One morning, Faraday explained to Peter that the virus was manmade, that somebody had messed with the Australian Antigen – commonly know as Hepatitis B. The reason the virus was so hard to beat was because it was manufactured.
A week passed and Peter began to feel at home, not happy exactly, but busy. Too busy to contemplate the empty world outside the windows or the fact that he had lost family and friends he couldn’t even remember.
He still often dreamt about the woman, but was still unable to place her in his previous life.
His memory blank.
Faraday seemed unconcerned.
***
Faraday was studying data today. There was little practical that Peter could assist with so he had been given the day off. It was now day 10 and today’s dose of blue medicine would be his last. Faraday was going to give him a check-up tomorrow morning.
Since waking up at the facility, Peter had been confined to his room, the lab, or the rec room. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Faraday had forbid him from going outside, explaining that the building was currently sealed to prevent ingress by the virus. The only air getting into the building was through industrial filters on the roof.
Peter peered in through the windows of the lab and saw that Faraday was slumped over his printouts, obsessing over every line of text. Peter had noticed that when the man was concentrating on something you could start a fire and it would not distract him.
Peter headed down the corridor, rattling locked door handles on either side, bored and anxious. He didn’t want to spend the day kicking his heels because he would end up contemplating his existence. And his existence was daunting.
The elevator and stairwell were both locked so he couldn’t leave the building even if he had wanted to. The same was true for reaching the upper floors. He was stuck in the middle of the building. Nowhere to go.
He eventually resigned himself to spending the afternoon in his room with one of the paperbacks that Faraday had provided him with. He climbed onto his bed and chose a book called The Hunger Maze. He assumed he would read all the books in time, so made his current selection only by virtue of it being on top of the pile.
Opening the book for the first time brought a warm, cosy feeling to Peter and gave him an overwhelming certainty that he was an avid reader. A part of himself had returned, been rediscovered.
He was about to turn the pages to the beginning of the story when he noticed something written on the inside cover. It was the looping blue ink of somebody’s handwriting.
Faraday will kill you.
Don’t believe his lies.
Get out.
It’s too late for me. I’m infected.
That was it. The whole message.
What the hell?
Who had written it?
And why?
-3-
Peter had awoken that morning in fear. There was no brief ten-second window of bliss that usually accompanied semi-consciousness. He snapped right awake with utter clarity.
Faraday will kill you.
Peter cursed whoever had left the message for not being more concise. What exactly was going on? What should he be scared of? Who was Faraday and what was he up to?
Was the virus even real?
He was due at the lab so that was where he went. Whatever the truth about Faraday, the man had not attempted to harm Peter. It was better to stay calm and observe. He was trapped with this man and it would not pay to be rash.
“Morning, Peter,” Faraday said happily as he entered the room.
“Good morning. Have you been up long?”
“Ha, I never sleep. Day and night possess no distinction to me. We’re getting close, Peter. I can feel it.”
“To a cure?”
“Yes, what else? Put the kettle on and I’ll fill you in.”
Peter went over to the lab’s small clean up area and switched on the kettle. With the amount of coffee that Faraday drank, there was little wonder the man barely slept. In addition to the coffee grounds, there was also a large supply of tea bags.
Had they belonged to somebody else?
The person who had written the message in the book?
“How long since somebody else was here, Dr Faraday?” he asked casually.
“I told you, Peter. I’ve been alone for a long time now. My colleagues have been gone several years.”
“Did any of them ever stay in the room I’m staying in?”
“Not that I remember. The scientists were based on the top floor. It’s only since being alone that I have moved into the lab permanently.”
“What about the paperbacks you gave me? Did they belong to one of your colleagues?”
Faraday stopped what he was doing and frowned. “Why so many questions?”
“I’m just curious. I’m trying to get back my memories.”
“Oh? Has anything come back?”
“Not much. I’ve been dreaming about a woman. I don’t know who she is.”
“I wish I could help you. You and I never worked together directly before you went under.”
“How many others went under with me?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Peter chewed at his cheek. Less than thirty people. Humanity really was down to nothing. “Where are they now? I mean, where are they all sleeping?”
“They are in the basement, Peter. Where I woke you up. Do you not remember taking the elevator up?”
