The Lingering Read online

  She nodded her head, as if convincing herself of her own words. “I’m completely sure of my findings. I’m sure the cases I’ve discovered are more evolved than the other Lingering. I’ll admit I’m not sure if this new level of awareness is due to the natural evolution of the virus, or whether it’s due to intervention of some kind. Either way it’s alarming.”

  “Why is it alarming?”

  She returned her gaze to his face. She looked surprised by his question. “If they are evolving of their own accord, then we will need to class them as a new species. If that’s the case, then eradicating the virus becomes a questionable thing to do. We would be committing genocide.”

  “But what if it’s a man-made change?”

  “Then that’s even more alarming. Why would anyone want Lingering who can think? I can only come up with one reason, to form a controllable swarm.”

  Archer slumped back against the wall of the chopper, and rubbed his hands over his face. Things were quickly going from bad to worse.

  “We’ve faced swarms in Africa, and they’re all but unstoppable. Thousands of Lingering, all driven by hunger; it’s a terrifying sight. Add to that the ability to think and to plan … I don’t even want to imagine it.” He looked at her and asked, “Do you think Westbourne is experimenting on The Lingering?”

  She nodded. “The virus has never shown any signs of evolution beyond normal mutation. I think Westbourne may be trying to control The Lingering. He may just be doing it to make the management of them easier, but for some reason I think he has a more sinister intent.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he could use them to threaten governments for more money. I don’t think he could use them as a controllable force, but he could certainly spread a lot of fear with them. Imagine Lingering who could open doors, climb ladders, or hunt in organized packs. The public would demand even more stringent measures put in place. His empire would become unstoppable.”

  Suddenly he felt very tired, and more than a little concerned. Finally he said, “Do you think we might encounter organized swarms on this mission?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Fuck, why didn’t I become an accountant. I could’ve had a nice house, a pretty wife and two kids. Instead I have to deal with this shit.”

  He stood, and his team’s eyes instantly fixed on him.

  “Dr Bartholomew has some new information for you. Listen to her carefully, because it affects our mission.”

  Bartholomew went over what she had just told Archer with the rest of the team. After a few minutes of stunned silence, Dallas was the first to speak.

  “Boss, turn this bird around and get some more fucking men.”

  Archer shook his head. “We don’t have enough time for that. The way I see it is this – nothing much has changed. Sure, some of the biters may have the same IQ as a dog, but at least most of us are smarter.” He looked at Dallas and grinned. “We just have to stay sharper. I’m guessing that these brainiac biters will be kept close to our target, so most of our trip will not be affected.”

  Bouchard raised his hand. “Boss, do we ‘ave permission to use extreme prejudice on these new biters? I mean the doc says they may be a new species.”

  Archer looked at Bartholomew, then back to Bouchard. “I don’t care what they are, if one of those things comes at you – put a round in its head.”

  Bartholomew got to her feet and stood beside Archer. “I really don’t think they’re a new species, it’s just a possibility. I would say the likelihood of this mutation being natural is around three percent. I’m sure the changes are due to Westbourne.”

  Fairclough checked his gun. “I don’t give a damn if they are a new species, they don’t belong here. If it were up to me, I’d put a bullet in the head of every one of them.”

  Bartholomew stared at him angrily. “What if it was your family?”

  Fairclough stared at her coldly. “We were meant to die. What’s happening now isn’t natural, you said that yourself.”

  Her face coloured with anger. “I know it’s not natural, that’s why I’m trying to stop it from happening to others. But for those who have already changed, well they should be treated with respect.”

  Archer held his hand up, gesturing for silence. “Enough! People have argued about this for nearly two hundred years, we’re not going to settle the debate here, so shut it! As far as I can see, our mission hasn’t changed. We have twenty minutes until target. So I suggest you all use that time to get your heads back in order.”

  Chapter 12

  Location: Westbourne Corporation’s Hobart control centre

  Date: June 23rd 2013

  Time: 2:20 a.m.

  Mathew Samson checked his display again. His screen showed a large number of slow moving dots, each with a name and number. The dots represented every ship moving in and out of waters controlled by the Westbourne Corporation. However, it wasn’t the moving dots that interested him. No, what held his attention was the stationary dot, which symbolized the HMS Singleton. For close to an hour the ship hadn’t moved more than an inch. Clearly the ship was anchored.

  Samson reached for the phone just to the left of his keyboard.

  “Hello, Ops, could you patch me through to the Singleton please?”

  Several seconds passed, before a voice filled his ear.

  “This is Captain Jacklyn Coonan of the Singleton, how may I help you?”

  “Yes captain, my name is Mathew Samson. I’m the chief in control of maritime traffic. I’ve noticed your ship appears to be anchored.”

  “That’s right. We have had some engine difficulties, so we’ve anchored while our engineers fix the problem.”

  “I see. Can we offer you any assistance?”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I believe we will have the problem fixed within twenty-four hours or so.”

  “Okay, Captain. Please keep us apprised of your situation.”

  “We will.”

  Samson placed the phone back on its receiver, and tapped it with his finger. Finally, he picked it up again.

