The glass container full of Clements-13 smashes upon contact. Strangely, that surprises me. I was expecting it to bounce. I knew that it should shatter, but the pessimist within me didn’t think it would.
The red liquid splashes across the floor. No fumes rise from it. There are no crackling or hissing sounds. It’s the same as if some paint had been spilled.
But everyone who sees it stops fighting. Those farther back battle on, unaware of what’s happened. Soldiers continue to fire their weapons. Mutants and babies pile forward. Screams echo through the air. But those who saw the vial break know that something major has changed. The war has been decided. The battle for control of this planet has come to an abrupt end.
Mr. Dowling and Dr. Oystein stop clawing at one another. The clown staggers away from his brother, staring at the crimson liquid as it’s absorbed by the dust on the floor. He reaches out, dabs a finger into the small pool, then touches it to his tongue, before falling onto his bum and sitting there, blinking like a confused child.
Dr. Oystein pushes himself to his feet and sways drunkenly, fixated on the broken glass and the liquid. Then he looks at me.
“I’m sorry,” I croak. “But I had to do it. You were wrong. The living must always be given another chance.”
Dr. Oystein shakes his head slowly, awfully, and I feel wretched for the way I betrayed him, even though I had no choice.
“B…” Dr. Oystein whispers, his voice gargly with blood.
“I hope you can forgive me,” I moan. “We’ve got a week or two before it kills us. We can try to do good and help the living prepare for the takeover. I know you didn’t want this, but there’s no going back, so we might as well make the best of it, work together again one last time. Right?”
“B…” Dr. Oystein repeats weakly.
And then he does something that strikes a cold stake through the space where my heart once nestled, fills me with dread and makes me suspect that all is not as done and dusted as I thought.
He smiles.