by Cross, Amy
“I've already told you, I'm not coming,” I reply. “You're the one who's wasting time. Not me.”
“Sure,” he says, as I look back out at the wrecked boat, “I guess you're right. This conversation has run its course.”
I feel a rush of relief at the thought of him finally accepting my decision. At the same time, I hate the thought of him leaving and never coming back. Suddenly I realize that I might never see him again, although I guess he can come and visit me.
“Dad -”
Suddenly he grabs me from behind and places some kind of cloth across my mouth and nose. I try to pull away, but a fraction of a second later I feel my body going limp.
“I'm so sorry, Elizabeth,” Dad says as he holds me up, “but I'm afraid this choice has been taken out of your hands.”
Elizabeth
Opening my eyes, I immediately hear the loud roaring sound of engines, and I realize that the floor beneath me is shaking violently. There are voices nearby, and a moment later the entire world seems to twist around. Startled, and feeling a little groggy, I sit up and find that I'm on the helicopter.
We're in the air.
“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and I turn to see Alex sitting in a nearby seat, “welcome back. If you have a headache, it's totally natural considering what he used on you.”
He pauses, before leaning closer and lowering his voice.
“For what it's worth,” he adds, “I'd be furious in your position. He had no right to do any of this.”
Startled, I look out the window and see that we're flying over ruined, abandoned streets. I don't know how long I've been unconscious, but we're clearly far from Montauk now and I'm pretty sure that we must be heading straight for Philadelphia.
“We'll be landing soon,” Alex says, as if he read my mind.
Turning, I look through to the front of the helicopter and I see Dad sitting next to the pilot. In an instant, my blood starts to boil as I realize that he kidnapped me. I told him my decision, and he just took it upon himself to drug me.
“I want to go back,” I stammer, getting to my feet.
“He won't turn us around,” Alex says.
“I want to go back!” I yell, limping toward the glass screen that separates this part of the helicopter from the front. “Hey!” I shout, banging my fists against the glass in an attempt to get Dad's attention. “You can't do this! You have to take me back right now!”
“You should probably save your energy,” Alex says.
“Did you know about this?” I ask, turning to him. “Did you know what he was going to do all along?”
“No,” he replies, “absolutely not.” He pauses. “I had my suspicions, though. Lately he's been getting more agitated. I don't think there's much time left.”
“Until what?”
He hesitates. I can tell that he's not telling me everything, and after a moment he turns and looks out the window. I'm about to ask him more about my father's plans, but then I see that there's smoke in the distance. I head over to join Alex, and I'm shocked by the sight of a vast, ruined city.
“Philadelphia,” Alex mutters. “The main parts are a no-go zone these days. Rival gangs have taken over, they spend most of their time fighting. In some ways that's good, it means they keep themselves busy, but on the other hand it's hard to believe just how many people are being hurt. Some of the gangs even send their members out to patrol the surrounding areas, and then they haul unsuspecting travelers into the city.”
“Then what do they do to them?” I ask.
“There's a lot of cannibalism going on. Some of the gangs are degenerating, they're becoming almost primal. Like I told you before, it's shocking to see what people will do when they're desperate.” He turns to me. “Don't worry, though. We'll fly straight over the top of them, and we'll be out of range. They don't have anything that can take us down.”
As he says those words, I spot people down in the streets, running and pointing up toward us. A few of them seem to be throwing stones, and I feel a shudder pass through my chest as I realize that the whole city must be consumed by desperation. The helicopter races straight past them all, but I can't shake a sense of guilt at the thought that I'm up here and they're down there.
“It's best not to think about it too much,” Alex says after a moment. “If you think about it, you might just lose your mind.”
***
“Elizabeth, I -”
“You had no right to bring me here!” I yell, clambering out of the helicopter as soon as Dad opens the door. “I want to go back right now!”
“I'm your father and it's my job to look after you,” he replies firmly. “Your mother would have done exactly the same thing.”
“She wouldn't have drugged me!”
“She'd have done whatever it takes, which is what I'm doing. Hate me if it makes you feel better, Elizabeth, but soon you'll understand. There's no way I could possibly have just left you at that lighthouse.”
Looking around, I see that we've landed on the roof of a building on the other side of the city. A moment later, a door opens and several people emerge, coming this way. This whole operation seems very organized, and very controlled, which is a stark contrast to everything I've experienced so far during this nightmare.
“This man who's about to introduce himself,” Dad whispers, nudging my arm. “Don't trust him.”
I turn to him.
“Just keep your guard up,” he adds. “Stay smart.”
Before I have a chance to ask him what he means, I see that the people are reaching us. It's clear that this welcoming committee has been arranged very deliberately, and I can't help but wonder how Dad got himself mixed up in all of this.
“You must be Elizabeth,” one of the men says, stopping and holding a hand out toward me. “I've heard so much about you.”
“Hi,” I reply cautiously, shaking his hand.
“My name is Maxwell Carver,” he explains with a smile, “and these are my associates Tyler Healy and Madeleine Crozier.”
