‘No,’ Harry blurted, but then Charlie laughed and he realised she was messing. ‘I don’t know how this stuff works. Like, what I’d be allowed to send, or how far away you’ll be. And visits. Is it only family members that can visit?’
‘Could you bake me a cake with a gun inside?’ Charlie asked dryly.
Harry’s balls throbbed when he laughed. ‘I’m sure they’d never suspect that …’
‘I’ve spent too much time with Ed to make many friends and Fawn’s a total bitch. So, it might be nice to hear that British accent occasionally.’
‘Cool,’ Harry said.
‘I think my three minutes are up,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m being moved out of the police precinct soon, I think. So I’ll try and call when …’
The phone went dead and Harry stood still for ages, holding the ice pack against his back and thinking about Charlie’s giant blue eyes.
PART TWO
TWO YEARS LATER
13 SNor
A brief history of the SNor outbreak
By Charlie Croker (Inmate B3790)
Synthetic Norovirus K (SNorK) was originally developed as a treatment for stomach cancer by scientists at the University of Zurich.
While regular norovirus breeds in the human stomach, causing diarrhoea and vomiting (commonly known as stomach flu), the Zurich scientists used gene-editing techniques to create a modified virus that would only attack cancerous cells.
Early synthetic norovirus trials reduced levels of cancer, but most patients’ immune systems destroyed the modified virus before it was completely effective. To combat this, scientists developed the ‘K’ version. In addition to the anti-cancer modifications, SNorK added genes from another virus capable of surviving in the human gut for up to two weeks.
In early trials, SNorK proved effective, surviving in the stomach long enough to completely cure stomach cancer in seven out of eight patients. All patients treated with SNorK had to stay under strict quarantine while undergoing treatment with the experimental virus.
This included the incineration of clothes, medical equipment and patients’ bodily waste. All medical staff dealing with trial patients were inoculated against SNork, and all patients had to be clear of the virus for two weeks before being allowed to leave the research facility.
Despite the success of these trials, SNorK treatment was never licensed for general use. Medical bodies around the world agreed there was too much risk of the modified virus mutating, or that it would recombine with regular norovirus. This would risk producing a norovirus strain that survived in the gut for up to two weeks like SNorK, while producing the virus’s normal symptoms of severe vomiting and diarrhoea.
The Zurich team published their results and drug companies began searching for ways to achieve the targeted cancer therapy without using a potentially dangerous virus.
Two years later, Chinese businessman Kenny Yo was diagnosed with stomach cancer. With a personal fortune of $11 billion and a life expectancy of less than one year, Yo offered Zurich University Virology Department $250 million to use their quarantine facility for his own course of SNorK treatment. The department said that using an unlicensed treatment was unethical, and illegal under Swiss Law.
But the determined billionaire found a group of Hangzhou-based genetic scientists who were seeking money to start their own gene-editing business. Most details of the Zurich University SNorK project had been published in a scientific journal, and they could use off-the-shelf gene-editing technology costing less than $10,000 to make a copycat version of SNorK.
Yo retreated to his country home, sealed himself away from friends and family and began dosing himself with SNorK. The treatment was successful, but while Yo kept himself isolated, the conditions were nothing like as secure as the viral containment lab at the University of Zurich.
It is believed that the first people to contract SNorK were Yo’s cleaner, and two men who came to vacuum the septic tank at his country home. SNorK is highly contagious, but its symptoms are mild compared to regular norovirus and the SNorK outbreak went unnoticed. Most patients were not sick enough to go to a doctor, and those that did were assumed to have a minor stomach infection.
Norovirus thrives in cool temperatures (another name for it is ‘winter vomiting bug’) and as cold weather set in a typical winter outbreak of norovirus began in the area around Hangzhou. At first, everything seemed normal, but shortly after Christmas patients started showing serious symptoms.
