by Paul Teague
The pandemic had come out of nowhere and was sweeping through urban populations at a rate faster than had ever been seen before. They knew it was airborne, it was infecting just over nine out of ten people and it was spreading like a bushfire across the planet. With two new strains now wreaking fresh havoc, even those who had survived the first wave were in danger once again.
International travel had been stopped too late. They’d grounded the planes several weeks after they should have done. The advisory teams had warned the President at the briefing sessions but he’d ignored them. The Government always assumed the problem would be solved before it became necessary to pull the plug on the airlines.
The protocols were in place, but world governments were always reluctant to shut down cross-border controls. They waited and waited, then acted too late. The plague was going to have to burn itself out, but it would wipe out most of the world’s population in the process.
Gripped by a sense of guilt and anxiety, he stayed up into the night when the facility was deserted. They’d all been working ridiculous hours for weeks on end, and the team was beginning to tire. The problem with humans is that they need rest, they have to take breaks, however severe the crisis.
He needed to understand what he’d overlooked. He’d been sure he’d got the cure at last, but it had all gone so wrong. He tested and refined the data then started the process all over again to prove and then re-prove his theory. Every time it pointed to the same thing. There was a reason for the mutations, but so far nobody in his team had seen what was staring them in the face. Even the pooled information-sharing across the world had not spotted this. A single database updated 24/7 with the findings of the best scientific minds across the globe, yet nobody had seen what he’d seen. This was sabotage, and it had taken place at the highest level of government. They’d made him and his team the fall guys. They hadn’t even used his cure, they’d gone ahead and substituted the NiVac3 option. It had been hurriedly released and they’d been warned of the consequences. His own solution was more difficult to manufacture at speed, but it would have worked. Now they’d messed up, and they were pointing the finger of blame at him.
The doctor sat in his chair and considered the world they were about to bequeath to the next generation. Towering walls were being built around major cities on the orders of President James Morgan. Those who’d survived each strain of the plague were being herded into segregated concrete fortresses. The voice of the President was broadcast constantly across all media, issuing instructions calmly and authoritatively. Armed checkpoints were being set up where those who’d survived the plague were to report for sanctuary. The lucky ones who were still alive were barricading themselves in infection-free ghettos, packed with Immunes and survivors. They were all that would be left – humanity was hanging on by a thread.
The Government would struggle to maintain control after this. The existing world order would disappear, too many people had died and it was still far from over. But here was the secret, and nobody had seen it so far. This global catastrophe had been accelerated by the Government. President Morgan had overruled the advice of his advisory panel, rushed through NiVac3, and now the entire world was paying the price.
Significant power resided in this information – he cursed that he hadn’t seen it earlier, before it had reached the endgame. It might have been useful then, but there was no longer the infrastructure to deliver a cure globally, not with three deadly strains harvesting so many lives. The plague would have to burn itself out, as it would have done in the Middle Ages.
As a doctor, he was accustomed to healing and curing, but that world of compassion no longer existed. Everything was simplified: you survived or you died. What was happening would divide mankind. Those with the contagion would be left to die and the survivors would cling together, desperate to grasp whatever scraps of humanity they could salvage. He could see it already as the cities were beginning to fall and huge fortresses were being built.
He decided to keep the evidence to himself, removing it from his computer and securely encrypting it on a data card. He had no status now. He’d been shamed and it would take him some time to recover his reputation after such a disaster. The data card would be his free pass – with this knowledge he could wield massive power in the new world that would rise from the ashes of the plague. He had damning evidence against President Morgan and his senior team. Their negligence had caused the Earth to burn. One day, Morgan would be held to account.
He took off his lab coat and placed the data card in the pocket of his trousers. As he was about to walk away, something sentimental in him made him step back. His name badge was still attached to the lab coat. He unpinned it and examined it, recalling the life and career that had once held so much promise for him. That world no longer existed. There was no need for these laboratories anymore, since the plague was unstoppable. They were being hurriedly relocated to a new and secure facility where they would make their final stand against the disease. It was all about the survivors now and the world that would arise from the ashes once the plague had burned itself out. He turned the badge over and put it in his pocket. There was no more need for Doctor Josh Delman. He would have to become something very different in this new world.
Punishment
The Gridders were in a state of high alert. Damien Hunter was paying an unannounced late night visit and the rumour was that he was taking scalps. They’d relaxed too soon, they thought they’d be off the hook once they’d covered up whatever had gone wrong in The Grid. They should have known better. Hunter had been more attentive than usual on this trial, he wasn’t going to let it slip. The Head Gridder gave the team a five-minute warning of the visit. They needed to be on their toes.
Hunter had stormed into the room, throwing it into immediate silence. The Gridders stood up when he entered – there was something about the way he burst through the doors that demanded it.
Linwood had taken care to cover his tracks. He knew he was vulnerable because of his collusion with Hannah, but so far they’d left him alone.
There were already extra Centuria in the area, placed there after Hannah’s arrest. They seemed particularly alert once Hunter was in the building.
