Simon Ian Childer

by Tendrils (epub)

  Thomas nodded. Now what? he wondered.

  ‘Just got an urgent message for you, sir. It’s about your wife. She’s been taken to the casualty department at the hospital in St Albans. She’s had some sort of accident . . .’

  Thomas was surprised to see Stephen Legg in the hospital waiting room. Stephen jumped up from his seat when he saw him and came over. He looked pale and shaken. 'Dr Thomas, I’m sorry. I should never have let her go on her own . . .’

  Thomas stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Stephen, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I drove Anne - I mean, Mrs Thomas - to the hospital ... I was with her when it happened . . As he spoke his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in an agitated manner.

  ‘When what happened?’ demanded Thomas.

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  i don’t know anything! All I was told was that Anne was ill. I presumed it was a delayed reaction to what happened on Monday . . .’

  Before Stephen could reply a young man in a white coat came hurrying up to them. ‘Is this the husband?’ he asked Stephen.

  ‘Yes, I’m the husband,’ said Thomas sarcastically. ‘I want to see my wife. How is she?’

  ‘She’s as well as can be expected,’ said the young man with an irritating cockiness. ‘I’m Dr Spurling. I’m treating your wife.’

  Thomas gave him a hard look. It was a case of instant dislike. Spurling was young, good-looking and spoke with an upper-class accent. Thomas had a growing temptation to hit him very hard on the nose. ‘Don’t patronize me, young man,’ said Thomas coldly. ‘I’m a doctor too. Save the patrician routine for the civilians. They might swallow it. Now I want to see my wife. Where is she?’

  A glitter of anger appeared in Spurling’s eyes. ‘I’m well aware of your profession, Doctor Thomas,’ he said. ‘But I think, as far as this situation is concerned, I am better qualified to deal with your wife’s problem. So I would suggest some professional courtesy on your part would not be amiss.’

  Thomas took a deep breath and said, ‘Stuff your professional courtesy. I’ll ask you one more time - where is my wife?’

  ‘She’s in intensive care.’

  ‘What?’ Thomas reeled back as if he’d been punched in the heart. ‘What in God’s name is the matter with her?’ ‘Calm down, Dr Thomas,’ said Spurling. ‘I’m sure it will be only a temporary measure, just until we help her overcome the immediate effects of the snake-bite . . .’ ‘Snake-bite?’ repeated Thomas. He couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly.

  ‘Yes. Your wife was bitten by an adder. A large one, by the sound of it. She’s suffering from temporary kidney failure and is on a dialysis machine but we’ve given her the anti-snake bite serum as well as large doses of Oxymetho-lone and I’m confident her life isn’t in any real danger now.'

  Wearily, Thomas said, ‘Are you saying Anne was bitten by a snakeT It was all too ridiculous to believe.

  Spurling nodded. ‘Yes. An adder . . .’

  Thomas turned to Stephen, whose expression had become even more glum. ‘Is this true? You said you were with her . . . where on earth could you have been at this time of night for my wife to have been bitten by an adder? Don’t tell me you two were rolling about naked in the woods somewhere. I could do with a good laugh.’ Stephen went a bright red. ‘It was nothing like that, Dr Thomas,’ he said in a shocked voice, it was all her idea, going up to Harpenden . . .’

  ‘What? What about Harpenden?’ demanded Thomas, suddenly grabbing Stephen by the collar.

  ‘That’s where she got bitten, sir . . . by the snake. In Harpenden.’

  ‘Oh God,’ whispered Thomas. He could feel the foundations of his life starting to crumble beneath him.

  9

  One look at Anne was all he needed. It was enough to drive the last remnants of hope from him. She lay on the bed like a wax dummy. The only signs of life came from i he various machines surrounding her.

  A nurse standing beside the bed said worriedly to Spurling, ‘We’ve got a drop in blood pressure, doctor.’ ‘Really?’ he said unconcernedly as he went over to the monitor screens to look.

  Thomas, meanwhile, just stood there staring at Anne. The despair he felt was almost unbearable. He remembered the last time he’d seen her, only a few short hours ago. He remembered the tears he’d seen in her eyes - the tears he’d put there with his final, cruel jibe, i’m sorry, darling,’ he said softly even though he knew it was too late. Much too late.

