Sleep, Think, Die, page 14
Carson considered. The man’s words were reasonable enough but there was something in his demeanour as he spoke them that carried an air of menace.
“Then how do you manage to find it when you need it?” He asked, watching Harry’s face carefully. It wasn’t Harry who answered him.
“We have certain markers; little things that indicate to those in the know where the path is. We have to, otherwise we would be as clueless as everyone else. Now,” Glenda turned over a piece of meat with a stick sharpened to act as a knife, “who’s ready for lunch?”
Keep Out
They ate in silence. The wolf meat had an earthy quality to it, a little like game. An acquired taste perhaps in other circumstances, but they were all too starved to care.
Harry sat back, his stomach pleasantly full. He observed the rest of the group as they completed their meals. Could they stay here, he wondered. There were both food and water sources close by, by way of the woods and the river. They had the means to make fire and an underground shelter that looked secure enough, assuming that the heavy metal lid that was currently wide open could be secured at night.
As if reading his thoughts, Glenda said, “I suppose I should give you the guided tour. I might have something for your friend’s pain too, down below. You think you can manage the ladder one-handed?” she asked Bumper, who nodded a reply. “Okay great, Harry will go ahead, just in case you need a hand down anyway,” she turned to Lavender and Carson, “then you two. I’ll follow you down. Ready?”
Carson watched as Harry supplemented the fire with what appeared to a fallen bough, its ends rounded and blunt, the faintest hint of moss upon the bark. The man stood, watching as the flames took hold. Apparently satisfied that it would burn without further attention, he turned and led the way down the ladder, Bumper following carefully and painfully after him.
“After you,” Carson said, putting a solicitous hand on Lavender’s lower back and ushering her forwards. He wanted to mouth some word of caution to her; impossible under Glenda’s supervision. Instead, he tried to convey the possibility of a danger he had not yet identified by means of a look of warning. Lavender looked at him, obviously puzzled. Thankfully, for once she held her tongue rather than demanding churlishly what the problem was. Perhaps she felt some unnamed menace here too.
Glenda was the last to descend the ladder. Once below ground she pushed her way forward to the front of the group.
“Aren’t you going to close the hatch?” Carson asked.
“No need to,” Glenda sounded assured, “No one ever comes here,”
“We came here!”
Glenda’s eyes narrowed, “Are you a threat?”
“No,”
“Then no need to close it. Right, this way,” She set off, leading them down a narrow, whitewashed corridor.
The cement floor of the corridor was dry, littered near the opening with a few brittle leaves. The leaves thinned out and eventually disappeared the further along they walked. Carson looked up to see large, circular lights recessed into the ceiling. The tiny corpses of dead flies and moths dotted their glass casings, leaving Carson wondering how the insects ever managed to get inside. They must have put a lot of effort into their own deaths, he mused.
As it lengthened the corridor widened, eventually reaching a fork where it led both left and right, exactly as the river did.
On the wall of the left-hand fork was a large ‘No Entry’ sign, the same as that on the fence panel outside, alongside another reading ‘Authorised Personnel Only.’
Another sign bore the logo that someone or something had tried to obscure on the sign outside. This one was intact and readable, showing a large yellow triangle bordered in thick black, inside which was the universally recognised symbol of a skull and cross bones. Directly beneath were the words, ‘Danger! Hazardous Chemicals.’
Glenda was watching him. She saw he had noticed the sign, yet carried on as if it was nothing, taking them down the right-hand corridor. Lavender didn’t appear to have seen, her head down and hands in her pockets like a sulky scuffing teenager. Carson felt a sudden wave of irritation with her. She was a grown woman, not a hormone ridden youth.
Bumper was shuffling like one of the undead himself. His very posture gave away just how much pain he was in, no doubt riddled with exhaustion too. He was in no fit state to notice anything beyond his own needs.