Hunter walked along the rows of desks, saying nothing, just looking at the Gridders. He approached Linwood, he could feel himself sweating. A drop trickled from his temple, down his cheek and onto the floor. Did Hunter see it? He seemed to miss nothing.
Damien Hunter walked up to Linwood, staring him directly in the face. Linwood averted his eyes, not wanting to appear confrontational. He could hear Hunter’s breathing. The room was in complete silence.
Without warning, Hunter drew a weapon and placed it to the head of the Gridder who was standing to the side of Linwood. He pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and the Gridder dropped to the floor. A splat of brain passed Hunter and landed on Linwood’s cheek.
A ripple of shock ran around the room, but nobody said anything. They continued to stand in silence, terrified of what he was about to do next.
Hunter barely flinched. His shirt was speckled with the blood of the man he’d just killed. The body was twitching on the floor, it was the only movement in the room. At last he spoke. It was a relief when the silence was finally broken.
‘I’m a little bit annoyed about what happened in The Grid earlier. You need to make sure I don’t become extremely annoyed. We will now be monitoring all of your consoles continuously for unusual activity. I want these Justice Seekers tormented, but I need to keep a few of them alive, potentially up to twenty-four hours longer.’
Another bead of sweat trickled down Linwood’s face. Was everybody else in the room sweating like he was? He daren’t turn to look. He thought it must have been obvious to Hunter, but so far no bullet through the head.
‘If any of you were working with Janexx2, please step forward now.’
Linwood hadn’t been expecting that one. His face reddened, he felt himself burning up. Should he step
forward? Would Hunter kill another colleague if he didn’t?
‘No volunteers? Very well, if you step forward now, your death will be swift. If we find you out later, I can promise it will be very slow and extremely painful. Now, does anybody have something that they want to tell me?’
Linwood hesitated. To step forward would mean instant death. He was no use to Hannah if that happened. Hunter couldn’t have known if anybody had been working with Hannah, they’d have been escorted out of the building alongside her if he had. Linwood thought he was safe from detection. Hunter would kill Gridders at random if he wanted to, but there was nothing he could do to prevent that.
Hunter was walking up and down the rows of desks again, looking into the eyes of the Gridders one by one. The tension was electric. Linwood just wanted it to end. He had decided to gamble. Hunter couldn’t have known he had been working with Hannah, they’d been careful to cover their tracks. He’d opened up a secure socket before Hunter’s announcement so his attempts to track the outside source of interference should avoid the scrutiny of Fortrillium. He’d have to take great care over what help he gave to the Justice Seekers. He was relieved to have placed the MedPacks earlier, before Hunter’s visit, he wouldn’t have dared do it after the warning was issued.
Linwood chose to stay alive. He was going to help his friend Hannah and the other Justice Seekers. And he was determined to track down whoever was interfering with the trials. He had to find out what was going on. If he was discovered, he’d take his chances. It didn’t seem to matter to Hunter if people were guilty or not, everybody’s life was balanced on a knife edge anyway.
Hunter stood at the front of the room. There was complete silence again. The body of the dead Gridder had stopped twitching, but there was a large pool of blood around the blasted skull. Hunter spoke again, moving to the side of the Head Gridder who looked as terrified as everybody else in the room.
‘I have one more announcement before I leave. We’re making an internal re-organization. We’re removing a tier of management.’
Linwood looked at the Head Gridder’s face. She had guessed what Hunter was referring to. On Damien’s final word, she began to run along the aisle between the desks, jumping over the dead body that was obstructing her exit. The Centuria raised their weapons and pointed them directly at her, fingers poised on triggers and ready to end her life.
‘Stop!’ shouted Hunter, holding up his free hand.
He levelled his weapon, as if he had all the time in the world. The Head Gridder was almost at the office door. Surely they weren’t going to let her run? She placed her hand on the ID panel and it turned red.
‘Access Denied’ came the electronic voice.
Frantically, the Head Gridder placed her hand on the panel again.
‘Access Denied.’
She turned to look at Damien Hunter. She knew she was on borrowed time and couldn’t believe she was still alive.
Hunter waited until the Head Gridder looked him directly in the eyes, then shot, right in the centre of her forehead. She dropped to the ground. There was an audible gasp this time. The Gridders couldn’t contain the tension any longer.
Damien Hunter handed his weapon to a nearby Centuria and began to head for the door, ignoring the shocked faces of the Gridders.
‘Consider your department reorganized,’ he said, as he stepped over the body of the woman whose life he had just ended.
‘Make sure this trial is good, or next time I visit I’ll be looking for some new people to fire.’
The last thing he did as he left the room was to turn and point directly at Linwood.
‘You’re in charge,’ he said. ‘You have two hours to do better than the dead woman over there.’
Inside The Grid
Throughout The Climbs and Silk Road, the screening of the Justice Trial continued. On the Silk Road side, it was still the main focus of attention. The scenes depicted were dramatic and gripping. Each of the Justice Seekers was being put through their own mental torture, the images of their greatest fears and horrors playing out for everybody to see.
