The Abandoned Trilogy (Book 1): Twice Dead (Contagion)

by Suchitra Chatterjee

  “How did you survive?” I wasn’t expecting him to ask that question. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I had said too much already. I needed to keep a curb on my own tongue and here I was, worrying about what Cassidy and Stevie would say.

  Before I could say anything, he added thoughtfully, “You’d think Epsilon Command would be interested in why everyone here survived the contagion, how those two men survived, what is so special about all of you that you didn’t turn into the Twice Dead?” He wasn’t directing the question at me, he was thinking aloud.

  I said nothing, but my heart was pounding in my chest. We would have been better off with a Colonel who was gung-ho and thought of nothing, but the orders he was being given from those above him, never questioning them, but just doing his duty.

  Wolf was doing his duty, but he was also questioning why we survived and also why we were being abandoned. Maybe not to the powers that be, but to himself, which in my opinion right at that moment was more dangerous than those he served. Under that green and grey combat uniform was a man with a compassionate heart, a good man surviving in terrible times.

  I slowly added my lines to my drawing. Concentrating hard to appear nonchalant and disinterested. He moved his eyes to what I was doing.

  “You’re good,” he stood up, stubbing out his cigarette on the bench and dropping it onto the gravel, “You can keep the Glock, I’ve put some ammunition for it in your room, it’s under your bed.”

  Now that took me by surprise.

  “Thank you,” I called out to him.

  “You’re welcome,” he didn't turn around. I watched him walk away, a tall man, a weary man, a good man with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

  ‘Lewis Hamilton’ - An extreme customised rough terrain wheelchair named in honour of the British racing driver Lewis Hamilton. Maintained and used by Seb Garrow, the chair has an ‘added something’ that allows it to go beyond the speed of an ordinary wheelchair.

  Eden came to see me that evening after supper. Jasmine was in the kitchen helping wash up, Cassidy and Stevie had taken the dogs out for a walk with Gabe, whilst Percy was making a soup for lunch tomorrow that needed to simmer overnight.

  Adag was with Paul, Phoenix was doing his usual monitoring of COBRA in his room, and Seb had disappeared with Mitch into the garage.

  I was sitting at the dining table sorting through the medication that Mitch had retrieved from the chemist. I was dividing it up, pain medication into one box, antibiotics into another and so on. I had become Adag’s official assistant, or slave, as Seb said. I told him to bugger off.

  I sensed Eden before I saw her. I turned my head, she was hovering, her face flushed and excited, clutching her adult colouring book to her chest.m

  “What’s up Eden?” I said and she sidled up to me and whispered in my ear.

  “I heard two of the soldiers use those words!”

  I went still. I glanced around the dining room. We were on our own, but I wasn’t willing for anyone to possibly overhear us so I stood up and said, “Can you help me carry some of this to the Yellow Room,” I pointed to the sorted tablets and meds from the chemist.

  The Yellow Room was where all the medication for the residents were kept. Some of it was locked in special cupboards on the wall, but most of it was stacked on metal shelves. The room was next to the now defunct TOR Space and it had a yellow door, hence the name.

  Together we carried the boxes into the Yellow Room and I shut the door behind us. I let Eden tell me what she had heard in her own words. She was very excited to be able to tell me something.

  “I was colouring in my new book on the table,” she said importantly, “They were behind me,” she wrinkled her nose, “They were smoking.”

  “What were their names?”

  “Corporal Duke, the other was a lady soldier, her name is Loretta.”

  Duke. Now why wasn’t I surprised? I tried to visualise which soldier Loretta was, but couldn’t until Eden described her. Pretty, petit with scraped back blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a snub nose, a bit flat chested, but she was lithe and strong, she had been one of the soldiers who had been sent to collect the solar generator from town.

  “What did they say?”

