by Amy Cross
Thomas
She's wrong.
As soon as we get back to the hospital, I go straight to Elizabeth. Part of me hopes that she'll be back to her old self by now, that she'll be dazed and that she'll want to know what's happened. I force myself to remember, however, that there won't be any miracles, that she'll probably just look a little better.
In fact, as I reach her, I'm shocked to see that she seems worse than ever. She immediately starts snarling, and now she's pulling so hard on the rope that I can see red marks around her neck. She looks absolutely frantic, as if the monstrous side of her mind is struggling harder and harder to break through, and right now it's hard to believe that she can ever go back to normal.
“Don't worry,” is all Carter says later, when I ask why nothing's happening. “It just takes time, that's all. Be patient.”
Elizabeth
“Help!” I scream, pulling back further and further into the corner as the darkness approaches. “Somebody help me!”
Tears are streaming down my face now, but I know no-one can hear me. I'm trapped here alone in this featureless room, and the darkness has been steadily eating away at everything until finally I can't even see my own lower body. When I try to hold my hands up, I only see faint whispers of my fingers, as if the darkness has almost finished dissolving my flesh and my bones. There's almost nothing left of me at all.
“My name is Elizabeth Marter,” I say firmly, trying to make sure that I don't disappear entirely. “My name is Elizabeth Marter. My name is...”
For a moment, I can't remember what to say next.
“Help!” I sob.
I lift my head, trying to get my face further away from the darkness, but already I can barely even feel my mouth. And finally, as the bottom of my mind starts falling away, I find that I can no longer even sob. All I can do is try to remember who I am, try to remember how I ended up here, try to cling on to some sliver of hope as everything fades. The last thing I hear is a loud, angry snarling sound.
Day 106
Thomas
“She should have responded by now,” Carter says, as we stand watching Elizabeth in the morning light. “Thomas was right. This is taking too long.”
Musgrave doesn't say anything. Instead, he's busy examining Elizabeth, having already got us to secure her against a nearby tree. I can tell that he's worried; even for a man of few words, he's remaining remarkably quiet as he checks the blotches on her skin, and it's clear that something's definitely not right.
I'm starting to think that all this talk of a cure might have been a crock of shit.
“You said she'd be getting better by now,” I point out, turning to Carter. “He's the one who infected her. If he can't bring her back -”
“Calm down,” she replies. “Nothing good comes of panic.”
“But you just said -”
“We can fix this, Thomas,” she continues. “Musgrave knows what he's doing. Maybe your friend just isn't reacting the right way to -”
“So it's her fault now?” I snap.
“I didn't say that.” She sighs, before taking a step forward. “I want to be out of this place within a few days. I've sent word to Patterson that we're ready, so he's going to be knocking on our door soon. Patterson's alright, but he's bound to bring more of his military buddies and they have a tendency to screw things up. We need this cure to be bulletproof.”
“It'll work,” Musgrave replies, as Elizabeth lets out another low snarl. “It takes time. We just have to be patient.”
***
“I swear,” Carter sneers, as she tosses some more scraps into the three cages, feeding the zombies, “when this is all over, I'm going to make that Musgrave asshole pay for all these delays. The man doesn't know the meaning of the word urgency.”
“But it's going to work, right?” I ask, trying not to get too worried. “It has to!”
She says something under her breath, but I don't quite manage to make out the words.
Looking across the chamber, I see Polly still sitting cross-legged, still staring up at the zombies. For a moment, that weird little kid gives me the real shivers. I don't think I want to know what's going on in her head, but I sure wish she'd go and be weird somewhere else.
“Patterson's goons will be here soon enough,” Carter adds finally. “That's when everything starts to become difficult.”
“I thought you were the one who sent for Patterson,” I point out, turning to her again.
“He was coming anyway,” she replies. “At least this way, I get to fluff his ego by making him think that I want him here. A man like Patterson has to be handled with care, Thomas. I need him on my side, and I need him to not listen to idiots like that Robert Clayborne guy.” She throws some more scraps into the nearest cage, causing one of the zombies to let out an angry gasp.
“They don't seem very hungry,” I say.
“They'll eat it when they get desperate,” she mutters. “I'm starting to think that letting that Clayborne asshole go was a mistake. I thought I had time to get things in order here, but Musgrave's work just keeps getting delayed.”
I pause for a few seconds, thinking back to the moment when Carter aimed her gun at the back of the soldier's head.
“I thought you were going to kill him,” I tell her finally.
I wait, but she doesn't reply.
“I thought you were going to execute him,” I add. “Something like that.”
She glances at me.
“I was,” she says after a few more seconds.
“What do you -”
“That's why we drove him out there, dumb-ass,” she continues. “When I put that gun to the back of his head, I was getting ready to pull the trigger. And then, at the last moment, I wavered. I've killed before, Thomas, but it felt different this time. More like actual murder. Maybe I'm just a big softie at heart, but I decided to use him in another way instead.” She pauses. “I'm starting to think that I made a huge mistake.”
“You were right not to kill him.”
