Book Summary
First people got sick. Then they got really sick.
Nick Adams is just a normal guy. He loves his family, appreciates his home, and covets his car. But he absolutely hates his job. Which is what makes is so difficult when not a single customer comes by his store that day. It seems as though there’s a bug going around, something that has come out of nowhere and is keeping people at home. Still, it’s probably nothing to worry about. People get sick all the time.
And besides, things are finally starting to look up. Nick’s first customer of the day has just stumbled through the door…
His day is about to get worse.
It won’t be long before Nick’s entire life is turned upside down, sending him on a frantic journey through a ravaged world that will ultimately lead him 500 feet upwards to a hilltop amusement park. Is it the last safe place on Earth, or are the monsters at the top of the hill even worse than the ones below?
Welcome to Ripley Heights. Where the fun never starts.
RAVAGE
(Special Edition)
BY
Iain Rob Wright
Dedicated to my Father-in-Law, Roger. I miss you.
With thanks to:
Barton Glenn
Vix Kirkpatrick
Vince Early
Barbara Rochester
Barb Higgins
Paul Blanchfield
Caroline Doyle
Nicola Rees
Erimozqueda
Lee Nelson
Alison Coombes
Julie Nice
Andy Smith
Hotstuffsteph
Stephen Bryant
Faith Kauwe
(Sorry if I forgot anyone. IRW)
“Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking towards me, without hurrying.”
- Jean Cocteau
“We are living on the brink of the apocalypse, but the world is asleep.”
- Joel C. Rosenberg
“He’s got an arm off!”
- Simon Pegg, Shaun of the Dead, 2004
NEWS REPORT: SEPTEMBER 29th 2012
Terrorist attack suspected of killing up to 1500 people as commercial cruise liner, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK, sinks due to massive explosion.
Joint relief efforts are underway in the Mediterranean Sea, where the tragedy occurred, by several nations including France, Italy, UK, and Egypt, but so far no survivors have been found. It is thought that the explosion, which caused the entire 33,000 tonne vessel to sink below the waves within minutes, occurred inside the engine compartment.
No group has yet come forward to claim responsibility for the attack, but owners of the doomed cruise liner, Black Remedy Corporation, have claimed that, with the stringent safety measures present on all of their public passenger ships, there is no possible cause for the disaster other than an act of terrorism.
The company has previously been targeted by eco-terrorists and religious groups because of its reputation for operating unethically in the 3rd world and for allegations of corruption and sabotage. While the vast, multi-national corporation has made great efforts in the last decade to conduct its affairs to a better moral standard, it is thought that there may still be groups and individuals who wish to target it.
NATO Secretary, General Able Rasmussen, condemned the suspected suicide attack as ‘despicable’.
Part One: LIFE
Chapter One
“The whole town is dead,” said Paul, re-entering the phone shop with a bored shuffling of his feet.
Nick gazed out at the shopping centre’s vacant seating areas and deserted walkways, and saw that his co-worker’s statement was correct. The Boots megastore directly opposite – usually teeming with customers – was devoid of a single shopper. Its typically vibrant team of staff were pottering around aimlessly, re-jigging shelf displays and chatting to one another for lack of anything else to do.
Likewise, the small mobile phone shop that Nick managed was also unbearably quiet. It’d been more than two hours since the last customer stepped through the open metal shutter that fronted the store. Every minute had begun to feel like hours.
“I wonder why it’s so quiet,” Nick mused out loud, directing the question to his colleague. “Is England playing football today or something?”
Paul shrugged, shook his bald head. “Hey, I’m Sikh. I only know when there’s cricket on.”
Nick chuckled, but still felt worried. With no customers, how on earth were they going to get any sales. He needed to earn his bonus this month, to cover the deposit he had already paid, and yet didn’t really have, on a new car.
“All the other shops were just as quiet as us when you checked?” he asked.
“Yeah. I spoke to Chris at Game Traders and he said they haven’t had a customer since eleven. They’ve been dossing around, playing Fifa all day.”
Nick’s watch told him it was just after three. The daily sales target was a nigh-on-impossible feat to achieve now. Paul had set up a two-year iPhone contract for an overweight teenager first thing that morning, but hadn’t sold a thing since. Nick himself hadn’t taken much more than a few quid through the tills. Nothing but credit top-ups and bill payments.
Actually, I sold that SpongeBob phone sock, too. Whoop-de-do.
Nick rubbed at the dull, black stubble on his chin and stifled a yawn. Area manager’s going to have my balls in a vice if we don’t get more sales on the board.
What can I do, though? Can’t force people to come to town and buy overpriced gadgets that they don’t really need. Hell, even I can’t tell the difference between the new iPhone and the last one.
This is bad, though. We need to get one more sale at least.
Slow days weren’t uncommon in Nick’s line of business, especially with a recession in full swing, but this was one of the worst footfalls he could remember. There was barely any point to being open, in fact. With the cost of electricity and wages, the store would probably be losing money just by them being there.
