Extinct (AM13 Outbreak Series), page 13
My face flames while my veins freeze over. My body completely betrays me in every possible way. Do I think that? I definitely thought there was something between us—especially since that kiss. Was that all a lie too?
Did I imagine everything?
That thought horrifies me almost as much as the cure being a fake—how pathetic does that make me?
“Even worse, you love him!” Michael laughs loudly and cruelly. “That’s just priceless.”
I move backwards, more desperate than ever to get away from this nutcase. Whatever the fuck is going on here, I don’t want to be a part of it anymore—now more than ever. “Tom’s on his way, you know.” I say, trying to sound threatening.
“Oh, I know.” Michael nods, now looking serious. “He works for me. I know exactly what he’s doing. I know where he is at all times.”
“He works for you? Doing what, exactly? Finding a cure?” I glance around, trying again to locate a means of escape whilst distracting him with my questions. “Because that’s what he told me you were doing. I thought that was why you needed that.” I indicate the vial that’s now sitting in his hands, taunting me. “Was that a lie too?”
What the fuck do I do now?
I want to provoke some sort of reaction from him. I want to trick him into talking, so he doesn’t notice me getting away. But I’m finding this so incredibly difficult. My brain feels sluggish; I don’t feel like my normal, intelligent self. It’s as if I’m surrounded by a fog of confusion and it’s horrible. I need my brain now more than ever.
Help me, brain!
“A cure?” He repeats my question thoughtfully. “You don’t really believe that’s the answer, do you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, barely listening now.
“If you look at this from a scientific point of view, we need to consider the survival-of-the-fittest theory here. Maybe the people who outlive this virus are the ones who are supposed to. Maybe the ones who succumb to this—who die—are the weak ones, who no longer deserve life. Have you ever thought that maybe people with my level of knowledge shouldn’t be curing this, but we should be studying it instead? We may need to rewrite the history books one day…”
I’m completely ignoring his insane rambling. He’s clearly talking a load of psychotic bullshit that I really don’t want to know anything about. This was a massive mistake—I have no idea what the fuck Tom is doing, getting involved with this idiot.
Mind you, the less I think about Tom right now, the better.
While Michael is in his narcissistic bubble, I’m slowly creeping backwards, working my way to getting as far away from here as possible.
As soon as I get outside, I’ll need to run faster than I have ever run before. It worries me how unfit I am, how feeble my body currently is, but I’ll just have to hope that it’s enough. I’ll need to find help, to come back with people with weapons to save Melody, Andy, and the others. I can’t do that by myself, but I can’t stay either.
If I don’t go, we will all die for sure.
It’s actually up to me to get us all away from this insane freak.
I can’t believe that it’s come down to this, to me.
If I’ve ever needed to be brave, to stop being me for just a minute, then this is it.
Michael steps towards me, still talking. I glance backwards to see how far away from the door I am. That action turns out to be a fatal mistake, because as I turn, I feel a shocking massive thump around the side of my head. I can sense my body flying through the air, and slumping to the ground, but my eyes have given up and I can’t see anything so I can’t quite work out exactly what’s going on.
Why does everything hurt?
I want to scream, to shriek, to cry out for help, but it’s as if I’m paralysed by pain. I just need to keep alert, I need to keep my brain going, I can’t blackout.
A blackout will mean death…
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
My head is throbbing as I start to come back around. I can hear voices yelling and it takes a few moments for me to remember where I am, and as soon as I do, the icy terror grips me once more.
A pair of strong arms wrap around me, lifting my limp body from the ground as if I’m nothing more than a rag doll. I’m far too weak to resist this, much as I’m desperate to. I sniff slightly, glad I can still at least use my nose after the beating I took beforehand, trying to see if I recognise the scent of the person holding me, but all I get is a strong, tempting, and very unwelcome smell of meat.
“Georgie?” a voice calls lightly into my ear. “Are you okay?”
“Tom?” I try to croak, but my mouth can’t form the words.
Tom’s here?
I know how I should feel about that—especially after everything Michael told me, but all I feel is relief. Someone familiar, someone I trust, someone I’ve been through a lot with is here by my side. I’m no longer alone with that crazy lunatic.
I wonder what’s going on with Andy and the others. How were they doing before I got knocked out? I can barely remember. If Tom’s here, they must be okay though.
I open my eyes to look into Tom’s, just to clarify that my brain hasn’t invented him because I want him to be here so badly. But as soon as I confirm to myself that he’s really there, rather than concentrating on him and drinking in his appearance, I can see myself reflected—and it’s horrifying. I look beyond skeletal, my skin looks crispy and grey with black vein-y lines underneath, I can even see that my irises have gone a ghastly milky white.
A horrible numbness consumes me.
Although I knew deep down I was changing, although Michael told me the cure meant nothing, it’s still a shock to see myself this way. I think if I had anything solid inside of me, I would be sick this instant. Instead, all I can do is stare.
“Did he do anything to you?” Tom asks kindly. The concern for me is evident in his features.
“Of course I didn’t!” Michael’s cold voice intervenes before I even get an opportunity to open my mouth. “I just had to keep her here for you. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Trust me, there’s a whole lot I could have done.”
