Countdown to Extinction

by Louise Moss

  “You will continue the work when I am gone.”

  “But how? There are too many things I don’t know.”

  “I will unlock the system.” Hagan closed his eyes as if the effort of speaking had been too much. “You will know everything.”

  Gerald had never prayed, even when Margaret was sick, but now he spoke to some invisible being he hoped could help. “Let him get better, please,” he begged. He did not see how they could go on without him.

  “I have to go and explain to the others what has happened, but I will come straight back,” he said.

  “What about that force field then?” Michael asked as Gerald appeared. “He has to take it down.”

  “We will discuss this later. Hagan is unwell. He has a cold.”

  “What a sissy.”

  “The people have no immunity. It is death to them. For the time being, I must stay with him.”

  “What if you catch it? I need you, don’t leave me,” Emma said.

  He held her tight. “It’s only a cold. I’ll survive, but Hagan could die.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “We can’t risk the baby. Please, Emma, let me go to him. I need you to be strong.”

  “All this fuss over a cold,” Michael sneered.

  Gerald tried to keep the alarm out of his voice, but he was worried that Hagan had not brought out the nurse for Emma. She was scared and needed the reassurance that someone with medical knowledge was on the team, and he didn’t think he could operate the system, despite Hagan’s assurances.

  “We’ll take care of her,” Susan said.

  June stepped forward, “I will come with you.”

  Gerald was relieved to find the passageway open. He had been the only one to see the walkways that crossed the clinic courtyard a few feet above the ground before the rebuilding work started. He doubted that June could pass through a shimmering doorway.

  When June saw Hagan, eyes closed, shivering, gasping for breath, she said, “We must act fast.” She moved quickly to the laboratory, Gerald at her heels. “I must get his temperature down. It is dangerously high.” Placing a beaker on the bench, she said, “Make sure he drinks plenty of water while I search for what I need.”

  When he got back, she was pouring something from a bottle into a test tube. “I can’t know whether this is a common cold or a new virus. If it’s a mutant, we have no immunity either. You should go back.”

  “I will stay and help you.”

  “I can look after things here by myself. We should not risk both of us catching the cold and spreading it to the others.”

  “If you’re sure you’ll be all right by yourself. But we ought to do something with Zorina’s body before I go. We can’t leave her here.”

  She stirred the mixture she had made vigorously. “Do you know their death rituals?”

  “No, but if we bury her in a shallow grave, Hagan can decide what to do with her when he’s better. By the way, what are you doing there?”

  “Paracetamol to get the temperature down. You go back for shovels while I help him drink this.”

  They carried Zorina outside.

  “She wouldn’t have liked us touching her,” Gerald said, wiping his eyes. The wind was whipping up the dry, dusty ground. “I don’t think she was ever reconciled to having us around.”

  “She kept out of the way, but she did everything the Leaders asked her to. She was a good citizen.”

  They placed her gently in the hole they had dug and covered her with earth.

  June gathered up some nearby large stones and laid them in a cross formation on top of the grave. “To stop the wind exposing the body.”

  Rest in peace, Zorina, Gerald thought as they stood in silence with their heads bowed for a few moments before gathering up the shovels. “Will you be all right here alone with Hagan?”

  “Yes. If I need you, I will come and get you.”

  “I’ll call in tomorrow and see if there’s any progress.”

  Hagan wondered who would project their image into the room and why. He was certain it was a female, but Zorina would not have lifted his head gently from the bed and held a glass to his mouth until he drank the strange mixture of chemicals, or the sweet smelling liquid that reminded him of the strawberry juice Emma had once made. Then there was that strange smell in the room that entered Hagan’s nose and lungs like a sword cutting through a stone, opening them up so he could breathe, surging through his body, cleansing and cleaning and dispelling the images of destruction that had plagued him since he fell ill. He wondered if he had entered a Mirage, but had never known of one where he could not move.

  Gerald was relieved that the entrance to the corridor connecting the vault with the dome was well concealed. Susan had prevented Michael from storming the vault so far, but she might not be able to contain the man permanently. He shuddered at the thought of Hagan coming face to face with an angry Michael towering nearly two feet above him while he was in such a vulnerable position. He made a mental note to impress upon June the importance of keeping the location secret.

  Michael began firing questions when Gerald was still a few feet away. What did he say about the barrier? What would happen if the man died? How long did they have to put up with this intolerable situation?

  “Let’s go into the dining hall so I can talk to all of you,” Gerald said.

  When they had all gathered, he explained how the people from the town had marched on the clinic, killing everyone. “The barrier is for our protection,” he said.

  “I didn’t know about this. What happened?” Susan asked.

  “They were angry because they thought we had better conditions, better food than they did. They saw us as a threat to their way of life.”

  “I’m going to sort this out,” Michael said. “Who’s above Hagan? I’ll go directly to him.”

  “There’s only Hagan here.”

  “He must be in contact with others.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know who they are or where they are, or how to communicate with them.” This wasn’t entirely true, of course; he and Emma had managed to speak to Xanthippe once, but it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. There was no knowing what the leader might do to them.

