by Perrin Briar
“Patrick’s got someone on the radio,” Carl said.
They all dropped what they were doing and ran to the radio. Patrick sat in front of it and held up a hand, signaling the others to be quiet.
“Affirmative,” Patrick said. “This is Palmer Station, over. We require immediate assistance, over. I repeat, we require immediate assistance.”
Static and hissing on the other end of the line.
“We require immediate assistance, over,” Patrick said. “Do you roger, over?”
More hissing and crackling. Patrick leaned back, exhausted.
“Damn it, I thought we had them,” he said.
Daniel rested a hand on Patrick’s shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he said. “You did your best. Take a break. I’ll take over for a while.”
“Received, over,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “Standby for immediate evac the moment the storm is over.”
“The second the storm’s over we’re getting out of here,” Patrick said. “Did you hear that? We’re getting out of here!”
They whooped and clapped and high-fived and hugged. It was a joyous, happy moment. It was really going to be over. And soon.
Kate hugged Hamish. She looked at him, and he looked back at her. This was his moment.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Kate said.
It wasn’t going to be the end of their little world after all. Hamish had lost all confidence. Help was coming. They were no longer alone. They would get through this. They were going to go back to the way they lived before.
“Nothing,” Hamish said.
He groaned at his own weakness.
Z-MINUS: 1 hour 12 minutes
It was just a waiting game now, waiting to see what would happen when the chopper arrived, waiting for when the army came and swept everything under the rug. Waiting for the storm to end. But it still blew, threatening and cold outside.
The center had lasted more than fifty years, had seen countless other storms and lived to tell the tale. The chances it could not survive this storm were remote. For the first time since Hamish had arrived at the center, he relaxed. They were going to get out of there. Help was coming. He even allowed himself to smile.
“You know,” Hamish said out loud. “There’s one thing about all this I still don’t understand. If Dr. Scott erased all the information, ensured none of us would find anything about it, how did Ian contract it?”
“Maybe Dr. Scott wasn’t as thorough as he’d hoped,” Kate said. “He was infected, turning into something, something he didn’t know yet, but he knew enough to know it wasn’t going to be anything good. He was weak and hungry for blood. He cleaned up as best he could, but somehow something was still left behind, something for Ian to get infected with.”
They were all silent a moment, thoughtful about how easily it could have been one of them who got accidentally infected. They peered at their surroundings. The virus could be in this very room. All it would take was for Ian to touch an open wound, to sneeze into his hand, to touch one of the surfaces.
“We may never know what infected Ian,” Daniel said. “Whatever did infect him will have lost its potency by now. This virus is not airborne, otherwise we would all have contracted.”
Kate shrugged.
“We might never know how Ian got infected,” she said.
“You’re probably right,” Hamish said. “None of us is infected, so as long as we stay here and don’t move, don’t go to any places Ian might have caught the virus, all we have to do is sit and wait.”
“It’s too late for Carl,” Daniel said. “He’ll never get to see his friends and family again. He’s dead out there. Probably dead already.”
There was no good response to that. Daniel was clearly still aching over his best friend’s demise. He wanted to draw someone into an argument, but no one was rising to the bait.
“How long have you guys been here up till now?” Hamish said after an appropriate amount of time had passed.
“Six weeks,” Kate said.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Daniel said belligerently.
“Ian caught whatever it is he has from somewhere,” Hamish said. “Which means he must have caught it here. Or from something he brought with him.”
“So you’re saying the origin of whatever turned Ian into what he is came from here?” Daniel said.
“But nothing has changed in the past few days,” Kate said. “What could it be?”
Daniel’s eyes grew distant with thought, and then narrowed as something snapped into focus. He looked at Hamish, a curious look on his face.
“Nothing has changed,” he said. “Except your arrival.”
Kate blinked. Patrick was equally surprised at the comment.
“You don’t honestly believe Hamish would have brought something here to infect us all with?” Kate said. “What would be the purpose?”
“Perhaps none,” Daniel said. “He might not have even known he brought it with him. It could have stowed away on his clothes, in his suitcase. But he brought it with him nonetheless. Think about it. Everything has gone downhill since he came here.”
“It makes sense,” Patrick said.
“No, it doesn’t make sense,” Kate said. “Why would there be a dangerous virus on Hamish?”
“Bacteria and germs get passed around remarkably easy, you know that,” Daniel said. “A single sneeze or touch can pass the germs on.”
Could Daniel be right? Could he have accidentally brought something with him? He hadn’t had much contact with Ian before he got infected, but then, a virus didn’t require much.
“What about Dr. Scott?” Kate said. “Hamish wasn’t here when he disappeared.”
“We’re not blaming him for Dr. Scott’s situation,” Daniel said. “Only Ian, Jeff, Lindsey and Carl’s.”
Hamish felt like he was floating above himself, looking down on the others. It didn’t seem like this was really happening. Was it really his fault the others got infected? He shuddered at the idea.
“This is Hamish’s fault,” Daniel said. “Everything was running fine before he turned up. He must have brought the virus with him.”
