Silver Page 22

“The noise,” Mark said.

  “There’s nobody to hear,” Johnny replied.

  “Wait,” Paul said. “No sense taking chances.” He slipped off his coat and laid it over the display case. It wasn’t big enough to cover it entirely. “Give me your coats,” he said. “We can muffle the sound.”

  They draped their coats over the glass, and between them they covered it up. Mark and Paul held them in place while Johnny took aim with the bar.

  “Let go when he hits it,” Paul told Mark.

  “That was kind of the plan,” Mark replied, deadpan.

  Johnny swung, and the glass smashed. Paul and Mark jumped back, wary of cutting themselves, but the case was made of tempered glass for safety, so it smashed into small granular chunks instead of sharp shards. Those that weren’t swaddled by the coats scattered across the floor with a hissing sound.

  Paul waited anxiously, listening for sounds of the Infected. All in all, the sound of breaking glass had been as quiet as Paul could have hoped, and unlikely to be heard from more than a few rooms away. But that was still too loud for Paul’s liking.

  Yet still, no Infected came.

  “Let’s do this, huh?” said Johnny. “I hate this place.”

  They pulled their coats off the engine and dropped them to the floor. Paul and Johnny kept an eye on the doorways while Mark unscrewed one of the spark plugs. He pulled it free and held it up to the moonlight, turning it around till he found the markings that indicated what gauge it was.

  He checked it against the one from the chopper. Then he checked it again.

  “Well?” Paul demanded when he could stand it no longer.

  “It’s good,” Mark said with a note of disbelief in his voice. “It’s the right one.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Paul.

  Mark shook his head.

  “You mean we can actually fix the chopper?” Johnny asked.

  A grin broke out on Mark’s face. “I think so,” he said. “You were right, Paul.”

  Johnny whistled softly. “Never thought it’d work,” he said. “Guess we’ve really got a shot now, huh?”

  Paul marveled at the spark plug in Mark’s hand. Yes, they really had a shot. Wild hope had become real hope. And if this part of the plan had worked, was it too much to believe that the rest had worked, too? Didn’t he owe it to Erika to trust that she had done her part and got Carson to the helicopter?

  “Get all the spark plugs out of that thing,” he said urgently. “Get yourselves back to the helicopter.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll catch up with you. I’ve got to look for Adam.”

  “You’re not serious,” said Mark flatly.

  “I sent him down there,” Paul replied. “Into that basement. What if it was you?”

  “If it was me, I’d be infected by now, just like Adam is.”

  “He’s right,” Johnny told Paul. “Getting yourself killed won’t help him.”

  Paul opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Adam’s words came back to him. Sometimes being nice is being stupid. It was just the kind of thing he’d been warned against. Risking his life on some dumb notion of heroism, when there probably wasn’t even any point to it.

  He shook his head. “You’re right. Come on.”

  They stripped out the spark plugs with the socket wrench, taking them all in case they needed spares. When they were done, Johnny and Mark made to hurry off. But Paul was still dragging behind, looking off in the direction of the basement. It didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel right at all.

  “Let’s go!” Johnny said through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna get us all caught and then none of us will get out of here!”

  “Yeah,” said Paul quietly. “Yeah.” And he picked up the pace and followed them.

  Clank-clank-clank!

  Paul stopped and spun toward the noise. The others froze.

  Clank … clank … clank …

  The sounds came slower this time. Paul looked around the room. Nothing moved. The three of them stood tense with their weapons ready, waiting for the inevitable attack.

  Clank-clank-clank!

  Faster again, the same as the first time. This time Paul zeroed in on the source.

  “The pipes,” he said. “It’s coming from the pipes.”

  Set inconspiciously in recesses in the wall were several sturdy iron radiators, painted black. Thick pipes fed them water through the floorboards.

  Clank-clank-clank! Clank … clank … clank … Clank-clank-clank!

