He glanced once more at the creatures and decided he would have to run. He got to his feet and moved as fast as he could through the field, struggling for footing as he glanced behind him. More of the infected were now giving pursuit, one of the big ones let out it's groan. The first two reached the downed dog, it let out one last sound, a sickening scream as they pulled it apart greedily feasting on its small carcass. Peter continued as fast as he could but he wasn't built for running. He still had a healthy lead but needed to slow his pace for a moment to catch his breath. Maybe thirty of them were following, a few joined in the fight to feed on the dog but the others remained focused on the bigger meal.
Peter started a light jog, regaining some of the lead he'd forfeited through his lack of fitness. He reached the edge of the field and flopped over the fence. The next field was grass, only a foot or so high but a gentle slope downwards, it was already easier going but he knew now that he couldn't stop. A small wooded area was the next goal at the end of this field. Maybe he could lose his pursuers there.
Halfway through the field he looked back, the first of them were just reaching the fence line and trying to negotiate it. His lead had increased, but his breathing had become more strained and legs now felt like molten jelly. The mop handle became a walking stick as he again slowed down, desperate not to stop, unable to continue running. One of them flopped over the fence but now Peter was at the edge of the woods and could quicken his pace slightly.
The woods didn't look too deep and he couldn't be sure what was inside as the foliage thickened, but he knew what was behind him and that was good enough to proceed. He carefully entered, all too aware that a creature could emerge from behind any tree or bush. His heart raced and he could barely hear the world around him above the sound of his own heartbeat. He looked behind to confirm his pursuers hadn't gained on him.
Peter didn't hear the low groan. He didn't see the figure step from behind the tree he was approaching. A loud thud as Peter ran straight into the slobbering mess of a former man. Both hit the ground, momentum separating them on the floor by a few feet. The mop handle was further out of Peter's grasp. The cricket bat was much closer. In an instinctive motion he picked it up and swung it down with the little power he could muster onto the creature's head. He stunned it only for a fraction of a second before he rained down the next blow, again with disappointing power. Peter scrambled to his knees and struck down a further two times with the bat before it hissed as its face was being planted into the ground by the impacts. Its body still writhed and Peter gave it one more pathetic whack as he got to his feet.
The creature stirred slowly, but Peter was content it was incapacitated long enough for him to escape, saving the little energy he had for the next confrontation. He picked up the mop handle and scurried off ahead to the edge of the woods. Beyond him more fields and to his right the road picked back up after the checkpoint.
Peter stayed in the fields and moved parallel to the road but not venturing too close. He slowed his pace to a fast walk, keeping a careful eye in front and the regular glance behind. He got to the end of the next field and saw no monster giving chase. He fell onto his knees and vomited. Peter rolled himself to sit down next to his creation and treated himself to a moment of rest before regaining his composure and carrying on.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GARETH ENTERED HIS apartment, his dark clothes hiding obvious signs of the struggle with Josef. The apartment was big, flash and expensively decorated, it was every bit the extension of him. The building was exclusive and enjoyed a spectacular view of the Thames. He turned on a light and made his way to a mirror. He checked himself for any marks, injuries or blood, anything that might give him away. Looking down, he saw a small patch of blood on his jacket and a small tear to a pocket but nothing too bad. The jacket was black and blood hard to see, but it was there, still tacky to the touch. It would be a good excuse to refresh his wardrobe.
He slung the jacket straight into the washing machine he had no intention of keeping it, but didn't want to risk it being found soaked in blood so a visit to the dry cleaners wouldn’t be required. He checked the rest of his clothes, they were fine, he'd clean those separately. His left shoe had a solitary speck of blood, dried and small. Gareth made his way to the bathroom, ripped a piece of toilet tissue from the roll, ran it under the tap, gave his shoe a good wipe then popped the paper into the toilet and flushed. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and hopped in the shower without a care in the world.