“Will you listen to yourselves?” Kate said. “I understand you’re afraid, but there’s no need to start casting ungrounded aspersions.”
Daniel stood up. After a moment of hesitation, Patrick stood up beside him.
“Get out of the way, Kate,” Daniel said.
“No,” Kate said, squaring her shoulders.
“Kate,” Hamish said, touching her on the shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Kate said.
“He’s right,” Hamish said, putting a comforting hand on Kate’s shoulder. “I might have brought something here without knowing.”
“No,” Kate said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“But you have to admit it is possible,” Hamish said. “If you were all alive and well and healthy before I arrived, and then something like this happened… It’s pretty clear what caused it. We should have thought of it sooner. I promise you all that I never brought anything here with me on purpose. I would never do anything like that. What do you suggest we do?”
“You’ll go to an empty room and stay there until we decide what to do,” Daniel said.
“We don’t need to do this,” Kate said, tears welling in her eyes.
Hamish cast around and noticed all the strong characters were gone, dead, infected, or all three. Jeff could have calmed them all down, as could Lindsey. Kate was not a calming force. She could only fan the flames.
“We were fine before you arrived,” Daniel said. “You were the one who did the blood tests. Maybe you even got them wrong. Maybe even on purpose. It’s you. You’re the one who’s been doing all this to us.”
“No,” Hamish said.
“You’re our Typhoid Mary,” Daniel said. “He could be infecting us all right now as we speak.”
&
nbsp; There were small, unconscious movements among those present, as if the virus really was seeping from Hamish and emanating out like a poisoned aura.
“I’ll go to my room,” Hamish said.
“But you’re not even infected!” Kate said.
“No,” Hamish said. “But something on my person might be. I can’t put you in danger, not because of me.”
Kate stepped toward him, in defiance of the others’ fears, but Hamish stepped back. He loved her for that gesture, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be responsible for her getting locked up too. It would tear him apart.
“I’ll go,” Hamish said to Daniel.
He went into his room. It was cold and dark, his prison.
As Daniel brought the door closed, a sliver of light from the corridor lit his face, and for a moment Hamish thought he caught the very real, tangible tint of madness across Daniel’s features. The locks bolted home.
The storm roared. It sounded like laughter.
Z-MINUS: 1 hour 4 minutes
“Hamish?” Kate said, gently rapping on his door. “I know you’re in there. You don’t have to ignore me.”
Hamish didn’t respond to her.
“I know it’s not your fault we’re in this situation,” Kate said. “But they’re all afraid and don’t know you like I do. When help comes, they’ll realize everything you did, you did to help us.”
“Do you blame me for all that’s going on?” Hamish said.
“No,” Kate said. “Of course not. What possible reason could you have for wanting to infect everyone with some kind of virus? Daniel is angry. Patrick’s scared. When the storm ends, we can get out of here.”
“Do you remember when we used to play in the garden back home?” Hamish said. “I would be the knight, and you would be the princess, and I would come and rescue you from your tower.”
“Yes,” Kate said. “I remember.”
“Now it looks like it’s the other way round,” Hamish said. “I’m the one who needs rescuing. I’m the princess.”
“I always thought we were rescuing each other,” Kate said. “If I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t need to be there to rescue me. Keep your chin up.”
Kate turned quiet. Hamish wasn’t sure whether she’d left or just become silent. Time was a whirlpool, sucking him in and then spitting him out.
“Kate?” Hamish said out loud.
She might have still been beside the door. He didn’t know. He pressed his hand against it, like he was touching the softness of her skin. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. He’d failed her again. He was weak when he should have been strong – like Carl, who in the face of death still walked with his head held high. Hamish faced a far less dangerous foe, but it was equally scary. Himself and his own issues.
In many ways death was not as formidable an opponent as people often gave it credit. It always won, and afterwards your struggles were over. It was those who were left behind who were the real victims. It was not the same with personal issues. As hard as you might fight against them, they never really went away, and you became a victim of yourself. Those were by far the tougher opponents. But they were worth fighting. The prize was growth, a better you, and a happier life. In the grip of despair it was hard to picture something like that. That’s what made it a challenge, what made it worth pursuing.
Hamish sat down on his bed. The springs squeaked beneath him. How did he end up in this situation? Blamed for all those deaths and infected. What were their rescuers going to think? They would listen to Daniel, and the fact Hamish had so easily let himself get taken away would only add credence to his accusations. But in truth, that didn’t really concern him. There was no evidence of bad behavior because he hadn’t committed any. It was only what Kate thought of him that mattered.
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
The sound sent a shiver up Hamish’s spine and tingles across his skin. His mouth flopped open, a gasp escaping his lips. The undead had escaped again. And if Hamish had missed his guess, they had help in escaping, just as they had earlier. Undead Ian and Jeff hadn’t chewed their way out of the morgue drawer or their bedrooms. Someone had let them out.
And now they had been let out again.
