Ward Z Page 24

  Setting the scalpel down, I grab a pair of scissors with my trembling hands. Reaching my fingers through the hole in my belly, I pull the skin apart, keen to ensure that I don't accidentally hit the tumor and cause it to release the toxin. At first, I can't see anything other than blood and meat, but finally I spot the first hint of something small and shiny and black. Sure enough, it's one of the tumors, nestled deep in my body. It's smaller than the ones I've encountered so far, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's less dangerous, so I figure that I need to tread carefully.

  I hold the incision open while slowly sliding a small metal bowl through the hole until it's positioned beneath the tumor. This is hardly ideal, but right now, with no-one to help me, I have no other choice. I just about manage to keep the incision open, ignoring the pain as I slip the scissors inside and gently root around for the white cord. Just as I'm about to give up, I manage to find the damn thing, and I place the scissor blades on either side, ready to cut.

  "Come on, you little bastard," I whisper, staring at the tumor. "Let's see what you've got."

  With that, I cut the cord. Dropping the scissors, I quickly start pulling the tumor loose. It begins to release the toxin, but the pan catches most of it and seconds later I've got the damn thing out of my body. I place it on the nearby counter before finally letting out a gasp of pain. Blood is pouring from the wound, but I have neither the means nor the time to stitch myself up properly; instead, I grab a set of butterfly stitches and begin to apply them quickly to the incision. They're woefully inadequate for the task, of course, but they're the only option that's available to me right now. Once they're in place, I get to my feet, and I have no option but to ignore the steady stream of blood leaking from the wound as I grab the metal pan and carry it over to a nearby counter.

  After taking a moment to steady myself, I grab another scalpel and pause to look down at the tumor. My first instinct is to make sure it's dead by cutting it in half, although I'm not convinced that I'd learn much. Checking my watch, I see that we've got less than forty minutes until the missile strike is due. How the hell am I supposed to get anything useful done in such a short space of time?

  "Dr. Page?" a voice calls out in the distance. "Where are you?"

  Pausing, I suddenly realize that there's still an option. Shuffling over to the door, I lean out and find that Anthony has come to find me.

  I need every sample I can get.

  "We've got a problem," he says, his face white with fear.

  "No kidding, Einstein," I reply. "Get in here!"

  "What happened to you?" he asks as he joins me in the examination room. As soon as he spots the small tumor in the metal pan, he walks over to take a look before finally turning to face me. "Where did this come from?" he asks, staring down at the wound in my abdomen. "Don't tell me you -"

  "Why not?" I reply, grimacing with pain. "There was a fine tradition of physicians operating on themselves in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries."

  "Can I get you something for the pain?" he asks.

  "No!" I say firmly. "I need a clear head. I need..." I pause, staring at him for a moment as I try to work out whether I can really do this. After all, he might have told me earlier that he wants to die quickly and painlessly, but that still doesn't give me the right to take his life. "Can you look for something in that cupboard for me?" I ask, pointing over to the corner. "The one on the right. There should be a small bottle with green liquid in it."

  As he goes to take a look, I reach into a different cupboard and pull out a bottle of chloroform, which I quickly pour onto a thick section of bandage.

  "I don't see anything," he says, still looking through the other cupboard. "Dr. Page, shouldn't we -"

  "Keep looking," I reply, making my way slowly and painfully over to him. "It's in there somewhere. It might just save our lives."

  "Maybe someone else took it," he replies.

  "Maybe," I say, before reaching around and pressing the chloroform bandage against his face. He struggles for a moment, but despite the pain in my abdomen I'm able to keep him in place until his body falls limp. I wait a moment longer, just to be certain, and then finally I ease him down to the ground. "I'm sorry," I mutter, grabbing a scalpel before kneeling next to him. "There's only forty minutes left anyway," I continue, looking down at his unconscious face. "This isn't murder. It's a last-ditch attempt to make things right. You're dying anyway, and I'm not doing anything to you that I'm not already doing to myself. I hope you'll understand."

