The Infected Chronicles (Book 1): Origin

by Fessey, Andie

  “I feel bad about just taking things from here, but we need things for the horses.”

  “You will not be taking anything from here without paying for it first!” Another voice called from behind the woman.

  Peering from behind her, appeared the two faces of a middle-aged woman and a younger girl.

  “Hi Cath,” Abigail said, walk across to them.

  “Oh, it’s you Abigail,” the older of the two replied, “we thought it was one of those weird people.”

  “Weird people?” Jake asked, walked behind his wife, closely followed by Nate.

  “What do you mean by weird people?”

  The young girl stepped forward. Standing about the same height and stature as Abigail, wearing a pair of black jodhpurs over black hunters, her sweatshirt purple and bore the logo of the shop.

  “Have you not seen any of those weirdos?” she asked.

  Jake and Abigail exchanged looks, remembering clearly the occurrence earlier at the stables.

  “We haven’t seen anybody acting weird,” Jake replied, “on the streets.”

  “A lot of people running around and the traffic is really terrible,” Abigail added, “we’ve heard a bit on the news about more attacks though.”

  “The traffic is a lot heavier I guess, because they have suspended all of the buses and trains,” Cath said, stepping closer, wearing the same attire as the girl, “we’ve seen a couple of them strange people this morning. We tried to get through to the police but the line is always busy.”

  Reaching them she took one of Abigail’s hands in hers.

  “You should see have seen them Abigail, they looked awful. Shambling along the road they were earlier,” she said, “one crossed over the carpark towards Stanley Street, that’s when we hid back here in case he saw us.”

  Turning around, Jake looked at the automatic door.

  “Why didn’t you close the door?” he asked.

  “Mandy, our manager, had to head to one of the wholesalers this morning to get some more stock,” Cath said, “she has the keys to the shop on her. We keep calling her mobile but it’s just ringing.”

  “You have horses?” The red-faced woman asked.

  “That’s why we’re in here, not Asda like normal people,” Nate said.

  “Oi Nathan,” Jake reproached, “show a bit of respect, please.”

  “Gill,” she said, offering her outstretched hand, which Jake shook, noticing she possessed an extremely strong grip.

  “Hi Gill, I’m Jake and this is my wife Abigail, and mouth almighty there is our son Nathan.”

  Smiling, she shook their hands in turn.

  “You have horses you say. What do you have? Are they far?”

  “They are outside in the box,” Abigail replied, “an ex-steepler and a warmblood.”

  “Are they safe?” Gill asked, with an obvious look of concern.

  “Perish the thought that one of those odd people break into the box and hurt the poor things.”

  “That’s the ‘box’,” Jake said, turning and pointing through the glass doorway.

  “That’s smart thinking,” Gill said, casting a quick glance, smiling.

  “Isn’t that the box Rosalind bought?” The young girl asked.

  “We’ve borrowed it for a while,” Jake replied, before Abigail could utter a word.

  He half expected to be pulled over by the police for driving a stolen vehicle, but they appeared to have more important matters to attend to.

  “My two are not far from here back at my place,” Gill continued, “a couple of old cobs who’ve seen far better days. My sister and her husband are there with their children now watching over them, whilst I grab some things from here. A bit like you.”

  “Well, if you need a hand carrying anything large, just let us know,” Jake offered.

  “You’re very kind,” Gill replied, “but really I should be okay, I’ve almost filled the car. Just grabbing some fly-spray then I’m done”

  “I’ll be getting some of that myself,” Abigail said, “is it still near the back?”

  “Oh, they’ve changed it all around, haven’t you?” Gill replied, smiling at the two members of staff, now stood near the counter.

  “Can never leave things be can you? Grab a trolley and I will show you where.”

  Giving Jake the list she made, Abigail grabbed a trolley, following Gill into the depths of the vast store.

  “Help me with these trollies son,” Jake said, turning to Nate.

  Grabbed the sides of the dozen trollies, entwined together, they pushed them in front of the door.

  “Just being cautious,” he said, glancing at the two shop workers.

  “That’s fine by me,” Cath said, “you go get what you need and Sarah and I will wait here in case anybody else arrives.”

  Grabbing a trolley each, Jake and Nate made their way after Abigail.

  They were in the shop for well over an hour, longer than Jake preferred. But, Abigail was right. With no idea, how long they would have to keep the horses in the box for, an opportunity like this to get what they needed, would save them worrying later.

  By the time all the items were processed through the till, it resulted in a massive bill.

  Jake handed over his credit card.

  Any more of these transactions and we’ll be having beans on toast for the next few months.

  They managed to fill nearly two of the previously empty stalls with goods from the store.

  Raven, figuring food lay nearby, became agitated.

  Accompanying them, Gill stood in the stalls within the rear of the horse box alongside Abigail, speaking of horse related things.

  The large chestnut, placated again as Nate handed him horse treats.

  Jake offered to take the two ladies in the shop to their respective homes, though inwardly dreading the idea of having to add a couple more journeys and time onto to their own.