But for what purpose? To infect the others. But why? What would that gain? And the person who let them out, why would he do that? Hamish didn’t know. But not knowing the answer did not constitute a good enough reason not to respond and alert the others to what was heading their way.
Hamish approached the door. He drew back his fist to pound on it, but didn’t. Letting an undead out of its cage did not mean it would automatically head toward your intended quarry. They were stupid. They might have gone the wrong way. Making a loud noise now would only draw them faster toward the communal area.
But he still needed to warn them, before the creatures descended and slaughtered them all. But how?
He turned and approached the small window. Snow turned the world deathly pale. He couldn’t even see the storm outside, but he could hear it, the howling wind and the stinging cold. The storm would be his salvation, as it had almost been his destruction.
He shook his head. This was a bad idea. But if he didn’t act soon, Kate and the others would be dead.
“Crap,” Hamish said.
He picked up the duvet blanket and wrapped a copy of the bible in it. He used it to beat against the glass. It was surprisingly strong. He hit the glass again, this time forming a crack. The sound was deadened by the blanket. The glass broke, and the cold snatched Hamish’s breath from him. The snow poured into the room, soaking his bed.
But none of that mattered. He had to get to Kate before it was too late. He poked the spiked shards around the edge of the window out with a curled finger and then laid the blanket on top of it. He put on a few extra layers of clothes and ducked out into the freezing night.
Z-MINUS: 52 minutes
The cold snatched the heat from Hamish’s body and enfolded him in ice. He wrapped the duvet around himself to keep some warmth as he jogged forward, the blanket flapping behind him like a cape. The wind howled in his ear, whispering tales that drew men and beasts to their deaths.
Hamish kept moving. He had no time for stories. The duvet grew heavy with water as it absorbed the wetness from the sleet that stung his exposed skin.
Hamish kept his hand on the building wall as he made his way around it. His extremities were immediately frozen. He couldn’t focus. The snow flurries and their drifts blinded him. If he was going to make it to the front entrance of the facility he was going to need to keep going. If he didn’t get there soon he was going to get frostbite.
His fingers and hands were already frozen lumps. They stung, like pins and needles all over his skin. He couldn’t even feel the wall anymore to keep track of where he was heading, but he could see his fingertips running over its surface.
The snow was a high mound around the center’s base. He couldn’t keep walking through it. Instead, he got down on his belly and crawled across the surface. He weighed up the cost of keeping the duvet versus the amount it slowed him down. He let it go. It slithered over his body like a snake’s old skin, and was stolen by the storm. He pressed through the snow, throwing his arms and legs forward one after the other.
He edged around the corner. Just a little farther and he would be at the main entrance. His body shuddered with the cold. He wouldn’t last much longer. He was a block of ice. His joints were seizing up and it was difficult to keep moving. He thought he heard them creak.
The snow bed beneath him didn’t feel cold anymore. It felt soft and warm. He could have just put his head down and rested, relaxed, and it would all be over. Then he knew he should start worrying.
His clothes dug into his skin. They had grown hard and rigid, like they’d been over-starched. But he kept going, kept moving his legs. He couldn’t stop. Flakes of snow settled on his eyelashes, and his eyes began to freeze shut.
His breath misted in front of his face in great feathery plumes. He
turned another corner. It was getting harder, tougher, to keep going. He forced one limb in front of the other.
He entered a pool of light cast from the communal kitchen. There were no screams yet, not that Hamish could hear clearly with the howling winds. That didn’t mean there hadn’t been some and they were now all dead.
Hamish would die too, as slow and cumbersome as he was. So why struggle? Why not give up and let what was going to happen, happen? He wasn’t going to be much use in protecting Kate but perhaps he could give her a little extra warning. It could make all the difference.
The main entrance loomed large before him. He looked up at it. It was a large white monolith. He stretched up to reach the door handle. His fingertips met it, but he couldn’t wrap them around it. It was too far.
Hamish grunted as he forced his arms underneath himself. Was this what it was like to be undead? To have your joints be stiff and unresponsive and unable to do what you wanted them to?
He grunted and pushed with all his power onto his arms, and leveraged himself up into a sitting position.
Was it still unlocked from when Carl had gone to his death? Why hadn’t he thought of it before? What would he do if the door was locked?
He reached for the door handle, to seize it. His arm was bent at the elbow, unable to flex out straight completely. He gripped the handle. He pulled down on it. The door flew open on a strong gust of wind and banged against the opposite wall.
Hamish crawled inside, body shuddering and in pain. Kate and Patrick turned to look at him. They were huddled together, backing away against the communal kitchen counter, clutching blunt weapons in their hands. Fear painted their faces.
Hamish realized what he looked like…
Stiff and lacking motor control, he was frozen and ungainly. At a casual glance he would look like one of the undead. Patrick stepped toward Hamish, drawing his weapon back to strike him.
“No!” Kate said. “It’s Hamish! He’s not infected!”
Patrick hesitated, not taking his eyes off Hamish. He stared him in the eye, very much looking like he wanted to swing his cudgel anyway. He didn’t lower his weapon, but turned to face the undead ambling toward him.
