“Do you think you would be up to telling me about what you saw?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good, I wouldn’t ask so soon, but it’s important. Come on, we’ll head back to your dorm so we have some privacy. Plus, I have some photos for you.”
“Okay, let’s go,” he said, with a fraction more enthusiasm.
The Dorm was empty when we arrived. We sat at the table and faced each other.
“Take as little or as much time as you need and tell me if you need a drink of water or anything.”
“You sound like a counsellor,” Luke grinned. I couldn’t help but return his grin, not because I thought his crack was particularly funny; it was just good to see him smile.
He seemed to be okay once he got started and I let him talk freely, only asking questions at certain points.
After Ben had secured the grill behind him, Luke had set out on his journey in the cramped confines of the ducting. He admitted that it was a lot snugger than he had been expecting and after only a few minutes of the awkward shuffling he had begun to regret volunteering.
The corners were the worst and he had to negotiate one just a few feet after he had started. It had turned left and seemed to roughly follow the main corridor. After about thirty minutes of shuffling in the cramped, hot space, he had taken a right turn. By that time, he had lost all sense of direction and progress but he thought he may have ended somewhere near the lobby. It was at that point he realised that his wound was bleeding but couldn’t be sure when it had started.
He had eventually arrived at a place where his duct intersected with a bunch of others. A hub that was almost big enough for him to stand up in. He took a moment here to congratulate himself on his decision to tuck the iPhone into his briefs, without its glow he would have been blind. This ‘way station’ as he called it, was a large box like structure that had ducting leading off in four directions as well as a larger vertical shaft that led up to the Professor’s level and down into the military level. Both the upper and lower entrances were sealed by a wired mesh hatch, but thankfully had a small maintenance ladder that seemed to run the entire length of the vertical shaft.
Luke took the opportunity to have a rest, stretching and taking some water while he could. He used his chalk to mark the opening he had emerged from and cursed himself when he realised he had forgotten to mark the first two turns he had taken. He didn’t worry about that then, plenty of time to worry about it when he was trying to find his way back.
He turned his attention to the hatch leading to the upper level. It wasn’t locked, just held in place by hinges and closed by two bolt locks. Before he opened it, Luke briefly contemplated the possibility of it being alarmed, but couldn’t see any obvious wiring or cables—besides, it wasn’t as if he could (or wanted to) turn back after coming so far.
Holding his breath, he had slipped the bolts and swung the hatch down. He didn’t hear an alarm, but that didn’t mean anything. It could be blaring in another part of the facility and he wouldn’t know. He checked the edge of the hatch door. Definitely no wires there. Feeling a little better about it, he left the hatch hanging down behind him and began to climb.
He thought it was about twenty feet before he came to another hatch. Again, a quick inspection told him it wasn’t alarmed, and he unlatched it, pushing upwards. This one was heavier than he expected and to his horror, he was unable to hold it as it fell open. He had flinched, but the crash he had expected didn’t come, the hinges halting it silently an inch or so above the sheet metal of the ducting.
Again, relieved and feeling more optimistic, he climbed through that hatch and found himself in another hub, this one a lot smaller. This time there were four ducts, each going off in a different direction.
He had no idea which direction to try first and he decided to use trial and error, hoping due to his waning strength that he picked the right opening the first or second time. He wasn’t sure he would have enough energy to try more than two and still get back safely.
Having lost all sense of direction, he wasn’t even able to make an educated guess, so at that point he had resorted to Eeny, meeny, miny, moe to decide which duct to explore. It was a very Luke thing to do and I suppressed a little chuckle when he told me. The duct he had decided upon seemed to run back in the same direction he had come from on Midlevel, so he was quite happy with it.
He had set off and it was a good ten minutes before he came upon the first offshoot. He took the hard-right turn and after a minute came upon a vent overlooking a vast lab. There were five men and a woman in lab coats and face masks working in the lab.
“As you would expect, they were doing science stuff,” he said. “Looking in microscopes, fussing with centrifuge equipment and other stuff I didn’t recognize.”
While he didn’t know any of the other scientists, none of us did, he had wanted to be sure that Professor Leahy wasn’t in there. He didn’t really learn anything else of value but watched them until he could confirm that Leahy wasn’t present. From his vantage, he had strained to see as far as he could to the left and saw a door in the wall on that side. That meant that there might be more rooms further along the main duct.
He backed carefully out the offshoot and into the main duct before proceeding further along. He eventually came to another offshoot and crawled into that. The room at the end of this was about half the size and looked more heavy duty than the other lab he had seen. It had a glass or Perspex ceiling a foot or so below the vent and seemed to be hermetically sealed. The two scientists in here were in full hazmat outfits, their features obscured by the fluorescent light reflected from the Perspex covers over their faces.
While Luke watched from the vent, a door opened with a hiss almost directly below him. A new person entered the room. This one was similarly attired and carried a small aluminum container that looked a little like a coffee flask. The newcomer took the flask over to a large desk upon which a glass box sat. It was about the size of a picnic cooler and had an oversized microscope attached to it. Luke watched the newcomer screw the flask like object to a small circular opening on the side.
