Oedema: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel

by Stuart Keane

  He'll call back.

  Not gonna happen…

  You heard … that.

  You heard the screams.

  The pain. The death.

  When the phone remained dormant, Nicky dropped the phone to the carpet and blinked, which allowed a fresh tear to roll down her cheek. She stood up and wiped her face with a flailing hand, knowing deep in her breaking heart that she was now a widow. She had full confidence that Oedema, or whatever the fuck the disease was called, had just ripped her husband from her clutches, and that the torrential rain had somehow consumed him.

  She hobbled around the sofa, her unsteady hand padding on the cushions to guide the way, and stooped to the floor to recollect the Glock. She steadied it in her hand, her finger lined along the barrel, and approached her stoic brother.

  She lifted her arm and aimed the gun at Luke, her soggy eyes glassed over, her equilibrium completely shot. She sniffed, and wiped her nose. "Get up."

  Luke didn’t move for a moment, until his eyes flicked upwards and found those of his sister. He blinked, detached himself from his trance, and awkwardly shuffled to his feet. Nicky moved in closer, and shoved the gun against his chest. "Body shot, easiest shot to make, according to you. Tell me, will I miss from this distance?"

  Luke held out his hands. "W … what are you doing?"

  "I want some fucking answers."

  "About?"

  "Oedema. You know about it. More than you're letting on. I want to know the details."

  "I told you everything I know."

  "Bullshit."

  "I'm serious."

  Nicky thumbed back the hammer on the Glock. "I won't ask again."

  Luke sighed, his eyes flicking to the young boy behind Nicky. The child was approaching the two, curious, his young face stained red with tears and exertion. Luke resumed eye contact with his sister, and lowered his hands. "Fine. You want the truth?"

  "Considering I just lost my husband to the disease, the only man who ever loved me, you better start fucking talking."

  Luke sighed. "Oedema is a man-made disease, that part is true. But … we helped develop the earlier strains. It went into development several years ago, with full knowledge of the British Army and full funding from the government. The cover up I mentioned? It's to stop the truth coming out. They wanted to use Oedema to control war-torn areas, third world countries, places like Syria, usher it in as an alternative to the nuclear weapon… but there was one snag."

  Nicky nodded. "Let me guess. No water?"

  Luke nodded. "You've seen the charity adverts, promotions asking for donations. Most of those countries don't have a pot to piss in, let alone any water to create piss in the first place. It was deemed a dud, a waste of resources and time, and shelved Then, we found out that an insurgent stole the last remaining strains and went into hiding. Three years later … well, here we are."

  "So, they used it against us, our own weapon."

  Luke nodded. "No one has as much water as the UK. We're a fucking island … it's the perfect irony that our own weapon has crippled us."

  "Not just us, our whole country, our whole race." Nicky rubbed the barrel of the gun on her throbbing temple, her anger dwelling deep inside. She aimed the weapon at her brother once more. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Classified, remember. I couldn’t."

  "Bullshit."

  "It's the truth."

  Nicky lapsed into a deep silence. A violent sob caught in her throat, and an image of Alex on their wedding day entered her mind's eye. She lowered the weapon, and her arm fell to her side. Luke sniffed, and remained still. He allowed his sister to begin grieving.

  "I have it," she said, finally. "Oedema. This kid … he sprayed me with his water gun."

  Luke narrowed his eyes, remembered witnessing the attack on Nicky, and fought his inner turmoil. Logic prevailed, and came to the forefront of his cloudy brain. "You don’t know that. He could have filled the water tank yesterday."

  "What are the chances?"

  Luke stepped forward. "Very likely. Hey, kid –"

  The child sidled up, slipped the Glock from Nicky's weakened grasp and backed off, the gun clasped in two hands before him, aimed in the direction of the two siblings. The weight of the weapon tested his strength to its limits, and his arms began to waver as the gun become unstable in his grip.

  Luke stepped forward. "Kid … put the gun down."

  The boy shook his head anxiously. "No … no."

