Extreme Makeover

by Dan Wells

  “So use Lilly,” said China.

  “Hell no,” said Lilly.

  “Lilly needs a new body, too,” said Cynthia. “If we do end up farming the island almost everything we can grow here will kill her.”

  “I’m perfectly happy the way I am,” said Lilly.

  Cynthia shot her a withering gaze. “That’s because you’re stupid.”

  “If we need genetic stock that’s just one more reason to hit the Connecticut coast,” said China. “Not to raid it, but to find people who want to join us willingly—people that actually know how to farm, or fix broken equipment. Hell, we’re going to need equipment.”

  “We could be attacked by other looters,” said Samoa.

  “We’re not looting,” said China, “we’re surviving.”

  “The danger of the mission makes it that much more important to preserve our DNA before we go,” said Mexico. “ReBirth clones can recover from everything, up to and including gunshot wounds.”

  “That’s a very dangerous way to look at it,” said Lyle.

  Blauwitz looked at Dr. Shorey. “How much do you have?”

  “The government sent us thirty-four grams,” said Shorey.

  “That’s huge,” said Samoa. “We could do any of the things we’ve talked about, and more.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” said Shorey, and the look on her face spoke volumes by itself. “They sent us thirty-four grams, but we’ve used or destroyed most of it in tests. I’d have to check the vial to be certain, but I think we have two grams left. Maybe two point five.”

  China’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t conserve it?”

  “Why would we conserve it?” asked Shorey helplessly. “They told us they were making more.”

  “Two grams is barely any,” said Lyle. “We can save the dying guy, but not much more than that.”

  “Forget the dying guy,” said Cynthia. “This is our only sample, and I don’t want to waste it on someone who can’t even communicate with us.”

  “So we just let him die?” asked Lilly. “Is that a precedent we want to set for what is apparently going to be the start of a new civilization?”

  “It’s a precedent of conserving resources,” said China. “New people we can get, but this is all the ReBirth we’ll ever have.”

  “We don’t need new people if the ones we have are immortal,” said Mexico.

  “Are ethics a renewable resource?” asked Lilly. “Because if we let people die for being inconvenient we might run out pretty quickly.”

  “We’re not letting him die,” said Cynthia, “we’re just not fixing his ankle. We have antibiotics—he’ll live.”

  “The odds are strongly against that at this point,” said Shorey.

  “Think about it this way,” said Lyle, trying to think back to his days at NewYew, tricking the executives by appealing to their self-interest. “If we don’t use ReBirth, and somehow he lives, he’ll hate us. He’ll have gone through months of unnecessary suffering, and he might not even be able to walk. He’ll just be one more person on the island desperate to get the ReBirth and fix himself by any means necessary.”

  “That’s hardly an issue if he doesn’t live,” said Cynthia.

  “We save him,” said Samoa, rising up to his full, imposing height. “I don’t want his death on my conscience.”

  “Then let’s do it now,” said General Blauwitz. He hesitated for a split second. “I’ll go to the lab with Dr. Shorey to make sure nothing happens to the ReBirth along the way.”

  Shorey scowled. “Now you don’t trust me?”

  “Alone at the end of the world with an elixir of immortality?” asked Cynthia. “I don’t trust any of you. And you’d be fools to trust each other.”

  61

  Thursday, December 13

  4:08 P.M.

  Plum Island Animal Disease Center, Long Island

  1 DAY TO THE END OF THE WORLD

  Lyle was suddenly, painfully aware of how many guns were in the room, and how close each person was standing to each of them. Mexico’s assault rifle was sitting on a table, maybe five feet from both Mexico and the general. The general’s own gun was farther away, but close to China. Cynthia’s handgun was probably in her purse, which she pulled slowly closer. Lilly’s submachine gun was somewhere around, but Lyle wasn’t sure where. Did one of the scientists have it? They looked just as tense as the delegates.

  The scientists will side with Shorey if this turns into a fight, thought Lyle. There’s four soldiers on the island, too, out patrolling the coasts—will they side with her, as well, or with the general? Or will it all be over before they can get here?

