“I know that.” He folds up the map, shoves it back in his pack. “But it makes sense. Don’t you see. It has huge remote open spaces, I doubt the infection spread there like it did in the cities. The people would have been too widely spread.” His voice raises in pitch, eyes wide as he pleads with me. “Please Lou, just trust me on this one. My gut says Scotland.”
“I’ve heard your gut say a lot of things.” I comment dryly, forcing a smile to my face that I don’t feel in my bones. If I had known that we were basing this entire journey on an accent I would never have left my apartment. A minor detail he failed to share with me before we set off on this fool’s errand. I suppose it’s my own stupid fault for not asking beforehand. Blowing through my nose I push to my feet, snatch up my pack and turn to Drew.
“Well, if we’re headed to Scotland we better get moving. In case you haven’t noticed it’s a bit of a hike.” Drew squints up at me, mouth quirked in a half smile. I pull him to his feet, smirking up into his face to show him I’m not mad. “Wherever Haven is, it can’t be any worse than where we’ve come from right? Nowhere can.”
Ever heard the saying famous last words? I held up a big red flag to fate and she accepted the challenge with gusto.
What a bitch.
“Any bright ideas?” I whisper. We’ve been crouched behind this wall for what feels like days, my legs cramped and feet numb. I’m tired and hungry and really don’t feel like facing down the mass of infected that block our path.
“Err…” is Drew’s helpful response. Great, just great. I slump against the wall, head resting against rough brick, a cacophony of moans and snarls playing on a loop in the background. Closing my eyes, I think of my warm bed, the safety of four walls around me keeping the bad guys out. “We may have to circle back the way we came, look for another route.”
I know that I’m grumpy due to fatigue so I hold in my snarky comments, knowing how incredibly unhelpful they would be right now. Drew slips down beside me, wrapping my hand in his and drawing my eyes to his face. I squeeze his fingers, lips pressed tight for fear of what will come out if I open them.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Rising to a crouch he leads us back the way we came, circling around until we’re walking through another large open field. My back is aching and my legs are so tired I fear they may fall off. I want to stop. To rest, but we have hours of daylight left and we can’t waste them. Once the sun sets, it will be too dangerous to keep moving, untold dangers lurking in every shadow.
Drew comes to halt, throwing his pack to the ground and stretching his arms above his head. I drop to the ground in relief, watching as the sun dips beyond the horizon. I’m so tired I could sleep for a week. Stretching out my weary legs I watch as Drew busies himself with the tent, eyes pinched in concentration, lips moving without words. Without the sun shining on our backs, a chill seeps into my bones. I shiver. We need fire.
I discard my pack and move around the field in search of kindling. If there was one thing I learned during my years of camping it was how to start a fire; probably the only useful thing I did learn on those trips. Well, that and my limit of tequila shots. Trees line the perimeter and I head towards them, squatting to collect snapped twigs and dead leaves, fallen branches and dry grass. While I search my mind wanders, what ifs running around my head. What if we hadn’t left? What if this doesn’t work? What if I was right and Haven is just a joke? What if it isn’t there?
I shake away the doubt. No point to it now. We’ve taken the plunge and no matter how many times my mind goes there, it’s too late. We’ll get there or we won’t. We survive or we’ll die. Well that was morbid. Arms laden I head back to Drew who is still wrestling with the tent, cheeks flushed, eyebrows dipped low over his eyes. I bite back a smirk, dumping the wood and kindling in the grass.
“Want some help?” I snicker, earning me a glare.
“No, I can do it.” I’m unsure if that is directed at me or himself but I allow him his macho moment and set about building the fire. It takes come coaxing but eventually the tinder catches, spreading to the kindling and eventually the firewood. I lean back on my haunches, pride soaring in my chest, spreading a genuine grin over my face.
“Not bad” Drew beams behind me. I twist to see the tent erected a few feet from the campfire. I give him my best impressed look, eyebrows raised. He grins, dirty blonde hair flopping over his eyes. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”
We sit down for a meal of tinned green beans and beef jerky. Not the most appetising but soon my severely shrunken stomach is satisfied. Setting down my can I curl my knees up to my chest, listening to the crackle of the fire, cheeks heated by the flames.
