Five Minds

by Guy Morpuss

  ‘I’ll take the left, you take the right,’ I say. ‘If we find her I still don’t see how we take her to the nurse. Are we meant to dig up a coffin with our bare hands?’

  ‘Let’s find her first,’ says Alex, brushing the encrusted dirt away from the nearest gravestone. ‘We’ve only got twelve minutes left.’

  It isn’t easy. Many of the inscriptions are virtually illegible. On others the gravestones have cracked or fallen and I have to turn heavy stones over before I can read what they say. Even if I find one called Mary there’s no guarantee it’s the right one. This feels hopeless.

  It is dirty and hot in the graveyard. About halfway through I pause to wipe sweat from my eyes and step into the small strip of shade next to one of the walls. Alex is kneeling in the dirt, twisting his head to read an inscription, a feral cat brushing against his legs.

  The door to the graveyard opens. Sierra looks out. She stares at us for a few seconds, then steps back inside and shuts the door. She clearly thinks we are looking in the wrong place.

  I rest a hand on the ivy-covered wall, and something moves beneath it. I brush away the ivy to find a metal plaque, now pinned to the wall by only one rusting screw. It comes off in my hand. I am about to throw it away when the name ‘Typhoid Mary’ catches my eye. I brush it clean.

  ‘TYPHOID MARY’

  THIS PLAQUE COMMEMORATES RIVERSIDE HOSPITAL’S MOST INFAMOUS RESIDENT, MARY MALLON (23 SEPTEMBER 1869–11 NOVEMBER 1938), AN ASYMPTOMATIC CARRIER OF THE TYPHOID FEVER PATHOGEN, POPULARLY KNOWN AS ‘TYPHOID MARY’. SHE WAS A COOK, AND IS BELIEVED TO HAVE CAUSED THE DEATHS OF AT LEAST THREE PEOPLE THROUGH TYPHOID INFECTION. FROM 1907 TO 1910, HAVING CAUSED THE DEATH OF ONE PERSON, SHE WAS HELD IN QUARANTINE AT RIVERSIDE HOSPITAL. ON HER RELEASE SHE RESUMED WORK AS A COOK AND CAUSED THE DEATHS OF AT LEAST TWO MORE PEOPLE. SHE WAS RETURNED TO NORTH BROTHER ISLAND IN 1915 AND REMAINED HERE UNTIL HER DEATH FROM PNEUMONIA IN 1938. HER BODY WAS CREMATED AND HER ASHES INTERRED AT SAINT RAYMOND’S CEMETERY IN THE BRONX.

  The last sentence strikes me like a blow. We know who she is now, but she is not buried here. We are wasting our time. We can’t take Typhoid Mary to the nurse. Maybe some part of her remains in the specimen room. But I don’t see how we can ever identify it.

  ‘Alex.’ I call him over and wordlessly hand him the plaque. He skims it and looks up.

  ‘I was right about her. But what do we do now?’ he says. ‘This is impossible. We only have eight minutes left.’

  ‘It must be the plaque,’ I say. ‘It represents her. We must be meant to take that to the nurse. There’s nothing else we can do.’

  The door opens and Sierra steps out, blinking in the sunlight. I hide the plaque behind my back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asks. ‘Have you taken up grave robbing? Have you found her?’

  ‘Find her yourself, bitch,’ I mutter under my breath as I edge past her and back into the ward, keeping the plaque out of sight. Sierra hesitates, then follows us. It doesn’t matter if she sees it now. If I’m right, the first person to deliver the plaque to the nurse wins.

  I walk swiftly down the length of the ward, between the beds and up to the nurse. Cats scuttle away and hiss as I move past, backs arched. I hear Alex and Sierra following. The nurse looks up at me. I drop the plaque on her desk.

  ‘There is it is,’ I say. ‘There is Typhoid Mary.’

  The nurse looks down at the rusted plaque, looks up at me, and shakes her head. ‘Bring me Typhoid Mary,’ she says.

  ‘This is all we can find!’ I shout. ‘There is no Typhoid Mary here.’

  She looks at me blankly. ‘Bring me Typhoid Mary.’

