Hikers - The Collection (Complete Box Set of 5 Books)

by Lauren Algeo

  I heard Georgie scream and I knew he was in her mind but I couldn’t hear it over the weather. She was trying to crawl away from him and he took control of her body so she fell face first into the snow. I was getting closer but I stupidly slipped on some ice and landed heavily on one knee. I knew she was in serious trouble when she began to shovel snow into her mouth with both hands.

  I don’t think the boy even cared that I was heading straight for them. He was gleefully watching Georgie cough and splutter as she choked down the snow. I did the only thing I could think of – I lunged at the boy and drove my knife straight into his chest. His tiny child’s chest. The sight was horrendous, far worse than the adults I’ve stabbed previously. My mind couldn’t fathom the fact that I’d stabbed a child, even a hiker child. It looked so wrong in his small body.

  The boy wailed in surprise and crumpled to the floor. The white snow around him turned a dark red as it eagerly absorbed his blood. I helped Georgie up as quickly as I could, knowing we didn’t have much time before the boy recovered from his wound. She was clearly in shock and lurched to the side, still gagging and spitting snow. I lifted her up and began to carry her towards the hospital. It would be safe there, and people could help her.

  She wheezed at me that she hadn’t sensed the child like she normally did then she passed out. Her head rocked back and she went limp in my arms. The panic took over me then and I was petrified that she would stop breathing. That something was lodged in her throat and I would feel the life fading from her body. I kept staring at her face to see the faint fog of breath leave her mouth. My own was panting out in a white cloud.

  I hurried down the road to the hospital, trying not to let her dead weight slow me down. My arms were aching with the effort and I kept stumbling in the snow yet somehow we made it. I glanced fearfully over my shoulder every few steps but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

  We were approaching the entrance to A&E when Georgie began to stir. She gave a faint groan then her eyelids fluttered open. I waited until she was fully with it to put her down although I kept a firm grip on her arm.

  In that moment I realised just how attached to her I’ve gotten. The overwhelming fear I’d felt when she’d been in danger is something that surely only a father can feel. I could scarcely breathe when I saw she was in pain. The thought of hikers harming her makes me so angry. I need to do more to protect her.

  I think Karen would have liked Georgie. She’s smart and strong; she just needs a bit of parental guidance. Is it strange that I think of her as my surrogate daughter? That I feel a responsibility to care for her and teach her in life? Can you grow so fond of a kid after only a few months? I suppose I’m like an adoptive parent; they always consider the child to be their own, and treat them as such.

  I’d been alone for so long I’d forgotten what it was like to be able to talk through things with someone. And Georgie knows exactly what I’ve been through – she’s felt a hiker in her mind first hand. She’s told me that she’s just as determined to kill them as I am. They almost took her life but she’s more concerned that they’re hurting other people. She said she wanted to do something with her life that would make her dad proud and that brought a lump to my throat. After all the shit she’s been through, and the nasty people she’s encountered, she still wants to help.

  Lesser people would be bitter and angry if they’d lived through what she has, but not Georgie. She’s come to terms with her past and decided that she wants a future. I admire her for that. Of course I’d rather it was a future where she went back into education then settled down with a career and husband and kids, but she waved away any suggestion of that. She just wants to rid the world of hikers. I think it’s so she’ll feel proud of herself, as well as doing it for her dad’s memory. That it will make her life feel worthwhile. Who am I to stand in the way of that?

  Anyway, I got her into the hospital waiting room and went to get us hot drinks. It was busy, with plenty of snow related injuries, so we blended in. Georgie was trembling violently and her face was still deathly pale. She couldn’t grasp how strong the child hiker had been. I finally told her all about my encounter with the little girl hiker on the cliff tops. It was difficult at first, I’ve barely allowed myself to think of it, let alone speak it out loud, but Georgie listened quietly and the words began to flow.

