‘It’s probably worse than that,’ Maddox cuts in, bringing everyone’s attention to him. ‘You bring something like that into the world and people would rise up. Where me and Mo come from, there’s millions of people living like that, hand to mouth and too sick to do anything but suddenly they’re not sick or weak and that breaks some of the control over them, they rise up and fight back and it all goes very bad very quickly…yeah, sounds amazing, everyone cured of everything but something like that would shake the balance of power and it’s only a button to press to start throwing nukes about…’
‘Jesus,’ Paula says, looking back to Reginald.
‘Sadly so,’ the small man says with a sight. ‘Neal deduced with a high probability that a release of the Panacea would result in the use of nuclear and other weapons of mass destruction that could very well put humanity into negative evolution…however, Neal, and many of his colleagues also affirmed there was a clear moral obligation to release it and no person possessing such a thing could ever withhold it on the basis of governmental actions because in time, humanity would once again find it’s feet and continue to evolve.’
‘But they didn’t,’ Howie says, his voice low. ‘They didn’t release it.’
‘Sadly no. I rather gather the project was taken over by fanatical zealots who believed they could cull the population to kill 98% and then release the Panacea on the remaining 2%...the theory being that although the zombie version as you call it, would have a devastating effect, that effect would be limited to the human species. Look outside. What do you see? Empty houses. Empty roads. The cars are still there. The buildings, the airports, the power stations…the infrastructure is still there. The only change is the people are gone…Indeed. Cull the population and give the remaining 2% the world that is left to exist in a Utopia where everything they ever need is given…’
‘What’s 2% of seven billion?’ Blowers asks.
‘140 million,’ Paula replies. ‘Accountant,’ she adds at the looks coming her way.
‘140 million is still a lot,’ Clarence says.
‘Indeed, enough to pick up and continue our species,’ Reginald says then waits in the reflective silence. Sipping his herbal tea while others drink their coffees and teas. He studies the faces as he waits, seeing those invested in the conversation while some others simply wait to be told what it is and what to do. Thinkers and doers. He knows Charlie has already worked the next bit out but is staying quiet for fear of being that person that always has the answer before everyone else. Maddox isn’t far off either.
Howie scratches his head, wincing as he thinks. ‘Got a smoke, Nick?’
‘Sure,’ Nick says, pulling his battered packet out to pass round as Roy and Clarence tut and move a short distance away.
‘No I don’t smoke, thank you,’ Tappy says as the packet is offered. ‘Unless it’s weed…’
‘You smoke weed?’ Mo asks her.
‘Yeah,’ she scoffs with a grin. ‘Not all the time, but you know…’
‘Is it nice?’ Paula asks.
‘You never tried it?’ Tappy asks.
‘No never, I thought I smoked a joint in college, but I was drunk and puked… we should get some and try.’
‘Great idea,’ Roy mutters. ‘We can inject some Heroin while we’re there…’
‘Okay,’ Howie says, cutting in with a look from Charlie to Reginald. ‘It’s gone wrong, hasn’t it…the zombie thing I mean…the fuckers that released it…they didn’t realise it would gain sentience.’
‘I rather think that is the case,’ Reginald says. ‘Although this is now purely conjecture, I would suggest that something has indeed, gone wrong, and that whomever released the blasted thing in no way accounted for the sentience it would gain.’
‘Charlie?’ Cookey whisper shouts. ‘Why’s it got a sentence?’
‘Sentience, it means the infection has become aware of itself.’
‘Okay thanks,’ Cookey whispers shouts. ‘What’s that mean?’ he adds.
Reginald smiles round at the chuckles in reaction to Cookey’s impeccable comedic timing. ‘Now that, young Alex, is a very good question.’
‘Is it? Yeah, I mean…course it is. I’m asking for Blowers…cos he’s a thick fucker…’
‘Charlie?’ Reginald asks.
‘You don’t need me to explain everything…’
‘We do,’ Paula says quickly.
