by Stevens, GJ
The scream called again, louder this time, and I felt the rumble of Shadow’s growl between my legs. Stroking down his back, but being careful not to go near the wound, I watched as Thompson let his pistol drop before turning his attention back ahead.
“What are you seeing back there?” Thompson asked.
“Shapes, that’s all, but they’re moving on us fast,” Sherlock replied.
With the bass bellow of an impact where the bumper should have been, I twisted back to the rubbish bins across the road and the remains of the plastic pushed to scrape against the rough tarmac. In the tight turn, the suspension cushioned much of our roll over the debris, but I couldn’t help wincing at each crack of snapping plastic, imagining the shards perilously close to the fragile tyres.
The bumper kissed the brick, rocking us to the side; the rev of the engine kept us rolling, but at a pace I could easily out-walk.
With the smell of sour decay growing, the driver straightened up the wheel as the lane narrowed ahead to culminate in an archway with a wide-open road the other side. Despite the distance, it seemed far too small for our width to squeeze through. Hope rushed up through my chest when through the archway I saw a flash of a white vehicle across the view, and then another.
“Dead six. Single contact. Fast approaching from the rear,” Gibson called from the back in an almost business-like tone.
They were the words we dreaded, despite having heard the shrill calls. Our speed built, even though the view gave us no hope we’d be able to make it out into the open to race at full speed from the danger at our backs. The rush of plastic we carried with us grew louder as more discarded flotsam added to the procession.
“Gibson?” Thompson called without turning, but he didn’t reply, his face pushed to the rear glass with hands swiping left and right to clear the moisture. A heavy thud to the thin metal roof sent a shock wave across us in the cabin.
Glancing up, I called out over the scrape of the rubbish we pushed in our path. “Faster.”
“Shit. Faster,” another shouted to the sound of the roof deforming from the weight above.
Flinching at a loud bang, then to another much louder, the view through the left-hand rear window had cleared, and I realised the glass was missing, the shattered remains settling to the seats. My question as to what it could be was answered when a bloodied arm swung down from the roof, fingers grabbing at Gibson’s outstretched arm with the pistol in hand, pulling his limb up to the missing glass.
Yanking off my seatbelt, Shadow yelped as I twisted around with knees to the seat, reaching out over the back to grab at Gibson’s shoulders and anchor him down. Sherlock jabbed at the attacking arm with the butt of his rifle at our side and the bloodied hand pulled away, raking down the arm of Gibson’s jacket and drawing blood as it whipped across his hand to send the gun clattering to the pavement.
Landing back in my seat, I barely heard the new call for more speed and through the surging adrenaline, I couldn’t tell if we were getting any faster as I clicked my seatbelt into place.
Looking back, Gibson edged away from the rear window, holding his hand tight against the claw marks with Sherlock pointing his rifle’s aim between the missing window and the metal deforming above our heads.
“Hold tight,” came the words from the front, but gripping the sides of the seats, I didn’t get a chance to take in the view before being forced forward against the strap across my chest.
***
An icy breeze sent dust-filled air across my face as I drew my head up slowly against the ache. Shadow’s warm tongue greeted my hand, and I reached out, stroking his back, thankful he’d been safe in the footwell when we’d hit.
Stretching out a kink in my neck, I was about to search out his wound to check the stitches when movement through the windscreen sent my eyes wide. Searching past the great crack through the centre, the sight of the driver slumped over the steering wheel pulled me back to Thompson and Carr taking off their seatbelts.
Turning to my right, Jess helped Alex up from the footwell. Beyond, all I saw were bricks and lines of mortar up against the side windows with dark, treacle-like blood dripping down the glass. We were stuck, wedged in between the walls either side.
Cassie stared from the back row, her eyes wide, but she turned away, closing her mouth as I caught her staring.
Gibson, followed by Sherlock, rose from the space between the seats, quickly turning to search back through the rear windows, ignoring the slow drip of red from the roof.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked, my voice croaky. Drawing a deep breath, I felt a sharp sting in my chest. Listening for the murmured replies and coughed responses, only the driver hadn’t answered, not moving since we’d stopped so suddenly. With relief, he raised his head as I took a second look, but watching him settle back into his seat my blood ran ice cold at the sight of the long handle of a screwdriver sticking from his chest and the vacant, white-eyed stare to Carr beside him.
A heavy thud to the rear called us away and ignoring the pain in my neck and chest, I turned to the snarling mouth snapping at the open window and the naked figures bounding along behind us.
Sherlock shoved Gibson to the side, raising his rifle to the space at the window and fired. The bald creature’s blackened head exploded backwards before I saw anything more than fire-raged skin. Rather than feeling a sense of relief, my gaze fell to the brick wall through the glass windows with claustrophobia settling over me like a blanket as I sensed the incredible speed of the figures still racing toward us.
Turning back, I watched Jess’s lips tense to a snarl as if she were about to join in our defence. She looked to Cassie at her side, her face an almost mirror image of rage.
