by Paul Kane
Baker stumbled from the vehicle, towards them and the alley, turning as he did so, unhooking his rifle. He waited until the Sleepers were nearly on him, then he sprayed the side of the car he’d moved – splattering the back end where the petrol cap was.
There was another almighty whoosh, as the car went up this time, the blast knocking many of those chasing off their feet. Baker was virtually thrown back into the alley, where Jackson caught him.
“Keep moving,” ordered the man, out of breath. “Just keep moving…”
They did, making their way down along the gap in single file – with the sergeant covering the entrance. The alleyway opened out behind the buildings, which was fenced off. The British soldier was already tugging on the bolt at the gate. “Fucking come on!” the man shouted, and he knew then it could only be Timms. Christ no, thought Jackson. The only Brit to make it out and it’s him! Guy’s a cockroach.
He got the gate open, though, and they all piled through it. The other American soldier, who Jackson now recognised by his frame as Coleman, was helping Bridget carry the doctor. Jackson and his sergeant were the last to follow, and they slammed the gate shut behind them – just as a Sleeper emerged from the alley.
Baker reached through the fencing and pulled the bolt home. It wouldn’t hold them for long, but it was something.
“What now?” asked Jackson.
His sergeant just looked at him. “We continue on with the mission, soldier. And we survive. We survive.”
Seven
In the darkness, he could hear her voice:
Thank you! Oh God, thank you so much. You came!
The last thing he remembered was a flash of light, so bright he thought he might have gone blind. Just like the–
Oh no, he thought. He remembered where he was now, in the real world. What he’d been doing: rushing over to try and stop that soldier from shooting the kid in the head. There had been an explosion, the bus maybe? Right now he was lying on the ground, might even be dying. But somehow that didn’t matter.
The real world was so very far away from this one, and he didn’t get to visit the dreamscape very often. Didn’t get to spend time with her, very much.
You came! she repeated. I knew you would.
“I had to,” he said, though he didn’t even have to open his mouth. “You know I did. Where are you?”
I can’t tell you that. She sounded frustrated. They won’t let me.
“Who?” he asked, but didn’t get an answer.
I can’t tell you that either. They’re too strong. Their hold on me, on these people is too… Wait, maybe there’s a way I can show you.
The dreamworld was throwing back a mirror image of the real world, the street he’d been on, the car park – and there was the figure up ahead Strauss thought he’d seen when he was awake. She had her back to him, and was ill-defined. A flash of blonde hair as she turned the corner.
“Stop!” his hand was out, and he saw that he wasn’t wearing his Hazmat gear anymore. But then why would he need it here? She wasn’t waiting, this woman he’d been dreaming about for so long, and he understood that this was part of it, that she wanted him to follow. She was leading him to her.
In the dreamworld, he reminded himself. Doesn’t mean she’ll be there in the real one. But she had to be. She had to–
Come and find me, she coaxed, that voice as welcome as ever in his mind. We’re linked, you and I, in a way they can’t break.
He thought about asking who “they” were again, but knew it was pointless. He’d get no answers until he found her, like she said. Andrew began to run after the half-glimpsed figure, rounding the corner of the building she’d vanished behind. They were alone on the streets, just Andrew and her. Their own private environment, like always. She was at the top end of another road when he turned the corner, and that would be the pattern for a while. He’d follow, but she’d remain tantalisingly out of reach. His brain was registering the street names, though, because he knew he’d have to use this route when he woke up.
If he ever woke up. For all he knew, those Sleepers back there had already infected him. Maybe he was a Sleeper now himself, dreaming. It was what they’d been trying to do to everyone else. No, somehow he knew that his mind was still his own, and he wasn’t being controlled. Yet.
It all hinged on finding this girl, as he’d always known. And he was trying to do just that, but she wasn’t making things easy for him. Perhaps she couldn’t, that was the point–
They won’t let me.
The mysteries weren’t over; in fact they were only just beginning. But that’s what he did, got to the bottom of mysteries. Solved them, fixed things so people could go on living. He saved lives. He’d save hers!
You can save them all, she told him, reading his thoughts. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do here. Come on, closer, closer… You’re so close now, I can almost feel you.
“Are you just a dream? A figment of my imagination? Or are you really real?” he asked.
Of course I’m real, she said with a slight laugh in her voice, as if to think otherwise would be madness. But he was a doctor, a scientist. He dealt in facts, and yet his whole existence hinged on this one hope, the faith he had that she would be here, waiting for him in Middletown. You’ll see. Just keep coming.
But she was fading from view with each turn, with each street he raced down after her. So was the street for that matter.
He rounded one last corner and came face-to-face with his worst fear.
The street was filled with Sleepers. With the monstrous things the people of this city had become.
They charged at him as one, because they were one. Asleep, “awake” – or animated, at least – they acted like a single entity, in spite of the fact they were made up of so many. Not just the people, but the things inside them he’d seen on that screen back in the bus.