  But they politely refused, saying Mandy called to say was returning to the shop, but her car was stuck in heavy traffic.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The mini bus drew up alongside the kerb, the children sat within, peering intently through its windows.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to just head back to the school and pick you up later?” The driver asked the man sat in the seat behind him.

  “And add the expenseof more fuel onto this trip?” The man replied, tutting aloud.

  “It will only take me about twenty minutes to get back and I’m certain I can be making much better use of my time than just sitting around.”

  The other man stared at him through wire frame glasses. In his late thirties, he looked and carried himself as if many years older. His dark hair, streaked with grey at the sides, lay cut short atop of a perpetually serious, grave face.

  “We will be here for a good few hours yet,” he said, “but we have to visit the museum this afternoon and I have an itinerary I do not wish to deviate from.”

  “The trip to the museum is not until later on in the afternoon. I will be back well before then Paul,” countered the driver in response.

  “How many times do I have to tell you” the man responded indignantly tone, “please do not address me by my forename, in front of the pupils?”

  “Okay, I will be back well before then, Mr Devlin.”

  Seated next to Paul, Heather turned to face the rear of the bus.

  A few of the children seated there giggled, so she smiled at them, placing one finger on her lips to quieten them.

  If it was any of the other teaching assistants, other than Heather, then they may have continued, but the children ceased their giggling and smiled at her.

  The girls looked in awe at Heather’s fingernail as it rested upon her lips for a moment.

  They loved the way she painted her nails.

  Nail art, something Heather indulged herself in.

  Knowing how strict the school could be, regarding her not wearing her, what Paul and the other conservative teachers
called, ‘flamboyant’ earrings, nor the piercing she wore in her dark perfectly lined eyebrow, her nails were one part of her physical traits the school possessed no say over.

  For now, at least.

  Her interview went well at the beginning of the last school term. She felt overjoyed at being given the news, her application for employment in the role of a teaching assistant, was successful.

  God knows I need the money.

  Having to pay a mortgage as a single person, was a constant worry at the time, resulting in several sleepless nights.

  Leaving university full of dreams, hopes and ideals, she found herself fortunate enough to gain employment in a prestigious art gallery, enjoying several years of being paid to work amongst creative people, as well as creative works of art.

  Unfortunately, she suffered because of the success of the gallery, as they relocated their business to London.

  Going away to University was one thing, relocating to the other end of the country, especially to a city she could not envisage herself living in, became another thing altogether.

  She entered her parents’ lives as a total surprise, as they were in their late forties when she was born.

  “Our little miracle,” her father proudly called her.

  Childless, they gave up on their dream of having a child, after constant IVF treatments failed.

  She could not live too far away from them.

  They gave her nothing but their full support throughout her life and understood she wanted a semblance of independence, by buying her own place.

  Her place only a five-minute walk from their house, made her leaving home an easier pill to swallow.

  They offered to continue paying her mortgage, but she would hear none of it and was successful in gaining employment in one of the city’s public galleries.

  Her employment there ended abruptly, due to government cutbacks in the public sector.

  Subsequently, she found herself during her induction as a teaching assistant, agreeing not to wear her brow ring, nor ‘flamboyant’ ear rings and neither to have the tattoos on her upper arms and shoulders on display at any time.

  Thinking of the job as purely a stop gap until she found something better, she did not count upon the fact she would fall in love with her job, loving to be around the children.

  One of the downsides being, putting up with the likes of Paul, but it was a small price to pay for being in a job she otherwise loved.

  Turning, she was surprised to find Paul agree, their driver Joe could return to their school, ‘under the strictest understanding’ he return in time to pick them up for their trip to the museum.

  “I will make sure I am back in plenty of time Mr Devlin. But are you sure that you want to go ahead with the trip? There have been loads of attacks on the news.”

  “Do not mention anything like the word ‘attacks’ in front of the pupils,” Paul said, leaning close to him, “in any case, the ‘incidents’ are isolated and we have already paid for this trip, so I am not keen on the school incurring another fiscal loss.”

  Heather sighed.

  It all boils down to money again.

  “But what about what is going on over at the hospital and the other places?” Joe asked.

  “One,” Paul retorted, “the hospital is miles away from the city centre and two, the police have already stated the incidents are being brought under control. We will not allow the acts of others to affect our lives and way of living, so just make sure that you are back here at the agreed specified time.”

  Turning, Joe opened the driver’s door, stepping from the mini bus, to ensure the children exited safely onto the pavement.

  He opened the sliding door at the side of the vehicle and Paul stepped out first, immediately followed by Heather, who gave him the most wonderful of smiles.

  He returned the smile, whilst she instructed the children, who was to exit the bus in what order.

  Exiting the bus one by one, the children made their way across the short distance of the pavement, to where Paul stood waiting, looking at the papers on the clip board he held in front of him, his solid silver pen in his hand.

  “Thank you, Miss,” spoke one young voice after another, as she helped them down.