“The photo in your jacket. Is that your mum?” His question catches me off guard. I blink several times, a knot tightening in my stomach. I nod my head, staring back into the fire. “Were you close?”
I nod again, swallowing a sigh, unwilling to open that particular subject for discussion but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Drew, he’s persistent. Before he can ask I open my mouth to speak. “She died of cancer three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” The fire casts shadows across his face, his eyes brooding as he watches them dance. “What about your dad?”
This time I really do sigh. “Mark? He found out my mum was pregnant and ran away like his arse was on fire. Said he couldn’t be a father.” I pause, my mood turning dark. “It was just me and mum after that.”
“Did you ever see him?” Drew adds another log to the fire, poking it with a big stick. It crackles, spitting into the air as it catches.
“Once. I decided to go looking for him. It was just after mum died and I guess I was just searching for a parent.” Bitterness twists inside me, black and poisonous, infecting everything it touches.
“Did you find him?” Drew’s voice is quiet, as if he might shatter the moment, fearing that I’ll retreat back inside myself where I’ve lived for the last twenty-one years.
I clear my throat, swallowing hard before forcing out the words. “Mark Doyle lives in Leeds with his two daughters, Jessica and Isabelle, his wife Karen and a Labrador called Stevie.” I hug my knees closer, rest my chin on the sharp edge, stare into the fire unseeing. “I didn’t even bother to tell him who I was.” A sad smile curves my lips. “It wasn’t that he didn’t want a family he just… didn’t want me.”
Drew steps around the fire, dropping beside me to pull me into a hug. I rest my head in the crook of his arm, feel his heart beating beneath my cheeks, the comfort of his embrace.
“Well, it’s his loss. He doesn’t know what he’s missing and he doesn’t deserve to. Your mum did a great job without his help.” I nod, having heard those words a million times over from anyone who knows my story. And while I know it’s true, that he didn’t deserve to know me and that I turned out just fine without him, there’s a small part of me that wishes he had reached out.
Wonders what was so wrong with me that he didn’t.
Five
- Don’t Look Back -
The Borough and New City of Milton Keynes. The sign is splattered with blood and dirt, half hanging off its post as we approach. Coming to halt I rest my hands on my knees, stretching calves that turned to stone about five miles ago. We’ve been walking for two days on nothing but green beans and jerky. If I never see another green bean again it will be too soon. What I would give for a cheeseburger right about now.
The machine that is Drew continues walking, head down and determined. I on the other hand have never been so out of shape, every muscle whining in protest as I force my legs to move, boots scraping along the road. Long abandoned businesses rise up around us as we move deeper into the town.
“We should check out a few of these places. We might find some of the stuff we were missing.” Drew suggests. I nod, despite not wanting to enter another shop ever again. Our first stop is a hardware store. Drew peruses the aisles in his usual easy going way while I stare out the windows. I can’t put my fin
ger on it but something about this place doesn’t feel right. It’s so…
“Drew?” I call, twisting to search for him. His dirty blonde hair pops over the top of the shelves, followed by his face and shoulders. I beckon him over with my hand, turning back to look out at the street. Stopping at my side he stares at me with expectant eyes. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that we haven’t seen one infected since we got here?”
Drew frowns out at the street. Turning to me he shrugs. “Maybe the infection didn’t spread this far. Maybe it was just the big cities.”
I shake my head. “But there’s nobody here. It’s a ghost town. If the infection hadn’t come this far, this place would be full of people.” I lift my eyes to his. “An entire town doesn’t just vanish into thin air.”
Drew turns away, heading back to the shelves and slipping the backpack from his shoulders as he goes. “Help me gather this stuff and then we’ll go.”
