Standing by the entrance to the Jenner building, Jessica looks first at me, then at Other Me. She blinks hard and then says, “You…you disappeared for a second just then. Are you…are you a ghost or something? I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
Just for a second.
This future thing is weird.
Her gaze flicks between me and Other Me. But for all the urgency that’s crowding in on me, I feel my brain clearing and I’m thinking straight again.
“No, I’m not a ghost. But…I know it’s weird. It’s weird for us all. Listen, Jessica—this Georgie will explain. Right now, I need to get to your lab and get a sample of the CBE medicine—the cure.”
Jessica looks at me blankly.
“The cure,” I repeat. “It does exist, doesn’t it?”
Please don’t say no.
“Yes, of course it does,” snaps Jessica. “Only it’s…it’s highly classified. The formula is protected by—”
“I don’t need the formula,” I say, thinking of when I swallowed the piece of peach. “I just need…a vial or something. Preferably quite small?”
“Well, we have that, in the lab,” says Jessica, “but I don’t see how—”
“Let me worry about that,” I say, and it comes out sounding much more confident than I feel inside.
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t just walk in and help yourself to the drugs in the lab. It wouldn’t be…”
Dammit, I should have rehearsed this. Jessica’s whole expression is dumbstruck, and I can’t blame her.
“The cure! I need the cure. For CBE. Dog Plague!” I’m desperate. No one is moving—they’re both just staring at me. “Now!”
“Look here, young lady,” says Jessica. “I have no idea at all just what on earth is going on. But if you think for one minute that—”
“Mum!” says Other Me at last. “Mum! Just this once, you’ve got to believe me. You know all that stuff with Dr. Pretorius, and the dome, and everything? Last year?”
Jessica narrows her eyes in response. “How could I forget?” she says drily.
“It was true. You have to believe me. Believe us!”
At that moment, I feel a cold, wet nose against my hand, and look down to see Mr. Mash. Here. In the future. Goodness knows what he can actually see—nothing, probably, because for him the dome is in total darkness, and everything I can see is generated by my bicycle helmet, and he isn’t wearing one. But he can smell me, and he licks my hand.
Other Me has sunk to her knees, tears streaming down her face now. “Oh, Mashie!” she wails as he approaches her and lets her scratch his ears. Jessica is just shaking her head in utter disbelief.
“Th-that’s Mr. Mash?” she croaks. “But he…he’s…”
“Now do you believe me?” says Other Me through her sobs. “I’ll explain it more later. Right now, we haven’t got long—am I right, er…Georgie?”
“What? Eh?” Everything’s so strange, and everything is coming at me at once, so that my head feels like it’s buffering the overload of information, including that Other Me and Jessica seem to have a different relationship to the one I have with her. And now Other Me is asking me a question.
I look at my phone. “Nine minutes.” And then I look over Other Me’s shoulder and my stomach freezes. Marching across the lawn toward us are four…no, five, six…loads of them…
Giant scorpions, heading straight for us, with the biggest—Buster—in the lead.
“Oh no,” I murmur. “They’re back.”
Other Me turns round and her face freezes in pure terror.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no! I’ve had nightmares about them for months.”
“What the heck are they?” Jessica gasps.
“Giant multisensory VR scorpions,” I say, and I can anticipate her next question. “Yes, they attack. They can see you, and they’re super smart. Can you distract them?”
“Can they hurt us?” says Other Me.
“I don’t know, but they can definitely hurt me. Remember outside the shop when Buster stung me? They’re smarter now, and they’ve cloned themselves.”
They’re getting closer. Other Me turns to Jessica. “Mum, if you ever, ever needed to trust me, it’s right now. Do what Georgie says. It’s time for me to be as brave as her.” She turns to face the scorpions. “Hey, you big bullies! Come and get me!”
And with that she starts walking toward them. I try to protest, to say, “Georgie, stop!” but the words freeze in my mouth. Because it’s working. The scorpions stop and turn slightly, their attention distracted by Other Me.
“What is she doing?” shrieks Jessica.