  ‘What’s that you’re hiding?’ says Sierra. She reaches round me and picks up the plaque. She skims it. ‘Sneaky. But wrong.’ She turns and hurries back through the door to the specimens room. That’s where she started. What did she spot the first time that we missed? Is there a list of the specimens somewhere? Or is it all a bluff?

  We’re running out of time.

  I pick up the plaque and look about for inspiration. The cat that was curled up on the nurse’s desk has been disturbed by the noise. It stands, stretches, and sneezes. There are patches of fur left on the papers where it was sleeping.

  I turn to Alex. He is looking up at the clock. ‘Five minutes,’ he says, his shoulders slumped.

  ‘Alex,’ I say. ‘What’s an asymptomatic carrier?’

  He takes the plaque from me and re-reads it. ‘It means someone who carries a disease but has no symptoms. Look, it says she died from pneumonia, not typhoid.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ I pick up the cat off the nurse’s desk, and thrust it at him. It squirms and jumps out of my hands, leaving me covered in fur. ‘Look at these cats. They’re all ill. Really ill. Something has infected them. Typhoid Mary isn’t a person. It’s a cat. We’re looking for the one cat in this place that is healthy. The one that is making the others ill.’

  Alex blinks at me, but seems unconvinced. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘We don’t have any other ideas,’ I say urgently. ‘It’s this or nothing. You check in here and I’ll check the graveyard. Be quick.’

  As I turn back towards the graveyard I see Sierra standing in the doorway to the specimens room. She was listening. She smiles at me. ‘Clever Kate. Thanks for that.’ She steps back into the room and I hear crashing glass. Why? Does she know something we don’t? If Typhoid Mary is in there then we lose.

  Three minutes left.

  Alex is racing round the ward, pulling at squealing cats, ignoring the patients that he is waking.

  I run the length of the ward, back to the graveyard.

  I race from headstone to headstone. I hadn’t realised before just how many cats there are. Some have curled up in the ivy clinging to the wall. I drag them out, squealing and fighting, getting scratched for my troubles. But they are all the same, mangy, dying, shedding fur.

  I am near the back to the graveyard, tearing the ivy from the walls. A cat is dislodged and falls from above, catching itself on my shoulder, claws scraping the length of my back. I throw it off me and return to my search.

  Then turn back.

  This cat hasn’t run away. It has jumped up on to a headstone and is staring at me, licking my blood from between its claws. Unlike the others this one is healthy and plump with a glossy black coat.

  I’ve found Typhoid Mary.

  I need to catch her.

  I move carefully towards her, but unlike the others she makes no effort to get away. I pick her up and she settles into my arms, purring softly.

  Gripping the cat firmly, I dash back through the door. Alex is kneeling on the floor, looking under a bed. He turns, startled.

  The clock above the nurse shows that we are down to the last minute.

  I sprint the length of the room, thrusting the black cat into the nurse’s arms.

  ‘Here you are. Here is Typhoid Mary.’

  The nurse takes the cat from me. It settles on to her lap, purring. She nods. Silently she gestures to the door behind her.

  I breathe out for what seems like the first time in ages. I look behind me. Sierra is again standing by the door to the specimen room. Shocked. Fear in her eyes. She knows what this means.

  I step past the nurse and open the door. Alex takes my hand and we walk through together.

  •

  Stage Two complete

  Winners:

  Mr Du Bois and Ms Bird

  Loser:

  Ms Summers

  •

  Godfried came to let me out of the game booth.

  ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘I’ve not seen the cat one before. It must be new. I didn’t get it.’

  ‘But I’m sure you made a nice bit of money out of my suffering,’ I said.

  ‘I didn’t. The club did, of course. I don’t get a choice. Time is all that counts here.’ He paused. ‘It’s all I’ve got to live for, anyway.’

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I didn’t really
care. He was on their side. It didn’t matter why. ‘So what happens now?’ I asked.

  ‘I guess you’re good to go. Guskov always keeps his word.’ He grimaced. ‘Your friend Sierra – not so good. There will be people who stay to watch, but I won’t be one of them. If it’s anything like what the doctor has done before it will last for days, and it won’t be pleasant. Honestly, I don’t know why we let him do this stuff here. But the boss never says no if there’s time to be had.’

