Twenty-Five Percent (Book 2): Downfall

by Nerys Wheatley

  “I’d never have guessed. Anyway, they’re not going to kill us, at least not yet. Boot was practically salivating at the two of us being here. I’m not ashamed to admit how creeped out I was. I wonder what he’s up to anyway. And why are the guards all so big? You’d have thought he wouldn’t have wanted to accentuate his shortcomings.” He chuckled. “Shortcomings. I didn’t even do that on purpose.”

  “You realise you’re mocking someone’s physical impairment?”

  “Would you prefer I mocked the fact that he’s a deranged psychopath who has killed thousands, if not millions?”

  “Good point. Mock away.”

  They were left with nothing to do but wait. At some point Micah drifted off to sleep, but Alex was too on edge to do anything but think. He tried to focus on escaping, but his brain, traitor that it was, kept thinking about everything else. His thoughts cycled through Hannah, Boot, Hannah, hoping Sam and Claire were safe, wondering what Boot intended to do with them, and Hannah. She seemed to have got prettier in the few days since he’d last seen her. Was that physically possible?

  After an hour, the door to the cell room opened and two guards walked in. One of them was Brian who they’d seen when they first got over the fence. Alex wasn’t sure if he’d seen the other before. All the huge men were starting to look the same. Maybe they really did look the same. Maybe somewhere in the building there was a laboratory churning out clones in black suits.

  In the cell next to Alex, Micah sat up.

  “You, white-eye, up,” clone number one grunted to Alex.

  Alex remained seated on the edge of his bed. “Was that meant to be a sentence? Would you like to try again?”

  The ghost of a smile flitted across Brian’s face and was gone. He stepped towards Alex’s cell and held out a matching set of handcuffs and ankle shackles. “I have to put these on you so you can be safely moved. Please don’t make it any harder than it has to be.”

  “On who?”

  The other guard strode up to Micah’s cell and held the barrel of his pistol against the surface, aiming straight at Micah. “Any more questions?”

  It was possible the cells were bullet proof, but Alex wasn’t sure enough to risk Micah’s life. He stood, trying to convey with his expression that, while he was at this moment cooperating, there would come a time in the very near future when he wouldn’t, and when that time came, the guard should be very, very afraid.

  By the smug look on the guard’s face, Alex suspected he may not have understood all the subtle nuances of his non-verbal threat.

  Brian put the handcuffs on him first, followed by the ankle shackles. A brief and surprising moment of panic struck Alex as he flashed back to being shackled to a hospital bed, surrounded by bars and about to turn into his worst nightmare. He drew in a slow breath, carefully smothering the memory.

  “Where are you taking him?” Micah demanded as Alex shuffled from his cell, his stride severely limited by the chain linking his ankles.

  “Don’t worry,” the guard said, smirking, “we’ll bring your boyfriend back in one piece. Probably.”

  “Come on, Baxter,” Brian said. “We don’t want to keep Boot waiting.”

  Micah stepped up to the cell wall while Baxter’s head was turned away, standing so close that when he turned back he jumped a little.

  “In the last two weeks, we have seen our home destroyed and our friends and families killed. We have fought our way through hordes of eaters so big they make your little group out there look like a tea party. We have been through hell and we have survived. You have no idea how angry I am. So believe me when I tell you that if you harm him in any way whatsoever, I will tear you apart. You will suffer so much, you’ll wish you’d been thrown to the eaters instead.” Micah’s voice was calm, but Alex could hear the rage simmering beneath the surface. He was suddenly relieved he was on his side.

  Baxter backed away from the cell then shook his head, forced out an unconvincing laugh, and walked from the room ahead of Brian and Alex.

  They took Alex to a lift and rode to the top floor, stepping out into luxury. With hardwood floors, tasteful artwork on the grey-brown walls and subtle ambient lighting, it looked more like an art gallery than an office building. He shuffled to the end of the hallway where a set of large double doors took up the whole width of the wall.

