by RR Haywood
‘But you’re here and you’re soldiers.’
‘Okay, listen. We’re not soldiers…’
‘He looks like one,’ James points at Clarence, ‘and he does,’ he points at Dave then at Roy, ‘and they do,’ he nods over at the lads, ‘and that’s a military dog,’ he looks down at Meredith, ‘and everyone said you’re Mr Howie which means you’re like an officer and you’ve got an army truck and those guns are army guns and…’
‘We are from the army,’ Paula says quickly, ‘we just er….we say we’re not as people expect too much from us. We are…just a small unit and we’re strictly on observation only…’
‘Knew it,’ James says eagerly, ‘they’re from the army, Mr Wheeler.’
I wince inwardly at the lie knowing the consequences and false hope it could bring, but truth be told it was on the tip of my tongue just before Paula said it.
‘We’re here to tell you there is no vaccine and no formal help is coming,’ Paula says, ‘isn’t that right, Mr Howie.’
‘That’s right,’ I say seriously, ‘I’m sorry to say it chaps, but you’re on your own.’
‘What about our families? We’ve got ‘em all locked up in the units.’
‘Have you?’ I ask too lightly while Clarence coughs and turns away and Paula suddenly finds something on her fingernails to pick at.
‘Should we leave them there?’ James asks, ‘do we feed them? What about water?’
‘Feed them? No…no don’t feed them…’ I take a breath and exhale slowly, ‘there is no hope I’m afraid.’
‘Oh there will be,’ Mr Wheeler says as though giving me encouragement, ‘you must have seen some terrible things out there….but don’t lose hope, Mr Howie. The government are amazing people and they will get a vaccine. Are the other towns storing their infected families too?’
‘Not sure,’ I say with a shallow non-committal shrug, ‘er…to be honest er…most towns have er…killed them? Yes killed them…er…that’s the chosen thing and one that we er…advocate and suggest is the er…right course of action.’
‘Kill them?’ Mr Wheeler asks in horror, ‘but they’re no harm to anyone where they are. I mean only a bloody idiot would not see the signs we’ve put up. We can show you if you want.’
‘God no! I mean no, we’ve got a lot to do.’
‘It’s not far, James and I can take you down.’
‘Really, no need,’ I hold my hand out, ‘Sergeant Clarence, can we load everyone up please to er…get ready to move out.’
‘Sir,’ Clarence salutes and strides away, ‘you heard the officer, load up and get ready.’
‘So do we feed them? We did try but they don’t seem to want to eat anything,’ James says, ‘I even threw in a few live fish but they just flapped about.’
‘The fish or…’
‘Yeah the fish.’
‘Yeah don’t feed them…just er…best to just leave them.’
‘Of course,’ Mr Wheeler says, ‘didn’t you say you were looking for food? Do you want to take some of our supplies?’
‘No, we meant…I meant we are making a list of the food storage places. Er, Paula they can be put down on the list,’ I nod at Paula.
‘Sir,’ she nods.
‘Right,’ I say brightly, ‘we’d better get back on the road, got a lot to check and…yeah so…stay locked up and don’t let anyone in if you’re not sure about them. No lights at night, er…Fort Spitbank is down the coast and can offer you a safe…maybe a safe place to stay.’
‘We’d better call a meeting,’ Mr Wheeler says to James as I beat a hasty retreat from the entrance to the Saxon.
‘Keep us in mind when that vaccine comes,’ Mr Wheeler shouts, ‘even if it’s experimental. Anything that helps.’
‘Will do, er…over and out,’ I climb up into Saxon and start the engine.
‘Over and out?’ Clarence ask while offering a smart salute from his window.
‘Arse,’ I mutter and pull away with a calm sedate pace as we go back up the hill and away from the pier, ‘did you fucking hear what he said?’ I ask once we’re safely away.
‘I feel so bad,’ Paula calls out.
‘Was that their families in those units?’ Marcy says in a shout to be heard over the engine.
‘It was, they put them there for safekeeping,’ Clarence replies.