He heard the newly arrived scientist tell the other two that this was the last blood sample, and that the subject was in the final stages of the disease. “He won’t see out the day.”
My stomach turned as Luke told me. It was Sonny they were talking about. Luke knew straight away but at that stage had still held out a small hope that perhaps it wasn’t their friend, that perhaps it was the other man Paul had seen while he was in hospital.
Luke watched as one of the other scientists had inserted his arms into two fist size openings on the long side of the cabinet. Soon the thick rubber gloves inside came to life and began to move. Luke watched as they reached into the flask and removed a glass slide. He saw a smear of red on the glass and watched as the scientist deftly placed it onto the stage of the microscope inside the box.
“Goddamn, look at those little fuckers go. That chink should be dead already…”
They had all laughed at this and for a moment, Luke had thought seriously about bashing his way out of the vent and killing the bastards with his bare hands. It was Sonny and they were laughing about it. Common sense had prevailed and burning with a cold rage he had backed out of the duct to the main line again. He could see no light coming from the direction that would lead further down that main duct, so awkwardly turned around so that he could crawl forwards, and back to the hub on that level.
Luke had another short break and some water once he got there, all the while fighting his grief and anger. At that point time was of the essence, if he found Sonny he could still maybe get him out of there. Luke now picked the duct immediately to the left of the first one he had chosen. It seemed logical that one of the closest two may lead to wherever they were holding Sonny.
This time he was lucky…or unlucky, as the case may be. Luke fully admitted that by that time he was struggling. Even though his anger was fuelling him to go on, he
had doubts about being able to physically follow another duct if this one proved fruitless. As it was, he had to rest several times, lying still for a few minutes every thirty feet or so. After two such stops he finally saw light from the opening of an off-shoot duct in the distance.
He entered the off-shoot warily, because even before he reached it he could hear muffled voices. He squeezed into the slightly smaller duct and inched his way the last few feet, doing his best to control his ragged breathing. He finally reached it and slowly pressed his face to the grill, squinting to allow his eyes to adapt to the harsh artificial light.
From the description that followed, I knew it was the same place I had visited Sonny the week before. Luke found himself overlooking another glass roofed corridor. Again, it was about a foot below his vantage point. He could see that a heavy glass airlock sealed the corridor and the cells from the rest of the facility and that it was guarded by Homeland Security. Both of the cells he looked down upon contained a cot and a sink, as well as a toilet.
One thing was different though. The cell next to Sonny’s was occupied. It was a Caucasian man that Luke didn’t recognize. He was skinny and pale with thinning hair. He was sitting calmly on a chair, staring into the room next to his.
“The adult survivor that Paul saw in the hospital…but what about Sonny?” I was unable to bear the tension of his story.
“He was there, in the next room. I just didn’t see him at first…” His voice cracked.
In the other cell stood three men in hazmat suits. They were standing over the cot. It was then that Luke observed the shape of a body under the blanket, wires stretching from it to a vital sign monitor standing beside the cot.
As he watched, trying to make out for sure if it was Sonny, the figure beneath the blanket coughed, a harsh phlegmy cough not dissimilar to that his parents had displayed in the hours before their death. Luke could see a spray of bloody mucus on the wall by the bed—whoever the person under the blanket was, they couldn’t be far from death now. Luke began crying.
“I mean, I knew it was him…I just couldn’t admit it to myself, as if admitting it would make it true.”
I didn’t try to console him, I knew nothing I could say or do would help. We kind of had to face up to the terribleness of it to get past it. Luke had paused for a moment, gathering himself before continuing with his tale.
Even though they were behind glass and their voices muffled by the filtration devices on their masks, he could just make out what the three men were saying. The tallest figure turned to one carrying a clipboard.
“How long has it been?”
“Twenty-six hours and nineteen minutes since infection, sir.”
“Hmm not as quick as I had hoped, how long before he was incapacitated?”
“Well because he was confined to a cell, it’s hard to put an exact timeline on it—in a real world situation he would possibly have stayed mobile for longer—but he hasn’t gotten out of the cot since eighteen hours and twenty-seven minutes post infection.”
“How long now?”
“Judging by his vital signs, he should decease within thirty minutes.”
As they were talking, a series of harsh coughs wracked the person under the blanket who then, with a supreme effort, threw the blanket aside. It was Sonny. Or more accurately, the hollow shell of Sonny. Luke hardly recognised him. Their friend was emaciated, and his skin was an unhealthy grey color. He was covered in a sheen of sweat.
“His face was the worst,” Luke said, with tears in his eyes. “He looked like a zombie. There were dark shadows under his eyes and he had blood and green snot running out of his nose down onto his mouth and chin.”
To the surprise of the men standing over him, Sonny had managed to make it into a sitting position and looked defiantly at his tormentors.
“Congratulations…” he had gurgled. “You’ve done it…how does it feel to be…” At this point he began coughing. Blood and mucus sprayed from his mouth and two of the men stepped back sharply while the third stood his ground, wearing the spray of gore on the legs of his protective suit. “…murderers?”
