by Perrin Briar
“I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going on,” an old lady called Betty said. She could be more stubborn than a mule when she had a mind to be.
“It’s for your own safety,” Susan said. “You should go to our remote facility on the outskirts of town. You’ll be safer there.”
“Safer from what?” Betty said.
“We can’t tell you,” Susan said. “Not yet.”
Grumbles from the older patients.
“I know we’re asking a lot from you – from all of you,” Susan said. “But believe me, we wouldn’t be doing this unless it was absolutely necessary.”
It was only their love and trust for Susan and Richard that they nodded and allowed themselves to be put into the back of the van.
“What about my friends and family?” one of the other patients said. “They’ll be worried about me.”
“They’ll be informed of your whereabouts,” Susan said. “I promise.”
She wished it was one she would be able to keep, but it seemed the right thing to say to soothe those hesitant about getting in the van. The children got in first, then the adults. All told, there were no more than a dozen.
“Now you,” Susan said to Steve.
“What about you?” Steve said
Susan pursed her lips, unsure about how much to tell him. She wanted him to leave, to be safe.
“We’re making a cure,” she said, lowering her voice. “Or, Archie is. But it takes time, and we need to be ready to transmit the data to the rest of the world so others can replicate it.”
“How long does the robot need?” Steve said.
“Eight hours,” Susan said.
“There’s no way to make it go faster?” Steve said.
Susan shook her head.
“Archie’s the only machine that can do this,” she said.
Steve ran a hand over his shaved head.
“Okay,” he said.
“Good,” Susan said, gesturing toward the van.
“No, I mean, okay, I’ll stay,” Steve said.
“What?” Susan said. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“Loud and clear,” Steve said. “I lost an arm, not an ear. You said you need to wait for your robot to build a cure that you can use, right? You said you need to wait eight hours. The infected, whatever they’re infected with, aren’t going to knock politely and ask to enter. You’re going to have to defend the building and stop them from entering. And if you didn’t notice, you’re part of the hospital. Where do you think all those people who get hurt and injured are going to end up going?
“You gave me back my life. Let me at least try to protect yours. Besides, how bad can these ‘infected’ be really?”
Susan felt cold as the realization dawned on her. The hospital was going to be the most dangerous place in the city. Before long there would be a line of people showing up at the hospital. They would be scratched and infected, and eventually, however long it took, they would turn. It was a bloodbath waiting to happen. And where were they going to be? Right next door.
They were never going to last eight hours defending the cure without protection. Steve and his men were their only real chance of survival.
“What do you suggest we do?” Susan said.
“We shut the building down, make it look like no one’s home,” Steve said. “We defend each floor, one at a time, keeping them from getting to the top.”
“You make it sound like we’re in a warzone,” Susan said.
“That’s exactly what this is,” Steve said. “Or soon will be.”
Susan nodded, though the full impact of what Steve was saying hadn’t really sunk in yet.
“Is that everyone?” Phil’s friend with the Mohawk said.
Steve turned to Oaks and Taylor, who gave him a small nod.
“That’s everyone,” Steve said.
Phil’s friends shut the van doors.
“Wait,” Richard said.
He turned to Susan.
“You should go too,” Richard said.
“What?” Susan said. “Why?”
“Because there’s no need for all of us to stay here,” Richard said. “Only one of us needs to be here. You should go, be safe, with the others.”
Susan was taken aback by this sudden display of affection. It wasn’t in Richard’s nature to be so outspoken when it came to his emotions. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“No,” Susan said. “I’m staying. But you can go.”
Richard shook his head. He put his hands on Susan’s shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.
“There’s no reason for you to put yourself in danger,” he said. “Not now. Drop by home and take Amy with you.”
There was a time when Susan would have done anything Richard said when he looked at her like that. But no longer.
“I don’t care,” Susan said, breaking his embrace. “I’m staying.”
Phil raised his hand.
“Uh, I can do it,” he said. “You can both go. I’ll handle it.”
Susan smiled. Phil often flew off the handle, a slave to his emotions, and sometimes didn’t follow orders, either through forgetfulness, or doing what he thought was morally right. He was not the type of person to be left alone in a position of responsibility. But yet here he was, willing to sacrifice himself for them.
“Thank you, Phil,” Susan said. “But if one of us gets injured then there still needs to be someone here to upload the information into the cloud.”
Phil nodded, in disappointment, Susan thought.
Phil’s friend climbed into the front seats.
“Good luck, guys,” Phil said.
He shook the driver’s hand through the open window. Susan pretended not to see the small bag he surreptitiously handed over.
Susan felt like she was giving her patients to terrorists. But she knew it was for the best, and waved as the van pulled onto the road that ran in front of the hospital, weaving through the traffic. The road was already beginning to get congested.
“What about the comatose patients?” Richard said. “They’re still up on the fourth floor.”