As they went on Carson saw that there were doors set at regular intervals into the walls lining the corridor. They appeared in an alternating pattern; a door on the left, a door on the right and so on, until the corridor came to a head in a single, large room. This was apparently as far as it went.
He was surprised to find a light burning here. He looked at Glenda questioningly.
“Generator,” she supplied.
There was a row of bunkbeds lined up against the wall on either side; four to the left, four to the right. Lining the far wall was some sturdy looking shelving, occupying most of the space. The top few rows appeared to be filled with jars, bottles and equipment that indicated some chemical or scientific purpose. The lower shelving was filled with tinned foodstuffs, some dried goods, a few bottles of water and, thank whatever God you might still believe in, medical supplies.
Putting aside his misgivings for now, Carson turned to Glenda.
“Can you help Bumper? He’s been in some pain for a while now and I’m not sure what state his arm is in under that excuse for a dressing. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to get him sorted before we do anything else,” He filled his words with meaning, fully intending her to understand there were a few things he would like to talk about later.
“Of course,” Glenda shrugged, “Sit him down over here,”
She padded the mattress of a bottom bunk, then crossed to the first aid kit.
Carson did as he was bid, guiding Bumper to the bed and helping him sit. The man’s face was grey with pain.
“Take it easy mate,” Carson reassured him, “It looks like she might be able to help you out,”
Bumper nodded, looking like he was just about ready to submit to almost anything.
Glenda returned with the kit and sat next to Bumper. She clicked open the case, slipped on a pair of disposable gloves – a move that seemed faintly ridiculous to Carson, given the circumstances – then carefully and gently began cutting away the soaking wet sling and the sleeve beneath.
The fabric of Bumper’s shirt clung tight to the obviously swollen flesh beneath it. Glenda worked the scissors gently beneath the fabric as she cut, revealing a red and pulsing limb. Bumper winced as she made the gentlest of touches to his elbow. Undeterred, she continued until the whole arm was exposed and a small bundle of dirty fabric lay discarded at her feet.
“It’s infected, which is not great news, “she said, “so the first thing I’m going to do is clean it. This might sting a bit Bumper. Just grit your teeth okay because it’s got to be done, otherwise this will end up killing you from the inside out,”
She went back to the shelves, selecting a couple of items before returning.
Lavender had crossed to a large rectangular table that stood in the middle of the room. She pulled out a chair and sank wearily into it. Seeing he could do nothing to help, Carson left Bumper to Glenda’s ministrations and went to join her.
The table was strewn with an assortment of items. A few tools, a torch, a box holding a variety of batteries. Dirty mugs left rings on the wood, three plates, soiled but empty, lay next to them. A pile of yellowing newspapers teetered messily in one corner. An open notepad, pen at rest upon it, topped the pile off.
In her infuriatingly child-like way, Lavender reached for the pad, flipped to a clean page and began to doodle; a mess of amoeba-shaped forms and pointless scribbles soon covering the page. Harry, who had been standing quietly aside, his arms folded defensively across his chest, strode across the room to snatch it from her in one deft movement, tucking the pen into the crook of his thumb.
“Hey!” Lavender yelped, surprised.
“Take it easy mate,” Carson said.
“Leave things alone,” Harry snarled. He stashed the note pad on one of the higher shelves, then sat on a bunk, elbows on his knees, watching them both warily.
“She didn’t mean any harm,” Carson appeased.
“Can’t she speak for herself?”
Lavender blushed, “What’s the big deal? Look, I’m sorry, okay? I won’t touch anything again,”
“Make sure you don’t,”
“Harry, back off,” Glenda said, helping Bumper to lie back on the pillow and rest, “She meant nothing by it,”
In response, Harry got to his feet and marched out, back up the corridor. Carson heard a door slam and assumed he had gone off into one of the side rooms.
“How’s he doing?” Lavender asked of Bumper when Glenda came to join them.
