by Cross, Amy
“I knew you survived,” I stammer. “I don't know how you did it, but I knew I saw you.”
“Clever boy,” he replies. “I must admit that you and Doctor Carter rather took me by surprise back at Pentham. That doesn't happen often, so allow me to congratulate you. However, time is pressing and I'm afraid that I don't have time to hang around and reminisce. I'm sure you know what I want, so I'll make this easy on you.”
He reaches his right hand out toward me.
“Give me the vials.”
“I don't know what you're -”
“Give me the vials, Thomas,” he says again, “or, if you don't have them, tell me where they are.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I can't help him.
“I know Carter doesn't have them,” he continues, “and about an hour ago my men finally located the truck that you were all in when you arrived. The vials aren't there either, which means that they've been hidden somewhere. You'll be free to go, just so long as you give them to me immediately.”
“I have no idea where they are,” I tell him. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Caitlin backing away, but I know I can't afford to look at her. “What do you want them for, anyway?”
“Let's not have this conversation again,” he replies with a tired sigh. “This is your last chance, Thomas. Turn the vials over to me, or I'll be forced to employ techniques that will force the information from you.”
I hesitate for a moment, wondering whether I have any chance at all of escaping if I make a run for the nearest door, but then I realize that I wouldn't have a hope.
“I'm sorry,” I say, “but I don't -”
“Take him,” Patterson says dismissively, before turning and starting to walk away. “I'll get the information out of him one way or another.”
“No!” I shout, rushing toward the door, only for the soldiers to swarm all around me.
I don't even manage ten steps. I'm grabbed from several directions at once and, although I try to fight back, I'm powerless to resist as I'm lifted off my feet and carried toward the main door. I know I can't escape, but instinct takes over and I kick and shout, trying desperately to somehow get a chance. I briefly spot Caitlin watching from over by the far wall, and then I'm hauled out of the building and thrown into the back of a truck. Before I can even try to escape, I'm slammed against the floor and I hear the engine starting, and then I'm driven away.
Day 112
Elizabeth
He's not here.
Ever since Bloom turned up at the main building, I've been searching for Thomas. In all the craziness following Toad's return, I sort of lost track of Thomas and now I need to find him. Unfortunately, with no way of contacting him, I'm left to roam the streets. I feel as if this is all I've done since I got back to Boston: I walk endlessly, looking for someone, hoping for a stroke of luck.
And then, as I reach yet another empty street corner, I'm struck once more by the sensation that I'm being watched.
This time I don't turn, not immediately. The hairs on the back of my neck are starting to stand up, and I can almost feel a pair of eyes drilling into me. Did Bloom send someone to keep an eye on me? That's a distinct possibility, although I'm also very aware that these streets probably aren't completely safe, at least once you get away from the very central area around the main building. I should be a little more careful, although I figure I'm not quite in the dangerous spot yet.
Finally, acting as if nothing's wrong, I turn and look back the way I just came. There's still no sign of anyone, but I'm more certain than ever that I'm being followed.
Figuring that I need to find out for certain one way or another, I head around the next corner and then I hurry down a side-street and crouch behind some rubble. I hold my breath, while telling myself that this is all in my head, but a moment later I hear a set of foot-steps coming closer. I watch the street ahead, and sure enough a figure steps into view. I don't recognize this person, and he's dressed in little more than rags, but as he glances around it's clear that he's searching for something or someone.
I duck down a little lower, to make doubly sure that he can't see me, and then I listen to the sound of his foot-steps heading away.
Once I'm sure that he's gone, I get to my feet and head to the corner. I peer around and see the figure at the next junction, and now he seems almost frantic as he looks for any sign of me. Considering the way he's dressed, this guy sure doesn't look like a soldier, but I guess maybe Bloom told him to blend in. Then, as a woman comes the other way, the figure apprehends her and starts speaking to her. I can't make out any of their conversation, but it's pretty clear that he's asking whether she's seen me.
She shrugs and carries on, and I once again step back to make sure that I'm not spotted.
When I look back around the corner, the strange figure has crossed the street and is making his way toward one of the other corners. As soon as he's out of sight, I hurry after him, while making sure that I can get out of sight at a moment's notice. By the time I get to the corner and look around to the next street, the figure has already made it quite far into the distance and has stopped again. He's looking around as if he's still searching for me, and then suddenly he turns and starts coming back this way.
I'm certain he didn't see me, but I still sink back into the abandoned foyer of a building and duck down, and then I watch as the figure steps into sight just a short distance away.
Now that I'm this close, I can see that this guy is old. He's very thin, too, with ankles that look as if they might snap at any moment. I'm not exactly built for a fight, but even I could probably fend him off. Not that I want to get involved in a direct confrontation, of course. I stay low, watching the guy, and I'm struck by the expression of fear on his face. It's as if, by losing me, he's risking the wrath of whoever sent him out. At the same time, I still can't quite imagine this guy having much to do with Charles Bloom, and I'm starting to wonder if there's anyone else who might be looking for me.
