Surviving The Evacuation (Book 3): Family (26 page)

“Let’s see,” Quigley went on, “I think you destroyed the lab. Ruining forever any chance at recreating the vaccine. Of course, we’d have had to have done that at some point, and the lab has served its purpose. It gave everyone something to cling to. A distant hope. Well, your sabotage will give them something different. A thirst for revenge. So you destroyed the lab. That just leaves the doctor.” He turned and nodded to the general who was standing just a few paces away from the doctor.

“I’ll take that,” the General said in a kind, soothing tone as he took hold of the doctor’s rifle with his left hand. “We don’t want to wake up the people outside. Not with any accidental gunfire.” And in his right hand was a knife. He plunged it deep into the doctor’s throat, stepping smartly backwards away from the spray of blood.

“Now, where was I?” Quigley continued as the body collapsed to the floor. “Ah yes, after you killed the doctor, you destroyed the research. Or was there a struggle first? Yes, I think that would be best.” He took another step forward and pulled down the plastic sheeting. He was two paces away.

“And then, there was an interrogation.” He took another step and then hit me in the face. “I found out where you came from, where your base was. I’ll have to come up with a story about how you brainwashed a lot of the civilians. The women, at least, not that I think any of my men will care.” He hit me again. I could taste blood. “We’ll have a trial of course. Then hang you. First thing in the morning, I suppose. That’s when it’s meant to be done. A war crimes trial, for the worst criminal in history. Yes, yes. I think that will work for the history books. The final thwarting of the terrorist. Justice and revenge, the seeds of the nation’s rebirth. That leaves just one loose end. How you killed the Queen.”

I was going to fight. I just needed Quigley to hit me one last time. I’d seen a pair of scissors on the floor. One more punch and I’d fall over, grab the scissors and stab him, whilst he was still gloating. Honestly, after what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive these last six months, I think I stood a fair chance.

Jen did not.

Her leg shot out as she grabbed at his wrist. I think she was trying one of those judo moves they teach in self-defence classes. I don’t know if she’d fought anyone over the past few months. I doubt it. And she’d certainly forgotten that before he’d become a politician, Quigley had worked in covert operations. He flinched, slightly, as her foot kicked his calf, and batted her hand away. Her other hand clawed at his eyes. He ducked, twisted, grabbed and threw her across the room.

She slammed, head first, into the glass cabinet containing the vials of the virus. The glass door broke. So did the vials.

She fell to the floor surrounded by glass and liquid and blood.

“Interesting,” Quigley said, calmly. He wasn’t even out of breath. “Hold him,” he added. My arms were grabbed and pinned behind me. I hadn’t even noticed the guards approach. My attention had been on the pinpricks of blood dripping down Jen’s hands and face.

Quigley took another step back.

“Well, you are a cruel man, aren’t you?” he said. “Not satisfied with just killing her, you wanted to infect her too. My, my, what a lot of hatred you do have. She turned, naturally, and was shot. It was self defence,” he paused. “I said she was shot. One of you, please?”

“Wait,” I said. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

That was a good question. It was because she might be immune. I wasn’t going to say that to Quigley. Instead, my imagination working on overtime, I said, “The blood. My blood. Maybe it has something in it, the same thing that protects me, maybe that can be passed on. If I injected those samples the doctor took, my blood into hers, then perhaps she’d live.”

“I don’t think viruses work like that,” Quigley said.

“The small pox vaccine did, didn’t it? Jenner, cowpox and all that. Perhaps it won’t work, but what if it does? It’s got to be worth trying. Imagine if a vaccine was just that simple. Do you realise what that would mean? How easy everything would be?”

He hesitated.

“OK,” he said, slowly. “Try it.”

I doubted it would work, in fact I don’t think I believed it at all as I scrabbled around the floor for a syringe. All I could hope was that a few more minutes of life gave me a few more minutes to come up with some plan. I grabbed the samples, still cold from the fridge, scrabbled about for a needle, and injected them into her.

“That it? You done?” Quigley barked impatiently.

“What? Yes,” I said quietly, not standing up. I was scanning the ground, looking for those scissors, but they’d been kicked out of sight.

