He switched off the tape recorder, and the tears came. His body shook violently as he bowed his head and pinched the corners of his eyes to try and hold the tears back. Jaime remained like this for a few minutes, before finally getting to his feet and walking over the broken glass to an unoccupied table. He placed the tape from out of the recorder – ‘my confession’ written on it in pencil – on the table’s top, next to an envelope marked To My Darling Katrina. He picked it up, kissed it once and spoke softly, “I hope you managed to escape it all.” He turned to face his dead team. “I’m sorry.”
He drew his Browning 9mm pistol from the holster at his hip, and placed the muzzle to his temple. The gun clicked on an empty chamber, and a second, and a third – click, click, click. Jaime threw the handgun to one side, scanned the other dead bodies for a gun. Nothing. Then his eyes fell on the near empty bottle of whisky. He ambled over to it on shaky legs, scooped it from the floor, guzzled the remaining amount of liquid and broke the bottle on the edge of a cabinet. He looked at the jagged end, and knew that he had to do it. He could hear the infected out in the corridors, all around him, beating at the door to the lab. Almost seven days he had put up with that; seven days of being walled in, surrounded by their ghastly moans and snarls. He rammed the jagged end of the bottle into his neck, retracted, stabbed, twisted. His body gave an aggressive spasm. Jaime collapsed against a wall, and let the blood squirt and flow freely without trying to well it. He spewed the words, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again as he sat there dying, drooling stringy bloody-saliva onto his chest and lap.
Chapter 12
Jeff had swapped seats with Amy, letting the child sit up front with Maria for the rest of the journey, so that he could rest his leg on the back seat. They were now outside “Wings Flying Club”. A few cars were parked in the clubhouse’s car park. The windows to the small, pub-like building were a shattered mess – upstairs and down. A couple of dead bodies lay on the gravelled floor at the entrance to the place. Jeff recognised one of them as the owner. Derek Copper.
“The place looks deserted, Jeff,” Maria said.
“We can’t risk getting out. If you drive around back, you’ll see a mesh fence circling the entire perimeter of the airfield.”
“Then what?”
“We drive through it.”
Maria went to speak again, but something caught her eye. In the darkness of one of the bottom windows of the clubhouse, she saw a face. It was coming closer out of the gloom.
“Jeff…Over there. Inside.”
“Shit. Get us round back.”
Then Jeff saw the muzzle flash and crackle of gunfire before the bullets started pelting the framework of the Toyota – ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting.
“Down!” Jeff yelled
The windshield caved in; the grill hissed; the bonnet whined in peppered agony. Jeff could smell singed metal. Then he heard one of the front tyres rupture.
“Drive, drive, drive,” he shouted.
Maria, with her head ducked behind the wheel, drove half-blind. Amy was hunched in the well. Bullets tapped at the passenger door as Maria veered the jeep to the left of the building, and went around the back. Then the firing stopped. They were out of the gunman’s sight. Maria ploughed the 4x4 through the mesh fence, taking it with them for part of the route over the airfield before finally leaving it behind.
The tyre that had been shot out now ripped, and both Jeff and Maria heard it tear completely off the alloy. They were going to have to make it to Jeff’s hangar on the rim, cutting their speed by more than half. This gave the shooter time to get out of the building, and back on their heels. Soon enough, bullets tore away at the arse of the Toyota: the backlights disintegrated under a pebble-dashing of hot lead; the dials on the dashboard burst and exploded.
“Brake,” Jeff said. “And keep down.”
Jeff grabbed the SA80 and waited for the gunman to run dry of ammo.
Maria felt like a sitting duck as bullets continued to whizz and whine into the jeep. When the firing ceased, Jeff wasted no time in springing from his position. The man with the gun was less than thirty feet away, reloading; Jeff unloaded the entire magazine of his machine-gun into the attacker. Riddling the man’s chest, gut, legs, arms and face before he finally collapsed to the floor. “Got you,” Jeff hissed. “Head over to that hangar on the right. My plane is in there.”
Maria rolled the crippled 4x4 over to the huge, white hangar. The roof was ark-shaped, with a massive roller door gracing its front, and a small, standard sized door in its centre.
“Once I get that door open, reverse the jeep close to it so that we can unload,” Jeff said. He dug the bunch of keys from his pocket, and fumbled with them, trying to find the right one for the little door. “Got it,” he said, more to himself than Maria.
Jeff checked to see if the area was clear, and got out. Volts of pain skipped up his leg, almost taking him to the floor. He composed himself and hobbled over to the door.
Once it was open, he signalled Maria, who reversed. Jeff got the boot open, and took everything out as fast as he could, dumping it just inside. Amy climbed over the seats, got out and ran into the hangar.
“I’ve finished. Move the jeep out of the way of the shutter door. I’ll cover you when you get out.”
“Okay, Jeff.”
He shut the boot, and Maria pulled off to the left and stopped. Satisfied that the Toyota was not in the way, she got out. Jeff was stood by the hangar, sweeping the gun from side to side – the airfield was quiet.