  I take a deep breath, telling myself over and over again that I can do this.

  "This had better be worth it," I mutter, pulling his shirt up to expose his belly. If the results of the swab test are correct, he should have a small tumor in his right side, so I quickly make an incision and start to cut. This time, I don't care too much whether or not the damn thing releases its toxin. It takes me a couple of minutes to find the tumor, but eventually I locate it and I quickly cut the white cord and start to lift the mass out of his body. Black venom begins to leak from the damn thing, burning my hands as it drips down into the hole in Anthony's belly, but I don't have time to worry about such petty things. Placing the tumor in the metal pan next to the tumor that I took from my own body, I quickly turn and start washing the venom from my hands.

  Glancing down at Anthony, I feel a pang of guilt before realizing that, technically, it was the tumor that killed him, not me. And even if I hadn't done anything, the rockets will be here in half an hour.

  "I'm sorry," I mutter. "If you -"

  Hearing a noise over on the counter, I look at the metal pan and see to my astonishment that the two tumors seem to be moving. Walking over, I realize that they're reacting to one another, and they've begun to twitch furiously. The tips of the severed white cords, meanwhile, seem to be being used as weapons, and each tumor is attempting to push its cord into the other. Maybe it's partly because I'm feeling light-headed from all the blood-loss, but this is honestly the most shocking and surprising thing I've ever seen in my life. Before I can really react to what's happening, however, both tumors release an extra burst of the black toxin, and finally they fall still.

  I stand in stunned silence, my mind racing as I try to work out what I just witnessed. My plan was to dissect the tumors, and I only placed them next to each other for convenience. Now, though, it's as if they've neutralized one another. I'd seen them release their toxin to kill their host body before, but it had never occurred to me that they might have an equally violent reaction when placed in close proximity to one another.

  "That's it," I whisper, as a flood of ideas rush into my mind. "They hate each other, they..."

  I take a deep breath as I try to come to terms with the fact that the solution seems to be so shockingly, stunningly simple.

  "Fuck," I mutter, checking my watch and seeing that there are only twenty-seven minutes left until the missile strike. Grabbing the metal pan containing the two tumors, I step over Anthony's corpse and rush out of the room. I have to get to my office and call Lincoln, and let him know that I think I've found a cure for this thing. If I'm right, I haven't only saved my own life; I've saved the lives of everyone on the planet who might be infected by this goddamn disease.

  I knew I could do it.

  Cally Briggs

  "Come on!" I say, pulling her by the arm as we make our way along the corridor. "I don't know how long we've got, but I need to get you out of here!"

  "You're hurting me!" Emma whimpers, trying to get free from my grasp. "Stop it!"

  "I'm sorry," I mutter, pushing the double doors open as we reach the next corridor. "We need to -"

  "Leave me alone!" Emma screams, biting down hard on my hand and forcing me to let go of her. She turns to run, but I manage to grab her other arm and pull her toward me. "Help!" she screams. "Help me!"

  "It's okay," I say firmly. "Sweetheart, why are you so scared of me?"

  "You bit me!" she shouts.

  "No," I reply, "I -" Suddenly, h
owever, I realize that she might be right. I have this vague, cloudy memory of attacking Emma. Staring down at her, it's almost as if I can taste her blood, and that large bandage on her neck is starting to make sense. Right now, I can feel something reaching up inside my body, like a hand pushing its way from my gut to my chest, preparing to wrap its fingers around my heart and take complete control. "Emma..." I say, trying to think of some way in which it might not be true, "I'd never hurt you..."

  "You tried to kill me," she says darkly, still trying to twist out of my grasp. "You hurt my neck!"

  "No," I say, even though I feel as if it's true, "I..." Kneeling next to her, I can't help but notice the absolute fear in her eyes. I've seen so many expressions on her face over the past nine years, but never this kind of terror, and it breaks my heart. "That wasn't me," I tell her, even though I'm still not quite sure what exactly happened. "Sweetheart, you have to know that Mummy would never hurt you. Not in a million years. There was something in Mummy, though, that made her act like that, but it's gone now." I feel a jolt of pain, as if the tumor wants to remind me that time is running out.

