“What’s going on?” Donald said. “Where am I?”
“You’re inside the City,” Dr. Beck said. “Your children brought you in.”
“My children?” Donald said, reducing the pressure on Dr. Beck’s throat. “You know my boys?”
“Donny and Jamie, yes,” Dr. Beck said. “And two others. Fatty and Lucy.”
“Where are they?” Donald said.
“They’re safe,” Dr. Beck said.
Donald strengthened his grip.
“Where?” he said.
“Outside the City,” Dr. Beck said. “Trust me. They’re safe.”
“Take me to them,” Donald said. “Now.”
“You’re not in the best condition to do that right now,” Dr. Beck said. “Please. Put down the knife and let’s talk about this.”
A shriek from the corridor. Clattering footsteps. In their direction.
“Rages,” Dr. Beck said. “They’re inside. I can protect us. But you have to let me go.”
Donald, in his fuzzy state of mind, took longer than necessary to make his decision. He released the doctor.
Dr. Beck raised the tablet and massaged his throat. Something had lit a fire under the Rages’ asses. He’d have to figure out the reason later. They turned a corner, heading directly for them.
Donald, unable to subsist much longer on adrenaline alone, lost his legs and fell to the floor. He didn’t have a knife in his hand but a cheap Bic biro. Still, Dr. Beck was under no illusions, as weakened as the man was, Donald could rip him apart with his bare hands.
Dr. Beck accessed the options menu on his tablet and selected LOCKDOWN. He pressed it as the Rages fastened their eyes on him through the glass.
“Lockdown initiated,” the computer’s voice said over the City’s speaker system.
Metal shutters slammed into place over the window the Rages were peering through. As the Rages moved from window to window and toward the door, the shutters slithered down, cutting the Rages off. They banged on the sheeting. Loud. They’d attract even more of the things. Still, the doctor had managed to buy them some time.
Thump thump thump on the reinforced windows and doors across the City.
Dr. Beck bent down and helped Donald to his feet. Together, they returned him back to the hospital bed. The steel doors would hold for a while, but not forever. Rages always found a way in eventually. Always.
“Rest, my friend,” Dr. Beck said, lying Donald down carefully.
Even as weak as he now was, Donald was a formidable fighter. Dr. Beck was touched by his dedication to his children. There were few things in the world as pure and unyielding as a parent’s love for his or her children. They would gladly die for them if it meant their children could live a bit longer. It was the kind of drive the world needed, that truly made the world a better place.
It was then Dr. Beck realized he could not hope to complete his mission alone. He needed someone strong and fierce to protect him. He needed an unstoppable human hammer, one with a heart. His children. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for them, and accordingly, nothing he wouldn’t do for Dr. Beck.
“We’ve got a lot to do, my friend,” Dr. Beck said. “And you’re going to have to recover fast if you’re going to help me.”
He moved to the medical cupboard and picked up a large syringe—the kind that looked like something that should be used in hand-to-hand combat—and filled it with the most powerful steroid they had. He approached the patient. Better to think of him as a sack of meat than a human being at this point. It was a good thing he was unconscious. His screams would have driven the Rages outside into a frenzy.
Yes, Dr. Beck had been guilty of many terrible things. Here was one more to add to that list.
3.
DONALD’S EYES opened like rusty shutter doors. He was still exhausted despite having woken up. He peered at his surroundings, vision blurry around the edges. His head thumped a hardcore techno beat. He could hardly move it without getting a disabling slap across the brain. He groaned and lay back down, letting himself sink into the soft mattress. Best not to move a muscle.
“The dizziness will pass. The nausea will take a little longer to improve.”
Donald turned his whole body as opposed to whipping his head around. A man in a white coat sat in a seat by the window reading a magazine. He put it on the bedside table and turned to Donald.
“I suggest keeping your voice down,” Dr. Beck said. “The Rages outside the door only just forgot why they were pummelling on it in the first place.”
“Rages?” Donald said, turning his body once again to look in the opposite direction.
“Right outside, in the hall,” Dr. Beck said.
“Sorry, who are you?” Donald said.
“I’m your doctor,” Dr. Beck said, offering his hand. “Dr. Beck. I’ve been taking care of you since you came here.”
“Came here?” Donald said. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the City,” Dr. Beck said, picking up his walking stick and using it to push himself onto his feet. “Your children brought you here after you suffered a Bug attack.”
“A what?” Donald said.
“An attack from a Bug,” Dr. Beck said.
Donald put a hand to his head. He couldn’t remember any of it.
“It’ll come back to you,” Dr. Beck said. “A result of your severe injuries, I’m afraid.”
“What happened to me?” Donald said.
“You took two sharp instruments to the gut,” Dr. Beck said. “I performed surgery on you and did the best I could. You should make a full recovery with time.”
Donald shook his head. Through the mist of pain, he could see images, fuzzy and indistinct. He reached for them but they kept slipping through his fingers.
“You don’t remember choking me and holding a pen to my throat either, do you?” Dr. Beck said. “You gave me this tattoo.”