  ‘The boss …’ I said. ‘So you were scamming me the other day when you pretended you weren’t going to tell him about me.’

  Godfried shrugged. ‘I do jobs for him sometimes. Pass on information if it has value. As I said, time is everything here. Look, I wasn’t going to tell Guskov about our meeting. But Doctor Bernard said he’d seen us, so I had no choice. Sorry. Come on – we’d better get back to the bar.’

  Alex and Sierra were there already. Alex stepped across to me and grasped my hands. ‘Kate,’ he said. ‘Thank God. We won. It’s finally over.’

  Sierra was standing next to Guskov. Vincent was behind her, gripping her wrists. She was struggling, but forced up on tiptoe. There was fear and anger in her eyes.

  ‘Fucking Kate,’ she said, spitting the words. ‘Here to watch me die?’

  I didn’t want to watch her die. Despite her lies, despite Mike and Ben, despite her attempts to kill us, my overriding feeling was one of pity. How had she come to this? Even after Montreal we had wanted to help her. We had tried to help her. But she wouldn’t change. I should have realised then that she didn’t want to. She couldn’t see beyond her own selfish, paranoid worldview. She saw us as her puppets, and when we finally stopped obeying her commands she had to be rid of us.

  Even so, she didn’t deserve to die at the hands of the doctor. No one did.

  Guskov stepped forward, turning to the audience.

  ‘Well, wasn’t that fun?’ he said. ‘Life and death and cats. The end of what I hope was an enjoyable week for all of you. Congratulations to our winners, Kate and Alex. They are free to leave. Commiserations to our loser, Sierra. I hope it’s some comfort to know that your time with the doctor will benefit medical science. Those of you who wish to stay may do so. Those of you who won their bets, Godfried will credit your accounts. We will be in touch in a few weeks when we have our next entertainment lined up.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I have your word? Alex and I are free to go?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course. You won.’

  ‘May I have a moment with Sierra?’

  Guskov looked surprised. ‘Yes. Say your goodbyes, if you must.’

  I walked over to her.

  ‘Just fuck off,’ she said. ‘I don’t need your pity.’

  But behind the bravado I could see that she was terrified.

  ‘This isn’t right,’ I said to her. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Next to her the doctor’s instruments were still open on the bar. I reached past her and grabbed a scalpel from the case. Before anyone could stop me I plunged it into her ribcage, where I thought her heart would be. It jammed on a bone, jarring my hand. I pushed harder. It sank deeper. I pulled upwards. Sierra gasped.

  Her eyes went wide. The andi released her. Her hands gripped my arms. She looked down at the scalpel sticking out of her chest, blood beginning to leak past it. Then smiled weakly.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  She fell into my arms, her grip weakening. Wet, sticky blood was pumping down the front of my shirt.

  Her eyes went blank.

  I sank to the ground with her in my arms.

  Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me away. Sierra collapsed face down on the floor. Blood seeped out from under her.

  I turned, angrily, but it was Stas who held me. I couldn’t escape his grip.

  Dr Bernard was on his feet, shrieking at me.

  ‘This is wrong! It’s too quick!’ he hissed. ‘I had days of experiments prepared for her.’ He pointed at me. ‘I want her instead.’

  Guskov looked at me. Then at the doctor.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I gave my word. She’s free to go.’

  ‘But she killed my … my … patient!’

  ‘I promised you the loser,’ said Guskov. ‘It’s not my fault if she didn’t stay alive long enough to indulge your sickness. You’ve already been well rewarded for your part in this.’

  The doctor stepped over to the bar, and started packing up his tools. ‘Fine,’ he said petulantly. ‘Don’t expect me to ever come back again.’

  Guskov laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, Doctor. We both know that you have nowhere else to go.’

  He turned to me.

  ‘Ms Weston, Mr Du Bois. I suggest you leave before I change my mind. This may not have gone as planned, but it has at least been entertaining for my guests. My agreement with Ms Summers is now at an end. This concludes our relationship.’