  Luke tried again, "It's not a goddamn toy!"

  "No. But my brother's shotgun was, and you shot him anyway."

  "Your brother came at me with a gun. What was I supposed to do?"

  "You saw him talk to me, knew the gun was a fake."

  Luke smiled. He saw the boy flinch at the absurd reaction. "I know … still, he shouldn’t have broken into our house, shouldn’t have tried to scare us. He got everything he deserved. You want to fuck about with guns, this is what you get."

  Nicky stared at her brother. The boy cleared his throat, "It was a toy."

  "A jury wouldn’t see it that way … a delinquent versus one of her Majesty's finest…"

  The kid gulped, the gun wavering in his loosening grip. "How about I just shoot you. Fairs play, and all that."

  "Shoot me? You can't even hold the gun straight."

  The boy stuttered, "I don't c-c-care. I'm a f-f-fast learner."

  Nicky grabbed Luke's arm. "Why are you trying to piss him off?"

  Luke tilted his head to the side. "Because the little shit needs to learn some manners."

  Nicky turned around, exasperated. "He's just a kid –"

  "I'm not a fucking kid!"

  Luke countered, "You're certainly not a man –"

  "Shut up!" the boy screamed.

  Nicky tried again. "He's just a kid. You already shot one, and my husband ... he just died. We don't need any more deaths on our conscience today."

  "What's one more to the tally," Luke uttered, his gaze vacant. "Once you have a dozen on your personal record, including your own service men, the others don't really count. They all blur into one."

  "You don't … you can't mean that," Nicky replied, aghast.

  Luke chuckled. "Don't I?"

  "What is wrong with you?"

  "These kids broke into our house and attacked us. They broke the law. Why are you taking their side?"

  "Because they're kids! They don’t know any better."

  "Everyone is accountable for their actions, Nicky. Otherwise, no one will ever learn the error of their ways."

  "It doesn’t work like that."

  "He just gave you Oedema. Why are you defending him!"

  "You don't know that…" Nicky trailed off.

  The kid lifted his chin. "I filled the tank at lunch time. It's not Odie or whatever, its water from the tap."

  Nicky rubbed her face, and began to cry.

  Luke felt his patience wearing thin, and turned to the child. "Kid, give me the gun."

  "Yeah … so you can shoot me? I don’t think so."

  "It doesn’t belong to you," Luke said.

  "It does now. I just made an upgrade."

  "So, breaking and entering and theft? You're a career criminal in the making." Luke took a step forward. "I won't ask again."

  "Stay away from me, mister."

  "Fuck off, kid. Give me the –"

  The kid fired.

  EPILOGUE

  The grand oak doors opened with a stifled yawn, and through it strolled the Ainsworths.

  Derek Ainsworth paused by the entrance, turned, and addressed a rotund man in a tight blue suit and brown shoes, their secret conversation muted. Julie Ainsworth broke from her husband's side and crossed the third living room with steady footsteps that disappeared into the plush carpet, exuding the natural grace of a movie star, her long coat trailing behind her like a superheroine's cape. She stopped at the far side of the room, and lowered her petit rump onto the cream chaise longue.

  Opposite,
curled up on the matching sofa with a bag of cheese Doritos, sat their young daughter. Julie offered a smile, more business-like than friendly, more professional than motherly, and spoke. "Mia, dear, would you care to tell us what you told Greta?"

  *****

  The front door opened, and Luke Barrett stumbled out into the open for the first time in eleven hours. He studied the empty street through stoic eyes, teetered up the cracked garden path, and, as he reached the front gate, he noted that the lawn of the front garden could do with a trim. He placed a hand on the fence post, and looked at the wavering grass beside him. He remembered the early days in the Army, when he had performed such a task with nothing but a pair of scissors, as part of his training. Even with those fond memories, he couldn’t force a smile.

  He clutched at his shoulder, pouted as he tweaked the muscle with his fingers, and pulled his hand away. He noticed that his forearm was smeared in dry blood, and gazed down at his blood-soaked t-shirt.