“I think if we manage to fight off infection, keep the limb clean and well supported, he should be okay. I’ve given him an antibiotic to help with that. He ought to sleep now that I’ve given him a mild sedative. That should help the healing process too,”
“A sedative?” Carson asked, suspiciously.
“Yes. Nothing too powerful, don’t worry. He’s on the verge of collapsing but at the same time he’s too tired to sleep. He needed something,”
Carson narrowed his eyes. Even though he knew she was probably right, he didn’t like the idea of just delivering Carson into a stranger’s hands. He liked still less the idea that stranger could slip Bumper whatever the hell she liked without his knowledge.
“I don’t suppose I could have some too, could I?” Lavender asked, surprising him.
“What do you need a sedative for?” He hated the way he sounded; like an overly-protective father.
“Are you kidding me? I thought you of all people realised what a nervous wreck I am ninety per cent of the time. It feels like I haven’t slept properly in forever. All I want is a couple of hours not knowing what’s happening, and not caring either,” she turned her wide-eyed, pleading look upon Glenda, “Well, could I?”
Glenda appeared to consider, “I don’t know. I mean, the few medicines we have here are precious to us. They’re not to be used lightly,”
“Please,” Lavender begged, “I’d give anything for some real, solid sleep. Look at it this way; I’ll be much more use to everyone when I wake up refreshed and recharged,”
Glenda gave Lavender a dubious look, as if to say she doubted that very much. Then she relented, “Okay, but only one pill and only this once. You don’t ask again, right?”
“Right,” Lavender agreed, already on her way to the bunk above Bumper, who was snoring gently.
“Lavender!” Carson protested. It was no good. Giving him a look that told him her mind was made up, Lavender swallowed a pill with a small glass of water that Glenda handed up to her. She rolled herself up in the blanket and turned her back to them.
“She’ll be fine,” Glenda said, screwing the lid back on a small brown vial, “Don’t you trust me?”
Carson gave a grin, “Why should I trust you? It’s not so long since you were pointing a gun at me,”
“Oh, come off it, a lot’s happened since then. I’ve fed you, taken you in, taken care of your friends. How else can I prove I’m no threat?”
“Okay, even if you’re not, what about Harry?” Carson asked.
“What about him? Can you blame him if he’s a bit wary? He’s much the same as you,” she added, her lips pursing.
“If you say so,” Carson said, “So let’s talk about one or two other things, shall we?”
“Such as?”
“Such as, what the hell is this place? There are warning signs outside, and in the corridor back there. Where are we? More to the point, how did you know about this place?”
Glenda sighed. She picked up a dinner knife that had been lying across one of the plates and began to fiddle with it absently, stabbing its point into the table and twirling it this way and that between her hands.
“I know you saw the signs. You have to realise how old they are,”
“Bullshit,” Carson cut in, “They look modern enough to me,”
Glenda sighed again, lowering her eyes to avoid meeting his gaze. Carson watched her closely. Her blonde hair was thick with grey at the roots, beginning to streak the whole of her head. Her expression was at once open yet cautious. There were crows’ feet at her eyes, fine lines around her mouth, creases crossing her forehead; a world of worry in her face. Her pale lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval before she spoke again.
“However it may look to you, I am telling you those signs are old. As for how I knew this place was here, the answer is, I didn’t.”
“I suppose you just stumbled upon it?”
“Just like you did, yes.”
Touché, Carson thought silently. “So what is it then, this building?”
“It seems it was some kind of illegal laboratory,” she looked up at him, her blue eyes still vivid and full of intelligence, “I know, straight out of a superhero comic or a conspiracy theorists dream, right?” she smiled.
