Infinity Cage (21 page)

‘We have to leave here now!’

Bob looked up at him. ‘What has happened, Liam?’ he rasped.

‘We’ve got a bunch of rather excited fellas downstairs who’ve … Well, I think they’ve gone and mistaken me for Jesus.’

‘That is not helpful.’

‘Too right it’s not. We’re going to have to leave. If they start yapping about it, we’ll have Romans and all sorts turning up before we know it.’

Bob got up off the straw mattress. ‘The portal doesn’t open until midday tomorrow.’

‘I know! I know!’ Liam gathered up his goatskin bag. ‘We’ll just have to go and find somewhere else to lie low until then. Here …’ He tossed Bob a prayer shawl. ‘Stick that over your bonce … for what good it’s going to do.’

They clambered down the creaking ladder. Liam could hear a number of raised voices coming from the doorway leading to the tavern. A heated debate by the sound of it. More than heated. There were voices that sounded downright enraged.

Damn … we’re going to have to go through that.
There was no other exit.

‘All right, Bob. We better just run through there. No
stopping. And definitely no fighting … all right? We don’t want another riot. We just run out and try to make sure no one follows us.’

Liam crept over to the doorway and stood beside it. The bud in his ear was detecting some of the loudly hurled words and having a go at translating snatches of the exchange.

‘… have defiled the holy ground! They have angered God!’

‘… heard him speak at Cana three days ago. I saw him … he speaks unlike any other prophet I have –’

‘… is not the same one from Nazareth. Nor is he the one who was in the temple! I heard he had darker skin!’

‘… you were not even there! You did not see for yourself, Linus! You listen to gossip like an old washerwoman!’

‘… will split your young skull, you ignorant goat!’

‘… 
I
was there.
I
saw. I heard him. The giant was possessed by evil vengeful spirits! He commanded the spirits to leave! Cast the spirits towards a flock of …’

‘… they say the giant is two-men tall. That he killed more than a hundred Romans!’

Liam turned to Bob. ‘This is getting completely out of hand.’

‘You could tell them they are all mistaken.’

‘Seriously?’ Liam shook his head. ‘Every time I whisper some English they think I’m speaking Angel or something. We just better go!’

Bob nodded. ‘I will lead the way, then.’

‘Sure. OK …’ He stepped back. ‘You be the bulldozer again.’

Bob stood beside the low entrance and turned round to Liam. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Not really. Let’s just do it.’

The support unit nodded. He took a deep breath, then ducked through the low wooden beam above the entrance. Almost
instantly the shouted exchanges ceased as all eyes settled on him. He stepped forward across the crowded tavern; Liam emerged from the entrance in his wake.

‘There he is!’ a voice cried out. ‘The giant!’

‘Look! The prophet!’

Bob strode quickly across the floor, the men hastily backing away from him. As Liam followed behind, a hand grasped at his shoulder. ‘You are the one who claims God as his father?’

It was the young man who’d spoken to him earlier. Liam muttered a reply to get the translation, but before he could say he was mistaking him for the real Jesus the young man’s eyes widened. ‘You are talking with God?! Right now?’

Liam clamped his lips shut and shook his head mutely. He shrugged his shoulder roughly to get rid of the hand, but the hand ended up dragging at the strap of his bag. The bag was pulled from his arm and fell, spilling its contents across the dirt and straw-covered floor.

‘Forgive me!’ cried the young man.

Liam ducked down and grabbed the bag. The young man hurriedly dropped to his knees to help him gather up his possessions, but his eyes settled on the gleaming metal shaft of the torch. Curious, he reached for it and grasped it.

‘Better give that to me … please.’

The young man was gazing with intense fascination at the strange thing in his hands. Like a curious child his thumb was drawn to the toggle switch. It flipped and switched on. A beam of light lanced out across the dim tavern, catching the kicked-up dust and the built-up smoke from the tavern’s oven, creating a solid lance of light going up to the low ceiling.

Outside in the full glare of the sun the momentary pallid glow of the torch’s bulb would have been missed, or written off as a mere reflection on a smooth surface. But in here, in this
dimly lit interior … it was a dazzling beacon, a glowing pillar of transcendent beauty.