Peter made Faraday his coffee and brought it over. “Vaguely. It’s all a bit of a blur. Would I be able to go down and see? I’d like to know more about the facility.”
“I’m afraid I cannot allow that, Peter.”
“Why not?”
“The facility is very sensitive. We cannot afford any breaches. By containing ourselves here we decrease the chances of anything going wrong. I only went down to wake you up because it was a necessity.”
“I’m a prisoner here, then?”
Faraday smiled widely, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t amused. “Of course not. I am just telling you what is at stake. If you try to leave the building you will become infected and die. If you go wandering around the building, you run the risk of an accident. There are only the two of us; we need to stay together. Keep an eye on one another.”
“Have you tried to make contact with anybody else out there?” Peter asked, feeling he should drop the subject of exploring, but unable to stop with the questions completely. Something radiated off Faraday and it scared him.
“I kept an open radio channel for years but received nothing. There’s the CDC facility in Atlanta and a Military science facility in Nevada that I have hopes for, but I can confidently say that we are the only two people left alive in Seattle. Last message we ever got here was from Porton Down in the United Kingdom. The virus had breached their facility.”
Peter slumped down in a roller chair and exhaled. “Then what are we doing here? It sounds like humanity is done.”
Faraday moved up close to Peter and looked him in the eye. “It’s easy to feel like that, Peter, but if only one man and one woman still exist then there is a chance for mankind to return from the ashes. If we can destroy the virus.”
“You really think you can do it?”
Faraday blinked slowly and smiled. “I’m certain of it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught the flash of something in Faraday’s hand. He managed to push back on his chair and roll away just as doctor swung the object towards his neck.
It was a dripping syringe.
“What are you doing?” Peter demanded, leaping up out of his chair.
Faraday remained calm, still smiling. “I’m trying to help you, Peter.”
“By sticking me in the neck? What’s in the syringe?”
“HBsAG11.”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “You’re trying to infect me with the virus!”
Faraday approached Peter, making him stagger backwards to keep a distance between them.
“Yes, I am trying to infect you with the virus. How else can I test to see if you’re immune?”
“Immune?”
“Yes. What do you think you’ve been drinking each day since you woke up? The concoction is my latest attempt at a vaccine. I need to test it. I’m sure I have it right this time.”
Peter kept moving backwards, but quickly found himself bumping up against the counter in the corner where the kettle was. “I’m not your guinea pig.”
Faraday rolled his eyes. “Please, you would still be on ice if not for me. As good as dead already. This way you have a chance to live.”
“Or die,” Peter said. “You don’t know that your cure will work.”
“Eventually it will have to. Every time I get closer.”
“Every time? How many people have you tried this on?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Peter thought about the number and realised what it meant. “I’m the last one? You’ve woken everybody up tested your cure on all of them. Did any of them survive?”
Faraday inhaled and seemed to grow two inches. When he let the breath out it took a long time for his lungs to empty. “No,” he whispered. “They all died. But you will be different, Peter.”
“You’re damn right I will be.”
Peter grabbed the kettle from the counter behind him and swung it around. It struck Faraday in the chin and spun him around. Hot water escaped and burned them both.
Taking his opportunity, Peter shoved the mad doctor away and made a run for it. He made it out into the corridor before he realised that he had no place to go. The windows were sealed and so was the stairwell door. The elevator was locked too.
Trapped.
Faraday staggered out into the hallway behind him. “You fool. This is our chance to save the world. This is my chance to atone.”
Peter started walking backwards down the corridor, keeping his eye on the lunatic with the syringe full of death. “Atone? Atone for what?”
“For dooming us all. It was my mistake that let the virus out of the lab. It was supposed to be a cure for Hepatitis, not a monster all its own. My wife was Hep B positive. That’s why I was working on the project. I… I just wanted her better.”
Peter shook his head as he realised what had happened. “You treated her, didn’t you? But instead of curing her, you made her patient zero.”
Faraday swallowed loudly. His eyes brimmed with tears. “The tests on rats showed promise. I thought for sure it would work.”
Peter snarled. “You didn’t do it because you wanted to help your wife. You did it because you wanted to test your work, no matter the price. Just like you’re doing now.”
