Mutation (Twenty-Five Percent Book 1)

by Wheatley, Nerys

  “You could say the same about secret laboratories.”

  Micah slowly removed his hand from the handle. “So now what?”

  A minute later, they were crouching on the lawn with the hedge between them and the door, Alex holding onto a long branch which they had duct taped to the handle.

  “I’m not sure this hedge is going to provide us with much protection, in the event that the shed blows up,” Micah said.

  “Then let’s hope it doesn’t,” Alex replied.

  He tugged on the branch. The handle pulled down. The door swung open. Both men instinctively flinched.

  Nothing happened.

  “I feel really stupid now,” Micah said, standing and walking to the door.

  He untaped the branch and they walked inside.

  Metal shelving holding various gardening implements and chemicals lined the walls. A huge ride on mower that had probably cost more than Alex’s car sat in the centre of the shed. It was a typical, if extremely solid, garden storage building.

  With one exception.

  Alex returned to the door, stepped out and stared at the shed for a few seconds. Then he walked back inside.

  “It’s bigger on the outside,” he said.

  Micah did the same. “You’re right.” He walked up to the far end. “There must be a hidden door or something. Hey, what’s this?”

  He was peering into the gloom in the corner at a small, faint circle in the dust on the ground.

  “Try stepping on it,” Alex said.

  There was a click and a section of the wall slid aside with a soft hum. Beyond was a room around four feet deep and ten feet across. There was an advanced looking security device with a keypad on the wall opposite which appeared to require a code, a keycard, a retinal scan and possibly DNA and urine samples to let someone past.

  So it was just as well the trapdoor in the floor to their right was already open. The top of a staircase was visible, leading down into complete darkness.

  “Well, that doesn’t look creepy or dangerous at all,” Micah said.

  Alex placed a foot down onto the first step as he tried to see what hid in the gloom. Tiny lights blinked on, delineating the edge of each step and illuminating the grey walls. The staircase descended to a corridor. Where the corridor led was out of sight.

  “We’ve come this far,” he said, unholstering his pistol and starting down the stairs. “Besides, there are thousands of people out there who want to tear the flesh from our bones with their teeth. How much more creepy and dangerous could this be?”

  “I’m not going to answer that,” Micah said, following him.

  Twenty feet from the foot of the stairs the corridor ended at a door. There was no handle. Instead, a touchpad was set into the wall on the right. Alex touched it. There was a whining sound and the door slid to the left an inch and then stopped. He tried it again. The door whined again, shuddered, but didn’t move any further.

  “The wonders of technology,” he muttered, holstering his gun and inserting his fingers through the narrow gap. “If anything leaps at me when I open this, shoot it.”

  Wrapping his fingertips around edge of the door, he pulled. At first, the mechanism fought back, then there was a clunk and the door slid open. A body sitting against the other side dropped through the doorway, hitting Alex’s legs. He yelped and jumped backwards, almost colliding with Micah.

  There were a couple of seconds of silence.

  “Would you like me to shoot him?” Micah said.

  “I was just startled.”

  There was a large wound in the corpse’s head. Whether or not he’d been an eater before he died was impossible to tell with his eyes closed, and Alex wasn’t about to try opening them.

  “At least it hasn’t been eaten,” Micah said as he stepped over the body. “That’s a good sign.”

  “Throw down your weapons and raise your hands!”

  At the sound of the shouting behind them, Alex threw himself around the side of the doorway, Micah doing the same. Whoever it was, was back along the corridor.

  “This is Carla Heaton, MI5,” a woman’s voice yelled. “I’m armed. Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands raised.”

  Micah glanced at him and mouthed, “MI5?”

  “This is DC Alex MacCallum,” Alex called. “Not going to happen.”

  There were a few seconds of silence.

  “Show me your badge,” the voice yelled again.

  Alex took his badge from his belt and, using his thumb and forefinger, held it around the doorjamb, trying to expose as little of his hand as possible.

  “Okay,” the voice yelled.

  Alex pulled back his badge, relieved to still have his fingers intact. “I’ve shown you mine,” he shouted, “now you show me yours.”

  There was a soft thud.

  Alex darted his head around the corner and back again. An ID lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. He hadn’t been shot at so he risked another, slower, look. The ID looked genuine, but whoever it belonged to was up the stairs, out of sight. He pulled his head back to safety again.

  “Thanks,” he shouted. “Can we agree not to shoot each other now?”

  “Alright,” the voice shouted back.

  “She doesn’t sound very happy about it,” Micah said.

  Alex heard movement from the corridor and peered out. A woman was creeping down the stairs, a pistol in her hand. She saw him and froze. Keeping his own gun raised, he stepped out and walked towards her. They stopped a few feet apart.

  “Let me see your ID,” she said.

  Alex pulled a leather wallet from his inside pocket and handed it to her. She studied his identification for a moment and handed it back to him.

  “Can we put these down now?” he said, waggling his pistol slightly.

  “Where’s your friend?” she said, still looking mistrustful.

  Alex heard movement behind him and he turned to see Micah walking out from behind the wall, gun in hand.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, moving her pistol to point at him.