He didn't worry too much about whether he had gotten away with it. He had. Any guilt he had experienced whilst murdering Josef had drifted away with every passing minute. He expected the body would be discovered shortly, depending on how strongly the fire had taken hold. They would take some time to confirm the identify of the body. Maybe the next day the police might get in touch with the office, but even then, why would he be a suspect? His star scientist, who was about to make them billions has been killed, on the face of it, he should be their last suspect. And that's how he'd sell it if he needed to.
He was careful to wash thoroughly, scrubbing a little harder than normal, the water a little hotter and spending more time and attention. When he emerged, he was clean and fresh. He felt good. He dried himself with a towel and wandered through the apartment to the kitchen and poured himself a gin and tonic before sitting in the living and closing his eyes. He fell asleep within minutes, glass still in hand.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DARKNESS WAS FAST approaching and Peter began to wonder what he had done, leaving the safety of his own home. He wasn't sure how far he'd walked and wasn't confident he was going in the right direction. He felt exhausted and hungry, he'd kill for a burger, lately that had become the problem, everyone was ravenous.
The street he found himself on was much like the ones he'd been walking through for various parts of the day. The main signs of life were the odd infected soul trapped in a house or a scared animal breaking cover. Occasionally he’d hear or see one in the distance and he’d change course. They were definitely around but not in the numbers he’d expected. He missed the openness and tranquillity of the countryside. After the initial confrontation near the checkpoint, it had been uneventful bliss. The few creatures he saw were a distance enough away that he could give them a wide berth. The visibility made it so easy. The towns were a risk, but he preferred sleeping in a bed to sleeping under the stars with no protection. The risk was worth the reward. All he had to do now he had to find somewhere to sleep.
He had been on the lookout for an open door, figuring that anything inside would have escaped and meaning he wouldn't need to make any unnecessary noise. He'd seen a few houses that fit the bill, but he had found various reasons to not enter. The first was too big, too much space to clear and defend. His needs were meagre. The second had blood on the doorstep. Trouble had visited this place. He wouldn’t. The third had a beware of the dog sign. That stupid poor fucking dog. Society had fallen, monsters roamed the streets, and he was remorseful of a dog that could have gotten him killed. That stupid, scared mutt.
And there it was. Small, detached and the last house but one at the end of the street. The front door was open, some clothes and belongings were trailing from the porch onto the driveway. A tin of stewed steak caught his eye and sealed the deal. Peter scooped it up and slid it into his pocket, clenched the cricket bat, and approached the door. He stopped and listened intently sure he'd hear a creature bumping around the house. Silence. The house was modest, a two up, two down, but looked to have been turned over. Maybe the owners left in a hurry, maybe it had been looted. Probably both.
Peter slowly crept through the downstairs of the house, being small it was easy to search for ravenous fiends. Upstairs proved equally vacant, satisfied it was empty he made his way downstairs, one last glance inside and he closed the door. It was home for a night.
He searched the kitchen. The cupboards were bare, the fridge long since disconnected and a biohazard in its own right. At least he had t
he tinned steak, and the gas was on. The taps were working so Peter gulped down several mouthfuls of water whilst the stew slowly warmed on the hob. He examined the knife rack and admired a replacement spearhead for his mop handle. Another small sharp blade, he placed it on the work surface for later and pulled out a much larger knife.
He carried this with him as he gave his accommodation a more thorough investigation. Several family pictures, a young couple with a baby. There were a lot of pictures of that child, at its oldest it was maybe two years old, toddling around enjoying its short life. Peter felt bad thinking about that family and narrowed down his search. Looking at family memories was a waste of energy, and he had none to spare.
He began to look for anything he might put to use, but he'd been beaten to it, besides a few throws and the kitchen knives there wasn’t anything of use downstairs. Peter carefully climbed the stairs and searched the first bedroom, a nursery. A chest of draws that had been emptied in a hurry, a few toys, a selection of children's books and a cot bed, undisturbed since its last use. Peter didn't dwell and moved to the next room. The bathroom was small, the medicine cabinet empty but there was a toilet, Peter smiled, not a total bust.
