by Aaron Hodges
“This one’s feisty,” the guard commented as he tossed her onto Ashley’s bed.
Before Liz could free herself, the weight of the guard landed on her back. An awful helplessness welled in her as she tried and failed to shift his weight. Pain lanced from her scalp again as the guard yanked her head back, forcing her to look at them.
“Stay still,” the guard growled in her ear.
“Please don’t do this,” Ashley pleaded from the floor.
The thud of a boot striking flesh silenced her desperate words. A low groan followed. Liz twisted again, trying to get a glimpse of her friend, but the white coat of a doctor moved to block her view. Looking up, she saw Doctor Radly staring down at her.
“Enough,” Radly’s tone brooked no argument.
Unlike Halt, Radly did not appear to take any joy in their pain. Rather, he didn’t seem to care about their comfort one way or another. He moved around the cell with a cold efficiency, retrieving the stoppered vial from the hands of another doctor. Lifting a nasty looking syringe, he eyed the thick needle for a second before driving it through the vial’s rubber stopper. Then he drew back the plunger, watching as the liquid disappeared into the syringe.
“Doctor Faulks,” Radly addressed someone standing just outside of Liz’s view. “This is the PERV-A strain?”
“Yes,” a woman’s reply came quickly. “We’ve already finished with the B strain. The rest are marked down for PERV-A.”
Nodding, Radly turned back to Liz. “Hold her,” Liz shuddered as the guard shifted, taking a firmer hold of her shoulders.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Radly approach, his gloved hands holding the syringe in a gentle grip. Then he disappeared from her line of vision. Seconds later firm hands tugged at her pants, and a cold breeze blew across her backside. She tensed, pushing back against her assailant’s relentless strength.
A sigh came from behind her. “This will go easier for you if you relax, Ms Flores.”
Hearing her last name sent a bolt of shock through Liz. For a second she hesitated, then bit off a string a profanity that would have made her father blush.
Another sigh, then a cold cloth pressed against her butt-cheek. A shiver raced up her spine, more shock from the violation than from the cold. A low, guttural growl built in her throat, and the guard’s knee pressed harder into the small of her back. But she no longer cared. A desperate horror was growing within her, an awful fear, a need to break free.
She screamed again, writhing and bucking beneath the guard, straining to shift his weight.
A sudden pinch came from her naked backside, followed by a cool pressure that spread quickly across her cheek. It was gentle at first, a cold numbness that tingled as it went. But it quickly warmed, like a fire gathering heat, until her muscles were aflame from its touch. The tingle raced outwards, spreading the numbing sensation to her legs and arms.
Liz gasped, fighting back against the pain, desperate to fend it off. She gritted her teeth, tensing against its relentless spread. The pressure on her back vanished as the guard released her, but by then she barely noticed. Her attention was elsewhere, her focus fixed on the waves of sensation rippling through her body.
Then as though a switch had been flicked, the muscles down the length of her back locked in a sudden cramp. Pain unlike any she’d experienced closed around her, walling her off from the world, trapping her in the iron arms of its cage. Her eyes snapped open, but all she saw were stars, whirling through her vision, blinding in their brilliance. In the distance she heard a scream, a girl’s voice tearing at the blackness of her mind, but she could do nothing to help her now.
Agony engulfed her body, her mind, her very soul.
19
Cold.
The thought filtered through the thick sludge of Chris’s mind, parting the darkness like a curtain. Then it was all around him, wrapping his body in an icy blanket, turning his breath to ragged gasps. A shiver caught him, rippling down his body, throwing off the last dredges of sleep.
Frozen air burned his nostrils as he inhaled, bringing with it the familiar tang of bleach. But there was more to the scent now, an underlying stench of rot and decay that made his stomach swirl. Opening his mouth, he tasted the metallic reek of blood and vomit on the air.
Sound quickly followed the return of his taste and smell. His ears tingled, catching the murmur of a breath, the creak of metal joints moving beneath restless bodies, the hiss of an air conditioner. From somewhere in the room came the rattle of chains, the familiar whine of the overhead lights.
