Ward Z Read online

  "Let me talk to him," Lincoln says, coming closer. "He might be able to assist us from in there."

  "Protocol dictates -"

  "Screw protocol," Lincoln replies, stepping past General Kent. "Protocol dictates that we shouldn't have these messes in the first place, but here we are." He pauses. "Dr. Page is one of the most distinguished and learned oncologists in the world," he continues. "Despite certain setbacks in his career, he just so happens to be a huge asset. That's why Dominique Ribery came here in the first place."

  "The man has a reputation for being arrogant," General Kent replies, fixing me with a knowing smile. "Or at least he did, before everything went pear-shaped. We carried out a little background research. One of our researchers spoke to a woman named Catherine Molton up in Edinburgh -"

  "That's enough," I say firmly.

  "Ms. Molton -"

  "I said that's enough!"

  "Stop," Lincoln says, turning to General Kent. "You're going too far."

  General Kent grins, but at least he keeps his mouth shut.

  "What the hell is this thing?" I ask Lincoln, studiously avoiding Kent's wretched face.

  Lincoln turns to me and pauses. "It doesn't have a name yet," he says after a moment. "It was first identified in the Dominican Republic fifteen years ago, but it only affected primates, and it was quickly eradicated. This second outbreak came from Haiti, which is where Dominique Ribery and Henri Le Garde were working on disease-prevention programs. Mixed up in all the other problems that were going on at the time, such as cholera and bubonic plague, this thing wasn't even noticed at first. Eventually, Henri Le Garde contracted the disease, and Dominique Ribery burned his body before abandoning the camp. She thought she'd escaped infection, but she was wrong. She took a risk and she ended up bringing this thing back to Europe."

  "It would have happened eventually," I point out.

  "It's happening now," he replies.

  "And it's spreading."

  "Not necessarily. It's quite difficult for it to pass from human to human. The transmission mechanism is far from perfect. Frankly, that's the one saving grace we've got right now, but there are signs that it's adapting rapidly."

  "Would a bite do the trick?" I ask, thinking back to the wound on Emma's neck.

  "You mean transmission through saliva?" He pauses. "From what I've read, that's not one of the recognized mechanisms this thing uses to spread. It pretty much requires direct contact with dead tissue, perhaps even with the tumor's secretions. However, the victims become much more contagious once they're dead."

  "And then what?" I ask. "Once someone's infected, what happens?"

  "The disease appears to be a type of cancer," he replies. "It manifests initially as a tumor, usually in the lower abdominal area. It presents no symptoms at first, but it grows rapidly until it reaches the size of a fist. While it's doing this, and I realize this might be difficult to believe, but the tumor extends a kind of root cord through the host body, making its way to the heart and then usually bifurcating and sending a second cord to the brain. Meanwhile, it also sends out new blood vessels."

  "Like it's taking over," I say.

  "I've studied these things for a few years," Lincoln replies. "I read a lot of your old work, Dr. Page. That paper you presented, the one that almost got you laughed out of the medical profession... I happen to think that you were mostly right. The tumors are basically establishing themselves in the human body as a second brain. It's my belief that when they're ready and they've completed the root system, they begin to kill the original brain. By the time they're done, the host is dead but the body continues, albeit in a degraded state. This thing is the perfect parasite. This type of cancer isn't just random damage. It's a type of cancer that has evolved and become, for want of a better word, smart."

  "And the cure?" I ask.

  "There's no known cure at this stage."

  "Then..." I pause. "You can't possibly let us out. Not if there's even a chance that we're infected."

  "Dominique Ribery thought she was in the clear," he replies. "It took years for this thing to manifest, almost as if it was waiting. I've got to admit, Dr. Page, this particular cancer is so sneaky, it's tempting to think that it's alive."

  "Let's hold back on the bullshit for now," I point out. "We've got enough to deal with without venturing into the realms of science-fiction." I pause for a moment. "It seems to me that you have two choices. One would be to destroy this hospital and everyone in it, and hope that you can at least delay the inevitable outbreak of this disease on a much bigger scale. The other option would be to study it, here and now while it's breaking out in a contained space, to watch what happens when it gets loose."

