ENEMY WITHIN
Chapter 2 "Hello? Hello, is anybody there?" Mark called out, looking up and down the barren white hall. No one answered. His voice echoed back to him in the empty space. "Look, if this is someone taking the mickey out of me, haha. Very funny. Now, I think this joke's gone on long enough. I'm a very busy man..." Mark's voice trailed off as the lift door abruptly slid open. A very serious looking security guard, armed with a machine gun, was stood there. "Oh, thank god! I'm afraid I seem to have been the victim of some sort of prank." He told the man, breathing a sigh of relief. "Would you be so kind as to take me down to the lobby?" "Mr. Huxley is expecting you, sir." The guard said, glowering and pointing towards the wall behind Mark. "He does not like to be kept waiting." "What...?" Mark said, wondering why the guard was pointing to a solid wall. Looking behind him, Mark gasped with shock. Where a blank wall had once been, just seconds ago, there was now a pair of elaborate French doors. "But...how did that...?" He asked, bewildered. Was this one of those tricks, like that bloke Derren Brown did to celebrities? If it was, Mark wasn't finding it very amusing. He'd canceled a date with his girlfriend for this. He hadn't been able to see her very often, since the flu crisis began. The guard pointed again, silently gesturing for him to go through the doors. As he stepped up to the curtained doors, they opened wide, reveling a butler in full livery. "This way, Mr. Seacourt. Mr. Huxley is currently on a conference call, and asks that you wait for him in the lounge." The butler said. "May I pour you a drink while you're waiting, sir?" "Whiskey, please." Mark said. He needed something to steady his nerves. The lounge was expansive and tastefully decorated in the modernist style. Wide tinted glass windows looked out over London and the Thames. The butler came back and handed him his drink, silently gliding off somewhere out of sight. Sipping the whiskey, Mark stood in front of a window and looked down on the city, wondering what Huxley had in mind. If it was a bribe, then the man was wasting his time. In an office in the rear of the flat, John Huxley was standing before his desk, talking on a headset. He stood rigid, with his hands clasped behind his back. Huxley was nearing retirement age, tall and broad, with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a custom made gray suit with a school tie. He was addressing an unseen speaker on the phone. "...I've told you, everything is going according to schedule. No!...calm down. Listen. We don't want to cause mass panic too soon. Our plans must be nurtured along, if they are to bear the nice, juicy fruit we hope for. We don't want government officials asking too many questions. I already have one them here right now...Oh don't worry about him. I'm taking care of it...I've invited him to dinner..." Huxley gave a cruel-sounding laugh. "...trust me, the processing will begin soon. Have patience. We stand to make quite a profit out of this little venture." Mark glanced at his watch. It was getting late. Huxley had invited him to dinner, in order to discuss the possibility of releasing the vaccine to the public. Not that Mark was inclined to even think of such a thing at this early stage. He had a few questions to put to this man. Such as how his company could develop a cure for a virus which had only been officially named a week ago. Something smelled rotten at Toxilco Pharmaceuticals. "Ah, there you are, Mark!" Huxley said loudly, as he breezed into the room. Deep in thought, Mark jumped, almost spilling his drink. He turned and looked at his host, putting on his best professional smile. Inside Mark was seething, though. The use of his first name without proper introductions first, struck him as being quite ill-mannered and altogether too familiar. It was completely against protocol. If Huxley thought he could so easily busk an MP, he was quite mistaken. Mark took his job far too seriously for that sort of nonsense. "Cook says to say that dinner will be ready shortly." The uniformed butler announced, coming into the room. "Shall I get you gentlemen anything while you are waiting?" "Nothing for me, Sampson. How about you, Mark?" Huxley said. "I'm fine, thank you." Mark replied. As the butler left, he turned to Huxley. "Nice place. But I'm sure you didn't bring me here to show off the décor or to sample the cuisine.. If you'll forgive me for putting it so bluntly. I should tell you, Mr. Huxley, that I didn't appreciate that little trick you pulled in the hallway. Though admittedly, I have no idea how you achieved it You're quite the magician." "Me? A magician? How very curious. You must have me confused with someone else. I don't even know how to do simple card tricks." Huxley said, gesturing to the sofa. They seated themselves and Huxley spoke earnestly.. "But you're right, Mark. I didn't bring you here this evening only to invite you to dinner. I want,to tell you more about the vaccine my company has developed. Think of the lives it could save!" "Only after it has been properly tested!" Mark insisted stubbornly. "Even you must admit, it's far too soon to try it out on the general population. The side effects could be worse than the cure. Worse case scenario, giving this vaccine could kill more people than if they caught it on their own." "What if I tested it on you?" Huxley suggested smoothly. "On me!" Mark gave a slight laugh. "Surely you're not serious!" "As it happens, yes, I am." Huxley said, his smile slipping ever so slightly. "Normally of course, we get our test subjects from the dregs of society. People no one would miss and whom haven't the social standing to have their complaints taken seriously. Not by anyone that matters, at any rate. You know. People living rough, immigrants, unemployed single mothers, drug addicts, that sort of thing." "But...that's monstrous!" Mark exclaimed, shocked. "I should think you and your party would approve." Huxley said, leaning back in his chair, seemingly genuinely surprised by the MP's