  A rhythm. An unmistakable rhythm, made by hitting something against the pipes elsewhere in the building. Paul had heard that prisoners sometimes communicated this way between cells. The pipes carried sound: You could hear it all the way through the cell block.

  Clank-clank-clank! Clank … clank … clank … Clank-clank-clank!

  Three short. Three long. Three short. Morse code.

  SOS.

  “It’s Adam,” said Paul slowly. Then, excited, “It’s Adam! He’s still alive.”

  “It’s a trap!” Mark blurted.

  Johnny raised an eyebrow at Paul, the only one visible behind his hair. “He could be right, y’know. They’re smart enough.”

  Paul thought about that. There was no doubting that they could be right. But he couldn’t be sure, either.

  “Go on,” he said to them. “Get to the chopper and fix the engine. I’ll catch up.”

  “Tell me you’re not actually going down there,” said Mark, aghast.

  “Got to,” said Paul.

  “It’s Adam!” Mark said. “What do you owe Adam? He’s a stupid, violent bully and he’s not worth it!”

  Paul was surprised by the anger in Mark’s response. “You’d rather leave him there?” he asked.

  “Yes! Rather him than you!” he said. “Look, look, I figured it out. The tunnels! Remember the tunnels? That’s why the Infected disappeared off the campus. They’ve been down there in the tunnels, traveling between the buildings, up to who knows what. And where do all the tunnels lead to? The basement! They’re not up here because they’re down there!”

  “Why else would Adam need help, if not something to do with the Infected?” Johnny added.

  “He’s not even down there! Or if he is, he’s not Adam anymore! They’re luring you!” Mark cried.

  “Either way.” Johnny shrugged. “Infected in the basement.”

  It was tempting, so tempting to just turn away then. They had what they needed to escape. There were almost certainly going to be Infected in the basement, and there was a very good possibility that Adam wasn’t there at all, or was past saving. And what did he owe that kid, anyway? Adam had been the closest thing he had to an enemy at Mortingham. Paul had despised him for exactly the same reasons Mark did.

  But that was then, and this was now, and they only had each other to rely on. If Paul let him down, what kind of leader would he be? What kind of ally? What kind of friend?

  Sometimes being nice is being stupid. Well, then, he’d be stupid. Because if the new world started here, it wouldn’t start like this.

  “No one gets left behind,” he said. “Get going. I’ll see you on the roof of the sports hall.”

  Before they could argue further, he left, his footsteps tapping away along the polished floor. Heading for the basement, and whatever waited there.

  We’re going to make it, thought Erika. We’re going to make it. We will.

  She kept saying it to herself, over and over, pounding it into her mind. She needed to believe. She felt like every last drop of courage had been used up, and there was nothing more in her. It was only by constant reassurance that she could continue putting one foot in front of the other.

  They’d escaped the science block. They’d slipped through the horde, across open ground, and they’d made it to the sports hall. All it would have taken was for one Infected to spot them, and it would have been over. But they’d rolled the dice and won.

  But all those kids, left
behind. All those kids.

  You couldn’t save them, she told herself. But you saved one man. And he might be able to save whoever’s left.

  But who was left? Paul, Mark, Adam, and Johnny — where were they now? Had they suffered the same fate as the kids in the science block? Did it even matter if she got Carson to the helicopter, when nobody else might be coming?

  Yes, it mattered. Because Erika would have done her part. All her life, she’d fought hard to live up to other people’s expectations. Now, when nobody expected much of her at all, she fought even harder. The only expectations were her own, and she wasn’t going to let herself down.

  We’re going to make it, she thought as she pushed open the door to the swim hall.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The swim hall was painted silver. A row of huge windows, high up on the east wall, let in the moonlight from outside. The swimming pool was on their left, water lapping gently against the sides. To their right were bleachers for spectators. Hollow echoes chased around the room, bouncing off the tiles.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  She put away the lighter in her hand and let her eyes adjust to the moonlight. In contrast to the terrifyingly dark corridors that led them here, the swim hall was a relief. Neither of them had flashlights, so they’d been forced to use the cigarette lighter to navigate until now. But Erika had learned to fear open spaces, and the swim hall was uncomfortably open. If there was something in here, it could come at them from any direction.