“Please,” the woman says, “call me Maddy.”
“So you managed to get her to come with you this time, huh?” Carver says, turning to Dad. “I've got to admit, I was starting to wonder after our guys came back empty-handed last night.”
“We talked,” Dad replies, before glancing at me as if he's desperately hoping that I won't contradict him. “Didn't we, Elizabeth?”
“Sure thing,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“You must be hungry,” Carver tells me. “We can arrange for you to get a proper meal, and I'm sure we can also sort out some fresh clothes. You'll be pleased to know that we also have hot water facilities, so you can take a shower.”
“What is this place?” I ask.
“Your father hasn't explained?”
“It's been a long day,” Dad tells him. “I was thinking I might save the big explanations for later.”
“The details, of course,” Carver replies, keeping his eyes fixed on me, “but I'm sure your daughter is aching to know the basics. Isn't that right, young lady?”
“Where am ?” I ask. “Is this something to do with Project Atherius?”
“You know more than I expected,” Carver says. “Yes, Elizabeth, you have indeed reached the heart of one of the only remaining Project Atherius sites in the entire world. Most of the others are either offline or in ruins, but here in Philadelphia everything is running smoothly as we count down to the big day. But that probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Let me show you around,” he continues with a growing smile, “and let me also be the first to say, welcome to Project Atherius.”
Elizabeth
This place is huge. And when I say huge, I mean Bond villain huge, I mean sci-fi movie huge, I mean video game end level huge, I mean...
It's like a city, hidden underground on the outskirts of Philadelphia.
As we make our way along another bland,
clean corridor, we occasionally pass windows that offer a view into a vast hanger space that could easily fit a dozen airplanes. I can see hundreds, if not thousands, of people working on all sorts of equipment, although I can't quite make out the focus of their endeavors. This place is humming with activity, however, and I'd find it hard to believe that it's all real even in normal times. The fact that this is here now, and that it's been here all this time, seems pretty absurd.
“This is what everyone's been fighting over,” Dad says to me, keeping his voice down. “Boston. San Francisco. San Diego. Over the past year, ever since the lights went out, the most powerful groups in all of America have been desperately trying to gain control of the few Project Atherius sites in the country. I imagine that the same is true all around the world.”
“Why?” I ask. “Are these, like, bunkers for the last survivors?”
“Not exactly,” he replies. “I mean, they've kind of been functioning as that for a while, but that's not their end goal.”
“So the plan is to stop the zombies and start rebuilding the world, right?”
I wait for him to reply, but he seems to be choosing his words with care and now he falls completely silent. Getting answers out of him is proving to be incredibly difficult, and I feel as if he's deliberately avoiding being honest.
“Doctor Marter,” Carver says, stopping at a door and turning to Dad, “I'm going to show Elizabeth the control room, but would you mind going to the main engineering bay and checking on a problem that was reported while you were away? Apparently there's some issue with a relay unit and -”
“I'm not going anywhere without Elizabeth,” he says firmly.
“She'll be perfectly safe,” he says calmly, “and don't forget, your last few visits to the control room haven't exactly gone smoothly.”
“I don't care,” Dad replies. “I'm not -”
“I'll be fine,” I say, interrupting him.
He turns to me, and I can see the worry in his eyes.
“Go and check on your relay units or whatever they are,” I continue. “We can catch up later.”
“Elizabeth,” he replies awkwardly, “you don't understand, I -”
“I'll be fine,” I say again, more firmly this time. “I'm not a kid, I don't need you to hold my hand the whole time.”
“The problem really is very urgent,” Maddy says. “John, they lost about four hours of work this morning because you weren't around. With the deadlines we're trying to meet at the moment, any delays could cause serious issues. I'm sure I don't need to remind you about the importance of these final stages.”
I can see that Dad's uneasy, and I know I should probably follow his advice to be careful around this Carver guy, but at the same time I want to prove that I can look after myself. A moment later, Carver opens the door and I immediately step through before Dad has a chance to stop me. He's the one who was so desperate for me to come here, and he got what he wanted, so he really can't start complaining now.
“We'll all catch up later,” Carver says, as I turn and see Dad standing out in the corridor. “Good luck with the relay units, John. I'm sure you'll have them sorted soon. You've always been our go-to guy for stuff like that.”
The door swings shut, and I turn to see that we're on a gantry overlooking a large room. I make my way to the edge, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm getting mixed up in something huge, but then I stop as I see that there are loads of people working at desks down below.
“What is this place?” I whisper.
“Let me show you something that will blow your mind,” Carver says, guiding me toward another door, then into another room and over to a door where two armed men are standing guard. “This wasn't even part of the original Project Atherius program, it was an unfortunate error that was slipped into our processes by a rogue employee, but there have been some very exciting developments.”
“There are people who want to stop our work,” Maddy adds. “I don't know if you saw much of Philadelphia as you came in, Elizabeth, but those things out there in the city seem to think that they have a right to share our resources. I swear, if they send one more delegation of so-called ambassadors to our gate, begging for scraps, I'll -”
“There'll be time to discuss that matter later,” Carver tells her.
