Extinct (AM13 Outbreak Series), page 12
“Then we’d be dead! They only agreed to help us for the cure.” I’m raging at him now. How could he be so damn stupid?
He sighs deeply rather than continuing this pointless row. “It doesn’t matter now. Luckily I think we’re going to be okay.” I smile smugly, but Andy ignores me. “I didn’t know those guys—I never worked with them. They could be anyone! I just thought it best not to say…” He stares into my eyes and I can see his emotions flickering all over the place. “They just seemed so suspicious of Tom.”
“Aren’t you?” I say, knowing I’m being a little spiteful now.
“And I didn’t want to risk everything we’ve been working for.” He moves towards me and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. “But now that I’ve had a proper conversation with them—Hugo and Noah, I think they said their names were—and explained everything in detail, it all seems all right. I think they’re good guys.”
I feel the skin of his hand brush against mine and it sends small electrical shots through my whole body. Our eyes don’t leave each other, I can feel myself leaning in towards him and I have no idea why. For a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me and for some reason I actually want him to. I can feel an excited, burning sensation consuming me. I almost pucker my lips, ready, waiting.
But then he pulls my head into his chest and hugs me tightly.
My laboured breathing starts to calm down as I lean into his body, allowing him to take my weight. I’m glad he hugged me, I’m definitely glad we didn’t kiss. It’s Tom that I like. Tom who kissed me back at the island—a kiss that was full of promise and a future. If anything happened with Andy, that would ruin everything.
Yep, I’m over the moon nothing happened.
That empty sadness inside of me has nothing to do with what didn’t happen just then.
Nothing at all.
We stay like that for a long time, just clinging to each other. Then something changes, shifts in the room. No, not in the room, inside me. I no longer inhale his scent taking in its comforting, musky warmth. It becomes something else, a temptation.
I pull back sharply, as if I’ve been burnt. If Andy thinks that my behaviour is strange, he doesn’t react. He simply lies down wordlessly, ready to sleep—the exhaustion is evident in his eyes. I feel it too, like a lead balloon working its way through me. I imitate Andy, glad to rest my weary body. All of this hiding, this secrecy of what’s happening to me is wearing me down. I’ll be glad to get this all done with. Soon it’ll all be over. Soon I can be myself again.
My eyes flicker, starting to shut, but Andy wraps his arms around me, which annoyingly sends all of my senses on edge and awakens me up entirely once more, but then he runs his fingers through my hair and my body responds by happily shutting down into a relatively dreamless sleep.
I almost feel like I can hear him whispering something into my ear, just as I’m on the edge, but it’s too quiet for me to hear.
***
I walk tentatively, appearing to carefully examine the map—which I have insisted that I keep control of, despite the many protests—but really I’m desperately trying to plan the best tactic for this day, this meeting.
I don’t even know if this Michael is expecting any of us—never mind gun-toting soldiers, who don’t seem to care too much for being courteous. I know the scientist has a connection with Tom, but he doesn’t know a single one of us. Why would he even begin to trust us? I know Andy gave a whole bunch of logical, sound reasons for why he should come on this mission and Tom should stay on the island, but right now I can’t remember a single one. It seems absolutely mental that Tom isn’t here!
I’m acutely aware of all the weapons being brandished behind me. A part of me feels like the guns are all trained upon my head, just waiting for me to slip up. I know they don’t fully believe in this cure, and for that reason I’m a colossal possible threat. It’s a massive struggle to keep all of my emotions in check, but I don’t have any choice. I can’t give them an excuse to kill me, I just can’t.
“This way?” The man I now know is Hugo hisses angrily in my ear, and I nod, totally unsure. This wasn’t what I was expecting to find at the end of this map at all—a tiny shack in a woodlands area. I thought we were dealing with a decent laboratory here, someone who knew what the hell they were doing, a proper real life scientist. This has to be wrong; it must be some sort of joke. It looks like the set of a crappy horror movie. I can almost see the group of annoying teenagers driving up for their “holiday” before all hell breaks loose and they all end up dead.