‘I was shooting them!’
‘We all were,’ Clarence says, ‘we didn’t know.’
‘They’re still infected and dangerous,’ I say as though to alleviate the guilt. They sink into animated chat while I focus on the road and the emotions of guilt from slaughtering some poor sod’s infected family and the growing unease of being so bloody hungry.
‘We should have eaten before we left,’ I say more to myself than anyone else.
‘We had to get out,’ Clarence says darkly and a feeling of being selfish sweeps through me that although I am hungry, the others must be too and Clarence is twice our size.
I put my foot down and feel the engine rise in pitch as we gain the exit road and barrel into the glorious rolling countryside.
Seven
As the understanding of the human physical form increases, so too does understanding that the human mind and brain are far more complex. Lani was taken then she was no longer part of the hive mind. That was days ago. She was one then lost. The infection saw Lani in the places where the losses were taken.
Lani came back. She did not turn or die to return in the true state of living but she was simply there. Her body was made weak by the injuries sustained but her body had also adapted and changed to the virus within. It was part of Lani now and that change to her DNA made her heal faster and increased her pain threshold. The cell structure was different. The way her body responded to trauma and injury was changed. Her blood clotted faster. Her natural health blended with the virus to keep Lani functioning far beyond the level she was before.
The injuries were dealt with. Clotted and sealed. The pain signals from the damaged nerve endings were muted and pain reducing endorphins were released.
Lani would have healed and continued to function perfectly but it was the mind that enabled the virus to take over.
Shock. A dangerous thing. On hearing the conversation between Marcy and Howie her heart rate increased at the same time as her blood sugar plummeted. Such an instant reaction and her body’s natural reaction was to fight the change but her shock continued as she grew to believe Howie loved Marcy. She fought for him. She risked her whole life for him. She adored, worshipped, idolised and above all else she loved him. For being the leader she loved him. For being the one who can fix this she loved him. For being the man he is she loved him and to have that love given to another was more than her mind could handle.
Fractured and broken she sunk down deeper into a world of pain and betrayal and as her weakened body tried to react to mend the damage so the virus outgrew the anti-body that kept it at bay. It wasn’t instant. Her body had learnt to fight the virus and work with it so when the virus increased it did so in order to repair and contain the damage done. The anti-bodies retaliated but they were stretched too far and over minutes of the night, and as her mind descended into the madness of lunacy so the virus was finally able to sweep through and take that which it had once dominated.
Lani became the true state of being and the infection saw through her eyes at the fort laid out with children kneeling in supplication. It waited. It knew what Lani knew, that Howie would come back.
The infection watched as Howie did return and it became aware that Howie could see through the host to the pure entity within. It lead Howie into the old armoury and away from Dave who it knew would slaughter Lani the host faster than Lani could react.
The infection felt as Lani the person reacted to the presence of Howie. It felt the love and it retreated enough to let that love show. Then it watched as Howie copulated with Lani. In control but allowing Lani enough of her natural reactions so Howie made love to the infection.
Then,
at the pinnacle moment of copulating the infection saw Howie’s pupils dilating and read his signs as his own body flooded with sleep inducing hormones. So it struck. This was the moment, timed to perfection with Howie embraced, alone and unable to defend himself. Away from the dog. Away from the giant. Away from the mocking young men and away from Dave.
A mistake. A belief that Howie alone with Lani would render him weak but he wasn’t and his reactions were far faster than even the infection thought possible. The pin was pulled. Howie ran out. Lani took cover. The blast swept through. The escape was possible and the infection sought to use that escape but the calculations were done. Lani sent back would be Lani killed for Howie and his team are too strong to be taken.
The mind is powerful and it was shock that brought Lani down. So the infection took the knife and opened her stomach then cut her wrists and as the blaze took the hair from her head so the infection left the message.
Plant a seed. Water it. Nurture the seed so it grows to take hold and spread roots. The seed is planted. It will take hold.
The infection knows Howie leads his team away from the fort. It knows they are moving. It saw through the hive mind of many eyes on the industrial estate.
