by J. L. Harden
“Kim? Where are you?”
I pass another empty aisle. And another. “Kim!?”
I start running.
“I am going to die!” Kim says.
I run faster.
I slam into Daniel and fall over.
Daniel has a rifle slung over his shoulder. The rifle is not loaded. He has two magazines in his other hand. “Rebecca, what are you doing? Where is Sarah?”
“Can you hear that?” I ask.
“Hear what?”
“I think Kim is down here.”
“That’s impossible,” he says.
I hear Kim’s voice again. Calling to me. “I need my meds.”
I get back to my feet and start running.
“Rebecca,” Daniel calls out to me. “We’ve only got two minutes left. Your air filter is going to expire! Get back here! We have to go!”
But again, just like before in the subway tunnel, I am not listening to Daniel’s warning. I hear Kim. I swear to god I can hear Kim.
“Rebecca!” Daniel shouts. “Get ba…”
Daniel’s voice cuts out. I hear a noise. A thump. A muffled cry of pain. I ignore it. I concentrate on Kim’s voice.
And then I hear Jack’s voice… “Where the hell do we go?”
And none of this makes sense. Jack sounds like he is up ahead. But that’s impossible. He’s hiding back in C block. He is hiding under the stairs. Did he make his way down here? Was there an emergency? Was he forced to leave his hiding spot?
But how would he know to come here?
He wouldn’t.
He doesn’t know the way.
I hear Jack’s voice again. “What the hell are you talking about? Where have you been?”
And then I hear Kim’s voice again.
My gas mask beeps at me. The built-in timer is telling me that I am running out of time. Running out of air. I have a minute remaining. Maybe less. Maybe more. My hand goes to my backpack. I sling it off my shoulders and I unzip the pack.
I see the belt of EMP grenades.
But I can’t find the air filters.
I can’t see them.
My hand frantically digs around the backpack. But I have absolutely no air filters.
None whatsoever.
Where the hell are they all?
I have less than a minute remaining.
I hear Kim’s voice yet again. She is moaning in pain. She is dying.
I look up, and in front of me are huge double doors. The doors are chained together. They are chained shut. I think this is the entrance to the next warehouse over.
“Rebecca,” Kim says, clear as day. “I need my meds.”
It sounds like the voice is coming from the other side of the doors. I try forcing them open, but the chain holds them together.
“I am going to die,” Kim says.
And then the doors open slightly. They are being pushed from the other side. They open just a crack, just enough so I can see into the next warehouse over.
The smell hits me first. Even with the gas mask on. And then I see a warehouse full of dead bodies.
A sea of corpses. I see some infected people, walking aimlessly through the bodies.
Some of them are feeding, eating. Some of them are just standing there. And then they hear me, and then they are trying to open these doors. They are pushing against them.
I should’ve known. I should’ve known these doors were chained shut for a reason.
I am not thinking straight.
I close the doors. I make sure the chains are secure, and I back away.
I hear Kim’s voice again.
“Rebecca. I am going to die…”
The infected continue slamming into the double doors. The doors buckle and strain and bulge. But they hold. At least for the moment.
“Rebecca. I am going to die…”
I search my bag again for the air filters. I am running out of time. I am running out of clean air.
My head feels light. My limbs feel heavy.
In my backpack I find the belt of EMP grenades. And nothing else. I could’ve sworn I had a spare air filter. I could’ve sworn I had at least three of them. Sarah made sure I had them.
She checked my pack.
Where have they gone?
Did they fall out?
I have less than a minute remaining. I have seconds remaining. I have to get back before I suffocate, before I die.
The voices have stopped. I can no longer hear Kim. I can no longer hear Jack. Maybe the voices were in my head. Maybe I am finally starting to lose my mind. I am about to zip my bag up and sling it over my shoulders. I am about to turn and run back the way I came.
But I don’t get the chance. I see a ghost. It is floating down the other end of the aisle.
I see George Walters.
I see the Warden.
I see a nano-swarm using a camouflage technique.
It is hunting.
It is adapting.
I see George Walters, but I hear Kim’s voice. “I need my meds… or I am going to die.”
I throw the EMP grenades immediately, one after the other. I throw three of them just to be sure. The swarm dissipates into a cloud of black smoke.
I turn and run. We have to go. Screw the guns. We’ll have to think of something else. We’ll have to make another plan. We can’t risk being in this warehouse, not with the nano-swarm right here, hunting us.
I keep sprinting. My heartbeat rises. My breathing becomes fast and shallow. I don’t feel like I’m sucking in any fresh oxygen at all. I see Sarah up ahead. She is standing in the doorway, in the entrance to a room. She is waving me forward.
My gas mask beeps again.
I have seconds remaining.
I make it to the room. We’re in some kind of office.
“I need an air filter,” I say, I gasp.
But Sarah shakes her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“Relax. Just breathe. And don’t take your mask off. It will be over soon.”
“What the hell are you doing? Where is Jack? Where’s Daniel?”
