Ward Z: Revelation (11 page)

“I...” She paused, keeping her unflinching gaze firmly fixed on him. “I came to the lake. This...” Another pause. “This kingdom has more than one throne.”

Todd raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Hey,” Beth added after a moment.

“Hey,” he replied. “Are you okay?”

“You'd think we could have en suite bathrooms, right?”

“Um...” He smiled. “Well, yeah, that'd be nice, but I guess this is what you get when you head out into the great unknown. So did you come all the way down here just to take a leak? That's kind of a long trek.”

“What's your poison?” Beth asked.

“My poison?” He frowned. “Well, right now I'd settle for getting back to the cabin and jumping under a warm duvet.” He turned to look out at the lake again. “I can't go without Kirsty, though. I need to know she's okay. I mean, she's probably doing this specifically to screw me over, but still, it wouldn't be right to just walk away.” He took another drag on his cigarette.

“We definitely don't want any company tonight, okay?” Beth replied. “The last thing we want is someone coming down and catching us holding hands.”

“Are you...” Unable to stifle a faint smile, Todd stared at her for a moment. “Are you hitting on me?”

“I'll pay you back later,” she told him.

“What the hell?” Pausing for a moment, he took one more look at the lake, before turning back to Beth and glancing down at the front of her t-shirt for a moment, checking her out. “You're Beth, right?” he continued. “So tell me something, Beth. If you went swimming with a guy in the middle of the night, would
you
fuck off and leave him all alone?”

“There's a limit to my powers,” Beth replied, “even though I'm a goddamn wizard with blush.”

“I don't get you,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. “I like you, though. You're cool and kinda weird.”

“I promise I'll do my best,” she told him.

“Well,” he replied, stepping closer, “I guess that's the most a guy can ask for, isn't it?” Leaning toward her, he tried to initiate a kiss, but her lips didn't move, not even as his brushed against her face. He kept going, slipping his tongue out, but she didn't open her mouth at all and he ended up just licking her bottom lip for a moment. “I need a little cooperation here,” he whispered finally, reaching up and using his fingers to gently part her lips. “You're gonna get more into this once we get started, aren't you?” he continued. “I mean, no-one likes to go with someone who just kinda stays still.”

With that, he put his lips against hers and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Waiting to feel something in return, he pulled her closer and tried to bring a little passion, but after a few seconds he felt as if she was simply standing and letting him do whatever he wanted, and his tongue was unable to get past her teeth. After trying a little longer to get her engaged, he began to pull back.

Suddenly he felt something long and thin slipping out of her mouth and flicking the back of his throat, and then slipping out again.

“Woah!” he said, pulling back. “What the hell was that?”

He waited for a reply, but she simply stared at him.

“Huh,” he continued. “That's one hell of a...” He paused, staring at her cautiously for a moment. “You got any other special skills a guy might enjoy? With a tongue like that, I can think of a few ideas.”

Pulling her closer, he kissed her again, and this time he found that her teeth had parted to let him further into her mouth. He began to kiss her more passionately, hoping to get her going a little, and finally he felt something flicking the end of his tongue. Figuring that he was starting to get somewhere, he put his hands around her waist and let the kiss linger, until suddenly he felt something long and thin flicking into his mouth and then wrapping itself around the base of his tongue and pulling him closer until his face was tight against hers. He tried to cry out, but another tendril slipped into his mouth and began to wriggle down his throat, while a third emerged from her nose and slithered up her nostril. Again he tried to call for help, but he could already feel more tendrils slipping out from under her shirt and pushing their way into his chest, burrowing into the skin until he began to feel weak.

As his legs buckled, he started to drop down, but he found himself being held up by the tendrils that were running out of Beth's mouth and into his. He tried to push her away, but a strange, heavy numbness was spreading through his body and he could feel the curled tip of one of the tendrils slipping down his throat until it began to explore his stomach. Seconds later, he felt the tip digging through his meat until it wrapped itself around his spine, while another tendril made its way up through his body, burrowing into the roof of his mouth and then slipping itself into his brain. A moment later, his cranial fluid began to leak out as Beth began to suck him dry.

All around them, intense rain continued to pound down.

***

“Todd!” Kirsty screamed at the top of her voice. “Todd! This isn't funny!”

Making her way along the shore of the lake, she kept glancing over her shoulder, hoping to see something – anything – that might give her a clue. Lost and disorientated, she had no idea how far she was from the point where she'd left her clothes, but she figured that so long as she stuck to the edge of the water, eventually she'd get back to where she'd started. Still, she couldn't help the sense of panic that was building in her gut, and as freezing cold rain continued to fall, she was starting to shiver.

