Ward Z: Revelation (22 page)
Edging away from him, Lizzie looked around for something she could use if she was attacked. By the time she reached the mud and began to make her way back toward the trees, she'd realized that her only hope was to run, but Lincoln was stepping closer all the time, as if he was determined not to let her get too far away.
“Lizzie,” he said finally. “Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking.”
“I'm thinking...” She paused. “I'm thinking I have to help the others.”
Turning, she began to run through the forest, but she only managed a few paces before Lincoln caught her and pushed her against a tree. Slamming hard into the wood, she stumbled across the forest floor but kept running, only for him to swipe her legs from under her, sending her crashing down into the mud with a gasp of pain.
“Lizzie,” he said, stepping over her. “I thought you were smarter than this.”
Scrambling to her feet, she felt something hard under her right hand. Looking down, she saw a small rock.
“You're disappointing me,” Lincoln continued. “Use your brain, Lizzie. Think about this logically, I'm offering you something wonderful.”
“I'm offering you something wonderful too,” she replied.
“And what -”
Before he could finish, Lizzie turned and swung the rock at his head, catching him on the side of the forehead and sending him crumpling to the ground. Without even stopping to see whether she'd caused any serious damage, she dropped the rock and began to run again, racing between the trees in a desperate bid to get back to the campsite. She kept expecting him to catch up to her again, to be dragged down, but after a couple of minutes she reached a small clearing and dropped to her knees, desperately short of breath. Looking back over her shoulder, she realized there was no sign of Lincoln following her. She waited, convinced that there was no way a simple blow to the head could have stopped him, but finally she began to consider the possibility that she'd managed to give him the slip.
Getting back up, she began to hurry up the slope.
***
Letting out a cry of pain, Kirsty dropped down to her knees and held her breath. She'd only made it a few steps from the cabin, having taken forever to get moving, but now her damaged foot was starting to really hurt. Looking down, she saw that the exposed meat was a much brighter shade of pink, and there was plenty of dirt in the wound. She tried to brush her foot clean, but any pressure at all was enough to send a jolt of agony through her body and she finally gave up, figuring that she should just wait for professional help.
“Oh God,” she whispered, “please don't let me die here.”
Looking around, she waited for some sign of the soldiers, but the campsite seemed strangely empty. She'd expected swarms of troops, maybe even a helicopter or two overhead, but now she was starting to think that Freeman might have been right: the so-called military response team seemed like little more than a few badly-trained soldiers and a couple of doctors. She turned and looked toward the trees past the ruined main building, and finally she realized that her best option was simply to find some way to keep going, to ignore the pain in her foot.
She limped forward.
“Quiet!” a voice hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth from behind. “Don't make a noise!”
Pulling away, she turned and saw that Freeman was right behind her, with mud smeared all over his face and two rifles slung over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Camouflage,” he replied, reaching down and scooping up some more mud before smearing it on her forehead. “You need to do the same.”
“Will it actually help?” she asked, wiping mud over her cheeks.
“That blonde hair of yours is a giveaway,” he continued. “You're wearing a lot of pink, too.” He glanced down at her foot, before opening his pocket and taking out a handful of small weeds. “That's not looking good,” he added, before putting the weeds into his mouth and starting to chew.
“It didn't hurt before,” she replied. “Now it's starting to throb again.”
He said something, but with his mouth full of weeds, none of the words made sense. Finally he took the weeds out and rolled them in the palm of his hands, creating a kind of saliva-filled paste.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kirsty asked.
“Trying to save your foot,” he replied, kneeling in front of her.
“Hey -” Before she could finish, she gasped as he wiped the paste on her exposed meat. After a moment, however, she realized the pain was already starting to go down. “That's gross,” she told him. “What is it?”
“A little trick I learned from an old buddy,” he explained. “Anti-microbial properties, plus a soothing mechanism that should hold the pain at bay, at least for a few hours.” He finished wiping the paste all over her foot, before getting up again. “It was either that or put a stick in your mouth and saw the damn thing off.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “I think...”
“You seen the others?”