  She still haunts me in my dreams sometimes and I’ve avoided any coastal towns ever since. Funny how someone so small can have such a huge impact on your life. She’d be older now but I’m guessing no less powerful or creepy. Georgie thinks the kids are the scariest and I’m inclined to agree. I haven’t seen the Grand himself yet but I can’t imagine he looks as freaky as the ghostly children in their Victorian-style outfits.

  We stayed at the hospital for a while, until Georgie began to calm down and some colour returned to her cheeks. We spoke about her theories on hikers. She thinks I shouldn’t keep trying to fit them to an existing being because they are their own breed – a unique race that aren’t like anything else. They’re just hikers. Therefore we shouldn’t keep trying methods that work on other things, we should try to find something new. She likened it to the machines in War of the Worlds being brought down by a common cold, and I have to admit it’s a decent observation. Their immune systems are clearly different to ours so who’s to say something simple couldn’t wipe them out? They could have allergies to things for all we know.

  We had to leave the hospital when one of the nurses started looking at us questioningly. We slipped out after some commotion with the parents of a little girl who they suspected had meningitis. It took ages to get back to the station through the snow and we stuck to the main roads this time.

  Georgie kept gripping onto my coat sleeve as we walked and I knew she was petrified that the boy was still out there somewhere. For some reason she hadn’t been able to sense him and that added to her fear. She kept looking around and I knew she was expecting him to come running out of the blinding blizzard.

  When we eventually made it to the warm station we were greeted by crowds of people. There were no trains going to London, and there haven’t been any since. I suggested going to find a hotel for the night but Georgie wouldn’t have it. She wants to stay in the station, ready for when the first train does start running.

  We’ve been sitting on some metal chairs, watching the concourse empty as people find alternative routes or places to stay. There are still quite a few in here though, stranded like us, so I doubt they can close the station. We’ve had some McDonalds for dinner and I guess we’ll have to try and get some sleep on the hard chairs.

  Georgie is restless and keeps pacing around, keeping a close eye on the entrance in case the boy materialises. I’ve been mulling over what she said at the hospital. It’s a daunting task of beginning from scratch again, trying anything and everything – I don’t even know where to start. At least it’s an approach, I guess.

  There’s a niggle of an idea in my mind that’s just out of reach. A feeling like I’ve forgotten something but I can’t recall what. Perhaps I’m just overtired and it’ll come to me after some sleep.

  30th November 2011

  I’ve remembered it now. It was Georgie’s suggestion of a cold, coupled with the sounds of the hospital that had sparked something. We know that hikers can heal their physical injuries but can they cure diseases? Fight cancer? Is there a way to bring them down from the inside, rather than external wounds?

  They’ve never had jabs or inoculations, or been exposed to any serious illnesses so they must not be immune to things. They don’t spend much time up close and personal with people but there must be something they can catch, or that we can give them.

  There’s a bubble of excitement in my stomach and I know I’m not going to sleep now, despite my heavy eyelids. We’re back in the flat and it’s nearly lunchtime. Georgie is fast asleep in the bedroom, attempting to recover from yesterday’s ordeal. I was stretched out on the sofa until my drifting mind latched onto what I’d be
en so desperately trying to recall.

  Neither of us got much rest in the station last night. I did doze off once but Georgie jolted me awake, thinking she’d heard the boy in the form of a small sigh in the back of her mind. I listened hard and couldn’t pick up anything but that didn’t reassure her. She was adamant that he was out there, searching for her. I was relieved when we finally got on a train this morning so Georgie could relax. Sitting close to somebody so wound up was exhausting for me too, I couldn’t help empathising with her tension.

  I’m going to make myself useful now and start researching illnesses and diseases, preferably contagious ones. I’ve got a few science and anatomy books that could come in handy, and of course, good old Google.

  We think we’ve got something that may work. I’ve spent most of the afternoon looking into methods and Georgie joined me after a couple of hours. We’ve come up with a list of possible things to try, including swine flu, MRSA, rabies, polio and poison, but it’s something else that we’ve settled on first ­– meningitis.