“No,” he wailed. “I’m just trying to make it better. Do you think this is easy?”
“I’m sure it’s easier than the previous twenty-seven people you infected before me.”
“They were strangers. This is different. It was me who insisted you join the others in cryo sleep. You wanted to stay behind and help me. I wanted you safe.”
Peter frowned. “What do you mean?”
Faraday let his head drop, then raised it slowly so he could look once again at Peter. “You’re my son, Peter. That’s why I left you until last. That’s why I didn’t wake you up until I was sure I had the cure. I promise I can save you. Save everyone that’s left.”
Peter’s mouth hung open. A flash of memory told him that what he was hearing was true. The memories were flittering back. He and his father had worked here together, along with somebody else. “My mother worked here with us?”
Faraday wiped the tears from his eyes and smiled. “Yes, yes. She was here with us.”
“You killed my mother.”
“I tried to cure her.”
“But instead you murdered her. You murdered everyone.” He took a step towards his father, feeling so much hatred that he might burst.
Faraday looked afraid, perhaps worried that his son was walking towards him when he should have been running away. “Please, let me help you, Peter.” He lifted the syringe gingerly. “I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t certain.”
Peter held his arms out wide and nodded. “Okay. I won’t stay here with a monster like you, so if this kills me so be it.”
Faraday smiled, almost gushed with excitement. When he lifted his hand he was shaking almost uncontrollably. “You won’t regret this, son.”
He injected Peter in the neck, making him flinch, but he held still until the virus was fully administered.
“The virus will become contagious in a few hours so we need to get your quarantined. I know it’s going to work. You and I are going to save the world.”
Peter shook his head. “No, we’re not.”
He threw himself on top of his father and pinned him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the old man’s throat and squeezed. He thought about the other people infected and left to die – given paperback books to read while they waited for the inevitable.
Faraday will kill you.
Peter squeezed harder.
The terror in Faraday’s eyes did not deter him.
Faraday will kill you.
Billions of people had died because of this man.
But it was the twenty-seven who had frozen themselves in safety that he could not forgive. Faraday had woken them up and knowingly murdered them.
Faraday struggled and squirmed, but his son was much younger and stronger. Slowly the light faded from his eyes.
Then he went still.
Peter kept squeezing for another five minutes, making sure.
He checked his dead father’s pockets and found the keys to the facility, then got up and unlocked the elevator. First, he visited the basement where he found several dozen empty cryo pods. Their occupants woken up and murdered by a trusted colleague.
Peter was the last man in Seattle.
But when he stepped outside the building, he didn’t feel so alone. The sun was bright and birds sang delightful songs. The world was not dead, only mankind. Maybe he would find other survivors one day and they would all get a second chance. Maybe not.
Maybe his father’s last attempt at a cure was another failure. His final failure. Peter might be dead within the week. Only time would tell.
Peter Faraday set off into the world, wondering if his nose was leaking because of a cold.
Or if he was coming down with the flu.
END.
About The Author
Iain Rob Wright is one of the UK's most successful horror and suspense writers, with novels including the critically acclaimed, THE FINAL WINTER; the disturbing bestseller, ASBO; and the wicked screamfest, THE HOUSEMATES.
His work is currently being adapted for graphic novels, audio books, and foreign audiences. He is an active member of the Horror Writer Association and a massive animal lover.
Check out Iain's official website or add him on Facebook where he would love to meet you.
www.iainrobwright.com
FEAR ON EVERY PAGE
More Books by Iain Rob Wright
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Apocalyptic horror that culminates in a fight for survival at a hilltop amusement park. Say goodbye to the world.
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TARGET: UK US
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Copyright
* * *AN SG HORROR RELEASE* * *
Part of the SALGAD PUBLISHING GROUP
Redditch
UK, Worcestershire
www.SALGADPUBLISHING.com
I is for Ice copyright 2015 by Iain Rob Wright
www.IAINROBWRIGHT.com
Cover Art Copyright 2015 Iain Rob Wright
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Table of Contents
BOOK SUMMARY
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About The Author
More Books by Iain Rob Wright
Copyright
I is for Ice (A-Z of Horror Book 9) Page 2