In The End (Book 1): In The End

by Stevens, GJ

  “Seven,” I said, and she repeated the number down the line, adding two passengers would accompany the patrol as she watched Cassie's nod.

  “We'll need three vehicles, plus at least six on security,” the voice came back.

  “Can you spare them?”

  There was a pause for a moment before the reply.

  “Yes, Ma'am, they can be ready in ten minutes.”

  She killed the call without signing off and placed the radio on the table.

  “Okay,” she nodded. “We'll get everyone together and take it from there.”

  Moments later, there was a knock at the door and we were introduced to Sergeant McCole, a tall, but stocky man, made wider with the full body armour and camouflage kit he wore. With weathered skin and jet-black, short hair, his thick, unkempt eyebrows added to his unwelcoming expression.

  “Have either of you had any military training?” were his first words as he led us down the corridor, leaving the doctor in her office.

  Shaking my head, I voiced the answer, looking at Cassie as she did the same.

  “No.”

  “You'll do well to remember that. We're the professionals and you do as we say,” he said, without looking as he walked at speed down the long corridor, not checking to make sure we kept up, whilst pushing on a camouflaged green and brown helmet.

  I nodded at his back.

  He let the double doors go as he stepped through. I caught them before they swung back, holding one side open for Cassie and getting my first view of the three khaki-coloured Land Rover Defenders, their engines running.

  Soldiers sat in the driver's seats of each. In the front and rear vehicles, another stood behind with his upper body out of the roof in the rear compartment, a rifle resting at chest height.

  Beyond the vehicles, I saw great progress had been made erecting the fence. Each metal panel stood more than twice the height of the vehicles and slanted outwards a few degrees, with razor wire spiralling across the top edge. Concrete blocks and great water containers sat on angled legs to hold it firm, each delivered by a khaki-green forklift truck buzzing around the site as soldiers manoeuvred the panels into place. Only the space for two panels remained and a third was being installed by five soldiers in just their green t-shirts, their armour nowhere to be seen.

  Still without turning, Sergeant McCole motioned us to the back of the centre vehicle. He didn’t look to see if we'd understood. His gesture distracted as he talked in the microphone built in to his helmet.

  I couldn't hear what was being said until he turned and caught my eye.

  “With all due respect...” The words stopped and his eyes turned to a squint. “Yes, Ma'am,” he replied, and barked in our direction, “what are you waiting for?”

  Nearly running, we climbed up and into the musty rear of the middle vehicle, settling on the hard bench seats and turning to stare out of the windscreen. We watched as the pace of activity increased. An excitement in the soldier's movement grew obvious as more joined the fencing crew.

  The passenger door opened and McCole climbed in. His hand pulled up the handset in the cab, but before he had a chance to speak, gunfire lit up the silence and all heads turned to the left, our view blocked by the green canvas.

  “Use the rear entrance,” he said, not quite shouting. “Don't stop for anything. That's an order.”

  68

  “What's going on?” I said, as we watched with intent through the windscreen, the convoy running in the opposite direction to rushing troops laden with weapons and green ammunition tins.

  McCole didn't reply but turned in his seat, scowling. Still distracted, he pulled a map from the pocket of his combat trousers.

  Knowing I wouldn't get an answer, I turned back to Cassie sat opposite and reached across the gap between the two bench seats. She didn't pull back as I took her hands. A warm smile appeared across my lips, mirrored by hers. She was as pleased as I was we were going back to collect our friends, her family and finally taking the first steps to get out of this nightmare.

  Surrounded by Britain's finest, armed to the teeth and expert in how to deal with these creatures, we were safer than we'd been for days.

  A growl rumbled from my belly as I looked into her eyes across the gap. She rubbed her stomach and smiled. We hadn't eaten since this morning, but soon we could worry about those everyday things again. Soon we would have all the food we'd need and could eat together in safety.

  Turning back through the windscreen, I watched the rear of the lead vehicle as it guided us around the perimeter fence. To the occasional drill of gunfire, smoke stacks slid in and out of view, their colour a rainbow of greys depending on how close they were to burning themselves out.

  I watched as fields of green stretched out on the horizon. Watched as a car park, empty of all but a few cars went past, then, finally, the first buildings of the village came into view.

  Around we continued in our wide circle until the direction changed with a sharp turn, pushing me back against the cold metal, our speed not slowing as sentries, then the fence, flashed out of sight.

  McCole picked up the radio handset clipped to the dashboard.

  “Take a wide circle down the Boskennal Lane and come out at the head of Land's End Lane. Go cross country if you need to,” he said, releasing the button.

  “Sir, that's the main entrance?” the questioning voice came back.

  “That's an order, Private Curtis,” McCole said, his tone not inviting a reply. He got none.

  Cassie and I continued to watch out of the window as we followed down the deserted streets. St Buryan wasn't a large village by any stretch of the imagination but still it felt so eerie to see no people, no traffic each way we turned. The only signs of life we saw were from the past; windows smashed, drying pools of blood, walls peppered with bullet holes. Cars smashed, their metal crumpled around trees and buildings.

