Adam Baker - Terminus

The creature began to slide itself along the pike.

‘Get the bomb,’ shouted Lupe.

‘Wait,’ said Tombes. ‘Just hold on.’

Crack of ignition. Paint combusted and filled the tunnel with fire. The creature thrashed and squealed. Lupe and Donahue released the pike and jumped back.

Tombes pulled the remaining detonators from his waistband and hurled them into the tunnel. They fell among the flames and started to cook. Detonations like firecrackers. Flying stone chips.

The hybrid shrieked and retreated down the tunnel. It thrashed and threw itself against the conduit walls as if it were trying to shake off the flames. The pike was still embedded in its chest. The iron rod sparked as it raked brickwork.

The creature turned the distant junction corner and passed out of sight, leaving the conduit littered with scraps of burning, smouldering flesh.

Mewing. Squealing. Inhuman shrieks of rage and pain.

Lupe reattached the conduit grille and stacked boxes against the tunnel mouth.

‘You both saw that, right?’ she asked. ‘Cloke and Galloway. The two of them combined.’

Tombes sat on the plant room floor, back to the wall. Donahue sat beside him. She cleaned blood from his hands and bound them with bandages.

‘I’m not going out like that,’ said Tombes. ‘Absorbed into some kind of giant flesh-monster. Swear to God. Anything but that.’

‘It will be back,’ said Lupe. ‘It won’t forget about us.’

‘Not by this route. It won’t risk getting cooked a second time.’

‘Hard to believe it was ever human.’

‘I’d like to think there’s nothing of Cloke left inside that head.’

Donahue sat cross-legged and warmed her hands over the fire.

Sicknote studied her slumped shoulders, tried to work out if she were asleep. He shuffled sideways. He sat next to Ekks.

‘How you doing?’ he whispered, looking down at the sleeping man. ‘The pipes are freezing. Can you hear them? Contracting metal. Creak and groan.’

No reply.

‘Come on. You’re awake. I’ve been watching. You’ve been awake a long while.’

Ekks opened his eyes and stared back at him.

Sicknote held up the notebook.

‘You found a cure, didn’t you? You nailed it. Everyone else struck out. Biocontainment labs around the world trying to cook up a vaccine. Expert virologists hunched over electron microscopes. You were stuck down here with a couple of scalpels. But you got there. You made the leap.’

Ekks licked parched lips. Sicknote held a bottle of water to his mouth.

‘The others think you are a fraud. But they can all go to hell, right? Must be quite a trip. The power to save humanity. In your skull. Makes you the most important guy who ever lived, right? A bigger deal than Napoleon, Lincoln, Hitler. Shit, right now you’re bigger than Jesus.’

No reply.

‘You want stuff, don’t you? You’re not going to give up that cure without something in return. Smart guy. Keep them waiting. Keep them guessing. Hold those aces long as you can. Take your own sweet time, then name your price.’

Ekks held out his hands. He mimed pen and paper.

Sicknote looked around. Cloke’s jacket. He searched pockets. He found a pencil stub and a crumpled notepad.

Ekks took the pencil. Sicknote held the pad.

Ekks scrawled:

How long have I got?

‘Days. Maybe hours. Sorry, man. The bomb was a tactical nuke, some kind of super-radiation warhead. Zapped the whole island in the blink of an eye. Death rays passed through concrete, passed through rock. We both caught a killer dose.’

Ekks closed his eyes.

‘You want some meds? These guys are EMTs. They brought a big-ass trauma kit. Uppers, downers, all kinds of shit.’

No reply.

‘Hey. You might get lucky. They’ll do everything they can to keep you alive. Once they get you back to Ridgeway they’ll probably give you transfusions. O neg, right? Nothing fancy? Imagine that. All those cops and army guys lining up, offering the blood in their veins. Shit, they wouldn’t lift a finger to save my ass. Wouldn’t spit in a cup. But you. You’re the big prize. My advice? Keep your mouth shut long as you can. The moment you give them what they need, your life won’t be worth a damn.’

Sicknote glanced at Donahue. She gazed into the fire, drowsed on the edge of sleep.

He leaned close to Ekks and whispered in his ear.

‘Know what? I can hear the virus. I can hear it, singing in the shadows. See that pipe over there? That grille? It’s down there, in the dark. It’s calling. You can hear it too, right? You know what I’m talking about. I can feel the pull. It’s north of here. Not sure how far. The heart of the city. Must be near the bomb site. Too hot to approach. Too hot for humans.’

Ekks didn’t respond.

‘You know what I’m saying. I’m not talking about Galloway. I’m not talking about those ragged-ass prowlers out there in the street. There’s something else. An intelligence deep within the tunnel system. It’s made a home in the lowest sub-levels of the city. It’s growing. It’s getting stronger. This empty, radioactive world suits it just fine.

It knows we are here. Those sorry fucks in the street. Eyes and ears. Watching us. Relaying our movements like CCTV.

This thing owns the city now, you understand what I’m saying? Manhattan Island. Its domain. Its flesh and bone. It wants us gone. It’s sending out antibodies.’

He polished the remaining lens of his spectacles.

‘Let me ask you something, doc. I got to know. The virus. Where does it come from? Was it cooked up in a lab? Did it drop from outer space? What’s the deal? Come on. You studied this disease a long while. What does it want?’

No reply.

Ekks cocked his head, like he was appraising Sicknote. He waved for a fresh sheet of paper. He raised a weak hand and began to write.

Sicknote examined the list.

‘What do you want me to do with this? I don’t know where to get this stuff. Don’t even know what it looks like.’

Ekks pointed at the trashed transmitter lying nearby.

‘You want the radio?’

Ekks nodded.

Sicknote held the broken radio in his lap.

‘This thing is all the way screwed.’

He turned chunks of scorched circuit board in his hands.

‘Sorry. I can’t fix this shit. I don’t know anything about radios. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

Ekks pointed at the radio again.

‘I don’t know what you want from me, doc. I’m not an educated guy. This list might as well be Chinese. I don’t know what any of it means. Maybe I should call the others. You want to talk to them? I’ll show them the list. They’re smart. They can make things work.’

Ekks shook his head. He struggled to raise himself on one elbow. He pointed at Sicknote, summoned his strength and spoke a single word:

‘You.’

Sicknote studied the circuit boards. Helpless shrug.

‘Why me? I’ve been locked up my whole life. Seriously. It’s been twelve years since I bought something in a store. Never had a phone. Never cooked a meal. I’m a life-long loser. I’m no damn good. Talk to Donahue. Talk to Tombes. They know how to fix machines. I can’t help. I wish I could.’

Ekks lay back and closed his eyes.

Sicknote held a sliver of board. Circuit tracery glinted firelight. He adjusted his spectacles and squinted with his good eye.

‘Hold on,’ he murmured.

He plucked a component from the circuit board. He wiped soot from the surface with a spit-wet finger. A little black chip with silver legs, like a robot cockroach. He held it close, like a jeweller assessing the internal structure of a diamond.