Where are the others? I try to ask, but of course I can’t say a word. I’m desperate to know where Andy is, where Melody is. I don’t even care if I never get to tell Tom what Michael did to me—clearly knocking me out means nothing to him! I just want to find the others and get the fuck away from here.
Whatever’s happening to me, I don’t want to do it here.
“She knows about all the lies you’ve told her,” Michael snaps nastily once more.
The way Tom’s eyes cloud over proves to me that what Michael’s saying is true. That everything he said about the cure was bullshit. The fact that I’m really infected and that I am going to die hits me hard. It’s like a thump to my stomach. I feel myself crumble, but I can’t even cry—there’s no water inside me to do so.
Tom lied. Everything he ever said to me was a lie.
“Georgie, let me explain,” Tom says desperately, gazing into my eyes. I’m in no position to argue, so I just lie in his arms, flaccidly, hoping beyond all hope that his explanation goes some way to making it better, even though I know it won’t. How can it? “I met Michael during my time here; you know better than anyone all the trouble the mission caused me.” I disregard his attempts to justify all of this, just because he went through a hard time. We’ve all been through a Goddamn hard time! “He has been working on a cure ever since the outbreak, but without any help or backing, it hasn’t been easy. I wanted to help him, I wanted all of this to be over, so I brought a few infected here for him to test on, to help him. Sort of in the same way we did for Dr. Jones.”
Does that mean there were infected on our island all along? Had Jasmine been right the first day I met her? I guess it does—I mean, the diary told me that much. If only I’d taken the time to listen.
The book! What happened to that?
Why can’t I remember anything?
“Then, I got into trouble when I refused to kill those healthy people—that happened after the first guy I told you about, and the incident with Wesley with the woman and children. Anyway, instead of murdering them, I sent them here to help Michael. The girl had some scientific knowledge so I thought that would be a wise decision—I know she wanted to make a contribution. And that’s what got me kicked out of the mission, so I had to take a different approach. I came back to get Dr. Jones—to rescue him and bring him here. Of course, that didn’t quite go to plan…”
“Don’t lie to the girl, she’s practically dead!” Michael shouts, sounding gleeful at the prospect of my pain.
I start to feel anticipation at finally discovering the truth. I knew something was up—I’ve always known it and now I’m about to find out everything. It’s a shame I’m only finding things out now, as I lay here dying.
Tom sighs. “A part of me wanted to take the power away from those people. They didn’t deserve it—they’d never earned it and they were abusing it. Plus, they took me off the mission for no good reason. I guess I started this off wanting the cure for leverage. I was going to free everyone too—of course that was my main intention! The rest of it was just…stupidity.” He glances down at me; I can see how desperate he is for me to believe him.
Do I?
I don’t know. I guess I never really knew him, I just wanted to—everything he told me, even during those magical weeks at the beginning in the camp, could have all been bullshit. In fact, it’s probably best if I assume that it was all lies from now on. “Then I ran into you. That complicated things. I never expected to see you again, and when I did…I just couldn’t let you go once more.”
At one time, I would have analysed this statement to death—wondering if that meant he liked me as much as I did him. I would have pieced everything together, looking for clues, thinking whatever the hell I wanted to think.
Now all I can feel is a deep-seated need to bite him. Nothing else is even registering, not really.
I’m managing to resist. For now.
“Then, I made the awful mistake of killing your friend. That wasn’t my intention, I assure you. But she freaked out when Dr. Jones started his insane ramble about the cure being useless for AM13. She wouldn’t stop questioning me; she didn’t trust that I knew what I was doing. She threatened me. She said she knew I was up to something evil, that I was no good for you, even when I explained it all to her. Even when I told her Dr. Jones was mental. She said she was going to tell you to leave me and…I didn’t want you to go. I didn’t want you to look at me the way she was. She didn’t understand and I didn’t want to lose you over misinformation. I just, I lost it…”
Tom killed Jasmine? Is that what he’s saying? Why isn’t my brain deciphering this information properly? I don’t know if it’s his rant that’s incoherent or I just can’t really follow what he’s saying.
Now as I’m looking at Tom, I think I can see a sort of madness behind his eyes. Has that always been there? Did I miss it because I was so pathetically in love with him?
“Then Edmond betrayed me too. He was so obsessed with finding his daughter. He would have said anything to make that happen—he couldn’t see that we had more important things to do. Anyway, he wouldn’t stop saying that the cure wasn’t for the virus, that it was for cancer. He was beyond insane; whatever they’d done to him had sent him around the bend…”
Wait…Melody was right? Tom killed Dr. Jones too?
Oh God, all those times I completely disregarded her! Was I always such an idiot or did that happen around the time the virus broke free?
“Fucking hell, Tom. You’re almost as naïve as she is. The cure is bullshit, it always was. What Edmond said to you was correct—you shouldn’t have killed him. I wanted him here, I told you to bring him to me!” Michael’s evil sounding voice cuts to my core.
“Wait—wh-what do you mean?” Tom stutters, stepping backwards as Michael’s shadow gets closer. It’s almost as if he didn’t know this part—that he didn’t know the “cure” he gave me was just more of his lies.