The bedroom was in tatters, but the bed was still present and partially made up. He examined the door and looked to see what he could use to barricade it, a chest of drawers would fit the bill. Peter drew the curtains and then made his way back to his stewed steak. He emptied the steaming food into a bowl and tucked in as he made his way to the bedroom. This would be home for tonight, tomorrow would be harder, but tonight he could sleep in some comfort, use a real toilet, enjoy safety and have some hot food in his belly. His worries took a backseat to his exhaustion. His eyes closed, and he was instantly asleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHEN THE POLICE arrived in the office and broke the heartbreaking news of the fire, the burglary and murder of their beloved colleague Josef was hard to take. Josef was not just a genius, he was well respected and liked. He had it in him to be an arsehole, but there was always a justification for it. He wouldn't turn on a member of staff because they got his coffee order wrong or if they were a few minutes late to a meeting. Dangerous or stupid were his red lines, and those who disagreed didn't last long, those who remained liked him and could see the benefits into falling into line and riding on his coattails. None appeared more upset than Gareth when he spoke with the detective.
“He had just made an incredible breakthrough on our new drug. He was already starting to sketch out his next genius project and James Cahill would throw everything NewU Pharma had at him.” Gareth was at his desk and slumped down in disbelief.
The detective was a man in his early forties, a little overweight wearing a cheap suit. “Did he have any problems with anyone here, any problems you know of?”
“None. He was a genius and hugely respected in his field. His work has cured so many people and made the world a better place. Our new drug is completing certification, he cured obesity it will be huge. A man of his intellect could cure cancer or dementia given the right resources, and we would give him everything he wanted.” Gareth had to play up how important and special Josef was, there would always be some suspicion, but he had to reduce the plausibility. Why burn your winning lottery ticket?
“So you were okay with Josef being the star here?” The detective didn't seem interested in his own question, the accusatory tone felt forced as if he'd watched too much Columbo.
“I've got stock options, a great salary and looking at an amazing bonus. Everyone here has a great package, one that is massively enhanced with success and Josef, gave us our first great product. I don't know where the next one might come from.” What a load of bullshit. The fat drug was the payday they all wanted. No one gave a shit about a long slog of an unprofitable dementia drug.
The detective had heard enough, probably just a random burglary gone wrong. Forensics weren't hopeful of finding anything useful and the chances of finding a random junkie willing to confess were remote. “Thanks for your time, if you think of anything please let us know.” Both stood up and Gareth was handed a card as he showed his guest the door.
When the door clicked shut, Gareth sat back down, turned to the window behind and gave a small smile. He hadn't gotten away with anything yet, but he hadn't fucked it up either. Cahill didn't need to know the facts, he didn't need to know the problems, all he needed to know was that Gareth was dealing with it. That's what he paid him for. Amongst his responsibilities he'd have to talk to the staff, and that was his next duty. He popped open his desk draw and eyed a bottle of Scotch, maybe later. He left the office and made his way to the lab.
The mood was downbeat, for most. Roger and William seemed relieved more than sad. Their job had just become easier, with Josef gone there was no need to worry about their fraud being discovered. He was the only one with the expertise, knowledge and experience to spot their crimes. They were intelligent men, but not smart enough to realise that luck didn't really exist and that the death of Josef wasn't by chance. Maybe they suspected, but they didn't want to believe it and rock the boat so why even allow themselves to question their good fortune?
Gareth entered with confidence, ready to talk to those who felt they needed, make a short boilerplate speech and show his face. He stood at the front and observed the eggheads going about their work. One or two of the junior ones noticed and stopped, waiting for him to begin.
“Excuse me guys, I'd like to say a few words. James is unfortunately tied up in New York, but he asked me to come and see you. Obviously, you've all heard the devastating news about Josef and we're here to support you. If you need anything, talk to Jane in HR and she will assist you.” Don't bother me, I don't care.
