This was a tough one to write, but not the last chapter. Thank you, guys, for reading and reviewing. :')
54
West Dome, in the former cryo-lab-
He had one job: stay alive for eight more hours, playing host to a load of gene-doctored viruses. Okay… two jobs. Still should have been able to do eight hours standing on his head. Except, he didn't feel good. Sore, tired, cold and weak. Coughing blood, too, which he tried to hide from Brains and the rest… but maybe they'd figured that out.
One last "rescue", one last way to help, and all he had to do was not die for eight… six, now… six more hours. To distract himself, John Tracy talked a little with those skinny-tall scarecrow people. They kept bringing him presents; shy little offerings and quick, light touches. He drank that weirdly sweet "coffee" of theirs. He listened as Brains described the local situation (new adjective required: triple-plus un-good). He learnt a string game like cat's cradle, where the figures made were "wind", "sun" and "Star". Taught "Rock, Paper, Scissors", in return. Didn't want to eat… stomach hurt… but they kept bringing him long-hoarded food, including what had to be the world's oldest can of pears. How could he say no to the last fruit on Earth?
Deliberately tried very hard not to keep track of the time, but Brains would come periodically to check his vital signs and scan him for pathogen levels, white blood cell count… that kind of thing. Couldn't help noticing that, and then estimating how much longer he had left to go.
Would have liked very much to see Captain O'Bannon, again, and his family. Eos, space… lots of stuff. But you play the hand you're dealt, best way you know how. Got harder, at the end, not to… not fall… asleep.
XXXXXXXXXXX
London's collapsing GDF Tower hospital-
Charlie looked at him for confirmation. Got a quick nod in reply. Then the kid's power struck again, covering the cop and his service dog, too. The shock waves and blast grew lower in pitch, slower in speed, while chunks of falling masonry, cracking stairs, simply hung in midair. The peace officer's blue eyes were huge.
"No time to explain, Sir," Gordon told him. "Follow me, we're getting out of here!" And then, shifting his grip on a very still, seated statue of 'Anton' Dos Santos, Gordon took off running downstairs. That dog had to push its stunned partner to get him moving, but soon the helmeted officer was right there, keeping pace.
Weirdest marathon of Gordon's life; weaving between doors that were blown off their hinges and frozen in midflight, with columns of petrified flame right behind them. Found out the hard way that touching those doors, or running into the time-locked, airborne debris, frickin' hurt.
Scratch that. Not completely time-locked. The hospital's destruction was taking place in real time; they were just very much faster. Gordon could do it, and for Charlie maybe an eyeblink took place. Even the dog was okay. The cop soon began having trouble, though; like running a fiery, collapsing obstacle course and gasping that hot, molten air was too much for the guy.
Once again, in the back of his mind, Gordon heard Havok call him a "Special", one of those urban myth bio-weapons, but he rejected the notion. Took hold of the struggling officer's arm, instead, shouting,
"Just a little bit further, Sir! Don't give up, now!" Poor guy had blood streaming out of his ears and nose.
The bottom floor was worst of all, and the last they had to negotiate. Way more junk in the air, here, plus shock waves like a physical wall. Like a bone-jarring, slow-motion punch. It was mostly dark and jammed with debris, with only the glow of those petrified flame-gouts to steer by.
He saw one of the actual bombs at the end of the stairwell, with its cloud of slowly expanding shrapnel and its hideous, hell-blossom light. Skirted it, almost dragging the policeman, who looked close to done-in. Saw an emergency exit at last, and shoved the guy at it, yelling,
"That way, Sir… Charlie 'll drop you, a few yards outside! Keep running!"
The officer dredged up the strength to nod and then muscle that door open, staggering out with his scorch-furred dog. For himself, all Gordon could think of was Rigby, still in the O-Club refrigerator, maybe. Wasn't fair to risk Charlie, but people were going to die, unless…
Saw statues. A herd of them, just ahead. Six… Cody and Janice, plus the Club people… were facing the door, running flat out. Two were in mid-turn, coming his way: Kayo and Rigby (patched up, with maybe some help from Beech). He had to stop them from going back in, so Gordon tapped Charlie's arm a few times. The world partly unfroze in response; still sort of slow, but more in pace with the others. Gordon almost bowled right into Kayo and her out-of-his-depth Marine. And somehow, everyone yelling, everyone grabbing for everyone else, they got out alive.
XXXXXXXXXXX
West Dome-
Brains drew all of the blood that he could. Then, handing the precious substance to Moffy, he sheeted his friend. There was no time to mourn, although his heart had clenched to a hard, small kernel; locked up and harbouring grief.
As the natives gathered around that makeshift life support station, keening their odd little cries, as Sheffield and Pope stood silently, uncomfortably by, Brains and Moffy separated the blood, using a handmade "rocker". As soon as the plasma was ready, he lined up the sorrowing folk… Kaise first of all… and began injecting them. No one flinched. Everyone thanked him. Then, there was nothing to do but watch and wait.
Eventually, Caleb and Kaise went out to the playground, because it was kind of intense in there, and he needed a break. Didn't know if the cure was working or not, but Caleb had faith in his little gene-guys, and John Tracy's blood. 'Cause… y'know, it had to work. Dude couldn't have given it all up for nothing. That wouldn't be fair.
Kaise was the one chattering, now. Trying to, anyway, as she sat beside him on a really old bench swing, clinging like a first-time trapeze artist without any net. Might've been a trick of the light, but her colour was good.
"I am to having my own sleep-and-live soon, Cabe," she told him. "A place-me."
Caleb grinned at her, scuffing his foot on the concrete floor to keep the swing going.
"Movin' out, huh? That's cool, Babe. Sometimes, you just gotta spread your wings and ditch the 'rents. Got a place picked out, yet?" There were certainly plenty to choose from. Kaise brightened, nodding eagerly.
"It is being many feet from the place-home, with even grass in between! I am being responsible, with no-fall, no-hurt, for three cycles. They are to trusting me far."
"Look at you," congratulated the dark-haired young man. "Nuking your own meals, watching TV all night, the works. It's gonna be great. I know the future... Totally third-eye woke, Babe. And, the next thing you know, you'll be…"
What? There were no more people her age, here, and even if the cure worked, and kids came along, they'd all be too young for Kaise. But,
"Finding a work," she finished his sentence, sounding quite proud. "I am thinking now, what is being the best for me to do, for the people and West Dome."
Caleb started to answer. Then, looking past the girl at that high, curving dome, he said,
"Hey, um… Casey, is it supposed to be doing that?"
Following his worried glance, Kaise looked upward and back. The dome's perma-glass had gone all weird and lacy, like it was covered in frost… or beginning to break. Worse yet, that God-awful, saw-toothed dust seemed to be pouring itself into the network of cracks. A high-tension, groaning creak filled the still air; the same sound that river ice makes, when beginning to thaw. Kaise seized Caleb's hand, her face changing.
"We must be to going inside, Cabe," she whispered, leaning forward without much caution, at all. "We must be to telling Sharl, and the Speaker."
Because here, at the end of all things, the last dome had finally cracked. Together, they got up and ran.
XXXXXXXXXX
There was a deep-armoured underground shelter, and most of the people gathered there; quietly, without undue panic. Not Brains, though. Placing a quick, fevered kiss on Vanessa's forehead, he said,
"No. I c- cannot let this happen. Not when there is, ah... is one l- last chance to be taken. M- Moffy, I love you. In one way or another, I shall b- be back for you all."