The store’s head salesman, Paul, strolled over to the laptop area and started browsing the Internet. It was against company regulations to use the computers for personal use but Nick wasn’t about to be a jobsworth just for the sake of it. He was an easy-going manager at the best of times, and today there really was nothing else for his staff to do.
He let out a sigh and looked over at Paul. “Check and see if something’s going on today that we don’t know about. Find me an excuse to give the area manager. An outbreak of plague would be ideal.”
“No problem, governor.” Paul typed away with his gold-ringed fingers.
Just then, Chelsea re-joined them, having finished her lunch in the back. She looked at the empty shop floor and then over at Nick, before pulling a face.
“I know, I know” he said to her. “If it stays like this much longer, I’ll probably send you home. No point the three of us being here.”
No point even one of us being here at this rate.
If it was up to him they all would have left already; he would’ve closed up shop and called it a day. But Head Office didn’t allow him to make such judgement calls. They paid him to be there ten hours a day and that’s exactly how long they expected him to stay, whether there was any need for it or not. There was no requirement for Paul and Chelsea to suffer, though.
I think they might slip into a coma if things get any more boring.
Oh, to hell with it. I can manage things here on my own for a couple of hours.
Nick was just about to tell both Paul and Chelsea to go home when, finally, a customer entered the store.
“Hallelujah,” Nick said under his breath, before prodding a member
of his staff gently on the arm. “Go get him, Chels. We need to get a contract out of this guy or I’m screwed on the conference call tonight.”
“No sweat,” said Chelsea, flicking her long blonde hair behind her back. “Watch a sales-ninja at work.”
She swaggered over to the customer, her trademark fake smile switched on full beam. The customer didn’t seem to notice her approach, though. He slumped up against the central display where the live demo-phones were lined up on painted-steel pedestals. The man hunched over a Nokia smartphone so closely that he was probably smelling the lithium in the battery.
Great, Nick thought to himself. Our first customer in hours is a pisshead.
Nick decided to shadow Chelsea, just in case she got into problems. The girl had a short fuse with difficult customers, and a drunk would certainly qualify as a potential trigger for her teenaged temper.
“Are you okay there, sir?” Chelsea asked the man.
He remained hunched over, almost like he didn’t even hear her.
“I said, are you okay there, mate?” Chelsea was already beginning to look irritable, and her tone had changed. She turned to Nick and shook her head.
Nick eased her aside with his hand and stepped up beside the customer. It was best for a manager to deal with anyone who was going to be a problem.
Sales people should be free to sell. Managers should be free to deal with all the headaches.
“Sir, are you okay?” he asked politely. “I’m afraid you can’t sleep it off here.”
Still no response from the hunched-over man.
Nick reached out a hand. He was quickly getting impatient. “Sir, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go someplace else.”
The man shot upright like an uncoiling spring. He turned to Nick with swollen, bloodshot eyes. A thin strand of saliva hung pendulously from his lower lip, ready to make a break for the floor at any moment. The man’s entire expression was vacant and faraway.
Yikes!
Nick took a step backwards, his stomach flipping over like a wet pancake. “What the heck is wrong with you, man?”
The customer swayed on his feet and groaned unintelligibly. If he had been drinking, then he must have drunk a shitload.
“I…I’m not feeling well,” said the man. His voice was thick, as though he had spoken with a swollen tongue.
“No shit,” said Paul from over by the laptops. “You look rough, mate.”
The groaning man wobbled for a moment, then managed to speak again. “I…I don’t think I can make it home. W-will you call my wife for me, please?”
Nick found himself staring for a moment, speechless. The stink coming off the other man was foul, even worse than the sickly sight of him.
Maybe he’s diabetic or something. Don’t they have a funny smell right before a coma?
Nick managed to find his voice. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “Chelsea, will you grab my mobile, please?”
Chelsea hurried over to the sales desk and procured Nick’s phone for him. She handed it over gingerly, almost as if he was contagious of something merely for talking with the smelly man in the store.
“What’s the number for your wife?” Nick asked.
The man’s eyes rolled in his skull and it seemed like he might pass out for a moment. Eventually, he managed to give a reply. “It’s…it’s – one moment. It’s 07…0798…07985…”
It took about a minute in total before the man gave out his full phone number. When Nick dialled it a woman picked up on the other end and asked who was calling.
“Oh, hi. This is Nick Adams. I’m calling from Touch Pad, one of the phone shops in town. I have your husband here with me. I’m…I’m afraid he’s not feeling very well. He needs someone to come and collect him. Would you be able to make it into town?”
Nick clutched the phone tightly to his ear and listened while the woman informed him that she could be at the store in twenty minutes. The thought of having to babysit the sick man during that time wasn’t something he was relishing, but what worried him even more was that the man’s wife also sounded pretty sick. The voice on the other end of the phone was disorientated and thick with mucus.