  Emma stares at me, trembling with fear.

  "I love you," I continue. "You're the most important person in the world to me, and I swear to God, I'm going to get you out of this mess. Do you understand?" If it's the last thing I ever do, and it probably will be the last thing I ever do, I'm going to get you out of this ward and out of this hospital. Somehow. You have to trust me."

  "Please don't hurt me," she whimpers. "Please..."

  "That really wasn't me," I reply, trying desperately to hold back the tears. "Sweetheart, we don't have long, but you have to come with me. Look into my eyes and you'll see that, whatever that thing was, it was something that had got inside me, but it's out, I don't know how, and I can still feel it sometimes, but right now I just want to get you out of this place before it's too late." I wait for her to reply. "Please, Emma," I continue. "Just trust me one more time and I swear to God, I'll make sure that you're okay."

  She stares at me, and for a moment it seems as if she might genuinely start to understand. Seconds later, however, her face starts to fill with fear, and I suddenly realize that she's not looking at me, but past me.

  "Sweetheart?" I say, before turning and seeing to my horror that June Carey is making her way toward us. Except, it's clear that this isn't the same June Carey that I've befriended during my time on the ward. Staggering forward on uncertain legs, occasionally bumping into the wall, she seems to be completely devoid of color, and there's a faint rasping, hissing sound coming from her mouth.

  "Mummy," Emma says, frantically trying to pull away from me. "Please, Mummy..."

  "It's okay," I say, getting to my feet and double-checking my grip on the metal pipe. "Just stay behind me."

  "Mummy," Emma shouts, "stop her!"

  "Stay back!" I shout, even though I'm certain that June won't be able to understand me. It's hard to believe that this is how I must have looked a while ago, before the tumor was removed from my belly. The first tumor, anyway.

  "That's what you were like," Emma says, clinging to my waist.

  "No kidding," I mutter.

  "Mummy, stop her!"

  As June gets closer, I raise the metal pipe, ready to strike. I've never been a violent person, but I swear to God, if Emma's in danger, I'll willingly bash in the head of every damn zombie in this hospital.

  "Emma," I say firmly, "close your eyes and turn away."

  "I'm scared," she whimpers.

  "Close your eyes and turn away!" I shout.

  As soon as I feel Emma turning her back on me, I slip out of her grip, take a step forward and prepare to strike.

  "June," I say firmly, "if there's any part of you left in there, you need to stop right now!"

  She keeps coming, gasping as she gets to within a couple of meters.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you!" I shout, before swinging the metal pipe straight at her head. Scoring a direct hit, I send her slamming into the wall with a heavy crunch, and although I pull the pipe away and strike her again, it's clear that I've already done enough damage. With blood and cranial fluid seeping from her shattered skull, she starts sliding down to the floor, rasping and vomiting blood until finally she tries to reach out toward me.

  "Mummy," Emma says from behind me, "what happened to her?"

  "Turn away," I say firmly, staring at June as she tries to get back up onto her feet.

  "But Mummy -"

  "Turn away!" I shout. Looking down at June's juddering, floundering body, I take a deep breath. "If any part of you can hear me," I say, staring at her yellow eyes, "I just want you to know that I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I had to do this, but I haven't got a choice." With that, I slam the metal pipe down against her head, smashing her skull like a watermelon and sending pieces of brain matter across the wall. For a moment, I stare helplessly at the pieces of broken bone spilling out into a pool of blood. I knew June pretty well, and now she's gone.

  I killed her.

  "Can I look now?" Emma asks.

  "There's -" I start to say, before realizing that there's some kind of thick white cord flexing in the bloody stump of her neck, as if it's reaching up from deeper in her body. Snapping first one way and then another, the cord seems to be furiously trying to strike out.

  "Mummy -" Emma starts to say.