  It was what the hysterical mother in the hospital yesterday thought her daughter had, and I did some digging online. Viral meningitis can affect brain function with increased swelling. Brain function. A hiker would be powerless if its brain was impaired. Surely they couldn’t get into people’s minds then? Left untreated, it takes a few days to kill a normal person once they’re infected but that could be accelerated in a hiker.

  That bubble of excitement that I mentioned earlier has erupted now. Every nerve in my body is tingling. It feels as though we’re really onto something here, that we might actually have a way to kill them. The only problem is how to infect a hiker with it.

  Meningitis isn’t exactly common these days. We think we’ve come up with a solution, albeit a very risky one. I suggested it actually, and Georgie is still sceptical, but I think it’s the best idea we’ve got. It involves going into a hospital, most likely a children’s ward, and taking the blood of someone with meningitis. Ok, hear me out… it’s not as bad as it sounds. A child is most likely to get meningitis so that’s why we’d need to go to the children’s ward, and we won’t be doing any harm really, just taking a little blood sample.

  I believe in the right outfit Georgie can pass for a student nurse. I would be way too noticeable on a ward like that with my gangly frame, and people are more suspicious of men. If we can get a nurse’s uniform from somewhere then Georgie could slip right in, unchallenged. They’re more likely to dismiss her presence.

  She didn’t like it when I brought it up to her but she’s had some experience with needles too, back when that Spence guy was trying to get her hooked on drugs. She’ll be more competent if we take blood from the child with a syringe. If we practise a few times she should be fine.

  The plan is to then find a hiker and inject it with the meningitis blood. Georgie has one condition for agreeing to my ludicrous plan: she wants to use the blood on our hiker, the male who changed both of our lives forever. I’ve said yes although I’m not holding out any hope of finding that particular one. He could be anywhere by now. I’ll be happy to take any hiker we can find; I just want to see if it works.

  I’m trying not to get too excited but I can’t help it. I’m normally so cautious and careful yet the feeling of anticipation is making me reckless. I want to do this right now but obviously we can’t. We need to get prepared. For the first time Georgie is being the sensible one. She wants to get a uniform and spend some time in a hospital to get comfortable with the environment.

  It will probably be a couple of weeks until we’re ready to act on the plan and we’ll need to be prepared to move quickly when we manage to locate a child with meningitis. It’s all still up in the air as to how we do that but I can’t wait to get started. I’ve got a good feeling about this.

  19th December 2011

  It’s been nearly three weeks since we began our preparations and I think we’re ready, finally!

  We staked out Kings College hospital for a couple of weeks, watching the staff. Georgie went in a few days in a row so she could familiarise herself with nurse behaviour. I was right to choose her to do this – no one batted an eyelid at her presence. She said she walked around the main hospital wards unnoticed.

  We’d been watching a couple of the young, female nurses who travelled home from work by bus. It sounds creepy but our surveillance paid off when one put her bag on the seat at the bus stop then wandered around texting on her phone. Georgie quickly grabbed the bag and legged it before the girl realised what had happened.

  I wouldn’t normally condone stealing, I’ve seen enough victims of it from my time in the force and it causes unnecessary trauma, but that bag held everything we needed. There was a uniform and ID badge inside. The shirt is light blue, from a surgical ward, and we’re hoping just having it will be enough. The trousers are enormous on Georgie’s small frame so we’ve had to buy her a new pair of smart, black ones.

  With her hair tied in a bun, the uniform, and black pumps on she could easily pass for a student nurse. The main selling point is the ID pass around her neck. If no one gets too close it could pass for her own, although Tina Croft the nurse is fuller in the face than Georgie. At least they look about the same age though.

  I was a little worried about Georgie’s tattoo but she laughed off my concern, telling me that this is the 21st century and everyone has a tattoo these days, which made me feel old. It’s a small, scriptive ‘G’ on the inside of her left wrist and I suppose it’s not really that noticeable.

