Necropolis (Necropolis Trilogy Book 3)

by Sean Deville

“Scanning for infection, please hold…” the voice said again. Croft stepped further into the room, slowly spinning ‘round to see if there was anything visible. But all he saw were white walls, white-tiled floor, and the glaring lights above. What the hell kind of facility was this?

  “No infection found. Proceed to processing.”

  “Hello?” Croft shouted. “Can you hear me?” He couldn’t see any cameras on the walls, and there were no windows. The other thing that struck him was there was no main hangar door. There had definitely been one on the outside, but now the only way in and out seemed to be the small door they had come in.

  “What’s going on, David?” Savage almost begged. She moved over to him and clutched his arm. Croft was about to say something, but the room interrupted, the lights dimming to about a fifth of their former brightness. On the ground in front of them, a rhythmic pattern of green chevrons formed on some of the tiles, creating what looked like a path towards the centre of the room. The chevrons pointed away from them, pulsing in the direction they were obviously expected to walk in. He looked behind him and saw that the lights flowed from the entry door.

  “Looks like we follow the path. What the hell is this, some kind of research facility?”

  “Why would it be in a civilian airport?” Savage asked. They both started walking, tentatively at first, their speed picking up. Halfway along the path, a large cylinder began to rise from the floor in the centre of the room. It was about the size of one of the old blue police boxes that tourists sometimes found on London’s streets. It was as white as the rest of the surroundings. When they were within two metres of it, the lights on the floor disappeared. The cylinder rotated, and a recess opened up in the side, glowing red on the periphery. The whole thing had occurred silently, even their footsteps hardly registering.

  “Please place your right hand into the scanner,” the female voice demanded. The tone told them it wasn’t a request. This was technology neither of them had seen before. The red light around the recess pulsed with the same rhythm as the lighting on the floor.

  “Please place your right hand into the scanner,” the female voice said again. Savage looked at Croft who just shrugged.

  “Ladies first?” Savage nodded and stepped forward. Hesitating briefly, she pushed her right hand towards the recess. The hole looked safe enough; there were no edges or rivets. It just seemed to be smooth and uniform, like the cylinder. Biting her bottom lip, she put her hand in. Instantly, the whole of her hand was engulfed in a constant red light. After several seconds, the light disappeared.

  “Rejected. Scan does not match biometric data.” Savage stepped back, a look of confusion on her face.

  “We have nothing like this in the military,” Savage said.

  “And I’ve not seen anything like this since I was recruited.” Croft had been biometrically scanned before, but this was a million miles away from anything he had encountered.

  “Please place your right hand into the scanner.”

  “I guess it’s my turn.” Croft stepped forward and did as Savage had done. The same red light appeared, but this time, it almost instantly turned green, and a faint green pulse flowed across the surface of the cylinder.

  “Accepted. Scan matches biometric data. Preparing for extraction.”

  “What the fu…” Croft said and tried to remove his hand. But he couldn’t. It was as if someone strong had grabbed him. He looked behind him, saw the confusion in Lucy’s eyes. “My bloody hand’s stuck.”

  “Beginning extraction, please hold,” the female voice said. Croft tried pulling harder, but whilst there was no pain, he just couldn’t remove his hand. Croft suddenly felt lightheaded, felt the feeling start to seep out of his hands and feet, a tingling spreading across his nervous system. Savage went to grab him, but before she could, a transparent yet shimmering energy seemed to encase him, rising up rapidly from the ground. With a process that she couldn’t understand, the energy started to turn white, and seemed to drag Croft into the body of the cylinder, as if it was somehow absorbing him.

  “David?” Savage cried and touched the shield, only to find herself being hurled away by an energy bolt that left her stunned and semi-conscious on the floor. Lying on her back, she saw his face disappear behind the whiteness, and then his whole form was totally sucked into the cylinder. The recess was no longer present, and the whole shape that had consumed the man she loved pulsed green three times. Then it began to descend back into the ground.

