Swarm (Book 2)

by Alex South

  Duke was already there, finding his feet. Jess was the next to fall in.

  “Push me! Push me! Push me!” shouted the little girl.

  Elena got up and glanced back at the zombies. She could not see how far back the crowd stretched. Some of them were looking at her now, but most were still staring straight ahead, eyes glazed.

  “Push me! Push me! Push meeeee!” shouted the little girl.

  Elena slowly moved behind her and did as she was told – too numb to do otherwise. She watched as they brought John forward and pushed him over. Next came Dreadlocks, then Laura, who cried out in pain as her body hit the ground.

  John stayed down – curled up and crying hysterically.

  “Weeee!”

  “Que’ Esta’ Pasando?” said Elena, to herself, to the girl, to anyone.

  “Weeee!”

  Elena watched the zombies slowly turn to face her with empty yellow eyes.

  “Estoy Muerta?” she said.

  “Weeee!”

  As Elena waited, as the moment continued to somehow exist. She began to sense that everything was stuck in a loop. Again the girl swung forwards, and then back – rising up in front of Elena. Again, Elena pushed, feeling the rubber seat, and traces of clothes in her hands. And again the girl would swing. And again. And again. In that park. Under that sky. Was this it? thought Elena. Was this what it meant to be bitten. Was this what happened? Your mind got stuck in some half-world composed from the memories of your last moments?

  Was this all a creation of her mind? Was she now infected? She looked at the scene again.

  The zombies. The girl. Her friends, Laura and John on the ground — she waited for something to click. But everything remained just as it was — endless, with the girl’s swings counting the arbitrary intervals.

  Elena needed some sort of answer, some indication of her fate.

  “Que’ Esta’ Pasando?” She asked again.

  No reply.

  Elena moved around to face the little girl.

  “Hey!” she shouted.

  “You’re going under my feet!” exclaimed the girl, referencing her own perspective, in which Elena, and the whole world was rushing away as she swung over it all.

  “What’s happening?” Elena asked.

  “Why?” the girl drew out the word.

  “I want… I want to know.”

  “Why?” she said.

  “Because…”

  “Why?”

  Elena could not find any more words.

  …

  Something had broken in John. His mind had fallen into a formless mess. He was losing himself, each thought ripped itself out of his grasp. Each passing second forced him deeper into the chaos. His own consciousness was crushing him, burying him – now no longer intelligible or controllable. He had no orientation, no trail to lead him back to anything stable, or congruent.

  He rejected it now. This was not him. He reached for his gun once more. Certain that he would take control. That he would take charge of the ugliness. That he would have the final word. That he would kill himself.

  His palm patted the space where his gun had been. It had been taken by the crowd. He searched for the grenade. It, too, was gone.

  …

  Mixed in with the depths of Dreadlocks’ terror, was a raw fascination. Surely, he was looking at the link between this world and some other one. He saw past the little girl’s exterior, and instead knew that this was a spirit, or a kind of unearthly entity.

  He had long harboured theories that the undead were linked to some fundamental spiritual force. To him it was clear. For mankind to suffer such an inexplicable and cruel fate, there had to be something going on beyond the explanation of science, with all its limitations.

  “Who are you?” said Dreadlocks.

  “Stacy.”

  “And what are you, Stacy?” said Dreadlocks.

  “Um… I’m a pigeon,” she giggled at her own joke.

  “Stacy, you must have something to tell us.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Stacy, I know humankind is difficult to understand. I don’t know what you are, but talk to us. We’re ready to communicate.”

  Dreadlocks was sure he could feel the energy coming from her. He knew that this was meant to happen, that his purpose was to be here, standing at the void between this world and hers.

  Stacy said nothing.

  “I beg you, with the sincerest thoughts of my people. We are here. We are listening.”

