Sam

The little shit has just pushed the only person who can save his life down a fucking hill.

I get through Lumora’s gate before it closes and take the radio off my belt.

‘Two people, round the other side of the railway. Get ahead of him on the road.’

‘Richards, get yourself cleaned up,’ Steve says over the radio. ‘We’ve got—’

‘Don’t chase him through the herd. He can get himself killed without our help.’

There’s blood on the radio. I’ve been feeling the back of my head, and now I can’t remember whether the blood on my fingers came from there or my hand. Steve starts explaining what his men are doing. Whatever it is, he thinks they should keep doing it.

‘We can’t keep sending people out because you’ve had a disagreement.’

‘Do you understand what we’ve just let walk away? And a fucking useless walk at that. He won’t make it a hundred yards before getting tetanus and keeling over. All those things out there learning to kill us without touching us and he’ll finish himself off on a nail. We need to secure him to protect him from himself more than anything.’

The inner entrance lets me into the wash. There are usually men on the other side of the glass watching me do this. Nobody there now. Steve must have sent them somewhere.

‘Where are all your men, Steve?’

I stand there being disinfected while he tells me what it would take to get two men outside.

‘Then take them off the gate. Nothing’s coming here. They’re going to the pool, which is what I’ve been trying to—put someone at the next junction. He wants to choose where he goes. Fine. Give him a road with two men at the end of it.’

Water runs down my neck and stings.

I press the button again. ‘Alive. Tell them that before you tell them he’s infected.’

I release it. The radio crackles. ‘They’re not idiots,’ Steve says.

I hold the button down. ‘Good. He can explain what it’s like on the way back. And before you start, this isn’t about the fucking hill. There’s something in him stopping the infection from taking over. We find it, we work out how to give it to other people. That’s how we stop this. I had him talking, Steve. Answering questions. He’s the best hope we’ve got, which is fucking depressing, but there it is. Get me Tom. I can do this.’

My thumb aches. I’ve been pressing harder as if that will help. I let go and wait for Steve. He doesn’t answer.

Tom would prefer to be called a patient. They usually do, until you need something a patient can refuse.

The wash stops. I go through to the stairs.

‘He’ll tell them I’m a liar. Best they know that before he starts. Yes, I lied. He’s alive to complain. I’d call that a successful intervention.’

‘Come down to lower containment, Richards. I need you to listen to something.’

‘I need you to listen to me. Has anyone actually gone after him?’

‘They’ll bring him in.’

The end rises, almost a question. My thumb hesitates on the button, then I think of Tom demanding an apology from two armed men.

‘Don’t let him make them feel guilty. He’ll have them carrying his fucking bag.’

I take the stairs slowly. My ankle holds until I bend it. Below the landing the radio starts to hiss. The walls down here block a signal; a powered relay carries our calls up to Control. It needs resetting more often than anything this far underground should.

‘If this is about the radio, get maintenance. I’m not explaining an off switch to a man with a gun.’

‘The subject’s speaking.’

‘The Milk?’

Tom’s got me calling them that now.

‘Richards, it isn’t—’

‘I know it’s not milk, for fuck’s sake. I helped invent the stuff. It’s a catchy name. Now, speaking how? Mimicking? Because if you’ve called me down here to hear it repeat something you’ve just said—’

‘Nobody said it first.’

I stop with my bad foot on the step above.

Martin. We caught him down by the wreck, on the Vault side. He spotted the men further along the track and doubled back through a carriage. Sensible. There was someone at the other end, but he couldn’t have known that. I’d been pleased with him. He’d looked, understood, tried something that might have worked.

We got Martin through the gate. Tom pushed me down a hill. I keep wanting there to have been more to it, something clever I missed.

Martin’s been alone in the same room ever since. Nothing new to feed on. If he’s answering us, I need to know what he understands before somebody teaches him what they want to hear.

‘Don’t give it anything to copy. Just leave it talking. I’m coming.’

He hasn’t been near the pool. If he’s changing too, we’ve been watching the wrong place. I want the recordings, every shift, even the ones where nothing happened. Particularly those. By the last door I’m almost pleased, until I lean against the wall to get my key out and it hurts.

Steve is visible through the window, beside the observation glass. I let myself into the inspection room.

