by Perrin Briar
The biggest and most pressing danger he faced was shock. He didn’t know if he could survive entering the water. If he could, he at least stood a chance. But what other choice did he have?
The freezing cold water stabbed at his ankles, and then his calves, his knees, thighs and torso. His whole body spasmed at the frigidity. His feet immediately turned numb, like they’d been cut off. The pain was excruciating, but then it dulled, like he’d been given an anesthetic. His body was already shaking violently. He needed to hurry or he wouldn’t be able to carry out the procedure.
He let out three puffs and then submerged. His head split with a painful headache, a hammer strike to his temples. He turned, opening his eyes, and they screamed in agony. There was no way he was going to be able to survive for long in here. The cold sapped his energy and snatched the air from his lungs. He peered around at his surroundings. He wouldn’t last long in the frigid cold water. He had to hurry.
He took hold of Daniel’s body, crouched down, coiling his legs up and thrust forward, through the water. He breathed in through the mouthpiece, but it was hard to breath more than a trickle. He turned and faced the ceiling of his prison, his coffin, his world, and then began to pull himself along and kicking with his feet inch by inch, looking up at the ice above him. He thought he could see the cloudy white sky above, but it was probably just his imagination.
Bubbles dribbled out from his mouthpiece, tickling his skin as he floated through the water. The farther he went, the harder it was to move his muscles, until he felt he was only shuffling along an inch at a time. And then, as hard as he kicked, he didn’t seem to be moving forward.
It was frigid cold, and stole his energy. He was exhausted. He was tapped. He had nothing left to give, and so he dug deep and gave what he didn’t have. He kicked with his legs. They were freezing up, turning to thick unresponsive blocks.
The current. It had to be here somewhere. He wasn’t even sure which direction he was meant to be heading in, no clue.
And he thought of Kate. Of her final repose, her final resting position, the one he had put her in. The one she would occupy forever. He was sad things had to end that way, sad he would never really know what Daniel’s real plan was, or even if there was one.
The main pursuit should be arriving anytime now. A madman’s words were only as valuable as you allowed them to be.
Hamish turned to look back the way he’d come. He was surprised to find he hadn’t gone far. Searching strobes of light pierced the dark waters, torches held by the rescuers. If they found Hamish and Daniel’s bodies, they would be dooming the whole world.
There was only one hope.
He had to keep going, at least for as long as he was able, and hope the underwater current would seize him. But he could already feel the cold grip of death sweeping over him.
It won’t be long now, he thought.
He could already feel his brain functions beginning to flicker and die, all that experience and knowledge seeping away into the icy cold frigid water. His limbs stopped responding to his instructions. He was doomed. His coworkers would find him, like one of his specimens. They would investigate him, dissect him, figure out what happened to him. And then they would discover it, only it would be too late.
Hamish wept into his goggles. He had failed them. His friends. His family. Everyone.
The current grew stronger. He began to pick up speed as it pulled harder at him, through the water, his head scraping along the underside of the ice. He entered the darkness and saw a few small fishes and plankton that poked him in the face.
Swimming with the fishes, Hamish thought with a mind-chuckle.
And then he felt it. A light tug.
His first thought was it was from an angel, coming to take him away, leaving his lifeless body behind. It gently tugged on him, like a child pulling on her mother’s sleeve. Hamish smiled, but his lip muscles only twitched. He was dead, but his body didn’t know it yet. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t want to stop what was happening. He floated forward, his body sipping oxygen through the oxygen canisters. His lungs were closing up. He was going to die and he couldn’t have felt happier.
Hamish wished he could leave behind a note to his loved ones, to tell them the nightmare events of the past day and why he was taking his own life. Like Dr. Scott had done.
If only Dr. Scott had told one of the others he’d been infected. If only he hadn’t divulged what he’d discovered to Daniel. If only…
If only.
The current pulled the two bodies faster, stronger. They could have been flying. But at least Dr. Scott had left something behind for his friends and family, had let them know how much he cared for them. The bubbleheads.
The bubbleheads.
Hamish laughed, at first a chuckle, and then uproariously, and when he calmed down, they reverted into tears. Daniel had won. He’d achieved his goal long before they had a chance to stop it. They were merely a Plan B, in case Plan A failed.
The main pursuit should be arriving anytime now.
The current pulled him out to some distant and forgotten shore, where it would be forever warm. He could feel himself arriving there now, the warmth taking his body as his organs shut down and died.
His lips lost their power and the nozzle slipped out from between them. The icy water flooded his body. It no longer felt icy, but warm and soft. It entered his lungs, and he welcomed it. Though he was numb head to foot he felt the cold squeeze what little warmth he had left, at his heart and center.
He felt that part of him that had only recently entered his body, what he considered his own Mr. Hyde, the emptiness of the virus, at his center, clawing at the last of his warmth as it faded away. He heard a low groan, and was surprised to find it coming from his own throat.