  Her whole arm tingled painfully with pins and needles where she had been shocked, and she used her other arm to help push herself off the ground. In less than five seconds, the cylinder was completely swallowed up by the ground, and she was left alone. No, not alone, there was still the voice.

  “Extraction complete. Protective holographic sanctuary no longer required. Deactivating in 5…” There was a flicker in the reality around her.

  “4, 3…” The room around Savage rippled again, the air seeming to move and the lights flashed brightly, causing her to wince.

  “2, 1. Hologram terminated. Thank you, please proceed to the nearest exit.” Everything went black, and then the light came back. But this was daylight, from numerous windows in the hangar. The area she was in was much smaller than previous, and the hangar was occupied by a plane and an assortment of equipment. And there was noise, a lot of noise, and Savage turned to the door they had come through, the sound of the infected on the other side beating against the metal.

  Standing ten metres from the door, she witnessed in horror the portal failing, bursting inwards, and half a dozen infected fought with each other to get through the now shattered entrance. They spread out in the hangar, more following after them. Sniffing the air, the infected inching towards her, and then as a unit, they howled the call of their feral being.

  “No,” Savage almost whispered to herself. She had nowhere to run, and the infected swarmed towards her.

  Croft came round into utter darkness. His body felt weak, and he found it difficult to breath. He tried to move his head, but something was holding it tight, almost as if he was held in a vice. For a moment, he didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed, but that mystery was answered when a thin line of red light moved across his vision. The light grew in intensity, dimly illuminating everything around him, although he was limited in what he could see. There was a soft electronic sound and the light slowly shifted to green, its eerie glow in no way reassuring.

  “Retrieval complete. Stand by for neural unlocking.” The voice was calm, female, and pleasant. It had an almost hypnotic quality to it and it drifted through his thoughts rather than being transmitted by his ears. It could have been his mother’s. Croft tried to move his arms, but found they too were immobile. Down by his feet, a brightness formed, and it rapidly moved up towards his head.

  He could see properly now, saw the slight distortion above him from whatever was encasing him, saw the room lights that came into view as whatever he was in moved out into the light. Someone he didn’t know stood outside holding a computer tablet of some kind. Croft began to struggle, fighting against what he felt were restraints, not understanding that he was merely fighting against the paralysis of his own body. The guy outside tapped at his tablet, and then a lightness came over Croft’s thoughts. Within seconds, he lost consciousness again, his mind floating away, the screams of Savage drowning out his last swimming thoughts.

  When he came round again, he was in a hospital bed. His head pounded, and there were tubes and wires running from his arms and his chest. The privacy curtain around his bed was closed, and with great effort, he moved his head around, seeing the silent machines that were proving he was still alive. Croft had never seen medical equipment like this before. He had been in hospital beds before, and there was something about this that just felt wrong.

  Firstly, how could he even be here?

  Secondly, where was he?

  Croft tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea hit him like a truck and he fought val
iantly to stop the bile rising in his throat. It was probably only the fact that his stomach was empty that saved him. Sitting his head back, the feeling subsided, and he seemed to sink into the pillow. He was amazed at how comfortable the softness felt. In fact, the whole bed seemed to encase him in an almost sensual embrace. It seemed like no bed he had ever lain on before in his life. His eyes closed, and he drifted off again to a realm of confusion and memory. As far as he would remember, he didn’t dream. There were no thoughts of Savage this time.

  “Major?” Croft heard the voice drift into his thoughts. “Major, it’s time to wake up.” Croft tried to resist the voice, oblivion too enticing for him. But then a hand started to rock his shoulder, the voice getting more insistent. He opened his eyes begrudgingly.

  “It’s good to have you back, Major.” Croft looked at the man blankly. He seemed familiar, looked like someone he might know, but at the same time, Croft had no idea who the man was. He was sure the two of them had met once before. Croft tried to sit up again, but the hand on his shoulder gently restrained him. “Take it easy. Major. You are still disorientated. You will feel groggy for several hours yet.”