A heavy thud pulled my gaze to the front row of seats and I watched with alarm as Thompson slouched, his heavy-booted feet kicking out at the windscreen. The sight filled me with such relief at the chance of escape from the confinement until from the front I watched the driver lunge at Carr.
Before I threw my fist out in hope of defence, a blur flashed across my front, pushing me backward and without knowing what was going on, Carr was launched over the seats into the back, with Jess in his place, her limbs a blur. I felt relief as I realised Cassie stayed where she’d been sitting and had not joined in the animalistic attack.
Jess didn’t stop her assault as a shot rang off by her side. With the gun still in Thompson’s hand, he kicked at the windscreen, forcing it forward, then leapt through the space and on to the bonnet, kicking the sheet of glass to the ground, only to turn and stare at Jess as her motion slowed.
Bending her back, she snarled at the ragged mess in the driver’s seat. With her face smeared with thick blood, she turned my way but didn’t hold my gaze, instead looking to the three soldiers pointing their guns in her direction.
64
JESSICA
It was dark as I came around, my thoughts flashing to the memory of the shot fired, feet smashing at my side and the frigid blast of air when the windscreen fell.
With the body of the driver limp in my arms, I felt the need for more and turned, searching, but something made me stop. A look to Alex, or to Logan perhaps, made the need to get away so much stronger. And that’s what I did, launching through the window, running as if chasing prey.
I ran to an adjacent building on the corner of the road and up the stairs, the rage melting away with each step, the carnal need replaced by a nakedness, despite being fully dressed.
I felt so much fear, so much guilt at what I could only guess they would think.
I watched from the flat roof, looking to the van wedged in the archway and between the walls below as each slid down the bonnet, smearing the white paintwork with blood. I looked to my hands with the scarlet already drying and flaking to the roof as I flexed my fingers. Wiping my face on the dark sleeve, it didn’t make me feel any better.
Thompson watched as Alex came out first, peering around and I knew it was me she searched for, but I stepped from the
edge, leaving just the top of my head high enough so I could see.
“Don’t look up,” I murmured.
Then came Shadow with his nose high in the air, looking right at me, but he didn’t signal to the others.
Then Cassie. Had I seen right? Was she about to take on the creatures at the window? Was she like me?
In that moment I felt the fear for Logan as I had for Alex. A sorrow for what could have been. I knew of the heartbreak ahead. I could guess how Alex would feel if I never saw her again.
Logan came next, peering all around. Followed by the other three soldiers, one of them gripping his hand, the other two training their guns for cover.
I heard Thompson’s voice. “Where is she?” All that came in reply were the shake of their heads.
“The children,” Cassie said, seeming to realise what it meant if I was no longer going with the soldiers.
Shit. The children. A reminder to me, too.
Peering off into the distance, I looked over the tops of houses, of shops, across the horizon and between the columns of smoke catching in the wind and swaying with a beautiful rhythm.
“What happened back there?”
It was Logan’s voice. The soldiers who had formed a protective circle glanced inwards, waiting for the answer.
Only Alex seemed to ignore the question, her gaze still searching. Stepping forward, I crouched to the edge of the building.
“Where is she?” Thompson repeated, his voice growing more urgent as he drew away.
“What happened back there?” the soldier with the damaged hand said and the voices merged into one.
“She’s an animal.”
“She’s one of them. Isn’t she?”
“Were you briefed on this shit?” His was the loudest. Sherlock.
They were speaking the truth, but the words still hurt.
“Can it.” Thompson’s command stopped the complaints and Shadow’s bark pulled my look back to where they stood.
I expected him to be looking up, but he stared towards the van and I realised he saw the five new figures rushing towards them before they called with their chorus of screams reverberating every surface around us.
I couldn’t help my high voice adding to the call as the rage came back in an instant.
65
LOGAN
I paused, listening to the soldier’s words, of which Sherlock's were the loudest. They made so much sense, especially when we looked up to the scream and saw Jess crouched on the edge of the building with narrowed eyes and covered head to toe in someone else’s blood.
What else would anyone think after what we’d just witnessed? But she’d saved us, and not for the first time.
Alex’s anger cut through my inner voice. “Don’t fucking point those at her.”
“Shit. Where’s she fucking gone?” Thompson called out, dropping his gun and looking all around.
Turning away from the roof, I watched as Alex stepped in front of the remaining guns angled high, then one by one the soldiers moved, looking beyond the van and aiming their weapons though the interior to what I guessed was rushing towards us on the other side.
“Fall back. We need a gap, but hold your aim. We stop them here,” Thompson called, already taking steps out into the open and widening the space between him and the front of the van, then stopping and crouching to the floor to reset his aim. The other soldiers moved to follow whilst keeping their sights fixed at the van.
Cassie, with Shadow at her heel, had already moved away and didn’t stop as they walked along the road.
Jess had gone when I peered up and I couldn’t shake the feeling we wouldn’t see her again.
