Guinea Pig

by Curtis, Greg

  So while the heavy artillery readied themselves in case of an escape attempt, the soldiers formed up into their squads and waited for the order to storm the ruined hospital. To find out why the alarm had sounded. And then to stop whatever was happening that had set it off.

  The first squad, a team of thirty heavily armed and highly trained soldiers, geared up and prepared for action. It was overkill of course. Normally a team would be six or eight men and they wouldn't be carrying the weapons they were. But everyone was nervous and the orders to form up had been given.

  The attack was to come from the front car park. Since the back of the building was damaged it was the only way in without crawling through piles of rubble or digging. So the men lined up and checked their weapons as they waited for the order to be given. High explosive bullets, grenade launchers, heavy calibre machine guns and so forth. Whatever they hit would not be getting up again. It would be in pieces.

  And once they were ready they stood there waiting for the captain to join them and give the order. But he was still on the sat-phone with their bosses elsewhere, being given the details of whatever had happened.

  Suddenly an old woman appeared in front of them. Stepping out of the front door of the hospital's huge glass atrium, wearing a summer dress as if she was there to enjoy a walk in the park, and smiling as if nothing was wrong. For a moment everyone was shocked, wondering who she was and where she'd come from. Wondering what to do. After all you didn't kill harmless old ladies with long white hair. The soldiers stared at her and each other, and then they looked to the captain who was also standing there staring, waiting for some sort of order. But the white haired woman didn't wait for him to give it.

  “People.” She smiled some more as she addressed them. “Is this really what you want to do? To go in and murder an innocent man chained to a bed? Wouldn't you rather be home with your families and loved ones?”

  “Grab her!”

  The captain bellowed the order from the comms tent where he was still standing with the sat phone in his hands. Actually he screamed it at them a little hysterically, and instantly three men rushed towards her. But then they stopped suddenly, barely three steps towards her. Caught in mid stride and unmoving. Held there by a force they didn't understand. But they did understand one thing immediately. The little old lady was no harmless civilian. She was the enemy.

  “Shoot her!” The captain yelled the order and instantly they obeyed. They might have had doubts even having seen what she could do, but their training gave them no choice. So they started firing. Fingers squeezed hard on triggers, bullets began flying, smoke and flame billowed forth from their weapons, and for a second the entire courtyard seemed to become a blaze of battle and death. But that was only an appearance.

  It took them a while to realise it. But as they kept firing, some of them slowly noticed that their bullets weren't hitting the woman. Even through the thick smoke and the explosions and fire, they could see she was still standing there smiling at them, her summer dress fluttering about in the gentle breeze. In time more and more of them realised the same thing and one by one gave up firing. What was the point if you couldn't hit your target?

  Then when the smoke cleared they realised that they hadn't hit her at all. Not once. She was still smiling, there was no blood on her, her dress wasn't even torn.

  Stranger still the soldiers could see a curved line of spent bullets lying on the ground in front of them. A curved line half way between them and the woman which told them exactly where their bullets had stopped flying. They knew it because the remains of the bullets had gathered around it, and were in fact piling up against it almost as though it was a wall. An invisible wall that bent around her. On the other side of course there was only the courtyard – and an old woman who was starting to look a little annoyed.

  “Now really ladies and gentlemen!” She put her hands on her hips and stood up a little straighter like an annoyed school mistress. “Is this the way you greet people?”

  “Retreat!” The captain gave the order sounding even more hysterical than before. But he wasn't alone. Everyone else was feeling the same. In all their training and drills this had never happened. They had never expected it, never prepared for it. Not for little old ladies with invisible shields around them. “Fall back and let the artillery speak!”

  It was a good plan, the best one they had under the circumstances, and everyone obeyed. Even the three men who had been somehow caught in mid stride obeyed as they were released from whatever had held them. So they ran for their back lines in what was supposed to be an organised retreat but which was really a panicked rout. And the instant they reached them the artillery spoke.

  Tanks fired, people with rocket launchers and RPG's joined them, and even short range missiles were unleashed on the woman, and the entire car park in front of the hospital became an inferno. A continuing explosion of fire and violence which nothing could survive. But in the end it did no more damage to the white haired old woman in the flowing summer dress than the bullets. There was a wall of nothing between them and her and it seemed that nothing could cross it.

  One by one the guns fell silent and the rockets stopped firing. The inferno of flames and noise quietened down. And slowly the woman reappeared from the smoke, still standing there unharmed. And the invisible wall was still standing there, so much more clearly defined as the pile of bullets, twisted steel, blackened shell remains and rubble had now piled several feet high against it. While on the other side there was still only bare courtyard and the white haired woman.

