The Infected Chronicles (Book 1): Origin

by Fessey, Andie

  Approaching the entrance to their barn, they heard Storm squealing.

  Entering the barn, they were not unduly concerned as this was one of his quirks, hating to be left in the barn by himself. They attempted all manner of techniques to try and get him free from this habit, but all to no avail.

  It was one of the only times Jake put his foot down regarding their horses.

  “He will have to get used to it,” he said at the time, “if there is just one of us at the yard, then we are not turning them out at the same time. Milly would have a fit if she saw us doing that.”

  Agreeing, Abigail also knew his other unspoken reason, being his constant worry when she was working with Raven. He would be worried even more out of his wits, if he found out his wife led them out at the same time…again.

  Taking only a couple of minutes to place Storm’s head collar on before rugging him up, she led him from the barn.

  Making a couple of journeys to their tack room at the rear of the barn, Jake fetched their saddles, bridles, rugs and the improvised tool boxes containing items she used for caring for their two horses, one being utilised for holding ointments and medication, another for grooming products.

  Several boxes in all, held what she jokingly called as her, ‘tools of the trade’.

  Approaching the horse box, Abigail leading Storm, Jake pushing another wheel barrow, this one laden with the boxes and tack, Nate appeared from the far side of the gleaming cab.

  “We are in luck,” he said smiling and brandishing a set of keys in his hand.

  “Where were they? His Father asked, his voice full of concern.

  “You didn’t go in the other barn, did you?”

  “No, of course not,” Nate replied, running to his Father, taking the handles of the wheel barrow, “watch your back Dad, please.”

  Smiling at his son, he handed control of the wheel barrow to him, taking the keys from his hand.

  “They were hanging out of the lock of the driver’s door,” Nate said, as they neared the cab.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously Dad. Struck lucky finding this metal and we didn’t even need your metal detector,” he said, grinning.

  Stepping up and reaching to the handle, Jake found the cab door unlocked.

  Was Rosalind disturbed opening it or had she left the keys there, when she went to fetch her horses?

  Knowing he would never know the answer, he opened the door, climbing into the spacious cab.

  “Holy fuck,” he said, sitting in the driver’s seat and looking around.

  Placing and turning the key in the ignition, he activated the dashboard.

  Two large screens sat the centre of the huge dashboard.

  Pressing the button to activate the upper, larger of the two, he was instantly presented with a split-screen image showing the views of various internal cameras.

  Each camera displayed a different view of the interior of the rear of the vehicle, housing several horse stalls.

  “Oh wow,” Nate exclaimed, settling into the adjacent seat and looking around the spacious interior.

  His father pressed several of the touch-screen buttons on the monitor, attempting to change the view.

  “You don’t do it that way Dad, use the paddle underneath.”

  Placing his hand around the paddle, Jake turned the grooved section of it to the left and right but nothing happened.

  Looking at the base of the paddle he found a section of buttons.

  He pressed the one saying “EXT CAM” and the screen immediately changed to the view from the rear of the vehicle.

  “Wow Dad,” Nate said, flicking through the specification pages in the handbook he retrieved, from one of the many compartments situated around the cab.

  “This thing is kitted out better than Nans old caravan in Wales!”

  As his Father played with the paddle, looking at the views of the vehicles external cameras, Nate read aloud a small section of the specifications.

  “Underfloor storage, bespoke living areas, bespoke kitchen with granite work surfaces, internal and external CCTV, diesel powered air-con and central heating system, aluminium plank floor, automated ramps and rear gates. Whatever they are?”

  “I think it’s the ramps the horses use son,” his Father replied, turning the roof camera three hundred and sixty degrees, before zooming into the fields across the rear of the yard, “your Mum will know what they are exactly.”

  “Oh, okay. Shower room with separate cubicles, sleeping for eight, water tanks, hot and cold horse power wash, washer dryer, outside fridge and freezer, silent start remote control generator and, bloody hell, oh yes!”

  “What is it?”

  Nate smiled broadly.

  “Ahem, satellite television system, built in Wi-Fi and Bluetooth, internet system, fully digital flat screen televisions in living area and all sleeping sections and two next generation game consoles.”

  “Sold, I will take two,” Jake said, unable to help smiling at his excited son, despite the circumstances they were currently in.

  Panning the external camera around on its horizontal axis, he picked up the image of Abigail, stood outside holding onto Storm’s lead rope.

  “I’d best go help your Mum,” he said, preparing to climb down from the cab.

  A pain shot through the base of his spine and he grimaced aloud.

  Nate leant over quickly to the driver’s side, placing his hand on his father’s arm.

  “Are you okay Dad?”

  Jake clenched his eyes closed for a moment.

  “Yes son, just a twinge.”

  Nate looked at the pained expression in his father’s face.

  “Stay here whilst I help mum with the two donkeys. Your back is playing up and you might have concussion from before,” he ordered.

  Jake turned his head about to argue, but another ache, the type he occasionally suffered, causing his lower spine to feel it was full of broken glass, caused him to reconsider.