  “Hello, Ops, patch me through to Mr Markus.”

  Almost a minute passed, and then Samson heard the tired sounding voice of George Markus.

  “Yes, what is it?” yawned Westbourne’s aid.

  “Sir, a ship has made an unscheduled anchoring, and I know Sir Richard wanted to be informed of any unusual happenings.”

  “Did the ship’s captain give you any explanation as to why they’ve anchored?”

  “Yes, sir. The captain said they’re having engine difficulties.”

  “And do you believe the captain is lying?”

  Samson glanced at the dot representing the Singleton. “I don’t know, sir. I just know that we have orders to report anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Thank you for your diligence, but I don’t want to wake Sir Richard for something that may simply be a mechanical failure. Give them until daybreak, and then send our closest boat to take a look. If they say something looks odd, I’ll inform Sir Richard.”

  “As you wish, sir. I’ll dispatch a patrol boat now; they’ll reach the Singleton around seven, which is just after first light.”

  Without another word, the line went dead. Samson removed the phone from his ear and stared at it. He felt sure Sir Richard wouldn’t be happy with Markus’s decision, so he instantly logged his call, and his concerns. If someone was going to lose their job over this, then he didn’t want it to be him.

  Chapter 13

  Location: unnamed cove thirty six miles south east of old Melbourne

  Date: June 23rd 2013

  Time: 3:30 a.m.

  The wheels of the EH-101 Merlin touched down on the golden sands of a short beach. The chopper held position as archer and his team unloaded their equipment. It took a meagre sixty seconds for the team to disgorge the chopper of all their gear, and then the dark shape of the Merlin tore off back out to sea.

  The group moved q
uickly to ready their packs and weapons. Like a well-oiled machine, Archer and his men carried out the tasks of prepping for the mission. Supplies, weapons, navigation equipment, all were checked and rechecked, then stowed ready for their hike to Melbourne. Bartholomew watched on in a reverent awe as the men worked in silence. Their fluid movements showed their cool state of mind, and extreme levels of training.

  Archer clipped the last magazine of ammo to his belt, and looked around. Since the Merlin’s departure, he and his band of men had transitioned from chopper passengers, to deadly assault team, in less than a minute. His eyes fixed on a small ridge just above the beach.

  “We’ll move to that ridge and hold position until daylight,” said Archer as he pointed at the rock formation. “Dallas, you’ll take the first watch, then Bouchard, and Fairclough will take the last. One hour watch cycles will take us to dawn.” He turned to Bartholomew. “Doctor, stay close to me, stay sharp, but most of all, stay quiet.”

  The young doctor nodded grimly, and with shaking hands, she quickly checked the silencer of her gun. Archer watched her for a few seconds, then raised his weapon, and led the way towards the ridge. As they expected, The Lingering were nowhere to be seen, so the group settled into position atop the ridge, and soon all but Dallas were asleep.

  Archer opened his eyes just as the sun cracked the eastern sky, sending a wondrous red glow over the terrain. He looked around and saw Bartholomew standing beside Fairclough. To his surprise, both held binoculars, and seemed to be studying something in the distance. Intrigued by their body language, he watched them in silence for more than a minute.

  He prided himself on reading people, and nothing about the pair’s demeanour suggested they were scrutinizing anything threatening. Instead, he felt they were witnessing something of interest. In fact, they reminded him of the people he had once travelled with while on a safari in Africa. They looked as if they were marvelling at a pride of lions, or a parade of elephants. Finally, with his interest completely peaked, Archer unzipped his sleeping bag and headed towards them.

  “What’s up?” he asked in a husky whisper.

  Fairclough turned to look at him, but Bartholomew remained glued to whatever wonder the distance held.

  “Morning, Boss. You got to see this.”

  Fairclough handed Archer his binoculars and stepped to one side. Archer moved into place beside Bartholomew, and raised the glasses to his eyes.

  His gaze fell on a spectacle approximately a mile or so away. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of Lingering traipsed slowly around in a massive circle. The low bush which covered most of the ground in the area had been trampled flat, and a large plume of dust rose into the air above them. Archer increased the magnification of his binoculars, and tried to focus in on their faces.

  All of the unfortunate creatures stomped around with their heads hung low. This made it hard for Archer to get a good look at them, but he studied them as best he could. Even with the limited glimpse he got, he could tell none of them were biters. He lowered the binoculars and turned to Fairclough.

  “Who spotted them first?”

  “Dallas did, but the group was much smaller then. He was using night vision when he spotted a group of about fifty Lingering. One of them collapsed to the floor and the others started to circle it. Pretty soon Lingering started to appear from everywhere, and they just joined in.”

  Archer turned to Bartholomew. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  She shook her head. “No, but it’s unusual to see this number of Lingering together. I think we should take a closer look.”

  Archer nodded. “I agree. None of them look aggressive, so I think we can risk it.” He turned to Fairclough. “Wake the others and break camp. Once you’re done, take up sniper cover points. If you spot any that look like biters, take them out.”

  “Sure, Boss. Should I remind you to be careful?”