  …

  After listening to Dreadlocks speak, things had started to click into place for Duke. This girl was somehow a part of this. Perhaps it was her that had started the apocalypse. The word ‘demon’ swam in his head. She was evil. She was all of this: the suffering, the loss, the things he had been forced to do. He felt strongly, now, that she could be behind it all.

  A sharp resentment rose in him, an urge to destroy her.

  “Why are you doing this?” Duke shouted.

  There was no answer.

  “Why are you doing this?” Duke shouted again. The zombies started to groan louder. Hands grasped the fence, as the undead began to lift themselves over. Something sank inside Duke. Bitterness took him. She thought she could do this to him.

  “Stop them! Stop them… or I’ll kill you!” His words felt like a bluff, as if he could never truly defeat her, whatever she was. Yet, in his hatred, he felt powerful. In his hatred, he fought against her darkness.

  “They’re going to eat you,” said the little girl. Her eyebrows had drawn closer together, pushing her forehead into a frown. Her bottom lip stuck out.

  The bitterness twisted and squirmed in his gut. She had to pay. He would make her feel pain. Just let those zombies came closer. He would break her neck.

  “Stacy, no,” said Dreadlocks, taking a step forward and raising his palm, “please, we mean you no harm.”

  “They’re going to eat you!” Her voice shook with distress.

  The first few zombies came down from the fence — now slowly stepping closer. Dreadlocks moved over to Duke, protectively wrapping his arms around him. Jess was screaming. Duke wrestled free from his embrace. This was it. He was going to run at her – into whatever abyss awaited.

  “Stacy, if you leave him, we will get you sweets!” Elena shouted. The little girl turned her head to Elena, eyes glazed. The zombies froze, arms swinging loosely at their sides.

  “We will get you some sweets, I promise to you,” said Elena. Her voice trembled slightly. Her usual Mediterranean glow had become a sickly pale colour.

  Stacy continued to stare, now speaking, “Where are you going to get them from?”

  “They are in the house.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Oh, we live in a big house and we have a lot of sweets,” said Elena, eyes fixed on the girl, with the zombies a few steps behind her.

  “What kind of sweets?”

  “Mmmm, all the kinds. Chocolate, and… strawberry, and -”

  “Do you have… do you have the chocolate cups?”

  “Yes. We have a many. I don’t like them, but you can have them if you want to.”

  “Yes,” she flashed a big smile.

  “We can go to the house. And we can get them. For you.”

  “Why do you sound funny?”

  “I’m Spanish.”

  “Spanish?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a silence, as neither of them said anything.

  “So, we’re going to go to get your sweets,” said Elena.

  “But…” Stacy played with her hands as she paused to think for a few second, “how long will you be?”

  “Oh, only a very small time. We live close to here.”

  “All of you…” she paused, but gave no indication why — as if she was just waiting patiently for the words to come, “live in the same house?”

  “Yes. We do. So… you wait here, promise to not move so we can find you again. And we will go to get them.�
��

  “Be quick. Be quick,” she said, suddenly smiling and throwing her arms up and down.

  “We will,” Elena moved over to John who had crawled to the ladder of the see-saw and was sobbing uncontrollably. She pulled him up. He trembled in her hands, his eyes staring at the ground. Now, holding his arm, Elena made a few tentative steps towards the gate. Dreadlocks had already picked Laura back up.

  “Stacy, can you move your friends away?” said Elena.

  Stacy closed her eyes, and screwed her face up in concentration. “They’re not listening,” she said. After some time she opened her eyes. “I can’t do it now.”

  “Please, try it again,” said Elena.

  The little girl closed her eyes again. A few seconds passed. Suddenly she hit herself in the head, then again, then again. She stopped. Now the zombies began to back away, creating a space.

  “Come on,” said Elena to the group, “you all have sweets, and so you help me find them.”

  They all slowly walked to the gate, now entering the space in the crowd, which stretched over the grass of the park and led to a stone wall. Duke felt a tightness in his throat as the ranks of empty faces grew around him. Each figure they passed emphasised the fragility of this moment, each pair of eyes, staring into nothingness, seemed heavy with anticipation.