For a moment, I allow myself to start wondering whether there's any chance that Dad is behind this. What if, while searching from my father, I'm simultaneously hiding from someone who wants to take me straight to him? I could just stand up, ask the guy what he wants, and then figure out the rest from there. I'm not quite that brave, however, and I don't understand why anyone would tail me but not shout out my name. Unless they're up to no good.
And then, suddenly, it happens.
“Elizabeth?” the guy whispers, before cupping his hands around his mouth and raising his voice a little. “Elizabeth Marter!”
Okay, he's either desperate or insane.
“Elizabeth Marter,” he continues, “if you can hear me, I need you to come with me! It's not safe for either of us to be out here in the open like this, we have to hurry!”
I almost get to my feet.
Almost.
My heart is racing, but deep down I know that something about this situation feels really wrong. If my father sent this guy, why wouldn't he just say that? Why wouldn't he be completely up-front and tell me that my father's waiting for me?
“Damn it!” he mutters suddenly, before setting off along the street.
I wait, listening as his footsteps recede into the distance, and finally the street is quiet again. I know there's a danger that the guy might come back this way, however, so I wait for a couple more minutes before finally, slowly standing and leaning out to make sure that the coast is clear. At least in a city that's deserted, it's not too difficult to tell when you're being followed.
I need to find Thomas.
I turn to make my way to the station, only to find the strange guy standing right behind me.
“What -”
Before I can finish, he pulls me forward and places a wet rag against my face. I try to pull away, and after a moment I manage to twist away from his grip and turn to run.
I only manage a couple of paces, however, before my legs give way beneath me and I fall. Landing hard on my hands and kn
ees, I can already feel myself starting to weaken. I try to cry out, but then my arms fail me and I slam down against the sidewalk.
“It's okay,” the old man says, his voice coming closer as everything fades to black. “Someone just wants to see you. That's all.”
Thomas
I scream as the hot iron is driven once more into my chest, frying my flesh and filling my nostrils with the thick stench of burning skin. The iron twists slightly, pressing against my ribs, and then it's pulled back with strings of melted flesh hanging from the metal.
“You'd do well to reconsider your attitude,” Bart says, leaning closer to me in the darkness until I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “All Patterson wants it to know where you and Carter have hidden the cure. Then you can -”
Before he can finish, I spit a mixture of blood and saliva into his face.
“Right,” he mutters, stepping back for a moment and wiping the saliva away, “so that's still how you want to play it, huh?”
“You can do what you want,” I gasp, even though that's a lie. “I don't know anything.”
I've been constantly shifting from consciousness to unconsciousness and back again since I woke up here. Chained to the wall, I'm being subjected to regular bouts of torture, and this Bart guy is really starting to get under my skin. Hanging here from chains around my wrists, I stare at Bart and imagine all the things I'll do to him once I'm free. He has a whole load of tools that I'd just love to turn around and use on him.
Suddenly he steps toward me again.
I flinch, but this time I refuse to scream. I won't give him the satisfaction. And there's no way I'll ever tell him that I gave the cure to Caitlin. I just hope she can keep it safe, and then hopefully Elizabeth will -
Suddenly the hot iron slams into my left shoulder, and the pain erupts straight through my body with such force that I can't hold back. I scream, and I keep screaming as the metal burns through my flesh.
Elizabeth
“Hey, wake up. Hey kid, it's time to wake up.”
Opening my eyes, I suddenly see light streaming through a bare, smashed window. I stare for a moment, not quite understanding where I am, and then suddenly I remember the old guy who knocked me out. Startled, I sit up and see him crouching nearby, watching me with a curious grin.
I pull away and back against the wall, and I'm already looking around to work out how I can run.
“It's okay,” he continues, “you're safe. You're with us now. There's no reason to be scared.”
At the far end of the room, there's an open door. If I can outrun this old man, which shouldn't be too difficult, I might be able to make a break for freedom. I just need to pick the right moment and hope that he doesn't have any weapons.
“No-one's done anything to you,” he continues, holding his hands up as if he wants me to see that he's unarmed. “No-one's gonna hurt you. I'm just -”
Before he can finish, I scramble to my feet and race past him. He tries to grab me, but I slip away and run toward the open door. And then, just as I'm about to get outside, a figure steps into my path and blocks me, sending me thudding into its chest with such force that I fall back and slam down hard against the dusty concrete floor.
Staring up at the figure, all I can see is a black gas mask looking back down at me. I can just about make out my own reflection in the mask's visor.
“Please don't hurt me,” I stammer. “I haven't done anything to you.”
The figure stares at me for a moment, and then tilts its head slightly. As it does so, its thick rubber contamination suit creaks loudly.
“I don't have anything to give you,” I continue. “I just... I'm not...”
My voice trails off, and then I start to realize that I can hear a sound coming from beneath the mask. At first I think it's some kind of snarl, but then I realize that it's something else.