  Brian led him into a plush office where the harassed woman in the blue suit they’d seen earlier sat behind a huge desk. Beyond her was another set of double doors. The woman still looked harassed. Alex got the impression it was her default state.

  Without speaking to them, she tapped an earpiece and waited for a few seconds. “They’re here, sir... yes, sir.” She tapped the earpiece again. “Go on in.”

  The room they entered was huge, spanning the corner of one end of the building with floor to ceiling windows on two sides. A collection of painfully modern sofas, the kind designed for style over comfort, clustered around a five foot wide coffee table before one massive window to Alex’s left. To his right was a long, glass topped conference table with chairs to seat twenty or more people. In front of him, a polished dark wood desk, possibly mahogany and at least ten feet wide, was framed by the second window.

  Harvey Boot, Omnav CEO and all around bastard, approached them from a bar set into the wall to the left of the door. His face stretched into a smile.

  “Welcome, Detective MacCallum. How nice to see, but not smell, you.”

  He nodded towards a black leather and chrome chair by the desk and Brian led Alex to it, attaching the shackles to a bar running beneath the chair. Alex tried shifting his weight to one side. The chair was fixed to the floor.

  After making certain he was secure, Brian returned to the door, where Baxter was waiting.

  “Thank you, Brian,” Boot said.

  “Yes, sir.” He walked out the door.

  Baxter took the door handle and started to pull it closed.

  “Oh, and Matthew?” Boot said.

  Baxter stopped. “Yes, sir?”

  “If I ever hear you use the term ‘white-eye’ again, you will no longer be welcome in my employ.”

  A look of utter panic gripped Baxter’s features. “Uh, yes sir. I’m very sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t.” Boot turned away and Baxter rapidly pulled the door shut.

  There must have been a camera in the cell room. It was the only way he could have known what Baxter had said in there. Alex made a mental note to think before he spoke while they were being held captive.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Boot said, walking to the bar and disappearing behind it. Glass clinked.

  “No, thank you.”

  Alex tugged at his cuffs experimentally, although he could tell by the feel and thickness of the metal that they were eater cuffs, designed to withstand his strength. He leaned forward to get a closer look at the chains binding his legs.

  “They’re reinforced titanium,” Boot said, emerging from behind the bar. “Light, but very strong. Even you wouldn’t be able to break one single link.”

  Alex sat back in the chair. “Keep a lot of Survivors captive, do you?”

  “Actually, you’re the first.” Boot wandered to the desk and leaned against it, taking a sip from the glass he held. “I’d really rather you were here voluntarily, but I don’t think I can trust you to stay by choice, so needs must.”

  Alex affected an innocent look. “How do you know you can’t trust me? You haven’t given me a chance.”

  Boot laughed. It was deep and rich and thoroughly disturbing. “Very good, but I think I’ll err on the side of caution for now. Worthy as my cause is, I am willing to concede it may take some time to convince you to join me.”

  It took some effort to keep the shock from Alex’s face. Boot wanted him to join him? But maybe this could work in their favour. “If your cause is worthy, then tell me what you’re doing here. Maybe I’ll agree.”

  Boot drained his glass, staring at Alex
over the rim. “I’d like to think that could be true, but I’m not a fool, Alexander. But I don’t deny your cooperation is something I would welcome. I find Survivors,” he hissed in a breath through his teeth as his eyes bored into Alex, “utterly compelling.” He placed his glass down on the desk. “Tell me, how strong are you anyway?”

  Alex shrugged, trying to affect nonchalance while discomfort was crawling up his spine like a thousand tiny spiders. “No idea.”

  “Oh come on, you must have tried it, just out of curiosity. Seen how much you can bench press?”

  Alex had, at the beginning. He’d managed five reps at six hundred kilograms before the gym employees became so freaked out they’d politely asked him to leave.

  “Nope, never tried.”

  Boot shrugged. “Never mind. I’ll ask Dr. Vincent to devise a series of tests to determine your maximum strength and compare it to mine when I’ve changed.”

