The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Failure. I get it,” said Greg. “So do any of you have any ideas how to proceed?”

  “Yes,” said Button. “We spend our times on projects with a future. You need to understand that in regards to WC-00 we are nothing more than glorified hospice nurses. No one has ever been able to make sense of him and, when he is dead, we should all just be grateful that the only known source of the Welshchild disease will die with him.”

  “What about his improved immune system? Has anyone come close to replicating it?”

  Wilson shook her head. “We don’t even understand it, let alone have any chance of replicating it. His white blood count is the same as anybody else’s. We can’t explain how he fights off infection. Previous Doctors have theorised that the Welshchild virus is hostile to other pathogens. It may be what fights off the illness.”

  Greg scratched his chin and stretched out his legs. He was feeling tired, but he was too excited to retire to his apartment. “This man is amazing. If only we could unlock his secrets.”

  “Just forget about it,” said Dr Button. “He’s a lost cause to all but those who created him.”

  Greg stood up and towered over his team. “Now listen here, Dr Button. I am in charge here. I will decide whether or not something is a lost cause. I want all three of your working on WC-00 for the foreseeable future. All other projects on hold.”

  Wilson objected. “Do you know how close this lab is to curing Malaria, HIV, even cancer? You want us to just…stop?”

  “Do you not understand?” Greg shouted. “If we understand this man’s immune system, there will be no need for a cure to malaria, or anything else for that matter. We will be the saviour of millions of people, billions for the years to come. This has to be our priority. Welsh Child Zero Zero is the key to a new, wonderful future for mankind.”

  Greg’s team shifted in their seats and looked at him anxiously. They seemed unhappy at his request, but also a little buoyed by his enthusiasm.

  Greg smiled at them all in turn. “We can be heroes,” he said. “Heroes.”

  Days later and Greg was ready to get started. The planning stages were complete and it was time to start performing tests.

  “There’s no reason to go in there,” Dr Button told Greg. “We have more tissue samples then we will ever need.”

  Greg pulled the positive pressure suit over his body from the feet upwards and started to fasten the seals. Dr Wilson helped him attach the gloves to the suit and lock the bracelets. “We’re starting from scratch, Dr Button. I want fresh samples so I know that we are working with pure and up-to-date results. We shouldn’t take anything for granted concerning this man.”

  Dr Button handed him the suit’s helmet. “Fine. Just be quick and just be careful. Wilson and Fenton are both on lunch break. If something happens there’s only me to help you.”

  Before Greg put the helmet on, he frowned at the doctor. “Careful?”

  “Yes. It’s been a while since anybody went inside, so be prepared. We don’t know for sure how Welsh will react.”

  Greg fastened a utility belt around his waist and plugged it into the suit’s input jack. “I can handle it,” he said into the helmet’s speaker.

  Dr Button checked Greg’s suit as he turned a full circle, checking for tears. When he was satisfied, they inflated the suite and Greg turned around, clomping towards the WC-00 airlock.

  A vinyl tunnel had been erected inside to allow uncompromised entry into the glass cell. Welsh sat in the middle of the room, expectantly. Greg stopped in the tunnel midway and waited for the chemical shower to douse him. Once that was done, he proceeded to the glass cell. There was a key pad ahead and he quickly activated it. The door unlocked and slid sideways with a hiss.

  He stepped inside.

  Welsh observed him quietly, almost seeming uninterested.

  “Dr Penn. How lovely for you to visit.”

  Greg laughed. “Less of the Hannibal Lector act. I’m here to help you.”

  Welsh looked confused. “Hannibal Hector?”

  “Never mind. How are you feeling?”

  “I can’t get sick. I feel fine, as always.”

  “I meant in yourself, emotionally? Are you still feeling…resentful?”

  “I do not resent,” Welsh said. “I just hold people responsible for their actions.”

  Greg decided to ignore the evasive answers and just get on with things. He wasn’t sure if Welsh even had the capacity to share on an emotional level. “I would like to take some tissue samples from you, if that is okay?”

  “By all means. Did something happen to the other thousand samples that you already have?”

  Greg opened up a pouch on his right arm and plucked out a syringe. “I’d just like to start fresh. It would ease my mind knowing that I have the very best samples available to me.”

  “So that you can use me to cure the world?”

  Greg nodded. It was a clunky movement inside the helmet. “You are an amazing specimen, Welsh. You could be the key to a new future. A world without sickness and disease.”

  Welsh turned to the television and sighed. “And my reward for that is a lifetime of incarceration.”

  “If this works, you would be able to leave.”

  “I don’t think so. By the time you even came close to understanding me, I would be an old old man. Many scientists have worked on me before you, Dr Penn. Better, smarter scientists.”

  The comment irritated Greg but he would not allow it to distract him. Whether Welsh believed it or not, he was trying to do good. The fact that success would effectively make him the saviour of the world was just a hefty bonus.

  Welsh sat still while Greg took his blood. He placed the full syringe into an airtight rubber seal, which he then placed back into the pouch on his arm. Saliva swabs and even ear wax samples followed. Greg also took some of Welsh’s hair and fingernail clipping.