He pointed to the black mark on his neck. Donald frowned with thought. He did remember something happening, but not here. Certainly not in this room. It felt like a dream.
Dr. Beck picked up Donald’s chart and flicked through the pages.
“What do you recall about yourself?” he said.
“Me?” Donald said. “I’m. . .”
He hit a wall. He couldn’t remember a thing.
“Where are you from, for instance?” Dr. Beck said. “What’s your favourite food?”
Donald scanned his memory but found only scraps of information. Images, like photographs, wreathed in a thick green mist.
“My wife,” Donald said, concentrating. “I remember a woman I loved very much. But. . . I also remember she died. A long time ago. And my boys. My sons. Donny and Jamie. And. . . I’m from a commune. Mountain’s Peak.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Beck said with a smile. “I’m going to give you more medicine, see if we can’t improve you somewhat.”
“Where are my sons?” Donald said.
“Somewhere safe,” Dr. Beck said. “I got them out of here before the Rages completely took hold.”
“Where did they go?” Donald said.
“I sent them to another City,” Dr. Beck said. “Denver City. They will be safe there.”
Donald ground his teeth and threw his blankets aside.
“Please stay where you are,” Dr. Beck said. “You haven’t fully recovered yet.”
“I don’t have time to recover,” Donald said, throwing his legs over the side. “I need to find my sons.”
He made to get up but his legs collapsed beneath him. The slap sound caused the Rages outside the door to make a “Raaw,” noise, interest piqued.
“You’re not strong enough yet, Donald,” Dr. Beck said, lowering his voice. “Please, get back to bed. I can give you more powerful medicine that will aid your recovery but it’ll sap a lot of your energy. I can’t say I recommend it.”
“Do it,” Donald said. “Heal me. And don’t spare the rod.”
“It’ll be quite painful,” Dr. Beck said.
&
nbsp; “With any luck, I won’t be able to remember it anyway,” Donald said. “Do what you can, doctor. I must find my children.”
4.
DONALD HAD never experienced so much pain his whole life. No sooner was the pain over than he was injected with steroids. Then he was subjected to yet more treatment. He often passed out with the pain, black spots dancing in his vision before he finally succumbed to sweet darkness.
In the darkness, he saw his family and friends. The memories evaporated quickly. He never wanted to leave. He recalled the birth of his sons, then the death of his wife, from one period of extreme happiness to utter despair. He was glad of it. He wanted to remember, even if the memories were painful.
He didn’t seem to have a lot of memories left. Like a disused warehouse with only a few items left in stock. His life was punctuated by one serious incident after another. The rest was fuzzy and difficult to recall. One day of monotony rolled into another, forming months and even years where he had gone through the motions. It was a mistake. He could see that now. He should have done something every day to make it special. Because that was what it was: special. Existence and life were the most important things.
And then he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn’t alone. Someone was watching him.
“Hello?” Donald said.
The mist swelled and then contracted, forming a single black eye. It watched him and his tiny collection of memories. It never blinked and just stared.
5.
DONALD WOKE up. He lay on his side in bed. He was cautious when he moved his head. It always hurt after he woke up. He was relieved to find the stabbing pain behind his eyes and temples was gone. He sat up and wriggled his toes, stretched his arms. He felt great.
He pulled the sheet aside and swung his legs over the side. Put his feet on the floor and felt the coldness of the metal work up his feet and legs. He put a hand to his stomach, on the bandage affixed there, his most serious injury. It didn’t hurt when he touched it. He leaned over to scratch his stomach muscles and found that didn’t hurt either.
He braced his body weight with his arms and shifted it to his legs. He didn’t want to fall flat on his face again. His legs took the weight and he slowly gave it to his legs. He was standing!
He took one step forward, then another, and another. Small, awkward steps, but he was moving. He turned and walked back and felt the same joy a child must have felt when it took its very first steps. He returned to the bed and sat down again, regaining his breath. He got up and did it again. And again. He didn’t stop until he was walking normally. Then, he performed some jump squats. He got down on the floor and carried out situps and press-ups. He had full control of his body once more.
The good doctor lay on the short sofa sucking on an IV drip. He’d been working day and night to get Donald strong enough to leave this place.
Donald felt he was ready. Ready to fight. Ready to do what needed to be done.
Raaw.
The sound came from outside the door. Hadn’t Dr. Beck mentioned something about Rages in the facility? They were still there, stumbling around. One glance at the bent metal shutters over the door and windows told Donald everything he needed to know. There had to be quite a few out there to do that kind of damage.
He could vaguely recall a dull thudding sound when he was dreaming, a baseline beat to the memories. It must have been them, beating on the door in their attempt to break it down.
He turned to the doctor and prodded him gently awake.
“Dr. Beck?” he said. “Doctor?”
Dr. Beck grunted in his sleep, then gradually opened his eyes. He yawned a yawn that took up his whole face. He smacked his lips and shut his eyes before they suddenly bolted open. He sat up and looked at Donald with shock.
“Sit down,” Dr. Beck said.