  She was by then starting to look very, very annoyed.

  “If you've quite finished children!” She had waited until there was complete silence before speaking, probably so that there could be no argument later that they hadn't heard her. And everyone there understood that she wanted to be heard.

  “Now pay attention and bring this message back to your masters. William Simons is not to be touched. There will be no more trying to kill him. No more trying to take samples from him. No more chains and imprisonment. No more restricting him in any way. He does not concern you humans.”

  “Remember that. He is no concern of yours.” She did something then, a minor flick of her fingers and maybe there was a tiny change in her expression. Perhaps her lips even moved slightly. None of them could really say what she did, or really even if she did anything at all. But they could all see the results of her actions.

  Fog.

  Thick fog suddenly began descending on them from out of the clear blue sky. Another impossibility in a series of impossibilities. But no one was willing to say that. Not after everything else that had just happened. Impossible had become the norm for them lately.

  Soon the woman was gone, disappeared into the thick grey cloud that was everywhere, and despite it being wrong, most of the soldiers knew a sense of relief at seeing her vanish. Maybe it meant nothing. It didn't mean that she was necessarily gone. But it did mean that they didn't have to stare at an old woman with long white hair who had just defeated their best weapons without lifting a finger. And maybe it also meant that if they couldn't see her she couldn't see them either. There was some comfort in that.

  “Oh, and go home to your families. This is a very frightening time for them and they need you.”

  Her voice came out of nowhere. From in front of them and behind, to both sides and even above. Instantly hearts started racing again, and they all started desperately spinning around like tops trying to find her, despite her peaceful words. But at least no one shot at her. They couldn't, not even those who had bullets left in their guns. They couldn't when they couldn't see her and didn't even know where her voice was coming from.

  But wherever she was they knew one thing. She wasn't gone.

  Chapter Thirty Two.

  “I don't get it? Where did that fog come from?”

  As they finally drove out of the underground car park and discovered the fog on both sides of the driveway, Sister Etta asked the obvious q
uestion. But maybe not the most obvious one Reginald thought. How could there even be thick fog on both sides of the driveway out of the parking level and yet not on the driveway itself? Or for that matter as he sat in the back of the ambulance holding William down and making sure that he wasn't knocked about too much by the ride, why was it just on both sides of the road? Looking ahead through the front of the ambulance he could see a straight stretch of road ahead of them, complete with white walls of fog lining its sides. That wasn't natural.

  “Who cares? Just drive Pastor!”

  James was a practical man, and he seemed to have a clear grasp of things where the rest of them didn't. And they had to drive. After having spent far too long trying to navigate their way out of the underground car park they were all worried. There could be soldiers right behind them.

  Fairly quickly Elijah had them moving down the fog lined road at a steady clip, though nowhere near as fast as they wanted to go. But the simple fact of the matter was that the road was full of holes, wrecked cars and hunks of rock that had once been lava bombs. They had to weave their way around the obstacles and in places it was quite tricky. In fact in some places they were down to first gear and everyone was nervous each time they started crawling. Worried that the military would be chasing them down in their hummers.

  Reginald though wasn't so worried. Not when he looked out the back window and saw the fog settling in behind them, covering their trail. It seemed that their escape was being aided in some way. That no one would be giving chase as they couldn't see them. He told the others the same.

  It was the who, how and why that he didn't get. And it troubled him.

  He'd spent years in his lab, working night and day and thinking he was doing God's work. And in all that time he'd never doubted, never known a moment of uncertainty. This would have been nothing to him back then. Just more proof that he was doing what he was meant to. But then he'd finally spoken to William, and the terrible truth had hit him. He wasn't walking with God. He was walking with madness and delusion. He had caused an innocent man terrible suffering. And the fog helping them made absolutely no sense to that older, wiser and guilt ridden man. If he was walking with madness why were they being helped?

  And it was obvious that they were being helped. This was no capricious whim of chance. Someone was covering their tracks, hiding them, and letting them make a clean getaway. Someone with inhuman power.

  He had no answer of course though he wanted one. And he desperately wanted to believe that he'd been right the first time. That he had been guided. But the quiet moans of his patient said otherwise.

  William was in pain. Not the terrible pain he had been in after the attack. His injuries were almost completely healed. In fact the scans could barely even show a trace of them any more. The pain he was suffering was from the transformation as his body slowly shed the last parts of his humanity. His mind too. William Simon did not want this. He had never wanted it. And Reginald had forced it upon him against his will. That was not the act of a man of God. It was the act of a man who had lost all reason.

  But now that he had recovered some of his reason, Reginald remembered the plan.