I’m alive, the words whispered in Chris’s mind, though he couldn’t quite recall why that surprised him.
Keeping his eyes closed, Chris sucked in another breath, struggling to restore the shattered pieces of his consciousness. Dimly he remembered the fire burning up his spine, spreading to his chest, filling his lungs. But there was no pain now, only the dull ache of his muscles, as though they had lain unused for countless days.
How long? His brow creased.
How long had he lain there, unconscious, in the clutches of whatever drug the doctors had given him?
Sounds echoed from all around him, growing louder as he lay there, echoing as though from a wide expanse. Chains rattled as he moved his arms, and he felt the cold touch of steel restraining his wrists. Without opening his eyes, he realised he had been handcuffed to the bed.
Apparently they were still taking no chances with their patients.
Memories drifted through the darkness of his thoughts, rising as though from a fog. Images of the fight flashed by, the crack as Sam fell to a baton, the thud of Ashley hitting the floor. He had not seen what happened to Liz, not until the guards had overwhelmed him, and he’d found her curled up in the corner.
Helpless, he had watched as Liz was lifted onto the bed and injected. Her screams had been instant and horrifying, so deafening even the guards had retreated from her. Her agony tore at his soul, begged for him to save her from the monsters. But he had been powerless against the raw strength of the men on either side of him.
His heart beat harder as thoughts of the girl rose in his mind. A sense of urgency took him, and he shifted his arms, testing the movement allowed by the handcuffs. The links rattled as he ran a hand along the chain, and found where the handcuffs attached to a guard rail running horizontally along the side of his bed.
Other sounds came to him now: the beeping of a nearby machine, the whir of a pump, the hiss of air escaping tubes. Listening, he heard the steady beeps accelerating, matching the racing of his heart.
Somewhere in the room, a door banged. Chris froze, his fingers still clenched around the metal bar. The soft tread of footsteps moved through the room, followed by voices.
“Has the danger passed?” Halt’s voice came from Chris’s right.
“We think s.” He recognised Fallow, though her voice was strained, exhausted. “It was a close thing though. I told you it wasn’t ready.”
“Perhaps,” Halt replied. “But we expected losses. Despite our best efforts, some of the candidates were simply too weak to withstand the morphological alterations.”
“We lost forty percent!” Chris winced as Fallow’s voice cracked. He heard a long inhalation of breath, before she continued in a calmer voice. “I expected mortality to be less than fifteen. As it is, we barely have a viable population… If we’d had more time…”
“More time?” Halt laughed. “That is the cry of a coward, Fallow! More time, more money, always more something!” he took a breath. “As Archimedes once said: ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I will move the earth.’ But we only have the time and resources the government has provided us with. And our time is up.”
“The government will not be satisfied with a forty percent mortality rate, Halt,” Fallow growled.
“No,” came the head doctor’s swift reply. “But if the survivors show promise, you will have won the time you need to find perfection, Fallow.”
Silence f
ollowed. Slowly their footsteps came closer. Listening to the beep of the machine beside him, Chris held his breath, struggling to slow his racing heart.
“And have we succeeded, Fallow?” Halt’s voice was eager.
It was a while before the woman replied. “The results are mixed. Tissue samples taken over the last few weeks have shown steady integration between the host chromosomes and the viral DNA. Candidates who received the PERV-B strain have advanced more rapidly than PERV-A, and now show complete integration. However, we are yet to determine whether the altered genomes are expressing correctly.”
“Excellent,” there was unmasked glee in Halt’s voice. “When do you expect them to be ready to test genome expression?”
“We’ve taken them off the immunosuppressants, and so far, they have shown no adverse reactions. We expect them to begin waking from their comas over the next few days. Once they’re conscious, we can begin testing their basic motor skills and cognitive function, to determine whether the virus had any degenerative effects…” Fallow trailed off as Halt snorted.