“I don’t need to,” Donald said. “I feel fine—”
Dr. Beck pulled him down beside him. He put a hand to his face and pulled the skin down on his cheek to check his pupils. Then he checked his hands and pulled at the bandage on his stomach. Two large circle scars on Donald’s abdomen. He couldn’t care less so long as everything inside worked.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Beck said.
“Great,” Donald said. “Never better.”
“That’ll be the steroids,” Dr. Beck said. “Don’t overexert yourself or you’ll soon feel more tired than you’ve ever felt.”
“I won’t, Doc,” Donald said. “I have to thank you. I never would have pulled through this without you.”
The doctor’s smile was sad and a little distant for some reason. Donald supposed there was a lot to be sad about these days.
“It’s the least I could do,” Dr. Beck said.
“Tell me what happened here,” Donald said.
“I told you already,” Dr. Beck said.
“In more detail,” Donald said. “Maybe there’s something we missed.”
“Missed?” Dr. Beck said. “Missed what? The Rages attacked. That’s what they do.”
“But you said they turned and attacked the City, despite the charges Donny set off,” Donald said.
“That’s correct, yes,” Dr. Beck said. “We never found out what caused them to do that.”
“It might be important, don’t you think?” Donald said. “In case it happens again.”
It was still difficult for Donald to accept everything Dr. Beck told him was true and not the plot of a fiction book.
“First thing’s first,” Dr. Beck said. “We need to get out of here.”
“How?” Donald said. “There are Rages outside the door.”
“You’re going to have to cut through them,” Dr. Beck said.
“Cut through them?” Donald said. “We don’t even know how many there are!”
“Yes we do,” Dr. Beck said, picking up his tablet. “Get dressed. We’re about to conduct a test to see if your body really is up to scratch.”
Great. He’d just woken up with full use of his faculties and now the doctor wanted him to risk his life testing it. Hoorah.
6.
“THERE ARE six of them outside this room,” Dr. Beck said. “Currently, two on the far left, approximately five yards away. Three on the right, three yards away. And one about one yard in front of the door.”
“One, two, three, got it,” Donald said. “Let me look at their condition.”
Dr. Beck angled the screen so he could see the figures mulling around in their various sections. They were in good shape—for Rages. Donald looked to identify missing limbs or unusual objects sticking out of their bodies. It was amazing the things these beasts accidentally picked up. They appeared to be clean.
Donald held the busted leg he’d wrested from the bed. A nasty bludgeoning weapon. It would be slow but effective at taking out these creatures. He wore his original clothes. They were dirty, torn, and covered in blood spatters but they were better than wearing the hospital gown. In one hand he held the dining tray. It would serve as his shield.
“Open it,” Donald said.
“You’re ready?” Dr. Beck said.
Donald nodded. Dr. Beck pressed the button, and the metal shutters on the private hospital room began to furl back up. The ones on the door, most bent out of shape, only got two thirds of the way up before they jammed, unable to fit through the top slit. The creatures had already begun to turn in the direction of the noise. Donald wouldn’t wait for them to rush him.
He ducked under the slats. As he rose back up to his full intimidating height, he swung the bed leg, connecting with the first Rage’s chin, dislocating it. The head sailed free from its shoulders to the opposite wall like he’d hit a home run.
The five other Rages descended on him at once. They would not all reach him at the same time. The three on the left fought one another, bunched up as they were, tugging and fighting to get ahead. It was what Donald had expected them to do. He was already turning to face the two Rages on his right.
Donald hefted the bed leg and, wi
th the blunt end, slammed it into the first Rage’s face like a freight train. The creature wasn’t dead yet but had been knocked to the ground. It shook its head in startled confusion. Donald had time to knock the second Rage back with his shield, forcing it into the corner, before following up with a skull-crushing blow with the blunt end of the leg.
Man, it feels good to be kicking ass again. There was little time to celebrate.
Donald spun around. The three Rages from the other side of the corridor were already converging on him. Donald pushed at them, his shield taking the brunt of the force. He charged them, sending them back. They stretched their necks to snap at him but couldn’t reach.
Donald roared and threw out his arm, pushing the three back. The second Rage he’d knocked to the floor was now beginning to finds its feet. Donald delivered a swift kick to its head with his steel-capped boot. The head hit the ceiling, the wall, then landed on the floor. He dispatched the final three Rages one by one with the blunt end of his chosen tool.
The walls were streaked with old blood and the mutilated corpses still twitched, some of the body parts still moving. Donald’s shoulder rose and fell with gasping breaths.
“Good work,” Dr. Beck said.
It was the most impressive thing he’d ever seen. No way in a million years he could do the same. He didn’t have the speed, the dexterity, the aggression. Hunting these things was a real skill. He was glad Donald was on his side.
“Next room?” Dr. Beck said.
“Hell yes,” Donald said.
7.
DONALD WIPED a dirty hand across his forehead and leaned against the wall. He’d cleared half a dozen rooms and they had still hardly made a dent in the number of rooms and corridors there were in the City.
“What are the kids doing in this other City?” Donald said, bending down to wipe his bludgeon on a fallen Rage’s rags.
“They went there to help fire the great cannon,” Dr. Beck said.
After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set Page 43