The Sixth Extinction: An Apocalyptic Tale of Survival. (Part Three: Infested.)
Page 5
Melanie stripped out of her wet clothes and left them in a pile. She used the soap dispenser and washed her body as best she could. She filled the sink with warm water and washed her hair. She then used a couple scrub tops to dry her hair and body. She tossed them onto her wet clothes. She used the toilet, and then dressed in warm dry scrubs. They felt so good against her skin. For the first time in hours, she was warm and dry and felt almost human again.
Melanie picked up the folder in the sheaf; it was the only possession she had on her, apart from a thin gold necklace. Her purse and mobile were still resting on her desk in the university.
She gazed into the mirror and saw a bedraggled twenty-three-year-old female dressed in green medical scrubs. Melanie did not recognize herself; she looked like she had aged ten years in half a day. She unlatched the door and returned outside.
If the soldier was confused by seeing her in different clothes, he said nothing.
“Ah, you must be Doctor Lazaro?” A man said who had just pushed through a door that required a pass card. He wore a long white lab coat over faded brown corduroy trousers and an old olive-coloured cardigan over a brown button-down shirt. He was deathly thin and looked about fifty, with a terrible brush over of white hair, and pale loose skin.
There was a racket outside as a group of technicians finished refueling and checking the helicopter. It took off and disappeared into the hazy thick clouds.
“My name is Doctor Albert Hall; I am responsible for the bio lab. Then, as an afterthought added, “I know; my parents had a strange sense of humour when it came to naming their children.” He held out a hand.
Melanie was having the worse morning of her life. She was confused about the people on the flight and worried about the soldiers she had left behind. With everything that had happened, and how long she had been left around waiting with a mute guard; she did not feel like being polite and shaking hands while enjoying chitchat. She ignored the outstretched hand.
“Who were those people on the helicopter with me?”
“Ah, I see. I understand; you’ve had one hell of a morning,” Doctor Hall said as he shouldered the heavy door open that led outside.
Melanie followed.
The soldier stayed in the warm building.
Doctor Hall lit a cigarette. He lifted it up as he said, “You’d think with everything that’s happened that I would be allowed to smoke inside. Nope. People still get upset about smoke drifting into their airspace. Anyone would think I was blowing spores in their direction.” He gave a chuckle. He blew smoke out of his nose as he pressed his back against the concrete wall, while trying to stay dry under the inadequate covering over the door.
The doctor gave Melanie a quick side-glance. “So you’re Doctor Melanie Lazaro. Born May 2 1990 to Edward and Margery Lazaro.
“It was soon discovered, after you took the Cattell IIIB Test that you have an IQ of 157, and considering the world-renowned physicist Stephen Hawkins is 160; it’s not too shabby. You also aced the Cognitive Ability Tests. You excelled at school and were years ahead in all your classes. At the age of ten, you were recognized by the National Association for Gifted Children and Children of High Intelligence and moved to a specialist school for the gifted in Manchester. You passed all your exams with a string of A+’s and at the mere age of thirteen, you were accepted into Cambridge University where you studied three years for your BSc degree in Biomedical Science, and three and a half years for your PhD. I might add that you are one of only four people ever to be accepted into Cambridge at such a young age.” He blew a plume of smoke out his nostrils.
“And while others in your classes – who were many years your senior – were struggling to simply fulfill their coursework, you wrote extra papers on subjects such as DNA sequencing, which were published by science journals the world over.” He took another long drag.
“You could have worked anywhere. You had offers of jobs from all over America, Europe, and South America, and yet you picked Exeter’s University of Biomedical Sciences Department, to be close to your parents, and even moved back in with them.” He scratched at a mole next to his eye.
“You were a golden ticket for Exeter University. They were swamped with grants once word spread. You–”
“I know my history,” she snapped. Melanie was a little taken back that he knew so much about her. “What’s my past have to do with anything?”
Doctor Hall stood silent. He continued to blow smoke out into the pouring rain.
Melanie stood under the covering; she did not intend to get wet again after just putting on dry clothes. She noticed the large yellow stains on his two fingers that held the cigarette.
They stood in silence for a minute.
He obviously was not going to tell her why he knew so much about her, so she asked the same question from a few moments ago. “Who were the people on the flight with me? One said something about Adam and Eve.”
Doctor Hall pulled long and hard on the cigarette. He flicked it into the rain. For a moment, he just looked straight ahead. The only sound was the thrashing rain hammering against the helipad.
“They are part of a secret that dates back over one hundred years. A secret our government, and many others the world over, has been hiding from the general population.” He turned to look at her. “Those people are our last hope and our species salvation.”
14
Noah, red, Betty, Lennie, and the Squad
Between Newton Abbot and Bovey Tracy
In the Husky Heading Towards Dartmoor
1:52 PM GMT
Bull kept the Husky well under the truck’s maximum speed of 70 mph. He did not have a choice; the roads were congested with abandoned vehicles and littered objects, and numerous corpses.
The noise of the truck caught the attention of the naked creatures that were wandering, looking for food. Even though the truck was way too fast, they still tried until they were left behind.