Now it waits. Waiting. Watching. Expectant.
Eight
Day Six
‘Where? Show me.’
The boy touches the sides of his neck with his hands, ‘in the neck…’
‘Where in neck?’
‘Here,’ the boy points to the position of the artery, ‘and then here,’ he puts his right hand on the inside of his left wrist, ‘and here,’ he slouches to touch the tops of his legs where the thighs meet.
‘Good, you small…you no reach neck…you do this one,’ Gregori touches his own groin.
‘Okay,’ the boy nods seriously but doesn't take his eyes off the shiny blade of the knife held by Gregori, ‘can I have it now, please.’
Gregori holds the knife out blade first to the boy who goes to take it then stops and giggles, ‘wrong way, Gregoreeee.’
‘Good,’ Gregori says and flips the knife over to offer the handle to the boy instead of the blade.
‘Yay,’ the boy takes the knife and holds it the way Gregori showed him, with the blade out and his arm away from his body. He paces away to the horde shuffling slowly across the garden in front of the house. Three van loads taken today. Each load brought back and set free while they returned to the nearby towns and villages to get more. The infected stayed nearby, shuffling and groaning dully in the blazing sun.
Thirty of them now. Groaning and shuffling quietly with drool hanging from their mouths and every single one of them heading towards Gregori who skirts the group in an effort to keep them turning.
The boy gets to the closest one, aims and stabs into the big thigh muscles of the adult woman. He pulls the knife out, re-adjusts the aim and stabs again aiming for the groin. Blood seeps out but slowly and it clots quickly. The boy works hard, stabbing and hacking with grunts of exertion.
‘Up,’ Gregori calls out.
‘I’m trying,’ the boy shouts back and stabs harder up into the groin and yanks back hard as a gush of blood pours from the severed artery, ‘I did it…Gregoreee look, all her blood is coming out now…’
‘Which way she fall?’
‘Er…’ the boy steps back and ponders this weighty issue as the woman shuffles and starts to wobble as the blood drains from her body, ‘that way,’ the boy picks a side at random and watches as the woman falls the other way to slump on the ground.
‘Again,’ Gregori calls and moves round to keep the infected turning.
It takes time but the boy, given the fact that he wants to play and make jokes, learns fast and applies himself to the task at hand. With grim determination the boy moves from body to body. Stabbing into groins and legs as his aim slowly improves. The way he grips the knife, the force applied, the angle of attack and the thrust and slicing motion.
They bleed and get stuck with the blade again and again but not one flicker of reaction do they show the boy.
It’s hard work and the boy struggles to get the direction needed and knowing if to strike from the back or the front. A big male with huge thighs and no gap between them. The boy darts in and stops dead at the sight of the meaty muscles. He backs up and angles the attack then runs round the back of the male trying to find a way into the groin. At the front he stabs into the pelvis and tries to work the blade lower but the muscles and flesh are too dense to penetrate. His face flushes with temper that Gregori has already come to recognise as the pre-cursor to a tantrum and he waits expecting the boy to start kicking and hitting the male.
Instead the boy steps back and looks up at the male, ‘sit,’ he shouts like giving a command to a dog. Gregori tuts and shakes his head then stops as the male does as bid and slumps down onto his backside, ‘lie down,’ the boy gives the command, ‘open your legs.’ On his back the male spreads his legs and waits patiently as the boy gets between the thighs and finally gets access to the groin that he stabs down into, ‘got it!’ He turns grinning as the man bleeds out from the severed artery on the grass behind him.
The unease that Gregori felt before only increases, doubling, trebling, soaring with a creeping sensation that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The boy moves to the next one and carries on like nothing happened. Gregori’s heart races, his chest tightening and a sick feeling spreads through his stomach. He bites it down, forcing the emotions away as he watches mesmerised at the boy dominating the infected adults and now he’s learnt that trick he uses it again. Telling them to open their legs, stand still, bend over, bend down, lean forward, hold their arms out. They do it. He cuts throats and wrists and nods happily at the blood spraying into the air as Gregori turns and strides away with his own throat feeling like it’s closing up.
