by Lauren Algeo
We waited patiently and watched for an opportunity. Neither of us had any sleep overnight but there was no mention of rest. We took the first chance that presented itself when the hiker got out of the car and disappeared into the vessel’s back garden. I led Georgie back there slowly, with a strict warning that she should run away and head back to the flat if anything went wrong.
The hiker was fiddling with the lock on the shed door then he went inside. My mind was racing as I assessed the situation and years of training came flooding back to me. Where was the hiker vulnerable? How could I distract him if Georgie was put in danger? Could anyone see us back there? I gradually eased the container from my pocket and got the syringe out. It felt comforting to have it in my hands.
Seeing our hiker filled me with an intense rage that made me sick to my stomach. He’d caused us both so much pain. This was our chance for payback. He looked the same from the notes I’ve made (as I can’t remember him clearly): the same dark hair and pale skin. His shirt was a brilliant white in the daylight.
I instructed Georgie to stay by the shed door then I crept towards it. She was to lock it as soon as I came out. Her eyes were so wide with fear but she knew how to block her mind, in case something went wrong and it did get in. I could feel every pump of my heart as I snuck through that door and my hands were clammy around the raised syringe. I knew I had to act fast while we had the element of surprise.
I emptied my mind and stepped forward silently. The hiker’s back was towards me and without hesitating, I plunged the needle into the skin at the base of his neck and injected the full contents. He jerked back wildly but I was bolting backwards out of the shed before he could even turn around. I felt him try to pry into my mind as I stumbled outside only his confusion had weakened him. We locked eyes for one brief moment before Georgie slammed the door between us and bolted it.
We were moving instantly, sprinting from the sound of the hiker smashing against the door. As we neared the pavement, we heard a crash of glass. We hid at the end of the road and watched from safety as he emerged from the garden. He checked around but we were well out of his view. He had no idea what we’d just inflicted on him or who we were. After a little while, he got back in his car to resume his whispering to the vessel.
We watched for a bit then found an empty house nearby. It’s up for sale and completely unfurnished so we won’t be disturbed overnight. It’s freezing in here but at least we can get some rest in relative shelter. I don’t know how long it will take for the hiker to start showing symptoms but I’m adamant he will. The virus has been sealed inside his body and he won’t have been immunised against it. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a big day.
21st December 2011
I can’t believe I’m writing this but it’s working. The hiker is deteriorating rapidly as the meningitis takes hold. We’ve moved him to a warehouse, which was no easy feat.
When we went back to the vessel’s house this morning the hiker was slumped in his car outside. He was still trying to whisper to the vessel, yet his voice was weaker and the words were muddled. I wanted to observe from a safe distance for a bit longer but Georgie wasn’t keen. She sulked off to get some food and I carried on watching. The hiker didn’t move and the whispering stopped.
When Georgie came back and nothing else had happened, I finally relented and said we could approach it. She always mocks my over-cautiousness, and I know I’ve been a little more reckless lately with getting hold of the virus, but it pays to play things safe. You never know what could happen around hikers.
The hiker was inside a black, 5-door Fiat of some kind and I wondered where he’d gotten it. If he’d persuaded some random person to ‘lend’ it to him. The road was clear and we walked slowly around the car. The hiker was staring right at us although there was no attempt to get inside our minds. He was still alive but he was weakening.
I opened the car door carefully to take a closer look. His breathing was laboured and I could feel the fever radiating out of him. He snarled and flinched when I touched his arm but didn’t attack. He should have recognised both of us from his failed attempts to kill us only he was too out of it to get into our heads. He wasn’t a threat.
We knew we had to drive him somewhere secluded to see how this played out, so despite Georgie’s protests, she helped me move him into the passenger seat so I could drive the car. We quickly located some warehouses online that were in nearby Richmond and would be suitable to hide him in. We found an empty one near the back of the industrial park that was perfect: secluded and quiet.
I have to admit, it was a relief to put the hiker in the warehouse. Sitting so close to him in the confined car was unnerving. Every instinct was screaming at me to get out of there. Georgie had her knife trained on him the entire time I drove and he barely moved but it still felt too dangerous.
The effects were more pronounced when we dragged him into the daylight from the dimmer car. He howled in agony at the brightness and we struggled to get him moving to the warehouse door. Once inside, he laid whimpering on the floor and clutched his head. There’s a red rash that’s been developing on his skin over the last few hours. It’s crept up his neck and out from the sleeves of his shirt. The meningitis is taking a strong hold on his body.
We’ve been watching and waiting all day, trying not to get our hopes up too much. I can’t help but feel excited though. I’m trying to keep it hidden from Georgie so she doesn’t see quite how much I’m praying for this to work. The disappointment would be unbearable if it fails.
She’s intrigued at seeing the hiker this close. She remarked earlier how normal he looks and I’m keen to remind her that he isn’t. Watching a human-looking being in pain is hard going and I don’t want her to lose sight of what he is. I feel no compassion for the monster that tried to kill us, in spite of his normal features.