The young man lurched backwards, dropping the torch as if it had been pulled fresh from a blacksmith’s fire. The beam flickered around, spinning on the floor. The men staggered back, startled, in a blind panic, and leaped out of its way, as if the shaft of light was the deadly glowing manifestation of an asp.

Liam reached down and snapped the light off. He tucked it into his bag. Grabbed the spilled diary and the fountain pen and then looked up at a circle of terrified faces.

Oh, just great
.

Bob was standing beside the doorway leading out on to the narrow rat run. He grunted with a deep painful-sounding growl at Liam to get a move on.

‘I’m coming! I’m coming!’ He hurried across, the men inside clearing a way for him, staring goggle-eyed at him as he passed.

Bob led the way outside and winced at the daylight. Liam stood in the doorway and turned round to look back at the men inside. They were whispering … all of them … whispering to each other.

Becks stood her lonely vigil by the motel chalet’s grimy window, staring out at the moonlit scene. The viral soup glistened wetly, like season’s-end snow that had melted to a discoloured mush.

Her mind, of course, was on the job, watching out for any potential threat as those she cared for slept in a huddled-together pile on the floor of this room. But a portion of her attention was distracted in silent conversation. She was busy assessing the tactical situation with a temporarily constructed AI module. Naturally, she chose to visualize the AI as Bob standing dutifully beside her.

Bob turned to look at her.
> They will die soon if we remain here. There is little water left.

> Yes, they will. All of them. Including Charley.

Bob frowned thoughtfully for a moment.
> Send me your data concerning Charley. I wish to review it.

> You wish to know if I have developed an emotional attachment to her?

> Affirmative.

The faint ghost of a smile spread across her lips. She met his gaze.
> I believe I have.

Becks opened a precious small folder in her mind, a folder that she’d only recently set up to corral her observations and
thoughts … and feelings. She transmitted what she’d accumulated in there across nano-circuitry in her head to the temporary AI.

Bob digested her data for a few moments.

> Yes … I understand now. She is vulnerable. Fragile. Your attachment to her is analogous to maternal affection?

Becks smiled.
> I believe so. I now have an understanding why human parents will sacrifice themselves for their children.

> This is an illogical act. More offspring can be produced by a parent. However, if a parent dies, it is unable to care for its existing offspring.

> Illogical,
she agreed.
But unavoidable.

> Agreed. It is imprinted behaviour. Every species is designed to create offspring, then expend available resources in preserving its survival. All natural life and the behaviour patterns can be summed up as one process: the transmission and preservation of genetic information.

She cocked a brow; her cool grey eyes turned to her left as she imagined Bob standing there beside her.
> So that is what ‘love’ is?

> I believe this summation explains much of ‘emotional attachment’.

> It does not explain your emotional attachment to Liam. He is not your offspring.

Bob scowled as he processed that.
> He is my … friend.

> Mine too.
Instinctively she reached out a delicate hand and imagined grasping one of his enormous caveman hands.

> We are becoming like them, aren’t we?

Bob nodded.
> Affirmative. I think of myself as more human than AI now.

She smiled.
> You are still saying ‘affirmative’ when ‘yes’ is sufficient.

> I believe Liam likes me sounding like that.

As it happened, they managed to hold out for six days. If the glistening grey residue of the K-N virus hadn’t turned to what appeared to be a white dust, like icing sugar, they would have finally run out of options. The bottled water they’d brought with them and carefully rationed out was now all but gone. So the sudden drastic change to the appearance of the residue was enough for Maddy and Rashim to consider sending someone outside to test whether the white powder everywhere was now just a harmless residue of the virus, or still a highly infectious pathogen.

Rashim volunteered to go. But Maddy overruled him. She looked pointedly at Becks. ‘Becks … it has to be you.’

Becks nodded slowly, with just the slightest suggestion of reluctance. ‘Agreed. That is the logical choice, Maddy.’

Charley shook her head and rushed to her side, wrapping her arms tightly round her. ‘Don’t go out! You’ll die!’

‘I will be fine, Charley,’ she said softly.

Rashim pulled a stained and grubby plastic shower curtain down from the rusting rings in the bathroom and hung it across the doorway leading out on to the porch. ‘We need to create a containment screen when she opens the outer door. This’ll do.’

They then improvised a bio-hazard suit for Becks, wrapping her up in the plastic macs, pulling plastic bags over her hands and tying them tightly round her wrists. Rashim pulled the tacked-up shower curtain aside and Becks pressed herself flat against the front door as he and Maddy pulled the sheet back in place over the top of her.