  Then he went and lifted the sheet from her feet. It didn’t take him long to find the puncture mark on her right calf. It was immediately familiar.

  Spurling joined him. ‘See,’ he said, ‘that’s where the adder bit her.’

  ‘If it had been a snake there’d be two punctures,’ said Thomas listlessly. ‘Not just the one large one.’

  ‘Ah, but there’s always tissue destruction in the vicinity of a snake bite,’ said Spurling. ‘Venom contains a powerful digestive agent as well as the toxins.’

  ‘True,’ agreed Thomas. ‘But an adder isn’t one of the really venomous snakes, like a cobra or a rattlesnake. No adder could make a bite like this . . .’

  ‘Then what possible explanation could there be for the puncture?’ demanded Spurling.

  ‘She’s been poisoned by some unknown substance injected into her by some kind of previously unknown organism. There’s nothing you can do for her,’ answered Thomas wearily.

  Spurling gave him a look of astonishment. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  Before he could reply the nurse said urgently, ‘Blood pressure is dropping even faster, doctor!’

  Frowning, Spurling went back to the monitor screens. ‘I don’t understand . . .’ he muttered.

  ‘How long has the abdomen been distended in that way?’ asked Thomas. There was an air of hopelessness in the way he spoke.

  ‘What?’ said Spurling distractedly.

  Thomas pointed at Anne. ‘She’s having a massive internal haemorrhage and the blood is building up in her abdominal cavity. That’s the reason for the sudden drop in blood pressure. There’s nothing you can do.’

  Spurling’s mouth dropped open as he realized Thomas was right. ‘I can operate . . .’ he began uncertainly.

  One of the machines started to emit a persistent beeping noise. ‘Her heart’s stopped!’ announced the nurse.

  Thomas waited quietly in a corner of the room while they tried vainly to restart her heart. When they finally gave up he stepped forward and said to Spurling, ‘I want her body.’

  Spurling, looking as if he considered Anne’s death to be a personal insult, said, ‘Yes, of course you do, but first there’ll have to be an autopsy . . .’

  ‘You don’t understand. I want her body now. I’ll be arranging to have it transported to my laboratory at Colindale right away. The sooner I perform the autopsy the better.’

  ‘You’re going to do the autopsy?’ Spurling looked appalled. ‘But she’s your wife! I couldn’t possibly allow it!’

  Thomas sighed and said, ‘I don’t have the time to explain but I will tell you that you’re in no position to illow anything. I’m invoking my full powers under the Public Health Act of 1948, Sub-section 4, Paragraph 3A Thomas took out his wallet and produced his CPHL identification, if you obstruct me I’ll see that the only job you'll ever get again in the medical profession is selling aspirin in your local branch of Boots. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make a phone call . . .’ Without another glance at Anne he turned and strode out of the room.

  After making his call to the lab he returned to the waiting room. ‘Stephen, I want to talk to you,’ he said.

  Stephen jumped to his feet and said anxiously, ‘How is she, Doctor Thomas?’

  ‘Anne is dead,’ said Thomas curtly. ‘Now listen to me, this is important . . .’

  ‘Dead?’ Stephen’s face went white. ‘No!’

  Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. I said listen to me! I have to know exactly what happene
d! It’s very important! Give me every detail!’ Haltingly, and on the verge of tears, Stephen described how Anne had returned to the car and told him she’d been bitten on the back of her leg by some kind of snake.

  ‘Did she say how she’d got free of it?’ demanded Thomas. According to the few eye-witness reports in Harpenden once the things attached themselves to a victim they were impossible to remove.

  Stephen turned and pointed to a camera he’d left on the seat. Thomas recognized it as Anne’s Nikon. ‘She said the flash from the camera scared it off. It disappeared down a sewer. Is she really dead, Dr Thomas?’

  Ignoring the question, Thomas went and picked up the camera. He considered it thoughtfully. There was a chance Anne had got a shot of one of the things on film. That would be useful . . .