Nine
He is coming.
What the fuck does that mean? Who is coming? For about five seconds I ponder this weighty issue before my stomach gurgles and I go back to thinking about food. I’m craving junk. I want pizza. Kebab. Burgers. Ice cream. Roast dinners. Crumbs, I want everything. My entire focus is on filling the hole within my stomach.
Purposefully I drive deeper into the countryside and away from the immediate coast trying to find a rural town or village. Somewhere off the main road that will have resources. Resources? Sod that. I mean food. Lots of food. And a comfortable sofa so I can digest and maybe read an old newspaper or flick through a book. The image seems lovely. A big meal and then a quiet afternoon of relaxation. Maybe even heat some water and have a bubble bath. Suddenly my head extrapolates the image and includes Marcy in the bath with me.
I blink and shake the image away. I hate her. I hate what she was and the fact she’s still here instead of Lani. Christ, Lani only died a few hours ago and I’m thinking of Marcy being in a bath with me. Selfish. Disgusting. I am a hateful disgusting man. I am a very hungry hateful disgusting man.
I could kill her. Marcy I mean. Just shoot her in the head and be done with it. But I couldn’t kill Marcy any more than I could kill anyone else in the team.
I am so hungry.
Hungry.
Hungry.
‘Town.’
Hungry.
‘Eh?’
‘Town, boss…’
‘At last,’ I blink again and focus on the job in hand. Perfect. A village in the middle of nowhere.
Houses that look a bit more intact and less damaged. Bodies here and there, old and decomposing. Storm damage. A few cars left at rakish angles but really far less than most place we’ve seen.
An old fashioned petrol station comes into view. One of the really old ones outside a repair garage and without the enormous flat roof overhead or the stale sandwich selling shop nearby. I glance down at the fuel gauge. Just below half.
‘Fuel,’ I pull in and bring the Saxon to a gradual halt beside the pump. Houses on the other side of the street and the village centre just a stone t
hrow up the road. ‘Nick, work your magic mate.’
‘Will do.’
Disembarking we stretch and feel the heat of the sun beaming down.
‘It’s quiet,’ Paula says from a few feet away.
‘I know right,’ I smile at her, ‘perfect for a day off.’
‘Our day off has been pretty shit so far,’ she says with a slow grin, ‘you feeling okay?’
‘Yeah fine, you?’
‘Hungry and getting grouchy,’ she says with a pointed look that I choose to ignore and instead follow Nick as he waits for Clarence to break into the garage with much huffing, grunting and cursing.
‘Boss.’
I turn to see Mo Mo standing next to a flatbed recovery truck, ‘this is diesel,’ he says and draws a knife which he skilfully wedges into the gap of the fuel cap and with a ping it pops open.
‘You done that a few times then,’ I laugh as he gets to work on the locking fuel cap.
‘Few times,’ he says, ‘done it,’ he stands back with the screw fuel cap in hand.
‘Fuck me, mate,’ I can’t help but grin, ‘good skills.’
‘Did you just get that off?’ Clarence strides over to stare first at the fuel cap then the flatbed.
‘Yeah.’
‘Well done, Mo Mo,’ a huge hand almost crushes the youth to the ground.
‘Pipe,’ Nick gets to work slicing a length of hosepipe left at the side of the garage, ‘we’ll need a bottle or something.’
‘Why?’ I ask while watching him scout round.
‘The Saxon is higher than the flatbed,’ he says while toeing an old rusty metal tray, ‘the fuel won’t flow up.’
‘So we siphon it down into something then pour it into the Saxon?’
‘Yes, boss,’ he says.
A metal bucket with a pouring spout is found at the back and is quickly put to use as Mo Mo sucks the pipe to force the fuel to flow out then spits the diesel from his mouth and shoves the end into the bucket.
‘Cheeky fuckers,’ Nick laughs, ‘you see that?’ He asks Mo Mo.