“We have eight minutes. Come with me now!” I grab Jessica by the wrist and drag her round the corner of the building to the entrance, hissing, “We’ve just got to go for it!”
As we round the corner, the bored-looking soldier, now on his own, looks up at Jessica and nods in recognition. She walks past him and hurries across the marble floor to the lab. Then to me, he says, “Identification. Hey! You can’t bring your dog in ’ere—it’s a medical facility!”
But I don’t wait. “Not my dog, sorry,” I say as Mr. Mash trots past the soldier and into the building, stopping to sniff the statue of Edward Jenner and trotting on down the long corridor toward the lab.
The soldier has blocked my way. “I need to see your ID,” he says. He’s being more aggressive, but he’s only a couple years older than Clem. That realization makes me bolder.
“Sorry, I left it in the lab,” I say.
“Don’t care. No one gets in ’ere without official identification.”
Over his shoulder I can see a person walking toward us, his bowlegged pace even more obvious than ever. “Jackson!” I shout. He grins and holds up his hand in greeting, unaware of the urgency of the situation.
“You’ve got to help me,” I say to him. “I…I’ve lost my ID.”
Jackson is level with us now and gives an apologetic smile. “Well, if it were down to me, Miss Santos, it wouldn’t be a problem. But you know how it is now.” He jerks his thumb at the young soldier. Then he looks at me quizzically.
“Is something wrong, Georgie?”
“Yes, Jackson!” I’m practically screaming. “Everything’s wrong, and I’m trying to put it right, but I’ve only got a few minutes.” I remember what Other Me said to Jessica before. Mum. “If you ever, ever believed me, believe me now, on the life of my mum, I swear, Jackson, you have to…”
I think it’s the mention of my mum that does it. Jackson holds up his hand as though he’s swearing an oath.
“I’ll vouch for her, Private. That’s Georgina Santos.”
The soldier curls his lip and sneers. “Listen, old man. I don’t care if she’s the queen of…Oh my God, what is that?”
We follow his gaze. Running toward us from around the corner is Other Me, pursued by countless scorpions of all sizes, still led by Buster.
“Out of the way!” Other Me screams. “Let me in!”
There’s no stopping her. She has only about a ten-yard lead on the scorpions, and there are more of them now. Lots more.
The soldier says nothing but moves aside from the doorway and cocks his gun, shouting into a radio attached to his collar.
“Guard Station Two Eighteen! Two Eighteen! Request immediate backup. Repeat: immediate backup. Situation critical!”
There’s a burst of deafening gunfire, aimed at the scorpions, as Other Me, fear etched on her face, draws level with us and gasps, “Shut the door! Quick!”
The soldier turns to us and yells, “Do as she says! I’ll deal with them!” and opens fire again. A couple of the scorpions crash to the ground, leaking black stuff. Still the rest of the shiny black horde advances and he yells into his radio again: “Giant scorpions, sir! Thousands of ’em!”
They are now so near I can smell them: a rank, acidic smell. They’re so closely packed that their hard shells are scraping against each other, and before the door slams shut I shout out to the soldier, “Come back in—they’ll kill you!” but he’s still firing: bang, bang, bang, bang-bang-bang.
There are loud, unearthly screams coming from the dying scorpions as they’re hit, but still others advance. There are just too many for one gun and, as the door slams shut, the last thing I see is the young soldier kicking out at Buster before disappearing under a wave of shiny black, swearing and groaning.
Alerted by the gunfire, Jessica is running toward us from down the corridor, shouting, “What’s going on?”
Mr. Mash stands in the middle of the marble floor, his feet slightly splayed, the hackles on his back standing up in anger. Other Me is leaning with her back against the double doors, panting hard. The scorpions are scratching at the doors.
“Georgie!” screams Jessica. “Get away from there!”
“They’re…they’re going to get in. Somehow. They’re strong and smart,” Other Me gasps. I remember what Dr. Pretorius told us about how quickly they could learn.
“My time’s running out,” I say. “I’ve got to get to the lab!”