  They came to the stone wall and climbed it. Now they were out of the crowd. They walked across the brightly lit grass, crossing the field and coming to a wood - every moment falling like hail upon them. The trees grew closer and began to surround them. John started running.

  …

  The trees rushed forward as John dodged in between them and jumped over uneven footings. It seemed that whatever had spewed forth in that park, he was not to be a part of it. All his helplessness had washed away, replaced by a simple, miraculous freedom.

  Run.

  Running was the embodiment of his struggle. Having caved in mere moments ago, to run, to have space stretching ahead of him was the ultimate reaffirmation.

  Run.

  His escape swirled in each breath, as he ripped them out of the sky, as his legs hit the ground, emphasising freedom with their pounding rhythm. His spirit lifted above him in a rise of adrenaline.

  Run.

  In that moment he was entirely his own, entirely free. In that moment he was running and that was all that mattered.

  He didn’t understand what had just happened. He knew that it was over. He had been taken away from it. He had been given a different fate. He glanced behind him and saw that Duke was running too. John couldn’t see the others. But it was okay. He was running – he was running and everything was falling behind him. And the trees were beautiful as they drew lines in his vision and sped past his sides. And the sun could feel him and it loved him

  Suddenly, John could feel his body again, the need for breath, the burning in his muscles. Now it all hit him. He tried to fight it; he tried to elevate his mind beyond it again, but he couldn’t find the same state, and soon it was all too much, and he found himself stopping. He found himself drawing in air with heavy, urgent shudders. He found himself looking back for the others. At first there was no-one. Then Duke appeared, moving in and out of the trees.

  “John! Stop!” John heard him shout. This didn’t make sense to him: he wasn’t running. He wasn’t moving. He looked around, checking for something that Duke might have seen. He waited as Duke caught up with him.

  “Wait,” Duke spoke in between breaths. “We gotta wait for the others.”

  John looked back at the trees. “Where have they gone?”

  “Come on. Back this way.”

  …

  Pain. That was all that Laura knew. Everything else had become ghostly and distant. Sharp, unrelenting pain. She could feel her body panicking. It didn’t matter what she did. She wasn’t in this fight. But her body, her body knew everything.

  John and Duke came into view. They drew close. John smiled at her. Why is he smiling? she thought.

  “We gotta go back,” said Duke.

  No one said anything at first.

  “No…” said Laura.

  “It’s… she’s… the cause of all this, right?” said Duke.

  “What?” said Elena.

  “She’s… she’s the one controlling them. It’s her! That’s why we have zombies; it’s all because of her.”

  “Duke, you’re not making sense.” said Dreadlocks.

  “Urrrghh, hurry up,” shouted Laura.

  “She’s the centre,” Duke brought his hands close together, as if holding a small ball of energy, “she’s the one making this happen.”

  The wind rustled the leaves above them.

  “So, we gotta kill her,” Duke continued.

  “We can’t,” said Jess.

  “Why?” said Duke.

  “We need to get Laura help,” said Dreadlocks.

  “Yes… please…” said Laura.

  “Yeah,” said John.

  “But… She’s the one. She’s the controller. We can end this,” said Duke.

  “I don’t think she can be killed,” said Dreadlocks.

  “We’re not going back,” said Jess. “I’m not going back.”

  “I’m fucking bleeding here,” said Laura, “Dreadlocks, take me. Take me there.”

  Dreadlocks started moving again. “Come on Duke,” he said.

  “You guys go. I’m ending this,” said Duke turning back around.

  “Duke! Wait!” shouted Elena. But Duke started jogging back.

  Jess ran to his side and grabbed him, “Duke, you’re being stupid.”

  “She’s the cause of this! I can end it,” said Duke.

  “But… you don’t know that. Even if you did, you need to come to the house first. You don’t even have a weapon.”

  Duke looked at the others. “Who’s got a gun?”