attitude. "Aren't your supporters always going on in the papers about how much they hate anyone who is on the dole? This is one way to make these people earn their keep. And, if some of them happen to die, so much the better. That's less of a burden on the taxpayers. Less benefits the government has to provide" "How dare you presume that I wouldn't care about these people!" Mark blustered. "They're human beings, not cattle!" "Ah. But in today's world, cattle are more valuable to some. They can at least show a profit when they die. Then, can I assume that since you appear to value the poorer classes, you would have no objection on our company testing the vaccine on you and other MP's?" Huxley said. "I...I didn't say that." Mark said, suddenly uncomfortable. "Come now!" Huxley spread his hands. "We have to test it on someone in order to prove that it is safe and effective. You could use this an example to show the whole of Great Britain, that you and your party truly care about their wellbeing." "Yes, well..." Mark cleared his throat uncomfortably, fingering the knot in his tie. "I suppose, when you put it that way..." "Excellent!" Huxley snapped his fingers. Almost immediately the burly guard with the machine gun appeared, along with Sampson, the butler. "No sense in putting off tomorrow, what can be done tonight. Eh, Mark?" Without warning, the security guard moved behind the sofa. Swiftly reaching from behind, the guard pinned the MP's arms to his side. Sampson came forward. He was holding a tray with an injection gun resting on it. Alongside, was a vial of blue liquid. "What...what are you doing? Let me go!" Mark cried out. "Sorry. No, I can't." Huxley said calmly, taking the injection gun from the butler, and slipping the vial into it. "You see, I did invite you to dinner. But not as my guest." "I don't understand...please...let me go...whatever you want...I'll see that you get it. You don't have to do this..." Mark said. His eyes were wide and his face grew pale. He began shivering uncontrollably with fear. Suddenly, Huxley wasn't there anymore. Something else was stood there, towering over him. A thing like he'd never seen before. Mark thought he was hallucinating. Maybe it was something the butler put in his drink. He stared open mouthed at the thing which had suddenly appeared before his unbelieving eyes. "What the hell is that? Is this another one of your practical jokes?" He asked, looking up at the horror he saw before him, desperately hoping he was right, that this would all turn out to be Huxley's twisted idea of a party game. Putting down the tray, the butler Sampson now stood by holding a large, wide silver bowl. "You aren't invited to dinner, my dear man. You are dinner. The main course, actually. My people find you humans ever so delicious. You're the hottest new culinary trend." The creature grinned. With that, he plunged the injector into Mark's arm. "No...this can't be...please...what's happening to me...?" Mark's scared, bewildered voice trailed off into a terrible scream. His body began liquidate, pooling like quicksilver. As the guard released the body, the butler stepped forward, holding the bowl under Mark's feet. In seconds, the bowl was filled with a creamy goo. All that was left of MP Mark Seacourt. "Oh aye-aye." Wilf said, beaming with pleasure as Donna and the Doctor peered through the hospital curtains. "Look what the cat dragged in. How are you, sweetheart?" "Is mum around?" Donna asked warily. "Nah. It's her ladies lunch day. I convinced her I was well enough to be left on my own for a few hours." Wilf told her. "Hello, Doctor!" he grinned, "How're things. You know. Up there." He asked, pointing a finger at the ceiling. Just as Wilf spoke, a nurse bustled in. Excusing herself, she moved over to Wilf's bedside and stuck a thermometer in his mouth. "You mean in the maternity ward?" The Doctor said, blowing out his cheeks. "Erm..." "It's his day off." Donna interjected. "He wanted to go play golf. But I made him come here for a visit. Isn't that right, Doctor...Smith?" "Er-yeah. Though actually, I prefer snooker to-ooaf!." The Doctor exhaled, as Donna gave him an elbow in the ribs. "Yes. Right. Golf." He nodded, tugging on his ear. "I do love a round of golf on my day off. From the hospital. Delivering...babies. Can't keep me away from the course." So saying, he stretched out his arms and performed a mock golf swing. Nearly hitting the nurse in the head with his hands. "Oh. Sorry." "Doctors..." the nurse muttered crossly, as she hustled off to see to the next patient. "Are you OK, gramps?" Donna asked softly, her concern clearly reflected on her face. "Yeah. I'm fine, Donna. They say I might go home in a few days." He suddenly broke out into a hacking cough. The Doctor poured Wilf a glass of water and handed it to him. Looking carefully around, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver. It's tip glowed a soft blue, and it gave off a low hum, as the Doctor played it over Wilf's body. He snapped it off and checked the readings. What he saw there made his eyebrows knit together in puzzlement. Donna had her back to him, helping Wilf sit up, and didn't notice. "Wilf, what are they saying about this illness? What's so mysterious about it?" The Doctor asked. "No one knows where it came from, do they?" Wilf responded. "Five, six, weeks ago, nothing. Everything's fine. Now, people getting sick, some dying, in every major city in the country." He coughed. "And that's the other odd thing. It's only been reported in the cities. No a single report of illness anywhere else. Not even the suburbs. Just the major cities. And if there's been any cases in the less populated areas, no one's saying so. I'm telling you, Doctor," Wilf added, lowering his voice, "I bet you a month Sunday roasts of it's them aliens again." "You may be right, Wilf." The Doctor said, putting away his sonic. "And if you are, you're all in big trouble." "Not as much trouble as you are in, mister." Came an angry woman's voice from behind the Doctor.
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