  “We should turn right up ahead. My lab is about five miles south of here.” And there he had all the medical equipment they would need to help William as his transformation continued apace.

  “Ahh Doctor, I don't think we're turning right.” Reginald looked up as Elijah told him the news, and briefly wondered why. As did the others. They had a plan. They'd agreed to it. Why was he changing it?

  Then came the next question; why was the ambulance slowing down? Reginald looked to the road ahead thinking that there must be some sort of obstacle ahead, but his view was obscured by the partition between the front and the back and by the high seat backs. If there was something blocking their path he couldn't see it.

  The ambulance came to a sudden stop and Reginald's heart almost stopped with it as he worried that their escape had just ended. That despite the fog and the evidence that someone was helping them, that the road was so badly blocked that they couldn't go any further. But he didn't ask. Neither did any of the others as they sat squashed together like sardines in the back of the ambulance. Probably because they didn't want to know.

  Then the passenger door suddenly opened. James hadn't opened it though. He was just sitting in the seat staring to his side, and while Reginald couldn't see his face through the back of the seat he had a horrible feeling it would be screwed up in horror. Could they have run into a check point of some sort? Were armed soldiers about to pull them out and maybe execute them?

  “Scoot over you.”

  A woman's voice came from up the front, and whatever else it was it didn't sound like the command an angry soldier would give. It sounded like a friend wanting to get in. And strangely Reginald thought, it also sounded like a voice he knew.

  James quickly did as he was told without saying a word and they all watched as he unbuckled his seat belt and wriggled across to the middle seat as someone climbed in. The woman presumably. But Reginald could see nothing of her, just a quick flash of white hair as she sat down. She was too short for her head to rise above the back of the seat.

  “Drive on please. A place has been prepared for you.”

  Immediately the pastor did as he was asked, still without saying a word, while James was busy fumbling with his seat belt and they took off again, driving down the fog lined road. The rest of them just looked at one another, wondering what was happening.

  Eventually Reginald decided he had to find out since no one else was going to.

  “Ahh, hello?”

  “Doctor! It's good to see you again.” The woman turned around to stare back at him through the seats, and immediately she did he knew her.

  “Agent?”

  It was her. He knew her face. He knew her white hair. But he had no idea what she was doing there or what she could possibly have to do with the fog.

  “Sort of, though perhaps not an agent for the people you thought I was. But we can discuss your fraudulent activities another time.” She grinned as if it was some sort of joke, and maybe it was. After everything else a fraud charge was almost an afterthought. But he still didn't understand.

  “How? Why are you here? And how are you controlling the fog? And who are you?” The questions just poured out of him.

  “Well I'm Elia and I don't think you could understand the answers to the other questions. Just accept that my friends and I are helping you. We want William's transformation to go smoothly so that he can finally do what he must.”

  “Oh Lord!”

  The Bishop suddenly started praying loudly and a little hurriedly and Reginald wondered why. He didn't understand who the woman was or how she was doing what she was doing. But she didn't seem terribly frightening. Unless she was going to put him in jail for fraud.

  “Bishop Benenson, there's no need for fear. I am not one of the Fallen as you call my disobedient siblings. But nor am I one of the Choir either. I'm just here to help. As are my brothers and sisters.”

  Immediately she said it there was a thump on the roof, and they all jumped. And then when they looked they could see a pair of legs hanging over the edge of the windscreen as they drove. Someone was sitting on the roof! While they were driving!

  Reginald would have asked except at that point he heard several more thumps and when he looked out the side windows he could see more feet hanging down. Apparently they had a number of passengers. What he couldn't figure out was how they were landing on the roof of a moving ambulance.

  She said she wasn't of the Fallen. And she wasn't of the Choir. Two names he knew to be types of angels. Could she also be an angel? He didn't want to ask.

  “If you're not one of the Fallen then why are you helping us?” The bishop had stopped praying at least, but his question made little sense, at least to the doctor.

  “You think the Fallen are helping you?” The woman sounded surprised. “The Fallen have been trying
to kill William here ever since the doctor infected him with our essence. Haven't you realised that every attack has been aimed right at him?”

  “What?!”

  The bishop was caught by surprise and he wasn't the only one. Reginald was stunned. They had an enemy. Finally, someone to blame for everything that had happened to the city. And it made sense. Sort of.

  Reginald had never understood how William could be causing all these disasters. It just wasn't in his nature to do such things. Besides which he didn't have that sort of power. But if instead he was the target and others with much more power were trying to kill him, well that explained a lot. Except of course as to why they were trying to kill him. He asked.

  “Because they're scared of him of course.”

  Her explanation struck the doctor as somewhat ironic considering they were having to help the man escape the military. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”