“Crystal left me,” she told him.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I told her that I'd just slow her down,” she continued, “and that she should leave me behind, and she did! She just took off into the distance.”
“That bitch only ever looks out for herself,” he explained, peering around the side of the cabin. “I doubt she got very far, though. They're expecting us to run, so they're ready to pick us off one by one. Have you seen any more of those wannabe soldiers?”
She shook her head.
“I've taken care of four,” he continued, “including two who turned out to be doctors. There can't be too many more. I figure at least one, and maybe as many as four. Either way, we have a chance here. Four of those untrained bastards can't match one of me. They're not even that coordinated, have you noticed? It's like they're still not quite on top of how to use their new human bodies.”
“We have to run,” she told him. “If we can just get away -”
“I'm not running,” he said firmly. “Running means turning our backs on them, and that's far too dangerous. The best form of defense is attack. We have resources and we have guns, and we have my mind, which is like a weapon in itself. Trust me, I've forgotten more about guerrilla warfare than these turkeys could ever learn. We'll take 'em by surprise and then we can get down off this goddamn mountain.”
“But if -”
“They killed my sister.”
“I'm sorry about that, but -”
“They opened her up,” he continued, with anger in his eyes, “and they started poking about in her guts. They treated her like she was some kind of lab animal to be dissected and studied.”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but she paused as she realized that there was no point.
“So I'm not leaving,” he continued, “not until every last one of those things is dead, and I'd strongly advise you to stick close to me. If we run, they'll just come after us. At least if we stand and fight, we can make plans, we can set traps. These creatures aren't so smart, and it's not like they've got any particular powers. They're just little squid things hitching a ride in human bodies. They're got weaknesses, too. They seem to burn easily, and they're not particularly agile when they try to control their human hosts. Once the element of surprise is gone, they don't have too many tricks up their sleeves except...”
He paused for a moment, eying her with suspicion.
“What?” she asked.
“How do I know you're not one of them?” he replied, looking her up and down.
“Excuse me?”
“I
don't
know,” he continued, “and
you
don't know that
I'm
not one either. We need to come up with a quick test.”
“I do
not
have a monster squid in my body!” she replied, clearly offended by the idea. Pulling her t-shirt up to expose her bare belly, she turned to one side. “See? Flat as a pancake!” She looked down at his belly. “You're the one with the gut. You could fit three of those things in there.”
“I'm a fighting machine,” he told her.
She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“I'm a member of the Flying Hawk Brigade,” he added proudly.
“What the hell's that?”
“The internet's finest training group.”
“Oh great,” she replied sarcastically. “You're an online warrior. What could be more useful in a real-life situation?”
“Don't trust me,” he replied. “That's good, that's smart.
I
know I'm not infected, but you don't, so don't turn your back on me and I won't turn my back on you. Deal?” He held out a hand, which she shook reluctantly. “Justifiable skepticism,” he continued, “that's all I'm saying. It might just save our lives. Don't trust anyone or anything until we get back to civilization.”
“And the others?” she asked.
“What others? Your friend Lizzie is clearly dead by now, same with Crystal. If either of them shows up again, we have to assume they've been compromised.”
“You don't mean -”
“We need to restrain them,” he continued, “but if they fight back, we have to be ready to use lethal force. No offense to anyone else here, but I don't see how they could have survived, not without proper training. If they show up again, it can only be because they've had their bodies taken over.”
“I'm not killing anyone!”
“It's kill or be killed,” he said firmly. “It's them or us, it's life or death. We can't afford to wait until the tendrils are poking out their sides before we take action. These creatures are smart, remember? Smart enough to cause us some serious trouble if they get a chance.”
“I hear someone,” she replied, looking over her shoulder.
“Get back!” he hissed, pushing her against the side of the cabin and taking a rifle from over his shoulder. “Don't say a word,” he whispered. “Let me handle this.”
They waited as the footsteps came closer, trampling through the mud and wet grass, until finally they spotted a shadow.
“It's one of them,” Freeman whispered.
“How can you be sure?”
“Military training.”
“You were in the military?”