‘It’s self,’ Charlie says, thinking hard on how to explain it. ‘An awareness of me…like an AI in the movies. Artificial intelligence…a development of consciousness. So Jess and Meredith don’t really have awareness of themselves…they don’t know they’re a dog and a horse, they can’t really understand their own reflections or have a grasp of their inner selves or conscious thought. That’s what we have and it’s what separates us from every other species on this planet because a human, or a sentient mind, can understand abstract notions like religion for instance. Why am I alive? What for? For what purpose? Love. Honour. Courage. Integrity. All of those things don’t really exist, yet we feel they do. Art is another example. Why draw pictures? Why copy what is around us? We do it because without realising it we are studying our environment and trying to see how we fit into it…while Jess and Meredith just accept those environments…’ she pauses to think again. ‘Laws are another example. They are entirely made up…but we adhere to them as a concept, as an idea and collectively we all think those laws will bind us as a society? It’s abstract and not real but to us, it is…it’s those things that put us at the top of the food chain. We are the apex predators of this planet…so for another species to gain that same awareness of self, that same ability to have abstract thought and see us as a threat to itself is very dangerous…that, coupled with the fact they’re faster, stronger and don’t feel pain means they can advance beyond what humans are and if left unchecked they will become the apex predators and be the ruling species…’
‘I’ve got such a total girl crush going on…’ Tappy says.
‘Fuck off,’ Charlie says, blushing at the sight of everyone other than Dave raising a hand in agreement. ‘Idiots…’
‘So how long have we got before they become ape predators?’ Cookey asks.
‘Apex,’ Blowers coughs.
‘What Blowers said,’ Cookey says.
‘Until they pick up a weapon,’ Dave says, his voice hard and flat, bringing an instant silence.
‘Which they will do unless we slow that evolution,’ Reginald says after a pause. ‘Which takes us back to Mr Howie’s original answer when you asked what the plan is. We need to determine if we are facing one host controlling them, or lots of hosts…’
‘And how exactly do we do that?’ Paula asks. ‘Find one and ask it?’
‘I’ve given that very question a great deal of thought,’ Reginald replies. ‘And yes, that is exactly what we need to do.’
‘Awesome. Best plan ever,’ Howie says. ‘Find the baddie Marcy motherfucker and kill it to save the world then go find the fuckers in the secret mountain place that made it all happen so Blowers can punch them on the nose.’
‘Or, we could do plan B,’ Marcy says. ‘Which is when you all go back to the fort and let the real Marcy deal with the bad Marcy and fix it.’
Howie frowns, thinking for a second. ‘Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?’
‘Yes.’
‘So vain.’
‘Leg humper.’
‘Okay,’ Clarence says. ‘Anyone for another brew?’
‘Yeah why not,’ Howie says. ‘Mine’s a coffee…’
‘Not for my team,’ Blowers says to a collective groan. ‘We need to drill.’
Seventeen
Day Eighteen
The boy wakes early. The rays of sunlight dancing across his eyes and in the way of a small child he goes from deep sleep to wide awake in one second flat and sits up to look round as the infection takes in the new day.
The boy trots to the bathroom to wee then runs across t
he landing to the room he saw Cassie put her bags yesterday, rushing in to dive in her bed and snuggle down in the warmth but he stops dead, seeing her bed made and empty. A frown. A pause and he about turns to run onto the landing, standing to think before pushing Gregori’s door open.
Cassie and Gregori snap awake from the thud of the door opening. Naked in bed. Gregori spooning her from behind. Warm and snug and sleepy. Small feet running and their eyes go wide as they dive left and right, springing from the bed as the boy lands with a laugh. The two adults grabbing towels to cover naked forms, their actions guilty, their faces guiltier.
‘I fell asleep,’ Cassie blurts.
‘Sleep,’ Gregori says.
The boy laughs and burrows into the warm bed, pulling the covers over his body.
‘We were just chatting and…’ Cassie says urgently, her face marked with sleep lines, her hair all over the place.