“We don’t have time to waste on your procedures, Fallow. We need results.”
“I don’t see how–” Fallow began.
“Don’t give me that, Fallow,” Halt snapped. “You know very well there is no need for those tests. As far as the directors are concerned, we have either succeeded or failed. There is only one test the candidates need to pass to show that.”
There was a long pause before Fallow replied. “Halt…” her voice was entreating now. “That’s simply not possible. They’ve been unconscious for weeks. The recovery time alone… They’re in no condition–”
“If the experiment succeeded, recovery time should not be an issue,” Halt’s voice sounded like he was just a few feet away. “Look, this one appears to be conscious.”
On the bed, a tingle raced up Chris’s spine. Silently he held his breath, fighting the instinct to leap from the bed and flee. His arms prickled as goose bumps spread along his skin.
“You’re right,” Fallow’s murmur seemed to come from directly overhead. “Her heartbeat has recovered to normal levels.
A girl’s cry tore the air, followed by the angry rattle of chains. Chris cracked his eye open a fraction, desperate to see what was happening. Pain shot through his skull as white light streamed between his eyelids, momentary blinding him. Then the light faded and the room clicked into sudden focus. Beyond the rails of his bed, rows of beds stretched out across a wide room, each occupied by an unconscious patient dressed in green scrubs. A tangle of tubes and wires wrapped around each body like a spider web spun around a fly. From the brief glimpse he caught, Chris guessed there were some thirty beds, though many were empty.
The girl Halt and Fallow were discussing was sitting up in the hospital bed directly across from Chris. Her back was turned to him, and she had both arms chained to the bed. Curly black hair tumbled down the back of her scrubs, and with a shiver of recognition, Chris realised it was Liz.
She’s alive!
Chris struggled to muffle his sharp intake of breath. Beside him, the beep of the machine started to race. Silently he clenched the sidebar of his bed until his palms hurt. Through the shadows of his eyelashes, he watched Halt move to stand over Liz.
“Incredible.” Halt was studying the machine beside Liz’s bed. Lines and numbers flashed across the screen, he guessed providing readings from the long tubes and wire that covered Liz. “Look at her vitals.”
Fallow stood in silence beside him, shadows ringing her eyes, her lips pursed tight.
Halt shook his head and looked at her. “I would say she is fully recovered, wouldn’t you, Doctor Fallow.”
Reluctantly Fallow nodded, a look of resignation coming over her face.
“Excellent, then I see no reason to delay. Get her ready.”
Blood pounded in Chris’s head as a sudden rage swept through him. He didn’t know what Halt had planned for Liz, what fresh horror he had in store, but he refused to lie quietly while she faced it alone. Whatever happened, they were still in this together. For all he knew, Sam and Ashley might already be gone, but Liz still lived. He would not lose her now.
“Leave her alone,” he growled, sitting up in the bed.
On the other bed, Liz turned towards him, her eyes widening with shock. Behind her, Fallow’s face seemed to crumple, while a grin spread slowly across Halt’s face. In that instant, Chris felt a pit open in his stomach; a sudden realisation he had made a terrible mistake.
Still, it was worth it to see the relief sweep across Liz’s face.
“Excellent.” Halt clapped his hands. “Bring him too. It may even the odds.”
20
Liz shivered as Fallow unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. Blinking, she stared at the woman’s face. Her features faded in and out of focus, and a bolt of nausea swept through her stomach. She wrapped a hand around the sidebar to steady herself and blinked again.
“Are you okay?” Liz flinched as a hand touched her shoulder.
“Don’t!” she growled, leaning back.
Closing her eyes, Liz willed her stomach to settle, then opened them again. To her relief, the features of Fallow’s face finally snapped into place. She blinked again, surprised to see the dark rings beneath the woman’s eyes, the patchwork of tiny cracks across the skin of her cheeks, the thin red capillaries threading her eyes. Her head swam; she had never noticed such detail in someone’s face before.
