Children of the Cull (3 page)

“No.”

“
Ma’am, three attacks in a week
...”

“We’ve been attacked before.”

“
But never in such quick succession. This has to be the work of a gang. The guns recovered today match those on Monday
.”

“Are you telling me we have an army at our gates?

“
We many never know, unless we go and look
.”

“I’m not going to repeat myself, chief. No one goes off base. There’s no need. You’ve proved that you can handle anything they throw at us.”

“
Three or four at a time, but if they attack en masse...
”

We were going around in circles. A change of subject was required. “Was anyone hurt?”

“
Eckstein, but not badly, thank God. He’s in the infirmary
.”

“Could have been worse. And the raiders?”

“
No longer a threat. I’ll have a full report with you in an hour.
”

“You do that,” I said, putting down the phone.

“Do you get the feeling he’s enjoying himself just a little too much?” Allison asked, leaning back in her chair.

Tension was working its way up my neck, a headache beginning to form. I looked out at the rain lashing against the window.

“Little boys playing soldiers.”

“Was he complaining about resources again?”

“What do you think?”

“Have you thought about requesting”—she snorted at her own melodrama—“reinforcements?”

“And make Moore’s role any bigger than it is?”

Another laugh. I sighed, marshalling my thoughts. The truth of the matter was that the Cabal would be over us in a flash if I so much as suggested that the project was in jeopardy. It was hard enough keeping them at arm’s length at the best of times.

No, better to keep quiet and see where the next few weeks led. Moore was probably right. The attacks we’d suffered in the past had been opportunistic. A former MoD base was always going to be a hot target, especially in a relatively remote location. Places like this suggested weapons and supplies, even after Operation Motherland and the Americans had cleaned most of them out. And it was obvious that the base was occupied, in a sea of empty fields and derelict housing. No wonder interested parties got cocky from time to time, chancing their arms.

This felt different. Our defences were being tested, by someone who didn’t care if their men came back dead or alive.

But we were safe, I was sure of that. Whatever Moore claimed, the Cabal had provided more than enough. Weapons, supplies, even a lorry-load of books and DVDs.

“
All work and no play leads to exhaustion and poor results, Dr Tomas. Remember, you are running a scientific community, not a work camp.
”

Our benevolent masters.

Enough. I pushed the chair back and rose to my feet, Allison mirroring the action, surprised by my sudden movement.

“Are we leaving?”

“I want to check in on Ruth,” I replied, turning to leave the small office, “make sure the attack hasn’t unsettled her.”

Olive stepped forward from where she had been hovering by the door, my constant shadow, as silent as a ghost until required. Some days I even forgot she was there.

“Dr Tomas, the morning briefing...”

I ignored her, opening the door and emerging into the windowless corridor.

T
HE CHILDREN’S DORMS
were on the top floor of Neighbourhood Three, one storey up from the heads of department. We took the stairs, Allison regaling me with the argument she’d had with Bets last night. I made all the right noises and nodded in what I hoped were all the right places, barely taking in any of the details. I had no problem with relationships among staff members; it was inevitable, living in such proximity. But I didn’t need a blow-by-blow account of their domestic bliss or otherwise. There was a reason my personal quarters were in the east wing of Neighbourhood Two, while the rest of the staff had taken over the west wing. Allison said that all the empty corridors would give her the creeps, knowing that she was alone in a wing at night, but I didn’t mind. I was only there to sleep. Why would I need anyone near?

It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea where Olive was barracked. She had to be with the rest in the west wing, but I’d never asked. Better that way. I wasn’t here to make friends.

What a shame Allison didn’t seem to realise that. I just hoped she wasn’t about to get into how she and Bets had made up.

“Have you seen Ruth this morning?” I asked as we approached the Dorm corridor, bringing Allison’s attention back to our patient.

Allison nodded breezily. “I checked in as soon as the alarm sounded. She was fine. She’s
always
fine, you know that.”

“I don’t know,” I replied as we approached the door marked with Ruth’s name. “There’s been something about her recently.”

“Like what?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be worried. Something in her manner.”

Allison opened the door to the suite and stepped into the small antechamber that preceded Ruth’s actual quarters. Like all of the children’s dorms, the rooms had been converted from old offices, each with an observation area identical to the one we were standing in. Allison lowered her voice, even though Ruth wouldn’t be able to hear a thing. The place was completely soundproof.

“Her test scores are consistent, her responses exceeding expectations. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

I stared through the one-way mirror that separated us from the 12-year old girl we were discussing. Allison was right—on paper, nothing had changed, but...

It was a hunch, nothing more.

Ruth sat in her stark quarters, cross-legged on the floor, staring up at a television screen set into the wall. A games controller twisted in her hands as she threw the racing car around the circuit on the screen, the soundtrack playing through her headset. Crowds lined the side of the racetrack, waving their pixelated arms above hoardings for long-forgotten soft drinks. It was a world Ruth had never known, one that even I struggled to remember, and yet what could be more normal than a girl sitting in her bedroom playing computer games?

“Let her know we’re here,” I instructed, and Allison went to the adjoining door, pressing a button on the intercom, and a doorbell chimed. Ruth barely looked away from her screen.

Allison laughed. “I doubt she can even hear us over those things.”

She tried again, and this time the girl answered, calling over the intercom.

“
Yes
.”

“Ruth, it’s Dr Tomas and Dr Harwood.”