He put up his hands to shield himself, knowing it would do little good. They’d be swarming all over him in seconds, pawing at him, trying to change him into what they were now. His eyes healing over, his skin covered in that–
Andrew screamed, opening his eyes.
But again there was only darkness.
Eight
“He’s awake! Oh, thank God,” said Bridget.
“Keep it fucking down.” That voice was gruffer. The man who’d refused to load the boy on the bus – and had probably been right not to do so. Andrew suspected that was to blame for the explosion. Timms, the soldier had been called. “We don’t want those bastards to find us again.”
Andrew was on the floor, lying down. It was dark, but only because there were no lights on, nothing to give away their position. Bridget helped him sit up.
“Are you okay, Andy?” she asked in hushed tones. “You took quite a knock to the back of the head.”
He nodded, wished he hadn’t. If he could have touched his skull there he would’ve felt a lump, Andrew was certain of it.
Bridget went on to explain what had happened since the bus. They’d managed to escape the Sleepers at the car park, making their way through the backstreets.
“The strange thing was none of the Sleepers we came across there attacked,” she told him.
“Yeah, what’s all that about?” asked Jackson Monks in the darkness – Andrew recognised his voice, too.
“I have a theory,” he told them. “I think they attacked us back at the bus because we were attacking them.”
“No we fucking weren’t.”
“Let the man finish what he’s saying, Timms,” warned Jackson.
“Fuck off.”
“Easy, easy,” said Andrew, trying to smooth things over, “don’t you think we have enough problems right now? Look, Bridget and I were gathering samples, working things out. We were about to take those back to the bus, then back to base. They couldn’t let that happen.”
“Who?” asked someone he didn’t recognise. “Those people out there?”
“Oh, that’s Coleman,” Jackson said by w
ay of a quick introduction. “Another private with our guys.”
Strauss nodded again and thought that he really should stop doing that. Not only did it hurt, there was also not much point when nobody could see what he was doing. “To answer your question, not so much the people, Coleman, but whatever’s inside them.”
“You’re trying to tell us that this virus is fucking alive?” said Timms.
“All viruses are,” Bridget pointed out.
“It was trying to defend itself, just like antibodies might try to defend a sick person from a disease.”
“But they were like... superhuman,” Coleman said with more than a quiver of panic in his voice. “Invulnerable. I ain’t never seen anything like it.”
“They’re so far under they just wouldn’t have felt it. That’s why I was trying to stop Timms from shooting–”
“Hey, mister fancypants egghead. If someone’s attacking me and I might end up with this fucking disease, whatever the fuck it is, I’m going to take them down any way I can.”
Andrew and Jackson groaned at the same time.
“But the first couple of Sleepers dropped after they’d been shot, didn’t they?” said Bridget.
“I just think they adapted. One gets shot, the others learn to compensate. It’s like the whole of Middletown is a hive mind now.”
“Like the Borg in TNG,” said Jackson.
“Thank you!” Andrew said, laughing. “Yes! Exactly right, that man. God, where have you been all day?”
“They started off human as well,” Jackson said, less happily.
“Borg can be cured. So can those people out there,” Andrew said emphatically. “Speaking of which, where exactly is ‘in here’?”
They’d broken into some kind of storage facility, filled with boxes. Sergeant Baker said it was safer to steer clear of homes, places of work, or wherever Sleepers might be; just in case. They were lying low, but also he was looking to get in contact with base camp as all the long range communication devices went up with the vehicles.
“They probably already suspect something might be wrong, but we could use a bit of backup right about now,” explained Jackson.
“Not sure exactly what good it would do us,” Andrew told him. “After they went all Paul Atreides on us–”
“All what?” asked Bridget.
“Dune, right?” said Jackson. “‘The sleeper has awoken.’ Read that book like a million times growing up.”
Andrew laughed again. “Bless you, Jackson. Yes that’s right. After the Sleepers woke up, although technically they’re not awake… but that’s a whole other thing. After they were… what, activated shall we say, they incapacitated you lot pretty quickly. Unless you’re going to step it up a gear, and wipe them out completely then… They’re not going to do that are they? Send in the big guns? I can still save these civilians.”
“You’d have to ask Sergeant Baker about that,” Jackson informed him.
“Sergeant fucking Baker. He’s not my sergeant,” Timms told anyone who’d listen.
“And boy am I glad about that!” came another voice, the man in question. It was off to the left somewhere, like the man had just come into the room.
“Sir,” said Jackson. “Any luck?”
“I think I should have sent you, lucky man, cos I couldn’t raise squat out there. Phonelines are still down, networks are still down. Our side is suppressing any communications to the outside world, just in case. We’re cut off, gentlemen.” There was a pause as he remembered Bridget. “And ma’am.”
“Suppressing communication so there wasn’t mass pandemonium,” Andrew mused.
“Dr Strauss, nice to have you back with us. Now what was that again?” asked the sergeant, and Andrew took him through his theories.
“You still think you can reverse this, find a cure?”
