by R. A. Hakok
Before Johnny 99 knows what he’s doing he’s shuffled forward to the front of the cage. He shouts at the mean soldier to stop.
The soldier hits the girl one more time with the stick and then uses it to push her way from the bars. She slumps to the floor of the cage, twitches once and then lies still.
The last thing Johnny 99 remembers is the blue light arcing between the metal prongs as the soldier turns around to face him.
*
I WAKE SOME TIME just before dawn. When I look over at the table I see Hicks is already up, sitting in the same spot where I left him last night. I banked the fire before I went to bed but it’s died anyway and now it’s bitterly cold. He doesn’t seem to care though. He’s just staring into the dead hearth, occasionally sipping from his thermos.
My head hurts a little from the bourbon but in spite of it I’m feeling better than when I went to bed last night. I still don’t understand how Dr. Gilbey could have forgotten about Fearrington, but perhaps Hicks has already told me as much as I need to know. It may not be the underground city Mount Weather is, but thirteen stories should be plenty big enough for the twenty-three of us that are left. And if Dr. Gilbey had planned to go there to continue her work on a cure it must have been stocked. It’d put us far from Eden too, with The Greenbrier between us, and that could be to our advantage. There’s clearly no love lost between Dr. Gilbey and Kane.
I climb out of my sleeping bag, already starting to feel excited. It’ll be a long hike for the Juvies but now that winter’s almost over they can manage it. I’d really like to go there first to check it out but the shortest route I can figure puts it seven days away, which means three weeks at the earliest before we could be back in Mount Weather. Even if we had supplies for the trip that’s too long; Peck might already be on his way. Besides, Benjamin’s codes have worked everywhere else I’ve been; there’s no reason they shouldn’t work there.
I get a fire going and open a can of devilled ham I picked up yesterday for breakfast. I offer some to Hicks but he says he’s already eaten. Must have been hours ago, because I can’t smell any of it. I reckon he’s a night-grazer, like Marv used to be. Whatever, more for me. I scoop the last of the ground meat from the tin, bag our trash and start packing up my kit.
It can’t be much after noon as we pass through The Greenbrier’s crumbling gateposts, but already it seems like the day’s darkening. Hicks cups one glove to his forehead and squints up at the thunderheads gathering along the horizon to the south.
‘Weather’s comin’.’
I follow his gaze. The sky there’s got a mean look to it. I wonder what this is going to do to our plans. Storms like this right at the end of winter rarely last long, but now that I know what we have to do I don’t want to lose any more time at The Greenbrier.
The breeze is quickening, sending flurries of gray snow dancing up the landing ramp into the helicopter’s gaping cargo bay as we pass. Up at the house the tattered flags snap and flutter on their flagpoles. We stop under the portico to remove our snowshoes and head inside. I shuck off my backpack, swap my boots for The Greenbrier slippers that are waiting for me on the bellhop cart and head straight for the corridor that leads to the bunker without waiting for Hicks. I’m hungry from the hike back but I can eat later; right now I just want to let Mags know I’m back and that I’ve found us somewhere to go.
When I get to the Exhibition Hall it’s empty. I see Truck’s makeshift spittoon sitting on the table, brimming with dark tobacco juice, but thankfully there’s no sign of him. I walk over to the corner and search for the panel he opened. It’s not easy to find, even now I know where to look, but eventually I locate the join in the gaudy wallpaper.
I push the panel and it pops out, allowing me to fold it back. In the recess behind the vault door waits. Flecks of paint still cling feebly to the underside of the handle but on top the metal’s burnished smooth from years of wear. I hesitate for a moment and then press down on the cold steel. The mechanism’s stiff and the handle reaches the end of its travel with a heavy clunk, but of course the door doesn’t budge.
I look at the intercom. Truck said Dr. Gilbey didn’t like to be disturbed, but I don’t care. Soon we’ll be gone, and then we’ll never see these people again. My finger’s already on the button when I hear a voice behind me.