Instead of lasting less than twenty-four hours, patients were often sick for a week or more and many weaker patients died through severe dehydration. Norovirus is extremely contagious. It is mainly passed by touch, particularly in public restrooms and food-preparation areas. This makes the virus prone to spreading in heavily populated environments such as schools, prisons, cruise ships and hospitals.
As the Zurich scientists had feared, SNorK and regular norovirus had swapped genes and formed a deadlier strain. The recombined synthetic norovirus – now commonly referred to as SNor – mixes the longevity of SNorK and the unpleasant gastric effects of regular norovirus. In the eight months since SNor was first detected, it has appeared in every country on Earth, and is estimated to have infected one billion people.
In most cases SNor causes three to seven days of painful vomiting and diarrhoea. Patients are advised to continually drink water, to stay away from others as much as possible and not to seek medical attention, because of the risk of bringing the virus into contact with people with other illnesses.
For a healthy adult, the risk of death from a SNor infection is less than 0.1%. However, this rises to more than 5% in children under two years old. Other groups who are seriously affected include the elderly, diabetics and people with immune system diseases such as HIV.
Deaths from SNor are now believed to be more than 2.5 million. However, cases declined sharply when summer hit the populous northern hemisphere and it has been shown that relatively simple hygiene procedures can greatly reduce reinfection rates.
The first inoculations against SNor have recently been released and are being given to high priority groups, such as hospital workers and children aged between six months and two years.
Grade A+++
Great Work!!!!
Charlie, this is well researched and structured. Hopefully this will be the last essay you write for me before your release.
It has been a HUGE pleasure teaching you English and science over the past two and a bit years. Although at times I can barely keep up with your thirst for knowledge!
If you can successfully put these difficult years behind you, there is no limit to where you can go in life!
All best!
Ms G. Higuain
14 GOOD LUCK, CHARLIE
Kirsten assuaged some of her guilt about not spending time with Harry by paying for him to attend Queensbridge Academy. The sixteen-year-old wore a shirt, tie and V-neck sweater as he strode a path between neat lawns, wary of a group of tenth-grade princesses in dark blue knee socks and tartan skirts.
‘Harry Potter,’ one of them shouted. ‘Over here! Did you read my article?’
Esme was a Colombian fireball. Harry adored her athletic legs and chocolate-brown eyes, but was less impressed with the three hundred words of Christmas Gift Ideas she’d submitted for the Queensbridge online newspaper.
‘I just left the fortnightly editorial meeting,’ Harry explained. ‘It’s a good article, but the staff want articles about school life, sports matches and stuff.’
He wanted to say, The school wants bland crap that makes it look good and I’m not going to use the trashy article you cobbled together in half an hour, because your homeroom tutor said you needed to start doing things that make you look less like a brain-dead mall rat on your college application.
‘You could try something less random,’ Harry suggested. ‘You’d understand what we’re looking for if you sat in on the next editorial meeting and listened to …’
Harry’s words withered under the gaze of
scorn. Girls like Esme expected boys like Harry to kiss their asses, and she glared at him like he’d stamped on her toes. But even Esme’s moody face was beautiful and Harry felt jealous of Cristiano, the beefy senior soccer goalie who got to see her naked.
‘I get ten articles for every one we can publish,’ Harry added. And hassle for every rejection …
‘Zit faced prick on a power kick,’ one of Esme’s pals muttered, loud enough for Harry to hear as he backed away.
‘It rhymes, it rhymes,’ another one added, and then they were all squealing with laughter.
Harry’s face turned red and he didn’t dare glance back. His skin had been bad for the past few months, and beautiful girls calling him spotty was a slug in the gut.
Two hundred bucks for the dermatologist, ninety bucks for a pot of cream and my face still looks like a pizza …
Anita smiled as she ran the other way. Harry’s deputy editor was skinny and had hands buried in her Queensbridge Athletic sweatshirt to fight the early evening cold. ‘Left my poster tube in the meeting room …’
Anita was Indian-American, super smart, super blunt and had a filthy sense of humour. Harry still felt bad that he’d snapped a no when she’d nervously asked if he wanted to go to the Christmas formal with her.