With reluctance I turn from the window, shrug off the straps of my bag and head towards where Drew kneels. We grab torches and some matches, Drew grinning when he finds a hatchet and a tinder box. A rack of keyrings stands by the checkout and I don’t know what possesses me to do it but I pick one up. Its long and blue, Milton Keynes emblazoned across the front. Why I would want a souvenir I have no idea but I shove it into my pocket anyway, figuring I can spare the room.
Stepping back into the street I am once again overwhelmed with the feeling that something isn’t right. That we’re not safe here. There has to be a reason there are no infected. Someone or something cleared them out. I pray that the infected just moved on and migrated elsewhere but it’s a delusion. A delusion I have no right to hold onto but what if the cure is worse than the disease. I don’t think I want to find out.
My foot hits something hard and I trip, palms crashing into the road. I hiss through my teeth, palms scraped, reopening the wounds. Rolling over, my mouth falls open in a scream, palms forgotten as I scrabble backwards.
A body lays unstaring at the sky with his skull cracked and broken. Dark blood matts his pale hair, stained in a puddle under his head. Revulsion hurtles up my throat and I twist, heaving and retching into the road. My body rocks with a shudder, nothing left in my stomach to produce. I wipe a shaking hand across my mouth. I can’t tear my eyes away. The boy looks around fifteen, pale skin riddled with acne, puppy fat still filling his cheeks.
“Help me up” I whimper. Drew hooks his hands under my armpits and lifts me from the floor, folding me in his arms while I shake. “He’s just a kid. Who could have done that to him?” I’m heartbroken, my soul weeping for the boy I never knew.
“I don’t know but he hasn’t been dead long.” Drew squeezes me briefly then drop his arms and takes my hand in his. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”
We break into a jog, street after street passing by, shops left unsearched because the threat of what lurks around every corner is too strong to ignore. Every time I close my eyes I see the boy, his head cracked open like an egg, eyes glazed and empty. It wasn’t an infected that did that. He wouldn’t have had a head left if it was.
We turn a corner and I’m yanked off my feet, back slamming into a wall. Drew curses in my ear. Startled I bend to see his face, eyebrows raised in question. Pressing a finger to his lips he points behind me. Gulping hard I shift to the end of the building and peek around the corner to the end of the street.
A gang of around twenty men walk casually down the street, laughing and jeering as a woman sprints ahead of them. Tears carve tracks down her cheeks, her clothes bloodied and torn. She stumbles and crashes to the floor, fumbling on bloody feet as she claws at the ground to drag her shaking body forwards. The group close in and a man steps forward. A scream pierces the air at the crack of his foot connecting with her ribs. Tears roll down my cheeks as she pleads and begs for her life, the men laughing at her broken form at their feet.
“You’re no use to us anymore. Whore.” The man spits, his foot connecting with her ribs once more and sending her sprawling. She curls in on herself, sobbing as she gasps for air. A gunshot ceases her whimpering and Drew slams a hand over my mouth, muffling my scream as pulls me back from the edge. Shock widens my terrified gaze. I’ve seen death, more times than I can count but this… this is murder. Mindless slaughter for nothing more than simple entertainment. They’re evil. Laughter fills the emptiness left behind by her death and my body shakes with a mixture of fear and anger.
“Come on boys. Fun’s over.” The men laugh, their footsteps moving away from our hiding place. We stay frozen until the sound of their crowing has all but disappeared. Drew drops his hand, lifting it to run through his hair as he stares down into my melancholy expression. Overwhelming sadness washes through me and I turn, not wanting to look but needing to see for myself the horror that has become of humanity.
“Lou don’t…” Drew calls after me but I’m already crossing the street to where she lays. Her eyes are open and staring at nothing, blood dripping from a hole in her forehead. Dropping to my knees I gently smooth the hair from her face, pushing her eyelids closed. She was young, not much older than me, her form bloody and emaciated. This woman had suffered abuse like nothing I’ve ever see. Every inch of her skin is mottled with bruises and dried blood. My heart weeps for her and what she must have endured. At least now, her pain is over. Drew casts a shadow across us, hand resting on my shoulder. I cover it with my own. We stay like that for several moments, paying our respects to the woman who before all this had a life, a family, dreams that she would never fulfil. The injustice of it all seizes my insides, tying my stomach in knots I believe will take me a lifetime to untangle.
