The Fading

by Linda Taimre

  Steven tried to steady his breathing. This was how Lady Trinh operated, peeling away all the layers of love until there was nothing left but hate and anger. And then she directed that exploding red hatred like a missile. He knew this tactic, he had watched her do it to several Lords and Ladies before him. I won’t give in to this. I will stay above this. “I understand my Lady. There are, as I hear, some outstanding schools outside the protectorate that I’m sure Carrie will be able to attend. I serve the people. I am not afraid to live among them.”

  Lady Trinh snorted and stood up, far shorter than Steven. “Don’t be tiresome. I understand what you are trying to do, pretending the idea of living outside is of no consequence to you. It’s a pointless exercise, as I know that isn’t true. You have enough pictures of your child on your desk that I know you want the very best for its education.”

  “Her. Her education,” said Steven.

  “I don’t care. Your offspring do not concern me.”

  Steven looked away from her gaze, worried that he would not be able to contain his rage too much longer. He longed to shake her compact frame and smash her nose, her tiny teeth. Stop it. That’s what she wants. Though the effort almost made him retch, he lifted his gaze and stared straight into her dragon eyes. “What is it that you need, Lady Trinh?”

  She cocked her head, a long, black ponytail swinging behind her. “For you to dispose of the two GrowForth employees.”

  Steven narrowed his eyes. “Murder? That’s a new one, even for you.”

  Lady Trinh made no comment. Steven’s eyes widened as he considered that this may not be her first execution order. “How do you get away with it?”

  She looked down at her desk for a moment, quiet and still, then looked up suddenly. She answered him. “I pay very well.”

  Steven sneered, turned away, and walked determinedly towards the black door of her office.

  “Lord Fiennes, I will guarantee a place for Carrie in the protectorate’s best primary and high schools, as well as definite receipt of a bursary for whichever field she chooses to study once at university.”

  He stopped, not able to bear to look at her. Voice shaking with fury – at himself for even considering it – he forced out a question. “Will I keep my job?”

  “There’ll be no question of your position once your poor record has been expunged by the completion of this one task.”

  Steven Fiennes spun to look at Lady Trinh, his grey eyes filled with contempt. “I won’t, you understand. I won’t let you do this.” Digging his hand into his suit pocket, he pulled out a communicator and began to fire it up. “I’m calling the police and reporting this abhorrent conversation.”

  Quietly, Lady Trinh asked, “Lord Fiennes, whose name is on the BX59 report confirming its appropriateness for use in the Fifth War?”

  “Lord Belliscoe. He was the Lord for Science at the time.”

  “I see.” She delicately pulled an infoslide from one of the piles. “I have the report here. I see Lord Belliscoe’s name, imprinted here. And a co-signature. Your co-signature.”

  Steven grabbed the report from her. “How absurd!”

  “Lord Fiennes, is that not your mark and identifier?”

  “But I had nothing to do with this report!” Steven cried.

  “The evidence I see disagrees with your assertion. And I imagine that most people, if they found out the origin of The Fading was in fact, their own government’s use of a biological weapon that was sworn to be suitable… I imagine that most people would be looking for someone to blame.”

  His hands trembled as he gripped the infoslide until his fingertips hurt.

  “It is really in your best interests that any traces of this connection be expunged. Lest a public lynching be on our hands.”

  “You’re despicable.”

  Lady Trinh leaned into Steven’s face so he could feel her warm breath as she snarled. “I’m doing exactly what needs to be done to protect this government, this protectorate, and avoid a panic. A global panic that could result in more deaths and more damage than this horrific disease is currently wreaking.”

  Lord Fiennes forced himself to stand firm in the face of this sudden viciousness. Do not recoil, Steve. Look her in the eye and take it. With a breath, Lady Trinh finished speaking and sat back down, suddenly but elegantly. “So. Steven. What is your answer?”