“Jackson. Can you help?” says Other Me. Jackson is looking between the two of us, trying to work out why he’s seeing double.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “We’ll explain later.” Then I scream as a black scorpion leg smashes through the glass pane of the door. “They’re getting in! Come now!” I grab Other Me’s hand and run toward Jessica and the laboratory corridor.
I turn back to see Jackson clambering onto the Jenner statue, lugging a large fire extinguisher behind him. From outside comes rapid gunfire as more soldiers arrive. Another glass pane smashes loudly, and seconds later, a scorpion the size of a cat drops to the marble floor and starts scuttling toward the statue.
“Good luck!” I shout.
Our shoes squeak on the marble, and Mr. Mash is ahead of us, his claws going click-clack on the floor. He’s staying close to me, even though he can’t see me. To our left is the familiar long window showing the laboratory with its robots and conveyors and endless computer screens.
The scorpions are now streaming through the windows, dozens and dozens of them, their feet a hideous cacophony of clattering and clicking, scuttling and rattling along the stone floor, their tails quivering and aggressive, their acrid smell catching in my throat.
“Get the lab door!” shouts Other Me.
Jessica is swiping her security pass at the laboratory door’s entrance control, but she’s doing it too fast and pushing at the same time. Meanwhile, there are scorpions massing round the plinth bearing the statue of Edward Jenner, and Jackson is standing in Jenner’s lap, aiming jets of fire-extinguisher foam at any of the creatures that try to scrabble up the stone base.
“Go on! Get off, ye little devils! Take that!”
Then I see him: Buster. He’s twenty yards away, down the corridor, but he turns his upper body and tilts his head. He starts to come toward me and a chill of fear runs down my neck.
He recognizes me.
“Quick, Mum!” shouts Other Me.
“I’m trying!” wails Jessica, jabbing frenziedly at the door panel.
Buster is getting faster and closer, his coal-black pincers clacking with aggression and his tail quivering.
He has drawn back his stinger to strike when the lock springs open and we fall through the door. Mr. Mash is barking loudly and lunges forward, seizing Buster’s front leg between his teeth. The scorpion lets out a squeal and the giant sting arches over his back and plunges into Mr. Mash’s thigh.
No!
Mr. Mash howls in pain and lets go. As Buster pulls back, ready to strike again, there’s a split second for me to reach out and drag Mr. Mash by his collar into the lab. Slamming the door behind me traps Buster’s tail as it aims another strike, and it waggles menacingly while I lean on the door. A second later, the weight of the door crushes the tail and it snaps off, twitching horribly on the floor as the door slams shut.
Poor Mashie is twisting in pain, whimpering and turning his head to try to locate the source of the sting and lick it, but he can’t reach. I long to comfort him, but I have to leave him.
“Where is it, where is it?” I shout as Jessica opens a big fridge door, and a cloud of ice steam seeps across the floor. Seconds later, she passes a box to Other Me, who rips it open and offers me a tiny glass bottle.
“You’ve come a long way for this,” she says.
Other lab personnel have gathered round us, drawn by the noise and the disturbance. An older man with white hair says, “What on earth is happening out there, Jessica? What in God’s name are you doing?”
“Not now, Arthur,” she says with such force that he stops talking and watches.
The bottle. It’s tiny, but I’m supposed to swallow it whole. Not the contents: the whole bottle.
I try.
I put it in my mouth and I try to swallow it.
And I can’t.
It’s a little cylinder about two centimeters long and I gag every time I try. I’m sobbing with frustration, as time is running out.
Outside in the corridor I hear shouts, then a Klaxon alarm goes off at a deafening volume. Through the window, the corridor is filled with giant scorpions; then there’s a loud whoomph as a smoke bomb explodes, followed by gunshots as the soldiers try to deal with the scorpion invasion.
Inside the lab, people scream at the gunshots and fall to the floor, and I’m desperately trying to swallow the little bottle. I get it to the back of my throat, but I keep gagging. It’s scratching the flesh of my mouth, and I’m sobbing with frustration.
It’s all over.
I’ve failed.
So many people are going to die.