“
Come in.
”

I nodded at Allison, who entered, holding the door open for me to follow. As always, Ruth’s room was immaculate, a place for everything and everything in its place. My mother would have been proud.

Ruth was wearing her usual light blue pyjamas, one of the few splashes of colour in the largely white space.

Allison closed the door behind us, shutting Olive in the observation area. I walked over to Ruth’s small functional desk, pulling out the chair to sit down. The papers on the desk were perfectly ordered in neat piles, the pens lined up in order of colour and size.

“Good morning, Dr Tomas,” Ruth offered, still engrossed in the game.

“Good morning, Ruth. How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “How are you?”

The conversation was hardly what you’d call spontaneous; we said the same thing, day after day, never deviating from the script.

“Very well, thank you. Are you enjoying your game?” I said, glancing at the screen. Ruth’s car slewed round a tight corner.

“It’s my favourite,” came the reply.

You wouldn’t know by looking at her. She was concentrating, but there was no sign she was enjoying the activity. Her face was a passive mask, and she played in total silence at all times. There were seven other subjects, similar in age to Ruth, in similar rooms, and we had allowed them the headsets to communicate when they played their video games. The results hadn’t been what you’d expect from children their age. No shouting or yelling, no grunts of frustration as they misjudged their cars’ speed and crashed into the barriers. Just an indifferent, one-tone commentary of the race, politely praising each other on their gameplay.

“Can you pause it, please?” I asked, remembering the tantrum that would have followed whenever my mum had asked me to turn off the Commodore 64 when I was Ruth’s age.
Just five minutes longer, please!

Not Ruth. She complied without question, hitting a button and placing the controller down in front of her, the headset obediently removed. Without a flicker of emotion, she shifted on the floor to face me, every movement controlled and calculated.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Even as she looked at me, I could hear what Olive had said about Ruth the previous day.

Such a shame, really. She could be quite pretty, if it wasn’t for... well, you know...

For the fact she was a subject in ongoing medical research, restricted most of the time to these four walls. I had told Olive what I thought of her comments, that in this day and age, after everything that had happened, surely it didn’t matter if someone was pretty or not. Why were we still using looks as a yardstick, what difference did it make?

Olive had pouted those full, painted lips of hers and returned to her clipboard.

It was true, Ruth was a striking child. Her features were symmetrical and smooth, her eyes a brilliant, almost breathtaking shade of blue. She was a little underweight for her age and height, her cheekbones pronounced without being gaunt, but held herself in perfect posture at all times, her back ramrod straight. Her pallor was, understandably, that of someone who spent too much time inside, although she regularly took part in Dr Heslin’s PE sessions out on the hard courts behind Neighbourhood Two. I couldn’t say she enjoyed them, as none of the children seemed to enjoy anything. They didn’t complain or moan—quite the opposite—but attacked every task, from studies to pastimes, as jobs that needed to be completed as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“She’s a machine,” Olive had decreed on another self-opinionated occasion. “A nice enough kid, but... unsettling, you know?” When I’d ignored her, my assistant had simply seen it as carte blanche to continue. “It would help if she had some hair. Even eyebrows would be an improvement. You could at least give the poor child a scarf to wear.”

I’d offered Ruth a headscarf the next day.

“There is no need, doctor,” Ruth had replied flatly. “I am quite warm, thank you.”

Olive had just rolled her eyes.

I leant forward, Ruth’s chair squeaking beneath my weight.

“Did you hear the alarm this morning, Ruth?”

The girl nodded. “Of course. Was there a problem on the perimeter?”

“Just a drill,” I lied.

“There was shooting,” Ruth replied, a statement of fact, nothing more.

I nodded. “There was.”

“Part of the drill?”

“Yes.”

I searched her pale face for a response. Could she tell that I was lying? Any indication that she was aware that she was being deceived?

“How did it make you feel?”

“Curious.”

“You weren’t scared?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we are safe here.”

“You and the other children?”

Ruth paused, and there it was again; the same twitch in her eye that I had noticed yesterday. Was it a reaction to the mention of her fellow subjects? I wanted to turn to Allison, to ask if she’d seen it, but forced myself to focus on the girl.

“Were any of them scared?” Ruth asked, her tone as even and considered as ever. “The other children, I mean.”

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t asked them. I came to see you first.”

She nodded, accepting this at face value and the moment was gone. What was she feeling? Pride that I’d favoured her? Frustration that I couldn’t answer her question?

Something must have been going on behind those azure eyes.

“Doctor, may I return to my game?” Ruth asked.

“Yes,” I conceded, “but not for long. Your breakfast will be arriving soon.”

“Of course,” Ruth replied, slipping the headset over her ears again. She picked up the controller and hit the start button, the car on the screen accelerating away.

I watched her play, Olive’s words coming back unbidden:
a machine
.

I turned to Allison, who shrugged and mouthed a silent
See?

Business as usual.

I was about to say goodbye, when the door crashed open. It was Ed Dunning, one of the medical staff, his face almost as pale as Ruth’s.

I jumped up. “Nurse Dunning?”

“Doctor, you need to come.” Ed flashed a look at Ruth, who was lost to the game again. “Right now.”

His expression told me not to ask any more questions until we were out of the room. I hurried after him, Allison shutting the door behind me, so we could speak freely.

“Ed, whatever’s happened?”

The nurse’s eyes were wide and full of tears. “It’s Samuel. He’s... he’s dead.”

CHAPTER FOUR

KILL