“There are other places to get military training,” he whispered. “I've watched over three thousand hours of combat and survival videos. Besides, you and I, we're the only two left up here who have a hope in hell of not being infected yet.” He paused for a moment, before starting to silently mouth a countdown. “Three. Two...”
The shadow suddenly turned, as if it had heard something.
“One!” Freeman shouted, stepping out and firing once.
Kirsty put her hands over her ears for a moment and watched in horror as a figure slumped to the ground. A second later, her eyes widened as she saw the face of the person on the grass.
“Lizzie!” she shouted. “You shot Lizzie!”
“You shot me?” Lizzie asked a few minutes later, sitting up and immediately wincing as the pain hit her. “You shot me!”
“It's a flesh wound,” Freeman replied, clearly irritated as he used a piece of cotton wool to dab at her shoulder. “I barely grazed you.”
“Thank God you have such bad aim,” Kirsty muttered.
“I do not have bad aim,” he replied, turning to her. “I deliberately fired a warning shot to make her stop!”
“In other words,” Kirsty continued, “you missed.”
“Take that back!” he said firmly.
“Make me.”
“It's okay,” Lizzie replied, turning to look between the trees, searching for some sign of Lincoln. So far, however, he remained suspiciously absent. She wanted to believe that she'd knocked him out cold, but at the same time she also knew that getting rid of him couldn't possibly be so easy. “How did we end up here?” she asked.
“After this idiot shot you,” Kirsty replied, “we dragged you away from the cabin and into the forest. We figured the gunshot would've attracted attention.”
“We have to run,” Lizzie said. “They're all infected. Doctor Lincoln, everyone...”
“Running's no good,” Freeman replied. “Running is what they expect. There can't be more than a few of them left, so we fight.”
“That's his plan,” Kirsty continued, turning to Lizzie. “There's just the three of us left, and he thinks we should stand up to them.”
“Maybe he's right,” Lizzie replied. “I mean, at least until we've immobilized them in some way. If we can stop them and then get away, we can warn the police.”
“I like you,” Freeman told her. “You think like a soldier.”
“I do not think like a soldier,” Lizzie said with a frown.
“Yes you do,” he continued. “You're logical, you're precise, you look at the situation and decide what needs to be done, instead of running around panicking like -” He stopped, before glancing briefly at Kirsty and then back at Lizzie. “Well, like some people.”
“Hands up who accidentally shot someone on their side today,” Kirsty said. “Anyone?”
“I could have stopped this,” Freeman muttered. “I should have done something sooner.”
“It's not your fault,” Lizzie told him. “Crystal Wallace is the one who let that medical waste get dumped here.”
“I should've been onto her sooner,” he continued. “A little while ago there was a girl who went missing from the camp, she was part of the last group that came here. Ally Chambers was her name. A few days after she vanished, I was out late at night and I swear I saw her, but she ran away from me. I chased her all the way to the cabins, but then she just disappeared again.” He paused for a moment. “I'm starting to think she was mixed up in all of this, maybe she was an early victim. I should've asked more questions, but Crystal said it was all sorted. Damn it, why didn't I listen to my instincts?”
“I only got scraped, really,” Lizzie muttered, looking at the blood on her shoulder. “So what's the plan?” she asked, turning to Freeman.
“We go and get 'em,” he replied. “That Lincoln guy, plus the couple of so-called soldiers he's got left, plus the handful of infected campers. We strike fast and we strike hard. In, out, boom!”
Kirsty rolled her eyes.
“But not Beth,” Lizzie pointed out.
“What do you mean?” Freeman asked.
“We don't...” She paused. “I mean, we can't shoot Beth. We need to capture her, tie her up, and then hope that when help arrives they can somehow cure her.”
“Impossible,” he said, shaking his head.
“No, there has to be a way!”
“I've seen how these things work,” he replied. “When you try to take 'em out of a body, they release this venom that kills the host. It's like they're determined not to let anyone get away. I'm sorry, but your friend isn't coming back. The most humane thing to do is to put a bullet right between her eyes and then kill the creature inside.”
“I'm not shooting Beth,” Lizzie said firmly.
“No-one's asking you to,” he told her. “I'm the one with the guns.”