Death is not what I want to be thinking about right now!
This cannot be the place where the human race is saved, it just can’t be.
I glance over to Andy for some sort of reassurance, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s staring over to the same shack with as much uncertainty as I feel. He’s actually gone totally pale, as if all the colour has drained from his face.
Oh God, that’s a terrible sign!
If Andy has lost faith in this mission, then it must be a no-go. That means no cure, no assistance for me, everything…lost.
Over.
I want to be sick.
And then, just to add to my dread, an odd shaped shadow wanders outside, acting sketchy, as if whoever it belongs to is up to no good.
Is that Michael? Is he real? What the hell are we going to find if we carry on with this?
Maybe we should just turn around, try to find someone else, someone—
“Hello?” Hugo calls out; using what I assume he thinks is an authoritative tone. It actually just makes him sound like a bit of an arrogant prick. “Michael, I assume?”
The shady guy finally spins around to face us all, and the first thing I’m taken aback by, is how dark and menacing his eyes look. He has the odd look of a serial killer—I can almost picture him with an axe hacking apart the idiotic movie teenagers. Then I scan down his stumpy body and I see his pasty skin, the sweat pouring down his face and his grime-covered clothing. I know none of us are looking particularly fabulous, but this is on another level entirely. He’s caked in dried blood, mud, and what could be guts—and it’s as if he doesn’t even notice. As if he doesn’t even care.
A breath escapes me. I wonder how long I’ve been holding it in for, I hadn’t even noticed. My body tingles, my palms slick with fear.
How the hell did I end up in this dangerous situation after spending so much of my time just trying to stay safe?
“Did Tom send you?” He smiles as he drawls his words, as if he’s trying to look warm and inviting, but it just comes across as even more terrifying, sinister.
“What exactly is it that you’re doing here?” I hear Andy snap. I wonder if anyone else can sense the tremble in his voice.
“Well, everyone.” Michael steps forward, opening his arms. I instantly move back, wanting to keep him away from me, but I’m blocked by the people behind me. It’s only this that prevents me from running far away as fast as I can. I just feel really wrong about this place—I know Tom said this was what I needed to do, but my intuition is screaming at me, literally filling my head with notions of escape. “Now that I have the cure Dr. Jones created, I’m going to really get this operation up and running. I’ve been working on all of this for such a long time, and now I can really do it! I’m going to have enough produced for everyone. We can make sure nothing like this ever happens again.” He laughs in an oddly manic fashion.
“In here?” Hugo—or maybe it’s Noah, I’m not really concentrating anymore—asks, and rightfully so. What the fuck does this strange guy think that he’s going to get done in that nightmare of a place? “Surely you’re going to need more of a lab for that? Somewhere cleaner, sterilised, with equipment and stuff?”
“Well, that would be nice.” The guy smirks, a strange energy seeming to seep from all of his pores. “But since you guys have been killing everyone here—I’ve had to keep out of sight. Fortunately here has actually worked well for me…although it does make me wonder where else you might have missed…”
“Don’t be naïve. You know why that’s been happening—you’re a smart guy. As for areas missed, do you seriously think this operation is anywhere near over? Don’t be so damn stupid!”
“Oh, I know. I hear what you’re saying. But your little…mission has still hindered my work. If you hadn’t met this…” He gestures towards me, looking me up and down in a fashion I don’t like one bit. “Young lady with information and a product from Tom and Dr. Jones, you wouldn’t have even begun to listen to reason. You can’t deny that.”
“Should we look for somewhere for him to do his work?” Noah—this time I’m certain that it’s him—asks aloud.
Hugo lets out a deep sigh. I’m too afraid, frozen on the spot. I can’t even think about moving or talking. “Yes, that makes sense.”
