There was this muted silence about the place. Especially when he clicked past the images and over to the samples. He knew the solution he’d settled on—the solution he and his team had worked on for years—was reliable. He knew it was the answer. He’d seen it, over and over again, in test after test after test.
But it was brutal. It meant making a major, major sacrifice. It meant blood on his hands.
The blood of the many, for the future of the few.
He clicked further through the results when he found Jaan’s report. It was from Blackpool, the first site of the test.
Those harrowing words stared back at him.
Est Total Pop: 112
Deceased: 84
Survived: 28
Doctor Watkinson swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew the figures were bound to be in favour of the dead. After all, there were far more asymptomatic carriers of the virus than people realised. That was the beauty of it; the way it survived. Transmission between healthy individuals, reanimation after death. It wasn’t like any ordinary virus. Unlike most viruses, which thrived on their own survival, this virus—HB938—would not stop until it infected everyone, until there was nobody left to infect.
It would not stop until it found a way to bypass everyone’s defences.
And when it did, it would swallow itself whole and drag itself down into oblivion, settling in the permafrost until many thousands of years later, humanity’s successors—whoever they were—would stumble upon it too, and fall in the same way.
It happened with the dinosaurs. Happened with the Neanderthals. The discovery of HB938 and its evolution over time had truly rewritten the history books.
The only problem?
Nobody was going to be left to write them.
Nobody was going to be left to send out a warning.
HB938 was the true constant in this world. Not humanity. HB938 was Mother Earth’s dearest, most successful child.
But now, staring at this screen, staring at the results, Doctor Watkinson knew he had an answer.
He knew he had an opportunity.
He knew he had a chance to exorcise the demon of this virus and rewrite the path going forward, once and for all.
Footsteps behind him. He turned around, saw Commander Jenkins standing there. Commander Jenkins was a tall, imposing figure. A classic army type. Wore his full gear. Straight backed, impeccable posture. Mean face. Always intimidated Doctor Watkinson a little.
He looked at Doctor Watkinson, and neither of them even had to say a word about why he was here. They both knew. They both understood the significance of this, the significance of their discovery.
It was Commander Jenkins who broke the silence. “What are your orders?”
Doctor Watkinson flushed. He looked around the office. Saw the eyes of his fellow scientists rise and look over at him. Their pale, sun-starved faces. The alopecia and the hair loss in full flow. The dark circles. The years and years of stress.
And the knowledge that this could be the end for them, too.
Feasibly, this could be where it ended.
But it was all for the best.
It was all for the greater good.
He looked across the labs. Over towards the production centre, which worked away silently, underwater, hidden from view of humanity. The true source of power in the globe, like so many stations of their kind.
He swallowed a lump in his throat and thought of the life he could’ve had. A wife. Children, two preferably. A nice little suburban home. Barbecues and holidays.
But this was the life he’d chosen. A scientist was the way he’d chosen to live.
And it was how he’d die.
He looked back at Commander Jenkins, thought about the results they’d got from their Russian friends, and took a deep breath. “Give the order,” he said.
Commander Jenkins’ eyes widened. Almost like he didn’t expect it. A rare slip in his composure.
“Are—are you sure, Doctor?”
Doctor Watkinson felt the weight of the world on his shoulders—literally.
He felt the hands of humanity stretching up towards him, begging for mercy.
He felt the history of this planet shifting, all with this decision.
He just hoped it was the right one.
“Yes,” he said. “Give the order. We start with Britain. We monitor. And then we move on.”
“Move on?” Commander Jenkins said.
Doctor Watkinson nodded. “It’s time testing ended. It’s time we moved on to Phase Two.”
Jenkins went pale. He opened his mouth like he was about to cut in and say something.
And then he just closed his lips and nodded.
“Understood.”
He turned around, walked out of the office area, and left Doctor Watkinson alone with the prying eyes of his fellow scientists.
It didn’t feel like it, in this underwater lab off the British coast.
But right there, with Doctor Watkinson’s words, everything changed.
Chapter Forty-Two
Noah walked back towards Kelly’s and the industrial estate when he suddenly got a sense that something wasn’t quite right.
He couldn’t explain it. Just a taste. A heightened sense of reactivity. He knew humans had evolved to detect dangers, and no doubt that evolution had grown even further in a short period of time. After all, there were threats out there. So many different kinds of threats. Stood to reason that humans’ inner warning systems were pretty much raging these days—and about legitimate safety fears, too. Not just the false warnings that the anxieties of the old world used to produce.
He looked around at the woods on the left. At the abandoned cars dragged over to the side of this main road on the right. The road cleared and emptied otherwise. The occasional ancient plastic bottle of smashed pieces of glass peppering the cracked concrete.
He didn’t hear anything but the wind against the trees. Didn’t see any movement but the birds.
He was probably just overreacting. Probably just worried about any potential loss or setback, especially now he felt alive again; like he had a purpose again.
He walked further down this road, cracking on. He just wanted to get to the industrial estate now. He’d spent so long hiding from the thought of being around other people because he was just so afraid he might bring trouble to