Eventually I rise and walk away. I can’t do anything for her now but remember her.
Rather than take the main road we wind our way through back streets, weaving in and out of gardens and shadows, not wanting to meet the group that slaughters and tortures people for sport. The sooner we escape Milton Keynes the better.
We reach an intersection. Its wide, exposed. Exchanging worried glances we step out, Drew’s hand wrapped around my arm as we run. We don’t even make it half way across the road when a bullet whizzes past my head, lifting my hair as it rushes by. We freeze. Head snapping to the right I spot them. The men are watching us with sneers curling their lips, eyes blazing with anticipation of the hunt. I turn, see more of them heading up the road as they surround us.
The man I saw shoot that woman steps forwards, rifle resting casually against his shoulder. He’s large with thick locks of dark hair, leather jacket pulled taut over broad shoulders. Thick brows dip over his eyes, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
“What do we have here? Ah-ah…” he wiggles his finger as Drew takes a step. “One more step and I’ll blow off your head pretty boy.” Drew stops, fingers digging painfully into the flesh of my arm. My head pounds, muscles aching with the need to run, to escape. “This is my town and we don’t take kindly to trespassers do we boys?” The circle of men around us hiss and heckle, spitting at the ground and baring their teeth. I swallow, pushing closer to Drew. “Well isn’t that cute. She thinks he can protect her.” Another laugh.
“What do you think Bomber? Think she tastes as good as she looks?” a weasel of a guy with straggly blonde hair gropes at his crotch, licking his lips as he sneers.
Bomber grins, dark hair flopping over his forehead as he studies me. I think I’m going to be sick.
“We don’t want any trouble.” Drew stares down Bomber, his gaze holding firm even as he trembles beside me. He’s not scared for himself. He’s scared for me. That I will suffer the same fate as the poor woman they left lying in the road.
Bomber grins, stepping towards us, tilting his head in mock understanding. “I don’t imagine you do but as soon as you stepped foot in my town, you were asking for trouble to find you. Now…” another step. “I’m a fair man. How about I give you a head start…” When we don’t move his eyebrows raise, sickening grin stretching his lips. “
Run.”
Drew yanks me forwards, dragging me behind him as he barrels down the street, hoots and whistle chasing after us. I find my footing, wrench my hand from his grip and run as fast as my legs will allow. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, flooding my limbs and forcing me onward. A bullet whips past my head and I duck, boots skidding in the dirt as I lurch to the right, throwing myself between two buildings. Drew is right behind me, hands shoving at my back.
We burst out into another street, hear their boots slamming into the ground behind us as they close in. Drew overtakes me, slamming his shoulder into a door and taking it down with ease. I follow, jumping an overturned chair and race through to the kitchen, throwing myself out the back door and into the garden.
We weave in and out of gardens, keeping one step ahead but only just as bullets embed into fences, shattering brick above our heads. I tell myself they have to run out of bullets soon but who knows how much ammunition they’ve collected over two years. They could hunt us like this for days, never tiring, taking it in turns.
Drew grabs my arm and drags me inside a garage, pulling the rolling door down. I hunch over, hands on knees and try to catch my breath. Trying to suck in lungfuls of air that doesn’t quench my thirst for oxygen. Drew slumps to the floor, pushing his sweaty hair back from his head, eyes tight as the strain of breathing pinches his face.
“We can’t run from them forever” I gasp. “There’s too many of them.”
Drew only nods, head hanging, chest heaving.
Straightening I look around. The garage is empty. Stripped of anything useful, whether by the previous owners or those hooligans I don’t know. A small window, grimy with age, the only light source. With our reprieve likely to be brief, I shrug my pack from my shoulders, pull out two bottles of water. I throw one to Drew who smiles with gratitude, chugging half its contents without taking a breath. I do the same, pouring a little over my head to wash the sweat from my eyes.
The Infected Page 4