With the presentation over, Josef's team were again congratulated, thanked and then invited to get back to their day jobs. Josef remained, eager to put across his desire to switch focus and handover the project to some of his team members. He wasn't naïve to the fact that until the treatment was on the market, they would try to keep him working. Josef was ready to put his case forward, argue and make threats he knew were idle.
“I think we're in a great place, the team has been amazing and I think it's time I switch to our next big venture.” Josef heard himself and knew he could have made a stronger opening.
“We've discussed it Josef, and we agree. Roger and William are fine men and we think they can do the remaining grunt work allowing your considerable expertise to shine on something new.” Gareth grinned wildly as he spoke and Cahill nodded enthusiastically. Josef had run through several scenarios in his head. Getting what he wanted with minimal effort wasn't one of them, for a second he genuinely thought maybe they were making fun of him. But that wasn't how they conducted themselves.
“Can I get to work straight away?” Strike whilst the iron was hot, Josef was already ahead but keen to push his luck further.
“No, I don't think so.” Cahill responded.
“We think you need some time, to reset. You've been amazing but you need a break.”
“I really don't. I'm ready to get to work, right now. I already have a plethora of ideas.” Josef wasn’t about to beg. He was already doing better than he thought and didn’t wish to push it too far.
“Still, we insist. We're talking two, maybe three weeks.” Cahill was being stubborn, if only to keep Josef out of the lab whilst his people did what they needed.
“How about one week? I can take a break, getaway then get back to work.” Josef lied, they might not want him working in his lab, but they couldn't stop him starting at home. That's all he needed anyway, himself, his books, good coffee the odd green tea and some quiet. In fact, he was falling in love with the idea.
“One week, but you need to rest.” Cahill relented.
“Of course.” Josef happily lied. With that, more hands were shaken and Josef left the room a happy man. Those left in the room were equally happy.
CHAPTER TEN
EVERYTHING WAS FALLING into place. Whilst Josef had been working hard in the lab creating FatBGone, Gareth had been working hard forging relationships, gaining leverage and making the path to market as smooth as possible. He sat in his grand office casually flicking through the report he'd unofficially helped to co-author. Gareth loved the name FatBGone. He knew it was naff, but he also knew that it was on the nose and sometimes that's what you wanted. This was the market he was catering to. Also, the lowbrow nature of the name was a fuck you to Josef. There was little doubt Josef was a genius, but when he got going, he'd let you know it. A genius yes, but also so very naïve. So desperate was Josef to save the world, he was ready to drop his involvement in FatBGone before they completed it. Josef didn't realise this was what Gareth and Cahill wanted. FatBGone worked, but it wasn't perfect. The side effect of death had been resolved, but FatBGone stayed present in the human body, although in a dormant state. Roger and William had done their best to sway the results and made sure that it would pass scrutiny. They'd done a good job, but Josef’s observant eye would have spotted the issue if he wasn’t so eager to move on. Where they hadn't been able fudge the outcome, Cahill's money had. Most of the board knew nothing, mainly through choice, but they had spent money to ensure that the dormant microbe was ignored. What harm could it do?
If Josef hadn't allowed his new ego project to distract him, he'd have not allowed the drug to progress further until the microbe was completely eradicated from the body. Fifty to seventy percent of the microbe was passed in the patient’s sweat. The remaining microbe would be dormant and through all their testing, remained that way. Cahill, Gareth, Roger and William were content this was enough and not a stopper on becoming filthy, stinking rich. A couple more weeks and they'd be clear, having thrown money at every legal method to speed up getting the treatment approved and pursuing every illegal one too. Then came the knock at the door.
It was Josef. He should have been enjoying his break from the lab before starting his new project. He looked apprehensive, standing in the doorway with a heavy bag slung over his shoulder.
“Gareth, I was looking for Cahill but apparently he's in New York?”
Gareth gestured for his guest to take a seat. “Josef, you're supposed to be sunning yourself in the Maldives, reading your science books or anything but being here.”
“I was going through the test reports. I think there's an issue.” Josef was concerned, with a near hint of panic.
Gareth gave his best concerned face. “What is the issue?” He needed to put this to bed.
“I really need to speak to Cahill.” Josef was adamant.
“I have full authority, you know that. I want this drug out there, if there's an issue, I need to know, I need to get it resolved so we can get to market. What is the issue Josef?” Gareth was making it clear, he was the boss.
Josef sighed “I think there's been a mistake in the testing, I've checked and double checked and there is an inconsistency. No, it's not an inconsistency, it's an outright error.”
Gareth held up the report he'd taken great pride in. “This doesn't mention any errors, it doesn’t mention anything other than a working drug, the drug you created.”
“It works, but the microbe, I don't think it's clearing the system. I don't know what William and Roger were thinking, but between them they've missed it.”
Josef produced a folder from his bag. “Here, the number, it's wrong.” Josef pointed at a section in the folder.
“And here, that's just not right, in any possible way.”
Gareth looked at the documents and shrugged his shoulders.