“She doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”

“She’s got concussion.” She might have done. I bent over her. Her pulse was weak, she was barely conscious, and I had no idea how much of that might be the virus and how much her injuries.

“Help her up. Take them up to her room. If it doesn’t work then we’ll say he broke in and infected her as she slept. That will fit the story. Even better if he dies in there too. There’s poetic justice in that. It’ll make a good cautionary tale for our children.”

I think that’s when I understood the depth of his madness. But it was too late. I carried Jen awkwardly back up stairs, the guards behind. They closed the door to her room behind us and locked us in. This time I could still hear them waiting outside.

Endings

“Bill?’ she mumbled as I carefully laid her down on the bed.

“It’s alright. It’s going to be alright,” I murmured. I tried to pick out the fragments of glass. It was futile. There were too many and they were too small. I gave up, and knelt on the bed next to her, her head in my lap, stroking her hair as I felt her heartbeat flutter. I knew she was dying and there was nothing I could do.

“Bill?”

“Hey Jen.”

“They made me promise not to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Your brother... I went to my father... He... I left you the book... I thought you’d get the... I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Then she died.

My mouth was dry. I tried to let go of her. I knew what was going to happen. I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t do it. But I had to. She would come back and I had to kill her. The idea was so repellent I pushed the body away and staggered to my feet. Perhaps it didn’t have to be me that killed her.

“She’s died,” I called out. “It didn’t work.”

There was no answer.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I yelled, “I said she’s dead. She’ll come back. She’ll turn. You need to come in here and finish it.”

I waited. I wasn’t sure an answer would come.

“Then you do it.” A voice finally said.

I didn’t know if I could. To start with I’d need a weapon, something heavy. That was something I could do. Find a weapon. And not think about what I’d have to do after that.

There was an old Victorian washbasin and water jug on the dresser. It was delicate, fragile and useless. I opened the drawers. They were filled with nothing but clothes. I tried the wardrobe. More clothes, all silks and satins fit for a Queen. I lifted the chair. It was heavy, but too cumbersome to be used as a bludgeon and too sturdy to break.

Fear growing, I bent down and looked under the bed. Nothing. Of course not. Quigley had his plan, he had it all planned. He knew he’d have to get rid of her one day and he wasn’t going to make his own life difficult. I cursed. Her door had been locked, hadn’t it? I’d not thought what that meant. She’d been as much a prisoner as she’d been anything else, though no doubt he’d told her it was for her own protection.

I half lifted, half dragged the body off the bed and onto the floor by the chest of drawers. I had a vague notion of lifting it up and letting the heavy oak fall down on her skull. I gripped and pushed and pulled and managed to lift it two inches.

Frantic panic now replacing the last vestiges of reason, I went back to the wardrobe. The dresses hung from a brass rail. It was flimsy but there was nothing else. I tugged. I pulled. There was a ragged gasp behind me. I stopped. I turned around. Jen had rolled onto her side.

“Jen?” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t died. What did I know about illness and heartbeats?

“Jen?” I asked again, taking a step forward.

She was on her knees now, her back to me. Her hands grasping at the carpet, her lungs grasping for air. She was alive! Perhaps it had worked. Perhaps by some crazy lucky chance I’d been right and my blood was all that was needed. Perhaps this was the answer. A genuine vaccine, and it would work for us and for everyone else on the planet. We could save so many. We’d all be safe. We’d...

Then she turned her head and I saw her face and I knew she was as dead as all of the others.

Her eyes were flecked with grey, her mouth opened and closed with a snarling snap of teeth. Her left hand swung out towards me, clawing through air. The movement unbalanced her and she fell back onto her side again. Her feet kicked and her hands clawed. The motion twisted her round and brought her back to her knees so that she was facing me once more.

And all that time I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe the person I had known so well, the girl I’d grown up with, the woman I’d loved, in my own way, had become this.

She lunged again, the movement brought her first to her knees, then to her feet and her hand snaked out, her nails gouging the flesh from my hand. I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding it out to her.

The sudden pain brought me back from the edge of shock. I stepped back just as she sent her right hand swiping forward. I skipped backward again. My legs banged against the bed. She lunged. One hand gripped and grasped at my shoulder, nails biting deep, pulling me towards her and down onto one knee.