  I catch her looking at it sometimes or subconsciously stroking it. She told me she had it done a couple of years ago in honour of her dad, who was called Gary. That she wanted it as a reminder of him to ensure she would do something in her life to make him proud. Kind of like her lifeline through all the shit she had to put up with during her prostitution days. I’m sure he would be proud that she’s trying to turn her life around now.

  As a precaution, I’ve got her to read up on meningitis in case anyone questions her on the ward, and she’s spent three days cramming basic nurse skills, such as taking temperatures and blood. It’s a good job we did take the time to prepare – I had to track down a heparinised syringe for us to use, as apparently the blood would clot in a normal syringe and we wouldn’t have been able to inject the hiker with it. I got a small, black box to contain it in as well. When Georgie hides it under her shirt it just looks like a pager in her waistband.

  Now comes the hard part – we have to locate a child who’s been admitted to hospital with meningitis. I’ve made a detailed list of dozens of hospitals in and around London for us to try. We’ve agreed to take it in turns to phone up and pretend to be a concerned relative. We did a practise this morning and Georgie’s panicked routine is pretty convincing, I bet she could persuade a receptionist to give out some patient information with her acting ability.

  We’ve packed overnight bags so we’re ready to go the moment we find the child. I’ve agreed with Georgie that after we get the blood she has one day to find our hiker. If we can’t locate him then we will use it on any one we find. Then we can see if this actually works. We’re going to start ringing the hospitals in a minute. I feel pretty nervous right now. Wish us luck.

  We’ve got one! It took eighteen frustrating calls to other hospitals before the nineteenth proved lucky. We’ll be taking a trip to Darent Valley hospital, out near Dartford.

  Georgie had been getting snappy with all the unsuccessful attempts but she was the one who found the child. She told the receptionist that her little sister had been rushed to hospital with suspected meningitis only she didn’t know which one. Her breathless, worried voice was spot on and the nurse revealed that they’d had a boy admitted with meningitis but not her sister.

  As I listened to her call, I could feel my excitement growing. This was it. When she hung up and confirmed it, I wanted to burst. I don’t remember the last time I smiled like that. We’re heading there right now!

  20th Dec
ember 2011

  Georgie did it! I knew she could. We’ve got a syringe filled with infected blood. She went to the children’s ward while I waited outside the hospital with the bags. Going in, she looked more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. Her face was pale and I could see her body trembling. She went through with it though.

  She told me that it felt awful to be trespassing on a ward full of sick kids and I felt guilty about making her do it but she’d been our best hope. She said the boy was in a side room and she’d snuck in to take his blood. She was interrupted by a senior nurse halfway through and had to cover up her presence there. Somehow she managed it while ‘shitting herself’ as she so eloquently put it. I can’t imagine how scared she would have been about getting caught; I’d have been a wreck.

  The wait outside was agonising enough. When I saw her walking towards me from the entrance – well, running actually – I wasn’t sure if she’d actually succeeded. Not until a wide grin spread across her face and I saw that she was laughing. I gave her a tight hug then took the container from her carefully. It’s been tucked in my inside coat pocket ever since.

  It’s the early hours of the morning and we still haven’t found the hiker. We travelled to Clapham last night to begin our search. It made sense to start there, as it’s where we both encountered him, but there was no hint. We’ve been trawling the area for hours and there’s nothing. Georgie is still determined that we use it on this one so we’ll brave the cold for a few more hours. If we haven’t found it by dawn, I’ll have to break it to her that we need to locate a different one.

  So much has happened today, I don’t even know where to begin. We have successfully injected a hiker with the meningitis blood… not only that, it is our hiker. We found him at about 6am this morning, to Georgie’s relief. He had an unsuspecting man under his spell and was camped out by the potential vessel’s house. He was sitting in a dark car that was parked outside.