  "Come on!" I reply, grabbing her hand and carefully leading her around the bloody mess of June's body. "We have to get to the main door," I continue as we hurry along the corridor. "Whatever you do, don't look back! I mean it, sweetheart. Just keep looking forward!"

  "What was that thing in her neck?" she asks. "Was it a worm?"

  "I don't think so," I reply. "Whatever it was, we need to keep moving."

  "Is she dead?" Emma asks.

  "She was dead before I hit her," I reply, pushing the next door open and dragging Emma into another corridor. "I'm sorry you had to see that, sweetheart, but there was nothing I could do. She was going to hurt us. Do you understand? I had to kill her, or she would have killed us! I didn't want to do it, but when it's a matter of survival, sometimes other impulses take over."

  As soon as we reach the main doors, I realize that we're not going to be able to get out this way. There are no soldiers on the other side of the doors this time, but as hard as I try to get the doors open, some kind of mechanism is holding them closed. Since the glass is pretty-much bomb proof, it's clear that the ward is completely sealed off.

  "Mummy?" Emma says, squeezing my hand. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I mutter, my mind racing as I try to work out how the hell we're going to get out of here. It's as if we've been sealed in completely, left to rot until the military finally manage to destroy this place completely.

  "Mummy," she continues, "you look scared."

  "I'm not scared," I reply, still trying to think of something, "I just..." Pausing, I realize that time must be running out. If the soldiers have left, they must be preparing to take some kind of action against the hospital. We might only have seconds, or minutes, before they drop some kind of bomb on the place. I accepted a long time ago that I'm going to die, but there's no way I can let Emma share that fate. There has to be a way out of this, if only I can figure it out.

  "Mummy," Emma says, "are you sure you're okay?"

  "We need to find a phone," I reply, turning and looking back along the corridor. "There has to be a phone here somewhere."

  "There's a phone in the doctor's office," Emma replies.

  "Where?" I ask.

  She points back the way we came.

  "Show me," I say, starting to lead her along the corridor. "I need to call someone and let them know that there are still people in here. I need to let them know that you're in here!"

  "It's in the doctor's office," she replies. "The one who used to come and talk to you while I was visiting?"

  "Dr. Page?"

  "I think so."

  "Show me the phone," I tell
her, hoping against hope that it's still active. If it is, it might offer us a chance. On the other hand, if there's no phone, we might not have time to look for another option. As Emma's mother, I have a responsibility to keep her alive, no matter the cost. Right now, however, it's starting to look as if I might be too late to save her.

  Deep in my belly, the pain is returning.

  Dr. Andrew Page

  As soon as I get to my office, I set the metal pan down on the desk and grab the phone. Pausing for a moment, I glance over at the rest of the furniture and realize that everything seems to have been moved around, as if someone was in here without my permission. Figuring that this isn't the moment to start worrying about trivial things, I start going through my pockets, desperately trying to find the card with John Lincoln's number. I have to get in touch with him and tell him to cancel the missiles. All I need is -

  And that's when I notice something moving on my desk.

  I stare in horror as I realize that one of the tumors is twitching. Walking over to the desk, I look down and see that while the smaller tumor is still not moving, the larger tumor appears to be alive again, and its white cord has been pushed through the outer wall of its smaller rival. With a growing sense of dread, I realize that I was wrong. The two tumors didn't kill one another. Instead, the larger tumor killed its rival and, now, appears to be consuming it, growing stronger and bigger in the process.

  I was wrong.

  Still holding the phone in my hand, I feel all the brief excitement of the past couple of minutes start to slip away. How could I have been so quick to rush to judgment? It should have occurred to me that the tumors weren't dead, and that one was in fact merely dominating the other. As I continue to stare into the pan, I can see the smaller tumor becoming more weathered, as the larger tumor undoubtedly removes as many nutrients as possible.

  Introducing a second tumor to an infected body wouldn't result in both cancers dying. Instead, it would just feed the stronger cancer.