“Which is where they’ll stay,” Susan said. “They won’t last long outside the facility without power.”
“But we have power,” Richard said.
“We do right now,” Steve said. “But there’s no telling how long that will last.”
Susan turned to those assembled. Three scientists and three injured soldiers with no weapons. This was what the last hope of the human race looked like.
God help us all.
Z-MINUS: 6 hours 16 minutes
The soldiers acted fast. They began by barricading themselves inside, first by locking all the doors, and then nailing boards up over the windows. They pushed furniture against the main entrance, flipping them over onto their sides so the tabletops were pressed flush against the walls.
Richard picked up a heavy chair and placed it atop a stack.
“Is Amy safe?” he said.
Susan gave him a look. She knew he didn’t really care.
“Where is she?” Richard said.
“What do you care?” Susan said, pushing past him.
“She’s my daughter,” Richard said.
“Is she?” Susan said. “You weren’t so sure of that two years ago.”
Richard’s eyes scrubbed Susan’s face for something he evidently couldn’t find. He nodded and continued to pile furniture.
Bringing up taboos were no longer a big deal, not when you had a problem of this magnitude on your hands.
After half an hour they were exhausted. The first floor of the facility was empty, messy with scattered papers. They smashed the vending machines in the canteen and piled the food on the second floor in case they needed to relocate quickly.
The soldiers, even with their replacement arms and legs fastened in place, didn’t shirk their share of the work. They gathered around Steve in the front lobby.
Steve wiped an arm across
his forehead, leaving his hair plastered to his skin.
“That’s the doors and windows blocked,” he said. “With any luck they’ll wander straight past and won’t bother us.”
“What about the lifts?” Phil said. “What if they figure out a way to ride them?”
“Good thinking,” Steve said. “We’ll need to disable them. Taylor?”
Taylor was short, but tough, the way the marines bred them. She took off, limping under the weight of her replacement leg.
“Does anyone else have any suggestions?” Steve said.
“What about ammo?” Oaks said. “These groovy robot arm weapons of ours are pretty cool, but they’re not going to be much more use against the infected than a butter knife.”
“We need real weapons,” Phil said. “Something that can do real harm.”
“I’ve got a friend,” Steve said. “We served together in Afghanistan. You remember him, Oaks?”
Oaks shook his head. It was a discouraging sign.
“Old Starky,” he said.
“Starky?” Susan said. “Why do you call him that?”
“You’ll find out when you meet him,” Steve said.
“A gun nut,” Oaks said.
“But a competent one,” Steve said. “Not much of a team player, I admit, but he lives near here and he’ll have a ton of guns in his home.”
“His ranch, probably,” Oaks said under his breath.
“I could call him and get him to bring as many of his weapons down here as he can,” Steve said.
“Would he do that?” Oaks said.
“He might,” Steve said. “If I told him it was a secret mission. He’s crazy enough.”
“Is he safe?” Susan said.
“Is anybody?” Steve said. “In a world like the one we’ve got now he’s exactly the kind of person we need.”
Susan nodded.
“Call him,” she said, fishing her cell out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.
Dooooo-ooooo. Dooooo-ooooo.
A siren wailed from a high to low tone, like something from the Second World War in Europe. It covered the city in terror.
“Heads up, lads,” Steve said. “They’re coming.”
“Who?” Oaks said.
“Them,” Steve said.
Z-MINUS: 5 hours 54 minutes
Boom.
An explosion, somewhere in the distance.
Boom. Boom.
A syncopated rhythm, offbeat and deadly. The ground shook beneath their feet. There was a hiss, a roar, and then a smack of an explosion. And then another, and another.
“What is that?” Susan said.
“The military,” Steve said. “With Fort Bragg not far away, they’ll be trying to clear the infected in their vicinity before heading farther out.”
Bright bulbous explosions rose like newborn suns on the other side of town.
“They’re just killing them?” Susan said.
She couldn’t control her shock.
“No doubt they think it’s the only thing they can do,” Steve said.
“I thought they were trying to hold them back?” Susan said. “By barricading the cities?”
“It must have failed,” Steve said. “When you’re injured you cut the dead flesh so the infection doesn’t spread. Let’s just hope they have the sense not to bomb us.”
“Can’t you call them?” Susan said. “Let them know we’re here? Tell them what we’re doing?”
“They won’t listen to me,” Steve said. “They’ve got other things to worry about now.”
“But we’re working on a cure,” Susan said. “They could come here, help defend us.”
Steve shook his head.
“They’re concentrating on wide sweeps,” he said. “They won’t be interested in defending a single location. The best thing we can do is keep our heads down and wait till this cure of yours is complete. Then we can go to them with what we have. Until then, we’re the same as everyone else out there. Worse, we’re already injured. They won’t want to rescue us.”
Susan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Steve and the others were ex-military. They had been willing to sacrifice their lives for the benefit of the country, had sacrificed their bodies to prove it, and the military wouldn’t come help them?
