She grabbed the computer’s mouse and clicked play on the video controls. As the footage continued, the two creatures didn’t seem to be doing anything but staring at one another, swaying like trees in a breeze.
Raine remembered when she’d witness them behaving in the same way. On the beach when they had spied on the herd in a trance-like state, up to their knees in sea water and gazing at the moon.
‘It seems you people have an uncontrollable urge to wander around this facility like it’s some kind of theme park.’ The agitated voice belonged to Isiah Grant. He entered the lab from a door at the back of the room.
‘You people?’ Raine said, stepping away from the computer desk.
‘Yes. The priest. He’s been snooping around in the research sector at night.’
‘You should know, doctor. You appear to like burning the midnight oil yourself.’
Grant adjusted his glasses and squinted. She’d noticed him squint like that more than once before and put it down to a nervous affliction.
‘I would appreciate it if you told him that it’s not an appropriate place to go for a stroll. I’m using live specimens in there and it’s extremely dangerous,’ he said.
‘I’ll mention it to him if I see him, but he’s not “my people”. He shot one of mine, remember? That’s the reason we ended up here, getting under your feet.’
‘Well, quite.’ Grant glanced across to the monitor showing the footage of the two creatures. He took control of the mouse and closed the video player. ‘Was there any particular reason for this visit, other than getting under my feet?’
‘I came to tell you we’ve considered your request for blood samples and we accept. We’ve taken shelter here, eaten your food and received medical care. I thought I’d be the first to offer what I have.’ Raine rolled up her sleeve and held her forearm out to him. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a vein in there somewhere.’
Grant stared at her for a moment. ‘And you thought you’d come to me personally?’
‘Foster’s treating the boy who got shot and I couldn’t find Doctor Osgood,’ Raine said.
His eyes seemed to examine every inch of her face, as if he were a cold reader, searching for a micro-expression that would give her away. He followed his visual inquisition with a murmur of acknowledgement and slapped the wooden surface behind her.
‘Up on the bench,’ he said.
He walked to the basin on the back wall to wash his hands and collect the equipment required to take the sample. He placed the equipment on a nearby table and wheeled it over to where Raine was sitting.
‘You’re lucky you caught me. I was just about to visit the canteen to get something to eat,’ Grant said as he snapped on his surgical gloves.
‘I don’t know how you can maintain any kind of appetite after dissecting these things all day.’
‘You get used to the smell after a while. In fact, it’s a dream for a medical scientist to get to work with live cadavers—something that would be completely unethical, not to mention, impossible in any other circumstances. Arm please.’
Grant gestured to her and she held out her arm again so he could secure the tourniquet.
Raine was left cold by the grin on his face.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘I wouldn’t say enjoying was the right word. For someone of my professional background, this phenomenon is fascinating on many levels. The outbreak essentially tore up the rulebook. It didn’t just change the landscape of human biology—it charted out continents we never even knew existed. I suppose my work is so interesting that it acts as the ultimate distraction to what has happened to the world we used to know.’
‘I hope you’re not too distracted to come up with a way of combating this thing—only reason I’m sitting here right now,’ Raine said.
Grant nodded.
‘We’re now in a position where we can make real progress. Of course, progress can never be made without sacrifice.’
Grant began to clean the area he was about to inject with an alcohol swab. As he wiped upwards, he took note of the tapestry of old cuts and bruises covering her skin.
‘I can scarcely imagine what it must have been like for you out there—the things you needed to do just to stay alive.’
‘You’re right, you can’t imagine,’ Raine said.
Grant removed the packaging from the pre-assembled barrel and unsheathed its butterfly needle. With his free hand, he gently pulled on her skin to anchor the vein where the insertion would be made.
‘Just a little scratch now. I guess you might be used to this. You look like an athlete,’ Grant said.
‘I served in the military,’ Raine said.
‘Of course. I’ve worked with the military for the best part of a decade. It’s funny, I was always sceptical about them when it came to biomedical research, convinced that they didn’t understand it and only wished to control the scientists working for them, but over time, I felt my talents and the abilities of my colleagues in their respective fields were being stifled by the FDA. And when I rather stumbled into the position at the MMRP, I felt like I’d been given a new lease of life and my work leapt forward.’
Raine had been so focussed on what he was saying, she hadn’t noticed that he’d already filled two sample vials with her blood, set them down on the table and attached a third to the collection system.
‘It was fortunate in more ways than one,’ Raine said.
‘How do you mean?’
‘If you weren’t already important to them, I doubt the military would have ensured your safety and had you relocated here.’
‘You’re quite right. A quirk of fate, maybe,’ Grant said.
‘Someone like you doesn’t really believe in fate.’
‘I certainly never used to. It’s surprising how researching the living dead can alter your perspective on things.’
‘Fighting them gives you a good idea of who you can really trust.’
‘I’m afraid I’ll have to take your word for that. I’ve never been particularly adept at physical confrontation. Everyone has their purpose.’