  He paused and studied Sierra’s still corpse. Then he looked across at Dr Bernard, who was angrily doing up his instrument case, muttering under his breath.

  ‘Doctor,’ Guskov called to him. ‘Wait a moment.’

  Bernard turned back to him, case clutched in his arms. There was hope in his eyes.

  My heart sank. Was Guskov going to give us up?

  ‘Doctor,’ he said softly, amusement in his voice. ‘Don’t leave just yet. You seem to have forgotten one of your knives.’

  ALEX

  DAY FIVE

  16:04–16:45

  The climb to the penthouse suite in the high-rise was a struggle. Kate was out of it, barely able to drag herself up each flight of stairs. For the second day in a row she was covered in blood. She was shaking. Again, I ended up carrying her most of the way. She hadn’t spoken since the club.

  When we reached the room she slumped into an armchair, breathing hard.

  I went to get her a glass of water. ‘How are you doing?’ I asked, as she gulped it down.

  ‘Not great. That was awful. Whatever Sierra did to us, she didn’t deserve to be tortured to death. I had no choice.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t have had the courage to do that. But you took a big risk. Guskov could have killed us both.’

  She leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. ‘Godfried said that he keeps his word. I trusted that. And she was still Sierra. Whatever she’d done, she was part of us for twenty-five years. She was fun. She gave us perspective. It was grotesque what they had planned for her, even if it was her own doing. I couldn’t let her die like that.’

  ‘Don’t forget she would happily have handed us over to the doctor. That was the whole point of the final game. It was what she had been planning all along.’

  ‘What did we do that made her hate us so? She seemed to be paranoid that we were going to kill her first.’ She looked down at herself. ‘Sierra’s blood. We kill people in the arenas and it feels like nothing. This was different. So personal. You know she thanked me at the end?’

  I shook my head. ‘That still doesn’t make her a good person. It was us or her.’

  ‘I know.’ Kate stood. ‘I need to get cleaned up.’

  She closed the door to the bathroom and I lay back on the bed. I could hear her through the thin door as she turned on the shower. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out what had happened in the club. Sierra had got what she deserved. But Kate was right. It had all been too personal. Too visceral.

  It was over. But in some ways it was only just beginning.

  Kate emerged ten minutes later, swearing under her breath, her hair dishevelled, wrapped in a towel. To me she had never looked more beautiful.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘The bloody printer’s stopped working. I’ll have to go and find one in another room. My clothes are in no state to be worn again.’

  ‘I’ll go find one in a minute,’ I said. ‘I know your size. First, come sit here. We need to talk.’ I patted the bed next to me. My heart was racing.

  �
�All right,’ she said slowly. She looked at me, puzzled, and slid carefully on to the bed, pulling down the hem of her towel. ‘What is it? You look very serious suddenly.’

  I turned to her and took a deep breath. I took one of her hands in mine. She looked down at it, and then up at me, sharply.

  ‘What …?’ she began.

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Kate, these last few days have been awful. The worst of our lives. But in other ways they have been the best. I’ve got to spend time with you in ways that I never thought were possible. Some of it was fun.’

  She looked troubled. ‘Where is this going?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been good at asking people out. I didn’t tell you, but it was Emily who asked me out. In Montreal, when we first met.’

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What does that matter? There must have been others since.’ She laughed. But it was a strained laugh.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Until now.’

  Kate shifted back in the bed, away from me. She pulled her hand free.

  ‘Alex, I don’t know what you’re thinking. Yes, we had a bit of fun. But it wasn’t real. And most of it wasn’t fun. People died. I killed people. I’ve spent the last ten minutes washing Sierra’s blood off me.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘But we didn’t die. We won. And I felt something. Remember the game show. We were good as a couple.’

  ‘That was a game, Alex. Nothing more.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s all it was?’ I leaned in towards her. I could feel her breath on my face. She was breathing fast. One hand was clutching the top of her towel, pressing it to her chest, the other was holding down the hem. Her fists were clenched.

  I put a hand on her bare shoulder.

  ‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  I hesitated, and her hand struck my chest, pushing me away. Her towel was slipping. I resisted. There was fear now in her eyes as she scrabbled backwards.