  “This is intolerable,” Michael shouted. “I’m going to see the man. Ill or not, he’ll have to sort it out.” He pushed aside Susan’s gentle restraining touch and stormed out. Later, they could see him banging on the doors of the vault and, when he couldn’t get in, striding around the perimeter looking for another entrance.

  “How did you get in?” Susan asked, turning to Gerald.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

  “You’re afraid of what Michael might do, aren’t you?”

  Gerald nodded.

  “I’ll try to talk to him, but he feels trapped.”

  Little does he realise, Gerald thought, how close they were to being trapped there forever.

  Michael returned from the vault. Gerald could feel his eyes on him, following him around the garden wherever he went. It was obvious that he was waiting for him to go to the vault, so that he could follow him there. Tired of being watched, he went to his room after lunch and shut the door firmly, but when he emerged half an hour later, Michael was still outside, pacing up and down the corridor.

  “You’ve got to stop following me like this.”

  “I’ve searched the whole place and I can’t find how you got to the vault. I’m not having this…I’m going there when you do.”

  “In that case, I won’t go.”

  “I don’t believe you. As soon as my back’s turned, you’ll rush over there.” Gerald said nothing and Michael continued, “You can’t treat us like this!”

  “You are putting our lives in danger. If Hagan hears you coming, he’ll block off the entrance and no one will see him again. We won’t know what he’s doing.”

  Michael paused for a second before saying, “I’m quicker than him. He won’t be able to block it up that fa
st.”

  Gerald thought of explaining, but there was no point. Michael was not going to listen. He set off up the corridor followed by Michael, but Susan was here now. She took her husband’s arm and said, “Gerald has been here a lot longer than we have. I think we should listen to him.”

  Hagan could tell that Gerald was coming. He had almost lost his powers when he was in the grip of the virus, but now he was getting better, it felt as if he were emerging from a cocoon that had bound itself tightly round him. He could move his arms and legs, and the heavy weight on his chest had gone.

  He sat up and swung his legs slowly onto the floor. Managing to get himself upright, he stumbled across the room on legs like those of the new born calf out on the plains. Only when he reached the corridor did he see the flashing red lights that were coming from his laboratory. How long had it been since the system first sounded the alarm?

  “What is it, what’s happened?”

  Hagan saw a figure, ethereal, almost transparent, as in a projection that had malfunctioned. The figure moved and became more solid. “It’s me, June.”

  June. He could not think what the word meant.

  “You’ve been ill. Let me help you back to bed.”

  “The lights,” he croaked.

  “I went to look, but I don’t know what they mean.”

  “The Leaders. They are all dead.”

  Another figure was framed in the doorway, the red lights seeping around him giving him a pink glow. The man was speaking inside his head. Hagan, Hagan, it’s Gerald, are you all right?

  He felt the world spin before his vision cleared a little, solidifying the image into a familiar form.

  “Gerald?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Are you better?”

  “The Leaders are dead.”

  “Dead? How can they be?”

  “The sickness.”

  “But they’re robots.”

  “If they are, they are probably not the same as the robots in our time,” June said. “Remember, it is two thousand years later now. It is possible the robot’s bodies were humanoid and susceptible to the same illnesses.”

  Gerald looked solemn. “We brought the earth back to life, but we also brought back death.”

  Hagan staggered into the laboratory and sat down heavily. He had never known his head to be so painful. “No one to tell us what to do,” he stammered.

  “We can manage without the Leaders,” Gerald said. “June knows what to plant, and Michael and Susan how to look after animals—”

  “They are not Leaders.”

  “They know all we need to know to carry on with the work.”

  “He’s right,” June said. “We are used to doing things ourselves, making our own decisions.”

  “It is not possible.”

  “We will make it work,” Gerald said.

  Hagan thought of the Ancestors who had come to Earth not knowing what they would find there, but who had had the courage, the strength and the ability to adapt to make it work. A vision appeared in his mind of a city made of crystal, light reflecting from the buildings, a glorious light that surrounded everything, colours dividing and splitting.

  A woman encircled by a deep purple aura held her hands out to him. His mother. Not the human woman who had given birth to him, but his Kudlu mother, the founder of the new race. He held out his arms to her, but the vision faded and he saw was back in his laboratory with June of the red hair and Gerald, who had accompanied him on a long and difficult path.

  “Soon I will be the only one of my people left,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gerald said. “Come and stay with us. Don’t stay here by yourself.”

  Hagan shook his head, shuddering inwardly at the thought. “I do not belong with you.”

  “One of the things we were always good at was being with people who were different, who thought differently, had ideas of their own.”

  “With no one to lead us, we cannot go on,” Hagan said.

  “Let us show you. Please. We have come so far along this path we walked together.”

  June drew nearer, kneeling by his side. “It will be fine. Just trust us.” She was so near, her face was out of focus, but the brown eyes were clear, her gaze steady.