‘Chat, yes,’ Gregori grunts, pauses and legs it from the room into the bathroom. ‘BOY! NO WEE ON FLOOR…’
‘Coffee,’ Cassie mutters. ‘Need coffee,’ she walks off, looking at the bed and thinking maybe it’s not the place for the boy to be sleeping in. Not after what they did last night. All night. After Gregori recovered from his first time. He’s a fit man, that’s for sure. ‘Come on, breakfast…’
Ten minutes later the boy eats his tinned fruit from a bowl. A glass of juice on the table. Cassie still in the towel, pottering about in a daze. ‘Cereals,’ she says, ruffling his hair as she puts another bowl down next to the bowl of fruit.
‘But I’ve got fruit, Casseeee.’
‘Good boy,’ she kisses the top of his head, glancing at his drawing of two women dressed as hockey players. One stocky. The other slim with darker skin. Gregori walks in. A pause. A look between them. She swallows. He stares. ‘Coffee?’ she asks.
‘Yes. Coffee.’
The look holds. Eyes locked. The night was amazing. The feel of it still lingering in the air. ‘Er, you okay here for a minute?’ she asks the boy who nods and draws and eats Frosties from a bowl. ‘Great! Er, just got to show Gregori something upstairs…’ she runs off, grabbing Gregori’s hand as she runs past. Feet on the stairs. A door closing. A thud as they hit the bed that starts bouncing up and down on the floor above the boy who draws on.
‘OH MY GOD…’
‘Shush!’
‘Shit, sorry…’
Howie will come back at them today. The infection knows this. It has resources ready. It has hosts ready. It will wait for him to show and flood that area. It’s been eighteen days since it started and the infection’s evolution continues. Growing by the hour. Seeing everything in all places at the same time. Millions of lives. Billions of memories. Trillions of facts and figures that it rifles through, processing and absorbing, seeking context, seeking understanding.
‘I’M COMING…DON’T STOP…’
The boy draws on. Hearing the muffled voice from upstairs but not interested. His mind filled with images and his hand moving faster. Mathematics. History. Sciences. Languages. Geography. Geology. The subjects of understanding to grasp the world in which they live but the humans pawed at these things like cavemen trying to make fire. The infection has it all in one place but still without the ability grasp the entirety of it.
‘YES…YES…YESSSSSS!’
The boy does pause. His head turning up to the solid fast thump on the ceiling above that gets faster as Cassie shouts out then it stops suddenly, and he blinks and draws on as the infection does what the whole of humanity does and seeks to know its place in this world.
‘So, good morning again…’ Cassie says brightly, sweeping into the room a short time later. Her face flushed but now showered and dressed.
‘Is good, yes,’ Gregori says deeply, seriously. Crossing to the back door. ‘I check.’
‘Yes, of course, you go check and I’ll make sex…I meant coffee…not sex…’
‘Why are we here?’ the boy asks, the infection asks.
‘Pardon?’ Cassie asks.
‘Why are we here?’
‘Gregori chose it. He wants somewhere isolated to keep the things away.’
‘Why do we have life?’ the infection asks.
‘Oh, wow, now that’s a deep question,’ she says, lowering into a seat at the table and sliding one of the pages over. ‘Charlie and Blinky…’ she reads the names, once again marvelling at how a child of his age can not only draw so well but write so words so perfectly. ‘Er so life? Well, I guess we’re a species like any other that has evolved from something else into what we are now, and I think every species has a fundamental priority to survive and reproduce…’
The boy blinks, the infection listens and she sees the ageless look in the child’s eyes then glances down to the drawings with a light frown. ‘I mean, that’s the priority of any species, isn’t it? To survive but then we have to ask why? Do we survive for the pleasure of surviving or do we survive to live and if we live then what for? Have you heard of the hierarchy of needs?’
‘No,’ the boy says. ‘Yes,’ the infection says, knowing all things but not understanding all things.
