Decimation: The Girl Who Survived

by Burke, Richard T.

  Jason hung his head then glanced at his mother. She fixed him with her gaze. “I suppose.”

  “Good. I’m glad you understand, but you mustn’t mention this to a soul. As far as you’re concerned, she’s gone. Just forget about her.”

  “I assume her parents know she’s still alive though?” he asked.

  Rosalind hesitated for a moment. “At the moment, no. I don’t think that’s something they’d be able to hide, so it’s best for Antimone if we keep things that way for the time being.”

  “So you’re just letting them think their daughter’s dead when she’s actually alive and well?”

  Rosalind sighed. “Like I said, until we work out a treatment, it’s the best thing for her. That’s all we’re thinking about.”

  “Did she ask about me at all? Does she know I was the one who made her pregnant?”

  Rosalind’s tone hardened. “Look, Jason, didn’t I just say that you have to forget about her. She still thinks it was Floyd who raped her and no, she hasn’t asked about you. She’s still grieving for the loss of her baby.”

  “Alright, I’ll keep it to myself, but I want to talk to her,” he said, a note of belligerence entering his voice.

  Rosalind folded her arms and fixed him with an angry stare. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve just said? You have to put her out of your mind. Pretend she never existed. It’s for her good and your own – and the future of the human race. Now I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  “But Mum.”

  “Enough.”

  Jason wanted to argue with his mother. Even though he had been under the influence of mind-altering drugs at the time, he still felt partially responsible for Antimone’s death. Learning that she was alive had lifted a huge weight off his mind, and the fact of the matter was that he enjoyed her company. He still hadn’t come to terms with his feelings concerning the baby’s death. Technically the child was his son, but there was no real emotional attachment. Now that he knew Antimone had survived, he desperately needed to see her, but it was obvious that his mother had no intention of allowing that to happen. There was nothing to be gained by prolonging the argument, but he was already planning how to circumvent her mandate.

  “Alright then,” he said. “I’ll do what you say.”

  Chapter 43

  Sunday 9th January 2033

  Antimone coughed. Sharp, shooting pains sparked through her body.

  “I didn’t see him,” she mumbled through cracked lips. In her mind she heard the squeal of brakes, the car still hurtling towards her. A quick sideways glance, the shocked face of the elderly male driver, everything happening in slow motion. The force of the impact, limbs tangled together, the surface of the road rushing up to greet her then darkness. Then the sudden inrush of agonising pain, unable to draw breath, the panic as her muscles refused to obey her commands.

  “I can’t move. No!” Her head thrashed from side to side, the sheet clenched between her fingers. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt gritty, the eyelids gummed shut. Hysteria bubbled up inside her before first one then the other blinked open. Her gaze traversed the white ceiling, the featureless white walls and the door with the small window. The realisation grew that she was in the hospital room, lying on the bed.

  She felt like a herd of elephants had trampled her. The slightest movement sent a cascade of agony rippling outwards. Her head throbbed, and her throat felt as if she had swallowed a set of nail files. Her lethargic brain attempted to make sense of the excruciating sensations. Slowly it came back to her. They had told her they were going to perform a series of tests, but the after-effects were way beyond anything she had expected.

  With slow, microscopic movements, she raised her right arm and stared at it blearily. A white dressing was affixed to her wrist, another on her forearm. A grid of brown plasters covered the limb at regular intervals. She lifted her left arm. It was a carbon copy of the right. With trembling fingers, she picked at the edge of one of the plasters and peeled it back to reveal a small circular incision. A scab had started to form, surrounded by a circle of inflammation.

  She touched her face, feeling the outlines of at least six more plasters. A tight sensation drew her fingers to her scalp. Her fingertip brushed over bare skin then the surface of another plaster. Her delicate probing revealed a regular pattern of sample points across her skull. All her hair had been shaved off leaving her totally bald.

  Whilst the plaster-covered wounds felt tender and there were more of them, the dressings were the main source of the throbbing pain enveloping her body. She picked at the surgical tape securing one of the white squares. She winced as she slowly lifted the gauze material.

  The electronic beep of the door lock interrupted her efforts. A nurse entered and strode towards the bed. She gently took hold of Antimone’s wrist and placed it back on the sheets.

  “Glad to see you’re finally awake,” she said, “but that’s not a good idea. Those dressings need to be kept on for a few days. If you take them off now, you’ll be risking infection.”

  The woman had greying hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore a pale blue top that extended to just below her ample waist, and dark blue trousers. Her face was round and ruddy coloured. Her chin blended into her neck.

  “What the hell have you done to me?” Antimone asked, her voice coming out barely more than a whisper.

  “I’m sure they told you what they were going to do beforehand, but you probably weren’t paying attention. They’ve taken a series of skin biopsies. That’s where the plasters are. The white dressings cover the sites where they took bone marrow samples. They shaved your head to prevent hair getting in the wounds.”

  “They said they were going to do some tests,” Antimone rasped, “but they never said anything about drilling holes all over my body and shaving my hair off.”

