Scott Sigler - Contagious

Dew was right. Dew had fought, had sacrificed. He wasn’t asking Perry to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.

“Can they hear me in there?” Perry asked.

Margaret nodded. “There are speakers in the cell. The microphone in your earpiece picks up your voice. They can hear you just fine.”

Perry nodded inside the helmet. Now he was grateful for the suit, because if he pissed himself no one would see. He cleared his throat. For some reason he remembered the punch line to an old joke: It’s sure not gonna suck itself .

No more waiting.

“I’m supposed to talk to you,” he said. “Figure out what you want.”

We wantkill you. You are the destroyer.

Full sentences. Punctuation. Soon they would tear free from the woman’s body.

“Where is the next gate?”

Nothing.

“You want to… open up the door, I know that. What’s going to come through?”

Ayyynnngellls.

Angels. Coming through the gate. Perry had never heard that from his own triangles, and there was something profoundly disturbing about it.

The angelsare coming. People build for them," just like we do. We’re going to make your life a living hell,"just like we do. We’re going to make your life a living hell, and that’s what you deserve, you cheating bastard.

They seemed different, different from his own triangles, the ones he had called the Magnificent Seven. Different from Fatty Patty’s triangles and hatchlings. These three sounded feminine, but caustic, angry. Perry wondered what Bernadette Smith’s personality had been like before the infections. Something told Perry there was one word for it— bitch.

“What did they say?” Dew asked.

“Hard to tell,” Perry said. “I think whatever is coming through wants to make us build things.”

“Build things?” Dew said. He spoke louder, as if that would held him be heard inside the containment cell. “What are we going to build for you?”

You’ll dowhat you’re told or you’ll get the paddle.

“They’re not going to say what it is,” Perry said. “I can tell. So much hate, derision coming off them… I think they want to make us slaves.”

“Oh fuck that,” Dew said. “The Jewells. Ask them where the Jewells are, see if you get any vibes.”

Kill him.Get the gun, kill kill kill.

Perry stared at them, waiting to feel the rush of violent desire.

But he didn’t feel anything.

He’d beaten them. Dew was right, he could do this.

“Where is the Jewell family?” Perry said, his voice growing a little stronger with each word. “Bobby Jewell, Candice Jewell, Chelsea Jewell.

Where are they?”

Perry locked onto their jet-black eyes. Nothing.

And then he heard a voice. Not the triangles, something new.

Something cold.

I think you should leave the Jewell family alone.

A little girl’s voice. Clear, human, but in his head.

You’re scared, aren’t you? You should be scared.

“You’re scared, too,” Perry said. “I can feel it.”

Dew nudged Perry’s shoulder. “What are they saying, kid?”

Kill that man.

“Nothing,” Perry said. “They’re not saying anything.”

I can make you do it. I’m in charge. People have to do what I say.

An intense rage swept through Perry. Oh, God, there it was, that heated lust to hurt . The hatchlings couldn’t stir that up in him anymore, but this girl could, and far more powerfully than he’d ever felt before.

Only this time he felt it for Dew Phillips.

Kill him.

Kill him.

“I gotta get out of here,” Perry said. “I can’t be in here.”

“Kid, come on,” Dew said. “Don’t chicken out now. We have to find the Jewells, or at least see if the triangle-whatever will negotiate or something.”

What’s the matter, scaredy-cat? Are you afraid?

Perry shook his head. “No. I got to go. Margaret, whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it quick. They’re going to hatch soon.”

“How do you know?” Margaret asked.

“They’re using complete sentences,” Perry said. “Pauses, like they’re talking with punctuation. They didn’t do that with me until near the end.

You’ve got a day, maybe half a day before they hatch.”

Kill him.

Margaret looked at Bernadette, then back to Perry. “You’re sure about that?”

“Perry, talk to them,” Dew said.

I feel your fear. I’m going to get you…

Perry put his hands to his ears, a subconscious effort to block out the voices. His gloved hands hit his helmeted head before he remembered he couldn’t actually hear the voices with his ears at all.

“Leave me alone!”

“Okay, kid,” Dew said. “Just take it easy.”

“Don’t worry, Perry,” Margaret said. “We’re going to operate on her right now. We’ll get rid of them.”

Perry had to turn his whole body so he could look at Margaret. She seemed so small, a tiny face swimming inside that big helmet, like a guppy in a fishbowl. Was she really that naive?

“You know what?” Perry said. “I never thanked you for saving my life.”

He turned and opened the airlock door. The light changed from green to red. He walked out. Dew followed, shutting the door behind them both.

Margaret stared atthe red/green light above the airlock door for a few seconds, irrationally worried it wouldn’t change from red back to green, that she wouldn’t be able to open the door again and that Bernadette might tear free from the trolley at any moment. When it finally turned back to green, Margaret realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Margo, you okay?” Clarence asked.

“Fine,” she said.

“Man,” Clarence said. “That guy is soooo messed up.”

“Yes, he is,” Margaret said. “It’s got to be hard to see triangles again. So disturbing to see them for anyone… I can’t imagine what’s it’s like for Perry. Despite that, aside from what he just had to endure, I think he’s making progress. It was nice of him to finally thank me for saving him.”

“That’s not what he said. He said he never thanked you. I don’t think he wanted to live.”

She started to correct Clarence but stopped herself. Maybe he was right. Perry Dawsey’s life wasn’t exactly a bed of roses.

“It doesn’t matter, because I did save him.” She jerked her thumb toward Bernadette. “And I’m going to save her, too. Now, please help me prep this woman for surgery. If Perry’s right, we don’t have much time.”

“We need to go back to the control room first,” Clarence said. “We need to talk to Murray.”

“Why the hell do we need to talk to Murray? We need to get moving, hon. Every second counts.”

“Please, Margaret,” Clarence said. “This is already complicated enough.

We have to make sure the president is informed. Doctor Dan needs to suit up, anyway. He can prep the patient while we tell Murray what’s going on. Okay?”

She didn’t have time for this. But then again, keeping the wheels greased was part of the program. Gutierrez wanted to pretend he was in control? She could play that game, but only for so long.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said. “But you’ve got fifteen minutes, hon. Then I’m operating no matter what. We’re going to need all hands for this. We might have to work as two separate teams simultaneously, Dan and Marcus on the heart, Gitsh and I on the hip.”

“Sure,” Clarence said quietly. “I’ll get everyone ready. You get back to the control room, okay?”