‘Whaddya up to there, Huckleberry? Want to see if your little friend can come out to play?’
I turn around like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. Truck’s standing at the entrance.
‘I want to see Mags.’
He hitches up his pants and crosses the Exhibition Hall towards me.
‘You’ll see her soon enough I expect.’ He says it with a smile that sends a chill through me. ‘Right now Doc ain’t in there, though, so I can’t let you through.’
I sigh. Why couldn’t Kane just have released a virus that infected assholes? I tell myself it’ll be fine. Hicks will sort this out. I just need to get him.
I leave Truck in the Exhibition Hall and make my way back up the steps to the long corridor, taking them two at a time. There’s something about the way he smiled at me when he said I’d see Mags soon that’s got me worried now. As I’m passing the Colonial Lounge I hear voices coming from within. They’re muffled by the heavy door but there’s no mistaking Dr. Gilbey’s clipped, precise tones. I stop outside.
‘But you haven’t brought me one in months.’
I hesitate for a moment. There’s clearly somebody else in there with her, and Dr. Gilbey’s not the sort of person you just barge in on. My hand’s hovering over the door when I hear Hicks’ drawl.
‘I know, ma’am, but…’
I don’t wait for him to finish. I knock once, harder than I intended to. There’s a long pause and then I hear Dr. Gilbey say ‘Come’.
I open the door and step in. The same three high-backed chairs wait in the center of the room but now they’re empty. I scan the room and find her standing by one of the tall windows, looking out at the terrace. She turns to face me. In the scant light filtering through the silted windows she seems older. Her skin looks thin, fragile, almost translucent; like if it were to get much brighter you might be able to see clear through to the bones there. The ashen hair that frames her face is so fine that when she turns her head the contours of her skull show.
‘How long were you standing out there?’
‘Not long at all. I mean, I was just walking past.’ I turn to Hicks. ‘Can I see Mags now?’
There’s a moment of silence that draws out for longer than it should. Off in the distance lightning flashes across the darkening sky and for a second the light from it plays across the lenses of Dr. Gilbey’s narrow glasses. She exchanges a look with Hicks and it’s as if a large, dark void has suddenly opened up under my breastbone.
‘Gabriel, son, you’d best sit down. There’s something the Doc needs to tell you.’
I feel my throat tighten and for a moment I think I may not actually be able to breathe, but somehow I manage to stammer out a question.
‘What is it?’
Dr. Gilbey purses her lips.
‘You must prepare yourself, Gabriel. There’s been a terrible accident.’ But the voice that delivers this news is brusque, matter-of-fact. ‘I told Magdalene she had to stay in the dormitory but it seems she didn’t listen. For some reason she took it upon herself to break into the laboratory last night. I found her this morning.’
‘Gabriel, son, she’s been infected.’
*
THE ROOM SEEMS TO SPIN around me and it’s like I’ve been delivered straight into one of those nightmares where nothing’s right and you know it and all you want is to wake up but you can’t.
‘You need to bring me to her.’
Dr. Gilbey shakes her head.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Gabriel. Magdalene was quite distraught. I’ve had to give her something to help her rest. I don’t expect her to regain consciousness for a day or two.’
‘As soon as she comes round you can see her, son.’
Dr. Gilbey’s eyes narrow and she gives Hicks a sharp look, like this is not something she had approved. She tucks her lower lip, like she’s about to deliver a rebuke but Hicks cuts her off and in spite of what I’ve just heard gratitude wells up in me for him.
‘Ma’am, with all due respect the kid needs to see the girl. Until we know how this happened I don’t think you want to risk another accident in the lab, do you? When she comes to we’ll bring her out here.’
He turns back to me.
‘Son, I know this looks bad, but there’s hope. Doc’s close to a cure. And in the meantime she has medicine that can suppress the virus. Slow it way down.’
I look at Dr. Gilbey.
‘How long does she have?’
‘Unfortunately it’s very difficult to say, Gabriel. Right now her body is attempting to come to terms with the virus, but very soon it will try and reject it. When that happens Magdalene is going to become quite unwell.’