‘Right. Nobody say anything for a minute. Including you.’

Martin’s door is open.

There’s a wet patch under Steve’s boot, spreading from his trouser leg. He’s looking into the room. He doesn’t acknowledge me.

‘Steve. Get away from there.’

‘You need to get yourself cleaned up, Richards.’

His voice comes from the radio in my hand. I’m watching his face in profile. Nothing moves. His own radio is on the desk, the battery beside it.

I back through the door and drag it shut. The bolt catches. I pull the isolation switch. Bolts drop in the stair door behind me and the ventilation stops. So does the relay. Whatever’s talking can’t reach Control now.

I pull at the door to check it’s caught. Steel between us, thick glass at eye level. Steve is exactly where I left him. He hasn’t turned to watch me go.

‘We should upstairs.’

My radio again. His voice, missing a piece.

‘Steve. I’m on the other side of the door. Turn your head. Look at me.’

He keeps looking into Martin’s room.

‘Go upstairs.’

Sharp enough to make me angry. I’m frightened and he’s telling me off, except he isn’t doing anything. His arms hang at his sides. There’s white fluid in the split of his lower lip.

Martin walks out behind him. Upright, shoulders back. He steps round the desk without knocking it and comes to stand beside Steve. White matter has dried down his shirt. He looks through the glass at me as if he’s waiting to be introduced.

‘We should go upstairs.’

Steve’s voice softens on should. Almost apologetic. Martin watches me. Steve doesn’t. I move to the left and Martin’s eyes follow.

‘All right. We can talk about upstairs. First I need you to step away from Steve.’

‘We each should go upstairs.’

Each comes out too loud. Upstairs rises at the end. Martin watches me through the silence afterwards.

I change channels.

‘We should go upstairs.’

Go gets the weight this time. I turn the volume down. The voice gets quieter. Neither mouth moves. I do it again, up and down, watching them, making absolutely certain before I let myself believe it.

‘Martin. You remember Martin? That’s you. I’m Sam. I brought you here.’

His head tilts.

‘We should go upstairs.’

That one is almost right. Steve on a long shift, humouring me because he wants his dinner. I’m listening for him now. Come on. Call me Richards. Tell me I’m being an arsehole. Something I can answer.

Martin watches my face. It has Steve’s voice. Whether it still needs Steve for that, I don’t know. I want him to move so badly I nearly ask again.

‘Stay there,’ I say. ‘Do that for me and we’ll work something out.’

The emergency release is beside my hand. My key will open the route to the stairs. It releases the whole suite together, to get everyone out in a fire.

I can leave.

Martin looks at my hand as I reach towards it.

Both doors would open. He’d be behind me before I could close either, and the men at the top would hear Steve asking them to let us through.

‘We should go upstairs.’

I keep the key in my hand. I could be through the stair door in seconds. I could close it behind me, probably, if my ankle held and Martin stayed where he was. I’m already leaving Steve out of it. That’s how good the plan is.

‘I need time to think.’

Then the emergency power ticks on.

‘Control to lower containment. Do you need us to open up?’

I reach for the wall handset. Martin watches me lift it.

I don’t think I can stop this. I keep looking at Steve, waiting to see something I know how to fix, and his voice is getting better while I stand here.

‘No. Leave us sealed. Nothing comes out of lower containment.’

‘Richards, we can—’

‘It can use the radio. It sounds like Steve. It’ll ask you to open the doors and you’ll want to, because it’s him. It isn’t. Whatever voice you hear, leave us sealed. Mine included. Disconnect the relay upstairs. Now.’

A pause, then a click. The handset goes dead against my ear.

‘We should go upstairs,’ my radio says.

I put the handset back. My key still works. I could let them into the stairwell, hammer on the next door and make somebody else decide what to do with us.

I put it in my pocket.

‘We’re staying here.’

Martin watches me. There’s no food on this side of the door. No water. I’ve just told the people who might bring me some not to believe a word I say. I’ll have to remember that when I start asking.

I turn off the radio and sit down with my back against the wall. My ankle hurts less like this.

Tom will never know. He’ll get to think pushing me down that hill was a good idea for the rest of his stupid fucking life.

‘Fuck you, Tom.’