“We all know the fantastic work that Josef did here.” The work that will make everyone up stairs rich beyond our wildest dreams and will be a nice line on your CVs.
“Let's get it over the line, let this be Josef’s legacy, a lasting testament to his genius and ability to help his fellow man.” Don't slack off now, my bonus hasn't been calculated yet.
“My door is always open, and Jane has some great resources to help.” Just leave me alone. Short and not particularly sweet.
Gareth stopped for a moment, leaving enough time as if to invite questions but not enough time to allow them. “That's great guys, thanks for listening.”
Roger and William were at the back of the lab. They'd listened like the rest but didn't care. They knew they were being looked after. “Roger, William, how's it looking?” This was the most interested Gareth had been in any conversation he'd had in the lab. They were so close.
“Great, we've worked out the issue with testing and getting the rights results, every time. We're ready to progress and submit for full validation.” Roger stated this matter-of-factly, he knew the road was long and tedious and it was still years away from getting approved.
“Fantastic, whatever you need let me or Cahill know, we'll get it for you.”
Either Gareth didn't appreciate they were at a start of a marathon or felt he could cheat the system, William felt the need to temper expectations. “This still won't be a quick process, it could take another ten years for approval, in fact, I can't see us being on the shelves for at least ten years, maybe even fifteen.”
Gareth knew this was a slow process, but fifteen years? No, that wouldn't do. “Look, it'll take as long as it takes, but we can always shave some time off. There's nothing in this world that can't be shuffled along with a smile and a few more pound notes waved in the right direction.”
Gareth wouldn't be able to grease any palms until he knew which ones to target. He already had a professional gathering information on various government officials, ministers, and shadow ministers anyone with influence. Fat can't be a lifestyle choice. It has to be an epidemic, one that demanded a cure. The strain on the NHS, chubby children struggling to breathe shoving chocolate down their own throats, middle-aged men knocking back pints on a Saturday afternoo
n before keeling over clutching their chests. Getting those in authority behind a push to defeat obesity wouldn't be hard, with the right backing. He'd fund, bribe, blackmail whatever it took. Like hell he would wait around for ten years to get his money, he could do it in three.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HIS ALARM WOULDN'T stop. Peter fumbled with his eyes closed to turn it off but failed. He sat up and then remembered that this wasn't his bed, this wasn't his house. And he didn't have an alarm. A car outside was causing the racket, Peter soon woke himself and peeked out of the curtains. One of the older ones from the beginning was pushing against a car, trying to get at something inside. The noise had attracted others, just two or three that Peter could see, but others were no doubt closing in.
He grabbed his things and moved the barricade as he quickly briskly made his way downstairs. He could see shadows moving on front of the house through the glass and turned to the back, to the kitchen. He picked up a knife and looked into the back garden. It was clear.
Peter silently unbolted the door and walked to the end of the garden, there was no gate and the fence was maybe seven feet tall. He looked for something to stand on and found a bucket, he turned it upside down, stood on it and stretched to look over. Another garden, it had a side passage and he could see a gate at the end. He could see one creature in the house, but the glass patio door was closed. It swayed gently as it stood staring into the garden. This was still a better option than the street in front of the house, one trapped one or maybe half a dozen gnashing, clawing ones.
Some people would be able to scale the fence without issue. Most would get over it at maybe the second or third attempt. Peter's heavy breathing rivalled that of the car alarm out front. In two minutes he'd not got close. It would have been embarrassing if it wasn't so exhausting. Peter flopped down on the ground to rest. He looked around for something else to stand on. The small well-kept garden yielded nothing useful, a tasteful garden gnome was neither steady nor strong enough. Then he noticed, the fence panel. He lifted the panel, and it slowly slid upwards between the posts. It was heavy, but he could do it. Peter sat on the floor and eased the panel back up and above his head as he began to drag his body through and propped the fence panel up on his shoulder. He reached back across and blindly fumbled for his bag, bat and bladeless spear unable to see with the panel resting on his shoulder.
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