  “I want to go, too,” said China, and looked pointedly at the general. “To help make sure.”

  “And who’ll make sure of you?” asked Mexico. “We should all go.”

  “Not a chance,” said Shorey. “That’s not just a storage facility, it’s an active lab for studying extremely contagious diseases. We’re on an island because those diseases are so deadly it’s literally illegal to store or transport them on the mainland. A group this size could destroy that lab’s security and kill every one of us with something as simple as a misplaced foot.” She paused. “Dr. Broadus is in the lab—let me call him, and he can bring the sample here.”

  “Or you can warn them,” said Samoa, “and they’ll use it before we can get there.”

  “Let me go with her,” said the general again. “You can trust me—I’m a sworn servant of the American people.”

  “Some of us aren’t American,” said China.

  The was a silence in the room, and Lyle watched each person’s eyes dart back and forth across the group, sizing them up, gauging their own distance to the weapons, to cover, to the door, to the cars outside. If the peace fell apart, what would he do? He might be able to reach the general’s rifle, but he would almost certainly lose if he had to fight China or the general for it. Mexico’s gun was closer, but not as close as it was to Mexico. He could maybe get Cynthia’s purse, but then what? He’d be making himself a target against better-armed foes. He looked at Lilly, and saw that she was just as scared as he was.

  Come on, Lyle, he told himself, you’ve got a backbone now. Use it!

  Lilly looked back at him, and he saw something else under the fear in her eyes. Determination. She held his gaze for a moment, Lyle trying desperately to hatch a plan, but they both looked up in shock when Cynthia spoke:

  “Send Lyle.”

  The general scowled. “What?”

  “He’s already a clone,” said Cynthia. “He won’t use the sample on himself, and he’s the one who’s most insistent on saving the Libyan. We can send him for the lotion because we know he’ll bring it back safely.”

  Lyle frowned, more scared by Cynthia’s unexpected help than by the other people’s suspicion. Why is she supporting me? What does she want?

  “He could betray us for other reasons,” said China.

  “I say we send Lilly,” said the general. “She has a deadly disease—she’s not going to clone herself, either.”

  “She has a disease she’s determined to live with,” said China. “She might very well clone herself so she can at least stay young forever.”

  “Cynthia, then,” said Samoa. “She’s not young or healthy, so she’s even less likely to clone herself, and she supported somebody else instead of trying to go herself. That’s selfless.”

  There’s nothing selfless about it, Lyle almost said, she only supported me because she knew it would make you suggest exactly that, but he realized that anything he said to cast suspicion on her would also cast it on him, as the person she’d supported. He looked at her with a subtle shake of his head, and she rewarded him with an even subtler smile of triumph. She outsmarted us again.

  “Send them both,” said Mexico. “Lyle and Cynthia.”

  “So they can work together?” asked China. “They’re the ones who created it—they’ve known each other for years.”

  “
And they hate each other,” said Mexico. “Anyone who’s spent any time observing them can see it—look at the look he’s giving her now. They won’t collude against us, and if either of them tries to do anything on their own, the other one will stop it.”

  The room was silent a moment while the group pondered. Lyle shot Lilly another glance, wondering what was going to happen—wondering what Cynthia was planning, and who was going to survive it. Lilly looked back, her eyes steady. Whatever it was, she was ready to face it.

  I need to be ready, too.

  “I agree,” said Samoa. “Send them both.”

  “I agree, as well,” said the general. He looked at Lyle and Cynthia. “You go with Dr. Shorey, you get the sample, and you bring it back—and make sure that it comes back. We’ll cure the dying man and keep the rest here, where we can all watch it together, while we decide what to do with it.”

  Lyle nodded gravely, watching as Shorey walked to the door and Cynthia followed, purse in hand. She obviously had a plan. He needed a plan of his own, and he had only a short car ride to put it together. They jogged through the afternoon light—still bright, but night was coming soon—and piled into Shorey’s truck. He rubbed his hands together in the cold, and thought through the situation as they drove to the lab in silence.

