“We might not be able to avoid it,” Alex said.
Sam sighed. “I know.”
A steaming mug descended into Alex’s field of vision and he took it, glancing up at the tall, blond man who’d brought him and Micah coffee.
“Thanks, Logan,” he said to Janie’s twenty-three year old son.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam’s smile disappear.
Logan held out a plate. “Biscuit?”
Both Micah and Alex took a bourbon cream. Sam shook his head.
“Claire?” Logan said.
From her place on the other side of Sam, Claire looked up from where she’d been talking to Kenny and flashed Logan a smile, taking a digestive from the plate. “Thanks.”
Alex felt Sam tense next to him.
Logan winked at her. “Anytime.”
Sam shifted, dropping his gaze to his lap.
Alex had assumed from how close they’d been during their time at Omnav that Sam and Claire would have been even closer by now. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Alex felt for Sam. The young man was obviously crazy about her.
It made Alex think of Hannah and he carefully pushed her face from his mind. He needed to keep it together.
The general murmur of conversation in the room came to a sudden halt as a shrill whistle pierced the air.
“I think Janie might be trying to get our attention,” Micah muttered, nodding towards her where she stood in front of the TV.
“Welcome to my childhood,” Logan said before going to find a vacant cushion on the floor.
“Okay people,” Janie said, “we all know why we’re here. The psychotic jerk with the power to control eater hordes is on his way. Basically, we’re up that creek and our paddle has been eaten by a crocodile, so we need ideas. Bates?”
Bates stepped forward. One of his lackeys - Paul, Peter, Pancake, something like that, Alex couldn’t remember exactly - followed and Blu-tacked a huge map to the wall. It looked very much like the map of the city Alex had seen in Bates’ office weeks ago, although it had lost all the red dots Bates had used to mark out the homes of Survivors.
“We can’t say for sure what Harvey Boot has planned,” Bates said, “but we can be sure it will involve hordes of eaters. We could be looking at something of a siege situation here before long, so we need to be prepared. MacCallum and Clarke are going to be trying to stop Boot before he gets here, but in the event that fails we need to be prepared to take out large amounts of eaters. So we’re here to brainstorm. Let’s hear your ideas.”
Alex leaned close to Micah. “We’re doing what?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
A plethora of suggestions followed, every one of which was written down, no matter how outlandish. Some of them actually sounded like they had a chance of working. As eaters couldn’t swim water featured heavily, and it was clear the river would be a large part of their defence.
“Maybe we could dowse them in paraffin and set them on fire,” Logan said after a while.
“NO!” Alex and Micah yelled at the same time.
Bates frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me. With the way they stick close together, the fire would spread quickly.”
“We’ve seen what happens when you set an eater on fire,” Micah said. “Believe me, all it does is make them even harder to kill.”
“But...”
“Imagine an eater in this room right now,” Micah said. Everyone gazed into space as they conjured up the scenario. “Now imagine that eater on fire.”
Eyes widened. Heads nodded. A few people said, “Ohhh,” as understanding dawned.
It was universally agreed not to set any eaters on fire.
Alex was quiet through the whole meeting. The reality of what was coming was weighing increasingly heavily on him, bringing with it an unhealthy dose of guilt. Boot wasn’t coming for his friends and neighbours. He wasn’t even coming for Micah. He was coming for Alex, and everyone here would get caught in the crossfire.
Just like Hannah had.
After an hour, he couldn’t take it anymore. Not saying anything, he stood, made his way across the packed room, and left. Heart pounding, he almost ran down the corridor to the street to breathe in the fresh air.
When the door to Janie’s building opened behind him, he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“You know this isn’t your fault.”
Alex stared up into the overcast sky, his mood greyer than the low clouds. “Do I?”
“Well if you don’t, you should.” Micah walked up beside him, his hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans, and followed his gaze. “I wonder how eaters feel about rain. Do they prefer to not get wet like the rest of us?”
“He’s coming for me,” Alex said. “How can I not feel guilty? I’m bringing this down on everyone here.”
“Boot’s insane, you know that. He was just waiting for someone to take out his pent up lunacy on. You were simply convenient. It could as easily have been me, one of the docs, a passing rabbit, anyone. It just happened to be you. You were actually a pretty random choice for his vitriol. Face it, you’re just not that special.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?”
Micah shrugged one shoulder. “Is it working?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I gave it my best shot. It also happens to be true.”
Alex sighed. “If I left, if Boot knew I wasn’t here...”
“He may attack Sarcester anyway, just to use it for target practice, and then how would you feel? Besides, for all you know he’s not even coming here for you. Brian, Ben and Rick worked for him for years, he could be coming after them. Or maybe he’s coming to get Dave, Pauline and Larry back to work on the virus. Or he could be after me for blowing up his lab. Or it could be option E: he’s a maniac who doesn’t need a reason. We have no idea what’s going through his twisted brain.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a parked car. “Those people in there, your friends, they’d do anything for you. And they’re tough and savvy so let them. Together, I think we have a good chance of stopping Boot, no matter what he throws at us. And he has to be stopped. He can’t be allowed to sell this new virus to the rest of the world. It has to end here, and we have to end it.”