‘OK, Becks … you’re sealed off as best we can. You can open the door now.’

‘Yes, Maddy.’

Becks turned the handle and pushed the wooden door gently outward. It creaked on old hinges as it slowly opened and she found herself staring out at a bright and colourless world. The pink-grey slime that had once been birds, leaves, grass, insects and squirrels had slowly lightened in colour over the last forty-eight hours until it was now snow-white. From what they’d been able to see through the one grimy window, it appeared to have completely dried out, become like a fine dust. Like a light powdery snow.

If it was entirely dry … then, hopefully, logically, it must be dead.

Becks flexed her arms and her wrapping of waterproof macs rustled noisily in the silence. Her mouth and nose were covered by a cloth mask, her hands contained within two layers of plastic bags. Hardly a proper bio-hazard suit, but it was the best that could be done with what they had.

Maddy’s voice was muffled through the shower curtain. ‘Just grab the nearest samples you can lay your hands on and come back!’

The support unit held in her hands a couple of empty
water bottles. She took several cautious tiptoe paces across the creaking floorboards of the porch towards the half a dozen steps that led down to the gravel-covered ground beyond. She turned to her right and saw their faces crammed together, peering out through the grimy window.

‘How are you feeling out there?!’ Maddy called out. ‘You all right, Becks?’

‘I am not yet experiencing any unusual symptoms.’

Becks squatted down near the edge of the porch and set the water bottles down. On the top step was a small white hump of the dried residue. She touched it gently through the plastic bags with the tip of her index finger.

‘The residue appears to have developed a hardened crust.’ She probed it a little more insistently and the residue cracked like eggshell. ‘There is a dry outer crust.’ She poked her finger into the small mound and pulled it out. A string of goo dangled from it.

‘Beneath the crust … there is still some moisture. It is like a thick paste.’

‘Get a sample of the crust,’ said Rashim. ‘And a sample of the paste.’

She nodded and unscrewed the cap of the bottle. Then, carefully, she peeled a fragment of the crust off; fragile like pastry, it began to crumble in her fingers. She gently dropped the dry crumbs of residue into the bottle, screwed the cap back on and set the bottle down. She picked up the other one, then dipped her finger into the soft interior of the small hump of residue and scooped some of the paste out. It dangled from her finger over the open bottle; a long pendulous drip clung for a couple of moments to the tip of her finger, then eventually dropped with a soft splat into the bottom of the bottle. She screwed the cap on.

‘I have obtained a sample of each.’

‘OK, job done,’ said Maddy. ‘Come back in.’

She made her way back towards the open door, stood just inside the doorway and pulled the door closed behind her.

‘OK, carefully take the plastic bags off your hands so you are pulling them inside out,’ said Rashim through the shower curtain, ‘then tie a knot in the top of each bag.’

Becks set the plastic bottles down on the floor and did as he’d instructed.

‘Now remove those macs and leave them there. Then we’ll let you past the curtain.’

Becks shrugged off the macs, let them drop to the floor and kicked them back against the bottom of the porch door.

‘Those sample bottles … there’s nothing on the outside of them, is there?’

‘No, Rashim. I was very careful.’

He nodded. ‘Good.’ He was about to pull the curtain aside, when Heywood stopped him.

‘Shouldn’t we wait just a bit? You know? Just to be safe? Make sure she’s not infected?’

He pursed his lips. ‘Yes, maybe you’re right. Becks, would you mind staying where you are for a little while?’

She nodded. ‘Of course. I understand.’

They kept her waiting for a couple of hours, standing with her back pressed to the door, a bottle in each hand and the shower curtain up against her, rustling in and out as she breathed.

Two hours of that and Maddy had finally had enough. ‘I guess she’s fine.’

‘Becks, do you feel any odd symptoms?’ Rashim peered at her through the shower curtain. ‘Check yourself again. Is any of your skin discoloured?’

Becks looked at her arms and hands. ‘I see no discoloration.’

He let out a breath. ‘All right … I think she is good to come in.’ He carefully pulled the curtain aside and Becks stepped forward. She held the plastic bottles out in front of her. ‘Here are your samples.’