“I’m sorry.” Liz’s ears twitched at the sound, before a harsh shriek cut through the words.
She recoiled and slapped her hands over her ears. Distantly she heard the doctor’s voice over the ringing. A hand reached for her, but she twisted, falling sideways on the bed. Fallow paused, staring down at her, and then retreated a step.
Slowly the ringing died away, and Liz finally removed her hands from her ears.
“I’m sorry,” Fallow’s voice was a whisper now, but she heard it with perfect clarity, “How do you feel?”
Grating her teeth, Liz shook her head and looked across at Chris. As their eyes met her heart gave a lurch, and she felt again the relief that had swept through her when he’d sat up.
He’s alive!
Despite the apparent odds against them, somehow the two of them had survived whatever demented experiment the doctors had performed on them. Beside her, Fallow had busied herself removing the various tubes and wires that had been hooked up to the machine. Swallowing the surge of hate clogging her throat, Liz faced her.
“Why are you doing this?” Liz could not keep the resignation from her voice.
Fallow sighed, her eyes closing a moment before she looked at Liz. “You’ll find out soon enough, Elizabeth.”
Liz stared at the grief shining from Fallow’s eyes. Despite herself, Liz felt pity for the woman. Even so, the doctor’s words triggered a sense of foreboding within her, and she pressed on, desperate to exploit the woman’s weakness.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “Halt’s gone. You could let us go, unlock these collars.”
A faint smile twitched at Fallow’s lips. “A tempting proposition,” she shook her head. “They’d kill you both before you even reached the front door. Then they would come for me.” Her amber eyes locked on Liz. She stared back in silent appeal. But Fallow only smiled and continued on with false humour. “Besides, you are the culmination of my life’s work.”
“What about our lives?” Chris’s snarl came from behind Liz. “What right–”
He broke off as Fallow raised a hand. She shook her head again, her smile fading. “You know the law, Christopher. Your mother was found guilty of treason. In due time, she will answer for those crimes. As her son, you would have faced the same fate.”
Even to Liz, Fallow’s words sounded hollow, spoken like they left a bad taste in her mouth. Even so, after that the woman ignored their pleas. Moving across to Chris, she removed the cuffs and wires. Within a few minutes she had them on their feet and
staggering around the room like senior citizens.
Liz’s legs trembled with each step, refusing to obey the simplest instructions. A dull ache was quickly spreading up her hamstrings, and several times she had to grab at neighbouring beds to steady herself. Chris was no better; managing to knock over a series of machines within two steps of leaving his bed, after which he promptly crashed to the linoleum floor.
From the corner of her eyes, Liz caught movement from several of the beds, but the doctor was too preoccupied with Chris to notice. Steadying herself, she took a moment to search the room for Ashley and Sam. But as the fluorescent light caught in her eyes she found their focus shifting again, and the room began to blur. By the time her vision cleared, Fallow was already shepherding them towards the doorway.
Outside, Liz’s legs finally began to obey, though they remained stiff and sore. Chris was steadily improving too, but he still needed her shoulder to keep moving down the narrow corridor. Two guards stood on either side of the door to the room, but they made no move to follow them. Fallow kept pace several feet behind them though, no doubt ready to use the collars should they place a foot out of line.
Step by faltering step, they made their way through the facility, obeying Fallow’s direction whenever they came to an intersection of corridors. After a few turns, Chris could walk unaided, though it was a while before he managed more than a slow stumble. Fortunately for him, the doctor did not seem to be in any hurry.
But despite their slow pace, the journey could not last forever, and far too little time had passed before they found themselves outside a familiar white door. Liz shivered as she recognised it, memories of her fight with Joshua spiralling through her mind.
She turned as Fallow spoke from behind them. “Go in.”
Wordlessly, Liz shook her head. Dread wrapped around her stomach as she reached out and took Chris’s hand. Together they faced the doctor, standing straight now, the strength slowly returning to their limbs.