Harry’s phone rang before he found anything else to fuel his regret. It was the name he wanted to see and he trembled as he heard a familiar recorded message.
‘This is a collect call from White Boulder Juvenile Correction facility. If you wish to accept payment for this call, press one, followed by the star on your keypad.’
‘Charlie,’ Harry said after a mechanical clunk that he’d always assumed was something to do with prisoner calls being recorded. ‘How’d your hearing go?’
Charlie sounded like the whole world had landed on her head. ‘Life sucks,’ she groaned. ‘The two guys on the early release panel were fine. But it was the same woman as last time. Said she wasn’t comfortable. Because making alcohol showed I was still interested in chemistry, which showed I hadn’t learned my lesson. Plus, the fight I got in last week didn’t help.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Seriously? You already did an extra two months for making that batch of hooch. And the fight wasn’t your fault. Wasn’t the whole thing on CCTV?’
‘It has to be a unanimous decision to release me,’ Charlie said.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Harry said, staring at a darkening sky and the light haze from the Vegas strip, four miles away. ‘I wanted you to be out for Christmas …’
‘Actually,’ Charlie said, suddenly much brighter. ‘I just made all that up.’
‘Eh?’
‘Everything went fine. They’re releasing me to an Independent Living Facility in North Vegas on Friday!’
‘Holy crap!’ Harry gasped, punching the air with his free hand. ‘Really?’
‘I had you,’ Charlie laughed.
‘You’re mean!’ Harry said. ‘You’re really coming out?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ Charlie said. ‘I had to sit through this big lecture about following the rules at Independent Living and how they could send me back for the rest of my sentence if I screw up once.’
‘Friday!’ Harry said, turning back towards his school. ‘I’ve got lessons Friday. But you know what? I don’t care. I’ll bunk off and drive up to see you. Are you OK? Are you happy?’
Charlie laughed noisily. ‘Of course I’m happy, dumbass. But don’t bunk school. They’re driving me and another inmate in a transit bus. Just as likely won’t get there until two or three in the afternoon. Let me settle in, and you can drive up Saturday.’
‘Makes sense,’ Harry said, imagining a day with Charlie. ‘All the hours we spent on the phone, I kinda forget that we’ve only met properly once.’
‘You visited me four times.’
‘Yeah, but in that dingy little room full of screaming kids … Only thing is, I can’t stay late because I can’t drive after sunset until I’ve had my licence for a year.’
‘Any more crashes?’ Charlie asked cheekily.
‘My driving’s OK,’ Harry said. ‘I just clipped that kerb coming out of the filling station. And then the cop pulled me over cos I was driving home with my fender hanging off.’
‘You can laugh at me when I start drivers’ ed next year,’ Charlie said. ‘But God knows how I’ll ever afford a car.’
‘So how’s everyone been about you getting out?’
‘They had a girl with SNor arrive on block C on Sunday,’ Charlie said. ‘So we’re officially back on full quarantine. Only allowed to eat and use the toilet in our cells, and no close contact with other inmates. But a few of my girls have snuck in my cell for goodbyes and I’ve started giving my toiletries and stuff away. But you can’t be over-the-top happy cos there’s noobs who just arrived and are broken hearted. And bitches doing life who’ll batter you if you rub in that you’re getting out.’
‘I actually need to go,’ Harry said. ‘It’ll be dark soon, and I’m still at school.’
‘Detention?’ Charlie asked.
‘Worse: editorial meeting for the school news website.’
‘Life must be sooooo hard at your ten-thousand-dollar-per-term school,’ Charlie teased. ‘But, seriously, I have no idea how I’d have survived if you weren’t around, Harry. Can’t wait to hug the hell out of you on Saturday.’
‘Day after tomorrow,’ Harry said, saying the words like he didn’t believe them before cracking a big smile. ‘Let me know if there’s anything you need me to pick up.’
