Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats

by Stuart Parker

  *

  The Code Whisperer communications headset always turned Kaptu Z hollow. The shrill hissing voice issuing commands with cold finality carried an electronic signature impossible to forge. It was rarely used in Asylum City and Kaptu had only been on the receiving end when he was first recruited by Renaissance. That had been bizarre in its delivery, but predictable at least in its content, demanding pledges of loyalty and assurances of sanity. On this occasion, however, it was nothing short of disturbing. Hurt World had rushed him to the aid of Blast with a murderous poacher in pursuit and at the bequest of insurance agents was placing restrictions on transport and weapons. It was a bad deal, but it was made clear if he did not agree to it, the whole mission would be scrapped and he would be left stateless and adrift in Europe. Trying to negotiate with the subhuman hiss that was the Code Whisperer was in itself a criminal offense.

  ‘Do you accept the terms outlined to you as legally binding?’ said the Code Whisperer once the instructions were given.

  ‘Sure,’ Kaptu murmured angrily and pulled the headset off. He took a moment to recompose himself. He had taken the call in the recovery ward of the Leanov Veterinarian Clinic and he found himself noticing the animals filling the glass enclosures around him. He walked up to a lion in the corner and met its eyes. He had learnt during his time with Hurt World One to recognise in the eyes of animals whether or not they had ever been free. The dull, glazed eyes looking back at him now attested to a lifetime’s captivity. Knowing that such things did not change whether it be Asylum City or here, gave him resolve, helped him to focus. The Code Whisperer’s restrictions made it riskier but there was still a way out. He went to McRaven’s backpack and searched through it for weapons legally available to Hurt World technicians. Quick firing laser-acid weapons were not on the list, nor were the aura-lock dart missiles; it left Kaptu a small laser guiding slug pistol of a kind to conceal in shoes or trouser legs. He looked it over, suspecting a battle hardened poacher would consider it little more threatening as crickets in the African savannah.

  ‘Blast is ready to leave,’ announced Dr Leanov poking his head out from the operating theatre. His voice softened somewhat when he noticed the pistol in hand. ‘Is everything alright?’

  Kaptu pocketed the weapon in his moleskin pants. ‘She’s ready?’

  ‘Yes. Would you like to see?’

  Kaptu joined him in the operating theatre. On the silver table in its centre, there was a sausage shaped black duffel bag. Nurse Nell was beside it monitoring the vitals signs on its monitor box.

  Kaptu’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘You’ve stuffed the dog into a bag?’

  ‘It’s a Cocoon 41,’ said Leanov. ‘It’s a rehabilitator environment. Blast is in an induced coma and she is set to be woken in two weeks from today. Your job in the meantime is to keep the bag out of harm’s way in the meantime. If you can, a full recovery is likely.’ Leanov had to battle to hold himself together as he said these things, for lying was not in his nature. At least he was only lying by admission, neglecting to mention that the Cocoon 41 was only intended for use in transporting a sick animal to a veterinarian clinic, not to take one away. Nurse Nell was well aware of the malpractice he was perpetrating and looked on stone faced. She might even have said something if not for Kaptu’s menacing air and the way he had arrived at the clinic, dropped in by military plane. Clearly, this was not a usual situation. Not that Kaptu was so foul tempered or surly mouthed as those gangster types that had tormented Leanov’s practice in the past. He even had a sense of humour, laughing as he saw what had happened to Blast: ‘You’ve put the dog in the bag.’

  Leanov folded his arms tensely. ‘The Cocoon 41 is now ready to go mobile. You are of course welcome to stay here long enough to enact your escape plan.’

  Kaptu pulled a face. ‘It’s not going to be as elaborate as I’d hoped. In fact, could you give me directions to the local train station?’

  Leanov stared at him incredulously. ‘We’re quite out of the way here. The nearest station is down in the valley. In Par.’

  ‘I think I saw it during the descent.’

  ‘You’ll have to descend a whole lot further to reach it. A couple of thousand feet worth of world class ski slopes stand in the way. Wouldn’t the people who flew you here come pick you up again? In these parts, the sky is the flattest road you’ll find.’

  Kaptu shook his head. ‘Things are going to get a little bumpy. Do you have skis and a sled?’

  ‘We’re on top of the Alps. Of course, I do. But the snow is sludgy this time of year. I could simply give you a lift to the station if you prefer.’

  ‘Stepping outside is going to be too dangerous for kind offers. There might be people keen to undo the work you’ve done in keeping Blast alive.’

  ‘The Stamford TF agent explained the situation to me. I’ve heard of Mas and the things she’s done. You’ve got to move quickly before she gets here.’

  ‘I’ve heard of her too,’ replied Kaptu. ‘That’s why I’m assuming she’s already in position.’

  ‘If Mas is outside, I’m afraid you’ll find yourself in a bag of your own: a body bag.’

  Kaptu frowned. ‘You’ve heard of Mas but perhaps you haven’t heard of me. My name is Kaptu Z. I am from Asylum City.’

  Leanov looked to Nurse Nell. ‘Bring my skis, could you? The news ones.’ He smiled despite himself and slapped Kaptu on the shoulder. ‘As the recovery ward may have hinted at, I am well used to the company of wild animals. My sled is by the backdoor. I’ll take you there.’

  The corridor they walked along was lined with medicine cabinets including the anti-venom of the world’s one hundred most poisonous creatures. Leanov pointed them out with some pride. Kaptu managed to nod despite being preoccupied with McRaven’s operations bag. He found what he was looking for, promptly pulling out the Pulsar Flare. It was pen-shaped black Nithian metal and would be powerful enough to disrupt the functioning of any drone a poacher might throw against him.

  They reached the backdoor, which led out to an expansive terrace and a remarkable view of the snow drenched mountains descending to the distant valley floor. The sled was strung up on the wall by the door. Leanov pointed to it and quickly stepped back inside the building. ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this? I will give you my prognosis. It may not be entirely worthless. Surgeons resemble generals in the way they must sum up all the elements of a battlefield. Usually the battlefield is a living body but on this occasion it is the mountain on which I have made a home. And I would say your chances are slim. A thousand feet descent on avalanche prone slopes with an expert hunter poised on higher ground. Secondary considerations are your lack of skiing experience and the obvious reticence of the United Nations to get involved - if they’ve left you to catch a train you had better not count on them for anything much. Unless there is some miracle cure in that bag of yours, I’m afraid the condition may be terminal.’

  Kaptu pushed the bag to him. ‘Actually, I would like you to hold onto it. It belongs to a man named McRaven. He’ll be coming shortly with a rather unfriendly black bear.’

  ‘I spoke to him over the radio.’ Leanov took the bag and glanced at all the weapons inside. ‘These are just the sort of belongings I would expect of such a man.’ He snapped the bag shut. ‘Halfway down the mountain there is a monastery run by the Order of Saint James. You may way want to renounce your sins.’

  ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

  Nurse Nell arrived with the skis. ‘Here you are, Doctor. The good ones.’