Carson refused to return it. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, “Go on,”
Glenda put the knife down, folding her hands together, elbows on the table, looking for all the world as if she was offering up a prayer, “Some scientist or other had been denied funding for a research project he was pioneering. At least, that was the rumour. He began living a double life, continuing his legitimate work in the employ of the government, whilst quietly building this place on the side. As with most whacky theorists, he had a loyal little band that was willing to help with the work. They helped fund it too, I believe. It’s amazing really, that he got away with it. He was well into his research when he was finally rumbled for theft at work. His manager realised he had been helping himself to all kinds of interesting little bits and pieces and sacked him on the spot. He narrowly missed being thrown in jail, though I’m not sure how. Anyway, the furore died down, the dust settled and he disappeared into obscurity. That’s what I heard, anyway.”
Carson considered, “So you did know about this place?”
“Not exactly. Like I say, I’d heard the rumours and thought it was just another urban myth. I really did stumble upon it by accident. The location of the island was never disclosed, so it’s not as if that piece of information was out there for just anyone to pick up,”
“How come?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe the authorities kept that to themselves. I don’t suppose they’d want anyone else finding it and getting ideas.”
“I doubt it. If they’d found it they would have stripped it bare and shut it down,”
“Maybe he never told them where it was. Perhaps that was a secret he took to his grave.”
“You think he’s dead then, this mad scientist? You said just now that he had disappeared,”
She shrugged and lowered her eyes, her only answer to the question;
Carson’s curiosity intensified, “What was this research he was so into?”
Glenda bit her lower lip and dipped her head. It was another question she obviously didn’t want to answer.
“Well?”
Over on the bunk, Lavender cried out in her sleep. She began flailing, repelling some unseen attacker, her legs kicking wildly, loosening the covers and threatening to send her over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Glenda jumped up, murmuring something about stress and exhaustion. He knew it was an avoidance tactic, but he let her go tend to Lavender.
He needed to think. Glenda’s story sounded convincing enough, if a little far-fetched, but something about it didn’t fit.
Lavender fell quiet again. Glenda tucking her in tightly like a helpless child. Watching her, Carson felt an overwhelming and unwelcome rush of tiredness himself. Unable to supress a yawn, he raised a hand to his mouth to cover it.
“I don’t imagine any of you slept too well on that river bank last night,” Glenda said, “Why don’t you take a bunk and get some sleep? There’s nothing else you can do for now and your friends are already in the land of nod,”
He wanted to say no, to sit up and keep a weather eye on things around here. He wanted more than anything to talk some more, but the fact was he was bone-tired, “I won’t be taking any sleeping pills,” he warned.
Glenda stood, scraping back her chair, “I don’t think you’ll be needing any.”
He fell gratefully into one of the bunks, his racing mind trying to process this new information, attempting to frame the most searching, probing questions when he next had a chance to speak to Glenda.
He was asleep bare seconds after his head hit the pillow.
Feeding Time
The room was in darkness when Carson awoke, the ceiling lights in the corridor his only guide by which to orient himself. He had no way of knowing how long he had slept, but a quick check told him that both Lavender and Bumper were still dead to the world.
He wondered if he should wake them, then thought better of it. If they were wakened before the effects of the sleeping pills had worn off, chances are they would be sluggish and dull-witted. He let them be.
He found the light switch buried into the wall beside the door, but refrained from flicking it in case he woke the others. At a loss for anything else constructive to do for the time being, he headed down the corridor in search of Glenda or Harry. If he was lucky there might be another meal in the offing – the wolf had rendered a lot of meat and he didn’t imagine there was anywhere to store it safely for long. Or perhaps a drink to be had, he was suddenly thirsty.
Belatedly, Carson remembered the bottled water on the shelves. He was about to turn back and get one, when a noise stopped him in his tracks.
A low moan. He knew that sound; knew it in his very bones. If some zombie had managed to cross the river and find its way to the open hatch, things could get very cosy down here very soon.
Wishing he had insisted Glenda close it, Carson crept cautiously forward. He had reached the junction in the corridor. Wondering where the hell everyone was, afraid to shout and attract attention, he decided to forgo exploring the other corridor and instead inched slowly towards the entrance.