They were silent while Alex thought through everything Micah had said. He hated to admit it, but he was right. They didn’t know what Boot’s motivations were. If only it was as simple as running and leading Boot away, he would do it in a heartbeat.
“Remind me again why we have to be the ones to stop him?” Alex said.
Micah shrugged. “I’m still trying to work that one out myself.”
At the sound of the door opening behind them Alex looked round to see Leon and Sam walk out.
“You all right?” Leon said.
Alex glanced at Micah. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
Sam walked over to him. “You don’t have to worry about us, we’ll be okay. You can just do your superhero Survivor stuff and catch Boot and we’ll stop the eaters. We have lots of good ideas. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Alex wished he shared Sam’s optimism, but he smiled anyway. “I’m sure you’re right.”
4
Darren Frobisher attempted to relieve the stiffness in his long legs by flexing his muscles without moving.
When the dull ache remained, he shifted in his seat a little, hoping the tiny movement wouldn’t upset the balance of the helicopter. To his relief, they didn’t plummet to a fiery death. After waiting half a minute to be certain, he got up the courage to move some more, inching around until he was stretched out sideways. Next to him, Harris threw him an irritated look as his own legroom shrank. Darren shrugged and mouthed an insincere apology, but didn’t pull his legs back. At a mere six foot three, Harris was one of the smallest of Harvey Boot’s security force. Darren’s extra half a foot needed the space more than he did.
He glanced out the window next to him at the predominan
tly green scenery flying by beneath them and immediately snapped his gaze back up, his heart pounding. Mile upon mile of fields, towns and villages were passing, but he didn’t need to see them from this high up. And eater hordes of course. Always the eater hordes.
Attempting to ignore the very long drop beneath them, Darren looked over at the second helicopter off to their left. He could just see Chester inside, sitting next to Tim Pinner in the pilot’s seat. Behind them Jessup’s large frame mostly obscured their boss, Harvey Boot, and beyond him the two women. Boot probably got a perverted thrill at seeing his creations roaming the countryside, either devouring or infecting everyone they found.
The third helicopter was somewhere behind them, but he didn’t dare twist around enough to see it. Turning to the front, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Here they were, flying a couple of hundred miles in these ridiculously small and fragile machines, and for what?
When Darren started working for Boot six years ago, it had been primarily for the money. Yes, he’d had to move halfway across the country from his home in Bristol, but it felt good to have a change, especially after he’d caught his girlfriend of three years cheating on him with a friend he’d known since school. A fresh start was exactly what he needed, and he admired Harvey Boot. The man had clawed his way to the top, taking over one of the most powerful corporations in the country. If Darren was going to get anywhere, he couldn’t do much better than learning from Harvey Boot.
Now, though, he wasn’t so sure. Not that he would ever say anything to anyone. There was always the danger something like that could make its way back to his boss and he’d seen firsthand what happened to those who dared to speak out. He’d even been complicit in it, even though he was strictly following orders. But those people had been stupid, putting themselves in a fight they had no chance of winning. Darren felt no shame for what he’d done. They’d brought what happened to them down on themselves. The world, their part of it at least, had changed. Self-preservation was what would keep him alive and, if he was smart about it, he could even come out on top.
He just wished coming out on top didn’t have to involve so much flying.
Boot’s helicopter began its descent towards the city of Cambridge and Darren’s stomach lurched as they followed. Despite his reluctance to look down, he couldn’t help admiring the historic universities clustered around the river Cam, their ancient architecture now unappreciated by the thousands upon thousands of eaters roaming the streets in huge hordes. He suppressed a shiver and looked away.
After all this was over, he intended to go somewhere completely devoid of Meir’s disease. Maybe he’d buy an island with the substantial bonus Boot had promised them once he sold the weaponised version of the virus. An island he could reach by boat. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t be getting quite enough money for an entire island, but that didn’t matter. Just so long as he never had to see another eater again.
After passing over the historic city they followed Boot’s helicopter down to the car park of a two storey hotel where they’d be spending the night. Darren closed his eyes until he felt the chopper touch the ground. Takeoffs and landings were the worst bits. Although the parts in between weren’t a lot of fun either. He opened his eyes to find Harris watching him. Darren stared back, silently daring him to say something. Harris looked away, a tiny smirk on his face.
When all three helicopters were settled, their rotors lazily easing to a standstill, Chester got out with one of the pheromone guns and fired a cartridge into the air. The couple of dozen eaters heading towards them changed direction, gathering in a group some way away beneath the detonation point.
With the immediate area clear, Darren opened his door and climbed down from the flying monstrosity. He resisted the urge to drop to his knees and kiss the ground.
“Bish, Jessup, Baxter, you’re with me,” Chester called. “Bish, bring a bug gun.”
Darren reached back into the helicopter for the pheromone gun, pocketed a few blue and green cartridges, and jogged after Chester to the front entrance of the hotel. He looked up at the blue and white sign over the doors of the blocky sixties building. Wright Hotel and Restaurant. B&B. All rooms en-suite. Satellite TV. It didn’t exactly look five star, but Darren had stayed in worse.