  For a second his self-control wavered and he was almost overwhelmed by a battering ram of grief, but with a considerable effort he rebuilt his defences, sealing off the pain in a corner of his mind. He couldn’t let go yet. Not until he’d finished what he had to do.

  Anne lay naked on the harsh, stainless steel autopsy table. Thomas picked up the scalpel and without even a moment’s hesitation incised the skin firmly in a line that stretched from the base of the throat to the pubis. He had already decided to examine her abdominal organs first, so he then sliced through the peritoneum and exposed her intestines.

  As he’d expected, the abdominal cavity was awash with blood. He used a suction tube to remove it and then examined the intestines more closely. They were swollen, inflamed and perforated in several places. It was as if they’d been soaked in a powerful corrosive.

  The stomach and the spleen were similarly affected. He slid his hand in the belly up under the ribs on the right and felt her liver. Both lobes were brittle.

  At that point something made him withdraw his gloved hand and look at it. He saw that the rubber was mottled.

  He hurriedly, but carefully, peeled off the gloves, washed his hands and donned a new pair. Then, as a precaution, he put on an extra pair.

  He went back to work. When he’d removed sections of her intestines, stomach, spleen and liver for analysis he then opened up her chest. To do this he first dissected away the tissues beneath the breast bone and then used a smal circular saw to cut through the bone. When the bone was split open he inserted a retractor and cranked its handle. The chest bone was quickly prised apart and with it the attached ribs . . . Anne’s chest opened up like some hideous bloom.

  A trickle of sweat ran down Thomas’s forehead but he didn’t dare wipe it away with his hand. He peered into i lie chest cavity and saw the same signs of drastic tissue damage that he’d seen in the abdomen. He sighed and began to cut away a section of a ruined lung . . .

  ‘Clive, are you alright?’

  He looked up from the microscope with a start of surprise. Lisa was standing there, a concerned expression on her face. He hadn’t heard her come into the lab. He Irowned at her and said, ‘What are you doing here at this lime of the night?’

  ‘Night? Clive, it’s nearly 9 o’clock in the morning. How long have you been here? You look awful . . .’

  ‘It’s morning . . .?’ He glanced at his watch and saw she was right. Suddenly he became aware of a cramp in (he back of his neck. He sat up straight and massaged it.

  ‘Clive, I heard about Anne - I don’t know what to say,’ said Lisa awkwardly.

  He held up a hand. ‘Please, I’d prefer it if you didn’t say anything. Okay?’

  She nodded, relieved. ‘I understand.’ Then she said, i’ll get you a cup of coffee. You look as if you could use one.’

  Realizing he was thirsty he said yes. She hurried out of the room as if happy for the excuse to leave him. She probably was, he told himself.

  He started to check his notes again. The analysis was almost complete . . .

  The sound of the door opening made him look up again. But it wasn’t Lisa back already. It was Henry Mitchell. He stood in' the doorway, his eyes meeting Thomas’s only briefly before sliding away in embarrassment. ‘Uh, Clive . . .’ he began, and stopped. His whole overweight body seemed to be writhing with discomfort.

  Thomas sighed and said, i’ve just been through all this with Lisa. I don’t want to talk about Anne. Please.’

  Mitchell bobbed his head in eager agreement then waddled forward, still avoiding eye contact. He perched his bulk on the side of a bench and said reluctantly, ‘I was told you . . . uh . . . performed the autopsy yourself, Clive.’ It was obvious he disapproved.

  ‘Yes,’ said Thomas calmly. ‘Speed was of the essence. The deterioration process was still continuing. Is still continuing, in fact.’

  ‘And, uh . . . what did you find out?’ Mitchell spoke as if each word was like a tooth he was self-extracting.

  Thomas picked up his notes. ‘I found the same protein that I found before in the other victims. Only in this case it was still active. Like I suspected, it’s a kind of enzyme, but different from any I’ve ever encountered before . . .’ He gave a bleak smile. ‘In a way that fool of a doctor in St Albans was right. She had been injected with a form of venom but it wasn’t snake venom . . .’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘This enzyme is an incredibly powerful digestive agent. But it isn’t a specialized one. It breaks down everything, carbohydrates, lipids, proteins . . . the lot.’