She shakes her head.
“Killing him would have been murder,” I point out. “Think how you'd feel now.”
“I'd feel more like I'm in control,” she replies, before taking a deep breath. “So long as Clayborne does what I told him to do, it'll be okay. I can handle Patterson. I just don't like having too many variables in the mix.” She turns to look back at the zombies in the cages. “All of this would be fine, if Musgrave had just finalized the cure by now. He's the one who's causing all the problems. He works too slowly. He needs to hurry things up.”
“I'm sure he's doing the best that he can.”
I wait, but now she's staring at the zombies with a curious expression on her face.
“You did the right thing with Robert Clayborne,” I tell her. “It might not feel that way right now, but you'll realize it eventually. It's good that you didn't murder him.”
“Maybe,” she replies, “but doing the right thing usually ends up being a mistake. I've always prided myself on doing whatever's necessary. That brief moment of moral righteousness is making me feel uneasy. I just hope it doesn't come back and bite me on the ass.”
“The cure has to work,” I reply. “Elizabeth has to recover.”
I wait, but again she seems lost in thought.
“She will, won't she?” I continue, as I feel a growing sense of desperation in the pit of my stomach. “It has to.”
She pauses, and then she turns to me.
“Can you do me a favor, Thomas?” she asks. “It's something that might help with Elizabeth.”
“Anything.”
“Go and watch her for an hour or so,” she continues. “Just try to notice if there are any patterns in her behavior.”
“What kind of -”
“Anything, Thomas!” she snaps, and for a moment she seems uncharacteristically flustered. “If I tell you what you're looking for, you're more likely to start seeing things that aren't there. You're a smart kid. Too smart, so
metimes. Go and watch your friend and see if you notice anything. Come back in an hour or two.”
I want to argue with her, but to be honest the thought of going back up to be with Elizabeth is actually quite appealing. I turn and start heading out of the chamber, although after a moment I have to step around Polly as she remains cross-legged on the floor. To be honest, anything that gets me away from that kid feels like a good idea right now.
Thomas
“Elizabeth, it's me,” I say firmly, standing in front of her as she continues to pull against the ropes. “It's Thomas. Your name is Elizabeth Marter. Do you remember?”
She twists first one way and then the other, and now the bloodied line around her neck looks worse than ever. Blood is even dribbling down to her collarbone, and at this rate I'm worried that after a few more days she's going to tear her head clean off her shoulders.
It's been a few hours now since Carter sent me up here, and I haven't spotted any kind of pattern in Elizabeth's behavior. I probably should have gone back down by now and reported that fact to Carter, but I feel bad about leaving Elizabeth alone. I guess there's a chance that she's still in there somewhere, and that she gets some comfort from having somebody say her name.
“Do you remember the radio message?” I continue. “It was a while ago, maybe a couple of months. It's kind of hard to tell, seeing as how everything's been so crazy lately. To be honest, I don't even remember what we talked about, not really. I think I tried to persuade you to get to Lake Erie. Good job you didn't. You'd probably be dead by now.”
With her eyes fixed on me, she lets out a low, rattling snarl.
“Then again,” I say with a sigh, “some people might prefer that.”
The snarl continues, and then she tilts her head slightly. She looks so hungry, as if she wants nothing more than to break free of the rope and lunge at me. At the same time, more blood is dribbling from the wound that runs all around her neck, and I can even see strips of pale, torn skin hanging down.
“If you're in there,” I continue, “and if you can hear me, then you have to understand that this is going to be okay. I know I've said that before. I feel like we're stuck in a holding pattern right now, we're not moving forward at all, but you're going to pull through.”
I pause, before noticing a dark spot on one side of her neck. I peer a little closer – as close as I dare, at least – and I quickly realize that this must be where she was injected by Musgrave. The needle hole is black, while the surrounding skin has turned a particularly nasty-looking shade of dark red.
Suddenly I hear voices shouting in the distance, and the sound of footsteps hurrying through the abandoned hospital, coming this way. Before I have a chance to wonder what's wrong, a nearby door swings open and a breathless, panicked Doctor Musgrave hurries out.
“Get her inside!” he shouts. “Now!”
“What's wrong?” I ask.
“Shut up and do it!” he snaps. “We can't waste any more time! I need to get this cure perfected immediately!”
***
“It's okay, sweetheart,” Musgrave says to his daughter as I finish securing Elizabeth's ropes to a hook on the wall. “Daddy's going to fix everything.”
As soon as I'm done, I take a step back and watch as Elizabeth tries to free herself. Getting her all the way down here to the laboratory was hard enough, and now she seems furious.
After a moment, I turn and see that Polly is still on the floor, leaning against the wall. She looks deathly pale, with sweat pouring down her face. I've seen these symptoms before, in Mom and Lydia and so many other people, although Polly's condition seems to be deteriorating particularly fast. I don't know how, but she's sick and it's pretty clear how she'll end up in an hour or two.
“I'm so close,” Musgrave stammers, and his panicked hands fumble slightly as he pulls some equipment across one of the benches. “I can do this. I'm going to save her.”