  Still, we carried on around the streets, turning right and right again, slowing only to bounce up the curb. The Defenders took the green fields with ease, all to the occasional background of gunfire.

  I watched as McCole picked his rifle from its stand in the footwell and inspected the chamber, then did the same with his side arm.

  We turned right again, back onto the road and before long the front Land Rover's brake lights lit and stayed on, our vehicle slamming to a halt a few metres from its back. The radio came alive with the same voice from the last call.

  “I count fifty Cords all heading to the FOB, sir, along Land's End Lane.”

  I let go of Cassie's hand and together we leant toward the windscreen.

  “How far out?” McCole replied.

  “Half a click,” the voice said, as he released the button.

  “A second wave,” McCole said, but not down the radio which he hooked back to the dash.

  He spoke again, but this time it must have been using the radio on his headset.

  I watched him tense, turning to scowl in our direction.

  “Back up,” he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

  One by one, the convoy turned, the rear vehicle taking the lead as we made our way out of the village in the opposite direction, finding a second roadblock whose sentries I couldn't see, despite being sure they were watching us.

  The gunfire receded each moment, leaving the drone of the Land Rover's engine only broken by the occasional pop of a distant explosion.

  It was another ten minutes before I could be sure we were on the reverse of the route Cassie and I had taken to get to the hospital in our stolen Land Rover.

  With my eyes trained and constant on the back of the lead vehicle, I guided us through each turn, gaining confidence as the roads unfolded as I'd expected.

  About halfway to our destination and along the road which would take us all the way, the brake lights of the lead vehicle shone as it reached a scattering of houses staggered either side of the road.

  A voice I hadn't yet heard came over the radio.

  “Sergean
t, we have a Cord in the centre of the road. About a hundred yards forward.”

  “Cord?” I said, not knowing if I'd heard correctly.

  McCole ignored my words, instead speaking into the dashboard radio. “Just follow protocol, soldier. You've done this before.”

  “Cords?” I said again, this time turning back, watching as Cassie shook her head.

  “Sir, it's not giving a classic reaction,” he said.

  I could hear the worry in his voice.

  “What do you mean?” McCole said into the radio.

  “He appears to be feeding on a body,” the uncertain voice replied.

  “Feeding?” McCole replied.

  “And he's staring right at me.”

  “Move forward and engage, soldier,” McCole said, not hiding his annoyance.

  “We should turn around,” I said, leaning forward to get his attention, but he shook his head and opened his door.

  Climbing out he stretched the spiralled cable of the radio as he tried to peer around the lead Land Rover.

  I stood, pushing aside the Perspex covers of the roof hatch and stared forward, ignoring McCole's shouts for me to sit back down.

  Looking past the gunner in the lead vehicle, I could see something bent over a body in the road. Just as the voice had described, he was staring in our direction. In that moment, the understanding hit me. They'd named the creatures after the fungus; Cord, short for Cordyceps. As I congratulated myself, the radio came alive, the lead Land Rover slowly rolling forward.

  “He's charging.”

  “Bullshit, soldier,” McCole shouted down the radio, but the words were so loud they would have heard from the other vehicle.

  McCole let the radio go, leaving his rifle on the seat as he walked out to the side to get a better view.

  I looked up to see the creature heading our way, his speed building as his mouth snapped open and closed. I turned back to McCole, who stood for a moment unmoving before he flinched up to meet my gaze.

  “You seen these before?” he said, the colour running from his face.

  I nodded, barely able to breathe as the bubble I'd imagined around us popped. They hadn't seen the worst of the worst; hadn't seen the creatures who gained such extraordinary speed when they took over their host.

  “Sir?” the voice said over the radio.

  “We need to get away,” I shouted, as we both turned back ahead to see the creature had already covered half the distance.

  McCole's reply went unheard as the air lit up with a bone-chilling scream, followed by a chorus of searing replies.

  69

  Fixed in place with my legs locked at the knees, I stared at the solider stood in the lead vehicle as he unleashed the full force of his rifle.

  McCole scrambled back through his open door. The first barrage had missed, only seeming to spur the creature on.

  The second volley exploded against its shoulder in a haze of flesh pluming backwards out of what had remained of a ragged blue t-shirt. The creature didn't slow. Instead, it leapt into the air, the rifle's aim following, shot after shot missing repeatedly as the creature landed on the floor, its legs bending cat-like before bounding back high.

  Round after round rained toward the creature as the soldier leant backward, trying to find the angle which would stop the advance.

  He was too late, as was McCole, who had his rifle from the cab aimed at the indistinct shape looming large as it raced through the air.

  The target was now larger, the soldier clutched in the creature's grip as it rose, soaring higher until it seemed to stop in mid-air.

  Still, I stayed locked in position as McCole fired with no discrimination and halted the hellish, pained screams.

  “McCole,” I shouted, and this time he paid attention. He turned away from the blooded mess slapping hard on the tarmac, the intertwined bodies of the two lives gone.

  His gaze followed my out-stretched arm, soon seeing the movement in the distance on both sides of the road moments before the barrage of hellish calls ripped through the air from the hunched-over figures, whose number we had no chance of counting.