  "Would you blame us for either choice?" Lincoln asks. "Whatever this thing is, it's going to appear again. We need more information. That's why I'm arranging to have Dominique Ribery's body -"

  "It's gone," I say, interrupting him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's not in the examination room," I continue. "The chains were broken when I went back, and it was gone."

  "There's no way that could happen," he replies, visibly irritated. "How the hell did you let her get out of there?"

  "I didn't," I say firmly. "You're the one who tied her down. Maybe you should have used stronger handcuffs." I pause, seeing the look of concern in his eyes. "You're the one who left her there and said you'd come back for her later," I add. "I have no idea where she is, but she has to be on the ward somewhere. Frankly, that worries me rather a lot."

  "Find her," he says, in the manner of a headmaster scolding a recalcitrant child.

  "Shouldn't be too much of a problem," I tell him.

  "I can't give you very much help," he replies. "This is the first time we've had the chance to see them in an active setting."

  "Are they intelligent?" I ask. "Cally Briggs seemed almost like an animal. She couldn't talk, she didn't seem to recognize me... Do you know if these things are capable of communicating?"

  "Not as far as we've been able to determine," he replies, "but you have to find Dominique Ribery as quickly as possible."

  "And then what?" I reply. "How do we stop them?"

  "I'm afraid we have no experience in that matter."

  "You could give us a pile of guns," I point out.

  "That's not going to happen," General Kent says firmly. "Can't have you trying to shoot your way out of there, can we?"

  "So we're the guinea pigs," I add. "That's what's happening, isn't it? You're going to watch what happens to us, and then when you're worried that you can't contain the mess any more, you'll destroy the building with all of us inside."

  "You'd do the same thing," Lincoln replies. "If our positions were reversed."

  "Of course I would," I reply.

  "It was never our intention for Dominique Ribery's infection to spread," he continues. "The fact that she was brought to this hospital was a tragic mistake, but now that it's happened -"

  "I'll find a cure," I say, interrupting him.

  "I'm not sure -"

  "I'll find one," I continue. "It's the only way any of us can get out of here, right? So I'll find a way to stop these things."

  "You don't have long enough."

  "I work best under pressure," I tell him.

  "There's another option," he continues. "Remember, the offer still stands. You, and you alone, could come with us. Your movements would be severely limited, but I'd still like to take you away from here and use your expertize back at our base. It's a good offer. You'll be able to continue the work you were doing all those years ago before your fall from grace. It's true, is it not, that you've never really liked people? You'd much rather work with test-tubes and machines instead of patients, so why stay and die in this hellhole?"

  I open my mouth to reply, and for a moment I'm tempted to take his offer. After all, I always wanted to concentrate on research work, and I'd be a fool to stay here and face almost certain death. The old me, the Andrew Page of a few
years ago, would have jumped at the chance, but something has changed.

  "No," I say eventually. "I'm staying here."

  "Even if it means you'll die?"

  "I'll die anyway," I point out. "I'm probably infected. The only question is whether I'll be one of the ones who gets sick quickly, or one of the ones who has no symptoms for a number of years." I pause for a moment. "Or maybe I'll find that cure."

  "Impossible."

  "I can do it," I tell him, feeling my old sense of self-confidence start to return. It's been a long time since I really, truly believed in myself, but right now I'm filled with the certainty that I can do this. "I'll cure it," I continue. "I'll study it, and I'll end it. You won't need to blow this place up."

  "Still want to be a hero, do you?" he asks. "Catherine Molton told us that you had a big ego -"

  "You're right that I don't like working with patients," I tell him, "but I also don't like working in teams. At least here, I'm in the perfect place to study these things and work out how to neutralize them."

  "And you really think you can do it?" he asks.

  "I know I can do it," I tell him. "In fact, I think I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity."