Harry smiled up at the sky as he dropped his phone back in his pocket. Probably past sunset, but home is only a ten-minute drive and there’s no bus out here …
Anita came running in the other direction, now carrying her art project in a plastic tube almost as tall as she was.
‘Got there just before the caretaker locked up,’ she huffed breathlessly. ‘What are you looking so cheerful about?’
‘Charlie’s getting out Saturday,’ Harry explained.
Anita nodded. ‘Your girlfriend, the mad bomber!’
He didn’t like the mad bomber comment, but he preferred Anita’s bluntness to people who gossip behind your back.
‘Not my girlfriend,’ Harry said firmly.
‘Could have fooled me, Haribo,’ Anita teased. ‘You’re always talking about her, or calling her, or taking the three-hour bus ride to White Boulder.’
Harry liked Anita’s jealousy, but this didn’t sustain him for the walk across the parking lot to his Mini. He hoped Charlie was going to become his girlfriend, but had no clue if her feelings went beyond friendship.
15 BEEF AND COKE
Charlie wasn’t much taller than when she’d arrived at White Boulder, but she’d filled out and the T-shirt and denim shorts she’d put into storage the day she’d arrived now looked like doll’s clothes.
Her fake Ray Bans and a Raiders cap she’d stolen from JJ still did their job, but the cell with the cracked screen was flat and she had no idea if the battery would revive after more than two years. Besides the clothes, Charlie’s mesh storage box contained two keys for a trailer where someone else now lived, an expired Rock Spring Middle School ID, a five-dollar bill and three more in change.
Since her clothes were too small, the officer handling Charlie’s release let her keep the prison issue sneakers, tracksuit bottoms and undershirt she stood up in, plus one spare set of underwear. She also got a sixty-dollar release grant and a care package, containing anti-viral hand gel, a pack of condoms and leaflets on sexually transmitted diseases and dealing with depression.
After twenty-seven months on a fifty-acre prison lot, it seemed weird to be on the move. Charlie stared out the bus at new shops and ads for movies she’d never heard of. Cars were mostly electric and every inch of roof packed solar panels.
There were SNor warnings, and shopfront posters advertising virus-destroying UV lamps: $299 FINALLY BACK IN STOCK. About one person in four wore an anti-virus
mask. These looked sturdier than the ones issued to White Boulder inmates, which split, crumbled and never got replaced.
The Barack Obama Independent Living Unit was in North Vegas, less than three blocks from open desert. There was a 7-Eleven next door and suburban houses sprawled in every direction. The building had been open less than two years, and made Charlie think of an alpine lodge, with exposed timber joists and black-framed windows.
Her whole life fitted in three trash sacks, which she unloaded from a cage in the rear of the prison bus, while its driver charged inside to piss. The guy behind reception showed no desire to help as Charlie dragged her stuff through an automatic door and into a double-height lobby area.
A bright yellow dispenser filled with anti-viral gel stood by the reception desk, along with a sign saying all visitors and residents must use it every time they entered. Charlie had a small cut, which stung as she slathered her hands and inhaled a mixture of eucalyptus and chlorine.
‘You Croker?’ the guy behind the desk asked, his masked face barely moving from the email he was typing. ‘Can you read?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is your envelope. Its contents should answer all questions. If you come back here and ask me a question that is answered on a piece of paper inside this envelope I shall not be happy. Is that clear?’
What a dick.
‘Clear as new-laid snow,’ Charlie said, a set of keys rattling as she grabbed the big envelope.
He searched her face for sarcasm. Then grunted before continuing the spiel.
‘Read the rules and regulations. I didn’t know is never an excuse. Lunch has finished, but there are cookies if you’re hungry. Becky will be back from her break shortly. She’ll get your school electives sorted, answer any questions and hopefully dig something better than that prison issue out of our spare-clothes closet.’
It was school time, so there was peace in the short hallway leading to room 16a. The room’s contents looked newish, with a stack of bedding sealed in polythene and a wardrobe with lockable blue doors. The only sign of the previous resident was remnants of white sticky pads where they’d removed posters.
KILLER T Page 7