  “I can give you some painkillers. That should help. You’ll feel a lot better in the morning.”

  Antimone groaned and closed her eyes.

  “I’ll be back in a sec.” The nurse bustled out of the room, closing the door behind her as she went.

  As soon as she was alone, Antimone picked at the dressing again. She lifted the edge to reveal an angry looking circular wound, several millimetres across. If what the woman had said was correct, and there was no reason to think otherwise, they had drilled through the skin into the centre of the bone to extract a sample of the marrow – and not just once, but all over her body. No wonder the pain was so intense. For the first time in her life, she was thankful she had no sensation in her legs. Gingerly, she pressed the surgical tape back into place.

  She glanced up as the nurse re-entered the room, carrying a bottle of pills.

  The nurse crossed to the small shower room and returned a few seconds later with a glass of water. She shook out two tablets and passed them to Antimone. “Here, you’ll feel a lot better after a couple of these but no fiddling with the dressings. After all you’ve been through, we don’t want you succumbing to a bacterial infection, do we? You’re far too valuable for that.”

  Antimone accepted the pills, placed them in her mouth and washed them down. She drained the glass and handed it back. “Can you get me a refill?”

  The woman retraced her steps and watched as Antimone drank a second glassful. “Okay now?”

  Antimone nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No.” Antimone sank back onto the pillow with a groan. The sharply focused stinging sensation on her back told her they had taken samples from there too.

  “You’ve been through a major procedure. I suggest you try and get some sleep. If you need anything, just shout. I’ll be keeping an eye on you through the monitor.”

  Antimone closed her eyes and remained immobile, waiting for the pain to subside. As she did so, something the nurse had said kept repeating in her head. You’re far too valuable for that. In a burst of insight, she realised that was how they saw her – a co
mmodity to be bought and sold. They weren’t interested in her wellbeing or that of her son. It was even possible they had no interest in preventing countless thousands of women from dying in childbirth. It was a business. Everything was geared to making money. They could have asked for her help, and she would willingly have offered it, but instead they had kept her a prisoner and performed experiments without her permission. They had refused to allow her to speak to her family and then threatened to withdraw her few remaining privileges if she didn’t cooperate.

  As the thoughts spun through her head, another realisation came to her. Nobody other than the hospital staff knew she was here. If they had lied to her about the medical procedures, could she trust them to inform her parents that she was still alive? Surely her mother and father would have insisted on visiting her by now or, at the very least, talking to her on the phone. If nobody knew she had survived, they could keep her here and perform whatever experiments they wanted until they had all the answers. And once they had their answers, what then?

  Her scalp prickled with anxiety as the implications of her situation hit home.

  How far would they go? What would they do with her when she was surplus to requirements?

  Chapter 44

  Wednesday 12th January 2033

  Jason stared out of the window of the coffee shop as two nurses walked past on their way home. Neither of them was the one he was looking for. It was just after six o’clock in the evening. He had been sitting here for three hours and was beginning to question the wisdom of his plan.

  The last few days had passed in a blur. He should have been excited about returning to school and meeting his friends after the Christmas break, but he couldn’t get the conversation with his mother out of his head. He had told her that he would forget about Antimone, but he had no intention of doing so. Several of the teachers had commented on his distracted state of mind, mistaking it for a lack of enthusiasm following the holidays.

  He had pondered his options but kept coming back to the same conclusion. He desperately wanted to talk to Antimone but didn’t want to alienate his mother. There was no way he could sneak past the security measures designed to keep people out of the basement laboratory a second time. Even if he did manage to get down there, a guard was stationed outside her room. The chances of being detected were too high, so where did that leave him?

  The only plan he could conjure up was to ask the nurse who had escorted him there previously to take a phone to Antimone so that they could at least have a conversation, even if it wasn’t face-to-face. He had therefore bought two cheap phones and had programmed into each of them the number of the other. If one of them was discovered in Antimone’s room, he didn’t want to make it easy for his mother to discover who she had been talking to by leaving his own number in the phone’s contact list.

  The plan had several flaws, not the least of which was how he would persuade the nurse to smuggle the mobile in. She seemed to be a decent person, and he hoped that he could convince her to help without coercing her. He wasn’t sure how far he was prepared to go if she chose not to assist, but he decided to worry about that if and when the time came. In the meantime, his biggest concern was locating her and putting forward his proposition.

  This was his third consecutive evening spent in the coffee shop. He only knew the nurse’s first name, Rose, and he had no idea at what time she started or finished work. He could have asked at reception, but there was a good chance he would be recognised. It would be doubly suspicious if he asked about the working patterns of a woman whose surname he couldn’t supply. He resolved to take that risk if he struck out for the third night in succession.

  Jason took a sip of his coffee, his second of the evening. The brown liquid was cold, and he gave a shiver of distaste before putting the cardboard cup down. His eyes followed a tall, balding man, heading outside. The man paused to chat to somebody entering the building carrying an open umbrella. As the person retracted the umbrella, Jason recognised the outline of the nurse. Finally.