  Emma Briggs

  "Emma?" she calls out. "Emma, where are you?"

  I stay where I am, curled up into the tightest ball I can manage, hiding under the table.

  "Hey," the nurse says, leaning down and smiling at me. "Come out, sweetie. You can't stay under there forever."

  Dr. Andrew Page

  "How's this going to be any different to the last time?" Nurse Jacobs asks as she holds the small metal pan next to the opening in Cally Briggs' abdomen. "That thing -"

  "Dawn Aubry died because I had no way of knowing how the tumor would react to being extracted," I reply, carefully sliding the tip of the scalpel beneath the white cord that runs from the black mass. "This time, I can prepare for it a little better." Slowly, I ease the tumor out of the flesh. "Put the pan under it," I tell her. "Be careful not to scratch the surface, though. We can't let it release any of that toxin yet."

  "You really make it sound like it's alive," she says as she slides the metal pan under the tumor.

  "I'm not saying that it's alive," I reply, grabbing a pair of scissors. "Just that it reacts to attempts to remove it. When I took it out of Dawn Aubry's body, it released a toxin to kill its host. But this time -" I snip the cord, and seconds later the tumor starts to spew out its venomous load, which this time collects harmlessly in the metal pan instead of entering the host body. I cut the blood vessels on the other side of the tumor before taking the pan and lifting the whole thing out of Cally's abdomen.

  "What about the rest of the cord?" Nurse Jacobs asks.

  "I have to leave it in for now," I reply as I carry the pan over to the nearby workbench and set it down. Black liquid is still leaking out of the tumor's side as it tries in vain to poison its host, but this time I was able to anticipate its trick. "I need to cut this thing open," I continue. "I need to know everything about it."

  "We need to stop this bleeding first."

  Turning, I see that blood is pouring from Cally's side. Hurrying back over to the table, I start to deal with the damage. I didn't have time to be delicate when I started cutting her open, especially since I have no idea whether this latest shot of morphine will keep her completely unconscious. Frankly, there's less than a fifty-fifty chance that she'll survive, but I have to at least try. I've never given up on a patient yet, and I'm not about to start.

  "There," I say, after a few moments, once the bleeding has begun to slow. "She'll need to be sewn up. Can you manage that?"

  "With what?" she replies.

  "A needle and thread if necessary," I tell her. "Hell, there's a button repair kit in my jacket. Use that. Sterilize the thread first. I just..." Pausing for a moment, I look down at Cally's face. "She's dying anyway," I continue. "I just need to know whether removing the tumor might bring her back in some way. If it does, there's a chance for us to start fighting this thing." Looking over at the tumor in the metal pan, I see that it has stopped releasing the toxin. "It's fascinating, isn't it?" I continue. "A whole new type of cancer that seems to have evolved the ability to take control of a human body."

  "Now you sound like you respect it," Nurse Jacobs replies as she sterilizes the wound on Cally Briggs' abdomen.

  "It's life," I reply. "It's ugly, it's dangerous, but it's life, and it's finding a way to go on. I can't help but feel impressed by its sheer inventiveness. That's what evolution is... It's life finding a way, constantly twisting and turning and looking for new paths of survival, new ways to evolve." Pausing for a moment, I finally head over to the nearby cabinet and take out a pre-sealed shot of adrenalin.

  "What's that for?" Nurse Jacobs asks.

  "I don't have time to wait," I reply, removing the syringe from the packet. "I need to bring the patient round and see if she -"

  "You'll kill her!"

  "She's dying anyway!"

  "That doesn't give you the right to speed things up!"

  "Doesn't it?" I ask, too focused on the task at hand to bother worrying about ethical considerations. "She's as good as dead. If I can potentially save millions of people, just by having Cally Briggs die a few minutes or days earlier, why the hell shouldn't I do that?"

  "You're not God," she replies.

  "Hell, no," I say with a faint smile. "God couldn't do what I'm doing."