Other people step into the room. I don’t recognize them.
It’s hard to see their faces. They are all wearing gas masks.
“Don’t struggle,” Sarah whispers in a calm and soothing voice. “And whatever you do, do not take off your mask.”
Sarah has betrayed us. She has double crossed us.
And I can’t breathe.
I hear a ‘click’ as the air filter closes off.
I claw at my mask. I claw at my neck.
I’m choking. I’m drowning.
Sarah grabs my hands. She trips me over, tackling me to the ground. She slams my arms on the ground above my head. “Do not take off your mask! Suffocating is better than breathing in the airborne strain. It’s better than turning.”
I’m trying to breathe. But the air filter has closed off. Each breath contains less oxygen. More carbon dioxide.
My arms feel heavy. My chest and my lungs burn. My world turns dark.
“Just relax,” Sarah says. “It will all be over soon.”
Darkness. I don’t mind. I don’t mind because I am too weak to care.
Sarah has betrayed us all. Lied to us. Double crossed us.
Trust is a valuable thing. A dangerous, and deadly thing.
Trust no one.
I am passing out. My vision narrows. My world is getting darker. I am choking and dying.
Trust no one.
Chapter 31
I am once again in a dark place. A familiar place. I am in a warehouse illuminated only by the faint glow of emergency lighting. This warehouse is full of bodies torn apart by machine gun fire.
Torn apart by a plague.
These people were innocent.
These people were massacred.
The man in the gas mask is standing next to me. “I never knew the military and the company would act this way. I always hoped they would. But I could never be
certain.”
I know this is a dream. I know I am having a conversation with myself, my subconscious. I am still horrified.
“Your friend,” he says. “The Evo Agent. He is right.”
“What?”
“The Evo Agent. He is right.”
“About what?”
“You have been lucky. Very lucky. Your group. But sooner or later your luck will run out. The wheel of fortune. The law of averages. It is a universal law. It is an iron law.”
“Shut up. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I am trying to prepare you. I am trying to prepare your soul.”
“Daniel might be right, you may be right, but we’ve been better than just lucky.”
I say this, half lying, half telling the truth. I’m trying to hide my fears. But I don’t think it’s working. I am too tired, too exhausted. My emotions are written all over my face, my body.
My heart is exposed.
He knows what I fear.
“We’re strong as a group,” I say.
“Yes, you are. You are very strong. And I admire that. Soon, we will find out just how strong. Death will test us all. Sooner or later. Prepare yourself.”
I wake up, gasping for air. I feel like I’m drowning.
“Rise and shine, sweetheart.”
A man wearing a black bandanna that covers his mouth, stands over me. He is holding a bucket.
He throws water over me. The cold water shocks me awake. I’m breathing hard and fast.
But I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know what’s happening.
Trust no one.
I try and think things through.
Did Sarah betray us? Did she hand us over to the residential survivors?
They’ve changed. They’re wild.
What happened to Daniel? What happened to Jack?
Where the hell are my friends?
I can’t figure it out.
And the only thing I know for certain, is this man, wearing a black bandana over his face, he just wasted a whole bucketful of perfectly good drinking water.
I try standing up, I try moving. But I realize I am tied up. My hands are tied behind my back. My legs are tied together.
And it takes me forever to realize that Sarah is standing right next to me.
“You would’ve ruined everything,” she whispers. “You would’ve brought them all here. You were dead anyway. We’re doing you a favor by taking you in.”
“You don’t believe that,” I say.
“Yes. I do. When I found you, you were all… you would’ve died if I didn’t let you in. The infected would’ve found you, or you would’ve walked right into the airborne strain. You had no chance of survival. No chance.”
“Where are my friends?” I ask.
“They’re right behind you.”
I look over my shoulder. And sure enough, there they all are.
Kenji.
Jack.
Maria.
Kim.
Daniel.
And a man I have never seen before. He is shirtless. His muscular body is covered in camouflage pain. He looks like a soldier. He is a member of the Death Squad.
They are all kneeling down. Heads lowered. They are tied up, just like me.
They are all gagged.
A woman enters the room. She has jet black hair. She is rake thin, probably from months of malnutrition, months of stress, of living day to day, of not knowing if she will live or die.
Her eyes are hollow and tired.
“Don’t fight,” she says. “It will be over soon.”
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
She points to Kim. And the man in the black bandana drags Kim forward, dropping her at the feet of the woman.
“Now let’s see if you’ve learnt anything yet,” the woman asks. “What is your name?”
Kim slowly gets to her knees. The man removes the gag from her mouth.
“What is your name?” the woman asks.
“Kim,” she whispers.
“Speak up!”
“Kim,” she says louder, feardully. She says it like she’s not even sure that’s her name.
The one thing I’ve learnt about fear, from constantly living in fear for my life and fear for my friend’s life, is that fear comes from uncertainty. It comes from the unknown. From big scary questions. Like, are we going to die today? Are we going to die tomorrow? Where are we going to find food? Water? Shelter? And this fear, it creates more fear, and more uncertainty.