“Todd!” she yelled again. “I'm gonna get fucking hypothermia! For the love of God, can't you -”

Spotting something up ahead in the darkness, she began to run. Finding herself at the entrance to the wooden pier that she remembered from earlier, she began to feel a huge sense of relief, until she looked around and realized that everything seemed different. With a sinking feeling, she realized that there must be several such piers all around the lake. Stepping onto the wooden boards, she made her way to the far end, where a plastic sign showed a very basic map.

Barely able to see anything in the darkness, she squinted at the map, and after a moment she was able to make out the shape of the lake and a dot indicating her current position. She struggled to read the rest of the text, but finally she spotted Camp Everbee and she realized with relief that although she was a fair distance from the main site, she could have ended up much further out. Based on the legend at the bottom of the board, she figured she was about three miles from the spot where she'd last seen Todd. All she had to do was keep going and she'd be fine.

Shivering, she didn't notice at first as something wet and slimy reached up from the water and began to wrap itself around her freezing foot. The tendril slithered across her skin, making its way around her ankle.

“What the -”

Looking down, she was just about able to make out a thin black cord that seemed to be trying to take hold of her right leg. To her horror, she realized that the tendril's tip was trembling slightly.

“Jesus Christ!” she shouted, trying to pull free but finding that the tendril had a firm grip on her leg. “Ew, what the hell
are
you? You're -”

Before she could finish, the tendril suddenly gave her a strong tug, pulling her off her feet and almost dragging her over the side of the pier before she grabbed a wooden post.

“Todd!” she called out. “Help!”

She twisted and tried to get loose, but the tendril was pulling harder and harder, as if it was determined to get her into the water. Holding onto the post for dear life, Kirsty let out a loud gasp as she tried to use her free foot to push the tendril loose, only to find that its grip was getting stronger.

“Goddamn -”

A moment later, another tendril rose up and tried to grab her other ankle, but she pulled away just in time.

“Todd!” she yelled, with torrential rain pouring down on her as she struggled to get her right leg loose. “Get this thing off me!”

She let out a gasp of pain as she felt the tendril's edge digging into her flesh, and as she tried yet again to get free, she heard a ripping sound, as if her flesh was being torn. Finally she began to cry out as the pain around her ankle became unbearable, building and building until she felt that her entire leg was about to be ripped away.

“Help!” she shouted.

Suddenly the tendril seemed to let go and splash back down into the water.

Falling back, she tried to get up and run, but an agonizing pain erupted from her foot and she was forced to hop along the pier until she reached the muddy shore. Making her way toward the treeline, she finally fell and let out a scream as she felt her damaged foot hit the mud. With rain still pouring down, she rolled onto her back and looked down at her ankle, just as the clouds parted for a few seconds to let a moment of moonlight shine through.

To her horror, she saw that the skin of her right foot had been completely torn off, leaving nothing behind but a meaty stump with five boney toes poking out.

And that's when she began to scream.

Chapter Sixteen

“Do me a favor,” Marlowe muttered as he struggled through the undergrowth, with a large backpack on his shoulder. “I'll make it up to you, Dean. The usual way, Dean. Just do this one thing for me, Dean.”

Stopping for a moment, he shone his torch through the rain and saw the yellow medical waste sacks nearby. Someone had put them under a tarpaulin, so he immediately got to work pulling out all the hooks before finally dragging the covering away. Heavy rain fell down onto the sacks, collecting in small puddles where the fabric was rippled.

“It won't take long, Dean,” he continued with a sigh. “You're my go-to guy, Dean. What would I do without you? Fucking...”

Hearing his phone ringing, Marlowe pulled it out and accepted the call.

“Are you there yet?” Crystal barked.

“Just about to get started,” he told her, raising his voice so he could be heard above the rain.

“I know the weather's awful,” she replied, “but you have to work fast. Get all those sacks down to the lake and put them with the rest. I can't take the chance that some idiot at Environmental Services might actually take Freeman seriously and start poking their nose around. You know what they're like. They spend all their time doing bugger all, and then every so often they swing into action so they can try to justify their salaries.”

“And there's nothing in here that's gonna damage the lake, is there?” he asked, pulling open the edge of one of the sacks and shining his torch inside. All he could see were small transparent bags of medical waste, but he was still worried.

“Since when did you become an eco-warrior?” she asked.

“It's not that, I just don't want to get mixed up in anything that might come back at me.”

“Would I tell you to dump them if they were going to pollute the water?” Crystal asked. “Please don't try to second-guess everything I ask you to do, just get on with it and then come to my office for your usual reward. Remember, Dean, you're my go-to guy for things like this. You're far more reliable than Chris fucking Freeman.”

