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“Put it right. Call in the Health Protection Agency, The Centre for Infections. The HPA can start screening people.” “Then what, Sam? Put them back in camps?” “Camps?” Carson asked, taken aback. “Fuck no. You know me better than that, Mall.” The comment felt like a slap in the face. “Look, I don’t have all the answers, but we have to do something. We have to warn people about what’s happening. We have to — ” “I don’t think so.” “Mall, we have to do something.” “It’s too late, Sam.” “How can it be too – ” Carson stopped and looked at the screen of his mobile. “Oh no, Mall?” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “When?” “Goodbye Samuel,” Mallory Grafton said and cut the connection. Carson’s heart sank. He had blown it again. “No way,” he said. He would bypass PWN. There were other news agencies out there. Right now he was the only one who knew what was going on. People needed to know what was happening. The infection had to be stopped before it really was too — Carson sat up in panic. They knew where he was. Shutting down his Tablet, he pocketed it and his mobile, stood up and grabbed his pod card. “Shit,” he said as another thought derailed him. The pod was a rental. It had been hired on his PWN account and so could be traced. He would have to ditch it. He’d hire another using his own funds once he felt it was safe. But first he had to get out of here. He snatched up his suitcase, threw in his clothes from the wardrobe and dresser and left, pulling the door shut behind him. He jogged down the stairs. With luck he would be gone before they missed him. As soon as Carson stepped through the front door of the hotel he saw the three surfers from the café walking towards him. Each strode with a determination and single-mindedness that made their intent obvious. Carson didn’t wait for them to reach him. He ran. He swung around the hotel and sprinted for his pod. Six vehicles were parked at the rear of the hotel and Helena MacDonald waited at the driver’s door of Carson’s pod, arms folded. “Mr. Carson, wherever are you going in such a hurry?” she said and smiled. Carson faltered, but he refused to stop. “Move,” he growled, as he stalked across the gravel, undeterred. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Helena said. The pods opened and three or four people stepped out from each. They ranged around the pod park forming a semicircular perimeter. The only path left for Carson was back the way he’d come, but, as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the three surfers moving up to close the gap. “I think it’s time for you to join the revolution,” Helena MacDonald said, stepping away from his pod and gesturing at the silent people around them. “You’re missing out, Sam. You’ve been such a help to us; it doesn’t seem fair to keep you from fulfilling your destiny. After all, now you have it all figured out, you’ve served your purpose.” “Why are you doing this?” “Because it’s necessary for our survival.” Carson stepped forward. “I believed everything you told me.” Helena shrugged. “What can I say: you were perfect. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Another step. Carson dropped his case. “What happens now?” “You’ll begin your climb up evolution’s spiral path towards perfection.” “Do I get a choice?” he asked, taking another step forward. No more than an arms length separated them now. “Why would you want one?” “I’d like to think I had options,” he said. Helena cocked her head as if confused. “Freewill?” she said. “Evolution is a force of nature. What will be, will be; if you fight it you become extinct.” “I thought everyone had a choice.” “They do. Evolve or die.” Carson took another step. “Will it hurt?” he asked. Helena smiled. “For a little while.” Carson looked down at his feet. Hidden in his hand was the activation card for the pod. He looked up and half turned, glancing back over his shoulder at what he was about to leave behind, or at least that was what he hoped it looked like, then he whipped around and punched Helena in the jaw with everything he had.
The punch lifted her off her feet. |