Noah sat hugging Red, whose head rested against his shoulder. She was still groggy from being knocked unconscious, but her strength was gaining with each passing mile.
Betty looked like she was sleeping, with her head covered over with her blanket and resting up against the thick bulletproof window. She looked her years, curled up to one side.
Lennie sat hugging Charlie, keeping the small dog dry with his body. There was a large piece of tarp in the back of the truck, and Lennie had it wrapped around him. He had his head uncovered though, because he liked to see the scenery around him, and he liked the sensation of the wind and rain blowing through his hair. He had never been allowed to sit in the back of a truck before. He did not want to miss a thing.
Echo and Coco were knelt next to Lennie, with their rifles ready to be used at a moment’s notice.
The Captain sat with a small device on his lap; it looked like a controller for a game’s console, with a screen on it. It was, in fact, the remote for the large machinegun on the roof.
It did not take long to reach the A38, a four-lane dual carriageway, which was deserted. There were plenty of vehicles wedged up against the embankment or middle reservation, but none of them was moving. All the cars that had been packed weeks before, and drove away from their homes had either reached the destination they intended, or were abandoned along the way when the petrol tank ran dry. Petrol stations ran out of fuel during the first week of the pandemic.
Bull pulled off the motorway up onto an incline leading to a large roundabout. Drumbridges roundabout led to Bovey Straights, a long stretch of straight road over a mile long, with woodland to each side.
In one field, as they passed, Noah could see a group of six or so naked creatures eating what looked like a horse. There was so much blood it was hard to tell. He looked away. He could also see naked blurs running through the woods to either side of the road, attracted by the unfamiliar sound of the large engine.
On the outskirts of Bovey Tracey, or otherwise known as the Gateway to the Moors, there was an industrial park with a
large building in flames. It had been set alight within the last few hours, or something had eventually broken-down from lack of human intervention. The flames danced along the roof. Windows shattered as thick black smoke poured from every broken window. The air smelt of burning plastic.
Bull kept on driving, navigating around groups of abandoned vehicles. Sometimes he had to use the truck’s powerful four-wheel drive to go over grass embankments, or over curbs and along pavements. On a few occasions, he had to reverse and find an alternate road.
At one such point, where about twenty cars all seemed to be in one large collision, Bull was reversing to go up over and around a grass verge, when a group of about thirty creatures seemed to appear from nowhere. The group was a collection of all ages and sizes, from a female child who looked about nine, up to an old man in his eighties.
“Shit!” Bull said while jamming the gear in place. He was not worried about those in the truck, because the armoured shell and windows would deflect even a landmine; he was worried about the three in the back without protection.
The Captain could hear Coco and Echo firing into the mass of surging bodies.
Lennie pulled the tarp over his head.
“Down,” the Captain shouted into the microphone in his gasmask, as he used the remote to spin the automatic machinegun around on the roof.
Coco and Echo ducked as they heard the guns motor kick in.
On the handheld unit, the moving creatures were outlined in red by the most up-to-date military technology. Within seconds, it marked the targets, their speed, and their predicted trajectory. With one simple press of a button, the 12.7 mm bullets ripped into the flesh of the charging mass, starting with the closest and fastest. They were literally cut in half. In was over in less than a minute. The hot bullet casings pinged down onto the wet tarmac.
Bull continued reversing over the shredded bodies; it was a bumpy ride.
After another roundabout, they found themselves heading along narrow hedged crowded lanes.
Red was alert now, and staring out the window. She had not spoken to Noah, but simply snuggled up against him, as if seeking his body heat.
Noah still had his arm around her, as if protecting her from harm.
Betty had not moved in a while. She sat in the corner with her head covered, curled up against the door and window.
The truck raced along the narrow lanes.
A few cars were abandoned along the route, but the truck managed to squeeze through. At one section of the road, where the lane was thin and a car was wedged up against the hedge; Bull had to shunt the car along, crumpling the side panels of the silver Honda Civic so the truck could grind through.
The scenery started to change over just a short distance as the truck started to climb in elevation. The grass became a short hardy moss, covered in bracken and ferns. Hedgerows gave way to old stonewalls, held together by gravity and age. Trees became shorter and robust and covered in moss and vines. On the tall hills, massive jutting out granite boulders the size of houses and some five stories in height looked over the landscape.
The truck drove over stone bridges that spanned a diversity of waterways, from large, wide, fast flowing rivers, to trickling streams and brooks.
The trees seemed to clump together the higher they drove, as if seeking company. Large tracks of woodland covered the sides of the rolling hills and vales that created long valleys. There were lone houses and farms here and there, surrounded by old stonewalls and barns.
The truck zipped over cattle grids, making the vehicle vibrate.
Noah noticed some naked creatures running in the distance. Some were in groups of ten or more. The most disturbing thing was they all seemed to be running in the same direction. If anyone else had noticed, they kept it to themselves. Noah just hoped it was a coincidence, because they all seemed to be heading in the same direction as them.
