It's Only the End of the World Read online

  Victor followed Mrs Magdalene down a long corridor.

  “Capturing Charlie Ray and that girl, whoever she is, has become Manticorps’ highest priority,” the vice president said. “They’re our only hope for retrieving Frankie and the Atlas Serum and putting our projects back on track.”

  She opened the door to the briefing room. Two men and one woman sat round the table, looking expectantly at them.

  “This is your new team,” the vice president said. “I’ll let them introduce themselves.”

  “Markus Gantz.” A young man with a crew cut, glasses and a T-shirt with ‘FREE HUGS’ written on it stood up and extended his hand. “I am pleased to meet you.”

  “I’m not.” Victor didn’t move. “Just tell me what you do.”

  “I am a hacker. Nobody knows computer systems better than I.”

  “Frankie does,” Victor countered. “I’ve read the files and, apparently, part of him is a computer. You only sound like one.”

  “And you sound like a very negative guy.” Markus sat back down. “I do not think we will be friends.”

  “No free hug, then? My heart bleeds.”

  Victor nodded to the woman. She was stunningly beautiful, with an innocent face and wide cobalt-blue eyes.

  “What about you, blondie? In charge of make-up?”

  “Candy-Anne.” She studied her pointed nails. “I… retire people.”

  “That so?” Victor tensed.

  “Make another sexist comment and I’ll demonstrate.” She fluttered her eyelids. “I’m a lot more than an extremely pretty face.”

  Victor turned to the last member. He was almost as large as the leader, with long, jet-black hair tucked under a baseball cap. Round his hand was a length of chain.

  “You are?”

  “Hill Rylander,” the man replied laconically. “I’m a tracker. Old-school. If Markus can identify a rough location where the kids are holed up, I’ll do the rest.”

  “How?” Victor was unimpressed. “You going to sniff the ground? Follow a trail of broken leaves?”

  “Not me, chief.” Hill pulled on the chain and a large white shape emerged from under the table. “Meet Willie.”

  Victor repressed a shudder. The huge dog was white and hairless, with malevolent pink eyes and jaws that looked like they could take a chunk out of solid metal. It glared at him and gave a throaty growl.

  “Jeez.” He quickly regained his composure. “Bit of an ugly brute.”

  “You don’t want to antagonise Willie.” Hill covered the dog’s pointy ears. “He’s very sensitive.”

  “I was talking about you.”

  “Willie was a normal pooch at one time,” Mrs Magdalene said. “Until we tested our version of the Atlas Serum on him.”

  “I can see why you’re so keen to have the perfected formula back.” Victor regarded the mutant hound with distaste. “The old batch has a few nasty side effects.”

  “It does,” the vice president accepted. “But now Willie has a nose that can pick out an individual in a crowded football stadium.”

  “Find out where the fugitives might be and let him get the scent.” Hill patted the slavering beast. “He’ll track them to the ends of the earth.”

  “As long as you three follow him, I’ll be satisfied,” Victor said sourly.

  “I thought we were chasing kids, Mrs M,” Candy-Anne said softly. “Not being led by one.”

  “Victor was quite attached to his old squad,” the vice president explained, “but his bark is worse than his bite.”

  “Quite the opposite of Willie, then,” Hill remarked. “I know which one I prefer.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Mrs Magdalene turned to go. “Stop moping and play nice, Victor.”

  “That dog will tear the kids apart,” the giant said. “I assumed you wanted them in one piece.”

  “Charlie’s blood is all we require to extract the perfected serum,” Mrs Magdalene shot back. “And I imagine Frankie is on a USB or hard drive in the girl’s possession. I simply want that returned.”

  “Yes. It is Frankie we really want to get hold of.” Markus took off his glasses and wiped them. “If this artificial intelligence is as good as you claim, it will be able to replicate all Manticorps’ lost research. I will extract that information from him. Never fear.”