One large plane stood out in the middle of the runway, with a couple of smaller planes here and there. There was also a truck which looked like it could have been a fuel tanker; it was nothing more than a burnt-out wreck. Towards the end of the runway was another smoking ruin, which looked much larger than the fuel tanker – maybe a plane? Jeff thought, unable to work it out.
Maria ran for the hangar, and she and Jeff got in. Jeff closed and locked the door – they were finally safe. Jeff put his head to the cool, metal door and sighed.
“Nothing will get in here. Nothing,” Jeff said.
Light from Perspex windows in the ceiling lit the hangar, but it was still pretty dim. Maria couldn’t see to the back. Only Jeff’s small plane was inside, which was white, with British Airways markings on its fin, wings and nose. The letters G-EGLL SUNRISE were etched on its side. Maria could see eight seats inside, and was shocked at how big the plane was. She could smell oil and petrol in the hangar, and there were small slicks on the floor.
“How could that thing out there have been using a gun?” Maria said. “They can’t be evolving that fast, surely?”
“I’m not so sure it was an infected person,” Jeff said.
“You mean…”
“He was wearing military colours,” Jeff said. “And we did pass that army barracks on our way out here.”
“You think it was a soldier? Maybe he had lost his mind?”
“Either that, or he thought we were like them.”
Maria made an O shape with her mouth, and said nothing.
“Can we go now, please,” Amy said.
Jeff turned, and smiled at the youngster, “of course we can.”
“Not so fast,” a voice shouted out.
Maria shrieked and clung on to Amy.
Jeff turned to where the voice emanated from, and readied his gun.
“Don’t bother, matey, I’m in the dark with my own gun – you’ll lose! Now put your weapon on the ground, I’m not going to hurt you. Just had to make sure.”
Sweat stung Jeff’s eyes as he frantically squinted into the dark, trying to find his target. He couldn’t just put his gun down, no way. What if it was another psycho like Dylan? Or that soldier out on the airfield? Then the person came out of the shadows. Followed by a second, who was much smaller. A teenager?
As the pair stepped closer, Jeff could make out that the first person was a male, and he was clutching at his left side, where blood seemed t
o be trickling from a wound. The second was a teenage boy of about seventeen, and he was the one holding the gun.
“We really don’t want to hurt you,” he said. He has a Cardiff twang in his accent, Jeff thought. The boy had beads of sweat running down his face, and his grip on the bolt-action rifle seemed slippery. “Please, just put your gun down,” the man agonised.
“Jeff, maybe we should,” Maria said. “He seems badly hurt.”
“And what if he is like Dylan?”
“Put your fucking gun down, pal,” the boy shouted, edging closer to Jeff, who in return turned his gun on the teen.
“No,” the man yelled, and stepped in front of the boy playing at being a man. “Put the gun down, Dafydd,” the man said. “These people aren’t going to do us any harm, are you?” he asked Jeff.
“We don’t want trouble, but it keeps on finding us for some reason. I want to trust you, but I’m worried it will get us killed,” Jeff said, still keeping his gun on Dafydd.
“Look, I’m hurt here, matey, and not capable of much. And unless I get some urgent help at a hospital, I’m not going to make it through another few hours.” The man gritted his teeth as the intense pain in his side shot through his body; his knees buckled and he collapsed against the side of Jeff’s plane.
“Dad!” Dafydd shouted, and dropped the gun to aid his father.
Jeff lowered his gun to help the falling man, and felt foolish, for now he had let his guard down, giving the man and his boy an opportunity to rush them – but they didn’t. The father was telling the truth; he was in a serious condition. A large chunk of flesh was missing from the man’s side, exposing some ribs. And now that he had moved his hand, the wound pumped blood.
“Press your hand tight to his side,” Maria stressed, searching through the equipment they had. She got the first aid kit out of the satchel, along with some bottled water. “Here, Jeff,” she said.
Jeff took the first aid kit and started opening it, but the man pushed it out of the way.
“Don’t bother wasting your time and resources. I’m a goner,” he said, and smiled.
“Dad, please, let—”
“Shh, boy. I’ll be more use to you like this, you’ll see,” he said, then turned to Jeff. “Can you fly this can with wings?”
“Yes,” Jeff said.
“But—” Dafydd started.
“It’s going to be okay, I promise you,” he told Dafydd. Then he turned to Jeff. “I’ll help you fly out of here by opening the doors, and taking the blocks from under the wheels of the plane, but you have to promise me one thing?”
“What?” Jeff asked.
“Take my boy with you, and look after him. I told him that I would, but I’ve obviously failed him there,” he said, a wry smile on his face.
Dafydd buried his face into his father’s neck and cried.
“Of course we’ll look after him…Jesus!” Jeff yelled, as the roller door came under attack from outside. The metal door dented and shook on its runners as kicks and punches were issued to it.
“We’re running out of time here,” Maria said. “Those things are trying to get in.”
“Dafydd, Dafydd, boy. Look at me, will you?” The teen looked his father in the eyes. “You have to go with these people, and help them as much as you can.”
“Come with us, Dad, please!”
