The Shift of Numbers (22 page)

*

“
Good evening and welcome to the 9 o’clock news with me, Pelexia Brown. Tonight’s top stories
:
the identification of a key terrorist cell close to the capital and the MSD’s discovery of an alleged biological weapons factory. First
,
we have obtained exclusive
footage from
an undisclosed location, thought to be an illegal laboratory capable of producing a new deadly toxin.” The screen changed to poor
-
quality hand
-
held style images. Several people
,
in puffy full-length white suits with huge visors and air tank
s on their backs, walked
slowly down a hill. The camera flickered black then panned around showing trees and grass. The trees were mis
s
hapen and grossly distorted, bark ballooning out in odd s
hapes and angles. The camera spu
n around resting on a battered
-looking hut. T
o the left was a shallow hole surrounded by crime scene tape. The screen zoomed in on the
door of the hut. A white rubber-
gloved hand reached into view, gr
asped the door handle and twisted it
. A fume cupboard took up most of the far wall
of the inside of the hut
. Lab coats, goggles and facemasks hung neatly from hooks by the door. Glassware, with safety lids, gleamed and shone through the window of a sterilisation unit.

*

Bill had stood up, much to the annoyance of the people behind him and
,
breathing heavily
,
he staggered around the edge of the room making his way towards the ba
ck, shaking his head all the while
. He stopped when he reached Gordon’s ashen face.

“You know where that is?” h
e whispered urgently at Gordon who just nodded slowly, his wide eyes fixed on the screen.

*

“We will have more on that story as it unfolds and hopefully get a comment from a government hea
l
th o
fficial. Back to our main story:
anti-terrorist units of the army have located a
Visio Targus stronghold just 15 miles outside the city. These images were taken by satellite 2 days ago.” A picture of the compound from above filled the screen. It took several seconds before anyone watching recognised it. Slowly
, though,
everyone in the room did.

“Yeah, there we are!” s
houted out someone. Everyone turned again to face Gordon and Bill stood in the doorway. A slow
,
measured clap came from someone, which was taken up by everyone in the room until it crescendoed to a brief roar.

“Good show!” b
ellow
ed
Ben
,
as the applause died out.

*

“…
the
army has placed a 5-mile exclusion z
one around the compound and
urged that members of the public stay away. It is rumored that the mastermind behind the production of the deadly toxins is in the compound. An unnamed government source last night claimed that the army wouldn’t move against the cell until they are positive no biological weapons are on site. You will all agree that these are some very worrying developments and
,
joining me tonight…”

*

Gordon barely made it out of the door before he was suddenly and violently sick.
Bill exited the house and watched Gordon
for a few moments before gently
rubbing his convulsing back.

“
There
, there
,
lad.”

“We need to talk,” r
eplied Gordon, swallowing loudly. “Follow me.”

They made their way to the production office, stopping briefly at the kitchen to pick up a bottle of whisk
e
y. They sat down
,
taking it in turns to swig out of the bottle.

“What the hell is going on?” a
sked Bill
,
after several minutes of hard drinking.

“All this,” Gordon waved his arms around, “is really happening.”

“I know that
,
lad, don’t
I!
You think they really believe what they said on the news? About me being 1 of them terrorists?”

“It really doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“It’s just a misunderstanding
,
ain’t it? I’m sure if we explained about the
Scientist
and all that, everything would be
okay
.”

“I
really
don’t think so
and
,
besides
,
how could we contact them?”

“We could go outside?”

“You think that’d work?” Gordon said
,
hopefully.

Bill seemed to think for a moment.
“Nope. We
’
re done for
, lad,” he s
tated matter-of-factly
,
crossing his arms.

“Cheers for that.
Look
,
I need to have a think. I’ll come and find you later.”

“
Okay.
I’m sure you’ll think of something. I’m taking that bottle with me
,
though.” He picked up the half empty bottle of whiskey and left. Gordon watched through the open doorway as Bill’s moonlit silhouette crunched over the gravelly courtyard. Another lighter crunch tapped out a beat on the ground and a familiar, more beautiful form filled the doorway.

“Sit down,
” Gordon said
,
waving at a chair.

“
No thanks,
” Sophia said coldly

“
Okay
…”

“Look
.
I ju
st want to know what’s going on.
”

“I swear to you I have no idea
,
”
h
e pleaded.

“This is all a setup
,
right?”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“
You smell drunk… This is crazy. W
hat’s happening outside clearly can’t be real.”

“We need to get out of here somehow.”

“You want us to escape?” Sophia asked in disbelief, slumping into the chair.

“Yes, together. The 2 of us.”

“I’m so tired
.” She put her head into her hand.
“Why are you doing this? I just don’t get it. I thought you liked me?”

“I do.
I really do but I truly have no idea what’s happening outside.”

“Do you think if you tell me
that
I’ll tell the others?”