“You know what I want to do to them,” she says firmly. “We can't afford any distractions, and I'm convinced they're planning something. If they want war, we should give them war with both barrels.”
“You must forgive her,” Carver says, turning to me. “There has been some resistance from outside the compound, but we have everything under control. There's simply no way that those people can possibly interrupt our work here.”
He gestures to the guards, and they step aside.
“Don't be frightened,” he continues. “A certain amount of trepidation is natural, but you have to take charge and tell yourself to be brave.” He reaches out toward a panel next to the door. “Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I say, forcing a smile. The last thing I want right now is to seem like some dumb, scared little kid.
Carver watches me for a moment, as if he's trying to determine whether or not I'm telling the truth, and then he taps at the panel. The door immediately starts sliding open, and I brace myself for whatever's in the next room. Even if it's something totally horrible, I figure I can at least pretend that I'm not upset. And then, as the door opens all the way, I let out a shocked gasp as I see that a zombie is slumped on the floor, restrained by chains on its wrists and ankles.
I instinctively take a step back.
“It's okay, he can't get to you,” Carver says, placing a hand on my shoulder as the zombie slowly raises its head and looks at me, “and even if he could, he wouldn't hurt you. Elizabeth Marter, meet my very good friend Joseph.”
Epilogue
Over a year ago...
Peering down the microscope, Joseph watched as the behavior of the virus changed. He'd seen the same thing happen hundreds of times before, of course, but this time there was a tiny difference. This time the virus was exhibiting the exact tendencies he'd been hoping to provoke, at least for a few seconds, before dying off.
Sighing, he leaned back in his creaking chair and tried to figure out what was wrong.
Suddenly, hearing a knock at the door, he froze. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was late, almost 10pm. He'd been working for so long, he hadn't even noticed as afternoon turned to night, and now he realized that his apartment was getting cold. Still, none of that mattered now, because somebody was at the door and his mind was already filling with all the possibilities.
A lone gunman.
A pretty woman with an ice-pick in her bag.
Someone he knew, Maddy perhaps, with some tough guys.
A ninja.
“Hello?” a familiar voice called out. “Mr. Aldred, are you in there?”
Sighing again, Joseph got to his feet and wandered to the door. As he began to remove all the chains, he caught himself wondering whether perhaps old Mrs. Thomson from down the hall was perhaps being used by his enemies, but he quickly figured that this was a particularly paranoid train of thought, even by his usual standards. So he eased the door open.
“Oh, Mr. Aldred,” Mrs. Thomson said with a smile, “I just wanted to check that you're alright. I haven't seen you in such a long time and, well, I kinda got worried. I also heard someone coughing, and I thought it seemed to be coming from in here.”
“I'm fine, thank you,” he replied. “You're very kind, but...”
His voice trailed off as he saw Mrs. Thomson peering past him. He instantly knew that she's be able to see his lab set-up on the desk, but he told himself not to worry too much.
“Just doing some work,” he explained.
“It looks very complicated.”
“It is very complicated.”
“I've made some pasta,” she told him, “and, well, I ended up with far too much. I can't eat it all myself, and I'
d hate for it to go to waste, so I was wondering whether you'd like to come over and help me out.”
“I'm not hungry,” he replied, glancing both ways along the corridor to make sure that nobody was loitering nearby. “Thanks, but I'm fine.”
“Oh, okay.” She paused. “Well, then I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I'll let you get back to your work.”
Clearly a little disappointed, she turned and started shuffling away.
“Has anyone been asking after me?” Joseph said suddenly.
Mrs. Thomson glanced back at him.
“Any strangers?” he continued. “Have you noticed anyone hanging around the place?”
“No. Why?”
“It doesn't matter,” he replied, already regretting the question. “Thanks again for the offer. I hope you find someone else to take your pasta.”
With that, he shut and locked the door, but then as he turned to go back to his desk he realized that he was stuck in a loop. He'd been working all day, doing the same thing over and over again with only minor variations, and he figured that he needed to find some way to fix his own mind. The thought of leaving the apartment filled him with dread, but at the same time he knew that sometimes even he needed a break. The real world sometimes provided inspiration, so long as some crack Project Atherius squad didn't show up and put a bullet in his head.
Reaching under the desk, he turned a small dial, activating the various booby traps in the apartment.
***
“Another?”
“Sure,” Joseph said, finishing the last of his whiskey and then sliding the empty glass to the bartender. “More ice this time.”
As the bartender wandered off to pour his drink, Joseph looked up at the TV that was running silently in the corner. Some stupid story was running, showing celebrities arriving for another fancy gala or awards show, and Joseph felt a ripple of disgust in his belly. He watched all the well-dressed glitterati with their expensive jewelry, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe the foul smiles from their faces. There they were, preening and basking in their own sense of importance, even though most of them were only successful because they were pretty or because they'd been born into vast amounts of money. They'd invaded the world and taken over.