‘They do,’ Raine said. She flinched as Grant removed the needle from her arm and applied pressure to the punctured area while he unstrapped the tourniquet.
‘On that note, I want to personally thank you for helping Donald retrieve the data from the government outpost. It has proved to be imperative.’
‘It’s a shame we were too late to rescue the Attorney General and the other survivors.’
‘A great shame.’ Grant squinted, adjusting his glasses again. ‘Just keep some pressure on that for five minutes or so.’
Raine took over from the doctor and placed two fingers down on the cotton pad covering the injection site.
‘How’s the young man who accompanied you? I understand he was almost bitten and he’s been withdrawn ever since,’ Grant said.
Raine jumped down from the bench.
‘He’ll be fine. He’s just a little shaken. That’s all.’
‘Let him know that if he’d like me to take a look at him, I’d be more than happy to. I’m a neuroscientist, but I have a considerable amount of—’
‘I’ll let him know. Thank you.’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure you have things to do. Thank you for the samples,’ Grant said, dusting down his lab coat.
‘I don’t, but I know you do. Be seeing you, doctor.’
Still holding her arm out, Raine made her way around the myriad of work stations and let herself out.
Before Grant collected the vials of blood and went back to what he was doing, he noticed that his visitor had left something behind on the bench. It was a pen, and when he examined it, he recognised it instantly from the name scrawled across its surface. The same pen that he thought he’d misplaced in his private lab. He looked back to the door that Raine had exited, his eye twitching.
Raine turned the corner to the corri
dor and met Osgood coming the other way. She nodded to acknowledge him, and as they past each other, he grabbed hold of her arm.
She was about to push him away when she saw the desperation and fear reflected in his eyes.
‘Meet me here tonight at 3am. Come alone and don’t tell the others.’
Immediately after he said the words, he let her go and hurried on towards the lab, never looking back.
Raine massaged her arm in the spot where he’d snatched at her and continued down the corridor and away from the research sector, his request ringing in her ears.
9
Two Years Earlier
‘You look different today, and not in a good way,’ Julie said, sitting forward in her chair to observe the current disposition of her client.
‘Are you flirting with me, Julie?’ Raine said.
‘I’m serious. You look drawn and over-tired. You also look like you’ve lost some weight since we last saw each other. Have you been eating properly?’
‘I thought these sessions were supposed to be about my psychological well-being. You’re starting to sound like my mother.’
‘You don’t think eating disorders are related to mental health?’
‘I don’t have a fucking eating disorder. You’re trying to project problems on to me I don’t even have. That’s an interesting approach,’ Raine said.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply… I was just trying to make the point that physical issues are often linked to psychological ones.’
‘Sure, whatever.’
‘How’s the kickboxing going?’ Julie said.
‘I quit.’
‘I thought that was your vice?’
Raine shrugged as she gazed around Julie’s office.
‘It wasn’t working for me.’
‘What’s working for you at the moment?’
Raine turned to look at her again, her nostrils flared.
‘What’s working for you, doctor? Are you still playing around with those kiddie’s cigarettes or are you back to the cancer sticks?’
‘I’m hanging in there—just about. You almost sound like you’d be pleased if I failed,’ Julie said.
‘I guess that’s interesting to you, huh?’
‘It suggests you don’t see the benefit in moving forward anymore.’
‘What does “moving forward” even mean?’ Raine said. ‘Where are we supposed to be going? ‘Cause you and I both know what the final destination is.’
‘Is that where you’d prefer to be?’
‘Technically, I wouldn’t be anywhere.’
‘To cease to exist, is that your desire?’
‘Really? You going to ask me about my suicidal thoughts now?’
‘I’d think it was unusual for someone whose seen combat to not have some.’
‘I put a knife to my throat every so often. I get a kick out of it. Reminds me I’m still alive. I won’t pull the trigger though, not while my folks are still around. I don’t want them to have to deal with that. They deserve better.’
‘And after, when they’re gone?’ Julie said.
Raine reached down and unzipped the sports bag next to her chair. She retrieved a bottle of pills, spun the cap, and got up to get a carboard cone-cup from the half-filled water cooler by the door. She threw a pill into her mouth and glugged the water down after it.
‘What are those?’ Julie said.
‘You know what they are. You have my medical files.’
‘I’m sure you were given some guidance when they were prescribed, but Paroxetine can be hellishly addictive.’
Raine raised the bottle up as if it were a glass and she was about to toast something.
‘I think we may have found my new vice.’
‘I know. You don’t mind the side-effects because they kill the nightmares.’
Raine ditched her sarcastic grin and prowled back to her therapist like she’d laid eyes on her next meal.
Julie was so unnerved by the animalistic intensity in her eyes, she unknowingly shifted back and the legs of her chair squealed on the wood panelled floor.
‘Nothing can do that. They are here to stay. Waking or sleeping, it doesn’t matter.’ She tapped the side of her head with her index finger. ‘When I was a kid, I never thought I had much of an imagination. I never played dress-up or with dolls and shit.’