  It's not my blood.

  No … the blood belongs to Nicky.

  And the boy…

  *****

  Derek walked across the room, joined his wife, and gently lowered himself onto the chaise lounge. With both parents at her mercy, manicured hands clasped in their laps, fake smiles on their pampered faces, Mia looked up and offered them her best look, and utilised the beautiful blue eyes her parents were so fond of. In the background, she saw Greta smile as she departed the room, and walked past the man in the blue suit.

  Derek addressed his daughter. "Go on, honey. You can tell us."

  Mia bit her lip. "Hannah … she saved my life."

  Julie narrowed her eyes. "Saved your life. How so?"

  "We went to the swimming baths, as we usually do –"

  Julie scoffed at such a notion, cutting her daughter off. "Public swimming baths. Those places are full of nothing but ghastly bacteria and insufferable cretins. How unsightly," she finished, placing a hand on her chin.

  Mia breathed out. "There was a virus in the water, something horrible. It killed everyone in the pool. It melted them."

  Julie snickered. "Preposterous."

  "Now, now, Julie. Let's hear Mia out," Derek replied.

  "Thank you, Daddy." Mia scrunched up her face, found her place, and continued. "So, it melted people, and because the virus was in the water, we couldn’t go in the water, or leave through the front door. Hannah helped me escape by taking me through the kitchen and out into the car park. She took me past the water, and the people it killed. She saved my life."

  Julie sneered, and looked at Derek. "Who's this Hannah she speaks of?"

  Derek chuckled. "Miss Carleton Millar, Mia's babysitter."

  "We hired a babysitter, one who put lies and outrageous horror stories into our daughter's head? Unacceptable. How did that get past our rigorous vetting process?"

  Mia sat forward. "It's not a lie. I saw it happen."

  "Did you actually see the people melt, dear?" Julie asked.

  Mia paused. "No … but that's because Hannah protecte –"

  Julie stood up. "Well, there we have it. This babysitter is clearly filling your head with utter nonsense. We shall fire her immediately."

  Mia shook her head. "You can't fire her. She's dead."

  Julie gasped. Derek's eyes widened. He leaned forward. "Dead?"

  Mia nodded.

  "How?"

  "I just told you. By melting. She took me through the water that killed the other people. She saved me, but died in the process."

  "A noble sacrifice. Servants are there to do our bidding."

  "Julie!" Derek protested. "This woman died for our daughter. She gave her life to ensure Mia came back here safely."

  "You can't … you can't seriously believe what Mia is saying. It's the language of the gutter snipe, horrific fiction that belongs nowhere near our special little girl."

  Mia looked up. "When's my birthday, mother?"

  Julie stared at her daughter, stunned by the question. "Mia Beatrice Aurelia Ainsworth. I will not have you talking to me in this manner."

  The girl insisted, "When is it?"

  "We have more pressing matters at hand, darling."

  "You don't know, because you get Greta to buy my cards and presents. You just stick your hand in your pocket and throw money at me, like I'm one of your business friends. That's the difference between you and her. Hannah remembered my birthday last month, she bought me a jumper, a nice one. She wrote my name in the card. You didn’t. The woman saved my life, the least you can do it pay her some respect."

  Julie's cheeks flushed a bright red. "Mia Beat –"

  "I know my name, Mother. And I know what happened. I'm not making this up."

  "This is absurd. I will not have my daughter –"

  "Enough, Julie. Before you go on a rant, you need to hear this." Derek lifted a hand and motioned to the man in the blue suit. He waddled over and stood beside his colleague, like a servant awaiting instructions. Derek smiled, and motioned for the man to take a seat. "Mr Wise, would you please tell my wife what you just told me."

  He performed a slight nod of the head to Julie, and took a seat beside Mia, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so. "Ma'am, what the girl is describing is absolutely true."

  "True?"