  Eden took me by surprise then. She opened her colouring book and I saw on the blank side of her coloured pictures she had made some notes. She had not spelt all of the words correctly, but I was able to know what words were what and she had also managed to phonetically spell out quite a few other words, which took me by surprise. Eden was proving her worth in ways even I hadn’t anticipated.

  What she had overheard made very interesting hearing. Loretta was saying that Wolf was doing way too much for us. Duke had said it looked better that way. What did that mean? I told Eden not to worry about it.

  Duke then said the New World Succession couldn’t isolate the contagion, that the Chosen Elite were worried, he also said the word scientist several times, along with a particular name, Professor Aaron Zimmerman. Eden had struggled to spell that phonetically, but she had managed.

  “New World Succession? Chosen Elite?” I echoed the unfamiliar words that were soon to become a big part of our vocabulary and the Eden nodded her head.

  “He said them a lot,” Eden frowned, “What do they mean?”

  “I don’t know,” I had to admit, “But you did well Eden, thank you.”

  “They didn’t know I was listening,” Eden said proudly.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her they probably thought her so stupid she wouldn’t understand what they were saying.

  “You did really well,” I said to her again, “Keep listening, but don’t let them know you are listening,” she nodded her head vigorously and then together we put the medication away onto the shelves and then she trotted off to find Jasmine as they were going to watch a DVD together in the lounge.

  I went to Phoenix and asked him to research the name Aaron Zimmerman scientist both on the web and on the COBRA site and could he find out what the hell the Chosen Elite were?

  Phoenix’s conspiracy theory about the outside specialist army units being infiltrated with people from the world’s Central Commands was correct.

  Two that we knew of, perhaps more, I wasn’t sure, I asked Phoenix if he was able to access the personnel military files of the units that had played a part in the supposed training exercises. I didn’t know what to look for exactly, but Phoenix’s analytical mind would work it out one way or another.

  He said it would take a bit of time because it would mean going into parts of COBRA that needed a specific person’s name and password, but once someone did go into that part of the computer, he would follow them and mirror them so they weren’t aware they were being watched.

  I didn’t profess to understand what he was talking about, I just let him get on with it. I then asked him about the term New World Succession. To my surprise, he knew what it was.

  Apparently every continent now had a Command Centre that control the chosen elite, Europe’s was Epsilon Command, with Alpha Command for Asia, Beta Command for Africa, Gamma Command for North America, Delta Command for the South Americas, Zeta Command for Australia, and finally Kappa Command for Oceania.

  I wondered what Wolf’s opinion would be if he knew some of his soldiers weren’t singing from the same songbook as him. That they had their own means of communicating with Epsilon Command. I suspected he would be well and truly fucked off.

  Radio. I gripped my crutch handle tightly as I left Phoenix’s room. I headed for the garage where Seb and Mitch were. Mitch was going through his toolbox whilst Seb was as usual tinkering with Lewis.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him. He was coating the thick tires with a black rubbery substance that was in a large tin he was holding. I could smell it even before I opened the door. I waved my hand in front of my face in disgust.

  “Giving it a bit of welly,” he said.

  “Like you did with Mark’s scooter?” I reached out and touched a bl
ack three-inch-thick steel rod with a rotating socket and ball mechanism on the top of it, which held a small plastic platform with some kind of screw-based implement that looked like it would hold something in place. The rod itself was welded onto the side of the chair and when Seb was sitting in the chair, it overlooked his shoulder, “What on earth is this?”

  He laughed, “I think Mark shit his pants that day, his face was a picture,” Seb pushed my hand from the rod, “It holds my Go-Pro camera.”

  “So was your mug when Adag busted your ass,” I said, and his face reddened as he remembered that incident. I had never seen Adag so angry, well I had, just the other day, though he would never admit it, Seb was shocked by her reaction to what he protested had “just been a little joke!” Adag had screamed at him that he was going to find out what it was like to have a two week regulated lifestyle. The kind of lifestyle that the more severely learning disabled residents had.

