Mass Extinction Event: The Complete Fourth Series (Days 54 to 61) (10 page)

Elizabeth

“What the hell is going on?” I blurt out as soon as I spot my father at the far end of the room. Limping through the door, I make my way over to him as fast as I can manage, although I almost fall several times.

“Lizzie!” he says with a smile, stepping toward me with his arms outstretched. “Welcome to the command center for the entire city!”

“What did you do to my foot?” I ask, leaning against a desk. “It's not my foot!”

Nearby, a couple of technicians glance up from their screens.

“Lizzie,” my father continues, putting a hand on my shoulder, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“The foot on my right leg,” I continue, still a little breathless, “is not
my
foot. Whose is it?”

He looks down at the gray-green foot. “I honestly don't know,” he says after a moment, before looking into my eyes. “Lizzie, please -”

“You're in charge of everything,” I tell him, trying not to panic even though I feel as if my flesh is crawling. “You have to know what's going on!”

“At Mitchfield,” he replies, “you were under the care of Doctor Kennedy and her team. I was told merely that your foot had been recovered and reattached, and that she was conducting some kind of experiment involving a new type of gel that would encourage regrowth. She specifically told me that your original foot was located in the forest and that thanks to some hard work and a little luck, it was deemed suitable for reattachment. I must admit, I was a little surprised by the news, but I trusted Doctor Kennedy completely.”

“It's not my foot,” I continue, trying not to panic. “It's someone else's, it must have come from a dead person. I don't want this
thing
attached to me! There might even be maggots in it! They might crawl through into my body!”

“What did Doctor Sukan say?”

“He said it's growing new nerves and new skin and that it should be as good as new, but whatever he says, none of it matters because it's
not my foot
!”

“Well, it kind of is now,” he replies. “I mean, a foot can't be ownerless. It has to be someone's, right? And it's attached to you, so -”

“I want it taken off,” I tell him.

“Lizzie -”

“I don't want a dead person's foot attached to my leg!”

“What did Doctor Sukan say about maggots?”

“He said there aren't any, but that's not the point! It's still not my foot!”

“Couldn't you tell it wasn't your original foot already?” he asks. “I feel as if, if I was in your situation, I'd have worked that out on my own.”

“I didn't look at it that closely,” I tell him, trying not to let my anger show. “Most of the time it was bandaged, so I couldn't see! Anyway, it's completely discolored, how was I suppose to know?”

“Okay,” he replies, “calm down, we'll talk to Doctor Sukan about the options, and I'm sure we can come to some kind of solution. Meanwhile, I'll contact Mitchfield and see if Doctor Kennedy can explain what's going on, although the last I heard she was in isolation and it wasn't easy to get any sense out of her.”

“Sir,” says one of the technicians, “the team is waiting for your order.”

“Tell them to go,” my father says, turning to look at the bank of monitors on the far side of the room. “Tell them to execute plan A as discussed.”

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to stay calm.

“I'm sending a few helicopters out to Lake Erie,” he explains. “When we picked up the radio transmission the other night between you and that Thomas boy, we made a recording. After listening back to it, we realized there must be quite a few people out there, so I thought it would be a good idea to send someone out to take a look.”

“To rescue them?”

“First we need to find out what's going on,” he continues. “We can't just scoop people up and bring them here without checking them first. For all we know, they might be infected.”

“The guy I spoke to wasn't infected,” I tell him.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I mean... I could just
tell
. He didn't talk like one of the creatures.”

“Maybe they've become better at disguising themselves,” he points out. “Either way, Lizzie, we have to act with caution at all times. After everything we've managed to achieve here in Boston -”

“Sir,” one of the technicians says suddenly, sounding worried, “we've got a possible breach of the southern wall. Four males are in the second sector.”

“Where are the guards?” my father asks.

“They look to have been overpowered. Should I sent the guards from adjacent checkpoints to intervene?”

“No,” my father says, heading over to look at the monitor, “that might be what they want us to do, so more of them can get through. They're still not even close to penetrating the city, so send an intercept team out to apprehend them.”

Limping over to join him, I watch as a grainy monitor shows footage of four figures racing along what appears to be an abandoned street. They seem desperate, stopping regularly in doorways as if they're terrified of being seen, but every few seconds they run to another hiding place, and then another. When the camera view changes, I realize that all four of the men are hurt and bleeding, and one of them is limping heavily.

“You have to help them,” I say after a moment. “They're injured.”

“They might be a lot more dangerous than that,” my father says calmly.

“Intercept team on its way,” one of the technicians says.

“This happens a lot,” my father continues, turning to me. “People try to breach the defenses and gain access. Word travels fast, Lizzie, and people know that we've got a good thing up and running here in Boston. We've been bolstering our defenses on a daily basis, but resources are still thinly-stretched and these people are ingenious. There are posters up on the outer walls, warning them not to try to come in, but they don't pay any attention. We have to show them that we have no mercy for people who break our rules.”

“Maybe they're just hungry,” I point out, “or in pain.” I watch the monitor as the four men reach another street.

“We've all been hungry,” he replies, “and we're all in pain. That doesn't mean we can just throw our doors open. The council and I agreed on a zero tolerance attitude to intruders, and we have to stick to that.”

“But -”

I watch as suddenly several soldiers appear on the screen, firing what appears to be rifles. In quick succession, all four of the original intruders drop to the group, and the soldiers hurry over to check on them. After a moment, one of the soldiers fires again, causing blood to burst from the head of one of the downed men.