It’s starting to get dark outside however I’m reluctant to turn on any lights in here in case we draw unwanted attention to the place. We’re going to take it in turns to sleep while the other keeps an eye on the hiker. I guess we’ll have to use the torch sporadically to check on it. I’m going to take the first watch.
22nd December 2011
Sleep did not come easily last night, and not solely because of the hard concrete I was lying on. The hiker’s constant whimpering and laboured breathing echoed around the room and I was worried about missing something if I slept.
When I did eventually drift off, I dreamt that a slobbering beast was chasing me. I could feel its hot, rancid breath on my neck. I woke up in a cold sweat and realised that the sound was still there – it was the hiker’s slobbery breathing.
He tried to crawl away once but didn’t get far. The fever is making him delirious and weak. This morning he looks even worse. His skin is grey and clammy with sweat, and his breathing is getting slower.
We’ve had a small, unhealthy breakfast of the crisps and chocolate Georgie bought yesterday at the shops during her strop. Not exactly substantial but I’m reluctant to leave the hiker to find anything else. I’ve done a sweep of the warehouse and there’s nothing going on out the front although I’d still rather stay hidden until this is over. We’ve got enough water so we’ll just have to go hungry for a while. My stomach’s too unsettled for much food anyway; it keeps doing little flips. This waiting is torture.
The hiker just had a seizure! I’d been pacing by the windows when I heard Georgie shout. His body was bucking against the hard floor and she was sitting on the ground nearby. She asked what to do but there was nothing we could do really. We just watched until his body went still, albeit for a slight twitch of a limb every now and then.
I got the torch out to examine him and he’s deteriorated rapidly since this morning. It’s about 5pm now and I don’t think he has long left. I lifted his eyelids and his black eyes are rolled back in his head. He bit his tongue during the seizure so there’s a trickle of blood from his mouth and his breathing is dramatically shallower.
I would
say he’s either in a coma or deeply unconscious. Not to get your hopes up too much but with meningitis, after the coma comes organ failure then… death.
He’s dead! The hiker is actually dead. I can’t believe it. He is no longer breathing and his heart is no longer beating. I’ve double and triple checked it. His body is cold and stiff; there’s no recovering from this.
I was in disbelief for the first few moments then I felt my eyes fill with unexpected tears due to the enormity of it. After all this time, finally something that works. I managed to choke out to Georgie that he was dead and she immediately began to sob with relief.
I’m not sure it’s fully sunk in yet. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or shout or scream. I want to run around in celebration but at the same time I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years. This has been the most testing journey but we’ve at last got our revenge on that murdering bastard, and we’ve got a method that is successful. We can kill them. We did it!
25th December 2011
This Christmas couldn’t be more different to last year. I was almost at breaking point back then but now I feel alive again. The spark to fight has been reignited and we’re ready for war.
Georgie and I have spent the last couple of days hashing out our next move. My initial excitement at the meningitis working soon gave way to concern. Getting hold of the virus is no easy feat so it’s not like we can get a batch of infected blood to hunt hikers with. Locating more children and attempting to take their blood would be extremely slow and risky. That means we need something else to try – a similar virus that is easier to get hold of.
I haven’t voiced it to Georgie but I have a feeling of dread too. The Grand will know that one of his children has been murdered. The hikers will be on edge and extra vigilant while on jobs. We should really have hidden the body so the Grand couldn’t collect it and find out how he had died, unfortunately we weren’t thinking at the time. We just left it in the warehouse and ditched the car a few miles away.
We’ve researched viruses over the last two days and have settled on rabies as the next one to try. It can affect the nervous system and brain, and cause some of the same damage as meningitis. One difference is that we’ll need a saliva or tissue sample to infect the hiker with, instead of blood. It could be quicker than meningitis though. It’s still quite rare but a bit easier to get hold of, with batches of vaccines at vet surgeries and potentially an infected animal. We’re going to head to some quarantine kennels out in Essex the day after Boxing day to see if there are any there.
We’ve come up with a genius way of infecting a hiker with the sample too. I saw a tranquiliser gun on a dangerous animals website and we’ve ordered an X-Caliber model from America. You can pre-load the darts and shoot from a safe distance so we wouldn’t have to get close to the hiker this time. It’s going to take a week to arrive so that gives us time to get hold of the rabies samples.
I’m not a very good shot but Georgie thinks she is, based on an archery lesson. I’ve relented and said we can practice before and see if she is accurate. We’ve got a large black case ordered as well to disguise the gun as a musical instrument.
While we were online yesterday, Georgie saw another message from that boy in America I mentioned, Striker25. He’s been doing his own research and obviously isn’t getting far with his inability to hear them. She wants to tell him about our success with the meningitis but I think we should wait until we’ve tried out this new plan.
To tell you the truth, before Georgie suggested rabies I’d been contemplating a rather different idea. It’s something I’ve been mulling over for a couple of days but Georgie would be furious if she found out it had even crossed my mind. I was wary about writing it down in here in case she somehow reads it but she respects my privacy and doesn’t pay any attention to this journal.
