She came to rest on one knee. The water soaked through both layers of trousers, but she managed with the help of the broom to push herself up to her feet again, gasping for breath and surprised to find herself still alive.
The isolation ward wasn’t far now. She plodded on, doubly careful. From somewhere, she didn’t know where, she thought she heard the sound of an engine, but realised it was probably only the sound of the wind groaning around the ornate chimney stacks.
It was an old brick building with high Victorian gables — converted stabling, Sue guessed, or something similar — and the main door stood open, banging to and fro in the wind. Over the floor of the entrance lobby a thin layer of water had already spread, seeping into the corridor beyond. From it came a telltale greenish glow.
‘Hello! Anybody there?’ she called out from the step, holding the door open.
No answer; only windows rattling somewhere inside.
Then she felt a movement by her foot. She looked down and saw a huge jellyfish gradually pulling itself up over the threshold. In the process, one edge of it had flopped over the toe of her gumboot.
‘Get out, will you!’ she snapped angrily, attempting to kick it back outside.
It hardly moved, but clung effortlessly to the doorstep. She should have left it alone, she knew, but the mere sight of it going into that building filled her with such loathing that she reversed the broom handle and attacked it with the sharp edge of the amputation knife.
The blade sliced through it, leaving a long, clean gash.
Nervously, she took a half-step back, holding her makeshift spear ready, expecting a counter-attack. The gash, which passed right through that centrally-positioned ruby-red star, seemed merely to yawn at her. There was no other movement.
Then another jellyfish nudged her heel from behind. She swung around to see more of them hauling themselves into the building to take up positions around their injured comrade — and her. They crowded her, resisting her efforts to push through them until, fighting down rising panic, she was forced to cut her way free.
The amputation knife was razor-sharp. It slipped through the glistening muscle without her having to exert any pressure on it. One after another she dissected the jellyfish, or deprived them of their tentacles, and pushed the fragments aside with her foot.
More were coming up behind her, but she could still move a lot faster than they could. She reached the corridor and slammed the door on them, leaning against it for a second to get her breath back.
‘Anyone there?’ she shouted again desperately.
Silence.
The corridor was aglow with green light, yet at first she saw no sign anywhere of the speckled jellyfish. It took her a moment to realise that the luminescence came from slime smeared over the vinyl floor tiles and skirting board. She had difficulty keeping her footing, it was so slippery.
A short passage cut across the end of the corridor in a T-shaped layout. To the left were two or three steps leading up to a closed door marked Bacteriology Department; to the right were double swing doors leading into the isolation ward. They were open, propped apart by the dead body of a young nurse.
Sue reeled back, shocked, and put out a hand to steady herself against the wall. She’d hoped — expected, even, in her heart of hearts — to find the place deserted and the little boy mistaken. But this must be Deirdre, this dark-haired girl lying there at such an unnatural angle, her neck obviously broken.
A speckled pink-and-red jellyfish lay over her face, its body rippling as it gorged itself; a second was wrapped across her neck; two more were busy on her legs, having destroyed the thin fabric of her black tights. A couple of feet away Sue noticed a pair of glasses in delicate green frames, obviously hers.
She wanted to turn and run, to put it all behind her, to get as far away as she could from that terrible place. But what about the little girl? Was she still there? Still alive?
There was only one thing she could do. Somehow, she had to get past that body and take a look inside, although she knew she’d never have the courage to step over it while those jellyfish were still active. Steeling herself, she poked the amputation knife at one of those on the dead girl’s legs. She could disable them at least, she thought feverishly, even it they didn’t die.
Its ripples became more violent as the knife cut into it. A red stain from the girl’s blood spread over the blade; then one piece of jellyfish suddenly sagged away.
Encouraged, she attacked the others in the same manner. At last she felt ready to reverse the broom handle and use the blunt end to drag the body clear of the doorway.
The ward turned out to be a small room, as Angela had said. It looked dreary and uninviting in the dull light from the rain-drenched windows. There was no slime to brighten it up, no doubt because the jellyfish had found enough to occupy them in the doorway without going any farther.
In the third bed — the only one occupied — was a little girl, flushed with fever and turning restlessly on her pillow. She was about ten years old, sloe-eyed, with long, black hair. Sarita, the chart at the end of the bed said her name was. Sue bent over the small form.
‘Hello. You’re Sarita, aren’t you? My name’s Sue. I think we’re going to be all right now. We’ll soon get you out of here.’
The girl muttered something Sue didn’t quite catch.
‘What? Something you want?’
‘Drink… please…’
On the bedside table was a glass and an empty water-jug, but she’d already spotted a sink at the far end of the room. She went over there to refill the jug. The water spluttered and coughed as it came out, but at first she gave it no thought. Old building, old plumbing — what was unusual about that?
It was only when she’d turned the tap off that she noticed an unexpected movement on the jug-rim. In her ski-jacket pocket she had the torch Angela had lent her. She switched it on to examine the jug more closely, then gasped in horror. Floating in the drinking water was a host of tiny medusae.
The jug fell from her hand, shattering in the sink.
Sue opened the cupboards, one after the other, but found nothing she could offer the poor kid. She had to get her out of this place.
The scene from the windows offered no hope whatsoever. That pale green light still hovered over the rippling flood-water. The wind was whipping the trees frenziedly, groaning like a throbbing engine. A slate slithered over the rooftop, then crashed to the ground only feet away. Sue saw the splash and hoped it had landed on a jellyfish.
‘Drink… drink…’
The little girl was hardly conscious of what she was saying. Her cheeks were unnaturally flushed; her eyes looked hot and dry. Sue wrapped her in a blanket, then picked her up while still trying to hold on to her spear, knowing that they’d never succeed in getting back to the hospital without it.
‘Sarita, we’re going to the big hospital now,’ Sue whispered, trying to comfort the girl. ‘We’ll be OK once we’re there.’
Sarita’s head rested against her shoulder; her breathing was noisy, and worrying. She gave no sign that she’d understood.
As they went past the dead nurse near the doorway, Sue noticed how the pieces of jellyfish she’d cut up were still turning and wriggling, refusing to die. It gave her the shivers even to look at them. Then, in that mystically-lit corridor with slimy floor, she was seized by a deep spasm of fear. She stood stock-still, unable to put one foot in front of the other.
It took several moments before she managed to regain control of herself sufficiently to carry on. She shifted the little girl in her arms, took a fresh grip on the spear, and walked very cautiously towards the door leading to the lobby.