“This is gonna take a while,” he muttered, still peering into the sack.

“So will your reward,” she replied, before cutting the call.

Sighing, he was about to turn away from the sack when he spotted something moving beneath some of the transparent bags. Holding the torch closer, he watched as several thin black tendrils seemed to twist and move through the medical waste, as if something was alive down there. Leaning closer, he pulled one of the bags aside to get a better look, but the tendrils slipped out of sight, as if they realized they were being watched.

“What the hell?” he whispered, leaning closer.

Slowly, one of the tendrils lifted up from beneath the bags and reached out toward him. Shining the torch straight down into the bag, Marlowe watched as the tendril's sharp tip seemed to quiver in the rain-filled air; after a moment, the tip curled slightly before straightening out again.

“What are you?” Marlowe asked, unable to stop staring at the bizarre sight. “What in -”

Before he could finish, a much larger tendril snapped out and wrapped itself around his neck, pulling him down into the sack as several smaller tendrils wrapped themselves around his shoulders and dragged him further into the pile of waste. His cries could be heard for a moment, even over the rain, and the large yellow sack jolted a couple of times before falling still. A moment later, blood began to leak through a small tear in the side of the fabric, running down into the mud.

***

As he climbed out of his truck in the parking lot, Freeman started rooting through his pockets for his keys. By the time he got to his front door, he was able to open the door quickly and step inside, finally getting out of the rain. Flicking on the hall light, he pushed the door shut and then turned to look at himself in the mirror.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed. “I look like a drowned rat.”

Feeling a pain in his lower back, he winced for a moment.

“Getting old, too,” he muttered.

Heading through to the bathroom, he peeled off his wet clothes and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, before making his way to the kitchen and putting the kettle on to boil. He paused for a moment, running through the events of the past twenty-four hours and trying to clear his head. Checking his watch, he saw that it was now almost 2am, which meant that the drive down from Camp Everbee had taken the best part of two hours. There had been several moments when he thought the road was going to give way entirely, and he'd been forced to drive at a snail's pace, but at least he'd made it. The road would be impassable the next day, but at least it was someone else's problem. He was done with Camp Everbee.

Feeling a blast of wind, he looked through to the front room and saw to his surprise that the back door was open.

He immediately tensed, certain that he'd locked up properly before he left.

“You wouldn't,” he whispered, trying to tell himself that no matter how bad she seemed, there was no way Crystal would have arranged to have his apartment broken into. Besides, he'd followed the road all the way down, and no vehicles had passed him. There was simply no other way to get down off the mountain.

Grabbing a knife from the kitchen drawer, he made his way over to the doorway and looked into the dark front room, half expecting to find that someone had trashed the place.

“Hello?” he called out. “If there's anyone in here and you think you can take me, you've got another thing coming. I've had military training and I know three martial arts so -”

Stopping suddenly, he saw a figure sitting in the far corner, in one of the armchairs. Hitting the light switch, he was surprised but relieved to see that his sister Karen was in the room.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked with a sigh, hurrying over to the back door and sliding it shut. “It's freezing in here, are you trying to get pneumonia?”

Turning to her, he saw that she was soaking wet and covered in mud, with several small cuts on her face. On top of that, she was staring at him intently, with wide-open eyes that seemed very different to her usual countenance. For someone who was usually talkative and excitable, she was curiously still.

“You okay?” he asked, setting the knife down and making his way over to her. “Karen, did something happen?”

“I...” She paused for a moment, before blinking a couple of times. “My car went off the road.”

“Jesus,” he continued, kneeling next to her and taking a look at the cuts on her face. “What the hell were you doing out in this weather?”

“I was coming to find you.”

“I got your messages,” he replied as he examined the largest cut, which ran down past her eye and onto her cheek. “These don't seem very deep,” he continued, “you're lucky. Still, we need to get you checked out by a doctor first thing in the morning. Where did you say your car went off, again?”

“I don't remember,” she told him with a frown. “Not too far away. On a bend. I'm not sure, it's all kind of blurry.”

“You didn't hit your head, did you?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair to check for bumps. “Did you black out at all? If you've got a concussion -”

“I didn't hit my head,” she replied, staring at him for a moment before blinking again and then, finally, starting to smile. “Sorry, Chris, I didn't mean to worry you, I just... I couldn't get the car started, but I was pretty close so I just walked the rest of the way. I had a key to the back door so I let myself in. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go, and then I was tired and I figured I'd just wait for you. I hope you don't mind.”