  But there’s nothing in here, she told herself.

  “Are we going?” Carson murmured. He was carrying a fire extinguisher in one hand, which he’d liberated from a wall bracket to serve as a weapon. His other arm was slung over Erika’s shoulders. The weight of him was tiring, but she could bear it. She was stronger than she looked.

  All that netball was good for something, I suppose.

  They moved out into the swim hall, following the route that led between the benches and the pool, heading for the door on the far side. Erika’s gaze roamed restlessly, searching for danger. She wanted to run, to sprint across this awful empty space and get back to the confining safety of the corridors. But Carson couldn’t run, so she couldn’t, either.

  Step by steady step they went, dreading to hear the sound of something moving, creeping up behind them, the screech of an Infected just before it attacked.

  There’s nothing here, she told herself. There’s nothing here.

  But there was.

  It was the water that warned her. A splash too loud to put down to the stirring of the pool. Something had broken the surface.

  At the far end, at the near corner, there was a face above the water. Blue eyes shining.

  Erika came to a halt with a lurch. The creature was between them and the exit. The urge to flee was overwhelming. But if she did, she’d be leaving Carson to his fate, and she hadn’t brought him this far to abandon him now.

  She’d thought she was out of courage, but it turned out she wasn’t quite yet.

  It slunk out of the water, never taking its eyes from them. This one looked as if it had started out as an adult, one of the female staff, although beyond that it was impossible to tell who. Locked inside the sports hall alone, it had evolved, altering itself to its environment: the swimming pool. Its hands were clawed and webbed, splayed into spiked fans of silver. A thin dorsal ridge ran from its neck down its back, and when it climbed onto the poolside it dragged a tail after it, tipped with a rudderlike fin for steering.

  It stood there dripping like some drowned ghoul in the moonlight, and it never took its eyes from them.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  “Back away,” Erika whispered. “I’ve got a flash bomb. Once it’s stunned, hit it with the fire extinguisher.”

  Carson gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. The Infected watched them, crouched low, its tail flipping restlessly on the wet tiles. Erika reached into her satchel and drew out her last flash bomb and the cigarette lighter.

  Carefully, moving slowly so as not to alarm the creature, she rolled her thumb over the flint wheel to spark a flame.

  Snik!

  As if that were the trigger, the creature burst forward with a scream, racing toward them on all fours, moving in great loping bounds. Erika panicked, working the flint wheel frantically.

  Snik! Snik!

  A flame appeared at last, but too late. The creature jumped at her, and Carson pulled her out of the way, down and to the side. The flash bomb and lighter spilled from her hands as she fell in a heap on top of the pilot.

  The Infected’s leap took it past Erika, but it landed with inhuman agility, already set to spring back at them. They scrambled to untangle themselves, but in their struggles they tangled again. They were defenseless, helpless to avoid the next attack.

  Erika shut her eyes as the creature bunched to spring.

  A shriek. A crash of metal on metal. Water splattered her cheek.

  She opened her eyes again, and the creature was gone.

  They got up, breathless with disbelief. The swimming pool was churning. Shapes thrashed within it, hidden by dark waves and spray. There were things fighting in the water. Mechanical screams echoed around the swim hall.

  Then there was a loud crack, and all at once the thrashing stopped.

  Erika and Carson stared at the swimming pool, which was still swilling back and forth in the aftermath of the conflict. Floating on the surface, facedown, was the Infected that had attacked them. As they watched, it sank beneath the surface, and was lost to sight. There was no sign of whatever had killed it.

  “Come on,” Erika whispered, recovering her wits. “We have to go.”