“Okay,” Nick uttered into his mobile as the conversation neared its end. He swallowed a spongy lump halfway down his throat. “S-see you soon.” He slid the phone into his pocket and smiled at his sickly guest, who was standing unsteadily beside him. “Your wife is on her way. She won’t be long. Perhaps you should take a seat while you wait.”
“I’ll make the poor sod a cuppa,” said Paul, already wandering off towards the back. “Looks like he could use one.”
Nick led the sick man over to the carpeted sales area where there were several places to sit. The reason that part of the floor was carpeted was to make people feel at home, relaxed and more inclined to buy. Nick thought the theory was rubbish, but what did he know?
As the sick man took a seat on one of the area’s plush, cubed sofas, Nick was forced to arc his head away as malignant body odour threatened to make his eyes water. The stench seemed to drift off the other man in hot, humid waves. Nick made sure to sit on the opposite side of the desk. But even that was too close.
“Should I do anything?” Chelsea asked him. She looked sick to her stomach and was fidgeting with her hair.
Nick waved a hand at her. “Just go, Chelsea. Paul and I will be okay to hold down the fort.”
The young girl’s shoulders loosened with relief. “You sure, boss?”
“Yeah, just get out of here. I’ll see you when you’re next in.”
She skipped off to the staffroom to get her things while Paul returned with three mugs of piping hot tea. He placed them down on the desk and slid the cleanest one towards their poorly guest. “Here ya go, fella. Drink up.”
“Thank you,” the man replied weakly. He seemed to have gotten a little better since sitting down, but was still looked decidedly unwell. “I’m sorry to put you all out like this,” he said. “I just felt as though I was going to pass out. I just…I just headed into the nearest shop.”
“So you’re not interested in getting yourself a shiny new phone then?” Paul joked.
The man didn’t laugh. His head kept falling towards the desk as if he was having trouble holding it up.
“So what’s wrong with you?” Nick asked.
The man shook his head and spattered the vinyl surface of the desk with bubbling drops of spittle. “I-I don’t know. I’ve been feeling under the weather since yesterday morning. It got really bad this afternoon, though. I think I must have the flu or something.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, probably. Might be worth getting yourself down to see the quack. People underestimate the flu and how bad it can make you feel.”
The man nodded. “Soon as my wife picks me up, I’ll be heading straight to my local doctor, don’t you worry.”
“Your wife sounded pretty poorly, too,” Nick mentioned.
“She has whatever I have, but she only started feeling ill this morning. Must have caught it from me.”
Nick sipped his tea and tried to ignore the smell of wet fart drifting continuously over from the other side of the table. “Well, I hope you get well soon, buddy, because you look like death warmed up.”
The man’s head slumped to the desk with a thud!
Paul and Nick exchanged worried glances.
***
Fifteen minutes later when his wife arrived, the man was still face down on the sales desk.
His wife tottered into the shop looking almost as bad as he did. Her eyes were bulging and bloodshot, just like her husbands, but they seemed a little more lucid and less dazed. Her mousy brown hair, still kept neat in a tight ponytail, gave her the look of a woman that just soldiered on, no matter the weather.
“Hi,” Nick said to her, keeping his distance.
“I’m here to take George home,” she said, before sneezing three times in quick succession. “Is he…is he here?”
“Yes,” Nick pointed to him, �
��but I think he’s napping.”
The woman staggered towards the sales area at the back of the store. Her steps were uncoordinated and clumsy. Her husband – George – managed to lift his head and look at her as she came over to him. He seemed unable to do anything more than that, though, and remained seated.
Nick shook his head. Wow. I really hope I don’t catch what they have.
Paul headed over and placed one of his thick hands on George’s shoulder. “The missus will get you to the doctor now, fella. You’ll be right as rain.”
Like a thrashing animal, George snapped his teeth at Paul’s hand, clamping down his jaws like a salivating pit bull. Paul yelled out, yanking back his hand back and wrenching it free. He clutched it to his chest and cursed in his native Punjab. “Haram Jada!”
George looked completely startled, as if he had no idea what he had just done. “I…I’m so sorry. I…”
“George!” his wife cried. “What the bloody hell are you playing at?”
He looked tiny and afraid; a scolded man. “I’m so sorry,” he gushed at Paul. “I…I don’t know what came over me.”
Paul shook his injured hand and seemed totally bewildered by what had just happened. “N-no problem, fella,” he said. “I’ll just put it down to the fever.”
Nick frowned at George’s wife. “Maybe you should get him to a doctor, right away.”
She nodded, embarrassed. Then quickly ushered her husband away, chastising him all the way out of the shop.
When it was just Nick and Paul left alone in the store again, they looked at each other in confusion.
“The fuck just happened?” said Paul.
Nick shrugged. “Hell if I know. How’s your hand?”
“Hurts like a mother. That gandoo broke the skin. I probably got rabies or something.”
“Then you best stay away from me. I don’t want to start frothing at the mouth and biting people. That guy was a mess.”
Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel Page 1