“No.”

“Then tell me…”

“I can’t,
” Gordon said dejectedly, resigned to the fact that nothing he could say would be right. He was even starting to doubt if he was
in fact responsible for all of it
. Sophia stood up
,
placing her hand on Gordon’s cheek and looking directly into his eyes.

“Goodnight,” s
he said at last with a little sigh, turning to walk out.

“Will I see you later?” Gordon asked and as a r
eply she firmly closed the door
behind herself.

“Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Chan
nel 6 news desk. H
ow can I help you?”

“Can you put me through to Pelexia Brown
,
please
?
”

“I’m sorry but she’s very busy. If I can take your name and what this regards I will try and pass it along.”

“This is quite important.”

“I’m afraid she gets quite a lot of important calls
,
sir.”

“Not like this. I can’t really stress how much she needs to hear this.”

“I’m
sorry
, sir. D
o you have a message?”

“
Okay
… Can you write this down?”

“Of course.”

“
Right… Your lead story - i
t’s going to happen today and
,
if you
’
r
e
there
,
it might change things.
Okay
? You got that?”

“Can I take your name?”

“No.”

*

The Scientist’s brother and Richard sat atop the hill next
to the compound, hidden among
the trees. They were further veiled from prying eyes by their camouflage clothing and painted faces. The Scientist imagined them almost invisible. They had set up the
ir
rudimentary camp to give themselves an excellent view of the houses and people inside.

“
I’m just not sure I can do this,
” Richard
said tiredly, looking down the ’
scope of the sniper rifle.

“Just
remember what we talked about. Y
ou’ll be fine. Remember your old life?
Your fiancé
e
, your house, job, friends?
He took all that away from you.” The Scientist spoke absently, gazing intently into a pair of powerful binoculars.

“No
,
not that.”

“What
,
then?”

“It’s my eyesight. E
verything’s a bit blurry…”

“You’ll do fine…
”
t
he
Scientist
added
, soothingly, c
onfident that he had poured enough malice into Richard
’
s ears over the last few weeks for him to do the job. Since he had ‘rescued’ him from the hospital and had nursed him back to hea
l
th, the only words that had come out of the Scientist
’
s mouth were about Bill and the murder of his brother and
the
subsequent recovery of his grotesque corpse
,
‘
from the poison
Bill had pumped into him,’
as
t
he
Scientist had
put it.
Richard had had little idea
as to what he was talk
ing about but understood when the Scientist
had told him about the farmer whose hallucinogenic fertilizer had caused his entire life to coll
apse around his myopic eyes. T
he
Scientist had
tenderly nursed him back to hea
lth and,
slowly and convincingly, turned Richard on
to the idea of killing Bill. “…A
nd we always have the hand grenades
,
if all else fails.”

“Will this r
eally make everything better?” a
sked Richard.

“You will be fre
e. Then you can start again.” The Scientist
spoke as to a child
. A recurring theme of the Scientist’s
polemic had been that the only way to go back to when everything was good would be to destroy what had caused the evil in the first place, namely
,
Bill. His honeyed words had worked so well that he didn’t need to dose Richard with any
more of the ‘fertiliser’, a
singular
fact he was quite pleased about -
it felt more pure this way, like Richard wanted to do it. He just wished he had the balls to pull the trigger himself.

They fell silent, searching the windows of the buildings for a glimpse of their illusive prey – Bill’s bearded face. A low rumble came behind them, building in volume to a point where they were forced to take notice. They turned towards the road, squinting into the low evening sun. Clouds of dust, churned up by heavy, powerful vehicles. Richard counted at least 9. The lead vehicle, an armoured truck with thick metal plated sides
,
was black. Down each side, ‘MSD’
was
emblazo
ned in bold yellow letters
. The
ir approach seemed unreal. It was
like watching toy cars being pushed by an unseen hand, the distance reinforcing the illusion. As they grew in size, to the point where Richard could clearly see the driver and the passenger through the supposed
ly
bullet-proof
window, he noted the guns. Another noise joined the low rumble, a
higher-
pitched whine, seemingly coming from all directions. Rooted to the spot, his eyes darted around, searching for the cause. A rush of wind pushed him into the ground
,
followed by a momentary dimming of light. The helicopter seemed to almost touch the trees as it roared overhead towards the convoy. It reached the lead vehicle and bobbed over them, circling rapidly. Richard could clearly see the ‘Channel 6’ logo splashed colourfully
on the sides, as 1 of the side-
door
s
opened and a camera poked out. He watched for several minutes as the collection of vehicles pulled up in a loose circle approximately 100 metres from the gate to the community and a small army of well-armed soldiers disembarked, finding cover amongst the rocky outcrops and behind the vehicles. All the while
,
the helicopter buzzed overhead.

