‘Sorry–‘ he started but was cut off.
‘Yeah, everything is coming to an end and not a single solitary person seems to care or want to do anything about it.’ The soldier studied the clipboard for a second. ‘And, Mr David Thomas, you make it a clean sweep. Enjoy your cigarettes.’
Dave stammered as he watched the soldier fish a second pack of cigarettes from her pocket and pop the top. For a brief second he nearly explained why he’d lied but the expression on the soldier’s face made him think that she probably wasn’t at her most receptive. Instead he kept silent, backed away and headed for the roof.
Excitement lingered despite how horrible he felt about misleading the soldier; the pack of cigarettes in his pocket the best thing to have happened to him in a very long time. He deliberately avoided looking at the kid as he headed for the foyer so he wouldn't have to break the tenuous happiness.
Though as he pushed through the glass doors, it started to ebb of its own accord while he thought a little more about what the soldier had been saying.
For the second time since that original news report, Dave felt like he could really use a drink.
15.
The smoke had thickened in the sky during his absence. Dave was pretty certain that night was falling but the plume made it difficult to be sure. The spotlights reflected from the smoke haze and the sky just seemed to glow a pale orange colour no matter which direction he looked.
The air rasped harsher than ever down Dave’s throat, not at all helped by the second cigarette in a row that he puffed. He was no longer used to so many cigarettes in close proximity.
Still, I probably don’t deserve to enjoy them, he thought even as he winced at how pathetic a sentiment it was. But that was the way his thoughts had headed as soon as he'd reached the roof top and found that the soldiers that had earlier been neglecting their duty had decided to abandon their posts altogether.
After a quick look around showed he was on his own, Dave had headed straight to the edge, lit up, leaned forward and let the self pity rush in.
Should I just top myself? Dave scanned the smouldering city around him, noting with vague interest that another building down toward the docklands had apparently toppled at some point during his absence. Climb up on the ledge here and take a swan dive?
'And what exactly is that going to achieve?'
When Monty's voice sounded behind him, Dave just assumed it was in his head again. He didn't bother looking back; continued to stare out across the vista of destruction he was responsible for.
'Where have you been?' he muttered, more to himself than anything. He was quite surprised when he got a response.
'There's no time for this. What part of they're coming did you not understand?' Monty's tired voice died out into a dry husky cough. That planted a seed of doubt in Dave's mind and he was on the verge of looking back when Monty recovered and barked. 'Look down, you dickhead,' before dropping into another coughing fit.
The cigarette dropped from Dave's lips and somersaulted down toward the ground when he craned forward and shock slackened his jaw. Seething around the base of the skyscraper, Dave's worst fear came to life. The black tide swamped the building in a flood. One by one they engulfed the spotlights, adding further to the swirling shadows.
The glinting within the darkness turned Dave's blood to ice water.
For a second Dave thought he might pass out and topple over the edge of the building. He swayed dizzily in place as he tried to process it. The shadows filling the street were like a whirlpool, trying to drag him down. Exhaustion wracked his body and it took every inch of his strength to push himself away, to topple to his knees back on the roof and stay there, breathing heavily.
Dave's mouth was open as he looked up and saw Monty standing before him. He didn't know whether to collapse in relief that the old man had returned or spring to his feet and attack him.
Then Dave looked closer and wondered if he was about to see the man drop dead before his eyes.
The old guy looked like shit. More haggard than ever, his glittering eyes bulging out of his skull as he stood hunched over. Streaks of red coated his face and darkened the fabric of his prison clothes.
But that wasn't the most alarming thing about his appearance.
Dave blinked in confusion, certain that it had become too much and the hallucinations had started to kick in. Monty flickered in and out of existence before his eyes and static lines and noise crackled throughout his image. As though he was the output of some antique projector that was in the middle of burning out.
'You need to leave NOW, Dave! There's no time to argue about it. It's now or never.' Even Monty's voice sounded like it was fading with every syllable.
'What's the point?' Dave's voice came out all high pitched; crackling with nervous energy as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the edge of the building. 'What the fuck do you expect me to do? Just fucking stroll through the middle of them?'
'That's why I'm here, now. COME ON!'
'Fuck that. And fuck you, I–'
'What? So you're just going to give up and doom everyone to fucking extinction? EXTINCTION, DAVE!'
'THIS IS NOT MY FAULT!'