  Alex frowned, confused. “How would your strength be comparable to mine?”

  Boot smiled before turning away and walking to the window beyond the desk. “Alexander, I’m going to tell you a story. The story of my life.”

  Alex stifled a sigh. Apparently it wasn’t enough to chain him up; Boot wanted to torture him too.

  “My mother was a great woman. She could have been like everyone else and only seen the disadvantage in my size when I was growing up, but she didn’t. She saw my potential for greatness, and she instilled in me the drive to achieve that greatness. She recognised that I deserved to be more than those around me. I miss her very much, but her legacy lives on in me.

  “So I studied and worked hard and clawed my way up, over those who were less than I was, until I was CEO of Omnav. And I took it to heights unimagined by the owners. But they were too small minded to see the full potential I did, so I gained control and pushed us further.

  “But even that wasn’t enough. I felt unfulfilled, but I couldn’t understand why. And then I realised, it wasn’t Omnav that would fulfil my own potential, it was me. I needed to be more than merely human. And I saw the opportunity in people like you, Alexander.” He turned back from the window and walked back to Alex. “Do you have any idea what you are? You are the next stage in the evolution of man, the ultimate in physical perfection! I believe we have only just begun to scratch the surface of what the Meir’s virus can achieve in the human body. So I funded research and experimentation, and when the government failed to have the vision I do, I built a whole laboratory under their noses.

  “At first, the research focused on altering the virus to make the body stronger without the drive to eat human flesh, thus removing the need for full infection. But that proved impossible. So then my scientists changed their focus to making the cure more reliable, one hundred percent effective. A lucky by-product of this was the potential to create stronger soldiers. But soldiers are problematic in that they have morals, free will. But then it came to me, why not use eaters instead? They don’t think, they don’t have feelings, they don’t have any moral code. If they could be controlled, they would make the perfect army. I have bidders lined up for when the process is finally perfected. I’ll be the richest person on the planet.

  “But of course, all that is simply an extremely lucrative sideline to the main goal of perfecting the human body. And I am happy to say we are almost there. When we have the cure perfected and one hundred percent effective, I will be able to experience the pinnacle of human development. I will become a Survivor, like you.”

  In the silence that followed, Alex levered his jaw from his lap. “So all this is because you want to be a Survivor?”

  All these years Alex had wished for his old life back, and this lunatic wanted to become like him.

  “I want to attain human perfection,” Boot said. “It is my destiny.”

  There was that word again - perfection. Boot was a glorified Meirite, but instead of revering or wanting to screw a Survivor, he wanted to become one. Alex had thought that Meirites were just a tiny lunatic fringe. It was beginning to look like they were everywhere.

  Or maybe he was just unlucky in that he kept coming across them. That was certainly a possibility.

  “I have one question,” Alex said.

  Boot waved his hand in a condescendingly magnanimous gesture.

  “Could you stop the virus now, if you wanted to?”

  There was a moment, just a split second, when Alex thought he saw fear on Boot’s face. But then it was gone, leaving Alex to wonder what it meant.

  Boot turned away. “The virus will run its course, as it has been designed to do, and when the eaters run out of food, they will die. At least, those not under my control. I will keep those I need, of course.”

  “But there might not be anyone left by then!”

  Boot smiled, speaking as if to a child. “Of course there will be uninfected people left. Even my eaters couldn’t wipe out sixty million people. The virus was only designed for relatively small scale use. I estimate at least ten million will survive.”

  He said it as if it was all part of some big plan, as if he had everything under control, but his answer helped to confirm something Alex had begun to suspect. Harvey Boot didn’t have control and he couldn’t stop the strain of the Meir’s virus his own scientists had engineered. The CEO of Omnav, one of the most powerful men in the country, was afraid.

  And a scared megalomaniac with an army of eaters was possibly one of the most dangerous things in the world.

  “What will you do when this is finished?” Alex said. “Will you take over?”