“What can I do to help?” I ask.
He doesn't reply. Instead, he seems focused on checking some scalpels.
“What can I do?” I ask again. “Just tell -”
“You can keep the fuck out of my way!” he yells angrily. “My daughter is sick and I don't have time to explain everything to the village idiot! So keep your mouth shut!”
Before I can tell him to go screw himself, he hurries to one of the other benches. He's muttering to himself, clearly lost in his own thoughts. After a moment, sensing movement nearby, I turn and see that Doctor Carter is coming through from the other chamber.
“How did she catch this?” I ask. “Where did it come from?”
“I suppose she was just unlucky,” she replies calmly, looking over at Polly as the little girl continues to shiver on the floor. “Frankly, considering the way she was allowed to run around without any rules, it's not so surprising that something like this happened. She'll be okay, though. Her father is very close to getting the cure ready, and perhaps this extra motivation is just what he needed in order to haul his sorry ass across the finish line.” She pauses for a moment. “He has been slacking a little, of late.”
“Did she catch it from the zombies in the cages?” I ask. “Is that even possible?”
“Of course it's not,” she replies. “There are precautions in place, designed to make sure that nobody is able to get infected in the facility. This must just be a terrible accident. Who knows where the child has been playing over the past few days? She's always running off for a few hours at a time.”
I open my mouth to ask whether she's worried about the sickness finding a new way to spread, but suddenly she turns and makes her way nonchalantly back toward the other chamber. For a moment, I can't help but notice that she seems remarkably unconcerned about Polly's condition, almost as if...
No.
Carter might not be about to win any prizes for ethics, but even she wouldn't intentionally infect a little girl in an attempt to make her father focus on the task at hand. That would be more than just immoral, it'd be downright evil. And yet, as Carter disappears around the far corner and I turn back to watch Musgrave work, I can't shake the feeling that Polly's sickness does seem to have come at a very convenient moment.
Over on the far side of the room, Elizabeth is still pulling on the ropes.
I step past the nearest benches, making my way toward Polly. I don't want to get too close, but after a moment I stop and look down at her pale, glistening face. She looks to be running a fever, and she can barely keep her eyes open. Some kind of slime is running from her nose and mouth, and her head is tilted to once side as if she no longer has the strength to keep it up.
And then I spot the mark on her leg.
Musgrave must have missed it in his panic, but there's a faint red dot on Polly's left leg, just above the ankle. It's not nearly as prominent as the mark on the side of Elizabeth's neck, but it is there and I feel a shiver pass up my spine as I realize that my earlier fears might have been correct.
Polly didn't just happen to catch the sickness while she was playing outside. Someone gave it to her.
Thomas
“I know what you did.”
Turning away from the cages, which she's been watching for the past few minutes, Carter looks at me with a puzzled expression.
“I saw the mark on her leg,” I continue. “I know you injected the sickness into Polly.”
“Don't be -”
“Don't lie to me.”
She pauses.
“Does Musgrave know?” she asks finally.
“Not yet. But I'm going to tell him.”
“Don't. You'll only cloud his judgment.”
“That kid could die!” I snap, stepping toward her. “She's only eight years old!”
“But she won't die, Thomas,” she replies calmly, as if none of this troubles her at all. “You don't know Musgrave, but I do. He's a brilliant man and he will finalize the cure. I thought your friend's sickness would be enough to motivate him, but it seems he needed one last little push over
the line. That's what I provided.” She pauses, and then she shrugs. “You should be happy, Thomas,” she adds finally, before turning to look back at the cages. “I've basically ensured that your friend survives.”
“By threatening the life of a child!”
“If the kid dies, I shall indeed bear a great deal of guilt.” She pauses again, watching as the three zombies shift in their cages. “But the kid won't die. And in the meantime, I'd recommend that you don't sit around watching what happens. Go outside and smell the flowers, Thomas. By the time you get back inside this evening, everything should be alright again.”
“I've spent days now, waiting for your promises to come true,” I remind her. “Nothing seems to be happening.”
“It's difficult to schedule a miracle,” she mutters. “They do keep slipping, but you really just have to be patient.” She turns to me again. “Leave Musgrave to his work,” she says firmly. “Don't endanger those two poor souls out there, just so you can tell yourself that you're making the correct moral choice. Don't be that selfish, Thomas.”
***
“It's okay, sweetheart,” Musgrave says as he clamps a metal restrainer around his daughter's leg, attaching her to a chain that's hooked to the wall. “Daddy's going to make you feel better again. Do you understand?”
As I step up behind him, I can't help but notice that little Polly looks worse than ever. She's pale and sweaty, and she can barely keep her eyes open. One side of her face seems to be drooping slightly, almost as if she's suffering from some kind of stroke, but after a moment her head twitches slightly and her lips move as she starts murmuring something.
“What's she saying?” I ask.
Musgrave turns to me, and for a moment he looks as if he's about to yell at me to go away. After a few seconds, however, his features soften and I see an expression of helplessness in his eyes.