‘But she’s young, and healthy. That’s in her favor, right?’
‘Yes, Sergeant, that is indeed fortunate. The chances are that she will pull through.’
‘And then what?’
Dr. Gilbey folds her arms across her chest. She stares at me for a long moment before answering.
‘Well assuming she does indeed survive the initial infection the physical symptoms – the changes to hair color, the silvering of the retina – will manifest themselves. Given the pathology of the virus acute degradation in long-term memory then unfortunately becomes inevitable, even with the drugs I’ll be giving her. But I’ve had some success in staving off the more extreme changes to personality.’
She stops, like she’s done answering the question. I see Hicks’ jaw tighten, but when he speaks his tone is calm, patient, as though he’s grown used to drawing blood from this particular stone.
‘Ma’am, the kid needs a timeframe.’
Dr. Gilbey purses her lips, like she’s already provided all the information that could possibly be expected of her. But Hicks keeps squinting at her and in the end she just sighs.
‘Well, as long as she keeps taking the medication I dare say I can prevent her ultimate transformation for quite some time.’ She pauses, like this time she might not go on, but finally she continues. ‘For someone of Magdalene’s age, months, possibly even longer.’
I nod, like I’m taking all of this in, but in reality my mind’s reeling, still refusing to believe what I’ve just heard. I realize Hicks and Dr. Gilbey are both looking at me, like they’re expecting me to say something.
‘What can I do?’
Dr. Gilbey folds her arms across her chest and studies me. For a moment it’s like I can almost see the calculations being performed behind those cool, gray eyes.
‘Well, Gabriel, I have been working on a prototype for an antivirus. But before I can risk giving it to Magdalene it has to be tested.’
‘You need to help me find more furies, son. They have to be live ones though, functioning, like the one you ran into in that tunnel. The ones that had their circuits fried by what Kane did are no good to us.’
‘Is that what you were out looking for, when we ran into you?’
He nods.
‘We were on our way back from a hospital over in Catawba. Those are our best bet for finding what Doc needs. There’s places in them that would have been shielded, just like in the bunkers.’
Marv said we had to give the hospitals a wide berth. I always assumed it was on account of the bodies, but I guess he’d figured out what Hicks has.
‘How many do you need?’
She walks over towards me, her heels clicking on the checkerboard floor.
‘As many as you can get me, dear. The more I can test the antivirus the lower the risk to Magdalene when I give it to her.’
I look over at Hicks.
‘How many have you found so far?’
He pauses, like this isn’t an answer he much wants to give.
‘Not near enough.’
‘How many?’
‘Seven. Four that we’ve managed to bring back.’
‘And how many hospitals have you been to?’
‘Pretty much everything within a two-day hike of here.’ When he sees I need a number he adds: ‘Twenty-five.’
He scratches his jaw.
‘Yeah, it ain’t good. I’ll be honest with you son, the odds are long that a fury would have been hanging out in one of the shielded areas when the burst went off. Kane detonated the missiles at night, when most of them would have been out hunting. And there’s another thing, just so you know what you’d be signing up for.’
He looks up, fixing me with a stare from his one good eye, like this is something I need to pay attention to.
‘First few we caught we just walked up to them, zapped them with the baton and slipped a plastic gunny sack over their heads. It was all over long before they came out of whatever hibernation they put themselves in when they run out of food. Last couple of times they’ve come to much quicker. They’re getting to be a real handful.’
I think of the fury that chased me out of Mount Weather’s tunnel. Even the thought of going into whatever dark place we have to to find one of those things makes my blood run cold. But then I remember the last time I saw Marv. The sunken shadows around his eyes, his pupils impossibly dilated, flashing silver where the light caught them. The way his jaw worked, clenching and unclenching as he fought to control the madness that would soon be upon him.
I can’t let that happen to Mags.
‘How soon can we start?’
*
HE COMES TO SLOWLY.