This person is laughing.
Suddenly the figure reaches up and starts removing the mask. This takes a moment or two, but finally the mask is slipped aside and I'm shocked to see a grinning, familiar face staring back down at me.
“Hey, Lizzie,” Natalie says, “sorry about having you snatched off the street like that but, well, a girl's gotta be careful these days.”
Thomas
“Haul him up,” a voice is saying nearby as I stir from unconsciousness. “Just haul him up there, let me get a look at him.”
I start to open my eyes, but something's wrong. Finally I manage to get my right eye open, but my left feels different somehow and I realize after a few seconds that it must be swollen shut. Then, just as I'm starting to realize that I must have taken another beating, I'm dragged up from the floor and I hear chains rattling above me as I'm pressed against a cold wall.
“You certainly did a number on him,” the voice continues. “Hard to believe a man could take that sort of punishment and still not talk. I'm almost impressed.”
My right eye has slipped shut again, but somehow I manage to force it open. Now my vision is a little blurry, but I blink a few times and finally I'm just about able to make out a familiar figure standing right in front of me.
Patterson.
I lunge forward and snarl at him, but the chains hold me tight. Even though I know I can't get to the bastard, I try a couple more times before falling still again. Brute strength won't be enough. For once in my life, I'm going to have to be smart.
“Thomas Edgewater,” he says calmly, “look at you. You're a mess. Is it really worth all this pain, just to keep the location of those vials a secret? It's not as if I'm going to do anything bad with them. I'm going to give them to the masses, so that we can be rid of this terrible sickness. You're getting so caught up in Sarah Carter's idiotic rhetoric, you haven't stopped to realize yet that you're the bad guy here.”
“What happened to you?” I whisper, horrified by the sight of his damaged face. There are patches where bone can be seen through the torn flesh, and the bloodied edges are blackened. “What are you?”
“It's all Carter's fault,” he replies. “She was conducting some experiments and she needed a live specimen. Oh, she assured me that there was no danger, and she told me I'd be doing my bit for humanity. I guess I'm just a fool, because I believed her and I let her inject me.” He pauses. “This was round about the hundredth day, it was the day we were all getting ready to join the attack on Boston. Soon after we set off, I realized something was wrong. My condition is worsening day by day, Thomas, and it's all because Sarah Carter lied to me and made me sick. Is it really so strange that I want to get better?”
“So you just want the vials for yourself,” I sneer.
“I want one of them for myself,” he replies. “The others...”
His voice trails off.
“You're going to trade them, aren't you?” I say after a moment. “For entry into Project Atherius.”
“What do you know about Project Atherius?”
“I know it just made your rotten old eyes light up with excitement.”
He stares at me for a moment, before smiling and shaking his head.
“You don't need to know about Project Atherius,” he says finally. “All you need to know is that I'll make sure that the remaining vials get to the people who need them the most. And while you might be keen to make that determination yourself, I'm going to have to play the rank card and remind you that I'm in charge. I get to make the decisions.” He leans closer and tilts his head slightly. “Where are those vials?”
I open my mouth to tell him to go screw himself, but suddenly I realize that I can see through into his skull. In fact, I can see through to the other side, and it's clear now that part of his brain has begun to rot away.
“I don't have much patience left,” he says firmly, as I start to notice the stench of rotten flesh, “so let's get this over with, while I'm still willing to give you an easy death. Where are the vials?”
“I can see your brain,” I tell him.
“I might be seeing yours in a minute or
two,” he snarls.
“Is that why you're like this?” I continue. “There are bits of your brain missing. You can't be thinking straight. You weren't like this when I first met you, people had respect for you back then. Is the real General Patterson still in there somewhere? Because I don't think he'd like what's happening right now. I think he'd want to be fighting for what's right, and helping to put the world back in order. Not torturing people and working only to save himself.”
I wait, but for a moment it's almost as if I've started to get through to him. His face twitches slightly, and then he tilts his head, allowing me to see another damaged part of his brain. I honestly can't believe that a man's capable of still walking and talking when so much is missing from inside his head.
“You will tell me where the vials are,” he says finally, “and you will do it before the end of the day. And once you've done that, you'll wonder why you didn't do it sooner and save all of us so much trouble.”
With that, he turns and starts walking away.
“Get this done!” he snaps at Bart. “If you have any expectation of being on that train when it leaves, you'll have the vials for me by sundown.”
Bart mutters something as he heads over to one of the counters. I watch Patterson leaving, and then I turn to see Bart coming toward me with a set of knives in his right hand.
“You heard the man,” he tells me. “This is nothing personal. It's just a case of every man for himself.”
And then, as he raises one of the knives toward my face, he smiles.
Elizabeth
“The lookout post took a direct hit,” Natalie explains as she leads me along a deserted, ruined street in a part of the city that I don't recognize at all. “Like, I'm talking some kind of explosive device that just came slamming straight into it while we were all there. The fireworks after that thing went off were immense.”