  “Thanks son, I will try to figure out how to open the rear of this thing. Tell your Mum I’m on it.”

  “And that you are not just playing with the cameras? Gotcha,” Nate replied grinning, before jumping from his side of the cab onto the surface below.

  Jake stared around the many dials and buttons in the cab, hoping to find the button allowing access to the rear of the vehicle.

  It’s got to be one of these.

  Not daring to switch anything on without being certain of what its function was, he knew no harm could come from switching the ‘ON’ button on the lower of the two monitors.

  A dark blue screen appeared, a message stating the system must not be operated by the driver whilst the vehicle was in motion and if the user agreed, to press the, “I agree – continue” tab on the screen.

  A Sat-Nav system.

  He pressed the tab and as the next screen loaded and lit up, his face too lit up too.

  He stared at the screen.

  Ins addition an icon for the Sat-Nav menu screen, the screen presented him with tabs and options from everything from the generator up to and including the extending pods, ramps and rear doors.

  Leaning across, he pressed one of the tabs.

  There sounded a loud, audible whoosh, followed by humming as throughout the huge vehicle, various systems came on line.

  Pressing another tab to see if he could lower one of the ramps in the rear, he felt the vehicle jolt slightly and vibrate, as one of the pods started to extend outwards.

  He was unaware this caused Storm to spook, until Abigail came running over to the cab to tell him so.

  He swiftly apologised and she instructed him on what each word meant on the icons on the screen and within half an hour, both of their horses were loaded safely into two of the purpose-built stalls held within the rear of the vehicle.

  The pain in his lower back eased to what he referred to as ‘manageable’, though the throbbing from the cut on his head persisted.

  Abigail reluctantl
y agreed he could help her turn out the remaining horses in the last stable, into the various fields.

  She reminded him which were the mares fields and the gelding fields when he interrupted her, informing her if it possessed a gate, a fence and grass it didn’t matter in which field they were turned out.

  After careful consideration of his argument, they agreed the mares would be turned out into the mare’s field and the geldings would be turned out into theirs.

  Entering the last block, they found the horses a lot calmer.

  The smell of the stables pervaded his nostrils as he entered the block, the combined smells of hay, haylage and straw bedding containing manure and urine were strong.

  Her plan being to turn each horse out one at a time, to give her the chance to give them a quick examination to ensure they were fine, especially the poor beasts who kicked at the breeze blocks of their stalls.

  Fortunately, one of the ‘yard rules’ being owners were to leave their individual horses head collars outside of their stalls, in the eventuality their animals were turned out for them.

  Entering each stall, he would place the head-collar onto each horse and she would stroke and comfort each of them, checking their hooves and legs for any sign of injury, giving them a quick check over, before rugging them up.

  As she started to lead the first horse from the block, he asked her to wait a moment, grabbing one of the large outdoor rugs and walking outside.

  Placing the rug gently over the remains of Rosalind, he could not look at the remains of her face, but whispered, “Rest well,”, dropping the last part of the rug over her, obscuring the view of her corpse.

  They turned out the first horse, who looked intently at the mound covered by the rug as they passed it.

  It did not spook, but Abigail ensured she led it on the opposite side of her, keeping herself between it and the remains of Rosalind.

  This happened for the remainder of the horses.

  Eventually, with only two more horses remaining to turn out, they stopped at the cab for a quick breather.

  Nate informed them he was unable to contact the police on his mobile, but it was across the news and the internet were about the continuing attacks, ongoing, since they arrived at the yard.

  Nate showed them a brief news clip, the news presenter saying they were awaiting an official statement from the government regarding the situation in the North West.

  Reading from a police statement, the presenter informed the public they were not to approach anybody acting in a strange and aggressive manner, and they should leave the area immediately before contacting the police.

  “That’s what we have been trying to do for the last couple of hours,” Jake sighed, “come on Abigail, let’s get the last two turned out, then we can get away from here.”

  Walking through the block to the remaining two horses in the furthest two stalls, they encountered another smell to add to the kaleidoscope of odours hanging in the air.

  The air near the end of the block reeked of the unmistakable stench of death.

  “Stay here Hun, let me look,” he said.

  Walking to the end of the stalls, he slowly peered around the corner to the small area, where the horse owners mixed the foods for their animals.

  Turning quickly to one side, he retched bile on the floor.

  “What is it?” Abigail asked, walking over.

  Waving her away, he finished retching, until it became dry, harsh spasms.

  Looking at her with watery eyes, full of sadness amidst revulsion, he stood up, walking slowly to her.

  “Jake, what is it?”

  “It’s Milly and John…I think.”

  “What do you mean, you think? What is…” she said, a confused across her face.

  “Oh, my dear god no,” she said, the realisation dawning upon her.

  She made her way around him, but with a small amount of force, he grabbed her and spun her around.

  She turned, looking shocked.

  Apart from when they made love, her husband never held her in such a grip before.