Somebody’s calling to him. It sounds like the girl but he lies still, keeping his eyes closed, trying to decide if it’s a trick. There’s something poking into his side. It takes him a second to work out it’s the food tray. He can feel the ridges and hollows of the compartments through his overalls, the soft squelch as the congealed beans press into the thin material. The tray is uncomfortable but if he moves it hurts more, so he stays where he is.
He’s had the stick before, but not for a long time now, and never this much. He lets his mind go to all the places where he thinks the prongs may have found him. His ribs definitely got the worst of it, but there’s something wrong with his insides too; it feels like somebody’s scrambled them all up. He wonders how many times the soldier hit him. He doesn’t remember anything after the first one. The stick makes his mind go blank, like someone’s found the switch that turns him off and flicked it. The soldier normally loses interest soon after that happens. He doesn’t remember that from his own beatings, of course. By then he’s gone; he’s nothing; just a rag doll lying on the floor of the cage, with no more sense of what’s happening to him than a stuffed toy set upon by an agitated dog. But he’s seen the soldier use the stick on the others and afterwards he can feel all the places he’s been hit. Right now there’s too many to count. The soldier must have been really mad to keep working him like that.
The girl’s still calling to him. He opens his eyes a fraction. She’s sitting by the bars, clutching her side like that’s where it hurts too. And now he hears another sound: footsteps on the stairs outside, still faint, but getting closer. He starts the count, even though he doesn’t know how many he’s already missed. He realizes how close he is to the front of his own cage; he’ll get in trouble if the soldier finds him here. He picks himself up, keeping his movements as small as possible to avoid fresh flares of pain. The tray that’s stuck itself to his overalls detaches and clatters to the floor.
The girl must hear the sound because she shifts her head in his direction and asks if he’s okay. When he replies his voice is little more than a croaked whisper.
‘Yes, but we have to be quiet now. He’s coming back.’
He sees her nod in the darkness, like she finally understands. She moves away from the bars. That’s good; she’s learning. He slowly shuffles to
the back of his cage and presses himself into the corner to wait.
The soldier’s boots echo off the metal, growing louder as he descends. When he reaches the bottom there’s a pause and a click as the locks disengage and then a distant groan as the door opens. Somewhere at the end of the row of cages there’s the faintest glimmer of light and then the sound of the soldier’s boots scuffing the concrete, accompanied by something else: the hollow clack-clack-clack of plastic hitting plastic as he drags the stick along the bars. The beam’s getting brighter; it bounces along the aisle as he approaches. Johnny 99 pushes himself as far as he can into the shadows and tries not to cover his eyes. The cone of light stops outside his cage and then stretches out as the soldier places the flashlight on the ground. A plastic tray gets pushed through the slot in the front of his cage. The soldier uses the end of the stick to slide it forward, but he doesn’t withdraw it afterwards.
Johnny 99 eyes the prongs nervously. He doesn’t even want the food. He’d have no interest in it even if he hadn’t seen the remains of a wad of tobacco floating among the congealed beans. But in one of the tray’s compartments, next to his water, there’s the container with his medicine. The soldier rattles the stick impatiently against the sides of the slot but makes no move to pull it back.
‘C’mon 99. Don’t keep me waiting.’
The soldier will get annoyed if he doesn’t take his medicine but the metal prongs are only inches from the tray and he doesn’t want to go near them. He hesitates another moment and then reaches out as quickly as he can and snatches the container back into the darkness.
The soldier chuckles and then draws the stick back out. Johnny 99 unscrews the cap and drinks the contents. He gags as the bitter, metallic liquid hits the back of his throat and that causes a fresh burst of pain from his ribs but he presses his lips tight together and forces it down. The soldier will get really mad if he throws up the medicine and he has to go back up the stairs and get him another. He reaches for the plastic cup of water and washes the taste from his mouth. He’ll try and eat some of the food later, because that’s what you have to do so they’ll know you’re still okay and don’t need to go to the other room. But he doesn’t think he can manage any of it now.