“Glove up,” Chester said, waggling a black-clad hand, “we don’t want any noise. Only shoot if you absolutely have to. That means life or death.” He looked at Jessup.
Jessup glared at him. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
Chester smiled. “Loosen up, Jess. This is the fun bit.”
“Fun. Right.”
Darren shrugged off his black suit jacket and laid it over the low wall beside the doors, then pulled a pair of the elbow length black Meir’s resistant gloves from his trouser pocket and tugged them on, rolling up his shirt sleeves so he could pull them all the way up. He wasn’t taking any chances. Beside him, Baxter did the same.
“Okay,” Chester said, “everyone ready?”
“Let’s just get it over with,” Darren said.
Why on earth was Chester so perky today? Other than because Boot’s PA, Valerie, had been back in the helicopter with him. And they were about to take over a building full of bedrooms.
Oh. That was why.
The hotel had automatic sliding doors, but they weren’t working without power. Baxter jogged back to one of the helicopters and returned with a crowbar. A few seconds later, they were into the porch area.
Darren cupped his hands around his eyes against the glass inner doors, checking inside for eaters. “Looks clear.”
Baxter crowbarred his way through and they crept into the silent lobby. To their left, a reception desk stood against one wall. Corridors extended to both sides and straight ahead.
“Bish, you and Baxter take upstairs,” Chester said. “Jess and I will take down here. If you find a big horde, use the pheromones. Otherwise, knives only.”
A broad staircase hugged the wall to their right and Darren led the way, listening for moans. At the top a wide corridor branched left and right. Darren turned left, motioning for Baxter to take right.
Doors lined both sides of the hallway to where it turned at a corner some way ahead. The first was locked. Darren knocked. After a few seconds, something thudded against the other side of the door. Hearing a faint moan, he sighed, knowing he’d have to come back with the key and kill it. He moved on, hoping there wouldn’t be any more.
The next four doors were unlocked and a quick search of the rooms beyond confirmed them to be empty. He reached the corner and turned right, directly into the path of an eater. The woman focused its vacant eyes on him, opening its mouth in a rasping moan as it grasped his right wrist.
He dropped the pheromone gun, grunting in pain, and tried to pull away, but the eater was too strong. He jerked his arm away from its snapping mouth, fumbling with his free hand for the knife sheathed at his side. The eater reached for him with its other hand. Clenching his right fist and locking his elbow, he swung the eater against the wall with all his strength, managing to twist the arm gripping his wrist behind it. He kicked at the back of its knee and the eater fell, pulling Darren down on top of it.
“Damn, woman, let go,” he groaned, grimacing. It felt like all the bones in his wrist were being crushed.
With his body pinning the eater face down on the floor, he finally managed to unclip the knife sheath and, with some awkward squirming, pulled the ten inch blade free. The grip on his wrist finally relaxed when he pushed it into the eater’s ear
Darren breathed out.
“Would you two like some time alone?” Baxter stood a few feet away, a smirk on his face.
“How long have you been there?” Darren said as he climbed off the eater’s back. He wiped blood and brain matter from the knife blade onto the woman’s floral blouse and slid it back into its sheath.
Baxter shrugged. “Not long. You seemed to have it under control.”
Darren didn’t reply, doubting Baxter wo
uld have helped even if the eater had been about to shred him into mincemeat. He shook out his wrist then probed it gently, relieved to find it seemed to be in one piece.
“Have you finished your end yet?” he said when Baxter didn’t move.
“No. Just waiting to see if you need any more rescuing.”
Darren wanted to punch the smirk off his face. Instead, he turned away and headed for the next door, annoyed, and walked in without checking first.
A wooden chair hit his shoulder.
He staggered back against the doorframe as a man and woman darted past him into the hallway. There was the sound of a fist hitting a face.
“What the...?”
Regaining his balance, Darren ran back outside. He found Baxter clutching his jaw with one hand while aiming his pistol around the corner with the other.
Lunging at him, Darren smacked the gun down. Along the hallway, the young couple reached the stairs and disappeared out of sight.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Baxter snapped.
“They were just a couple of kids hiding out here. They didn’t deserve to get shot for it.”
Baxter glared at him and holstered his pistol. “If you ever do that to me again, I’ll....” He stopped, drawing in a breath and looking away.
“You’ll what, Baxter? Tell me, what are you going to do?”
Baxter shook his head, scowling, and stalked back towards his side of the building. Darren got the distinct impression he’d have a bullet in his head right now if it wasn’t for the fact that Boot would be very unhappy if he lost one of his guards. He would have smiled at the irony if he wasn’t so angry. How did he end up in this? That island was looking more and more tempting, and not just to get away from the eaters.
There was no one else on the first floor, eater or otherwise, and Darren fetched the key to the room with the eater trapped inside and dispatched it with a knife into the eye socket with the door open just enough to give him access. Jessup took both bodies outside. Darren didn’t know where he put them. It didn’t really matter since they were only going to be here for one night.
Twenty-Five Percent (Book 3): Vengeance Page 3