  Manipulative bitch. The Lord adjusted his broad shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll work for you. I’ll do this task. But know that if you renege on your agreement for Carrie’s education and my employment, I will break your neck.” Lady Trinh blinked rapidly, taking in the Lord’s violent expression. Steven’s mouth curled. “After all, I will have already killed twice before. I’ll have no trouble killing a third time.”

  The two politicians stared at each other for a moment, allowing the magnitude of the decision to settle on them both. It was Lady Trinh who broke the gaze first. She looked down at her desk again, opened a drawer and pulled out an infoslide. “Here are your targets, Lord Fiennes. Do it quickly, do it now. They are already in the Spire.”

  Katherine threw Italian for Beginners at the wall with disgust and lurched up to pace about apartment. She couldn’t concentrate, didn’t want to concentrate on anything. Depression had infiltrated every room and Katherine could no longer see past her own brain. This is bloody ridiculous. “I wanted to avoid quarantine, not create one in my own home.”

  The silence of the walls answered her. Standing in the middle of the living room, the thought of the gun she had acquired popped into her mind. She stood still for a moment longer, then walked suddenly towards the kitchen, opening the laminate cupboard above the sink. From there she grabbed an old biscuit tin in which clunked the heavy metal. It wasn’t easy for her to open it, she had bitten all her nails off and had very little to grip with. Finally, she prised away the lid and picked up the gun, hefting the metal in her hand with a confidence that she did not have. She found it fun to pretend she was someone who had lived with guns all their life, someone who could shoot a cigarette out of a fly’s mouth. It doesn’t matter though. I don’t need to know how to aim for what I’m going to do.

  Katherine slowly sat down on the couch, her knees shaking slightly. She could feel the muscles in her sides contract and relax over and over again. There was nothing she could do to stop these movements, she had long learned, so she tended to just observe the occurrences with interest. The gun was cold and heavy in her hands, particularly heavy considering its small size. She knew this wasn’t the time for her to go. She wasn’t far enough along yet. She really only wanted to do it at the start of the Wrenching, when she had had a chance to say goodbye to Harriet – but of course, of course, not when Harriet was there to see it.

  At least, that had been the plan. Over the past few hours, she had felt her body shifting and responding in ways that did not match previous reports of Fading instances. She was finding it hard to pinpoint where she was in the process, which made her nervous. What if she missed the deadline and couldn’t pull the trigger in time? What if these undocumented responses meant that she was going to evaporate in the next two minutes, without a full Wrenching?

  A faint wind blew in the back of her mind. Sounds that were almost-words tickled her synapses, thoughts with weight, thoughts she could see. Katherine shook her head, wanting to spill the almost-words out of her ears. Again. What is this new symptom? Hearing voices? Her body tingled all over, and she felt an involuntary breath blow inwards, expanding her chest and making her feel like her entire body was swelling, then falling, rising, then slowly returning to its normal shape. And she saw – or thought she saw – her limbs physically pulsing with an in-breath. It must be a fever. If I had a fever .

  An alert on Katherine’s communicator caught her attention, bringing her away from her pulsing limbs. She put the gun aside on the couch and read the headline with a sigh.

  Spire hit by alarm

  Reports of The Fading attacking govern
ment

  She shook her head. It’s inside the protectorate now. That’ll probably mean we’ll get more funding to fight it. It’ll be too late for me, but at least…

  A wave of sorrow pierced through her smog of depression as Katherine imagined being gone. She imagined how the world would continue without her. How people would go to work and try to solve the puzzle of The Fading without her input. How Harriet would cry but then she would still eat breakfast and she would still watch videos and her routine would continue without her. Dying sucks. This totally, absolutely sucks. Katherine dropped her communicator on the couch next to the gun and stared up at the ceiling. Why am I still here? Katherine looked at the clock on the wall – it read 4:56 pm. Almost time. Hurry home, my love. I need you.