“Jo, I don't know what I'm looking at. But if you say there's a problem, there's a problem. Have you spoken to anyone?”
Josef felt a slight relief, he was being listened to, now he just had to get action. “No, I wanted to talk to Cahill, get this looked into quietly. I think this might be deliberate.”
Fuck, why couldn’t he just leave it alone? “Do you suspect Roger and William?”
He believed him, this would get resolved. The relief grew. “That's my thinking, they had the access and opportunity. I just can't work out why.”
“Okay, I'll deal with this. Just give me two days. I'll put the brakes on and we'll get this sorted. Trust me and don't talk to anyone. We don't know who's involved.” Gareth knew his options were limited, whatever happened Josef was now suspicious and getting anything past him would prove nearly impossible.
Josef nodded sombrely, he had feared that they would ignore him. He felt some relief from Gareth, but not enough. Gareth walked from around his desk and patted Josef on the shoulder
“We’ll get this sorted, I promise. Go home, I'll contact you once I've done some digging.”
Josef gathered himself, nodded and calmly walked out. Gareth placed himself back in his chair and stared at the report deep in thought. Damn it, some people were just too smart for their own good.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PETER HAD BEEN on the move for nearly three hours and had found the journey slow going. Every rustle of a bush, tweet of a bird or bark of a hungry dog caused him to freeze and his heart to skip a beat. Peter had opted to avoid going anywhere near the town centre, surely that would be trouble. Sticking to the residential areas he knew he'd face trouble at some point, but nothing compared to the town. In fact, he was sure he'd have had the chance to test the bat or his spear before now but every one of the infected he'd seen had been locked inside of a house, desperate but unable to taste his flesh. He was expecting to see hundreds of them, but they had been conspicuous by their absence. It nearly made the tension worse. Then he saw her.
She would have been in her mid-twenties. She wasn't much to look at now, but a month ago Peter imagined she
would have been stunning. The kind of girl that would have showed no interest in a boring overweight man like him. Now though things had changed, she was very interested in Peter. Just not in the way he'd have liked. He'd seen her and froze, hoping she'd shuffle onwards and not notice him. She turned and saw a substantial fresh meal, the first her greying eyes had seen since she transitioned. Dogs, cats, foxes and pigeons had been the poor excuse for food until this point. Now this fat man was in front of her and her instincts took over. She wasn't fast, but she was determined. She moved with a grace that her decaying flesh would have you believe is impossible. This caught Peter off-guard. She closed the distance in an unfeasibly quick time. Peter, spear still planted firmly in the ground and cricket bat limply held in his left hand stumbled back as she pounced.
The spear found its way firmly in her throat, popped up through her jaw and found its way through the skull and straight into her brain. Peter achieved this by doing nothing more than stumbling back and her fluid movement and momentum did the rest. Peter stood firm, holding the spear balancing her lifeless rotting body inches from his own. Her grey dead eyes still full of anger, full of lust as they stared back at him, but her body now lifeless. Peter snapped out of his daze and pushed the spear to the side, sending her tumbling to the floor along with it. She hit the ground with a dull thud. He wrestled with the spear to free it from its new home, eventually it popped free. The spear now reverted to its previous incarnation of a mop handle. The small but sharp knife was somewhere in the girl's head. Peter wasn't even going to try to retrieve it. It was lost. Peter cursed his luck, the cheap gaffer tape and the girl. The poor girl.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE STREET JOSEF lived on was quiet and rundown. For a man of his intellect, he sure didn't waste time or money on the niceties that life could offer. A small mid terrace house hidden amongst the dozens of similar ones, Gareth approached the dark and unloved porch. The light was broken, a large crack in a step made Gareth stumble as he approached the door, unable to see a doorbell he knocked lightly. A light turned on inside the house and the door opened. Josef looked dishevelled, worried and hadn’t slept since their last meeting and allowed himself to get worked up. A characteristic he didn’t recognise in himself, but he had never been conspired against before. Whether it was just Roger and William or it involved more, he had witnessed nothing like it. The money had dirtied everything. Seeing Gareth offered him no further comfort.
“I spoke with Cahill. Can I come in?” Josef stepped aside and Gareth entered.
The door had just clicked shut when Gareth pounced. He whipped out a small kitchen knife he'd stashed up his sleeve and plunged it into Josef's stomach. Josef reeled backwards in shock as much as pain staring at Gareth unable to find the words to ask why?
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” Gareth didn’t want this, but he needed to it. Josef regained some sense and survival kicked in, he clutched his stomach and stumbled through the hallway to the kitchen.
“Please, no.” He begged. It wasn’t his time, he had so much more to achieve. Gareth followed, the bloody blade dripping blood onto the wooden floor.
“You should have left it alone, why couldn't you just fucking let it go? You could have moved on!”