  Both of the women looked as concerned and pensive as he did. Dr. Shorey looked extremely nervous.

  What does Cynthia want? Lyle asked himself. She wants power. How will this sample of ReBirth help her to get it? Immortality could be a major trump card, but not for years—if we end up trapped on the island for generations, the deathless matriarch would eventually, inevitably, be the ruler. But she doesn’t want to be herself forever, unless that was another layer of misdirection. Will she try to steal Shorey’s DNA? Will she wait until we get back to the living quarters, and try to steal DNA from one of the other women?

  Will she try to steal mine?

  Lyle looked at Cynthia’s purse, gripped tightly in her hand and still, he assumed, containing her handgun. Had she been able to reload it since the UN building? Would she try to use it? Immortality wouldn’t help her much if she forced the issue and stole the lotion brazenly—as soon as they rejoined the others they’d know, and they’d throw her in the sturdiest makeshift prison they could create. Or they might just kill her outright—it wasn’t hard to cause enough trauma that ReBirth’s accelerated healing couldn’t keep up with it. She couldn’t regenerate a head. No, whatever Cynthia tried would be subtle and insidious.

  The lab loomed before them through the trees, a two-story building with a curving, red-brick front. Several wings and courtyards sprawled out behind it; three tall towers stood in the distance, the local gas tanks, and near them was the recirculated water system that made the island an unlikely Eden. A single army jeep was parked out front. One of the guards? Lyle wondered. Or are the vehicles communal, and that’s what Dr. Broadus drove today?

  “I told the soldiers to keep an extra eye on the lab,” said Shorey, parking by the jeep and opening her door. “Looks like that was a good idea.”

  “We’re not going to do anything,” said Cynthia, climbing out behind her. “We’re here to get the lotion and take it back, just like they said.”

  “You’re the one who told us not to trust you,” said Shorey.

  “I’m here because I’m the only one you can trust,” said Cynthia. “Of course I want the lotion, but I want it under specific circumstances that can’t be filled at the moment. It’s in my best interest—more in my interest than in anyone else’s—to preserve the lotion in pristine condition for as long as possible.”

  “You really want to steal somebody’s body?” asked Shorey.

  “Just the blueprints for it,” said Cynthia. “I don’t know where the real one’s been.”

  Shorey grunted and turned to the front door. She doesn’t like her, thought Lyle, but now she trusts her, at least a little. Is that phase one of Cynthia’s plan? To give her word and keep it until the rest of the refugees let their guard down? But let their guard down for what?

  One of the island’s four soldiers was waiting in a small, sealed reception area, but Lyle didn’t risk the assumption that he was the only soldier in the building. Shorey showed her ID and filled out the various visitor check-in forms, but did not, Lyle noticed, explain to the soldier why they were there and what they were retrieving. That might be because she trusts us more now, Lyle thought. She’s not immediately telling the guard to arrest us, which is a good sign.

  It might also be that she doesn’t trust the guard, Lyle thought, which is a very bad sign. If she’s worried that the man with the gun might do something rash, maybe she doesn’t have the sway over them that I thought she did. That would make one more faction on this already precarious island.

  Lyle grimaced and shook his head. I’m just being paranoid. She’s not being tight-lipped as part of a big crazy plot, she’s being tight-lipped because we’re here to remove a contagious substance from the facility, which is probably against every rule they have. There’s no sense volunteering that kind of information.

  The guard let them through, and Dr. Shorey brought them to a staging room where they suited up in translucent yellow plastic, including elastic-rimmed bags for their hair and small masks for their mouth and nose. Lyle was pleased that he put it all on more quickly than Cynthia—he’d been in clean labs before—but Shorey stopped him before they proceeded and pulled the hatband down over his ears.

  “You don’t want anything getting in your ear canals.”

  Lyle frowned. “Is anything likely to?”