  For two weeks Seb’s electric wheelchairs, including his beloved Lewis, where locked away, he was only allowed to use a manual chair that was PA controlled. He was banned from working on any of his electrical projects and made to spend his time in the company of a one-to-one PA, mostly the Gorilla. Instead of being allowed to stay up for as long as he wanted in his room, he was in bed for eight. His every activity was regulated and structured and he hated every single minute of it but he never touched another person’s mobility vehicle other than his own after that.

  I eyed the holder for the Go-Pro, “Going to film yourself hitting a tree are you?”

  Seb snorted, “Ha bloody ha, you are so funny…not, we get treated like kids in here.”

  “You behave like a kid,” I went and sat on a stool by Mitch’s workbench.

  “Not anymore,” he said cheerfully.

  “So that’s what it takes,” I said in a deadpan voice, “The end of the world to make you happy?” He stopped in mid paint stroke, the brush hanging over the front tire, his mouth dropped open and then he realised I was teasing him. He pointed his dripping paintbrush at my chest.

  “You Lady of Shadows are an evil bitch.”

  “Still waters run deep,” Mitch said from his toolbox. He reached for a rag and began to wipe his hands on it, “What can we do for you Lucy?”

  “Stop calling me Lucy for starters,” I wanted to say, but didn’t, “My name is Lucia,” Instead I said, “Did you get your radio back from the Colonel?”

  Mitch shook his head.

  “Do you have another one?”

  “Now why would you think I had another one?” Mitch tried to look affronted.

  “You were in the army a long time,” I said, “People collect things.”

  Mitch laughed and then he nodded his head, “I have a few things still from those days, I don’t leave them on display.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “What are you up to Lucy?”

  I told him about what Eden had overheard. Seb’s mouth dropped open again when he realised I was utilizing Eden, Stevie and Cassidy to earwig on the soldier’s conversations.

  “Are you nuts?” he spluttered.

  “You said we were invisible,” I reminded him of what he had recently said.

  “They’re not stupid though,” Seb pointed out.

  “I know they’re not.” I rubbed my knee as I spoke, “I think they are bloody dangerous if you want my opinion, but we have to stay one step ahead of them, this isn’t a game to them, their precious New World Succession have already killed survivors, all that is protecting us is the fact that contempt for the disabled hasn’t changed even with the rise of the Twice Dead, but we need to know what they know.”

  “She’s right,” Mitch said.

  “Be careful Lady of Shadows,” Seb slowly resumed his painting, “Be really careful.”

  “Always,” I replied grimly, “Always.”

  Mitch went and got the radio, he had worked out the analogue frequencies that Wolf’s unit were using to communicate with each other and listened in most evenings. He hadn’t, he said to me heard any communication that seemed to be with anyone external to the home. It all appeared to be in house.

  “But I know that Wolf is in touch with this Epsilon Command,” I said in a frustrated voice.

  “They are using short wave here, but there is no long wave communication I can find,” Mitch said, “That might be because they are aware we had monitored them before, they could have changed how they communicate outside of here.”

  “Satellite,” Seb said suddenly.

  We both turned to look at him.

  “It’s not working,” I said.

  “Ours might not be,” he said, “But they could have a working satellite dish in one of their trucks, “That’s digital communication, totally different from analogue, and long and short wave.”

  “Bollocks,” I was frustrated. So near and yet so far.

  Seb looked thoughtful, “Satellite signals are pretty much the same, our dish could pick up their signal if it was configured the right way.”

  “It’s on the roof,” Mitch pointed out, “You can’t get up there.”

  “You can, I can tell you what to do.”

  “How can we hear what is going on?” I asked.

  “It’s all about tuning in,” Seb said, “Picking up the right digital signal, and then finding a way to listen in, I think Phoenix might have something in his room that will help.”

  I didn’t ask what that something might be. Firstly, I didn’t think I would understand it and secondly it was probably totally and utterly illegal.