Josef looked for something to defend himself with and picked up a solid wooden chopping board. Again Gareth lunged with the knife, Josef partially fended off the blow, the blade slipping off the board slicing open several of Josef's fingers. Josef struck out at his attacker landing a blow to Gareth’s head with the chopping board, victory was short lived. Injured, off balance and using his shield as a weapon he left himself open and Gareth took his opportunity. He grabbed Josef by the throat and planted the knife just under Josef's ear. Josef fell back and pulled Gareth with him to the floor, the knife eased out bringing with it a thick slew of dark red blood.
“Die, just die.” Gareth repeatedly stabbed Josef in the throat until the doctor's eyes drained of their horror, replaced with a sad stare fixed on Gareth.
Gareth felt exhausted and rolled himself off of Josef. The blood leaking onto the floor slowing as Josef's heart made its final beats. It was a bloodbath, and this wasn't the plan. Gareth looked at the corpse beside him.
“You stupid fuck.” He said simultaneously to Josef and himself. He knew he hadn’t finished his work, he had a robbery to stage, prints to wipe and DNA to purge. He got to his feet and started to search the kitchen cupboards and found what he was looking for, several cleaning products, bleach, a bottle of Vodka and matches.
He started throwing the cleaning products all over the bloody scene, taking little care as to be effective. The chemicals washed through the blood, spreading it further around the body, doing little to clean the scene. Next Gareth started looking for anything combustible, Josef's large collection of books fitted this bill. He threw them on and around the lifeless body, only stopping to rip out fistfuls of pages to scatter amongst the books. The volume of books took longer to move than he'd envisaged and he was aching to get away, he hastened his pace and then as soon as he was reasonably happy he poured on the Vodka and started with the matches. The first three matches fizzled out without even singeing the paper he gripped firmly in his hand. Striking several matches at once and holding it to the paper, success. He dabbed this around the pile of books and alcohol, first with smoke, then with small flames the fire began to take hold.
He waited a moment, just to make sure the fire continued to grow, within moments Gareth felt satisfied and edged towards the front door, spilling shelves of their contents as he walked. He stopped briefly to compose himself then confidently exited the house, the growing glow illuminating his silhouette.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PETER EDGED OUT from the last row of houses and could see the yellow fields of rapeseed the road led to. It had been slow going through the residential areas, but finally he was close to the expanse of the countryside. A police checkpoint was visible a few hundred meters further down the road, he'd become used to abandoned cars, but there were more here. The checkpoint had maybe twenty or thirty cars, some turned over, a few more burnt out. And there was movement. It was hard to tell, but there were at least a hundred figures milling around the scene. Peter hoped they were people, but he knew they weren't. He heard the now familiar loud groan from the group ahead. This road was not the way out of town. He could go back, but that didn't appeal, so he decided he would press forward. The crops in the fields were maybe a meter tall, he may sneak through unnoticed by the mob, it would be slow going but he could do it. It might take an hour of crawling, but once clear of the checkpoint he could pick up the speed.
He jogged across to a gap in the low hedgerow opening on to the field, careful to stay low and not attract attention. He paused and fixed a point in the distance to follow, hoping it’d keep him from veering back towards the road. The smell of the rapeseed struck him. It was a change to the scent of death and rotting flesh he'd grown used to and a welcome distraction. He got on his hands and knees and began the slow and deliberate crawl, mop handle in one hand, cricket bat in the other. Within a few feet it already felt like hard work, pushing through the crops wasn't as easy as he thought it would be, the uneven hard ground scraped on his clenched fists. Visibility was only a few feet ahead, and it didn't take long before Peter climbed to his knees to look at the path ahead and towards the checkpoint. All was well.
He continued, aware that he had to stay at a slow pace to minimise the movement of the yellow flowers above or the noise that they made. Aware of every crunch of dirt, snap of a stem and every distant groan. Within twenty minutes he was halfway across the first field, the slight rustle as he moved kept him on constant edge. He again rested and listened. The rustling continued. He got to his knees and glanced over to the road. He was closer now and could see the figures, there was a big one like he had seen before the rest were a mix of the creatures. Fresh ones, old ones, damaged ones, young and old. Peter guessed there was probably every variety of the infected all b
ouncing off of cars at this one failed checkpoint.
The rustling continued, Peter looked around and stopped dead. About ten feet ahead he could see something moving through the crops. He clenched his cricket bat and waited, praying to himself it would somehow change course and go in the other direction. His breathing gained pace as his heart pounded in his chest. It drew closer and Peter tensed, ready to strike. It picked up pace and lunged towards him. A West Highland terrier. Its coat was matted with dirt and blood, it was thin and hungry, the Westie let out a low growl as it spotted Peter.
Did he bash it? Was it infected? It was just a fucking dog, trying to survive like him. “Shoo, skedaddle, scarper.” he whispered hard. The little white dog continued to growl, then it happened. It barked. Peter's heart could have stopped. It barked again and again. Peter slammed the bat down on the dog's head, it yelped and limply fell onto its side. He looked over at the checkpoint and could see the first of the things trying to climb over the small fence to get to him and this tiny mutt. One made it, then another, as they threw themselves over the fence they got back onto their feet and started staggering towards Peter. He looked down at the small dog full of remorse as its leg twitched and it struggled for life.
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