For a brief moment he thought perhaps that was all he needed – to feel this death and fear and Mr. Hyde would leave him, but he knew better than that. He’d pushed the time he had as far as he could. All he could do now was hope everything else went to plan.
He was going to be with Kate. He could see her now… Amongst the flashing lights of the moonlight above in the silent night, after a horror storm. She flittered in and out of the curtain of light. He reached for her. He seized her hand just as the water flooded his body.
They were together, at last.
Z-MINUS: 9 minutes
The townhouses were on the rich side of a rich town. Few cars traversed these streets, and people gave you odd looks if you weren’t wearing a smart suit. Captain Meadows had never owned a suit. He felt out of place. He wanted to get to the docks, to the Hope and Anchor for a swift one, so he could forget about this place of overachievers.
On a ship he was king. Here, he was nothing. Without a ship and sails he had no valuable skills. He’d posted the other packages earlier, and still had two packages left to deliver by hand. One to this house, the largest in the street, maybe even the largest in the city, and one other to Charlotte. He was beginning to regret saying he would personally hand deliver them.
But Captain Meadows was a man of his word. He took a deep breath and pressed a button on the front gate. It buzzed, and someone he couldn’t see on the video monitor answered.
“Yes?” the voice said impatiently. “Who is it?”
“Uh, delivery,” Captain Meadows said. “For the-”
The door buzzed and the gate opened. Captain Meadows walked down the driveway and whistled impressively at all the money parked in the front drive. Not one car was worth less than two Laurence M. Goulds. He turned and approached the door, taking care not to step on the perfectly manicured lawn. He pressed the doorbell and straightened his collar.
No one answered, so he pressed it again. Then there was movement behind the frosted glass.
A tall, stern woman answered the door. There was a raucous noise behind her, children playing.
“Uh, hello,” Captain Meadows said. “I’m very sorry to bother you, especially with the loss of Dr. Scott. He was a good ma
n.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “Can I help you?
“Dr. Scott’s assistant gave me something to give to you,” Captain Meadows said. “Some personal effects.”
He was about to hand the box over to her when he thought better of it. She did not expect to receive the package. She stepped aside for him to enter. He obliged. The rich did not handle heavy objects, and the sooner Captain Meadows could be shot of them, the happier he’d be.
“On the side table, please,” the woman said.
Captain Meadows deposited it. The woman reached into her pocket for her purse. Captain Meadows waved her off.
“That’s not necessary, ma’am,” he said. “I said I would hand deliver this package, no payment needed.”
The woman smiled with a mouth unaccustomed to warmth.
“Thank you,” she said. “Would you like to come in? It’s my niece’s birthday party. I’m sure we can find you a piece of cake, if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Thank you, but I must get going,” Captain Meadows said.
He turned and headed away, glad to be left with just one more package.
Charlotte. At least he was more likely to fit in there.
Margaret Scott shut the door. Of all the days for the staff to take a day off, why did it have to be this day? Margaret had been made to run around like a servant. But it was less difficult and tiring than looking after the kids, at least.
She looked at the package. The box was battered and dirty. She opened it. Inside were piles of shredded newspaper. She pinched her lips and felt for what was inside. Her hand came across something. She brought it out.
It was a small bubblehead. She would have recognized it anywhere. Her husband never traveled anywhere without the horrid little things. Wrapped around its head, like a noose, was a tag with her name on it.
Margaret rolled her eyes.
“What’s that?” Lucia said.
“Some joke from your father,” Margaret said. “I always hated these little things. Here. There’s one for you too.”
Three young girls came running over, sweaty and out of breath.
“What’re those?” the birthday girl said. “They’re cool!”
“You’re in luck, then,” Lucia said. “Because there’s one for each of you.”
Margaret took each of the bubbleheads out and handed one to each child.
“Go play with them in the garden,” Lucia said. “Go on.”
They ran away cheering, clutching their little bubbleheads.
“How long do you think the bubbleheads will last?” Lucia said.
“About ten minutes,” Margaret said. “If we’re unlucky.”
“I was wondering if I could speak to you about something,” Lucia said. “It’s a business idea Reginald and I had…”
Margaret felt something on her finger. It was a dribble of water. One of the bubbleheads must have broken. She shrugged. One down.
“Tell me in the study,” Margaret said. “I’ve got a fundraiser to attend tonight.”
They turned and headed down the corridor. In their footsteps an invisible man followed them, cradling a stopwatch. There was an identical man for each of the children too. With a discrepancy of just a few minutes, their hosts shared the same destiny:
Z-MINUS: 7 hours 57 minutes
And counting.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Perrin Briar is the author of the popular Blood Memory, Z-Minus and Swiss Family RobinZOM series. He makes his online home at www.perrinbriar.com. You can connect with Perrin on Twitter at @perrinbriar, on Facebook at facebook.com/perrinbriar and you should send him an email at [email protected] if the mood strikes you.
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