Remember I told you that hikers die if they are trapped in your mind at the moment of death? I know I dismissed that as an option, due to the obvious limit in the number of hikers you could kill, but I’ve been thinking about the Grand a lot lately and how he can connect to the minds of all the other hikers. How they are his children. Well, what if I was to commit suicide with the Grand trapped inside my mind. Would that mean the others would die with him as their minds are all linked together? Of course this is an extremely flawed plan as I don’t know where the Grand is, and I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to keep him trapped inside until the point of death. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.
Sorry, this is more depressing than you expected on Christmas day. It doesn’t feel like that to me though. Considering the end of my life doesn’t sadden me as much as it should. Pre-Karen’s brain tumour, I had a good life. It wasn’t perfect but I was happy. Since the day she died I haven’t felt at peace. A part of me died with her and this new existence is not one that I wish to live until the natural end of my days. If I can save thousands of lives at the cost of my own then that is a price I’m willing to pay.
It’s Georgie who’s stopping me. She’s already told me that she has no one else in the world so losing me too would be a crushing blow for her. Would she slip back into a life of prostitution? I guess I could set her up for the future so she would never have to. I can update my will to leave her the flat and the remainder of my savings.
She’s a young girl and she shouldn’t be hunting hikers. She should go back and finish school, go on to have a family and career. I could do that for her, if she is strong enough to pick herself up after the hikers are gone. I just don’t know if she is right now. If she got one hint that this is what I’ve been considering then she would do her best to talk me out of it.
She gave me something today that cements my feeling that she’s not ready to be on her own again yet. It was sweet really, and unexpected. I secretly bought her a couple of little presents last week, just so she had something to open on Christmas morning. God knows how she spent last year – I haven’t wanted to ask. I got her a top that I’d seen her eye up in a shop window, a pair of new gloves, some chocolates and a few toiletries, nothing major. Her face lit up with excitement when she came into the living room this morning and saw them wrapped up on the coffee table.
I made bagels with smoked salmon and cream cheese too so it was more special than our usual breakfast of toast and cereal. We didn’t get a tree but I hung a couple of strips of cheap fairy lights around the room so it felt a little festive. Georgie was delighted with her presents and it made me feel content to see her so happy. I was glad I’d decided to get them for her.
She went quiet then and I saw her look nervous, a rare emotion for her. She’s usually so poker-faced. She disappeared into the bedroom briefly and returned with a plastic bag. She told me that she hadn’t had time to wrap it and thrust the bag awkwardly into my hands. She was actually blushing as I opened the bag. Inside was a small, silver hip flask and a mini bottle of Jack Daniels. I turned the hip flask over in my hand and saw that she’d had it engraved: ‘Scott. Thank you for everything. You saved me. G x’
It was those words that brought a sudden lump to my throat: you saved me. I told her I loved it and the tension in her face evaporated. She gave me a tight hug and whispered that she meant what she’d said. She’s right; I did save her – from death in front of that train, and from a life of prostitution with Spence. I’m responsible for her now and I couldn’t bear to cause her more pain after everything she’s already been through. That’s why I’m going to push aside thoughts of the Grand and suicide, and give her rabies plan a go instead.
Not today though. This afternoon we are switching off from all things hiker related and actually having a Christmas dinner. The turkey has been roasting since this morning and the flat smells delicious. I’m doing roast potatoes, stuffing and vegetables too. Georgie deserves a taste of normality for once. I’ve even got Christmas crackers and fully intend on wearing my paper hat during dinner.
We’ve got a few festive films lined up for afterwards (one called Elf that I�
�ll apparently love), with Christmas pudding and chocolates. It should be a good afternoon and exactly what we both need: a chance to unwind and celebrate our success with the meningitis blood.
I better go before I burn anything and mess up our dinner. Merry Christmas.
27th December 2011
We’ve got the rabies sample to try on the next hiker. We travelled to Essex this morning to the quarantine kennels. I decided to take on the responsibility this time, as Georgie did the hospital trip and I dressed in one of my old work suits to look more presentable. It felt strange to be wearing it and Georgie kept giving me funny looks as she’s only seen me in jeans and jumpers.
She waited down the road from the kennels for me. I introduced myself as Detective Inspector Brewer to the receptionist and immediately knew it was the right move. Despite me having no ID, she fell over herself to help me, which made me think she’d been in trouble with the police before. She fetched me an eager young graduate to show me around the facility. My cover story proved good enough – I said I was moving into dog handling and wanted to know about their behaviour, and any diseases that could affect them. The boy didn’t stop talking and I eventually steered him onto the topic of rabies.
The fates had aligned for us again and there was a dog with rabies in the facility. It was a large chocolate Labrador and the poor thing looked in pain. His owners had brought him back from South America and tests showed he’d contracted rabies while he was there. He was too far-gone for treatment so he was going to have to be put down.