  “We need to go,” I shouted, but the words were not required, the vehicle at the back already kangarooing in the opposite direction; the hedge clawing at the metal, gears crunching against each other.

  With McCole back in his seat, we began our turn, the door slamming shut halfway through.

  McCole screamed for me to get back down, but I couldn't drop, despite Cassie's calls. All my body would do was let me turn and watch on as the Land Rover now behind us sped backwards, bouncing over the bodies of the pair riddled with holes.

  Our distance built; we could go so much quicker forward. I shouted for McCole but we didn't slow.

  I shouted again and the engine quietened as we idled, but the new convoy leader raced out of sight around a corner.

  I watched as the lonely Defender reversed, knowing the driver's gaze would have been on us and not able to see the closing gap ahead, not able to hear the chatter of feet against the tarmac.

  I could. I saw as they caught up, saw the wheel turn as the driver looked around at the pair of unearthly creatures already on the bonnet. I heard and saw the crack of the glass, felt the four by four swing to the side, crashing hard into the wall buried deep in the bush.

  I watched as the wheels slipped and slid, smoke pouring from the tyres as his foot held fast, his only chance to break down the wall.

  I knew McCole would have turned in his seat, watching with me as the engine noise died; the wheels stopping their squeal, leaving only the smoke.

  No one said a word. All eyes latched forward.

  Something flew from the smoke, its arms and legs flailing, but came to a stop as he hit the floor head first, the helmet flying from the smoke a moment after.

  We watched as the smoke slowly cleared, alarm niggling in the back of my head. It was time to move and save ourselves; there was no hope for our man and all we were doing was lessening the odds of our own survival.

  No one voiced those words until the smoke cleared; until a creature pounced onto the soldier's body and ripped apart clothes, rending flesh in great sprays of blood. It could only mean one thing; he was still alive but wouldn't be for long.

  I shouted to McCole for a gun, my words spraying across the top of the Land Rover.

  He did as I asked, cocking the pistol and passing it up, butt first.

  I didn't note what I had in my hand, but it already felt so familiar. Drama from the last few days flashed through my head. I'd been through so much already. How much more would I need to take?

  A warm hand hugged at my thigh with a gentle, reassuring motion and I looked down to see Cassie peering up.

  Her face was as wet as mine, eyes wide with terror, but still she had taken the time to connect. I would not let her down.

  I turned back to see the smoke had cleared and pushed out the gun. I never fired, instead using all my energy to scream the command as loud as I could.

  “MOVE!”

  70

  We surged forward and I took my cue, dropping into the rear compartment, watching wide-eyed out of the dusty rear windows as the pack of monsters continued to gain.

  It wasn't long until the distance between us stopped shrinking and eventually we had the upper hand. I let my breath even out, let myself feel the ache as I loosened the grip on the handgun.

  Still, the creatures continued their onward chase, but they were no match for the horses under the bonnet.

  A warm touch found my arm and I turned to the dim light and saw Cassie's wide smile. I couldn't help but dive into her open arms.

  Clinging together for what seemed like an age, I felt the short bristles on my cheek warming against her soft skin. For a moment I forgot the drone of the engine, my heart racing for a whole other reason, only pulling apart as two deep voices swore from the front.

  Sitting back on the hard bench, my left hand holding her right, we turned to the windscreen and saw t
he wreckage of the Land Rover which had raced off, its nose folded around the stub of a tree, leaving the trunk and the sprawling bare branches blocking the road.

  Together we repeated their expletives, before twisting back around to stare through the rear windows and into the distance, hoping once we'd left their sight and turning many a corner, the creatures would have slowed and dispersed to worry someone less fortunate.

  I turned as we slowed, looking to the driver and McCole, waiting for their plan, but they were just repeating our gestures to each other.

  “Can we push it out of the way?” I said.

  The driver and McCole swapped looks, each nodding as the Land Rover continued to slow.

  Cassie and I made room while McCole scrabbled into the back compartment and stood up through the roof to aim his rifle the way we'd just come.

  I scrambled into the front seat, watching the steam rise from the crashed Land Rover as we came level, fingers of wood scratched and snapped, protesting at our advance.

  As the front grill bit down hard into the protruding branches, the glass in the headlights smashing, I looked across and saw the other driver’s head lolling forward and slumped over the deflated white airbag.

  At first I wasn't sure if he was dead but as his head moved, fear spiked he'd come alive again. As our Land Rover continued to make slow progress, I pulled open the door and jumped to the road, ignoring Cassie's worried calls.

  With the gun in my right hand pointed through the window, I gripped the door handle and pulled.

  His face turned and I knew I had to make my choice. His jaw hung slack and wide; with no blood he looked like he'd been punched in the face.

  I pushed the gun into my jacket pocket, grateful he didn't lunge as I gripped him around the waist and helped him to the ground.

  The scrape and crunch of wood had stopped, but the engine's roar had not. The mass of branches were too much for the Rover without a running start. The rear doors opened and Cassie jumped to my side, pausing as she stared down at the soldier, weighing the decision I'd made only moments earlier.