“Jen, please!” It came out as whisper, drowned out by the guttural rasp of air as she jerked first back and then forward, her teeth snapping towards my neck.

I got my left arm up. My forearm connected with her windpipe with a sickening crunch. She didn’t notice. Her teeth kept snapping, her hands kept clawing and I knew there was only one thing that would stop her. Only one thing that could finally bring her peace.

It was the hardest thing I have ever done and I think it destroyed some small part of me.

Ignoring the pain from my shoulder I pushed myself back up to my feet. I punched, twisted and shoved until her grip loosened and I could pull myself free. I grabbed her arms and, with all the strength I could muster, lifted her from her feet. She struggled. I couldn’t hold her. Together we fell in a heap onto the floor. Her hands were everywhere, tearing and clawing as her teeth kept snapping down.

I pushed her down, raised my fist and brought it down onto her face. The blow knocked her back, her skull hit the carpet. I hit her again. And again. And finally I was free.

I got back to my feet.

I stamped down on her head.

And again.

She stopped moving.

She was dead.

I don’t know how long I stood there. It was long enough for the bloody gore to stop pooling around her body. An hour. Perhaps two. Perhaps less. I couldn’t say except that it was still dark outside, when the door opened.

There was a grunt as a powerful light was shone down on Jen’s corpse.

“Right,” a voice said. The light shone on my face. “The Prime Minister wants to see you.”

I didn’t move.

“Now.”

Quigley was in The Gallery, in the same chair he’d sat in at dinner. He wasn’t alone. Behind him stood the General. Opposite was my brother.

“Sorry Bill,” Sholto said as I walked into the room. His eyes widened as I walked into the pool of candlelight and he saw me properly.

“Turns out you did have some use,” Quigley said. “You two can leave us,” he added, and the two soldiers left the room.

“She’s dead. Jen’s dead. I killed her. I had to kill her with my hands because you...”

“Yes, yes,” Quigley interrupted. “The big boys are talking, so why don’t you just be quiet.”

“The old man tricked you, Bill,” Sholto said, “or he didn’t tell you the whole truth. As soon as I realised you’d gone I got it out of him. Not that it took much to work it out. He asked you to radio the submarine, to get it to surrender or stand down or something.”

“No, to get Jen to... to persuade them it was over.”

“Which, if you’d taken the time to think about it, was not going to happen. He just wanted the submarine to break radio silence so the Vehement could find and sink it.”

“Oh.” I didn’t care. It didn’t seem to matter.

“We’re doing a trade,” The General said. “Your life for their submarine.”

“Two nuclear powers was always one too many,” Sholto said. “It’s too dangerous. So one has to go and it doesn’t matter which. If the old man had told us the truth, and not sent you out here on your own, then it would have been his I’d have tried to save. But he did, so it’s Quigley who’ll win. For now. He reckons he’ll rule the waves. I say he’s wrong. In five years, ten at the most, that submarine will have broken down. It’ll be useless. But he wants ten years and I want an end to all of this. So I’m going to give him the Vehement. That’s our deal. He gets our submarine, and we get to disappear.”

“Yes, yes,” Quigley said impatiently, “and now that you’ve seen that he’s alive, can we get to it?”

“Wait,” I said.

“What now?” Quigley snapped.

There were so many questions.

“Why did Prometheus even exist?”

“What do you think the word Strategic in Strategic Nuclear Weapon means? Where do you think the word comes from? If you have a deterrent you have to have a strategy to use it.”

“But everyone had the same plan. Russia, China...”

“Well of course! What’s the point of a deterrent if the other side doesn’t know about it? Carrot and stick, that was our approach. The vaccine and Prometheus. The new way forward for the new millennia.”

“Join us or die?”

“When has it ever been different? For God’s sake man, we were the good guys. We were trying to save the world. You’re stuck in some idealised version of an Orwellian fantasy. If you’re looking for a devil in all of this look to him.” He pointed at Sholto. “The man who rigged elections, the man who blackmailed Senators and planned assassinations. Now, please, can we get on?”