  “Running a country?” Boot laughed. “Where would be the fun in that? The government will no doubt ask for my help in rebuilding, and I will be happy to oblige, but I have no ambitions for that kind of power. When the world sees what I can do, leaders of state will be coming to me. That’s real power.”

  Alex wanted to smack the smug smile from his face, although it fell short of being entirely convincing.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Boot crossed his arms, leaning back against his desk. “Go ahead.”

  “What’s with all the giant security guards? I’m beginning to get a crick in my neck.”

  This time, Boot’s laugh was genuine. “That is the one drawback. I have them around to remind other people who might look down on me because of my ‘shortcomings’,” he drew the quotes in the air, “as Mr Clarke put it, that physical appearance isn’t what matters. All these men, who many would see as the peak of physical development, work for me. There’s also a certain irony to it I enjoy.”

  Alex nodded. “I understand. With all their perceived strength, you are the one with the real power.”

  Boot grinned. “Exactly.”

  Alex fell silent, looking at his lap, pretending to think. “You seem to be low on personnel here.”

  “Sadly, many of my employees lacked my vision and left when the outbreak began. Others showed a disappointing lack of loyalty and they were... reassigned.”

  Something about the way he said “reassigned” made Alex want to shiver.

  “So I assume you will need people to take their place?”

  Boot’s eyes lit up. It was exactly the reaction Alex was hoping for. “Are you saying you would be interested?”

  “I’m saying the world has changed and those who want to survive will need to change with it.”

  “That’s very astute,” Boot said, smiling. “I knew that if anyone would understand, it would be you. Our imbecilic world has treated Survivors with ignorance and fear, but I believe we can change that.”

  Alex had expected to perhaps garner a few scraps of information about Boot’s agenda which he and Micah would have to painstakingly piece together later in order to formulate a plan to stop him. Instead, during the hour he spent in Boot’s office, the Omnav CEO and owner seemed eager to tell him everything, boasting about how the world would become a better place through the “cleansing” of his eaters, what he planned to do once he himself had been “
transformed”, how Alex could be a part of the whole “glorious” process.

  It almost seemed like Boot was looking for Alex’s approval, so he smiled and nodded and pretended the whole thing was an inspired idea and Boot wasn’t a lunatic who should be locked up in a padded room. By the end he had a headache just from keeping up the charade. He wondered how actors kept that level of concentration, before remembering that if an actor forgot his line or was less than convincing in his portrayal, the audience was unlikely to throw him to a mass of flesh-eating monsters.

  The biggest revelation Alex got from the whole deeply discomforting meeting was that the outbreak was simply a mistake that had caught Harvey Boot as off guard as everyone else, and he had no idea how to stop it. Somehow, it was disappointing. Alex had expected some sort of criminal mastermind. What he got was a deranged sociopath with misplaced delusions of grandeur.

  Although that made him no less dangerous.

  “I like you, Alexander,” Boot said eventually. “You’ve survived against the odds, you have brains and courage, you’re strong and you don’t give up. You’re exactly the kind of man I will need with me for what’s to come. You’ve impressed me, and I don’t say that often. I have to admit, I’m excited about our future together.” He walked around to the far side of his desk and sat in the leather and mahogany chair there. “I think we both have a lot to think about here. We’ll speak again in the morning.” He pressed a button. “Valerie, send them in.”

  Alex tried not to show his relief that the whole thing was over as Brian and Baxter returned and took him back down to the cells.

  This was no longer just a rescue mission. More was at stake than Hannah, or even the doctors and a cure for the new strain of Meir’s. The whole country could be relying on him and Micah to save them.

  It was a good thing the country didn’t know. They had enough to worry about as it was.

  20

  The nervous glances Baxter cast Micah as Brian removed Alex’s shackles and cuffs made having them on almost worth it.

  He had his gun drawn, but Alex wondered if he’d really risk Boot’s wrath by using it on them. If harm came to him or Micah, Alex suspected things would go very badly for whoever was responsible. But with Hannah elsewhere, he was unwilling to try anything that might endanger her. So he behaved. There would be other chances. There had to be.