“But still -”
“If you don't like it,” he continued, “you're free to turn and run. I promise you one thing, though. Your friend won't suffer a moment longer than necessary. It'll be quick, far quicker than the agony she's going through at the moment with that thing inside her. From what my sister said, it sounds like the original mind is still in there somewhere, trapped and conscious the whole time but not able to do anything to get free again. If you ask me, that's a pretty close definition of torture.”
“And then we get out of here?” Kirsty asked.
He nodded. “That's right. When the job's done, but not before.”
“No offense,” Lizzie said, turning to Kirsty, “but you're in no fit state to come with us. With that foot, you're way too slow. It might be better if you stay put and let us go and sort things out.”
“No way,” Kirsty replied. “I want to help.”
“Lizzie's right,” Freeman muttered. “Again. We need to move fast, and it'll slow us down if we have to keep stopping to check on you. If the creatures see that you're injured, they'll try to separate you from us and use you as a distraction.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Kirsty asked. “Just sit here and wait?”
“Take this,” he continued, slipping a hunting knife from his belt and handing it to her. “You should be okay here for a while, but if you need to defend yourself, aim for the gut.”
“I can't stab someone,” she stammered. “I... I mean, I can't...”
“Yeah,” he replied, getting to his feet, “you can. Not now, not when you're thinking straight, but if things get bad, I promise you... You'll be just fine.” He turned to Lizzie. “You too. Remember, this is self-preservation. We're fighting back. You also need to remember that none of us can totally trust each other, so we all need to watch our backs.”
“Sure,” Lizzie said, standing up and taking the rifle that he passed to her. “I mean, I guess...”
“Come back soon, guys,” Kirsty said, her voice trembling with fear. “How long should I wait before I start to worry?”
“Shouldn't take too long,” Freeman replied, turning and starting to make his way back toward the campsite. “An hour at most.”
“Are you sure about this?” Kirsty asked, looking up at Lizzie. “Maybe we should just try to run...”
“They'd chase us,” Lizzie replied, trying not to show any fear. “You know they would. They'd catch us, too, and then we'd have no chance. At least this way...” She paused. “Freeman's right. We have to take the fight to them.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. We need it.”
Turning, Lizzie hurried after Freeman, while fiddling with the rifle.
“Where's the safety on this thing?” she asked.
“There isn't one.” He glanced at her. “You never fired a gun before?”
“No. Do I -”
“It's real easy,” he continued. “Just aim at the thing you want to kill, and pull the trigger. If your aim was right, the thing will then be dead.”
“But how do I reload?” she asked. “When I've fired, I mean?”
“You don't need to worry about that. There are two cartridges in your gun and two in mine, and we don't have any spares left. So make 'em count.”
***
“Who the hell is he talking to?” Freeman whispered a few minutes later, as he and Lizzie lay in the tall grass and watched Lincoln speaking on a phone. He was over by the cabins, about fifty meters away, with two soldiers loitering nearby.
“He told me there are more of them,” Lizzie whispered. “He said they're all over the world, waiting to rise up.”
“Probably infiltrating positions of power,” he replied. “That's what they'd do if they're smart, anyway. Try to get themselves into the bodies of people who can cause serious trouble.” He paused for a moment. “So there are three left. That's more than I expected, but we can still take them down. The two guys in military dress need to be our first targets, 'cause they're the ones with guns.”
“Wait,” Lizzie hissed, watching as another figure emerged from one of the cabins. A shiver of white-hot anger ran through her chest as she saw Beth making her way over to join Lincoln, and she had to force herself not to aim and fire. Not yet.
“That's your pal, huh?” Freeman asked.
“She was the first one who got infected,” Lizzie replied. “I think so, anyway. She got lost in the forest during the first night, and when she came back... She wasn't the same.” She paused. “She also claimed to have completely wiped Beth's original mind.”
“There's another over there,” Freeman pointed out, as one more former camper made his way unsteadily out of the cabin. “Let's hope that's the lot.”