I don’t believe him though.
Or more, I don’t care anymore.
“When I had that young lad—Benjamin, or whatever his name was, the one who was the personal assistant to the guy in charge, Parle—steal the book, using that communication device you left for me, he read some of it out. You know, just so I knew what I was dealing with. Back then, I did suspect that there might have been really something to his work. But by an unfortunate twist of events, Dr. Jones only thought he’d cured cancer—maybe he had, who knows what’s in this vial. Or cares for that matter! It’s unimportant now.” His tone is sarcastic, his smirk nasty. This guy is a certified nut job! “Anyway, I had him rip that part of the page out so you never saw it; I didn’t want you to be distracted. I needed you—I needed you to get him.”
“Wha—”
“Benjamin lost the book, of course. He was a terrified idiot; I should never have trusted him. Luckily, you managed to get it to me anyway. At least you did that much right!” He cackles loudly. The sound hurts my eardrums.
Was that because of me? I wish I could remember. The frustration is bringing back the rage now and I’m struggling to keep it under control.
“So wait,” Tom starts, his grip on me slipping. “If you never intended to cure this virus, what the fuck did you need Dr. Jones and the Goddamn book for?”
“I wanted all of his knowledge and information. He’s had much better access to them than me. He knows more. As a scientist, I need to study AM13, I need to learn. I wanted to learn from him, I wanted him to help me…”
As Michael continues to speak, Tom starts to shake with anger. It’s as if he’s realising that he’s been supporting the wrong side the whole time.
Funny, not long ago I had the exact same realisation about him.
It’s almost as if he forgets that I’m there, that I’m lying in his arms. His rage and confusion overshadows any concern for me. Or himself. As he takes a step towards Michael, his hands completely lose any hold on me and my body finally tumbles to the ground, hitting it hard once more, bruising me all over yet again.
I use the anger that has been bubbling and growing within me for energy and push myself into a standing position. This action makes them forget the aggravation that’s boiling between the pair. Instead, they concentrate on me. I stare menacingly at both the men, wondering which one I’m going to kill first. They both fucking deserve a brutal death. As I weigh up the options, as I decide who should go right away, I can hear a growling noise, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.
Tom looks afraid.
Michael looks arrogant.
I pant heavily, waiting for one of them to make a move—to make my decision for me. These fuckers don’t deserve to live. They should be infected, not me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t use my talent and brains for evil. I didn’t help a psychopath, assisting the end of the human race.
That was them, not me.
Then, it hits me that if I kill one of these men, then not only will I be as bad as them—but I’ll also have to accept that I have fully succumbed to the infection. I want to hold that moment off for as long as possible. I was never designed to be a killer, and I want to be me until the very last minute.
So instead, I turn to run as fast as I can.
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Oh my God.
The second I turn to leave, to escape this nightmare, to ensure I don’t do anything I’ll go on to regret, I finally see what we’ve been standing in the middle of this entire time.
Bodies, infected, limbs, lying all over the place, scattered, deserted as if they are simply car parts or the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner.
I remember thinking that this cabin looked like something from a horror film from the outside, but the inside is beyond even the wildest imagination of the most gruesome filmmaker. No longer is it the place where teens go to die, it’s where a madman conducts his fucked up fantasies—the sort of thing no one should ever have to find!
I don’t turn back to see Michael or Tom, to find out what they’re thinking, instead I wander around the room in a jerky fashion, dragging my left foot behind me. After all the beating and bashing I’ve been through since arriving here, my body has seemingly sustained a lot more damage. I can sense the pain is there, but it’s duller than it should be. It isn’t having the lasting impact that it probably should be.
I wonder if that’s down to the virus.
As I go, I find myself running my fingers over the torso of an AM13 victim that Michael has picked up somewhere along the way, who seemingly died of her own accord. She’s mushy, so much so that one of my fingers pops right through her at one point, as if she’s made of candyfloss.
I should be disgusted, I should want to vomit profusely at this, but instead I’m just fascinated, intrigued by her. Outwardly, I know she is gross, but I just don’t feel it.
It’s just so odd seeing someone that not so long ago I would have been absolutely petrified of. Is it a fitting end to the monsters that only had one goal—to bite, infect, and eat others? Is this sad pathetic mess all that they deserve? Or should I be concentrating on the person she was before AM13 wormed its way inside of her?
Will I deserve to end up this way too? How many people am I likely to kill along the way? How many people are left? Will there be anyone for me to kill—aside from the two evil bastards stood in the room with me?
I pick up a stray arm that’s been discarded on a metallic surface and wave it from side to side. I take a tentative sniff, just to see what I’m dealing with. I half expect the flesh to smell tantalising, but thankfully it holds no appeal for me whatsoever. I emanate a slight sigh of relief at this new knowledge, without taking up too much time to wonder why or how.
While my brain is seemingly in full working order for a moment, I go over all the details I can remember, just to see what conclusions I can draw, to see if I can think of anything useful. I know that Tom said Michael was working on a cure here. However Michael said that wasn’t the case. He said this virus couldn’t be cured, that it shouldn’t be. He said he was going to study it, to rewrite the history books.