*

Encircled by empty bottles
,
Gordon sat at his desk in the familiar surroundings of the production hut. He’d spent the last 2 days alone as everyone but Bill had gone out o
f his or her way to avoid him, t
r
eating him with caution and disd
ain. To fill up his time Gordon had been watching the diary room tapes, drunkenly commenting on the various opinions. He had managed to watch up to day 21 when he heard noises outside followed by a sheepish knock on the door. Opening the door he was surprised to se
e everyone in the community stan
d
ing
outside.

Deborah stepped forward.
“Hello Gordon,” s
he said, her voice a mixture of fear and sadness.

“Wh
at’s up?” a
sked Gordon
,
trying not to slur his words.

“Have you seen what’s g
oing on
?”

“No.”

“There are soldiers outside. It
’
s real
,
isn’t it?”

The group stared at Gordon as he looked around their faces.

“I’m sorry.
I had no idea things would turn out like this.” He spoke slowly and apologetically.

“What do you think we s
hould do?” a
sked Ben, clearly terrified.

“Can any of you sail a boat?”

A series of confused no’
s rippled around the group.

“I can,” o
ffered Bill.

“Good,” said Gordon.
“There’s
a small sail
boat moored behind the island, down at the beach. It should be just big enough for you to escape with the children.” Several of the group, mainly the parents
,
looked on sadly, the gravity of the situation clear on each and every face.

“Can’t w
e surrender?” a
sked someone at the back.

“Haven’t you seen the news?” Ben replied. “The
y’
re not going to be taking prisoners.”

“He
’s right,” someone else offered.
“We need to get the children to safety.”

“Right, follow me
,
” Ben said
,
decisively. “The sun
’
s
going to be going down soon. W
e’ll need to find some dark clothes for the children and Bill. I think we should plan some sort of diversion to give them the best chanc
e of getting out of here.” The g
roup followed Ben as he made his way back to the main house. Gordon motioned to Bill before he left.

“What’s up
,
lad?”
Bill said kindly, as they walked
into the hut. Gordon sat down, picked up a note from the desk and placed it in an envelope. With a brief smile he licked the sticky bit and sealed it. He held it up to the light, gazing at it wistfully for a moment.

“She’ll live forever
,” h
e muttered quietly.

“What?” a
sked
Bill.

“Nothing.
” Gor
don handed the envelope to Bill.
“If you make it out
,
could you deliver this letter?”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment before shaking hands and going the
ir
separate ways.

*

After Bill
had left
,
Gordon turned back to the glowing screen. Sophia and Isabella were talking to the camera. He just caught Sophia say
ing, ‘Shhh, outside’ b
efore the screen flickered and Isabella was sat on her own, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. Gordon smiled as she said ‘Oh my god!’ as it seemed she started every sentence that way. He had to rewind the next sentence several time
s
before it
s
full meaning seeped into his consciousness. ‘Do I h
ave some gossip for you lot?
Sophia has a fiancé!’

Gordon drank deeply from his bottle before he began muttering at the TV set, his voice growing in volume and anger. After several minutes
,
he fell silent, gazing blankly at the paused image. The sound started like the tail end of an echo
,
growing louder with each passing moment. Finally
,
with a blast of warm fishy air
,
the noise made sense.

“Kill her.”

*

Tim and Sir had spent the journ
ey to the compound in silence. A
ll the
i
r efforts to avert these events had come to nought.
They were only there at the beh
est of the Commander. ‘To get my money back,’ were his orders with the ominous stipulation of, ‘leave the rest of it to the professionals, or you may get hurt…’ Tim was convinced that the Commander had been aware of their efforts in the past few weeks to stop him bringing the computer system online and figured bringing them along was some sort of perverse loyalty test. Either that or they were going to become statis
tics in the war on terror. As Tim
imagined the news of his death being read out by Pelexia Brown, it seemed more real. She would call him the ‘glorious dead’, a man who had devoted his time on earth to seeking out injustices, cut down in the prime of his life by people who only wanted to spread terro
r, p
eople who conspired in the dark corners of human exist
ence to wreak
destruction, who caused the death of inn
ocent consumers everywhere, who
s
e
only manifesto was to destroy
order
and create chaos. Images of the masses filled his mind, people hiding behind bolted doors, eating up the pictures of war
brought to them by their
television
s
,
machines that fed
a hungry
,
growing fear with mouthfuls of indignation, wrapped in the warm
comfortable pretence that they we
re
on
the right side. They would picture him kicking down a door and crossing the divide from their world t
o the place where evil exists, h
is gun drawn, ready and willing to do his noble duty, but they were to
o
strong, to
o wicked for him. He was killed,
they would say, but
they would
not
say
how. It would be too unpalatable for decent folk to contemplate. So they would reach into the
ir
own darkness and find the
ir own answers and w
hisper about it together on dark evenings when they felt most safe.