“There were twenty-four originally,” she replied. “Kirsty and I are still alive, we know Laura's gone, Beth and that other guy are there, plus I saw at least three people die during the night, which leaves...” She paused again, running the math in her head. “Sixteen unaccounted for. I figure Laura managed to take at least one with her, so that brings it down to fifteen.” She turned to him. “Do you think they could have taken over fifteen other bodies?”
“Wouldn't put it past them,” he said, closing one eye as he began to aim his rifle. “Never underestimate your enemy, Lizzie. It's one of the most common mistakes a person can make. Now start aiming for the soldier on the left, but don't fire until I tell you it's time. Understood?”
Raising the rifle, Lizzie peered through the sights, attempting to line up a clear shot. Her hands were trembling, however, and no matter how much she tried to hold the rifle steady, she couldn't stem the rising tide of panic in her chest.
“Just remember,” Freeman said calmly, “these aren't people you're aiming at. They're monsters.”
“I know,” she replied, “it's just...” She stared at the soldier's blank face for a moment, and slowly she managed to get her hands to stay calm. “I don't know if I can do this,” she whispered.
“Do it for your friend Laura,” he whispered. “Do it for every other poor sod who died up here, and for all the people who'd die if these creatures managed to get away.” He paused for a moment. “Fire on a count of three, okay? One... Two...”
He paused for a moment.
“Three.”
They fired simultaneously, and the two soldiers immediately fell as they took direct hits to the chest.
“I hit him!” Lizzie exclaimed, shocked that she hadn't missed. “I actually hit him!”
“Motherfuckers!” Freeman shouted, getting to his feet and firing again, this time knocking Beth down before she'd even had a chance to react.
As Lincoln and the other camper ran for cover, Lizzie scrambled up and followed Freeman across the grass, making for the cabins.
“Those others weren't armed,” he called back to her. “Get the guns from the ones on the ground.”
When he reached the first soldier, Freeman pulled his gun away and then took a knife from his belt, quickly sinking it into the belly of the gasping man, who cried out in pain as Freeman twisted the blade.
Horrified, Lizzie took the other soldier's gun and stood back, as Freeman finished the first man and then moved onto the second.
“Lizzie,” a voice whispered from nearby. “Please...”
Turning, she saw Beth on the ground, clutching a bloodied wound in her chest.
“Lizzie, please,” she continued, clearly struggling to speak, “it doesn't have to be like this. Think about the possibilities...”
She shook her head.
“It doesn't have to be war,” she gasped. “The transition can be orderly. We can let some humans live. We're not the aggressors here, you're the ones who came charging at us with guns, and before that you tried to kill us when we grew in your bodies. You used radiation and drugs, often killing yourselves in the process, or other times you tried to cut us out of your flesh. We're finally getting strong enough to resist your barbarity.”
“And what about Laura?” Lizzie asked, aiming her rifle at Beth's face. “What about all the other people you killed?”
“We didn't kill most of them,” she replied. “We took control of their bodies. We improved them, we became one with them. It could be a glorious thing, if you just think about it a different way.” She began to cough, bringing up a little blood. “The rest we needed for food, but that was just for the young ones. Please, Lizzie, there are other solutions. We've already infiltrated human governments. Right now, one of us is just a hair's breadth from the U.S. president. We can take him out at any moment.”
“Don't listen to her,” Freeman said as he made his way over and looked down at her. “She's a lying sack of shit.”
“We're going to take your bodies anyway,” Beth continued. “Why don't you accept the situation and recognize that it'll be an improvement? Together, we can be so much stronger than we'd be if we were apart.”
“Bull,” Freeman replied, aiming his rifle at Beth's face. “The human race is gonna wipe every last one of you bastards from existence.”
“We'll keep coming,” Beth told him. “We've been growing inside you for thousands of years, slowly evolving, waiting until we were able to take control. That moment has arrived and there's nothing your pitiful species can do except let nature take its course. The Great Memnon has seen into the future, and he knows everything that's going to happen. He sees a brief, pathetic struggle that ends with humanity being overwhelmed. He sees a new era of life on this planet. He sees humanity becoming nothing more than a footnote in the history of a new, dominant species.”