My heart is thumping; my breaths are coming out ragged, laboured. I don’t this, any of it. Not one bit. I need to go, to get out of here, we all do. Why won’t Andy look at me? If I could just catch his eye I might be able to see what he thinks. I could convey what I’m thinking!
“Come in,” Michael drawls again. “Come inside, to see what I’m doing for yourself. I have food and water; you all look like you could do with something to eat. I can’t really explain it all to you out here. Maybe once you’ve had a look, you’ll realise that everything I’m doing is right.”
Oh God, please no.
No, no, no.
Surely no one will agree to that?!
I finally work up the courage to turn around, internally pleading that no one is going to go along with this. We can’t go inside. I don’t want to. I want to have some time, some space, to figure out what I’m going to do with the cure. Even if this man is a scientist, and recommended by Tom, I don’t know if I’m going to give it to him yet. I don’t trust him—especially not with the fate of humanity. There’s just something very weird about him.
To my horror, everyone seems agreeable with his suggestion—probably driven by the promise of food and the ability to see exactly what’s going on behind closed doors here. I admit that I’m intrigued, but the trepidation is much more prominent. I try to catch anyone’s attention to quietly convey my negative opinion about all of this, but no one even looks at me. It’s as if my opinion isn’t important, as if I’m not the one who has the cure, who’s taken the cure, the one who now has the special blood.
They all seem more concerned with Melody’s well-being than mine.
Why does that make me feel so viciously annoyed?
Once the others have all agreed, there’s no way I can leave without a solid, coherent reason, and as hard as I try, I just can’t think of one. If only my brain wasn’t so addled…
I’m so focused on trying to think of a way I can get out of this, or at the very least keep myself and the vial safe, that I don’t even acknowledge my new surroundings, and before I’ve even registered what’s happening, a plate of food has been placed in front of me.
I wonder what I’ve missed as I watch everyone else tuck in to their dinner happily as they talk and joke with one another as if they are old friends—not people who have just met. This whole setup seems very strange to me. Have I just completely lost a whole block of time? No, that can’t be right. If I was on some sort of autopilot, my behaviour would have been picked up on. I’m not exactly high up on the “trusted” list as it is.
I try to force some food into my mouth—just to fit in with what everyone else is doing, but I feel far too sick so I end up placing it back on my plate, un-chewed. It could be fear, I could be ill, or it could be something else entirely. All I know for sure is that whatever this mush is; it isn’t what I want, what I desire inside of me. I try to pretend, to act like I’m eating, I cut everything up and push it around my plate, but I don’t think anyone is convinced.
At one point, Michael catches my eye knowingly, and I drag my gaze away to stare at the ground as my body heats up with embarrassment. If he says something, anything, to the others then I’m in serious danger. Much as I wish he didn’t, I’m sure that more than anyone else, he will recognise the internal battle raging on within me. He will see that the cure is acting slowly, that I’m having to fight against the virus more and more regularly with every passing second. I try to telepathically communicate with him to not say anything—albeit pointlessly. I just know it’ll only take one word for me to be blown to smithereens and I don’t want that.
I will survive, I’ll be fine in the end, I just know it!
But before I get the chance to risk another look, to figure out what Michael intends to do with the information, everyone slumps over their plates one by one, completely and utterly out of it.
I stand up, automatically, astonished.
Has this madman killed everyone? Even Melody—a child?
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
“Don’t worry, they’re only sleeping.” Michael smiles serenely at me, as if this should somehow make what he’s done better. “I knew it was the only way I’d get a chance to speak to you…alone.”
His emphasis on that last word sends shivers up my spine. My blood runs icy cold and my heart starts to pound at the thought of being with this guy by myself—with no witnesses. There’s no telling what he will do to me—he could literally get away with anything.
How could they all be so naïve? How could Andy do this to me?
I discreetly glance around, trying to see if there is any way of escape, wondering if I’ll be able to run fast enough—to get away in time.
“Now, tell me what’s really going on.” He draws nearer to me, intimidating me. Despite his small stature, he’s taller than me, and likely stronger than I am—especially in my current state.