‘We need air to breathe or we die,’ she says as Gregori walks in. A look between them A shared smile that was different to the way they looked at each other yesterday. ‘Now we have air, but we need water, or we die. Now we have water, but we need food, or we die. Now we have food, but we need shelter, or we die. Now we have shelter but we need safety, or we die. We gain safety, but we need to reproduce, or our species will die. We find someone to reproduce with…’ she smiles at Gregori’s back as he makes drinks at the counter. ‘But that is not enough. To make babies I want to feel loved and accepted. I want my babies to grow in a world and be educated and understand…do you see? With each thing I achieve and gain, so something else becomes a desire, another need…and that marks the difference between us and other species…mostly. I say mostly as studies have shown that whales and dolphins have complex societal relationships…ooh look at you making me a coffee,’ she beams as Gregori places the cup on the table in front of her. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘Is no bother.’
‘Anyway, did that answer the question?’
The boy blinks. ‘Yes,’ the infection says.
Cassie frowns again and then a second later she glances to Gregori and all thoughts of anything else are gone and the morning wears on as the boy draws and plays and the infection sets to another day of cat and mouse with Howie who is working a route of town to town then they change it. Hit a town. Miss a town. The infection can see the pattern they are using. Simple and stupid.
‘Not so hard…I’m getting sore…oh…oh wow…oh god…OH MY GOD…’ the bed upstairs bangs again by late morning. The rhythmic pounding on the floor as the boy sings to himself in the kitchen.
‘Oh wow, what’s that?’ A ruddy-faced, dishevelled Cassie asks, plonking down in the chair at the table. Sweat on her forehead. Her hands trembling. Gregori walks in. His own face sheened with perspiration. ‘Is that a map?’ she asks, blinking at the sheet. ‘Foxwood…Hydehill…Brookley…Flitcombe…what is all this?’ she takes in the hand-drawn map like something a cartographer would produce. The words neat and precise. A very basic outline of a route but enough to understand and that same unsettled feeling comes back again. That she is not just talking to the boy but the thing inside him.
‘Howie will attack these towns,’ the boy says, the infection says.
‘Oh,’ Cassie says, looking up as Gregori moves to her side.
‘Why?’ Gregori asks, pulling the map closer.
The boy stares up, blue eyes, angelic-faced, and his blonde hair tussled and standing up. He smiles, all toothy and silly then Cassie sees the change stealing in his eyes. ‘Howie wants to kill the hosts…he says they are evil.’
‘No,’ Gregori says, ignoring what the boy said. ‘Why these towns? They important? They target?’
‘Hit a town. Miss a town,’ the boy says, the infection says
. ‘It is a pattern. There are towns in between that he will not attack…’
‘What this?’ Gregori asks, resting his finger on the last town on the map.
‘Stenbury,’ Cassie reads.
‘They will wait for Howie there,’ the boy says, the infection says.
‘Is no good,’ Gregori says with a frown. ‘Your enemy know where you will be then you will die. No do what the enemy think.’
‘There are many. Howie is few.’
‘A bigger force is no matter,’ Gregori says. ‘I fight bigger force. I one. I light. I move faster. I think faster. A big force needs the man in charge. It need command and the orders. A big force lose. I say this; you put bigger force in this place, in Stenbury, I go there…I kill all. Is easy. No do what enemy think…’
‘Totally agree,’ Cassie says, filling the silence that follows. ‘Anyway, I need some air. Frisbee?’
‘Yay!’ the boy says, back to the boy and just the boy as the infection withdraws to be in many places at the same time and see many things as the hosts pour across the countryside towards Stenbury.
The afternoon passes and the day of battles wages on with each a success for Howie but each a success for the infection who draws them on to Stenbury. They play frisbee in the garden while in the distance they see the things standing. Now seemingly knowing they can’t come closer for fear of Gregori killing them.
‘Time to move house again?’ Cassie asks lightly, throwing the disc to Gregori.
‘Make go, Boy,’ Gregori says, throwing it on to the boy.
‘It’s not his fault,’ Cassie says as the boy chases after the frisbee. ‘He’s not making them come here. They’re drawn to him…and you know what? I feel better knowing they are here…’
Foxwood. Hydehill. Brookley. Flitcombe. Battles fought. Hosts lost. Stenbury is ready. The infection has many and the battle starts as they go inside to shelter and rest, to drink water, juice and tea. To eat mushy peas and tinned fruit and listen to music.
The Undead: Day 22 Page 22