  Greg glanced at the television and saw that the news was on as usual. Riots in the Middle East were raging. He wondered if the region would finally find peace one day, and if maybe one day his work would help towards it.

  Would people still fight in a world without disease?

  With his first round of tests all complete, Greg prepared to leave the cell. Before he did, however, Welsh reached out and grabbed his wrist.

  Greg looked down at Welsh’s fingers around his arm and frowned. “What are you doing? Please let go of me.”

  Welsh looked him in the eye. “I just wanted to say thank you. I understand that you want to help.”

  Greg smiled. “I told you that one day you would thank me.”

  Welsh grinned right back. “And I told you that one day you would beg me.”

  Greg’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry?”

  “You really should be more careful.” He pointed at Greg’s elbow.

  Greg’s eyes went so wide he thought they might fall out of their sockets. His heart pulsed and his lungs went stiff.

  No, no, no….

  The tear on the left elbow of his suit was minute. But it was there. He was compromised. The positive air pressure might be enough to save him, but…

  “I…I…”

  Welsh laughed. “How very unfortunate. You had such high hopes.”

  Greg staggered backwards and was surprised when somebody caught him. It was Dr Button. He was not wearing a suit at all.

  “Button! Are you insane? Why the hell are you in here without a suit? We need to quarantine this whole level. I…I may be infected.”

  “Oh believe me, you are,” said Dr Button. “You have no idea how contagious this disease is. A thimbleful is enough to infect a billion people. It truly is remarkable.”

  “Wh…what are you babbling about? We’re going to die. We have to make sure nobody else does. You’re insane exposing yourself like this.”

  Dr Button just laughed. “Don’t worry, I was exposed a long time ago. I’m immune, Dr Penn. We all are.”

  Greg was struggling to breathe. The panic was
like nothing he had ever felt before. He needed to get the hell out of the cell, away from the virus, but he couldn’t. He could have the disease. “What do you mean, you all are?”

  “The people I work for. The people who tried to release this virus to the world more than thirty years ago. We have been preparing. Billions will die, but we will go on. The world will be rebuilt. The world will be better. We are ready to see that change. It’s been a long wait, but now it is finally here.”

  “You’re insane. Fucking insane! Where are Wilson and Fenton?”

  “I already told you,” said Dr Button. “They’re taking their break. Although, I think they may have eaten something that didn’t agree with them. I’d imagine they’re in quite an amount of discomfort right now. It won’t last long, though, so don’t worry. They will be dead long before the virus eats their flesh. They are the lucky ones.”

  Greg lashed out, went to grab a hold of Dr Button’s neck. But Welsh leapt up and grabbed him in a chokehold. Greg grunted and heaved as his throat was restricted. “Pl….please. Don’t do this. Don’t…please.”

  “Sounds like begging to me,” Welsh whispered in his ear.

  Dr Button shook his head pitifully as Greg began to fade. “You wanted so much to make the world better. Well, don’t worry; you will have your wish granted. You just won’t be around to see it.”

  Greg struggled with his last ounces of strength. “You’ll never get out of here. They’ll…stop you…”

  Dr Button just smiled. “Once I release the virus into the entire facility, all I will have to do is wait a while. Welsh and I will walk right out of here. Then our true work begins. Of course I will disable all outgoing communications first. Wouldn’t want the world getting warning.”

  Greg’s vision was growing dark. The blood vessels in his forehead felt like they might pop. “Why…are…you…doing…this?”

  Button opened his arms wide, like he was a preacher on a pedestal. “Because, Dr Penn, we…are…plague.”

  Forty-eight hours later and everybody was dead. Welsh and Button walked right on out of the facility and got into a car waiting for them nearby. Welsh wanted to see London first.

  THE PEELING: BOOK 5

  THE LIGHTS

  The camp had been free of infection for almost two weeks, but the lights in the sky were making everybody nervous. The blinking green orbs had appeared only days before and had been hanging in the sky every time night fell. Every day when dusk approached, the members of the camp would wait with bated breath to see if the lights would still be there. Every evening it would become clear that the lights were not going away. If anything, they seemed to be getting closer – lower in the sky.

  Gretchen looked out from her perch atop the roof of the ambulance and surveyed the rest of the camp. She and nineteen other survivors had gathered together inside a roadside hotel. The adjacent restaurant had provided them with some food supplies and ample amounts of beer and soft drinks. The hotel itself was newly constructed and gave them all the safety of communal living while also providing everyone with the privacy of their own room. They had blocked up the road to the hotel and kept a constant vigil for any other survivors that may have been lurking in the nearby area.

  While Gretchen’s group were not against welcoming other survivors, there was still the risk of infection. While The Peeling seemed to have abated somewhat, with new infections becoming more and more rare, there was still the old fashioned illnesses of influenza, dysentery, and pleurisy – and more importantly, there were no longer any doctors to treat them. While the movies always made sure that the group of desperate survivors had a medic amongst them, Gretchen’s group had nothing of the sort. The members of the camp ranged from salesmen and factory workers to a professional dog walker – nobody who knew how to treat an illness.