  “Micah Clarke, Pizza Hut. I’d show you my name tag, but I left it at home.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Pizza Hut arm their employees now?”

  “You think an eater outbreak is bad, try a Saturday evening shift.” He smiled and stuffed his gun back into its holster.

  Apparently mollified by the gesture, she did the same. Carla Heaton, MI5, was a woman of around forty, with short blonde hair and an athletic build. She was wearing jeans and a long sleeved top beneath a stab proof vest.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  “We heard rumours about a secret facility that might have something to do with the outbreak,” Alex said.

  She frowned. “Rumours? From where?”

  “What are you doing here?” he said, ignoring her question.

  “I came in from outside the city to check on this place,” she said.

  “Wait, so there is a secret lab here?” Micah said.

  “Well, I’d hardly call it secret. Its existence isn’t publicised, but it’s a matter of public record that a facility exists here for research into Meir’s.” She nodded at the corpse. “Did you kill him?”

  “No,” Alex replied, “he was already like that when we got here. So does that mean the government are going to do something now? Are there more coming?”

  “No. At least, I don’t know.” She looked awkward. “I’m not exactly here in an officially sanctioned capacity.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  He gaze returned to the body. “My husband works here.”

  Both Alex and Micah looked at the corpse.

  “That’s not...?” Micah said.

  “No, that’s not him,” Carla said. “His name is Dr Franklin Waters. I never liked him. But I suppose you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, so I won’t tell you why.” She stepped over the body and walked into the room beyond, which appeared to be some kind of storage area, cont
aining stacked tables and chairs and other items of dusty furniture.

  “How did you get into the city?” Micah said as they followed her.

  “A friend in the army got me onto one of the helicopters.”

  “If this place isn’t a secret,” he said, “then why is the entrance so hard to find?”

  “What, the shed?” She smiled. “That’s just the back door. Emergency exit. Most people use the main entrance.”

  “Of course there’s a main entrance,” Alex said, feeling ridiculous. “Because there isn’t a secret lab.” He gave Micah a pointed look.

  Carla reached a half glazed door, checked through the window, then opened it and stepped through.

  “Is this Bates’ amazing inside information?” Alex muttered to Micah as they followed her into a wide corridor. “A laboratory everyone knows about?”

  “What kind of research do they do here?” Micah said to Carla as she moved along the corridor, checking through the window of each door as she passed.

  “Phil didn’t talk about it much, but they’re trying to find a cure that will work for more people, as well as when people are fully turned.”

  “Why is this place underground?” Alex said.

  “Phil said it was because the work is important and it’s easier to keep it safe down here. I would have thought there would be easier ways to ensure security, but...” She shrugged. “There are a lot of people who don’t care about a cure, who would rather have everything happen elsewhere or simply wipe out all eaters and Survivors.” She glanced at him. “You of all people should be familiar with that attitude.”

  “And that’s all they’re doing here?” he said, not quite ready to let the idea of the secret laboratory go, even if it was sounding less and less plausible.

  “Far as I know. Why?”

  He didn’t answer, but the empty warehouses, the underground facility, the fact that he’d never heard of the place, it wasn’t adding up. But whether or not Carla believed what she was telling them, he couldn’t tell. And what did it have to do with the outbreak?

  “How long...”

  “Shhh,” she hissed, ear pressed to a windowless door at the end of the corridor. “I can hear movement.”

  Alex and Micah drew their pistols immediately. Carla pulled the door open quickly and aimed her gun into the next room. Someone screamed.

  “Mrs Heaton?”

  Carla lowered her gun and stepped through the door. Feeling fairly certain they weren’t about to be attacked or bitten, Alex followed, with Micah bringing up the rear.

  The large room they entered was obviously an employee lounge, furnished with tables and chairs, a small kitchen area, and several sofas. A set of glass double doors on the opposite side of the room led into another wide corridor.

  Five people were in the room, three men and two women. Four of them were wearing lab coats. The only one who wasn’t, one of the men, wore a security guard’s uniform and carried a pistol in a waist holster.

  “Is Phil here?” Carla said.

  The little group exchanged nervous glances. For the first time since she’d arrived, Carla lost her cool.

  “Is my husband here?” she screamed. “Tell me!”

  One of the women stepped forward, a young brunette with red rimmed glasses and a ponytail. She touched Carla’s upper arm. “He’s here, Carla. I’ll take you to him.”

  Carla took a breath and nodded. “Thank you, Hannah.”

  The others in the room eyed Alex and Micah suspiciously, but no-one said anything, and with nowhere else to go they followed Carla and the brunette through the glass doors.

  A long corridor stretched out ahead of them, the walls on either side glazed from waist height up. Through the windows Alex could see rooms with long, white, Formica topped tables covered with medical equipment and machines. It was definitely an underground laboratory, which was almost as unbelievable as a secret laboratory. Making their way through the facility, Alex felt slightly surreal.

  Ahead of them, Carla strode purposely while Hannah, who was at least five inches shorter, was almost jogging to keep up. Alex’s eyes dropped to her feet. She was dressed in a white blouse with a black pencil skirt that came to just above the knee, all very professional looking, but on her feet she wore black canvas shoes with red laces and little red flowers printed all over, the rubber soles squeaking on the smooth, off-white floor as she hurried along.