  “Make up a story about checking the electrics if any of the soldiers ask you anything,” I advised Mitch.

  “There’s a trip box up there,” Mitch said, “I’ll take my tool kit with me, make it look like I am doing maintenance.”

  We had become the masters of deception in a short period of time I thought. Who would have thought that we had it in us?

  “I’ll leave that with you two, and Phoenix then,” I said, and I went into the lounge were I found Jasmine and Eden, in front of the TV; they had been joined by Percy, Gabe and the dogs. Cassidy and Stevie were having a snack at the dining table and I headed for my room. I was tired and I wanted to try and get some real sleep.

  Adag had settled Paul down for the night. He was sleeping better with the stronger medication Nat had provided. She came to see me afterwards, tapping gently on my door. She carried two mugs of tea, I accepted it, and she sat down on my computer chair.

  She sipped her drink and watched me from under her hooded eyes. I wasn’t sure what she wanted so I waited for her to speak.

  “Do you ever think about your family?” Her question wasn’t what I expected her to ask, “Your real family.”

  “They died when I was three.”

  “I know,” she replied, “But do you remember them?”

  “Not really,” I shrugged my shoulders, “Just images sometimes, a woman with blonde hair, a tall man with brown eyes, just that.”

  “You stayed with one foster family for quite a while,” she said. I didn’t reply, I knew she was referring to Theresa. I was with them for three years. From the age of 13 to the age of 15.

  “It was quite a big investigation,” she said, “You were never questioned by the police were you?”

  “No,” I said, “Social Services said I wasn’t mentally competent enough to be questioned.”

  “But you were,” Adag said, “Yes, you have a physical disability, but your mind is your own Lucia, I didn’t really see that, not until now.”

  “If they had questioned me I would have told them the truth,” I would have but I was never questioned because I was seen as being a victim, the only one to survive what Theresa did.

  I clenched my fist. I had tried to forget that time, I had pretty much succeeded, but now it was rearing its ugly head and I didn’t like how it made me feel.

  “You will have to face it one day,” Adag was relentless. I didn’t reply. Silence worked w
ell for me, mostly it did.

  “My parents didn’t want me to marry Michael,” Adag’s changed the subject and I was relieved, “We don’t marry Gora’s they said.”

  I knew what the word Gora meant, I had heard it used by Asian boys in one of the schools I had attended when I was well enough.

  I wondered why she was talking to me so intimately. I didn’t mind as I had started to grow rather fond of Adag. I hadn’t liked her asking me about Theresa but I could understand why she wanted to know. A lot of people wanted to know. After all it was a tragedy in their eyes.

  “Pia bought us back together, she was their only Grandchild.”

  “Your parents,” I said awkwardly, “Where they…”

  “Yes,” she interrupted me, “They live…lived in London, in Hampstead, Pia went to stay with them for the weekend, she had been coming to stay with me, but I persuaded her to go and see them instead,” my stomach turned with the horror of Adag’s words. I gripped my mug of tea tightly in my hands and stared numbly at her. To say I was sorry would mean nothing.

  Adag took a mouthful of tea, “She had just got engaged, she said she wanted to be married before the baby came.”

  Not just one loss. Her daughter had been pregnant. Adag looked at me directly.

  “If you manage to survive,” she said, “And it’s a slim chance, but better than before, then you really need to think about having children, don’t be the last, don’t let the others be the last either.”

  “What do you mean?” I told you I could be obtuse sometimes.

  “I know Jasmine was having sex with one of the soldiers,” my mouth dropped open and she smiled, “And I know you put a stop to it, rightfully so, but I think it might be too late.”

  “She might not be,” I managed to say.

  “She might not be,” Adag agreed, “But from what I have heard, they were going at it like hammer and tongues, and no they didn’t use protection.”

  I didn’t ask Adag how she knew all of this. I was too stunned actually to ask any questions.