  “Do they need help? Are they hurt?”

  “They are far beyond help,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

  It took a moment for her to comprehend what he meant.

  When the realisation hit her, she crumbled like a marionette with its string cut, into his arms.

  “Oh God, no…”

  Holding her tightly, his muscles tensed as he held her close to his chest, whilst she wept openly.

  He held her that way until her weeping became small, sniffling sobs.

  “I really don’t want you to see them.”

  “But how did they…?”

  “I am guessing it was her,” he said, pointing to the open door of the barn.

  “Oh Jake,” she said, following his gaze, “what are we going to do?”

  “Stick to the plan. Get out of here and try and head to a police station.”

  The firmness in his voice, gave her no cause for argument.

  She knew his moods instinctively by the way he spoke, and the way he spoke then, she would have followed him anywhere without question.

  Walking to the two stalls containing the last two horses, they turned them out into the fields with the others.

  Climbing into the giant horsebox, they sat in silence.

  Nate knew by his parent’s expressions, something else was wrong, in addition to what transpired with Rosalind, but kept his silence.

  Qualified to drive a Heavy Goods Vehicle, Jake switched the engine on, slowly manoeuvring the huge vehicle around the side of the block.

  “How are we going to get out with the gates locked?” Nate asked.

  Jake pondered this as the horsebox neared the closed gates.

  Ah well, we may already be in a lot of shit for taking the bloody thing.

  He pulled the vehicle to a stop on the gravel a few yards in front of the gates.

  On the other side of the gate they could see the 4x4, blocking the exit.

  “I’ll go move the car,” he said.

  “I’ll move it love, it will be quicker,” she said, cottoning on to his plan and opening the passenger side door.

  She jumped down from the cab, followed closely by Nate.

  Walking to the gate, they climbed over it and hurried to the 4x4.

  Climbing into it, she reversed it onto the nearby grass embankment, whilst Nate stood outside directing her, to save the car reversing into the stream.

  The 4x4 safely out of the way, they walked to the gate, directing Jake as he drove the huge vehicle slowly to it.

  Slowly, it edged forward, until the giant metal bars covering the front of it pressed against the gate.

  “Stand well back!” Jake called, from the cabs driver’s window.

  The pair of them took refuge behind the rear of the 4x4, whilst he slowly edged the massive horse box forward.

  They could not see the gate snap and crack underneath the massive torque of the mammoth vehicle, but they certainly heard the loud, cracking noise sounding as loud as a gunshot, resonating for miles across the open fields.

  He brought the horsebox to a stop next to the 4x4 and jumped from the cab.

  “Best get her loaded up,” he said.

  They spent another half of an hour loading their things into one of the open doors located on the side of the horsebox, noticing there were no other visitors to the stables whilst they did so.

  The task completed, Jake made his way to his car and sat inside, whilst writing a note explaining that they ran out of fuel, hence being stuck on the embankment.

  Placing it under one of the windscreen wipers, he returned to the cab.

  “Not that it will make much difference,” he said, sitting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine, “Pennines bound then.”

  “Err, not yet,” Abigail said.

  Turned to look at her, he switched off the engine.

  “What do you mean love?”

  She glanced a
t the stables behind them, then turned in her seat to face him.

  “We need to go back to Liverpool.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because we don’t know how long we are going to have to be away from here, that’s why. We need to pop to the saddlery to pick up supplies for the boys in the back.”

  “But love, we may be back tomorrow or in a couple of days, surely we can just pick up some food along the way?” He asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

  She stared at him without saying a word.

  Nate, sat in the rear of the cab, rolled his eyes and placed his headphones in.

  Jake returned his wife’s stare, but could see by the intensity of her eyes, this was turning into another of those situations where it would be easier to go along with her.

  Sighing, he turned to gaze from the large windscreen for a moment, before turning the key in the ignition to bring the beast of a vehicle to life.

  “Saddlery bound then.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Stumpy almost reached the top of the grass verge where Eve stood, transfixed by the sight before her.

  “Err Eve, a hand please Love,” he said, reaching to her.

  Turning, she gripped his outstretched hand, pulling him up onto the crest of the verge.

  “Fucking hell!” He exclaimed, standing alongside her and surveying the scene of carnage below.

  Amongst the many vehicles parked below within the supermarket carpark, crowds of people massed, a few walking, many running and many sprawled on the tarmac.

  There was too much occurring below for their minds to fully process.

  Still, they watched on in horror as a woman crawled slowly along the ground on her hands and knees, pushing a cowering child in front of her away, as the figure of another woman mounted her back, yanking her head by the hair.

  With her head held and arms outstretched, she could not stop her assailant from lowering her mouth to her outstretched flesh, biting deep into her exposed throat.

  Stood frozen in horror, the small child watched as her mother struggled to stem the flow of blood from her neck, her life force draining away as the blood sprayed like a fountain from her torn and exposed jugular vein.

  Her attacker sat astride her, holding the torn flesh to her mouth as her teeth ripped it apart.