Monster Nation(101)

'The girl,' Clark said, still kneeling on the infirmary floor. He could feel his calves ping as they complained about their cut-off circulation. 'What does she have to do with all this?'

'Surprisingly little. God am I sick of hearing about Nilla! My new boss is obsessed with her, too. What is it, the blonde hair? The tits? No, Bannerman, she's just a pawn in this game. A pawn that everyone thinks is a queen. Fuck her, alright? Let's stay on-message here.' The Civilian smiled warmly at him. 'I like you, Bannerman. I like you a lot.'

'I' like you, too,' Clark tried, warily.

The Civilian pulled away the chair that had been barring the door to the ICU. The door slid open silently and snicked against the magnet on the far wall, sealing itself open. The smell of blood and death billowed out of the enclosed room. 'No you don't. Nobody likes me, and with good reason. I'm an *. Because I had to be, to help preserve, you know, freedom. My country needed me to be an *. You, on the other hand, are likeable. You're honest, and dependable, and smart, and you try to do your best, always. That's so commendable. No way am I going to just throw away a resource like that. So I'm going to take you with me, as my servant or something. I'm even going to hook you up to a respirator when I kill you to make sure you don't lose that beautiful brain of yours. Not all of it, anyway. I can't really let you be smarter than me, that wouldn't make a lot of sense. You'll probably experience some slurred speech and'wow'no more operating heavy machinery for you, but you won't be one of these drooling slobs you see all over, either, and that's something. So come on. I have the bed all ready for you'the respirator's hooked into the emergency power. We're going to live forever, Bannerman. You and me, side by side, wonk and wonklord.' The Civilian stepped out of the ICU and held out a hand for Clark to take.

'No, no, I don't think that's going to happen,' Clark said, slowly rising to his feet, shaking out his numb legs.

The Civilian rolled his eyes and lifted one hand as if he planned on choking Clark from afar. Before he could use his power Vikram Singh Nanda shot him twice in the back of the head. The Civilian collapsed in a tangle of limbs, completely dead.

There was a good reason why the flanking maneuver was considered a classic.

'Are you alright?' Vikram asked, picking up Clark's pistol from where it had fallen when the Civilian dropped it.

'I'm fine.' He looked down at the corpse between them. 'Thanks.' It was all he needed to say, for the time being. He stepped over the body and into the ICU. The equipment there looked ready to use, just as the Civilian had promised. Clark ignored the waiting hospital bed and found a security terminal. He paged through the menus and re-activated the emergency lockdown. An error message appeared when the screen refreshed.

***INVALID OR OUTDATED PASSWORD ENTERED***

He tried again but he hadn't made a mistake, he knew it. The Civilian had changed the password and it had died with him. There was no way to shut the ten thousand doors.

Clark flipped open his cell phone and called Horrocks. The phone rang twelve times before it was answered.

'Sir,' Horrocks reported, 'I'm pinned down in a sally port and we're seeing heavy action right now, we have'have'please hold on a second, sir.' Clark heard gunshots on the other end. 'I have taken significant casualties. I cannot hold this section of the D Wing for very much longer, sir.'

'I want you to break contact as possible,' Clark ordered. 'We've lost too much time. I want you to retreat to the roof, to the helipad. We're going to abandon the facility. I will see you there and provide further orders when we arrive.' He ended the call once Horrocks had confirmed the order and turned to face Vikram.

'I suppose we should get out of here before the walking dead show up.'

Vikram agreed.

The malignancy'oh, for the days when I could call it a 'neoplasm' with a straight face!'is like a football now, or some horrible fetus growing inside her. Some nights while she's sedated I place a hand on its smooth edge and imagine I can feel it kicking. I've been working for so long with no result' I should take a break. [Lab Notes, 8/17/04]

A dead girl, maybe fifteen years old, pushed down the hall, one side pressed up tight against the cream-painted cinder blocks. She left a trail of blood from behind her, blood which had soaked through her hair, ruined her clothes. She didn't seem to care.

Nilla balled her hands into fists and then let go of them again. The pain in her left hand'she wondered if she'd broken it while getting out of her manacles'brought her into perfect focus. Time to take stock.