by Toni Cox
We edge along the Engen’s shop, then sprint across the road, and press ourselves to the palisade fence surrounding the lab. The turnstile is unlocked, and we go through, one by one.
Beyond the van, there is another gate. It’s closed, but not locked. We push it open just enough for us to squeeze through, and then follow the building around to the back.
There are cars there, but no people. Stairs lead to a door, so we go up and test the handle. It’s unlocked. I shrug and go in.
A red emergency light illuminates the passage just enough for us to see where we’re going. We follow it, weapons drawn, not daring to make a noise.
I can see an intersection coming up, and I turn to ask where the others think we should go. Before I get a chance to speak, I see their eyes widen in surprise, and then something smacks me over my head, hard.
It’s the last thing I remember before I pass out.
Chapter 12
We are tied to each other in an empty room, a single lantern the only source of light. My head hurts like hell. I can feel the dried blood in my hair.
“Where are we?” My throat is dry.
“They dragged us here after they knocked you out. Two guys in HazMats. They have automatic weapons,” Andrew tells me.
“Did they say anything?” My head throbs.
“One of them said they'd come back for us later,” Bronwyn says.
“How long have we been here?”
“Maybe an hour or so.”
I try to move my arms, but the movement makes Bronwyn cry out. I feel it, too, now. The bonds are so tight; the blood has pooled in my hands. Every movement hurts.
“We’ve tried,” Andrew says. “They’re too tight. We can’t get loose.”
“Shit.”
Guilt gnaws at me for getting them into this mess. I should have been more careful. The day in the parking lot at the mall is vivid in my memory; every word they said.
I know the HazMats are looking for a cure, and I know they are not going about it the gentle way. Whatever they are doing here, they are doing so for their own survival, not ours.
The guards took our weapons, but I feel the knife in my boot. If only I can reach it, but with our hands tied in the middle behind our backs, there’s little chance.
I glance around. The room is bare; just an empty shelf on one side, and a chair with a lantern against the far wall. We’re in the centre of the space. The door is made of steel and obviously locked.
As I study the door, there is a sound of a key turning. We hold our breath as the door swings open, and a HazMat walks in, pointing his automatic rifle at us.
“Time to go,” he says, his voice tinny through the helmet.
Another two enter behind him and move to untie us while he keeps his weapon trained.
The pain as the blood flow to my hands resumes, is excruciating, but I don’t get a chance to dwell on it. A HazMat grabs me forcefully by my arm and drags me out into the gloomy corridor.
I hear shouts of protest as Andrew and Bronwyn are handled with as much tender, loving care, and dragged along behind me.
We pass several closed doors, and I try to keep count of them. At the end of the corridor, there’s a passage to the right, with double glass doors leading into a lab. We ignore it and take the stairs down one floor and turn left into another corridor. I think we must be below ground level now.
Here, the building looks less office-like and more like a laboratory. Everything is either glass, Perspex, or panelled in a material I don’t know. It looks sterile.
We pass several empty labs, full of equipment, unused. At the far end of the corridor is what looks like a big, glass box. We stop before it, and a HazMat pushes buttons.
When the doors open, I’m hauled inside, and the doors close behind my HazMat and me. The others stay outside. I look back, panicked, struggling in the HazMat’s grip when suddenly there is a noise, and the box fills with some kind of steam.
I start screaming, and the HazMat yells at me to shut up. When the gas stops, the HazMat takes off his helmet and his suit, and the doors on the other side of the box open.
Yanking me along by my arm, he drags me into the lab beyond. There are others there; men with guns, men in lab coats, men and women in plain clothes. They all stare at me as my HazMat straps me to what looks like a dentist’s chair.
They bring in the others, one by one, through the steam box. Andrew is struggling, kicking his HazMat, and one of the armed men comes up from behind and smacks him over the head with his weapon. Andrew goes limp, and they strap him to a chair. Bronwyn is crying, but unresisting.
“It is fortuitous for you to come to visit us when you did,” a bespectacled man says, approaching me. “You see, we need fresh blood samples, and here you are.”
He grins, and I see his gums are blue.
“Sihle, please proceed,”
A pretty African woman in a lab coat comes to stand next to me and sets up an IV stand, hooks up a bag of saline solution - at least I hope that’s what it is - and then sits next to me with the equipment to draw blood.
“Just relax, and this will be over soon enough,” she says.
“What’s in the bag?” I point with my chin to the bag hanging on the IV stand.
“Just glucose for after.”
“Ah.” Glucose? My mind is running. Why would I need glucose?
Sihle straps my arm above my elbow and wipes the inside of my arm with disinfectant. She is careful with the needle, and I hardly feel it. Pulling up a low trolley, she grabs one of the empty blood bags and connects it to the pipe now stuck in my arm.
“Lie still. I will be back now-now.”
Now-now. In Africa, that could mean anything from five minutes to five hours. I sigh and watch her move over to Bronwyn to repeat the procedure she just did on me.
Andrew is awake again and resists when Sihle tries to insert the needle into his arm.