  She smiled at each of them, telling them they were welcome, until there remained only one more pupil left on the bus.

  Leaning into the bus, Heather saw the girl still sat in the seat, the one behind hers.

  She sat staring intently at the screen of the portable gaming device, held within her small hands.

  “Kiera sweetheart,” Heather called gently, “we are here. It’s time to go explore the tunnels.”

  Looking up, Kiera gave Heather a huge smile, lighting up her face. Heather smiled, both on her face and inside of her heart. Kiera made her way slowly to the exit, Heather holding her hands to her. The girl gently took Heather’s hand and carefully stepped down from the bus.

  “Your nails are pretty again,” she said.

  “Why thank you sweetheart,” Heather said, helping put her handheld device into the radiant pink satchel she carried.

  “What colour are they today?”

  “Today, they are a nice shade of ‘Lincoln Park after Dark’ with a few swirls of silver I added in.”

  “What is a Lincoln?”

  “I will tell you at break time sweetheart, now let’s go join the others.”

  Holding the girls hand, they walked to the rest of the class.

  Turning, she gave the driver a wave and bright smile.

  “See you later Joe, drive safely,” she called.

  Joe returned the wave.

  She’s bloody wasted working in this school.

  After closing the side door, he returned to the driver’s seat.

  Switching the engine on, he slowly pulled away from the kerb.

  Glancing in the rear-view mirror at the small party standing outside the gate as he drove away, he shook his head.

  I must have missed that bit on the radio about the police bringing everything under control.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  That saddlery manager was spot on.

  The traffic was heavily congested, not improving much at all, as Jake expected, as they slowly made their way to the motorway.

  The heavy traffic almost bumper-to-bumper along most of the way.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea being on the motorway Dad?” Nate asked.

  “Seems the logical thing to do. It will get us out of here quicker.”

  Eventually, the motorways turn off lay only a few miles ahead.

  Nate pointed to the motorway bridge passing over the East Lancashire Road.

  Looking up, Jake saw what his son meant, the traffic stood at a standstill.

  It could go on for miles. Everybody else must have had the same idea.

  “What are you thinking love?” Abigail asked, as they sat in the confines of the huge cab.

  “Maybe taking the back roads?”

  The thought of being stuck on the motorway in a horse box as big as a HGV, did not appeal.

  He reset the satellite navigation system to avoid motorways.

  Following another twenty minutes, they managed to turn from the main road onto a side road, heading into an industrial estate situated alongside the embankment of the motorway.

  “Oh, for god’s sake!” He exclaimed, steering the large vehicle into one of the smaller side roads of the estate.

  “What is it Love?” Abigail asked.

  Leaning over, Jake stared intently at screen of the navigation system.

  “I should have taken the next turn off Love, after the motorway exit, not this one. We’ll have to turn around.”

  He slowly reversed the horsebox onto the main road of the estate.

  As soon as the immense vehicle moved slowly around the corner, there sounded a loud beep as a large, loud motorbike pulled up alongside their cab.

  Rolling the window down to see what the rider wanted to say, Jake found
himself greeted with a torrent of verbal abuse.

  He wound the window up, as the rider stuck one finger at him.

  “What’s that about?” Abigail asked.

  “I forgot to check the rear cameras and almost reversed over him.”

  “Oh,” Abigail said, staring from the window at the large motorbike, pulled to a halt near the cab of the horsebox.

  “Whoops,” Nate said, laughing quietly.

  The rider stopped casting obscene gestures and revved his bike loud. He raised the visor of his helmet, staring at them for a few moments with a threatening scowl upon his face.

  “Idiot,” Abigail remarked.

  He stared a few moments longer, before closing the visor.

  He pulled hard on the throttle, the bike shooting forwards as if fired from a cannon, before being placed into a wheelie by the rider.

  He did not notice the van speeding out from the entrance to one of the units to his left.

  He was completely unaware of its existence until the moment it hit his bike and he found himself hurled from it and into the other side of the road, the asphalt scraping away at the leather of his jacket and trousers.

  The bike, throwing sparks into the air, continued across the road, before coming to a rest halfway up a grass verge.

  “Oh, my good God!” Abigail exclaimed, placing her hands to her face.

  At precisely that moment, a car overtook their stationary vehicle at a rapid speed.

  Now in the other lane, the driver did not see the figure rocking on the floor as the rider lay writhing on the floor.

  His car did not stop as he ran over the rider.

  The driver must have felt the car bump as the front wheel crushed the rider’s skull as it passed over his helmet, but accelerated away regardless to the main carriageway.

  “Don’t look Nate!” Jake yelled, but his son already borne witness to what occurred.

  Within moments, a battered hatchback turned onto the estate from the main road, pulled up across the road from the body of the deceased rider.

  An attractive, middle-aged woman with flowing dark hair stepped from the driver’s side of the car, approaching the rider as if to help.

  As much as he felt shocked at the sight of what occurred, Jake could not help but notice the busty figure of the woman, walking slowly to the still body of the rider.