  The man chuckled. "A virus – one called Oedema Type 1 – was inserted into the water system yesterday morning. The effects of it are said to be severe, and exactly what your daughter is describing."

  Julie laughed, suddenly feeling entitled. "How comes we didn’t hear of this?"

  "In all due respect, you're hearing of it now. Ma'am. This was a classified order as of an hour ago. When they discovered the outbreak. It was not revealed beforehand, in order to minimise chaos and disorder in the streets."

  Julie nodded. "A virus in the water … how would that impact the country?"

  "In truth? Without the proper containment, the virus could ultimately end the human race."

  Derek took his wife's hand in his. They both stared at him with terrified eyes. Derek swallowed, and scanned the room, perusing his personal possessions. "Are you telling me there are no protocols in place for this virus?"

  Mr Wise smiled. "I was getting to that."

  *****

  Luke stood in the centre of the street, cocked his head left and right, and observed both sides of the thoroughfare. The surprising tweet of the morning birds and the whip of the brusque air dominated the proceedings. Several cars were parked on the side of the street, abandoned, their storage compartments crammed with boxes and suitcases, their boot lids still aimed at the sky. The houses that stood beside them were quiet, motionless. No one laughed, no one screamed.

  Nothing moved.

  Except the black Labrador that perched in the road, lapping thirstily at one of a dozen puddles in the gutter. Luke stared at the dog as it went about its day, expecting the animal to melt at any second, but it didn’t. It continued, drinking merrily, blissfully unaware of the human decimation that surrounded him. Luke stared beyond the animal, and saw splotches of water all over the road and pavement.

  Strange…

  The DNA of animals must be … different, where Oedema is concerned.

  Luke scratched his cheek, and the fingertips came away with blood on them. He rubbed them together, and watched as the blood smeared into the skin.

  Nicky.

  What did I do?

  I swore to protect you. And I couldn’t even protect you from a stupid child.

  Luke ran a hand over his head, the short hair rasping on his palm. He lifted his other hand, and stared at the Glock, it's gleaming body now coated in speckles of blood.

  I couldn’t protect you.

  I should have seen this coming.

  I'm so sorry…

  *****

  Mr Wise smiled, slipped a hand into his inside pocket and retrieved a thin sheet of paper. He placed the document onto his lap, and unfolded it.

  He glanced at Derek and Julie, checked they we
re paying attention, and continued, "This virus is man-made. It was fully funded by the government, in an attempt to find a more … shall we say, a more discrete alternative to the nuclear bomb. This happened under the radar, much like special forces do when they go into countries on hazardous missions, stuff like that. Unfortunately, the test strains we were working on … they were stolen by an AWOL soldier, an insider, a mole. Those responsible have then unleashed the virus on the country. Today."

  Julie sighed. "You can't trust anyone these days. But how does that help us?"

  "In due time. You see, when this virus was invented, another protocol was added to its potential … shall we say, delivery? The government clearly had ideas beyond their station, and realised they had a perfectly marketable tool for … ahem, human maintenance."

  Julie snickered. "Human maintenance. You mean…" she trailed off.

  "Yes. Population control. What's more effective than dosing the seemingly harmless water of those deemed a waste of human resources. An unstoppable virulent, inserted into the water. No controversy, no uproar. Just people turning into slime, melting into the ground, with no explanation. The government had total deniability, could claim it was the new Ebola. This world is overcrowded, let's face it. A little trimming wouldn’t go amiss, and despite what people imply, everyone wants a little more leg room."

  Julie smiled. "Mr Wise. An apt name, I see."

  "Yes. Anyway, the protocol was never actioned, but it was sanctioned, and remained dormant for some time. It still exists to this day, and I have been given permission to activate it. Which is why I approached you first."

  Derek shook the man's hand. "Mr Wise. It's a total honour."

  "Your company funds and provides so much to her Majesty. And she likes to think of those who serve her, who benefit her and keep her in power. I'm sure you can agree that the people who fall into that elusive category is very slim, an elite group."