“I don’t mind hitting you a second time,” the guard says, grinning.
I notice that his gums are blue, too, and wonder if it’s from wearing those HazMat suits all the time.
Once we’re all hooked up, and the bags slowly fill up with our blood, the people in the room return to whatever they were doing before we arrived. When I look around, it is clear that this is their main operating room.
All their research equipment is here - probably brought in from various other labs - and every imaginable surface is packed with those vial spinning gizmos, microscopes, and other items I have no name for.
Besides the steam box, there are two more exits leading out of this room. A red door with a glass window on the left, and what looks like another, smaller steam box on the right.
There are seven guards, five lab coats, and eight civilians. The large space feels crowded, and I’m suddenly aware of my claustrophobia. I concentrate on breathing slow and even.
Sihle returns and disconnects the blood bag, which is now full. To my surprise, she hooks up another one. How much blood do they need?
After the third bag, I get drowsy. My eyelids droop, and I just want to sleep. Sihle connects the glucose IV to my left hand, but I barely notice it. My head flops to the right, and I see Bronwyn looking at me. The single tear running down her cheek breaks my heart.
I’m cold. So cold. I sit up, but there isn’t much space, and I knock my head on a low ceiling. Ahead, there is the red gloom of the emergency light. I crawl towards it until I reach a gate.
Shit. I’m in a cage. Looking through the bars of the gate, I see a long room, lined with identical boxes, and I can only assume this is where they housed the lab’s research animals.
My claustrophobia is at an all-time high.
“Bronwyn? Andrew?”
“They’re still out,” a stranger’s voice says from opposite the passage.
When I peer through the bars, I see a face looking at me three cages down. It’s a guy with black hair. He is pale, and his left eye is swollen completely shut.
“Where
are we?”
“Oh, sweetheart, this is the Ritz,” the guy says.
Great. I wrap my arms around my knees, rocking myself. I’m afraid.
“Erika?”
“Bronwyn, I’m here.” I press my face to the bars, but I can’t see her.
“What’s going on?”
I hear the panic in her voice, and I suppress my own when I answer her. “I don’t know yet. Don’t worry; we’ll find a way out of this.”
“No, you won’t.”
“You, shut up!” I shout at the guy with the black hair.
“Who’s that?” Bronwyn asks.
“I’m Tyron, Andrew’s buddy.” He points with his chin in my general direction, and I know Andrew must be in the space next to mine.
“Andrew, are you awake?” Bronwyn calls, and I can now hear she’s on the same side of the passage as I am.
“I’m here,” Andrew croaks.
“Ah, now we’re all together again. One happy family,” Tyron says cheerfully.
“Just shut up, okay?” I tell him.
“Yes, boss.”
I don’t like him already, and I can imagine why the guards gave him the shiner.
“Where are the others?” Andrew asks Tyron. “We came here for you.”
“Even if you could help,” Tyron sneers, “you’re too late. Garth died within a few days of us being here. He was already weak, and after all the tests they did, he just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Nathan? Aurora?”
“I haven’t seen them in days. For all I know, they’re dead.”
Andrew swears, and I hear him hit the side of his box.
“I see you’re all awake again,” a guard says, ambling down the passage, banging his weapon on the bars. “Time to go.”
“Shit, not you again. You let me out of here, and I’ll kill your ass.”
“Tyron,” the guard says, shaking his head, “I’ve had about enough of you. As a matter of fact, we don’t need you anymore.”
The guard lifts his automatic rifle and fires two short bursts into Tyron’s box, the sound echoing painfully in my ears. I grab the bars, screaming.
“Let’s go,” the guard says casually, and unlatches our gates, one by one.
He stands back, his weapon trained on us as we climb out. Tyron’s blood drips onto the floor from his box.
“March,” the guard orders, and we move along the corridor towards the door.
The door leads back into the main room. This is the red door I saw when they took blood. I wonder how long we’ve been here and remember that Morgan is still locked in the car.
“What happened, Mike? We heard shots,” the bespectacled man asks.
Mike shrugs. “I’m afraid we’ll have to carry on our research without Tyron.”
“Dammit, Mike. Can’t you keep your temper in check just for once?”
“Hey, Prof, you said it yourself; he’s outlived his usefulness. I did you all a favour. One less mouth to feed.”
“Take guard duty for the rest of the day. I don’t want you in here,” the Prof says.
“Shit.”
Mike goes over to the steam box and presses the green button. Once the doors close behind him, he puts on his HazMat suit and then presses the green button on the other door. We watch him leave.
“So,” the Prof says, turning to us, “will you please take a seat?” He indicates the dentist chairs.
Andrew and Bronwyn walk over, but I stay rooted to the spot. I want to know what’s going on. When I don’t comply, all eyes turn to me, and I suddenly have several weapons pointing my way.
“Miss, it wasn’t a request,” the Prof says.
“What have you done with the others?”
“What others, dear?”
“The ones that were with the guy you just killed.”
“Tyron was unfortunate. Mike will pay for that later.”
“So, where are the others? Aurora and Nathan.” I stand my ground.