15
Doctor Lazaro
Dartmoor National Park
On the Roof of Dartmoor Prison
2:28 PM GMT
“Please follow me,” Doctor Hall said. He turned to the soldier.
“You’re dismissed. I will take Doctor Lazaro from here.”
The guard simply nodded, turned, and walked away, disappearing through a swinging door.
“Ah, is that your findings?” he asked while eyeing the plastic sheaf.
Melanie was still trying to work out what he meant by ‘our species salvation’.
“Sorry?”
“Your findings.”
“Yes.” She seemed to wake up from her daze. “I found the position where the host strain latches onto the human DNA,” she stated while flicking the folder with her wrist.
Melanie looked at the folder. So many had died because of its contents.
If only General Hay had sent the information via the internet before he took me on a tour of the gym, then all of this could have been avoided. But he wasn’t to know a horde was on its way to attack the university. The squad had already been diverted from their supply mission, and they had no idea why I was so important.
“Interesting,” Doctor Hall said. “Of course, we have never tried to find a cure. It was just too impractical once the full implications of Clarkson’s discovery came to light.”
Doctor Hall was leading the way along the corridor to a thick door with a swipe slot next to it. He pulled a passkey from his top lab coat pocket.
“What do you mean; you’ve never tried to find a cure? And who is Clarkson? What discovery?” Melanie asked as the doctor swiped the card, and the door hissed open.
Doctor Hall step into the elevator. He ignored her first question and answered the second.
“Clarkson was a British explorer working for the British Museum in London,” Doctor Hall said as if Melanie needed to be told where the vast museum was located. “In 1898, he found something that changed the way we look at the world.”
Melanie stepped into the lift. “I’ve never heard of Clarkson before.” She noticed that three sides of the lift were made of thick glass.
“Few have. His findings were covered up by the British government and reclassified as top-secret.” With another swipe of the card, a panel slid across to reveal a scanner. Doctor Hall placed his nicotine stained hand on the surface. A green line ran up and down the screen. With a beep, tumblers could be heard falling into place, and then the elevator engaged and started to descend.
“Clarkson was in Tibet, in an area nowadays referred to as the Plateau of Tibet in the Himalayas, in an uncharted valley between Lhasa and the Bhutan border, looking for antiquities to fill the new White Wing that had been completed at the Museum in 1887. He had no specialty, like all the explorers of the time he used his British credentials to bully his way into countries and paid off officials, so he could send back artifacts to his employers.”
The lift was still descending. Melanie had no idea how fast, but it had passed the nine stories of the prison long ago; she was sure they were now deep underground.
“On June 25th 1898, along with his large accompaniment of sherpas and aids, Clarkson discovered an undocumented valley high up in the Himalayas on the border of Bhutan. There, in that deep valley, after they spent two days walking through caves and thin ravines, the fifth pod was discovered.”
Melanie was about to ask what he meant by ‘pod’, when the lift seemed to break free of the concrete walls around them, as the lift started descending down a glass shaft. Melanie was gobsmacked at what stretched out before her eyes.
16
Noah, Red, Betty, Lennie, and the Squad
Dartmoor National Park
In the Husky Somewhere near Widecombe-on-the-Moor
2:31 PM GMT
Red turned to look at Noah. She had a nasty bruise down the left-hand side of her face where she had been tossed against the doorjamb. She still felt dizzy and nauseated. She did not say a word. Nothing needed to be said – for now. At the moment, they both just needed to hold on and have someone close.
It was not like a car crash, where the news was a shock and devastating, and final. Cancer was slow and lingering. Her mother had stage four lung cancer. Ironic considering that neither she, nor anyone else in the house, smoked. Red could see her mother getting weaker and weaker, and thinner. The chemotherapy was slowly killing her. It would be a toss-up between which killed her first, the chemo, or the cancer.
Finally, her mother decided the chemo was not working and refused any more treatment. Now it was simply a matter of waiting.
Her stepfather – who took over raising the two children when her father died in a car crash when Red was ten – sunk deeper and deeper into the bottle, while watching his wife fade away before his eyes. At first, Red felt sorry for him. He was still the breadwinner, having to feed them all. The government helped a little, but the money did not go very far.
After five months, her mother died in her sleep in her bed. She was riddled with sores and as thin as a skeleton.
Within two weeks, things got even worse.
Her stepfather drank more than he ate. He seldom went to work, and he sat all day in front of the television with old photo albums of his wedding day.
Red had to hold the household together. She had to drop out of college to get a job to support them all because the bills were mounting up. Her dreams of becoming a primary school teacher had to go on hold.
Jasmine, her twelve-year-old sister, had no one else to look after her. Their stepfather was a wreck and because their mother was an only child, there were no aunties or uncles to ask for help. The grandparents, on her mother side, had both passed away years earlier. The drunk was all they had.
Red starting working long hours in Newton Abbots Specsavers labs. She worked the polishing machine, where the cut lenses for the glasses went after they were fined. She stood in front of the polishing machine for hours on end, swapping the tools over and placing the lenses in the correct position while checking the PSI pressure and the machines speed. She worked extra hours to rake in as much money as possible.