  “Where am I?” he said weakly.

  “In the hospital, of course,” the man said. He looked almost amused.

  “But how can I be here?” The man didn’t answer him. Instead, he picked up a device off the table next to him.

  “I can’t answer your questions. Major, I’m just a nurse. And right now. I need to check you are okay.” The nurse held up the device in front of Croft’s face. “I need you to stare ahead and follow my instructions.” A light came on in the device, and the nurse examined his patient’s eyes with it. “Move just your eyes to the left,” the nurse said. “And to the right.” Nodding, the nurse put the instrument back down.

  “Can you tell me what year it is, Major?” the nurse asked.

  “2015,” Croft answered. His throat was dry, and his lips felt cracked.

  “Hmm, interesting,” the nurse said.

  After the nurse left, Croft was alone for almost an hour. He felt too drained to try and get out of bed, and so just lay there, trying to understand what was happening, his mind swimming with thoughts that seemed strangely not his own. He needed answers, but his confusion linked with an apathy that was unlike him. The last thing he remembered was putting his hand on the touch screen. Everything after that was a blur, made of vapours. It was there, but he just couldn’t quite focus see it. The more Croft tried to focus in on the memory, the more it would dance away.

  When the curtain was pulled back, the blonde woman standing there smiled at him. Like the first person he had seen, she too was holding an electronic tablet. And Croft knew her, he was certain of this. He just didn’t know how.

  “Welcome back,” she said. Before Croft could reply, she held up her hand to silence him. “I know right now you don’t understand, but it will come. You just have to give it time.”

  “Give what time? Where the hell am I? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?” His voice sounded angry, agitated.

  “You might not believe it, but you know where you are, you just can’t remember right now.”

  “What are you talking about? And where’s Lucy?” The woman looked confused, and looking down at her tablet, she scrolled across it with her finger. She nodded when she found what she was looking for.

  “Lucy Savage. Thirty-eight years old. Captain, Royal Medical Corp.” She looked up at Croft. “We’ll get into that when you’re fully recovered.”

  “No God damnit, we’ll get into it now.” Croft flung the bed sheets to the side and yanked his legs over the edge of the bed as best he could. He made to push himself onto his feet, but the strength just wasn’t there. “Who the fuck are you people?” A man appeared, and Croft felt his legs grabbed gently, his body was swung back onto the bed, the covers reapplied.

  “Stubborn as ever,” the woman said. “Patience, David, you will give yourself all the answers you need.” The woman nodded at the male nurse, the same one from earlier, and the nurse held something against Croft’s neck. There was a hissing sound and a slight feeling of pressure against his skin. Then he felt his world drift away once again.

  When he woke up again several hours later, he understood everything. The blonde woman was still there, sitting by his bed. She was asleep, her head resting on the covers, holding his hand. He gripped her fingers gently, giving them a loving squeeze. The woman’s head rose from the bedspread, and she gave him a smile.

  “Hi,” Croft said. Her tender face turned into a full-on grin, and she pulled his hand towards her, kissing his fingers.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said. “We nearly lost you.”

  “I know,” Croft said, “but I’m here now.” His face suddenly went solemn. “Did anyone else make it?” The woman shook her head sadly.

  “No, it’s all gone to shit.” The woman stood up, lingering with his hands for a few seconds. “The director wants to speak to you.”

  Croft was still in his dressing gown, and had been transported to the command and control room in a wheelchair, a short ten-minute trip along bright, spotless white corridors. Everyone he met was a stranger to him. This wasn’t the facility he worked at. Some of those people gave him nervous glances, news of his retrieval a source of gossip amongst them. There was also nervous energy about them as if some tragedy had befallen them all. In a sense, Croft supposed that was exactly what had happened.

