Micah took the piece of paper from him and studied it. “I feel strangely honoured.”
“There’s what?!”
Everyone turned to look at Bates.
“No, I’ll deal with it,” he said into his radio. “Where are they now? ... Keep me updated.”
“Bates?” Dent said. “What’s up?”
He leaned down into the car and came out with a map. “There’s a second horde,” he said, unfolding the street guide onto the bonnet and producing a small torch. “It’s much smaller. One of the other choppers is leading it.”
“Did you say a second horde?” Alex said, walking up beside him. “Where?”
“They’re entering the city here.” Bates pointed to an area on the north west edge.
A feeling of dread skittered up Alex’s spine. “Which way are they heading?”
“East.”
Alex drew a line with his eyes across the map, hoping he was wrong. He wasn’t. “The lab. They’re heading for the lab.”
He ran back to his bike, grabbing his helmet. He should never have left.
“Alex, stop.” Micah grabbed his arm.
Alex shook his hand away. “I have to get back there.”
Micah stepped between him and the bike. “Stop and think for a second. Boot is after us.” He held the paper up and shook it as evidence. “He’s sending the biggest horde after us. If you go back to the lab, you’ll be leading both hordes back there.”
Alex stopped pulling his helmet on.
“You know I’m right,” Micah said.
He did. He wished he didn’t.
“We’ll go,” Dent said. “That lab and those doctors may be the only hope we have of stopping all of this. Can you take down the chopper leading the horde coming for you without us?”
Bates rolled his eyes. “The military and your superior attitudes. Always think you’re the only ones who can get the job done.”
Dent stared at him for a few seconds then smiled. “Bates, I like you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Alex might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw Bates’ chest puff out a little.
“Let’s go,” Dent said, waving one hand at the APV as she strode towards it.
Ridgewell, Collins, Porter and Hudson followed.
“Try not to blow yourself up this time,” Ridgewell called as he climbed in.
“But it was so much fun,” Micah called back.
The door slamming cut off the sound of Ridgewell’s laughter. The APV’s engine fired up and they took off in the direction of the lab.
“As we no longer have the APV, we’re going to have to change our tactics somewhat,” Bates said. “Here’s what we’re going to do...”
31
Darren fought down a wave of nausea as he held the door open.
He saw Harris press the trigger, but the muffled pop of the pheromone cartridge firing was drowned out by the sound of the helicopter’s engine. In the low pre-dawn light he couldn’t see the cartridge detonate either, but the horde kept on course. He pulled the door shut quickly, not wanting to look down at the seething mass below for longer than absolutely necessary. Harris laid the bug gun on the seat between them.
It was a strange nickname for the projectile weapon they used to launch the pheromone cartridges. Trying to distract himself from the movement of the helicopter and the thought of the very long drop to the horde on the ground, Darren’s mind wandered, trying to remember who had come up with the moniker. Probably one of the scientists back at Omnav, before Boot had them all killed. He remembered it had something to do with reminding someone of those plastic kids’ toys that fired hollow balls. Kelly, that was it. Doctor Ray Kelly. He’d drawn insects on the balls for his son’s toy when the kid developed an entomological interest. From then on his young son had called it a bug gun and Doctor Kelly had called the pheromone guns the same thing when he’d based their design on the toys.
Darren also remembered Doctor Kelly begging for his life when Boot ordered them all infected after they refused to continue obeying him. He pushed that memory away. It was Kelly’s own fault. At times like these you did what you had to. To survive. To come out on top.
“One mile to the facility,” Fitzwilliam said from the pilot’s seat.
“Good,” Chester replied from the passenger seat beside him. “Just keep it slow and steady. We don’t want to lose these buggers in the dark.”
“Should’ve brought Jessup with us,” Harris said.
“Mr Boot wanted him with the main horde, so he can spot MacCallum if he shows up,” Chester said. “He doesn’t want anyone else to have the pleasure of killing him.”
When he shows up, Darren thought. There was no question of if. MacCallum had a ridiculously overdeveloped hero complex. How he stayed alive, Darren had no idea. Of course, he’d had the perfect opportunity to fix that back at the hotel in Cambridge. He still wasn’t entirely certain why he hadn’t shot the Survivor. He’d told himself it was because Boot wanted to kill MacCallum himself. Sometimes, he even believed it.
“Did you see that?” Fitz said, peering ahead of them.
Darren leaned forward, looking over Chester’s shoulder. “What?”
“I thought I saw something moving up there.”
“What kind of something?” Chester said, also staring through the windscreen.
“I’m not sure. A car maybe?”
Now all four of them were peering into the gloom. The helicopter’s headlights illuminated the street ahead to some extent, but there were still large pockets of darkness everywhere, the lights making it extra hard to see anything not within their range.
A shape shot from a side street ahead of them, swerving round the corner into their path and driving straight for them. It took Darren a moment to recognise it as the soldiers they’d been after for days. Bullets pinged off the helicopter’s hull. Fitz pulled on the joystick, lifting them into the air and swerving away.
“That damn humvee,” Chester said.