Raine fell back into her chair again and slumped forward, shoulders rounded, and for once in one of these sessions, her defences exposed.
‘I read a lot, but I had trouble forming the images in my mind from the words. Ever since the war, things changed. I mean, I can really paint some pictures with the best of them now. That’s for damn sure.
‘You ever have a nickname when you were at school, doctor?’
Julie sat up. She could move again, released by Raine’s all-encompassing stare.
‘Erm, nothing too exciting. Just Jules, mainly. I did get called Fender Face for about a year in sixth grade when I had braces. Kids can turn cruelty into an art form at that age.’
‘In every war, soldiers create and circulate nicknames. Not just to describe the enemy, but names that apply to the people at large, wherever they are fighting. In Iraq, some names stuck—some didn’t. Towel heads, sand niggers, you know the sort of names I’m talking about.’
Julie nodded and stayed silent, aware that her patient was in a head space that could help her release what boiled inside of her.
‘One of the more popular names in my time was Hadji. Everyone was Hadji—man, woman and child—civilian or combatant. It didn’t matter. When a unit came across the burnt remains of a suicide bomber, they were “Hadji Jerky”.
‘The name comes from The Hajj. It’s a religious pilgrimage that Muslims make to Mecca. It’s one of the five pillars of their faith they need to fulfil to get to heaven. Hajj is supposed to be a title of respect for those people that have made the difficult journey to their holy site. We pissed on that idea and we turned it into something negative so we could mock them and convince ourselves they were all the same.’
‘I’m not sure I understand where you are going with this, Raine, but I want to,’ Julie said.
‘It’s because of something Armitage said on the day that it happened. One of our unit commented on how challenging the mission was going to be. That prick just smiled at him and said “Yeah, but Hadji don’t surf”.’
‘What happened on that mission, Major? What happened to you?’
The look Raine gave her was empty—soulless.
‘I died,’ she said.
Julie didn’t respond, allowing Raine to gather her thoughts and continue her story.
‘In 2010, Al-Qaeda’s capabilities were minimal. Even so, their goals hadn’t changed. They still wanted to destabilise the government in Iraq with the purpose of establishing a Caliphate. Odds were against them at that time, but their mindset had always remained steadfast. They were constantly on the lookout for ungoverned territories in the region, so they could take advantage of them.
‘The job of my unit was to infiltrate these small groups of insurgents when they were located in isolated areas of the country to stop them maintaining a foothold again. One of those missions was in a place located in west Iraq called Al-Zaffa. There had been a wave of car bombings over the period of a few weeks and we’d received intel that the base of operations was a three-story building situated on the outskirts of a small town. Me and my team went in at nightfall under the command of Lt. Colonel Armitage.
‘We cleared the first two floors and took out the insurgents easily enough, but they were hiding amongst civilians. We managed to get them out and we suspected that the remaining targets on the third floor would have more with them.
‘We worked our way into position—thought we had them where we wanted, but something changed. During the invasion, insurgents were able to get their hands on all kinds of weaponry they otherwise would not have had access to. This part
icular group had a portable meatgrinder set up in one of the hallways. We only realised after they opened up on us. That’s an M134 minigun. It—’
‘I know what a meatgrinder is,’ Julie said.
‘You might recognise the name, but you don’t know what it is—what it does and what it meant for us. 7.62X51mm rounds with a rate of fire of 50 rounds per second. In a fight space like a corridor? It was like going head-to-head with Satan himself.
‘One of my team members lay dead and another was wounded badly. A round had nicked an artery in his leg and he was bleeding out. The rest of us were pinned down, trying our best to take cover. Our medic had no way of getting to him without being cut to pieces. I could hear their hostages in the other rooms screaming and crying over the gunfire.
‘It was hard to see or even breathe. There was so much plaster and stone raining down on us, you could almost cut through the dust in the air. Armitage was shouting something I couldn’t quite make out. I think he was ordering the unit to try and work our way back to the staircase.
‘Everyone just lay there and prayed they’d run out of ammunition, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen before we were all long dead. So, I listened between the bursts of fire, and recognised the sound the Gatling made when its belt was being changed. Armed with my rifle and two flash grenades, I got up and ran down the corridor. Something came over me right then—a calm I’d never felt before or since. I returned fire to the back of the corridor where the gun had been positioned and went room-to-room—two rooms on each side.
‘When I’d finished, there was just silence. I couldn’t believe it could sound so quiet after so much chaos. The two gunners were slumped over the Gatling and there were a further four insurgents dead in the conjoining rooms.’
Raine clenched her fists, puncturing the skin of her palms with her unevenly trimmed fingernails.
‘There were others—other corpses. The majority of the civilians they were holding had been moved to the top floor after we’d infiltrated the building. One man, two women and four children. The eldest must have only been around six years old. I remember him the most vividly because when I saw him lying amongst the rubble, I thought he was clutching a toy to his chest, but it wasn’t a toy. It was a baby.’
Everything Dies [Season Two] Page 17