  The woman paused on her walk down the Brisbane City street, looked at the sky, and grunted. It was a beautiful day, again. This walk was always better in the sunshine. She patted her hands on her grey-brown skirt, grubby from her work in her coffee stand, and gazed at the large Spire door directly opposite her. It was the door with the sphere, the two halves that came together in unity. The woman grunted again, pleased at the thought. She watched as four security guards swiftly moved to the giant wood doors, then beyond them, to move people back from the side of the Spire. This was curious, curious enough to warrant putting down her bag for a moment. Four security guards at one time was a rare sight. The guards barked something in unison and filed efficiently back beyond the wooden threshold. She saw two guards stand on either side of the door, just inside, and pull out what looked like tiny comms units. The woman stepped forward, squinting. Another barked command, and then a sucking noise suddenly bounced across the street to the woman as the enormous doors, the pride of the Spire, were swung shut.

  “Oh,” she said, as she watched something happen for the first time since the Fifth War.

  An official strode towards Lady Trinh’s office, his hands trembling. He arrived at the entrance and knocked three times. The alarms had been turned off and the lights were now dim. The door swung open, pulled forcefully by Lady Trinh.

  “Tuan, why are the Spire doors closed?” she asked loudly.

  “Lady Trinh.” He bowed curtly, efficiently, hands clasped behind his back. He wanted to deliver the news as professionally as possible.

  “Yes, yes, tell me now.”

  “Lady Trinh, I’m sorry to report that Lord Belliscoe has been taken by The Fading.”

  Lady Trinh stopped. “How is this possible? He exhibited no signs of infection.”

  “It seems that our previous estimates regarding the incubation time now no longer apply.”

  “What does that mean?” She spoke quickly, louder than usual, causing the young man to sweat.

  “It means… it means that we can’t be certain that our previous estimates regarding the incubation time –”

  “It means we have no idea how long it takes to be killed off by this disease,” said Lady Trinh.

  The official nodded. “Yes, ma’am. There was an apparent release of BX59 in the lab area. We have no option now but to assume the building is contaminated and as such we urge you to get to one of the safe areas –”

  “So BX59 has been released in the building, but we are not yet paralysed. How is that so?”

  The young man stood with his mouth slightly open. “We’re not sure, ma’am.”

  Good. The knowledge of the growing consciousness is not yet public. “Well, if I’m not paralysed despite being in an infected area, I see no need to go into quarantine. I’ve read enough about BX59 to know it will get to you within minutes.” No need to tell him more .

  “Ma’am, I must insist –”

  “No, Tuan, I will not go into quarantine. There is too much to be done here to ensure the safety of the protectorate. The doors are now shut – is the rest of the building secure?”

  “Yes, to best of our abilities. The hermetic seals are in place. However, preliminary reports from the lab show that such seals aren’t effective against this particular strain of BX59.”

  Lady Trinh pressed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth. There was nothing to do but keep up appearances as best as possible. “That can’t be helped now. That will be all.”

  The official hesitated for a moment before turning on his heel and exiting the office. No doubt his superior will be calling shortly to encourage my quarantine . She would never go. She needed to be on hand for the critical decisions. If I’m taken, at least I know it will now be swift. I won’t have too much time to ponder my own mortality .

  The woman leaned back in her chair, allowing herself to slump for the first time all day. She considered the fate of the Prime Lady, Joanne Sarah Halliday. Now that was a formidable woman . Australia’s seat of federal government had been managed from Brisbane by a local woman. She was a superb judge of character and had ruled with vigour and sense. Joanne Sarah Halliday had been taken by The Fading almost three weeks ago. It’s suspected she contracted it on a visit to the suburbs outside of the protectorate. Lady Trinh was her second, Acting Prime Lady. And she refused to be taken before securing the safety of her charges.

  Footsteps were sounding in the hallway. Leena stopped pacing and stood still in her comfortable prison. They might walk straight past me, like all the others. They are walking very quickly. They probably won’t stop . As quietly as possible, she crept to the door to listen. Any information she could glean as to what was happening outside may prove useful. She wasn’t street-savvy, but she was patient. She knew how to wait, how to gather information, how to plan her escape. The footsteps slowed as they approached her door. There was a muffled voice, then silence. Three rapid knocks and a loud, demanding voice.