“Armoured Patrol Vehicle,” Darren muttered, trying to ignore his gut which was now lurking somewhere around his feet.
“What?”
“Farrell used to make these things when he worked in the factories. He called it an Armoured Patrol Vehicle. APV.”
“I don’t care what it’s called; it’s a pain in my proverbial. How many grenades do we have left?”
Fitz checked the readout on his dashboard. “Twelve.”
“Good. Let’s get rid of them.”
The APV turned off the road before it reached the horde. Fitz brought the chopper back around in a sharp turn and flew in the direction it had gone. Cresting the intervening buildings, they found the APV in the next street across, racing away from them. Fitz sped after it.
Darren watched the APV’s roof mounted machine gun rotate towards them. “They’re going to shoot!”
Fitz veered right as the gun opened fire. Darren’s seatbelt dug into his chest, his heart pounding as he was thrown to his left. Beside him, Harris cursed as he slammed against the door on his side.
“Get us closer,” Chester said, clutching the control for the grenade launcher.
Fitz pushed them up above the surrounding buildings and circled to come at them from the side. Darren dug his fingers into the leather seat beneath him. The APV’s machine gun swivelled towards them, but wasn’t fast enough. Chester fired as they sped over the moving vehicle. The thump of the explosion shook the helicopter.
Darren looked back, pressing his face to the window next to him to see what damage the grenade had done. There was a hole in the centre of the street. The APV was driving away from it, unharmed.
“Missed,” he said.
“Damn it,” Chester snapped. “Fitz, take us down to twenty feet so I can aim at them instead of in front of them.”
“That’ll take us between the buildings,” Fitz said. “I’ll have to slow down and we’ll have nowhere to go if they start shooting.”
“I only need a few seco
nds,” Chester said. “Do it.”
They followed the APV as it turned a corner onto a road running back towards the horde. Fitz took them down, dipping below the roof level of the surrounding three and four storey buildings. The machine gun swivelled towards them.
“Chester?” Fitz said, sounding nervous.
“Just a little lower,” Chester said, staring at his targeting screen.
“Why aren’t they shooting?” Darren murmured.
Harris replied, even though the question was largely rhetorical. “Maybe they’re out of ammo.”
A feeling of dread shivered up Darren’s spine. Something wasn’t right. As he stared at the APV, a flash caught his eye. A reflection of the helicopter’s headlights on something ahead of them.
Something suspended between the buildings.
“Pull up!” he yelled.
The chopper juddered as Fitz jerked the joystick back. Chester shouted.
Then they hit.
Darren was thrown forward. The air exploded from his lungs, the seatbelt ramming into his chest. Someone was screaming. The world spun and flipped until he no longer knew which way was up. The screech of tortured metal filled his ears.
A thunderous crash as they hit the ground and skidded across the asphalt.
Glass shattering.
His body lurched and jolted.
The screaming stopped in a sickening gurgle.
Darren sank into unconsciousness.
32
Micah kept one foot on the ground, his bike idling beneath him while he waited for the shooting to start.
The T-junction ahead of him was empty, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Even though he couldn’t hear them, he knew the horde was out there. As they weren’t on the attack yet, they were quiet. Micah hated this new stealth mode the eaters had developed. Their moans may have been enough to make his stomach migrate into his shoes, but at least he could hear them coming. Silence was worse.
He could hear the helicopter leading them in though, somewhere off to his right. He could also hear the Porsche Janie, Brian, Bates and Penny were using. It wouldn’t be long now.
Even though he’d been waiting for it, the sudden sound of gunfire made him jump. He sat up straight, revving the bike’s engine for no other reason than it sounded cool and helped to get him worked up. He felt the need for a bit of adrenaline to counteract his nerves.
The sound of the Porsche was approaching fast now and Micah realised he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly.
The car flew past the end of the street in a dim blur of red paint. No headlights. With Janie driving, they didn’t need them. He only just glimpsed Penny, Bates and Brian hanging out the windows, rifles pumping bullets into the sky behind. Two seconds later the helicopter followed, underside lit by the muzzle flashes from its guns.
Micah took off along the road, making it to the T-junction in less than five seconds. To his left the Porsche was already so far away he could barely see it in the gloom, the helicopter trailing close behind. He looked to his right. His heart leapt when he saw the road less than fifty feet away crammed wall to wall with eaters, slightly closer than he was expecting.
“Guys!” He shouted to get their attention, throwing in a wave for good measure. “Sorry, and girls of course. Shall we go for a walk?”
The horde erupted in a cacophony of moans and lumbered towards him as he pulled out in front of them. Weirdly, the sound was reassuring. It was the new normal.
He took the next turning to the right, diverting the horde towards the river and, most importantly, the Church Street bridge. In the distance, he could hear sporadic gunfire. That was good. It meant the helicopter was still after Bates and the others. The distraction was working.
He led the horde across another two streets and then veered left. Ahead of him, the buildings ended at the river. He glanced back to check the horde was still following, but he couldn’t see the back end so he just had to go on trust that they were all there. Alex’s nose would have been useful, to tell him if they were releasing the irresistible natural pheromones. But Alex had another job to do.