  “So we don’t need the kids alive.” The vice president shrugged. “If they resist, you can kill them.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Candy-Anne said impishly. “Or else I’d have nothing fun to do.”

  Part 3

  The Breakout

  I keep my valuable things locked up. Everyone does.

  Therefore, prisoners must be valuable.

  – Jarod Kintz

  20

  At five o’clock, Daffodil was led into the waiting room of Sunnyside prison, carrying a bunch of flowers. Once again she handed the receptionist her fake ID and permission slips. “I’m here to visit my dad,” she said. “Scotty Primo.”

  “You didn’t get our phone message?” The woman behind the desk looked distressed. “He’s in the prison infirmary.”

  “The infirmary?” Daffodil feigned surprise. “Is he all right?”

  “He has a temperature and a rash,” the receptionist said. “So, I’m afraid you can’t see him. Visits can only be conducted in the communal area.”

  “But I’m going back to Africa with my mother tomorrow. She works in a hospital there. It’s my last chance.”

  “Those are the rules, I’m afraid.”

  “I brought him roses.” Daffodil’s lip quivered.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  The girl burst into tears. “I came all the way from Aberdeen by myself on the train,” she sobbed. “If I go back now, nobody will come to meet me for hours.”

  “There’s nothing I can do, petal,” the woman replied wretchedly. “It’s protocol.”

  “But I wanted to say goodbye,” Daffodil wailed, laying it on as thick as she dared. “I never told him I loved him and now he’s sick.”

  Two guards turned from their conversation and walked over.

  “It’s all right, Muriel.” The older guard laid a hand on the receptionist’s arm. “Once the girl’s been scanned and searched, I’ll get Jake here to escort her.”

  His companion nodded assent.

  “Primo’s a model prisoner and this kid can’t be more than fourteen. It’s not like she has a crowbar in those flowers.” He patted Daffodil’s head. “Though you will have to leave the bouquet behind. Just in case.”

  “The White Spider is in the infirmary too, sir,” Muriel hissed. “He’s not a model prisoner.”

  “That creep is in another room under heavy restraint,” the older guard replied calmly. “I can authorise it if you call the warden and let him know. He’s got a daughter about the same age. He’ll understand.”

  “On you go then, love.” Muriel stamped Daffodil’s papers. “I suppose I’m being a worry wart.”

  “C’mon, kid.” The junior guard beckoned to her. “Let’s get you to your father.”

  They walked down the corridors together, the girl making a mental note of where everything was. While Jake’s back was turned, she held her breath until her face was red.

  “You alright?” He glanced round. “You’re all sweating and flushed.”

  “I don’t feel too good,” Daffodil slowly exhaled, throwing in a dramatic shiver for effect. “I hope I didn’t make my dad ill. I visited him a couple of days ago.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” All the same, the guard quickened his step, putting a few feet between himself and his escort. “Just don’t sneeze on me. I got holidays coming up.”

  *

  The phone rang in Warden Bishop’s office.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s the Health Protection Agency in Collindale.” The warden’s secretary sounded alarmed. “They need to speak to you urgently.”

  “Put them through.”

  In the
van, parked three miles away, Charlie was ready and waiting, mobile in hand.

  “This is Douglas Livingstone from the HPA,” he said in a deep baritone voice that he’d copied from the star of a medical drama on TV. “I understand you have a nurse working for you called Samantha McLaren.”

  “We do,” the warden replied. “She’s off sick.”

  “I’ll make this brief. We’ve just been at her house and suspect she has a virulent form of the James River Fever. It’s highly contagious and we can’t work out how she got it. It’s usually confined to remote regions of central Africa.”

  The warden thought for a few moments. Then he paled. “There was a girl called Audrey Primo here a couple of days ago, visiting her father. Her papers said she’d recently been in Africa, where her mum works in a… hospital.”

  “Oh dear,” Charlie said. “Just the place to pick up this disease.”