While I work out what to do, I decide to act as if I trust him in the same way that Tom does, so I muster a bright smile while my brain tries to plan.
Oh God, why the hell does Tom trust this guy?
Could it be possible that he’s not really a “bad guy”? He’s a scientist and he has been alone for a very long time, and in a horrific situation. Maybe that’s why he’s acting unusual, doing odd, unorthodox things.
But then I glance around at the guys and Melody, all pale, almost lifeless looking, slumped over the food this man kindly offered to us.
No, no one pulls this kind of shit without being more than a little fucked up.
I start to talk, just to fill the silence, just to distract him for a minute.
“Okay, um…well firstly the island has gone to hell—I don’t know how much you know about that. The infection hit and then people turned on one another. I don’t think there is anyone left in charge.”
An unexpected tear pricks my eyes at the memory of everyone dying in that awful way. Of Lily, of Jasmine, of that man who was trampled and beaten to death.
“Then Tom showed up, found me and my friend, and we immediately went to find Dr. Jones.” My memory is hazy; it’s as if I’m trying to remember a bad dream. I find myself struggling to fit the jigsaw pieces together. “There was an incident in which Dr. Jones was killed—I wasn’t there so I don’t know what happened.”
I glance over at Melody, thinking of her story once more, but still not believing that Tom could have done that. It would be so…pointless. He needed Dr. Jones. He did.
Even if he did have Michael in mind the entire time.
“Andy, me, and Melody got on the helicopter to come and find you with the cure.” I hold out the vial. “Tom stayed—along with a couple of others—to rescue the survivors. And we ran into these guys after…” I indicate towards Hugo and Noah.
“When were you bitten?” he interrupts.
I stare at him, allowing his bluntness to sink in.
“Yeah.” He grins madly. “You left out that bit of the tale, didn’t you?”
He reaches for my arm and I flinch away from him as if I’ve been burnt. I try to stare him down, but his mad, relentless eyes win out. Discomfort floods me, bile rises in my throat, and I notice a stray tear making its way down my cheek.
“At the island.” I give in, far too easily for my own liking. “There was—” I start to explain exactly how I came to be bitten, but quickly realise that part isn’t vital to the telling of the story.
Plus, my memory of the incident is very unclear. It has a nightmarish quality to it; I’m not sure how much of my recollection is true, and how much of it is an exaggeration of my own brain’s doing.
“Anyway, Tom injected me with some of the cure so I could get this vial to you. He said if there wasn’t enough here, my blood might be able to help…” I trail off at the hint of desperation in my voice, which is met by his manic laughter ringing out once more.
That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. I feel the emotion rise and desert me all at the same time. It’s like a confusing rollercoaster of feelings I cannot control.
“Oh God.” He pretends to wipe a tear away from his eye, in a dramatic, mocking gesture. “He really had you, didn’t he?”
I stare at him silently, noticing that I’m now frozen, numb, wondering what it is that I’m so clearly missing here. I don’t even react when he snatches the vial from my trembling fingers.
“This piece of piss isn’t a cure. Well, not for this, anyhow. That fucking mental Dr. Jones thought he’d found a cure for cancer…but he certainly never found anything for AM13.” He cackles, enjoying my reaction. I get the feeling he wants me to cry, that he’ll revel in it if I totally freak out.
“No.” I shake my head, determinedly, still not quite getting it. What the fuck is this guy trying to tell me? That it’s all a lie? That there’s no cure, no answer? That the stuff in the vial won’t cure the nastiness inside of me? What does that mean? What will happen? Will I…? “No, Tom wouldn’t have done that to me.” My voice is shaky, unsteady, unsure. He wouldn’t, I know that…don’t I?
“Why not?” Michael sounds genuinely surprised, amused even. “Oh my dear.” He regards me curiously. “You’re more tragic than I thought you were. Much more pathetic! You think he loves you, don’t you?”