“Miss?” He pauses, waiting for me to give him my name. I raise my chin stubbornly. “We do not have time for this. Your blood contains high levels of what we believe makes you immune to the S1 virus. However, our recent research has shown that the blood alone cannot make us immune.” He gestures, indicating the others in the room.
“So, what do you want with us? You already have our blood.”
“We need your bone marrow.”
I glare at him, and a guard prods me in the back with his rifle, urging me towards a chair.
“You see, I believe there to be three types of people. Those that have a mild resistance, and turned into those wild creatures that now run amok out there; those that have resistance because of a certain combination of medication they took, like your friends before you; and those that have a natural resistance.”
“Then you’re wasting your time with us. We’re no different from our friends.”
“Ah, this is where you’re wrong,” he smiles. “We found something in your test results that the others don’t have, which we believe to be the key to total immunity.”
He moves towards me, smiling. All I see are his blue gums, and I suddenly know it’s from the disease. They are dying, and they are desperate. I bet they are willing to do anything to prolong their lives, by whatever means necessary.
“We don’t need your friends. Only you.”
I can now smell his foul breath. The disease is killing them slowly.
My eyes dart across the room, quickly, and back to the Prof. In one fluid motion I reach down and pull the knife from my boot, and I have it at the professor’s throat before the guard can blink.
“Make a move, and I kill him,” I hiss when the guard lifts his weapon.
The rest of the room goes tomblike quiet, and I know then the Prof is essential to their research. I tilt my head towards the steam box, and Andrew and Bronwyn run towards it.
“We’re all going to remain real calm now,” I say, and apply just enough pressure to the blade to draw a drop of blood from the Prof’s throat. I back towards the door. “Hit the green button,” I order Andrew.
I hear the swoosh of the door behind me and back up further. With my foot, I hook a stool from next to a counter and drag it along with me. All weapons are now pointed at my head.
“Push the other green button,” I whisper to Bronwyn once we’re all in the box.
“No–”
I cut off the professor’s words by applying more pressure to his throat. The inner door of the steam box closes, and I wedge the stool in the opening before it can shut completely.
When Bronwyn pushes the green button on the outside door, a warning light flashes on. It’s an orange override button. Bronwyn grins manically as she presses it. The doors open with a hiss.
Chapter 13
Unfiltered air rushes into the sterile lab, and the researchers inside scramble for their gas masks. I don’t have time to see if they all make it.
Dropping the Prof to the floor, who is now coughing and clutching at his throat, we run down the corridor. I still have my knife in hand, knowing Mike is out here, somewhere.
Around the corner, up the stairs, passed the doors - I’m glad I paid attention when they brought us from the holding room - but once we get to where they held us, I don’t know where to go.
“This way,” Andrew says and takes the lead.
We turn twice more before we’re back in the corridor where we came in — still no Mike. We make a run for the exit.
“This is too easy,” I say. “Where is he?”
“Let’s just get out of here,” Bronwyn begs.
I feel naked being out in the open without our weapons. We go through the turnstiles and scan the road. Everything seems clear, so we sprint across to the petrol station.
We’re halfway there, and I hear Morgan barking. I have no idea how long we were trapped for, but he must be dying of thirst and heat. He can probably hear us coming.
As we get closer, I signal Andrew and Bronwyn to slow d
own. That is not a happy bark. Morgan is agitated, growling, angry.
“I think there’s something by the Rover.”
We press ourselves to the wall of the building and inch forward. We can hear Mike now, throwing insults at the dog.
“Stupid mutt,” Mike says, “I’m gonna shoot you.”
We hear the click of the safety coming off. I hear Morgan banging against the window. Something happens in my brain at the thought of that asshole shooting my dog, and I step around the corner, take three long strides towards Mike, and plunge my knife straight into his back.
He screams, and his HazMat suit emits a soft hissing noise. Dropping to his knees, he looks up at me with big eyes.
“That’s my dog, shithead.”
“Remind me never to mess with you,” Andrew says after picking up Mike’s weapon and climbing into the Rover.
I laugh, the tension finally leaving my body. Morgan is outside, investigating the bushes, marking his territory. Bronwyn is already in the back, hugging her knees.
“Morgan, come, time to go.”
I watch Mike in the rear-view mirror as I pull out of our hiding spot. His body lies crumpled on the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading beneath him. He is not the first person I have killed today, though.
We know now that the virus is still very much active in the air, and those who are not immune will not survive. All those within the lab breathed some of the air before they did, or did not, find their gas masks, and I am sure they will all die. Right now, I am numb, but I know it will hit me later that the deaths are the result of my actions.
I look ahead through the windscreen and concentrate on driving the Rover. There will be time for introspection soon enough. Now, I need to get my friends home. Bronwyn, especially, is taking it hard.
It is dark by the time we pull into the driveway. We are hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. Andrew has finally realised that he has lost all his friends, and Bronwyn is consoling him while I make us something to eat.
“What do we do now?” Bronwyn asks after our meal.
“We carry on,” I shrug. “It’s a big world out there. There must be others.”