“Course not,” he told her. “Just don't scare me like that again, okay?” He waited for a reply, but her eyes seemed strangely vacant. “Karen?” he continued. “Can you hear me?”

She nodded.

“Didn't you hear the radio? They're telling people not to drive.”

“I came to tell you about the squirrel,” she continued, “and about the stuff I discovered about Leadenford Hospital. I think we're really onto something here.” She paused again, before frowning as if her moment of vagueness was finally passing. “The official story is that terrorists seized the hospital and then blew it up,” she told him, sounding more animated than before, “but there are stories online that suggest it was something very different. It all seems to have been focused on a cancer ward run by a man named Doctor Andrew Page. The place was nicknamed Ward C, because of Doctor Page's work with unusual types of cancer. I pulled some of his research papers, and his theories were -”

She stopped suddenly.

“His theories were what?” Freeman asked after a moment.

“They were...” Pausing, she reached around and rubbed the back of her neck, where a small cut ran down past her shirt collar. “He was ridiculed,” she continued finally, seemingly back to normal. “In one paper, he presented evidence to suggest that certain types of cancer might actually be sentient, that they should be classified as parasitic creatures that emerge from within the body and challenge the brain for control. He believed that they'd developed an ability to patch themselves into their hosts' nervous systems.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” Freeman pointed out.

“He had data,” she continued. “Lots and lots of data, but none of his evidence was accepted by his peers. The ridicule basically cost him his career, which is why he ended up working on a hospital ward. The crazy thing is, according to some online forums, the incident at Leadenford Hospital wasn't anything to do with terrorists. Some people claim to have seen a major military presence there, and there are even stories that it wasn't a bomb that destroyed the building. It was missiles, fired by the military themselves. There was something in that hospital that they wanted to destroy.”

“Careful,” Freeman replied. “Talking like that, you're starting to sound like me.”

“I think the black masses in that squirrel, and in some of the other animals you've found, might be linked to whatever happened at Leadenford. They match Doctor Page's descriptions.”

Freeman paused for a moment, staring into her eyes.

“Leadenford,” he said finally. “That name was on the side of some medical waste bags I found today.”

“Where?”

“Up at Camp Everbee. Turns out, Crystal Wallace has been taking back-handers to dump stuff at the site without a permit.”

“What's in the bags?” she asked.

“Waste from the hospital. I didn't get a chance to look properly, but I don't think even she knows for sure.”

“This can't be a coincidence.”

“No,” he replied, “it can't. Also, tonight I saw the freakiest thing. There was a deer, all damaged and hurt, but it was stumbling about and I think it had one of those same creatures inside it, except it was bigger and it was aggressive. It took several shots to bring the thing down, and even then it still had some fight left in it. The parasite survived even after the deer itself was long-gone, like some kind of -”

Stopping, he heard the kettle finish boiling.

“We need to get onto this fast,” he continued, standing and heading back to the kitchen. “Get out of those wet clothes, take some of mine from the bathroom. We need to call Environmental Services and get them on the case. There are twenty-odd kids up there at the camp, they might be in danger.”

“I hope we're wrong,” Karen replied, getting to her feet and making her way to the bathroom. “I really,
really
hope this is all just some kind of fever dream.”

Once she was in the bathroom, she locked the door and then began to undress. After throwing her wet clothes into the washing machine, she grabbed a towel and began to dry herself; once she was done, she wandered over to the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror for a moment. As she stared into her own eyes, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, that her mind was a little foggy and that something else was staring back at her. She tried to remember the accident, but she couldn't think of anything between leaving her surgery and waking up in the wreck. Still, she was convinced that she'd forgotten something, that there had been -

Letting out a sudden gasp of pain, she felt something slicing up her back, as if it was slithering around her spine. She gripped the sink to keep from falling, but the sensation continued: something was moving inside her body, wrapping its tendrils between her bones. As a sense of deep nausea began to grow in her belly, she felt something sharp moving through her rib-cage, and a moment later she realized a tendril was slithering around her pounding heart.

“Chris...” she whispered, barely able to speak at all. “Help... I need...”

The tendril's sharp tip poked at her heart, threatening to break through, before moving along.

Gasping again, she realized she could feel several tendrils moving all through her body, wrapping themselves around her bones and organs as they slithered into every gap. She tried one more time to call out to her brother, but something was moving through her neck and poking at her vocal chords, and finally she realized she could barely even remember her name. She tried to focus, to repeat her name over and over in her mind, but something seemed to be pushing her thoughts aside until, finally, she found herself turning away from the mirror and taking a couple of faltering steps toward the door, even though she had no such intention.