  “Dr. Kitt. We need to speak with you urgently. Open the door.”

  The scientist weighed up the options in her head. Either it was someone who could help her, or it was someone who wanted to hurt her. It’s likely that whoever wanted to hurt her would be a captor and would, therefore, have a key to the room. So. Best guess is, it’s a friendly . “I can’t open the door. I’m in prison. A prison stocked with tiny water bottles.”

  There was more muffled speech. Leena counted two voices – no, for a split second, she thought she heard many, many more – though that passed, and a lone, faraway voice resounded in her head.

  Dr. Kitt. Dr. Leena Kitt.

  “What the – do you have a loudspeaker?” Leena yelped.

  “Right, stand back, Dr. Kitt.”

  “What? Why?” Leena’s words were cut off suddenly by wood splintering. One of her saviours had brought a fire axe to the door. The wood split with screeches and cracks. “You’re going to get us killed! Everyone in the whole building can hear that.”

  Between grunts of effort, Harriet got out a response. “Everyone in the – grugh – whole building – grugh – has bigger problems – grugh – to worry about.”

  Thank you, Harriet, Kiah. You have allowed me to travel far enough.

  With the integrity of the door sufficiently damaged, Harriet gave it an exuberant kick with her boots, almost laughing as she did it. She then squeezed through the gap in the door, coming to stand in front of Dr. Kitt, breathing heavily and shining with sweat. Kiah followed through after her, a little more easily than Harriet.

  Dr. Kitt stared at the two, standing in her pink trainers, hands on hips. “What on earth are you two doing? And who are you?”

  “Dr. Kitt, how wonderful to meet you. I’m Harriet Braxton, and this is Kiah Billingan.”

  And then there’s me.

  Leena shook her head slightly as if to dislodge an errant paperclip in her mind, clearing it to make sense of the people in front of her. “Who was that?”

  Harriet pulled out a chair and gestured for the doctor to sit. “Please, Dr. Kitt, this is not going to be a fun conversation.”

  That ’s a bit rude.

  Leena froze as the low, soft voice tingled in her mind again. “Wait. Is this it? Is it happening?”

  Ye
s. Leena. Kiah and Harriet have travelled me here.

  This particular thoughtvoice resounded in all three of the women’s minds. Leena glared at the other two. “So, you infected me? Well, bugger it.”

  “We’re sorry, Dr. Kitt, we were threatened by it,” said Harriet.

  Her.

  “Threatened how? Ah. Don’t answer. It’s obvious.” Leena Kitt sat down hard. “So.” She breathed deeply and flattened her hands against her thighs.

  “So,” said Harriet.

  “So, you, infection, what are we doing here?” Kiah demanded.

  Kiah. I am not an infection. I am me.

  Harriet closed her eyes momentarily, overcome with the stress of thinking about Katherine. Come on Harriet, this is your chance , Harriet thought to herself. This is the best chance you have to save her.

  Kiah. I see your friend. This friend, Katherine. You know her well, but she isn’t yours. She is Harriet’s. Harriet Braxton.

  Kiah and Harriet looked at each other. They both sighed in almost exactly the same way. Exhaustion covered Harriet, seeping into her skin, her fear for Katherine coating her whole being.

  Why do you care so much, Harriet Braxton? Why do you care so much about Katherine? I have not yet fed on her. I will soon. Soon I will have her… and that… affects you. Saddens you. I sense sadness. I sense anger. I sense fear. What are you scared of Harriet Braxton? Are you scared of me?

  Harriet looked at Dr. Kitt when she responded. “My wife is sick. I don’t know why the infection brought us here, but I know why I want to speak with you. How do we stop it?”

  Her. I am a her, Harriet Braxton.

  Leena looked at Harriet’s watering eyes.

  Her. There are more women in me than men in me and so I am a her.

  The doctor’s hands clenched involuntarily as she cowered at the thought. “Stop it? We can’t kill it. It – she – Is another life-form, a consciousness that now has rights. She has been born and deserves to live.”