  "First you gave her enough morphine to drop an elephant, and now you're going to fill her with adrenalin?" she asks. "You're pulling her body in two different directions. You'll end up tearing her apart down the middle."

  "There's no other way," I reply. "I have to wake her up. I need to see if her original mind is intact."

  She stares at me. "I'm not going to be a party to this."

  "Then leave the room," I tell her. "If you can't get past your emotions and see that we need to understand this thing, then I'd rather you went and checked on some of the other patients. Wipe their asses and clean the dribble from their chins, and I'll do the important work in here." I take a deep breath as I realize that my old arrogance is coming back. For years, I thought my work was idiotic and foolish, but now I see that I was right all along.

  Nurse Jacobs pauses for a moment. "I've cleaned the wound," she says eventually, with an air of resignation in her voice. "All that's left is for it to be sewn up."

  "I'll do it," I reply. "Go on. Get out of here."

  "What you're doing is wrong," she replies. "It's murder!"

  "It's science," I point out. "If we can understand what's happened to Cally Briggs, we'll understand what's happening to everyone else. The loss of her life might just mean that many more are saved. If you're not okay with that balance, I understand, but I am okay with it." Stepping over to Cally Briggs, I prepare to slide the needle into a vein on her wrist. "If you're going to leave, Nurse Jacobs, I suggest -"

  Before I can finish, I hear the door swing shut.

  I guess I've always found it easy to make difficult moral decisions. If killing one life would mean that two other lives were saved, I'd do it, and performing this operation on Cally Briggs might have saved considerably more than just two people. At some point, someone has to take a stand, make the difficult decisions, and do whatever's necessary to find some answers. If I have to let Cally Briggs die along the way, I'm willing to take that hit to my conscience. All that matters is the science.

  I slip the tip of the needle into her skin and find a vein, before sliding the plunger down and then stepping back.

  "Come on," I whisper, watching her sallow, still face. It'll be a minor miracle if this works, but I need to see if the removal of the tumor means that Cally might get her mind back, even if it's only for a few minutes. The white cord is still in her body, and the cancer has undoubtedly spread further than before, but the tumor itself seems to act as a kind of control center or even a second brain, and it seemed as if somehow it was able to s
uppress Cally's mind and take control of her body, turning her into some kind of marauding, zombie-like creature. I need to know if the process can be reversed.

  "Cally?" I say, stepping toward the table and leaning closer. "Cally, can you hear me?" I gently slap the side of the face, hoping for some kind of response. Finally, however, it becomes clear that she's not going to wake up. All I needed was a hint that recovery was possible, but the combination of morphine and adrenalin seems to have been too much for her. I reach down and check her pulse, and although she's still alive, she seems increasingly weak. I guess she only has a few minutes left.

  "I'm sorry," I tell her, before heading over to the counter and picking up the metal pan. The tumor looks to have lost some of its mass, suggesting that the black toxin made up a considerable part of its internal structure. Determined to get on with the job of dissecting this thing and finding out if there's any way to fight back, I grab a scalpel and prepare to make the first incision. Finally, I'm going to see what's inside one of these things. Carefully, I place the tip of the blade against the tumor's surface and begin to press down.

  Suddenly I hear a scream in one of the nearby corridors, followed by the sound of someone running. Setting the scalpel down, I rush out of the room.

  Emma Briggs

  I can hear them now, running and panicking. Some of them are shouting and screaming, begging to be let out of this place.

  Putting my hands over my ears, I try to block out the noise.

  Dr. Andrew Page

  "What's happening?" I shout as I reach a group of people who have gathered by the main door. It's as if, following the relative restraint of the past twenty-four hours, bedlam has broken out on the ward.

  "Let us out of here!" one of the patients shouts, banging on the door while the others try to pull it open.

  "This is Britain!" calls out another. "Not Nazi Germany! For God's sake, you can't keep us penned in here like animals! We have rights!"

  "I'm going to sue when I get out of here!" says a woman standing nearby. "My brother-in-law's a lawyer and he knows just how to get every last penny out of you jackbooted thugs!"