Maddy and Rashim looked at each other for a moment. Maddy grabbed them both lightly at the bottom, grimacing as if they both contained warm urine samples. ‘Right … I guess we better get on and do this. Heywood, go and get our test subjects.’

He nodded. He stepped into the bathroom and came back a moment later with something cupped in his hand.

Maddy set the bottles down on the floor, then carefully unscrewed the cap of the one containing the dry powder from the crust. ‘OK … ready?’

Heywood knelt down beside her. ‘Lucky contestant number one.’ He uncupped his hands and tipped the cockroach he’d been holding into the bottle. Maddy quickly screwed the cap back on. They watched the creature scuttle around in the bottom of the bottle for a moment, its legs picking up the chalk-white dust.

‘Seems OK so far,’ said Heywood.

‘We don’t know that yet,’ replied Maddy. ‘Let’s test the gunk.’

Heywood went back into the bathroom and returned a moment later with another cockroach scooped up from the bathtub. She unscrewed the cap of the second bottle. ‘Ready?’

He nodded. She pulled the lid off. ‘Unlucky contestant number two.’

He tipped the creature in. It dropped to the bottom into the goo with a soft
spluck
. Like the first one, the cockroach skittered around the bottom of the bottle in circles, dragging a string of the viscous gunk after it.

‘Please be OK, Mr Bug,’ uttered Charley.

They gathered closely round both plastic bottles and watched the invertebrates exploring their new surroundings in mindless scratching circles.

‘Anyone know what a distressed cockroach looks like?’ said Maddy after a while.

‘Seen enough of ’em to know they’re hardy little buggers,’ replied Heywood. ‘If any species gonna outlive all the rest, it’ll be them for sure.’

They continued to watch in silence for half an hour. Neither roach seemed affected in any way.

‘What if these bugs
are
immune?’ said Heywood.

‘Nothing else that we have witnessed so far has been,’ said Rashim. ‘I cannot imagine why one particular species of invertebrate would be.’

Another half an hour passed silently. They stared in anxious silence, mouths dry, desperately thirsty. They weren’t going to last much longer trapped in this room. They needed to get out. They needed to find water.

The first cockroach, its dark brown carapace covered in a coating of pale dust, finally stopped moving.

‘Oh … please … no,’ whispered Maddy. ‘Come on, move, little bug, don’t die on us …’

Its antennae flickered and twitched and curled. Then it rolled on to its back, legs flexing and shuddering.

‘That doesn’t look very good,’ said Heywood.

Its tiny legs twitched one more time, then it was still. In the other bottle, the second cockroach was also beginning to slow down.

‘Oh no.’ Maddy sat back on her bottom. ‘They’re infected.’

Rashim was still peering closely at the dead one. ‘I do not see any tissue breakdown yet. But then … I do not know, that might be because the exoskeleton is a harder material for the virus to deconstruct?’

‘Air,’ said Charley. ‘Maybe they’re both running out of air?’

Rashim closed his eyes with relief. ‘Of course …’

Maddy sat up. ‘Oh God! Yes!’ She quickly leaned forward and carefully unscrewed the cap on the bottle containing the crust sample. The ‘dead’ cockroach immediately began to kick its legs. It wriggled on its back for a moment, then flipped itself over and resumed scuttling in circles round the base of the plastic bottle.

She unscrewed the cap of the other one and the roach covered
in gloop began to struggle with renewed vigour in the sticky mess.

She let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Well done, you lovely little beauties!’

Heywood snorted. ‘Never thought I’d wish one of these things a long and happy life.’

‘We should not get too excited yet,’ said Rashim. ‘We really have no clear idea how quickly this virus works.’

Maddy picked up the plastic bottle. ‘We don’t have time to be this cautious.’

Rashim frowned. ‘What are you doing, Maddy?’

She upended it and held her other hand, palm up, beneath the open neck. The cockroach tumbled out on to her hand and skittered around her palm, leaving a glistening track of threads of slime on her skin. Then it hopped off on to the floor and zig-zagged energetically away to disappear beneath an old wardrobe.

Charley gasped at the sight of the droplets of goo. The others instinctively pulled back a little from Maddy as she stared at the palm of her hand.

‘We haven’t got time to screw around,’ she said. ‘We’re out of drinking water and we’ve still got miles of mountain terrain to cross.’ She looked up at them. ‘We’re going to die here if we stay any longer.’