We had to go; the terrifying calls were so close. We had to at least get out from between the soldiers and those that would reach us at any minute.
As the screams called again, I gripped Alex by the shoulder and ran past the soldiers and into the open, despite knowing if they got through the soldiers there would be no hope.
I stopped at what sounded like a fierce battle cry from the other side of the van and another, but in a distinct tone as if in reply.
The chorus of shouts cut off in their prime, turning to calls of effort and bodies slumping to the ground.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, but as I spoke, I realised there could be only one answer as to what had miraculously saved us a second time from the attack.
Jess.
Together we waited for a sign as if we all knew the danger had passed. We waited for some indication of what had happened the other side of the minivan. It hadn’t come after a brief time and I went to pull Alex along when the door at the bottom of the building opened, each of our heads and the guns swinging its way.
Jess stood in the doorway, her hair matted to her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve but not able to clear the dripping red mess from her lips. She’d saved us, but could she stop herself from carrying on the frenzy?
Cassie hadn’t stopped, but the rest of us just stared back.
Alex was the first to move, stepping toward Jess, nodding and I didn’t need to see her face to know she wore a smile as she delved into her pockets as if searching for a handkerchief.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, guiding Jess back through the door.
“We have our orders,” Thompson said, staring hard to the soldiers. None of them spoke, their brows low as if contemplating the consequences of their next move. “Have you got a problem with that?” he asked, staring back at his men. When no one replied, he moved off.
I looked on as he followed in Cassie’s wake, the other soldiers stepping after, muttering under their breath.
No one talked as we slowly walked along the street which opened out from the alley, the road soon widening out to two lanes with the soldiers separating, each taking a flank with Thompson issuing commands to look out for suitable vehicles. The pace increased when Jess and Alex caught up at the back. Cassie stayed at the front with Shadow at her side as her lead opened up with every step.
I jogged to catch up.
“Are you okay?” I asked, the words sounding so lame, so weak, but it was all I thought to say. Was anyone okay in this mess?
Cassie nodded, and I tried to remember the last time we’d really spoken. I thought back to the village when some of my friends had still been alive and the morning when I’d woken to find everyone eating around the table. The calm before the storm. Then the night we’d laid in bed. The dream, but it wasn’t a dream. Despite everything, I’d slept so well with her near.
I’d known her for only a few days. We had a connection, but now I was so damn scared I’d lose her, but to what I wasn’t sure. Was it the bite or the cure that had made her this way? Or her worry for her sister and the rest of the children? Were they what had made her so focused? Or was her anger directed at me for delivering us, delivering them, to the doctor? Or was she turning, like Jess, into a version of those terrifying creatures?
And Jess. I’d had no time to process. I stopped, turning back, peering past the others. Thompson took the rear, a few steps behind Alex with Jess walking by her side. Her face at least resembled one of us, her jacket dark enough so the marks weren’t so obvious. If someone had come along now, they wouldn’t know what she’d done. Wouldn’t know she’d flicked a switch in our moment of need and turned into a wild beast to save us.
The other three soldiers spread out amongst us, occasionally turning in circles to search for danger or transport to take us to the doctor.
Then realisation came so strong it felt like a weight on my chest, my breathing growing shallow.
She was a test subject. She’d become what the doctors had wanted all along and now they were returning her home. Jess had said as much; they’d made her in the hope she would have the power of the creatures but could control the urges. Was Jess, and people like her, our hope for the future? Would they and their kind be the ones who could save the country?
We needed Jess to make it to whe
re they wanted her to go. The world needed her to get there, but did it mean Cassie would become the same and I would lose any hope of a life with her?
With Thompson in earshot, I spoke. “Where in the island are you taking her?”
He considered me for a moment as I started walking at his side, but kept silent.
“It’s a large island,” I added when he still hadn’t spoken.
A map sprung into my head in his silence; we had to travel from the crook where the peninsula of Devon and Cornwall met the rest of England, a hundred and fifty miles away from the small island off the coast of Southampton.
A few weeks ago, the distance would have been three hours in rush hour to get to Southampton at least. An hour on the ferry across the Solent. We knew the military were all over this and I feared the ferries wouldn’t be running and the Royal Navy would be in charge of a major quarantine operation. We didn’t even have a car and when we did, we couldn’t keep it on the road long enough to make much progress.
People had taken whatever transport they could to get away. We’d seen so few signs of any others making their escape. Apart from the Toyota garage and a few other lucky finds, anything left over had so far been junk and there were eight of us, including Shadow.
My thoughts paused at a low mechanical sound in the distance. Turning first to my left, I saw Gibson had also heard.
I followed his look back down the road, watching as Thompson huffed a command for each of us to stop at the sight of a tall dark car leaning heavy to the side and racing around a corner, heading towards us with its windscreen wipers rushing back and forth.
66
“Move,” came Thompson’s command and without question each of us separated, clearing the road to the left and right whist staring to the car over-correcting and lurching this way and that as it tried to straighten.