And more.
And more.
It is an endless cycle that feeds on itself and grows and grows.
And right now, Kim is so afraid, she is so terrified, she’s not even sure of her own name.
She says, “Kim?”
She says it with no conviction. No confidence.
“No,” the woman says. “Your name is not Kim. Your name is Killer. Because that’s what you are. You’re a killer. You killed innocents.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I say. “We haven’t…”
“I’m not talking to you. I didn’t ask you a goddamn thing.”
She turns back to Kim. She is waiting for an answer.
“I didn’t kill any innocent people,” Kim says. “I had nothing to do with what happened down here. I swear.”
“You were working with them. I saw you. I saw you with the General.”
Kim shakes her head.
“Are you calling me a liar? Did my eyes deceive me?”
No answer.
“That’s what I thought,” the woman says. “You’re a killer. Your name is Killer. Say it.”
Kim is on her knees, her head is lowered, her shoulders are slumped forward. Her hands are tied behind her back. Her legs are tied together.
She can’t move. She can’t do anything.
She is helpless. Defenseless.
We all are.
Right now, we are being conditioned. And the only thing Kim can do, is convince this woman that she is not a killer. That she is not a murderer.
That her name is Kim.
But I have a feeling that this woman and these people are beyond reasoning with. I have a feeling that every single person they come across is guilty of mass murder.
We have to do something.
The woman has a gun strapped to her thigh. She is wearing a belt and a holster. Like a cowboy. A cowgirl. An outlaw.
She removes the gun from the holster. It is an old-style revolver.
It has a fancy pearl handle.
The metal is silver and shiny. Like she has polished it and taken great care of it.
“Please don’t,” Kim says.
“Do you know what this is?” the woman asks, ignoring Kim.
Kim nods. “Yes. It’s a gun.”
The woman shakes her head. “No. It is not just a gun. This thing, this weapon, is a message. It is a communication device.”
Kim is not following, she doesn’t understand. You can see it in her eyes. Her face.
“Do you know what this communication device is saying?”
“No.”
“It’s saying, you are worthless. It is saying, you are expendable. It is saying, you are already dead. They gave these to the civilians who sought refuge here. The civilians who they rescued in those early days. In those days of panic. The military and the company thought they could still save people, they thought they could rescue people, bring them here. They thought we could wait it out.”
“I’m sorry…” Kim says.
The woman slaps Kim across the face. “Do. Not. Speak.”
My pulse races.
A tear streaks down Kim’s face.
“This gun represents death,” the woman continues. “It represents a hopeless situation.”
“We could’ve rescued people,” Kim says.
The woman raises her hand to hit Kim, but she stops herself. “We? So, you were working with them? You are one of them?”
“No
. I was rescued. I was saved. I’m a civilian. I’m a police officer from Sydney. But I’m not a soldier. I’m not with the military or the company.”
The woman continues, ignoring Kim’s confusing explanation of who she is, and how she came to be here. “They soon realized that there was no waiting this thing out. There was no way we could save all those innocent people. Do you know what they did next?”
Kim nods, unable to look at the woman with the gun.
“They started sending civilians outside. Into the desert. Into the wilderness. They started sending people out on suicide missions. They gave them a gun like this. They gave them one bullet. A clear message. As clear as day. That was the first thing. And when that was proving to be too slow, an ineffective form of population control, they changed the rules. When the Oz virus first showed up here, they locked us up. They herded us into the warehouses. They locked the doors and they starved us. And when they came back, they told us to turn around. They set up machine guns. Big, monstrous machine guns.”
Kim is crying now. Her whole body is shaking.
“They opened fire. They slaughtered us. They massacred us. Thousands upon thousands of people. Workers. Hard workers. Engineers. Programmers. Maintenance crew. Shop assistants. Chefs. Farmers. Research scientists. The rich. The poor. The educated. The uneducated. If you weren’t a soldier, you didn’t get to live. If the company said you were expendable, you didn’t get to live.”
She pops a bullet in the chamber. She spins the chamber. “You were with them. You have to take responsibility.”
She places the barrel of the gun against Kim’s temple.
I lunge forward, but Sarah holds me back. She is stronger than she looks. I shouldn’t be surprised.
The men wearing black bandanas hold the others back. They are screaming through their gags.
The woman pulls the trigger.
Click.
Kim is shaking.
I look at Sarah. I plead with my eyes.
Sarah shakes her head.
“Please,” Kim says. “I wasn’t part of it.”
The woman spins the chamber of the revolver again. “Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. They came to me. I was in New Zealand.”
“I thought you said you were in Sydney?’
“I was. I got out. I made it to New Zealand. There was a quarantine facility there. They came to me. They took me. Experimented on me.”
“With what?”
“A new kind of drug. I… I don’t know how to describe it. It’s called NVX. It’s a solution, a fluid that they inject into your bloodstream, or into your muscle tissue. Or tumors. I had cancer. They found the cancer. They pumped me full of NVX. And I was cured.”