“Save…” Clare’s mouth was dry. She thought she could hear it again: the scratching and scrabbling, like the noise of a thousand creatures clawing at the base of the tower.
Peter’s shoulders sagged as he exhaled. He looked at his feet, his fingers interlaced but held limply so that they drooped. “I knew Ezra. He wasn’t trying to… make this. He really, truly thought he was saving humanity. Free healthcare for third-world countries. Salvation for the terminally ill. He wasn’t doing it for the glory. He did it because he believed it was what the world needed.”
Lightning sparked through the slats in the blinds, streaking across the floor. Clare knew she was holding Dorran’s hand too tightly. “What did he do?”
“He called them thanites. That’s from the Greek thávma. Miracle. They activated our own stem cells and were supposed to regrow and repair anything that had been damaged. Teeth. Lost limbs. Surgically removed organs. Dementia. Anything.”
Clare blinked, and she saw the waking nightmare she’d been living in. All of the hollows they had encountered. Excess skin. Excess limbs. Too many joints. Painfully human, yet so desperately removed from their humanity.
“It went wrong. It wasn’t supposed to leave the lab. But it got out, somehow. On the sole of a shoe. On the hem of a lab coat. Somehow, one of the thanites was taken out of isolation, and once outside, it did what it was designed to do. It began to multiply.”
In the distance, Clare thought she heard one of the creatures wail. She squeezed her eyes closed.
“Ezra didn’t realise.” Peter rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes in a quick, angry motion. “The thanites were small enough to be invisible. Designed to be dormant until activated. Without anyone knowing, they spread and spread and spread. From what I’ve calculated, it would have taken them about two months to populate the entire globe. Blown over oceans by the wind. Carried in airplanes. They are attracted to, and utilise, compounds that humans breathe out. They need carbons to grow, and those exist everywhere, but the thanites are designed to flourish in a human-heavy environment by utilising metabolite combinations that are unique to us. That meant the thanites naturally clustered in places where humans lived—cities, towns, and communities. Then, nearly a month ago, they were activated.”
Lightning exploded directly over them, and the following thunder was deafening. She tried to reel her thoughts back in. When the stillness caught up to her, she’d been just inside Banksy Forest, an area far secluded from human habitation. Dorran would have been near the forest’s other side, having left his family’s caravan hours before. They had both grazed dangerously close to thanite exposure. “So… Dorran and I weren’t affected… because we were in a remote area when it happened. Because there weren’t any people around, and that meant there weren’t any machines in the air to infect us, either.”
Peter’s smile was sad. “Are you hurt? I can see a bandage on your shoulder.”
Clare glanced down at it. The off-white bandages, still damp, were visible under the lab coat. She licked her lips. “What—”
“Take the bandage off.”
“I don’t—”
Peter’s smile remained unchangeable. “Just take the bandage off.”
Slowly, numb fingers fighting against the movement, Clare pulled at the tape edging the bandages and peeled off the material. Underneath were red marks left by hollow teeth. The skin had knit together and begun to scar.
“That’s, what? A few days old?” Peter tilted his head to the side, and Clare was suddenly hit by the impression that his smile was empty, devoid of any feeling. “Normal cuts don’t heal that fast. You didn’t escape the thanites. No one did.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Clare could barely hear the storm through the ringing in her ears. She stood. The impulse to run was overwhelming, but there was nowhere to run to. Sickly heat rushed through her. She staggered to the bin and threw up.
Shaking, sweaty, she reeled back from plastic container and was caught by warm arms. Dorran held her up even when her legs wouldn’t.
She turned her head and saw the marks on her shoulder. A frantic terror gripped her. She dug her fingernails into the healing skin. “Get them out.”
“Clare!” Dorran grabbed her hands, pulling them away.
Blood beaded in the cut she’d re-opened, but it wasn’t enough. She thrashed, trying to break free from Dorran’s hold. “Get them out! Get them out!”
The hollows were all she could see. Saliva slick over distended jaws. Eyes missing lids. Ribs poking through their sides, rubbing against raw flesh with every movement. It was coming for her.
“Get them out!” Her hand was slick with blood, and she wrenched it out of Dorran’s. She twisted just far enough that he couldn’t capture it again then began digging.
“No!” Dorran slammed her into the ground. He lay over her, using his weight to pin her, holding her hands at her sides.
The impact was rough enough to shake some of the wildness free. Clare lay still, face pressed against Dorran’s shoulder, shaking violently as she struggled to breathe. The pain in her shoulder began to make itself felt. She scrunched her face up, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears.
Peter swore quietly. She heard him jog across the room and open a closet.
“Clare.” Dorran waited a second then shuffled up, resting his weight on his elbows so that he could look down at her. “Focus on me.”
She didn’t think she could speak, so she nodded.
Dark eyes flicked to her shoulder then returned to search her face. “If I let you up, will you leave it alone?”
Another nod. Shame was coming in to mingle with the horror. Dorran waited for another second then loosened