  “You just did.”

  Archer led the way towards the massive herd in a low crouching walk. None of The Lingering seemed the least bit interested in them. The pair came to a stop just out of arms reach of the outer circle of the slowly revolving mass of decaying beings.

  Archer turned to the doctor at his side and asked, “What do you want to do? Do you want to push to the centre of the herd?”

  “We have an opportunity to really learn something new, so I think we should at least try.”

  Archer nodded his agreement. “I think you’re right, just make sure all your skin is covered. We don’t want one of those things scratching us.”

  The two began rolling down their sleeves, and then pulled thick gloves from their belts and quickly placed them on their hands. Finally, they drew down the protective face masks which were attached to the top of their helmets.

  Archer stood and pulled a knife. The other hand he offered to Bartholomew. “Move slowly, no sudden moves and only talk if needed, and even then only in a whisper.”

  Making sure to keep their eyes open for biters, the two edged into the slow moving mass of decomposition and stench. Archer’s earpiece crackled to life, and he heard the panicked voice of Bouchard in his ear.

  “Boss, ‘ave you lost your mind, what are you and that pretty little thing playing at? You’re going to get yourselves killed!”

  Archer released Bartholomew’s hand and raised it slowly to his throat-mike. He clicked the button twice, acknowledging Bouchard’s transmission, but he remained silent.

  It took a full five minutes for the two to reach the centre of the herd, by which time both their eyes and nostrils stung from the intensity of the reek given off by the herd.

  In the middle of the swirling mass, lay a badly decayed member of their number. Much of its flesh and musculature had been eaten away by years under an intensely hot sun. Its eyes searched the herd as if looking for someone, and for the first time in many years, Archer actually saw the poor thing for what it had once been – a human.

  Bartholomew knelt and examined the badly decomposed creature, and pointed to its legs. Archer looked at them and saw that each of its legs had snapped just below its knee. She gestured for him to kneel at her side. He complied, and she leaned in to whisper to him.

  “It’s like watching a herd of wildebeest when one of them gets injured. The herd will stay close until the animal either dies, or re-joins them.”

  “I agree, but this thing isn’t going anywhere. We should end its suffering.”

  Bartholomew eyed him for a moment, then she nodded her agreement.

  Archer placed the point of his knife against the skull of the fallen creature, and plunged it deep into its brain. Instantly, the herd let out a gut-wrenching bellow, and ceased their endless circling.

  Alarmed, Archer jumped to his feet and pulled his gun. The bellowing continued for close to a minute, but none of those making the eerie noise made any attempt to attack them. Finally the din stopped, and the herd began to disperse.

  Archer offered Bartholomew his hand. She still knelt beside the corpse taking tissue samples, but she accepted his offer, and allowed him to help her to her feet. The two began to work their way through the throng, and back to the position held by the team.

  As they cleared the outer lines of the herd, Bartholomew raised her mask and gulped in a lungful of fresh air. Archer did the same. As they walked back to the ridge, Archer looked back at the quickly dispersing herd.

  “It felt like they were mourning the one I dispatched, but that isn’t possible … is it?”

  Bartholomew followed his gaze and said, “I think this mission is going to challenge a lot of our preconceived ideas about The Lingering. I think we can safely say that what we just witnessed proves that they have at least a rudimentary sense of being.”

  “Why don’t they act like that back in our world?”

  Bartholomew stopped and stared at him. “Is that how you see it? Is this their world and the rest of the planet is ours?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. Look, you can nit-pick my choi
ce of words, but you know what I meant. Why do they act like that here, but not anywhere else?”

  She began to walk again. “Well, for one thing we don’t have herds of that size. Also we don’t allow The Lingering to hang around. As soon as people change, they are shipped off. We’ve never really had a chance to study them in such detail. I mean, that herd could be decades old, and no one has ever had the chance to study anything like it.”

  The two reached the rest of the team, and Bouchard ambled towards them. “Boss, I ‘ave to make this clear to you, don’t do that again. Taking risks like that jeopardizes the mission, and I can’t allow that.”

  Archer nodded. “You’re right, sorry. Now that I’ve been suitably told off, shall we make a move?”

  Chapter 14

  Location: Westbourne Corporation’s Hobart control centre

  Date: June 23rd 2013

  Time: 8:30 a.m.

  Sir Richard Westbourne stared out of the window at his massive complex, and tucked into his second helping of bacon and eggs. Business was good, which meant life was good. All he had to do now was stop that annoying cow from getting to his ancients. He wiped at his mouth and wondered why she hadn’t made her move. He felt sure that she should have tried something by now, but maybe he had misjudged her determination. Somehow he doubted that to be the case. Rarely, if ever, did he misread a situation and he felt sure his instincts hadn’t let him down.

  The door to his right opened, and his aid George Markus, entered.

  “You look tired, George, did you have a restless night?”

  “A little. Ops woke me to tell me of a problem with one of the Royal Navy ships, and it took me a while to nod back off.”

  Westbourne laid down his knife and fork, then pinned his aid with a stern look. “What kind of problem, and why wasn’t I informed?”