“Richard was talking to someone…” Susan said. “A Major… What was it, now? Major Edwards? He was interested in what we were doing here. He would listen to us.”
“He might,” Steve said. “And if he did know about you, why isn’t he here already? He would be, if the fate of the world rested on your robot and his cure. Believe me, I wish they were on their way, wish they would defend us with everything they’ve got, but there’s no use hoping on pipe dreams.”
Susan shook her head. She couldn’t believe her life’s work wouldn’t have been taken seriously by the army, the military, by anyone.
“Did I ever tell you how I came to lose my arm?” Steve said.
Susan had read Steve’s file. She’d read every patient’s, but there were often pages missing, stamped ‘confidential’ with blood red ink across them. She never knew the full story, the true context of what had happened. She shook her head.
“I was stationed in Afghanistan with my team,” Steve said. “We were waiting for an important package to arrive. It was a fairly standard mission. Get in, get out. Nothing complicated. Nothing should have gone wrong. And that was the problem. We weren’t as alert as we should have been.”
His eyes turned distant with the memory of it, imagining himself there at that very moment. With the background noise of the explosions in the city, it felt even more real to Susan.
“We were hit with mortar shells,” Steve said. “We didn’t know where they’d come from. We couldn’t see their position. We picked up our injured and pulled back as far as we could, but then, freaky bad luck, they struck us again. I can remember the whistle and roar of the grenades now, and then the deafening dull boom of the explosions, the white flash as they blind you. Your ears ring and your body gets thrown a dozen yards. I remember thinking I was going to die, that this was the end. It probably should have been.
“The next thing I remember, I was in hospital. My body was bandaged, half my arm missing. It turned out it had been our own side that fired on us. It wasn’t their fault. I don’t blame them. But I do blame those in charge. A simple miscommunication had resulted in the death of three of my team and four others with lost limbs. They were meant to be on our side. They were meant to protect us. We were meant to be brothers in arms. Instead, they had been our enemies.
“I heard the lads on the other team were pretty beat up about what happened. I went to see them, explained I didn’t blame them, that none of my team did, and none of them ever would. If the situation had been different, if it had been us firing on them, the exact same thing would have happened. I learnt an important lesson that day. It wasn’t new, but more of a confirmation of what we all already knew. We joked about it sometimes, but there was always an element of ugly truth underneath it: that we can’t trust those in charge.
“They might be honorable, might be great men and women, but they aren’t on the ground with us, can’t know whether the information given to them is right or wrong, and until they see everything for themselves with their own eyes instead of from the protection of their bunkers, they never can. And when push comes to shove, and they have the opportunity to kill a hundred targets and sacrifice one of us, their own, what do you think they’d choose? If not a hundred, then how about a thousand? Ten thousand? Every soldier’s life has a price tag. It’s usually not even that high.
“That’s why we’re better off waiting here, hoping they’ll forget about us because you never know when a miscommunication might happen, and then we’re up shit creek without a paddle. That’s why we have to hold out as long as we can while we’re here. It’s our best play.”
The words coming out of Steve’s mouth were hard-fought, difficult to process, and even harder to ad
mit out loud.
“Oaks and Taylor,” Steve said. “They were affected by the same kind of accident I was. We talk, sometimes, because we’re not meant to talk about these things with civilians. We understand each other, the neglect and betrayal we suffered. There’s a level of loyalty that we give to command that we never get in return.”
The pops and explosions continued, like a backing track, on the other side of the city. Occasionally one happened close to them. The glass in the window frames shook. None of the soldiers took any notice, their training already taking over. They were in war mode. It was not something Susan had had much experience with, despite hanging out with soldiers for the past ten years. She felt closed-off, like this was something they all had in common, part of an exclusive club, and she wasn’t a member. Her job was to oversee the science, that was all.
The glass in the window panes rattled as a helicopter passed overhead, the flashing light on its underside joining a dozen others in a rough circle. They hovered there, pausing for a second before unleashing their missiles.
They scorched toward an unseen target somewhere on the ground. Whatever it was, it wasn’t firing back. The roars and explosions drummed the earth, loud and deafening.
“Can you believe this shit?” Phil said.
Susan shook her head. It didn’t feel real. A war was taking place on the same streets she cycled down, the same streets she went shopping in.
“It’s like a movie set,” Phil said.
The city turned silent, walls of dirty grey smoke rising like a giant wall. The helicopters banked and peeled away.
“Did we win?” Phil said. “Did we get them all? Is it over?”
No one answered him. No one dared raise their hopes.
Z-MINUS: 5 hours 37 minutes
The soldiers ran whetstones over their blades’ edges, shaving off the protective film. They were arming up. Things were going to get ugly.
“They should call their friends and family,” Susan said to Richard. “It’s the least we can give them. Some hope their loved ones are okay.”