  Most of the group spoke at once – with everyone saying that they didn’t have one.

  Now Duke stared at Jess for a few seconds. “All right. A knife. Laura, which way?”

  Chapter 2

  They came out of the wood and onto a steep hillside— an expansive area, segmented into rough squares by drystone walls, all of it rising up to draw a line in the sky, to create an uneven horizon.

  “Please, go faster… please,” said Laura. “It’s that building.”

  She pointed to a large farmhouse further up the hill.

  “There’s this, like, fake plastic stone in the greenhouse,” she continued, “with a key in it. But Poppy might be there.”

  John had slipped into numbness. All emotion and thoughts stayed on the edges of his mind, ghostly and hard to define. He was unable to make any summation of what had happened. All he understood was the simple components of now. The sun. The grass. The sky. The other people with him. The fact that they were going somewhere.

  Then, there was Laura. She needed him.

  This became something to hold onto - something to take him out of his head and anchor him to a purpose. It gave him a way to fight. He would fight for her, to keep her alive. She needed him. She needed him to be strong. He bent his whole will around her.

  They said nothing as they continued up the slope. Eventually they arrived at the house. It was a tall building of weathered brick, with large, wooden frame windows. The group moved straight to the greenhouse. There wasn’t much space; only Jess and Duke were able to search it. After only a few seconds, Jess located the plastic stone. She flipped the panel underneath. It was empty.

  “Did you drop it?” said Duke.

  “No, I can’t have.”

  “Maybe it’s somewhere else,” said Laura.

  Duke moved to the front of the house. He lifted up the doormat, which read: ‘Oh shit not you again’ – but found nothing. He checked under the plant pots, and inside them – scratching around in the dirt.

  “Let’s knock. She might be inside,” he said.

  “Be careful.” Urged Jess.

  Duke pounded on the door. “
Hello…? Hello…? Humans here! Let us in…We need help! We’re injured… one of us is injured… she’s… we need help! Laura, what’s the name of your friend?”

  “Poppy,” several people said at once.

  “Poppy! Poppy! I’m here with Laura, Poppy!”

  No reply.

  “We gotta smash the door,” said Duke. Before anyone could respond, he took a step back and smashed his foot into it.

  “Whoa! Duke, wait!” Shouted Dreadlocks. The others joining him with similar cautions.

  But now there was an unfamiliar voice. “Stop! Stop!” A man, shouting from behind the door.

  “We need help!” Duke shouted, “Please… Please. Let us in.”

  The door clicked and opened. A man stood, framed by the space. Most of his face lay hidden under a large beard and messy black hair. His eyes glanced at them, then flicked to the ground.

  They stared at him for a few seconds, expecting him to speak.

  “Can we enter your house?” said Dreadlocks finally. “Our friend is hurt and needs help.”

  The man’s eyes moved to Laura’s wound. “She’s been bitten,” he said.

  “No. No, it’s not a bite. It’s cool,” said Duke.

  The man stared back at the floor and said nothing.

  “Look, we’ll show you. We’ll show you. Just… please… come.” said Duke.

  “No,” said Laura, “I need to keep the pressure on.”

  “Laura, you have to show him,” said Jess.

  “No! I won’t!”

  “He won’t let us in, if you don’t show him,” said Jess.

  John suddenly hated this man. “Hey! What…? Do you think we’re stupid? Of course, she’s not bitten. Just let us in.”

  “Laura, show him,” said Jess.

  “Come on, Laura. You gotta do it,” said Duke.

  “Where’s Poppy?” Laura said.

  The man said nothing.

  “Where’s Poppy?” said Laura.

  “Laura, let him see,” said Duke.

  “Where’s Poppy? Get her out here!”

  There was a silence.

  “Laura, please,” said Duke, “we don’t have time.”

  Laura looked at him for a few seconds, then slowly lifted her hands off her wound, before gently lifting her t-shirt. The man came out of the house and moved closer to inspect it.