  The blonde woman wheeled him into the huge room that was just like the one in the Devon facility he had been in countless times before. The woman wheeled him past rows of computer terminals, and through into a back office where a single man sat looking harassed. The room was spotless and sparsely furnished. Its walls and floor were white like every wall and floor Croft had seen here so far.

  “Major,” the bald man said, standing. He moved around his metal desk to shake Croft’s hand with. The major was still amazed about how feeble he was. Croft made no attempt to stand up, because he knew his legs still didn’t work right. It would be hours before his neural system was fully recovered, and the peripheral limbs were always the last parts of the body to regain their strength. Croft knew the man, had met him several times before. So, this was Brussels. He had a vague recollection of the day he came here.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it, Director.” There was general regret in Croft’s voice, and he saw from the director’s face that there was no blame attached.

  “I know. You did all you could, more than anyone could have hoped given the circumstances.” The director turned to the blonde woman, then back to Croft. “Has your sister told you where things are at?”

  “No,” Jane Croft said to the director. “I thought it would be better coming from you.”

  “It looks like we are going to lose the lot. Billions may be lost. The Devon facility is already deemed unsalvageable. Everybody there will be sent for recycling before the day is out.”

  “Shit,” Croft said.

  Croft was alone again in his hospital room. He was watching the news on his virtual TV display. The enhanced robotics in his left eye relayed the images to his brain, feeding the sound through thought induction. Nobody else would have been able to see what he was watching.

  “We still have no confirmation from the Director of the British Virtual Life facility, but rumours are still flowing across the InterMind about a catastrophe there. All attempts to get information have been met with stone-walling and delay. As soon as we hear anything, you will be the first to know.” There then followed an advert for the latest skin rejuvenation therapy which Croft allowed to play out. As crass as it was, he’d kind of missed it.

  Virtual Life, the world’s most successful population control mechanism ever devised. The world of 2015 had been close to catastrophe. With fourteen billion people on a planet riddled by wars, pollution, and massive crop failures due to global cooling, the planet had finally begun to shrug its shoulders to try and rid itself of the scou
rge that was scarring its skin. Mother Gaia no longer loved her children.

  The ecosystem of the planet was still reeling from the atomic wars between India and Pakistan. It was two years after the great California quake which has seen much of Los Angeles ripped from the North American Union land mass and thrown into the sea. It was also the year the English Channel had frozen solid, the snows on the European continent devastating the economy there. Robotisation had led to mass unemployment, with a population crying out for entertainment, for distractions. International gladiatorial games, violent police oppression, and sponsored wars were not stopping the riots that were ripping the heart out of western society. So something deeper than the standard bread and circuses was needed to calm the populace. The prisons and forced labour camps had become full, the euthanasia camps overflowing with volunteers wanting a quick relief from the never-ending torment of being poor on a planet only the rich could now enjoy. Humanity was close to checking out forever, killed by its own success as a species.

  But one man with a vision changed all that. With enhancements made to neural interfaces, his company, SirenCall, discovered the technology to transfer the human consciousness into a virtual reality realm. Completely indistinguishable from true waking consciousness, the human mind could spend its days in another artificial universe entirely. The Global Planetary Government saw the possibilities, and within a year, the first American facility was under construction. Relatively small at first, the first one thousand volunteers stepped away from their lives of hardship and were plugged into the relative heaven of a virtual world. It was the greatest advancement in human evolution in ten thousand years.

  The psychologists knew not to make it a perfect Nirvana, the human mind needing hardship and despair to make happiness and bliss meaningful. Humans needed the clarity that came with risk and adversity…they just had to make it a world better than the one that people lived in now. That wasn’t too hard for them to achieve. The first thousand volunteers plugged themselves in to international fanfare, the ceremony broadcast across the global InterMind, the telepathic link created by implants in the frontal lobes that had long ago replaced the antiquated internet and telephone networks. To get onto the World Wide Web, now all you had to do was think.