  The flash bomb had skidded near to the edge of the pool when she dropped it. She didn’t dare retrieve it. Instead, she snatched up the lighter that had fallen by her feet. Carson threw his arm over her shoulder, and she propelled him as fast as she was able toward the door at the far end of the swim hall.

  They’d barely gone three steps before the water blasted up in a geyser of spray, and a shadowy figure leaped out, landing directly in their path.

  It was an Infected, there was no doubt of that. But this one was different from the others. It was … incomplete, somehow. One blue eye glared through the long hair that hung in sodden strings across its face, but the other was not blue. It was a human eye, mottled with silver but still human. One of its arms was metal, disproportionately long, fingers tapered to grotesque points. The other was that of a girl, though partly covered with plates and mesh.

  Its face had distorted from the original, but its features hadn’t been entirely wiped away. Erika knew the ridge of that brow. She knew that sharp nose. She knew that eye.

  “Caitlyn?” she managed, through a throat closing up with tears.

  The creature’s good eye flicked to her and fixed there. It stood hunched, curled in on itself, twisted by the change being wreaked on it.

  “Caitlyn?” she whispered again. “Caitlyn, it’s you. You saved us.”

  It stood there for long seconds, regarding her. Then it drew in air. When it spoke, it was like the tortured mechanical wheeze of an old synthesizer.

  SAVE … YOU? it said. It seemed to think about that for a moment. Then its lip curled into a snarl and its eyes narrowed hatefully.

  KILL YOU!

  Rage.

  Caitlyn had never felt anything like it. Wild, primal, overwhelming. It filled her veins with bubbling fire, swept away grief and regret. Some faint part of her knew that this rage was not hers, that it was given to her by the microscopic invaders that were slowly transforming her into something else. But that part was drowned out in the deafening roar of pure, undiluted fury that rang through all the chambers of her mind.

  And all of it was focused on Erika.

  enemyenemyenemy

  After Caitlyn had jumped from the window of the staff room, she’d headed for a nearby dorm hall. Even before she set off, she’d known it was deserted. She sensed it. Whispers in her s
ubconscious, the wordless knowledge of the network, transmitted through the tendrils of silver that were working their way into her brain.

  She’d still been human enough to be terrified of the Infected at that time. But several of them spotted her, and they paid her no mind. That was when she knew. She was one of them now.

  She’d holed up in a dorm room and cried to herself for a while, but it hadn’t done any good. The infection continued its insidious crawl through her body. Mark had tried to destroy the strange machinery that was taking her over, but he’d only damaged it. Instead of changing her in minutes, it took hours.

  At some point she stopped being scared. It was as if someone had reached into her mind and turned a dial down. Her fear simply faded out, and the tears dried in the one eye that was still capable of producing them.

  They did that. They stopped me from being afraid, she thought, and she was almost grateful.

  She’d known the Infected assault was coming, in the same way she’d known the dorm hall was empty. She considered warning the lookouts, but in the end did nothing. By then one arm had turned to metal, and the numbness was being replaced by something else: new nerves coming online, giving her control. While the Infected were pouring into the science block, she sat there in the window, half her face silver, and stared, fascinated, at her new hand as she flexed and unflexed her fingers.

  She was aware of the distress of the other Infected, the ache of loss as so many of their brethren were exterminated by the jets. But she was only loosely connected to their network, so she herself felt only a vague unease, not enough to bother her. She was still at her window when two figures slipped out of the bushes behind the science block and headed for the sports hall.

  Caitlyn’s mismatched vision made it difficult to see well, as the signal from her mechanical eye fought to marry up with her human sight. But she looked closer, and she saw, and her thoughts turned black and smoldered.

  Erika, alive. It had to be Erika. She was just that kind of girl. Born lucky, born smart and talented and oh-so-beautiful. Why did she get to survive? Of all people, why her? Everything was so easy for that girl. It was like the whole world bent to accommodate her, as if life itself bowed down to lay its cape in her path. She always won, she always came out on top. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!