The drones had placed a direct link into the Psyche-Eval implants, allowing thoughts and feelings to be depicted as real-life events. A release of a finely tuned narcotic via the needles that had been shot into the necks of the Justice Seekers ensured there was nothing trivial to see. These were the terrors lurking in the consciousness that sometimes human beings can’t articulate.
For Max Penner, it was the fear of being eaten alive by the bots at Fortrillium. He pictured himself being slowly consumed by the serrated metal grinders, his body being pulled through the teeth while he was aware of every moment. The machines spewed his own guts into the disposal pipes, but he was conscious throughout. All Max could feel through the slow horror of the nightmare was that he should have done more to stand up to the injustice and cruelty of Fortrillium.
Mitchell’s nightmares were more recent. He was forced to watch as Lucy was peeled, strip by strip, by Schälen. With every scream she made through her agonizing ordeal, she looked him directly in the eyes as if to ask ‘What have you done?’ He saw Joe tossed on the tusks of the creatures in the Labyrinth, never killed just pierced, scraped, gouged and wounded, but he would not die. As Mitchell was forced to watch, Joe stared at him throughout, asking the same question as Lucy: ‘What have you done?’ To make matters worse, as the terrifying scenarios continued, Mitchell was joined by Talya, Jena and Dillon. They looked on as Joe and Lucy were tortured, their screams echoing across The Climbs, and all the while their accusatory looks demanding an explanation.
For Jena, the torment was a different one. She saw Joe, Dillon and Matt. They were being hunted by Centuria in The Climbs but they didn’t know they were going to be caught. She kept trying to scream at them, to warn them, but she had no voice, they couldn’t hear her. She felt a terrible sense of impending doom, but there was nothing she could do. She had to look on in silence as, time and time again, they were captured, tortured and killed.
In The Grid, all that could be seen were Justice Seekers flinching and jumping as if in a fitful sleep, but in their minds the horrors were real, as if they were actually happening. But unlike a dream, the terror did not end, it continued and repeated as the narcotic was slowly released via the needles.
Julia suffered a different type of dream but it was still no relief for her. It fed into her darkest moments and the hideous silences that all humans have to conquer in their own minds.
She saw a baby. It was in a field, crawling along in the grass. There wasn’t a lot of grass on Silk Road, and there was none in The Climbs, so to Julia it was a symbol of life and freedom. She’d joined the Centuria because she realized there was no normal life for her – everything in The City turned to dust in the end. As the baby crawled forward, the grass beneath it became black and the clouds above it turned grey. The baby’s hands began to burn in the grass, its flesh started to blister and redden, but still it kept crawling. The grass rotted away, the baby began to crawl through filth and rubbish. It became covered with maggots and lice and slowly started to decay. Still the baby kept crawling forward. Its flesh rotted, its eyes dropped out, it began to struggle to move, but still it continued, slowly crawling forward. Eventually, there was not enough flesh to keep the bones together, and the baby decayed into the putrid ground as the dream began again. Julia felt a crushing sense of loss, a sadness for what might have been. It took her breath away.
In spite of his physical strength, Clay too was tormented. What humans can fight off with their hands cannot be so easily subdued in the mind.
Clay’s terrors were not of the real world. He conjured up the living dead chasing him through the decaying streets of The Climbs. There were hundreds of them – thousands even – and their grey, rotting hands all reached out for him, trying to pull him down and suffocate him. He ran and fought, he killed the half-dead and repelled them, but still they came. In his dream he had endless energy, he didn’t seem to tire, but the b
attle never ended. He was stuck in a continual fight which had no conclusion. Every moment he felt the adrenalin rush of his struggle for survival, a terrible cocktail of fear and violence.
Every second of their nightmares played out in slow motion in their minds, and on the screens everything could be seen, every detail, every death, every reaction. Heart rates and life-signs data were shown at the bottom of each screen – the hallucinations were placing the Justice Seekers under extreme stress.
For Joe, the dream fed directly into his greatest fears for his family. It captured everything he felt at that moment: the euphoria at seeing his father again after thinking him dead; his love for his mother and extreme frustration with her behaviour – his desire that she’d been stronger when Matt was taken away; his concern for Dillon, who wasn’t strong enough, fast enough. It tormented him, slowly, surely, methodically.
In his mind, Joe was running up the stairs of his tower block. He was trying to save his family from some unknown event. He had to get to them as soon as possible. He was desperate to stop for a few seconds to catch his breath, but he knew he was running too slowly, he had to force himself forward. He’d never managed the fifty-two flights of stairs in anything less than eleven minutes before, now he had just ten minutes to reach the apartment and get them out of there.
He’d started out of breath. His lungs wanted to explode with exertion – he willed his legs to move faster, but he could not force any more out of his bruised and battered body.
They’d got so far, so many lives had been lost and they were so close. Now everything was going to be destroyed because of him, because he was unable to summon the resources he needed to rise to this challenge.
They should have suspected the Psych-Evals would be used to manipulate them. Fortrillium had managed to access the deepest secrets of their souls and was now going to use their own fears and weaknesses to destroy them.