  ‘A universal enzyme?’ exclaimed Mitchell. ‘But that’s impossible!’

  Thomas shrugged. ‘Sorry, but that’s what it looks like to me, but don’t ask me how it works. Somehow these worms produce an enzyme that reduces the entire contents of a human body to a mulch of amino acids which is then quickly extracted by the worms by some unknown means. I’ve found traces of other unidentifiable compounds as well. Obviously one of them is responsible for the mineralization process that the skin of the victims undergoes, but again don’t ask me how that works, or why.’

  Mitchell said despairingly, ‘But don’t you know yet what these worms are?’

  ‘Sorry, Henry. I can’t match any of this up with any known metabolic process.’

  ‘So we’re still no nearer to identifying these organisms,’ groaned Mitchell.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. I’m beginning to lean towards Lisa’s theory. They’re mutations of some kind, perhaps of ordinary, common garden earthworms. But whatever they are they are highly dangerous. Anne only received a tiny amount of the digestive agent but it was sufficient to cause cellular breakdown throughout her body. When the things are able to inject the full amount - as they did with their other victims in Harpenden - the process of dissolution and absorption is horrifyingly swift . . .’

  Just then Lisa returned with the coffee. She was followed by one of the night security men who was carrying a brown envelope. ‘Got your photographs, Dr Thomas,’ he said, handing him the envelope. ‘Used up a few favours with a mate of mine at the police college round the corner. Told him how important you said it was but he wants to know what’s so special about a roll of holiday snaps . . .’

  Thomas tore open the envelope and winced. The top photograph showed Anne wearing her blue summer frock and smiling at the camera. She was standing in front of one of the Roman ruins at Bath. He remembered taking that photograph three weekends ago. She’d always been very interested in Roman Britain and visiting Roman ruins was one of her chief pleasures . . . had been.

  Steeling himself, he quickly sorted through the other photographs, trying to ignore the memories they provoked, until he found the one he was looking for.

  It wasn’t a good photograph. All it showed was a patch of ground crudely illuminated by the glare of a flash. There was the toe of a woman’s shoe at the bottom right hand corner but what caught Thomas’s attention was the long, black shape near the top of the photograph. It glistened obscenely . . .

  Thomas stared hard at it. It was like a thick thread of dark jelly loosely packed within a transparent membrane. It was unlike any worm he'd ever seen before.

 
He showed the photograph to Mitchell and Lisa. ‘There it is,’ he said tonelessly. ‘The thing that killed Anne. And the thing that’s going to kill a lot of other people unless we can stop it.’

  10

  Robin Carey didn’t get back to her St Albans flat until just after 11 p.m. that night. She’d wanted to stay on the scene outside Harpenden but she was too exhausted. She’d had no sleep the night before, having spent the lime in a futile effort to discover what was going on in Harpenden.

  After getting the tip-off from Anne Thomas she’d made some enquiries after typing up her interview and quickly discovered that there was something odd going on in the town. But by then the police road-block and news blackout had already been established and neither she nor any of her colleagues could get their hands on any definite information, despite an all-night vigil.

  The story wasn’t broken until dawn that day. By then too many people had been affected by the night’s events in Harpenden for the authorities to keep the lid on - they had no choice but to release the details. One by one the amazing facts emerged; the town had been hit by a plague of mutated worms that were highly poisonous; ninety-three people had been killed during the night along with numerous dogs and cats; cattle and sheep in adjacent farmland had also been killed ... No explanation or theory about the origin of these ‘worms’ was given apart from the reference to their being mutations.

  Robin witnessed the evacuation of the town and the arrival of teams of special army units trained for chemical warfare. They wore bulky protection suits and were sent down into the sewer system with flame-throwers and other weapons to hunt down and eradicate the worms. In other parts of the affected areas of the town large holes were excavated and chlorine gas pumped into the ground.

  She found it all very exciting but couldn’t help feeling resentful that this new story completely overshadowed her exclusive interview with Anne Thomas of the night before. Who cared about Mrs Thomas’s revelations now? The NIREX drilling site disaster had suddenly become old news.