  It was cute in a geeky kind of way.

  Every so often she would glance back at them with a slight frown on her face, as if she wanted to ask them who they were. But then she’d look at Carla beside her and return her attention to the way ahead.

  After traversing two corridors, they came to a set of double doors with a keypad and card swipe on the adjoining wall. The doors were heavy, metal, tough-looking. They were doors that said, “If you don’t belong here, go away or we will hurt you.”

  One of them was propped open with a chair.

  Hannah led them through without a word.

  The further they got into the facility, the more apprehensive Alex became. The rooms they passed now, as well as medical equipment, included large metal tables equipped with metal restraints. Large, round lights, the kind Alex had seen on TV in hospital drama operating rooms, hung from the ceilings over the tables, or were attached to tall, moveable stands. He saw a tray covered with what looked like surgical instruments, but there was no sign of any gas cylinders that could have contained anaesthetic or oxygen.

  Finally, they reached a solid metal door.

  The smell of eaters permeated the air here, both the originals and the new strain. Alex drew his gun, immediately on alert.

  “It’s alright, you won’t need that,” Hannah said.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” he replied. He kept it ready anyway.

  Through the door was a large, square room. The wall was lined with a series of six feet square cells, fronted with clear acrylic.

  Occupying several of the cells were live eaters.

  24

  It all became clear.

  The tables with the metal restraints, the surgical instruments with no anaesthetic. Everything was for working on eaters.

  A rack on one wall contained a selection of tools Alex recognised from the early days of Meir’s, produced for eater restraint and control. He didn’t know they were still in use, at least in the UK. Most of them had been denounced as inhumane, even for Meir’s victims.

  An anguished cry wrenched from Carla’s lips as she ran across the room towards one of the cells. The eater inside was a tall, dark-haired man somewhere in his forties. He was wearing a lab coat. If not for the moan he let out, he could almost have passed for normal.

  Carla reached the cell and placed her hands on the plastic surface. The eater pushed his face against the other side, trying to reach her.

  “Phil,” she sobbed. “No.”

  Micah turned away and walked from the room. After a few seconds, Alex followed. She didn’t need two people she’d only just met intruding on her grief.

  Hannah was in the corridor outside, holding her glasses in one hand while she used her sleeve to wipe her eyes.

  She gave a small smile as they approached. “Are you friends of Carla’s?”

  “No, we just met her coming in,” Alex said. “I’m Alex, this is Micah.”

  “Hannah,” she said. “So what are you doing here? Are you looking for relatives, like Carla?” She focused on Micah. “Oh, are you Patty’s brother? You kind of look like her, a bit. Not a lot, but around the eyes. And maybe the cheekbones. But not the nose. Patty’s nose is... well, you’ve seen it. Not that it’s a bad nose, just... unusual. I’m really sorry, but I don’t know where she is.”

  “No,” Alex said, taking advantage of the gap as Hannah took a breath. “He’s not... we’re not... actually, we were looking for this place.”

  “We came to find out if what’s going on out there has anything to do with what you’ve been doing in here,” Micah said,
a little harshly, in Alex’s opinion.

  “Oh.” Hannah looked at the floor. “None of us knew what they were doing.”

  “What who were doing?” Micah said.

  “I’m just a virologist,” she said. “I work in the main lab. Or what I thought was the main lab. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Main lab?” Alex said.

  “Beyond those doors we came through, with the chair. You know the ones?” She stopped, waiting for them to acknowledge that they did indeed know which doors she was talking about. They both nodded. “Well, that’s where I work. We’re working to create a better cure that will be effective on more people, as well as a way to treat those who’ve already turned. We’re trying to help people.” She looked through the window into the lab next to her. “We didn’t know what went on back here. We were just told it was nothing bad, but was top secret and the funding for our work came from what they were doing here so we shouldn’t rock the boat. Well, they never said that specifically, but we all got the feeling it was implied. When we found out...” She shook her head. “We didn’t know they were using live eaters. I’m not even sure what they were doing to them. All the information is on the computers here, but we don’t have the passwords. None of us who are left worked back here.”

  Alex was relieved to hear she didn’t have anything to do with whatever was going on in the labs. Wherever he was going to direct his anger, he didn’t want it to be at her. “Where is everyone else?” he said.

  “Some didn’t come in the first day. Most of them left when we realised how bad things were, to find their families. I live alone, so I had no-one to go back for, and I thought maybe we could help somehow. Then Frank turned and bit Phil. We didn’t even know he was infected. He could have killed us all. Phil saved us.”

  She stopped and looked down, sniffing. Alex dug in his jacket pocket for a clean tissue and handed to her. She smiled and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Thank you. The five of us left have been trying to find out what they were doing so that maybe we can do something to help.”

  “So the outbreak started here?”

  “In a way, yes. We found blood in one of the cells, uninfected blood. From what we can tell, one of the people who worked here was bitten, didn’t tell anyone, probably went home and turned and it started from there.”