“I’m positive. But I think I need to sleep to be able to do it.”
“Run that by me again?”
Andrew didn’t expect him to understand what had happened when he blacked out; it was difficult enough for him to believe, let alone this hardened American soldier. But the key to all this lay in following, finding that woman.
“Listen, we don’t have much time.” There was a banging outside and he realised they had less than he thought. “I think I’ve led them here, while I was unconscious.”
“That’s… that’s crazy.”
“I think I was hooked into their network, however briefly Sergeant. There’s something there I need to do.”
“No. Andrew, you can’t. I know what you’re up to. Why you’re doing this. She’s not real, how many more times?”
“Who isn’t?” asked Jackson.
“Look, I don’t want to fucking worry anyone, but it sounds like the entire fucking city is gathering out there.”
“That’s because they want to stop me from… It doesn’t matter. I just need something to put me under again, maybe another blow to the head.”
“Don’t tempt me,” muttered Bridget, but there was concern rather than malice in her voice.
“I thought you just said they could track you while you’re asleep?” the sergeant pointed out.
“Yes, but–”
“Then that’s a no, Doctor. But we should be thinking about getting out of here.”
“It’s the only way,” Andrew protested as he heard people getting to their feet.
Bridget took his hand. “Come on, we need to move out. Please, Andy.”
He let her lead him, but also knew this wasn’t over. Ending the crisis and finding her had become intertwined in his mind.
As he’d said to the sergeant: it was the only way.
Nine
Radford stood in the makeshift watchtower that had been erected when they set up camp. He stared out beyond the cordon.
Warning bells had first started ringing when the “expedition” didn’t check in on the hour. Many attempts had been made to raise them since, but to no avail. Now they’d been out of contact for almost three hours. It was dark, and the major had a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He’d taken his concerns to General Fitzpatrick, naturally – but he’d been in a meeting with Colonel Huxley. “They’re not to be disturbed,” Dutton had informed him in no uncertain terms.
“Excuse me?” said the major, glaring at him, which had been known to reduce some men to tears.
“He’s in the middle of something very important.”
“Our team has gone dark, Dutton. This is important, as well. We need to–”
Dutton sniffed. Probably his allergies again, but Radford couldn’t help thinking the man was being dismissive. “He’s well aware of the situation.”
“I’d like to hear that from him, so if you’d mind stepping aside I–”
“Listen,” said Dutton. “You should know where your place is around here.”
“Oh, I think I do.” The major’s eyes became slits. He turned around and walked away, and he’d been up here ever since. Let them find him when they’d finished their little pow-wows. He didn’t have any time for it, politics and soldiering should never mix as far as he was concerned. But he also knew there were rules to follow, that the men in suits made the decisions (like the one to open fire on people from Middletown who might try to escape the quarantine; you could bet your life that was probably someone like Dutton’s call). He just didn’t care for people who sat in ivory towers and refused to get their hands dirty. Radford also didn’t care for this “special relationship” stuff with Huxley. The guy was still acting like he owned the place, was probably in that meeting right now telling the general what they should or shouldn’t do.
All he was concerned about were his men out there, looking after Dr Strauss and his assistant. They went in to help and something had gone seriously wrong. He felt it. The order should be given now for another aerial surveillance pass – checking out what had happened. It was one thing for the bus to go silent, or the UK or US squadrons, but all three? There w
ere a good 30 people out there, someone should have been in touch by now. Maybe they’d come down with this thing? Got infected, were all now asleep like the rest of Middletown? Radford had no bloody idea, and nobody was doing anything to find out!
It was as he stood there that he saw something in the distance – or thought he did. Approaching over the waste ground that was separating this part of the cordon from the outlying sections of the city. He squinted, this time so he could see better. It was dark out there, and getting darker by the moment, but he could definitely make out movement. “What the devil?”
Radford reached for the binoculars on the shelf nearby, placing them against his eyes. Yes, there on the horizon. A figure moving… walking towards the cordon. He turned to the soldier who was up there with him. “I need the spotlight over there,” he told him.
“Yes Sir,” came the man’s reply. He trained the light hanging from the side of the watchtower on the point Radford was indicating. It was a powerful beam, but they still had to wait until the figure was closer for it to have any impact. Radford kept the glasses pressed tight against his eyes, his hands wringing the lenses. The figure came into view, striding stiffly towards the cordon. He looked strange and, at first, the major couldn’t work out what was wrong. Then he saw that the person was covered in a thin layer of something. It looked for all the world like they’d been walking in the clouds before coming down to Earth. It was the wispy material he’d thought looked like cobwebs when he’d seen it on that footage back in the meeting. There was no question about it, this was one of the sufferers of the disease that had befallen the city of Middletown. Were it not for the fact this woman… because the major could just about make out that it was female… was upright, there would have been no difference between her and the other Sleepers he’d seen. She even had her eyes closed as far as he could tell, stepping further into the light – the soldier training his beam on her like a spotlight on a stage.