“Well, I think that’s enough,” said the tall figure, ignoring Sonny’s question. "Incapacitation is the important milestone, not when they finally expire…” He nodded to the man who had been splattered by Sonny’s cough. “End it, Mr. Ragg.”
The man holding the clipboard had reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a syringe, offering it to Mr. Ragg.
“Here.”
Luke had gripped the grill of the vent and began to strain against it. Ragg had turned and through his Perspex mask, Luke had seen a humorless smile on his face as he turned away from the other man without taking the syringe.
As Ragg turned to him, a shivering Sonny had fought his way to his feet. It seemed he had decided he wouldn’t make it easy for them. He stood swaying slightly, his feet apart, and brought his closed fists up. It was a supreme effort of mind over matter and for just that one brief moment, Luke dared to hope.
That hope was shattered when Ragg walked purposefully to Sonny, brushing aside his feeble punch and gripping the sick man’s head in both of his gloved hands. He held him that way for a moment, oblivious to Sonny’s weak blows on his shoulders and side. Then he viciously twisted his hands.
The muffled crack of Sonny’s neck breaking was terrible, but even more terrible was the way Ragg turned his victim’s head back to face him and looked into his eyes as their friend and mentor died.
Part Two: Decision Time
11
“NOOOO…” Luke had screamed helplessly, as he struggled to push the grill out of its frame. Ragg’s head whipped around, his eyes now trained on the vent.
Luke swallowed a sob and ceased struggling to push his way out of the vent. Without taking his eyes off Luke’s hiding place, Ragg released Sonny’s head and allowed his limp body to collapse to the floor.
Luke knew that the killer couldn’t actually see him, but he felt like they were staring at each other.
“You know what, Isaac? One time when I was hunting with my dad, I nearly stepped on a copperhead snake. I was only like twelve and I froze up…scared spit-less. It was just staring at me with those dead eyes, ready to strike and I couldn’t look away. Not until my dad came up and pulled me slowly away from it. That’s what Ragg’s eyes were like. Dead fucking snake eyes.”
Luke had watched a moment longer through tear blurred eyes before adrenalin had kicked in and he frantically shuffled backwards along the duct, anxious to be away from the malevolent gaze of Ragg. He heard muffled yelling and after what seemed like an eternity, reached the main duct, scrabbling around the corner and shuffling along it as quickly as he could.
He had just scrambled over the edge into the upper hub when he heard a happy voice echo from behind him.
“Aww don’t go… why don’t you come back and play… you can join your friend.”
It was Ragg and Luke wasn’t afraid to admit that he nearly shat his pants. Ragg was back there and calling into the vent that Luke had so recently vacated. Energized by the adrenalin coursing through his system, he half climbed, half fell down the ladder to the main hub on the middle level without shutting the hatch behind him. He quickly pulled out his phone so he could see which of the ducts he had marked and climbed in.
He heard the voice behind him again. Fainter now, but somehow worse because of the creepy sing song quality it took on.
“Come out, come out wherever you arrrreeee!”
Luke wasn’t sure if Ragg was now in the ducts and following him or still calling out from the vent, but he didn’t plan hang around and find out. He took off, crawling and scrabbling back the way he had come. He didn’t stop to rest until he reached a junction of three shafts and even then, it was through necessity. He had forgotten to mark this spot with his chalk. He sat there, frustrated and cursing for valuable seconds trying to figure out which one it was. The stakes were high…if he took the wrong duct he could end up anywhere
, and it would mean almost certain discovery if they did a head count.
In the end it was his own wound that saved him. By the light of the phone he was able to spot a small smear of blood on the lip of one of the narrower ducts. Yes! He crawled into it and moved as quickly as he could in the more confined space, spurred on by the fact that he was almost back to the dorm.
“Well, you know the rest.”
I was numb, but whatever I was feeling must have been amplified a hundred times for Luke. He was clearly traumatized by what he had seen, and I had the terrible feeling that there would be more of the same trauma to come.
“You did well Luke,” I said, and patted him on the shoulder, my words sounding woefully inadequate to my own ears.
He shook his head. I had to try and take his mind of what he’d experience.
“So we know they’ve got the virus and killed Sonny to test it. Did you see any clue about how they’ll get it out there though?”
“No idea…” he said, not taking his eyes off the floor.
“When will this shit ever end? I hate what the Chinese did as much as anyone, but how will killing more people help?”
I reflected how quickly a person’s opinion could change. Just two months ago I would have been all for an ‘eye for an eye’… and Luke would have cheered me on. I guess what we had experienced in the Facility, the worst of human nature by our own people, had influenced us more than I thought.
“Don’t you get it, Isaac? It’s what human beings do. We make war over and over and over again. Man won’t ever stop fighting until there’s just a handful of us left on the whole planet…and even that won’t stop them. Then it will be over a girl, or food or shelter. Albert Einstein said he didn’t know what weapons would be used to fight World War 3 but he knew that World War 4 would be fought with sticks and stones.”
America Falls (Book 3): Cold Comfort Page 6