  He heard his mother’s sweet voice again. Go with Gerald. You can trust him. And the others too. Remember your heritage; join with them to create your dream. We never worked alone. That was our strength.

  As her image faded, Hagan stood up. “I will come.”

  He refused any help walking and progress was slow. As they appeared in the garden, Gerald felt Hagan tense as Michael strode towards him, waving his arms.

  “Wait here. Let me talk to him first,” Gerald said, hurrying to cut Michael off. “You must calm down. Hagan has lost everything and has put himself in our hands. It was difficult to persuade him to come because he’s used to being in control and following the orders of the Leaders. If you frighten him off, you’ll never see him again.” He took hold of Michael by the arm to steer him away. “We’ll discuss this in the dining hall with the others in a calm way.”

  Michael pulled his arm free and Gerald feared he intended to confront Hagan, but he turned and marched into the building. When they were all grouped around a table, Gerald explained what had happened.

  “At least he won’t be a prisoner, like we were,” Emma said.

  “I think he should go back to the town. There are still people there; he’d be among his own,” Susan said.

  “Hagan told me most people had died but anyway, I believe the people who live in the town are mainly workers. They’re a separate race, almost. They’ve been brought up with completely different customs and culture. He wouldn’t fit in there. And besides, he was given a job to do by the Leaders, and he will not abandon us.”

  “Not even if we want him to,” Michael said between gritted teeth.

  “But he doesn’t fit in here either, and if he stays with us, he’ll start interfering with what we’re doing,” Susan said.

  Emma’s face had clouded over. “We don’t know the Leaders are dead. That could be another trick. They’re not taking another baby away from me!”

  Gerald put his arm around her. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Michael banged his fists together. “I won’t be kept prisoner,” he hissed.

  “It’s him and his people who kept us prisoners, I don’t want to live like that again,” Emma agreed.

  Hagan watched the black cloud of hate drifting towards him. Without the strength to fully protect himself, the noise of their voices was inside his head, pounding and pummelling. He shuffled into the cloud until he stood before the people, thick red droplets shooting towards him. “The Leaders removed the barrier before they died,” he said. “You are free to go where you please.”

  The mist retreated a little, but it still weighed heavily around him.

  “I don’t trust him,” Michael said, taking hold of Susan’s hand. “Let’s go and see for ourselves.”

  Hagan made his way back to the laboratory. It was not good for him to be among these people. Nobody tried to stop him.

  17

  The purpose of getting Emma to talk about her past experiences was not, as the Primitives had been told, to make a language program. Hagan forwarded her memories on to Malchus, who was constructing a number of Mirages for the Primitives, adding messages of obedience. Hagan wasn’t sure how well it would work; they had done this before and it had controlled most of the Primitives, but Emma had realised what was happening and warned against looking at the Mirages.

  One memory in particular interested him. It had taken some time to decipher the unknown words but now he knew it off by heart.

  “I was about eight years old. We packed a big trunk and set off in Dad’s tiny car. We stayed in a wooden holiday chalet just outside the town and spent the days on the beach, building sandcastles and swimming. In the evening we bought some fish from the fishermen and cooked it when we got back home. One day we
went somewhere by car. It wasn’t very far. We climbed up some steep steps to a bit of land that jutted out into the sea. It was very quiet. You couldn’t hear the traffic. We walked along the ridge, to a fort there and I pretended I was a soldier. We went down these steep rocks to a little beach.”

  He had been taught that the Outside was a dangerous place, yet there was something peaceful about this experience. By the time he was eight, he was fully independent. He spent his days largely alone. When he wasn’t at his lessons, he was at the Mirage machine. He had a supervisor he could talk to if there was something he did not understand, but he could not imagine taking the man’s hand and going for a walk.

  There was something about Emma’s experience. He might have liked to have lived in such a time, when it was possible to walk outside without protective clothes. Instead of a bleak landscape, there had been things to see and do.

  He had learned a new word: film. Malchus had explained that the Primitives spent time watching films and recommended using this word instead of Mirage. He would tell them that a film had been made from Emma’s experiences in order to assist with the learning of the Primitive’s language. It might work.

  He was aware how horrible he looked to the Primitives. The new male was nearly twice his height and hair grew in profusion, not only on his head, but also on his chin and body. Even the female had long dark hair which grew beyond her shoulders, long eyelashes and eyebrows that formed symmetrical arches. His hair had begun to grow since the improved diet, but he despaired that he would ever look like that.

  The Primitives were all so hairy. It was the first thing he noticed about the new Primitive, June. Her thick, red hair framed her face and seemed to glow in the light. Gerald had spoken of her height disorder, but she was the same height as he was. When he had seen her on the monitors moving along to the recovery room, he had been unable to help himself. He had gone down to the revival room, where the bodies were brought out of their frozen state, and touched the hair.

  “That’s strange. Do you see Hagan over there by the alfalfa, talking to June?” Emma said as she turned over the soil in preparation for planting finger millet.

  Gerald stopped digging. “So he is. I didn’t notice. What’s strange about that?”