  “At this level of ‘what’s the worst that could happen,’” said Shorey, “your threshold of overzealous protection should be set to ‘remotely possible.’ If we get all the way to ‘likely,’ you’re already dead.”

  Lyle paled. “In that case I want eye protection, too.”

  Shorey pulled out three pairs of plastic glasses and handed them around. Last of all they pulled on plastic gloves and booties, and Shorey opened the door to a long hallway. “This is a polarized floor,” said Shorey, leading them forward. “It’s going to pull any lingering particles off your feet and legs, and the walls will be doing the same to your upper body. We’ll pass through a similar one on the way out, plus a chemical trough and a shower that I suggest you treat very seriously.”

  Lyle realized he was holding his breath, as if he could avoid breathing the entire time he was in the building. ReBirth might be the most prominent threat in the building, but it was far from the deadliest.

  Is that Cynthia’s plan? he wondered. Would she really risk taking anything else out of here? Nobody’s that power hungry. He noticed her purse was gone, left back in the changing room. Does she still have the gun?

  They left the sterilizer and entered the building beyond, walking through a series of corridors and going down a pair of staircases to a storage room underground. Dr. Shorey paused in front of the door. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to wait out here?”

  “We promised the group we’d go together,” said Cynthia. Lyle only nodded in agreement, feeling his stomach twist itself into knots. Shorey sighed and opened the insulated door; Lyle felt a soft puff of cold air wash out of the blackness before a motion sensor clicked on a series of bright fluorescent lights. They followed Shorey inside, and she led them past rows of flat metal cabinets. Inside of each metal door, Lyle knew, was a powerful contagion, packed and sealed and cushioned and protected from every possible form of disaster. Except, of course, for the disaster they were about to create on purpose. Dr. Shorey opened the drawer marked REBIRTH, and reached for the sample vial inside.

  Cynthia put her hand on the doctor’s.

  Lyle stepped forward, reaching out to stop whatever was about to happen, but neither woman moved. Dr. Shorey looked at Cynthia. “What are your intentions, Ms. Mummer?”

  “What are yours?”

  Shorey’s eye narrowed. “I’m going to take this sample back to the oth
ers, just like we said.”

  “And after that?”

  Neither hand moved. Neither woman blinked. Lyle looked back and forth between them, wondering if he should step in. Was Cynthia still armed? Was this her big move? Did she know something about the doctor he didn’t?

  “There are only two options left,” said Cynthia. “In the first, this is a nightmare we wake up from. The world we fled manages to put itself back together, worse for wear but repairable in some form. We go home, we rejoin the government, we carve our new niche in whatever power structure replaces the old one. I do not think this scenario is likely, but I’m too careful to count it out.”

  “Careful or paranoid?”

  “That’s our best-case scenario,” said Cynthia. “If planning for the best-case scenario is paranoid, we’re in a lot more trouble than we’ve dared to admit.”

  Shorey said nothing.

  “In the second option,” Cynthia continued, “this is it. Lyle’s hellfire and damnation sermon was correct, and we’re stuck on this island for the rest of our lives. The extreme measures we’ve proposed to deal with that situation are no longer ridiculous but necessary to our survival. We start a new colony here, self-contained and self-sustaining, and it will be generations before we can even think about leaving. The power structure here will be smaller than the one in option one, but it will still exist, and it will affect us more directly, and we will be able to climb much higher in it. Do you know who will control that power structure?”

  The doctor’s eyes had lost their ferocity; Cynthia’s cold presentation of the facts had affected her. She nodded. “The power will go to whoever controls this lotion sample.”

  Cynthia mirrored her nod. “And what about option one? Who controls the power structure in that scenario?”

  The doctor thought a moment before responding. Her breath puffed out in nervous clouds. “Whoever controls this lotion sample.”

  “Exactly,” said Cynthia. “Now here’s the biggest question of all, and I want you to think very carefully: Who controls this lotion sample?”

  “Realistically?” asked Shorey. “Whoever has a gun.”