“Look at me, son. I’ll be dead before we leave the tarmac.”
“We’ll leave you two to it,” Jeff interrupted. “We have to load the plane.”
The man nodded.
Jeff rallied the girls and got them to help him. He climbed inside the plane and started it up. He was happy to see the fuel gauge up near the full mark, meaning it would be enough to get them to Scotland. He switched on his CB radio, knowing that when he was in range, he could try to contact his sister, as she always had hers on.
Amy and Maria loaded their stuff into the belly of the plane, which acted as the cargo area. Once finished, Amy climbed aboard, leaving Maria to go to Dafydd and his father.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Maria said, putting her hand to the father’s shoulder.
He looked up at her with wet eyes, “Yes, love, pretty sure.”
She could just about hear his whispered response over the assault on the roller door. His face ashen; his lips turning a blue-purple colour.
“Go on, son, go with her.”
“Dad, please, let me stay with you!”
“No, now go, please, Dafydd.”
“Come on,” Maria cooed.
“Get your damn hands off me, bitch!” Dafydd yelled.
“Dafydd!” he shouted, “that’s no way to speak to a woman – I’m shocked at you. That’s not how mam and me brought you up, now is it?” The boy lowered his head. “Please, go with her. You’ll be safe. I may have let you down, but I will not break my promise to mam.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, Dad.” He stood, helping his father up, who held his hand out for support while clutching his side.
“Now go, the pair of you.”
Maria got in, while Dafydd picked up his gun and a hold-all of his own before climbing on.
Dafydd’s father hobbled under the plane and released the blocks. He then went to the roller shutter, and signalled up to Jeff to throw the key down. Jeff opened the little side window in the cockpit, and threw down the necessary key.
The sound of the propellers inside the hangar were deafening as it reverberated off the tin-like walls. Dafydd’s father unlocked the door, and rolled it skyward. A pack of them had formed outside – ten, maybe fifteen of them flooded inside.
They were soon on Dafydd’s father, pulling him to the ground and ripping at his guts, throats, eyes, arms, legs…pulling him in all directions. Dafydd couldn’t see this, as he was sat at the back. Jeff moved the plane forward, slowly nudging them out of the way like bowling pins. The left engine whined in agony as Jeff saw a body being sucked in to it. Jeff heard the thing’s bones crunch and splinter upon impact with the wooden rotor blade.
Once Jeff was free of the hangar, he sauntered the plane down to the end of the runway. He could see the trail of dead bodies he’d left behind him as he powered down the strip, and took the small plane into the air. The few who had managed to work their way onto the plane now faced an agonising drop to the ground as Jeff soared higher and higher.
As Jeff kept climbing, he looked out of his side window, and saw Cardiff city centre nearby: buildings had been reduced to smouldering rubble; traffic jams of burnt out cars and buses; charred bodies and hordes and hordes of the infected shuffled along the streets in broad daylight, searching for more victims.
When he came to straighten the plane out, the horrific scene below could not be made out – only bodies like ants. Maria sat next to Jeff in the cockpit; Dafydd and Amy sat in the back of the plane. The door to the cockpit was open, so Jeff and Maria were able to keep an eye on the youngsters. They communicated through their headsets, their voices crackled.
“Do you think I should go back there and have a chat with him?”
“You could do,” Jeff said. “I’m not sure I like leaving Amy alone with that boy.”
“Why?”
“You saw how hostile he was?”
“But come on, Jeff. The boy was about to lose his dad.”
“I know, I know. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“I know you are, Jeff.”
“We have to be careful. We can’t afford any more slip-ups.”
“You’re thinking about them again?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course, but we can’t mistrust everyone we come across,” Maria said.
“I just feel like it was my fault, you know?”
“How can you say such a stupid thing, Jeff?”
“I was meant to be guarding us all.”
“You weren’t to know that psychotic freak would break loose and jump you.”
“But I should have been paying more attention, Maria.”
“And Ollie and Roxie should have stayed where they were, and not gone upstairs like a pair of teenage lovers.”
“Hmm, it still doesn’t make me feel less responsible for what happened to them.”
“But nobody is to blame.”
“I should have listened to Ollie, and thrown Dylan out.”
“But you weren’t to know, none of us were! We could have listened to Ollie and ended up throwing an innocent man to his death!”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“No guess so about it, come on, Jeff.” She rubbed his arm. “I’m sure Ollie wouldn’t blame you for it.”
“Ha-ha, I’m not so sure about that,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “We can’t save everyone. We got Amy out of there, didn’t we? And now Dafydd?”
“That’s true.”
“You’re a good man, Jeff. And Ollie and Roxie knew that. I’m pretty sure they would’ve wanted to see us escape this madness.”
“Yeah, I know you’re right. They had a lot of time for Amy, too,” Jeff said.
“Ollie told me he was glad he’d saved her. He felt a great deal for the child,” Maria said, choking back a sob. “I think he would have treated her like his own, as would Roxie.”
“Do you fancy having a check on them?” Jeff asked. “Dafydd must be very upset after what happened back at the hangar.”
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