button. “They’re taking their break. Although, I think they may have eaten something that didn’t agree with them. I’d imagine they’re in quite an amount of discomfort right now. It won’t last long, though, so don’t worry. They will be dead long before the virus eats their flesh. They are the lucky ones.”

  Greg lashed out, went to grab a hold of Dr Button’s neck. But Welsh leapt up and grabbed him in a chokehold. Greg grunted and heaved as his throat was restricted. “Pl….please. Don’t do this. Don’t…please.”r />
  “Sounds like begging to me,” Welsh whispered in his ear.

  Dr Button shook his head pitifully as Greg began to fade. “You wanted so much to make the world better. Well, don’t worry; you will have your wish granted. You just won’t be around to see it.”

  Greg struggled with his last ounces of strength. “You’ll never get out of here. They’ll…stop you…”

  Dr Button just smiled. “Once I release the virus into the entire facility, all I will have to do is wait a while. Welsh and I will walk right out of here. Then our true work begins. Of course I will disable all outgoing communications first. Wouldn’t want the world getting warning.”

  Greg’s vision was growing dark. The blood vessels in his forehead felt like they might pop. “Why…are…you…doing…this?”

  Button opened his arms wide, like he was a preacher on a pedestal. “Because, Dr Penn, we…are…plague.”

  Forty-eight hours later and everybody was dead. Welsh and Button walked right on out of the facility and got into a car waiting for them nearby. Welsh wanted to see London first.

  THE PEELING: BOOK 4

  (THE LIGHTS)

  The camp had been free of infection for almost two weeks, but the lights in the sky were making everybody nervous. The blinking green orbs had appeared only days before and had been hanging in the sky every time night fell. Every day when dusk approached, the members of the camp would wait with bated breath to see if the lights would still be there. Every evening it would become clear that the lights were not going away. If anything, they seemed to be getting closer – lower in the sky.

  Gretchen looked out from her perch atop the roof of the ambulance and surveyed the rest of the camp. She and nineteen other survivors had gathered together inside a roadside hotel. The adjacent restaurant had provided them with some food supplies and ample amounts of beer and soft drinks. The hotel itself was newly constructed and gave them all the safety of communal living while also providing everyone with the privacy of their own room. They had blocked up the road to the hotel and kept a constant vigil for any other survivors that may have been lurking in the nearby area.