  Pritchett called up to Gretchen and told her that her turn to keep watch was over. He also had a piping hot cup of soup waiting for her. Gretchen hopped down off the ambulance and took the mug from the man.

  He smiled at her warmly. “Everything A-okay?”

  Gretchen nodded. “Haven’t seen a thing. It’s starting to get bloody cold though. We’re going to have to find a way to keep ourselves warm once winter gets here.”

  Pritchett nodded. “I guess we could gather up all the spare duvets.”

  Gretchen nodded. “We’ll work on it tomorrow.”

  She walked away, heading away from the roadside and back towards the restaurant where most of the group tended to congregate during the evening. Pritchett would keep watch for the next six hours, but other than him, nobody else would be busy.

  As she suspected, almost every member of camp was situated in the eatery. Pendle and Groves had started a fire in a barrel in the centre of the room and had set up a couple of sea bass fillets on a makeshift spit. The smell of the fish made Gretchen’s mouth water.

  To prevent smoke, the group had opened up a skylight in the restaurant that seemed to do a good job of keeping the air circulating. Maybe in the winter they could set up more fires inside the buildings.

  “Hey, Grets,” said Pendle. He was a handsome young man with tanned skin passed down from his Spanish mother. His dark hair had grown out in recent weeks and the heat of the fire made beads of sweat form on the tips of his fringe.

  “Hey, Pendle. Smells good. I’m surprised we still have fish that is good to eat.”

  “Groves smoked most of the meat and fish early on. We’re just making a start on it all. The frozen sausages and burgers have all run out and the fries are running low. We’re going to have to go out and start searching for canned food soon.”

  Gretchen nodded. “I’ll start putting together a plan. There’s a supermarket nearby. Hopefully it wasn’t completely stripped clean in the early days.”

  Pendle sighed. They all remembered the early days. The chaotic time where rape and murder went unopposed and neighbours robbed one another with impunity. During the first tumultuous weeks of the infection, anarchy claimed as many lives as The Peeling itself. The Army had been called in to control the situation but, once the government fell, they soon became nothing more than a roving band of bullies, taking other people’s supplies at gun point. Then, even the Army seemed to disappear and disband.

  In the final few weeks, survivors had become more and more of a rarity. It had been several days since Gretchen’s camp had accepted anybody new – a guy name Logan was the last, a man who claimed to have been a Physics teacher. They took him in for his expertise, but so far he had done nothing but keep to himself.

  The survivors had all remained safe and well fed at the hotel since they’d gathered there four weeks ago, but a time was quickly coming where they would have to venture back out into the world – where rotting flesh lined the street and legions of rats tore holes in everything in sight. Gretchen shuddered at the thought.

  She shuddered even more when she thought of her own family lying out there someplace.

  When The Peeling had hit, Gretchen’s husband had caught it almost right away. He had come home with a flu that quickly became a burning, tingling sensation all over his body. Then a scrap of skin came away on his ankle. It was quickly over from that point.

  As the news report showed horrifying scenes of the flesh-eating virus, Gretchen was getting a first-hand view. Her husband was little more than a patchy skeleton by the time he died a week later. Gretchen’s mother-in-law had the children, but in the chaos that ensued during the riots and looting, something had happened to them. When Gretchen reached her mother-in-law’s home, they were all gone and there was no note. Gretchen had stayed there for days until somebody eventually set the neighbourhood on fire and forced everyone to flee. Gretchen had joined up with a roving group of ten survivors on the M4 motorway and eventually they had rested here at the hotel.

  Gretchen sipped at her soup and shivered as it warmed her cold body. What she would give to have her husband’s cuddling arms around her now. Had anybody been lucky enough to keep a hold of t
heir spouse? Or their children?

  She took a seat alone at one of the tables and looked around at her new family. Amongst the group was Shandi, an African American business women from Tulsa who had been visiting the UK for a meeting. The women knew nothing of her country back home, or the people she knew there. There was Bryan, who was perhaps their most handy member of the camp. He was a skilled carpenter and had helped them construct barricades over the windows and create makeshift weapons. Daniel was a salesman from Alcester and mostly kept to himself. Something suggested the young man was mourning on some great loss. A bubbly girl named Sally had worked at a Marks and Spencer department store in Redditch prior to the infection and was the cheeriest of the group. Her disposition seemed to be one where the glass was half full. Danny was an old factory worker from Longbridge, who had worked twenty years at the Rover car plant until the layoffs many years before. He had been working a metal press since then. There were a dozen other faces in the room, but Gretchen felt too tired to look upon them all. What she really needed was to go to bed, but she hated being alone in her cold, featureless hotel room.

  “Why don’t you just piss off,” came an angry voice from the other side of the restaurant.

  “We can’t keep burying our heads in the sand. We need to have an open discussion about this.”

  “I don’t see the point in freaking everybody out about something we don’t even understand.”

  Gretchen sighed and got up. She went over to the two camp members who were fighting. It was Colin and David. Both were mid-forties men, but while Colin wore a dirty old suit and had once worked at a bank, David had been unemployed most of his life and was generally a lazy and abrasive chap.

  “What is it?” Gretchen asked them.