Now he was within a couple of hundred yards of the bridge, Micah could see it was empty. He was just wondering if he should start worrying when he heard the unmistakable sound of the sports car and the Porsche raced onto the street ahead of him, coming to a halt at the start of the bridge in a flurry of screeching brakes and burning rubber.
Relieved, Micah sped up to meet them.
“Everything good?” he said when Janie rolled down the window.
“It will be when Janie stops hogging the wheel and gives me a turn driving,” Bates said from the passenger seat.
She caressed the leather clad steering wheel. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I’m beginning to understand why men like these things so much. Turns out it might not just be overcompensation for their tiny...”
“Don’t say it,” Bates growled.
Janie grinned.
“You are enjoying this way too much,” Micah said. “Did the switch go okay?”
“Worked perfectly,” Penny said from the back seat. “They went straight after Alex. I think Boot must have given them all orders to find the two of you.”
They’d been counting on it. Micah wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that they’d been right. “You go on to the other side. I’m going to make sure the horde gets here and wait for Alex.”
“Okay,” Janie said.
She revved the engine and took off so fast Micah was left coughing and waving away a cloud of smoke and carbon monoxide.
He watched the horde getting closer. “Come on, Alex,” he murmured.
The sound of the helicopter was somewhere nearby and he hoped that was the reason he couldn’t hear Alex’s bike. He held onto his bike’s handles, his index fingers tapping out an impatient rhythm on the rubber as he watched the space between him and the eaters shrinking.
“Micah, what are you doing?” Janie shouted.
They had reached the far side of the bridge and were out of the car. Micah glanced back at them before returning his attention to the road ahead and the approaching horde.
“Come on, Alex, where are you?”
The leading eaters had almost reached the final side street before the bridge. Any closer and Micah would be forced to cross without him.
“Damn it.” He looked back at the group on the far side of the river. “Get the horde onto the bridge and blow it,” he shouted. “Alex and I’ll get across somewhere else. We’ll meet you back in East Town.”
“Be careful, Clarke,” Bates yelled.
Micah started his bike, gave them a wave, and drove straight at the eaters. He reached the side street at the same time as the first wave, taking the corner slower than he would have before his crash the previous day. Shouting came from the direction of the bridge as his friends coaxed the horde away from following him. He looked back to see a few stumbling in his direction, but most were still en route to the bridge. At least that part was working, but he and Alex had planned to be there on the other side of the river. By now he should have been used to the reality of their plans being no more than vague starting points.
The sound of the helicopter was echoing from the surrounding buildings making it difficult to pinpoint its location, but as far as Micah could tell he was heading in the general direction. After a few turns he glimpsed the black chopper and drove towards it. Focused on the sky as he rounded a corner, he almost ran into the motorcycle lying on its side in the middle of the road.
He swerved, just managing to avoid the obstacle, and stopped. It was Alex’s and in terrible condition, riddled with bullet holes and smoke rising from the engine.
Micah looked around. “Alex?”
There was no response.
Not caring who or what heard him, he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed, “ALEX!”
Still no answer.
Then the shooting started.
Micah took off in the direction of the s
ound of gunfire and seconds later he reached the helicopter. It was hovering in front of a petrol station, spraying bullets across the forecourt. Micah saw Alex crouching behind one of the pumps and breathed out. He was alive.
The helicopter stopped firing and a voice spoke from a loudspeaker Micah didn’t know it had. “Give it up, MacCallum, there’s no way out. Mr Boot just wants to talk to you.”
Alex looked around and saw Micah. Micah held up his pistol and Alex nodded.
Taking careful aim at the helicopter’s tail rotor, Micah fired four rounds. It was more hope than anything else that he would do any damage, and he didn’t. But he did get their attention. As they began to rotate towards him Micah stopped firing and took off, driving directly beneath the chopper. Alex darted from his hiding place and leaped on behind him before he’d even stopped. Micah crushed the throttle and they sped off down the road. Bullets and the helicopter followed.
Micah slalomed his way around corner after corner, hoping to use their greater agility between the buildings to lose their pursuers. A huge boom split the air, drowning out even the helicopter’s engine.
The bridge.
One small part of Micah rejoiced that at least some of their plan had worked. The rest of him focused on driving at speed through the streets without killing them both. Thankfully the people left in the city had cleared away the abandoned cars in this area. The last thing they needed right now was obstacles to hinder their escape.
After a couple of minutes the sound of the helicopter seemed to be falling behind. Micah looked back and up, but couldn’t see it.
He raised his voice above the engine. “I think we might have lost...”
They turned another corner. A wall of eaters blocked the road.
Too close to stop, they ploughed into the horde.
33
His shin itched.
He wanted to scratch it, but his arms wouldn’t move. It was annoying. All he wanted to do was sleep, but the itch wouldn’t go away. If he could only move, he could scratch and then return to hibernation. He tried again, but it was like trying to swim through tar.
Twenty-Five Percent (Book 3): Vengeance Page 20