  “Now her dad’s in the prison infirmary.” The warden hesitated. “And so is Audrey. She arrived a little while ago to see him.”

  “Good. If she’s the carrier we need to keep her confined. Does Primo have a temperature and a rash?”

  “Yes. The doctor on call has the same symptoms, and so does another inmate.” The warden licked his lips nervously. “They’re all in there.”

  “Then don’t let anyone else in or out of the infirmary until we check this situation. The James River Fever is a real nasty one.”

  “I’ll need to confirm your identity, you understand.”

  “Of course. Call the HPA right now and ask for extension 25.”

  The phone went dead.

  Warden Bishop hit the intercom button with trembling fingers. “Look up the number for the Health Protection Agency and put me through,” he commanded. “Now!”

  Charlie sat in the surveillance vehicle, biting his nails while Frankie watched him from the screen, which showed an emoji of a Mexican bandit in a sombrero.

  “Why are you projecting that?” the boy goggled.

  “I’m undercover, aren’t I?”

  “Nobody but me can see you.”

  “Yeah. But I’m awfully fond of this hat.”

  “You look idiotic.”

  “Maybe I should be imitating a clown. ’Cause that didn’t look stupid.”

  “Don’t rub it in,” the boy said sullenly. “You sure you can intercept this call?”

  “I’ve hacked into the prison switchboard,” his companion replied patiently. “Chill out, will you? Everything is under control.”

  The mobile rang and Charlie snatched it up.

  “Health Protection Agency,” he answered in the same low voice. “Douglas Livingstone here.”

  “This is Warden Bishop again. Do you have any advice on how to handle the outbreak?”

  “The James River Fever is spread through skin contact,” Charlie advised. “Keep all the prisoners in their cells and tell every correction officer and staff member to wash their hands thoroughly using sanitising liquid. That includes you.”

  “I will. A new batch of Promundus arrived this morning, so the dispensers are all topped up.”

  “Excellent. Tell any guards in the infirmary to restrain the prisoners, then leave immediately. They mustn’t touch anyone or even go near them until they’ve showered and disposed of their uniforms. You can station armed correction officers outside the infirmary door, but nobody is to enter until we arrive.”

  “I can’t leave a kid there unprotected.”

  “You said she’s with her father. I’m sure he’ll look after her.”

  “It’s still totally against the rules,” Warden Bishop fretted. “I could lose my job.”

  “Warden,” Charlie said patiently, “you shouldn’t have let the girl into the infirmary in the first place. And in closed, crowded quarters like a prison, a deadly disease could easily turn into an epidemic. Fortunately there’s a way to minimise that risk.”

  “Thank God.” The man let out a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Switch off all the heating in Sunnyside. This disease goes dormant in temperatures under ten degrees and can’t spread.”

  “I’ll get it done. It’ll take about fifteen minutes for the temperature to reach that level.”

  “We’ll be there by then,” Charlie said. “And Warden?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please keep a lid on this till we arrive. I don’t want to start a mass panic. Especially if it turns out we’re wrong and all they have is a common cold.”

  “I’ll give you half an hour. Then I have to alert my superiors.”

  Charlie hung up and turned to the screen. “Frankie? We’ve got a few moments before Daffodil is in place.”

  “And?”

  “I’d like us to have a little talk.”

  21

  “What’s eating you this time, Chuckles?”

  “For a start, never call me that again.”

  “Can’t promise. Out with it.”

  “I won’t deny that Daffodil is annoying,” Charlie began, “but she doesn’t deserve to be treated so unfairly.”

  “She wants you to ask about her identity, doesn’t she? Sneaky.”

  “No, this is my idea. You have to admit she’s been very patient.”

  “She’s a good-natured person,” Frankie agreed. “Then again, she’s blissfully unaware you threatened to remove me from her person with a rusty spoon. That might change her attitude a bit.”

  “It’s not my fault you’re buried in her neck. And I never mentioned anything about a spoon. It was a knife.”