“Are those darts?” I ask, stepping closer to the monitor as I try to make out the grainy image. “Dad, those men were only shot with darts, weren't they?”

“Zero tolerance, Lizzie,” he replies, as the soldiers start dragging the dead bodies away. “If we're going to save ourselves, we have to be tough.”

***

Sitting in my room a few hours later, I manage to get my right leg raised so that it's resting on my left knee, and finally I start looking at the stitches that are holding 'my' foot in place. The skin of the foot is a kind of gray-green color, as if it's dead or dying, and thick metal staples are firmly embedded in the flesh. When I look closer, I realize that I can see my skin starting to grow into the foot, as if my body is starting to accept the new foot.

A shiver passes through my body as I think about whoever the foot belonged to originally. It's part of a dead person, and it's been stuck on me like -

Suddenly I hear a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I say cautiously, figuring that Alison or Charles must have returned. When the door opens, however, I see that my father has come to see me. “Hey,” I continue, forcing a smile even though he's the last person I want to see right now.

“Hey,” he says as he steps inside and pushes the door shut. “So I could tell you were upset earlier in the control room, and I figured that instead of letting the situation fester, I should come and talk to you properly. You must have a lot of questions, and maybe I threw you in at the deep end a little too early.”

“Why did you have those four men murdered?” I ask.

“I didn't.”

“I saw the video. They died!”

“But they weren't murdered, Lizzie. They were executed, there's a big difference.”

“They're still dead.”

“And if they'd made it all the way into the heart of the city, into the main zone where we are now, the rest of us might have gone the same way. For all we know, those men were infected and they would have spread the sickness.”

“So you could have quarantined them,” I point out, “or reasoned with them. You didn't have to kill them!”

“These people are desperate,” he replies. “From bitter experience, I can tell you that they wouldn't have listened.”

I stare at him for a moment, shocked by the hardness in his voice.

“You're a doctor,” I say finally. “A scientist, someone who tries to help people... But suddenly you're talking more like a soldier.”

“Those distinctions don't really apply here,” he tells me. “We all have to think like soldiers when it comes to defending ourselves.”

“But I remember...” Pausing for a moment, I think back to the old days, before all of this started. “I remember you telling me once that human life is sacred. You wanted me to understand that there's never any excuse for hurting another person. Don't you remember that day you sat me and Henry down and gave us a big lecture? It was kind of embarrassing at the time, but now I know exactly what you meant.”

“I
do
remember that day,” he replies with a faint smile, “but what you have to understand, Lizzie, is that the world was very different back then. It was simpler, and we were lucky, we could afford to have those values. Right now, those very
same
values would get us killed.”

“So we're supposed to change who we are, just because the world has changed around us?”

“It's not quite so clinical,” he continues. “I didn't enjoy ordering those men to be tracked down. No-one in their right mind could give an order like that without feeling sick to his stomach, it's just... It's something that has to be done. Lizzie, because this is the world we live in now. You'll understand when you start working here. It'll take a few days, but you'll start to think the way the rest of us think.”

“I can't ever do something like that,” I tell him.

“I think you'll find that you can.”

I shake my head.

“So are you telling me that nothing's changed for you at all?” he asks, taking a seat on the bed next to me. “The last time I saw you, Lizzie, you were still my little girl. And now here we are, two months later, and I can see that something's different in your eyes.” He pauses for a moment, as if he's nervous about the next question. “Have you had to kill anyone?”

As soon as he asks, I feel a shiver pass through my body as I remember the moment when I plunged the knife into Bob's chest.

“You don't need to say yes,” he continues. “I can guess.”

“It was different,” I stammer. “I was fighting for my life, he'd have killed me! He'd already killed Henry! I was defending myself!”

“And that's what I was doing when I ordered those men to be intercepted,” he replies. “I was fighting for my life, and for the lives of the other eighty people here in the city. I was defending us. Most of the people in this city don't really know what has to be done in order to guarantee their safety. I have to live with the knowledge of my actions, and it's the same for the other people on the council. We all know that we're sacrificing parts of ourselves, good parts, in order to keep the whole community going. It's almost noble, in a way.”

“You keep mentioning this council,” I reply. “Who are they, exactly?”

“A small group of eminent figures who held responsible positions in the old world,” he explains. “I'm fortunate enough to be one of them. We make decisions for the good of the whole city.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “It's thanks to my position on the council that I was able to pull some strings and rescue you. For that benefit alone, I make no apologies.”

Sighing, I look down at my foot again.

“It's just hard,” I whisper. “I want things to go back to how they were.”

“Me too,” he replies. He pauses for a moment. “I can totally see why you're horrified by that foot, by the way. It must have been a huge shock when you learned the truth. I got in touch with General Patterson at Mitchfield base, but Doctor Kennedy is currently under sedation and none of the rest of her team know what was going on. Personally, though, I think you should stick it out. Any foot's better than no foot, right?”

“It's not mine,” I tell him, feeling faintly nauseous. “How would you like it if someone stuck a part of some dead person onto
you
?”

“I'd be disgusted,” he continues, “and on a visceral level I'd want to tear it off, but I think I'd also recognize that I needed to be rational. I can arrange for Doctor Sukan to remove the foot if you really want, but why don't you just try it for a few more days? You've been granted a miracle, Lizzie, and I think you should at least give it a shot.”