  In his haste to get up, Jason knocked over the cup, spilling coffee across the surface. He snatched a paper napkin from the holder in the centre of the table and dropped it on the expanding puddle. It quickly absorbed the liquid, turning a pale brown colour. Cursing his clumsiness, he trotted towards the door and burst into the foyer. The woman was still chatting to the man, but a couple of seconds later the man waved his hand and pushed through the revolving door. The woman shook her umbrella and glanced up as Jason approached.

  “Oh, hi Rose,” Jason said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “I’ve got to start work in a few minutes,” Rose said, her face a mask of alarm. “I haven’t got time to talk.”

  “Maybe we could have a chat when you finish your shift or maybe another day.” He hadn’t considered the practicality of his suggestion before the words came out.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rose tried to edge past him.

  “I know Antimone’s alive.”

  Rose’s head jerked upwards as her eyes fixed on Jason’s. “You didn’t tell your mother, did you?” she asked, a tremble in her voice.

  Jason hesitated before replying. “Um, not yet. Could you just spare a minute for a quick chat?” he asked, gesturing towards the coffee shop.

  Rose glanced at her watch and seemed to make a mental calculation. “Okay, but I haven’t got long. My shift starts soon.”

  Jason re-entered the shop and took a seat at a table close to the door. Rose sat down opposite. “What’s this about?”

  “I know she survived. She’s a friend of mine, and I wondered if you could do me a favour.”

  Rose placed her hands on the table. “I don’t know. What sort of favour?”

  Jason pulled one of the phones from his pocket and positioned it in front of him. “I was hoping you might be able to give her this. I’ve programmed my number into it.”

  Rose’s face paled. “You’ve got to be joking. I’d be fired in the blink of an eye if they caught me taking a phone in. In any case, it wouldn’t work.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?” Jason leant forwards.

  “The basement is shielded from electromagnetic radiation,” she replied. “Mobiles just don’t work down there. Senior management have specially modified ones, but they’re custom-built.”

  “There must be phones there. How do the medical staff talk to other people in the company?”

  “They have land lines, but they’re carefully controlled and monitored, apart from which, they can only call other numbers in the building. All outside calls are blocked.”

  Jason sat back. “So there’s no way I can speak to her?”

  “Not a chance. Didn’t you see the guard sitting by her room?”

  “So what’s that all about?”

  “Keep her in and everybody else out,” said the nurse. “Look, I can’t help you. In any case, I’ll probably get fired if your mother even sees me after what happened on Saturday night.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “It was my own fault. No good deed goes unpunished.” Rose’s lips twitched in a half-smile. She got up to leave.

  “If I gave you a message, could you get it to her?”

  A look of trepidation flashed across the nurse’s face. “What sort of message?”

  “I don’t know.” Jason’s gaze alighted on the stack of napkins in the centre of the table. He grabbed one of them. “What if I wrote something on this?”

  She sat down. “Um, that’s not a good idea. I’m already on the brink of being fired.”

  “Look, what’s the harm in passing her a bit of paper? I already know she’s alive although my mother doesn’t know that I know.” He paused and met her gaze. “Yet.”

  Rose looked down at the floor. She held the position for a moment before raising her head. “Okay, but just the once. I’m planning to find a new job soon anyway. It’s just a lot easier to do that with a decent reference.”

  “Thanks, Rose. D
o you have a pen on you?”

  The nurse delved in her handbag, pulled out a cheap biro and handed it over.

  Jason scribbled a few sentences on the napkin then folded it into a triangular shape. “I really appreciate this,” he said, giving her both items.

  “Right, well I better get to work.” She rose to her feet again.

  “How will I get her answer?” asked Jason, also standing.

  “It’s a twelve-hour shift so I won’t finish until six fifteen in the morning. I’ll meet you tomorrow afternoon at five o’clock by the entrance to the main car park. I’ve got a red Ford Calypso.”

  “See you tomorrow, then.” Jason sat down and watched Rose’s back as she crossed to the door and joined the flow of people in the foyer.

  For the first time in three days, he smiled.

  Chapter 45

  Wednesday 12th January 2033

  Rose strode down the corridor towards the nurse’s station. She had slipped the napkin that Jason had given her beneath her bra, and now she glanced down to make sure it wasn’t visible through her uniform. Nothing was discernible, but the paper felt uncomfortable against her skin. She still hadn’t decided what to do about it. She was within a whisker of being fired. If she encountered Rosalind Baxter there was no guarantee she would keep her job whatever she did. There was no way she could avoid the woman indefinitely, but she hoped that Doctor Perrin had made a good enough case to convince the CEO to retain her services.

  One thing was for sure, she planned to look for different employment as soon as possible. Yes, the pay was far higher here than she could earn elsewhere, but the way they took those young women off the street and experimented on them made her extremely uneasy. Even if they were prostitutes and drug addicts with low life expectancy, it was still hard to justify what was done to them. She knew that sacrifices had to be made to find a cure, the loss of a few lives would save countless millions more and so on, but surely there were other ways. If Mrs Baxter did choose to sack her, maybe she could use her knowledge as leverage.