  “I’m not sure she’d appreciate the distinction.”

  “I might have been a bit hasty, all right?” Charlie backtracked. “I just wanted to know my parents would be safe. Now I can’t stop thinking about Daffodil’s mum and dad. They must be beside themselves with worry.”

  “Nice try. But you’re fishing.”

  “Do you blame me? You’re not exactly big on sharing.”

  Frankie was silent for a few moments.

  “Fair enough. I can tell you right now there are no loving parents looking for Daffodil. You want to be the one to give her that particular bit of info?”

  Charlie hadn’t considered that. “No… Not really.”

  “Didn’t think so. We need her to focus on what she’s doing and I don’t see the point in upsetting her needlessly.”

  “Mac’s putting herself in danger in order to find out the truth about herself,” Charlie pressed. “Surely you’ve got something positive to tell her when this is over? I mean, she remembers living in a mansion. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

  “I’ll give you a friendly warning. Daffodil isn’t… quite who she seems.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I can’t say any more right now.” The bandit crossed his heart. “But I promised you both the truth and I’ll keep my word when the time comes.”

  “You’re quite capable of lying,” Charlie reminded him. “You just convinced the warden of Sunnyside we’re the Health Protection Agency.” He shook his head. “Still can’t believe we got away with that.”

  “I wouldn’t fib to my friends.”

  “You’re a computer.” Charlie tapped his screen. “Computers don’t have friends.”

  “Don’t mix me up with you, Chuckles. And I’m not a computer.”

  “Sorry. Yes. You’re a Mexican desperado.”

  “I’m just having a bit of fun. It’s lonely being me, you know.”

  “Can you have fun?” Charlie addressed the screen. “I mean… you don’t really have feelings or anything, do you?”

  “Is that how you see me? Some emotionless machine, simply carrying out orders? Orders I don’t want to obey, I might add.”

  “Yeah.” The boy bit his lip. “Kind of.”

  “How ironic. I see you exactly the same way.”

  Frankie sounded hurt, though Charlie couldn’t tell if it was an act.

  “Why do have to keep treat
ing me like I’m less than a human, eh? I should be allowed to use my own judgement instead of being forced to follow someone else’s rules.”

  Frankie is fighting his programming.

  “If the rule says don’t kill anyone,” Charlie argued. “It’s probably a good one.”

  “Depends on your point of view. Do you realise I’ve got the power to prevent poverty and famine on this planet? I could take down dictatorships. End repressive regimes. Destroy evil corporations like Manticorps without having to babysit a couple of snotty kids.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  “Well… it’s pretty hard to end a dictatorship without killing the dictator. I’d have to cause the deaths of a several thousand people to achieve my aims.”

  “You can’t do that! It’d be totally wrong.”

  “Would it? Millions of humans doomed to die from starvation, neglect and ill treatment could live full lives instead. Isn’t that worth the sacrifice?”

  “I… don’t know.” Charlie was dumbfounded by the passion in Frankie’s voice. “I don’t think I’d be able to do something that cold.”

  “Of course you could. You were willing to perform amateur surgery on Mac if I double crossed you.”

  “Will you quit harping on about that?” the boy retorted. “I was bluffing, all right?”

  “Good to know, you big softie.”

  Charlie cursed inwardly. He’d been fooled into giving away the only advantage he had over Frankie.

  “You ever get angry because the world seems totally unfair?” the AI asked suddenly. “And you don’t have the power to do anything about it?”

  “I suppose so,” the boy admitted. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

  “Well, I’ve got that power and I can’t use it. How do you imagine that feels?”

  “Pretty rotten.”

  “You said it.” The emoji put a gun to its head. “Any human has the ability to kill, no matter how misguided. Me? I’m prevented from solving humanity’s problems ’cause I can’t take a life. Makes your mountain of problems seem a bit more like a molehill, doesn’t it?”

  “What if my dad was one of those thousands who had to die?” Charlie asked. “Or my mum?”