'I NEVER FUCKING SAID IT WAS! WHAT THE FUCK IS TRYING GOING TO HURT? IF YOU'RE RIGHT YOU'LL BE DEAD SOON ENOUGH ANYWAY!' Monty's voice came back strong as he moved closer and roared in Dave's face.
His words didn't penetrate though and Dave just continued to slump against the wall. As tears of anger and frustration tracked down his cheeks, he blubbered away, 'It's not my fault. It's not my fault...' over and over under his breath.
'Such a friggin' waste of blood and magic,' Monty muttered under his breath then crouched down close, awkwardly lowering himself until Dave had no option but to lock eyes with him.
'GO!' Monty roared and in an instant, Dave's blubbering cut off. He couldn't quite explain what came over him. It hit far harder and faster than he would have ever thought possible and he was on his feet before he could even really think about it. Monty's word raced through his head. Compelling him forward.
He powered through the door back into the stairwell, his feet slapping double time as he hurtled down the stairs, flailing on every fourth or fifth stride as his legs continually threatened to go from under him.
He was puffed by the time he cleared the first rise. By the time he reached his own floor he was almost dizzy with exhaustion, hacking and wheezing, gasping for air and cursing every last cigarette he'd ever had. His legs felt like they were about to collapse at any second but he pushed forward anyway, slamming through into the foyer just as the first screams and gunshots started to echo up the stairwell. He slipped and slid, almost reeling into the pile of office furniture as Monty's words looped over and over: GO GO GO GO GO!
Dave wanted to ask Monty exactly what the hell he had done to him; exactly what he'd meant by a waste of blood and magic, but it was impossible with the loop driving him onwards.
Besides, he had no idea where Monty currently was.
Somewhere behind me? he wondered, slamming through the glass doors and then skidding into the nearest cubicle as his feet caught on the carpet. He didn't stop though, not even when he saw the various eyes peering around the sides of the cubicles at him. Heard the whispers and mutters start to build into one giant panicked chorus as more gunfire echoed through the building.
Even if Monty's voice hadn't been there to drive him on, there was always the image of the black swarm he'd seen engulfing the base of the building.
Others had cottoned on to that as well. As he ran for the kid's cubicle Dave could see them pressed to the glass, peering down for a better view. The panic rippled through the floor like an electrical current. It really felt like something changed in the air as he heard someone start screaming.
'SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!'
He skidded to a halt in front of the kid's cubicle and almost collapsed in relief when he saw that the boy was still in position, seated next to his mother, holding her hand.
His only concession to the surrounding panic: to stare about with even wider eyes.
The mother looked even worse than the last time he saw her. Something that looked like foamy drool trickled from her lips and down her chin. It should have made it easier but as Dave locked eyes with the kid, he started to panic when he realised he had no idea what he should do. Now he was in front of the boy, Monty's command had seemed to have lost some of its intensity and Dave momentarily stalled, jaw flapping uselessly as the others on the floor started to stream past, jostling him as they raced for the exit.
He stepped into the cubicle to avoid the human stream then froze again, eyes locked with the kid.
'Hey, little buddy, want to come with...' Dave finally held out a hand but his words died out as he realised the tone made him sound like a creepy child molester. 'Hi, I'm Dave, little guy, what's your name?' He tried again but the kid only replied with solemn silence. 'Well, how about–'
'Just fucking grab him,' Monty wheezed as he emerged from the human tide and a strange rumbling started to vibrate the floor beneath their feet. Instantly Dave felt the pulsing of the command in his head again but it was nowhere near as powerful as before and Dave did a pretty good job of ignoring it. He wondered if that had something to do with the fact Monty looked worse than ever. Even more hunched over and limping badly as he approached.
'I don't want to spook him,' Dave had to shout to be heard above the growing cacophony.
Monty muttered something in reply. Dave wasn't sure if he heard right but it sounded a lot like, 'For fuck's sake!'
More gunfire echoed through the building; this time a lot closer and Dave knelt down – a mistake he quickly realised as his legs nearly went from under him – and stretched out his hand.
'Come on, you need to come with me.' Dave tried to make his voice as nonthreatening as he could but it still sounded creepy. To him anyway. Fortunately the kid decided otherwise. After a long slow look around at the surrounding chaos, the boy gently placed his mother's hand back on her stomach and lumbered zombie-like to his feet.
He slowly headed for Dave who nodded encouragingly, fighting the urge to just grab the boy's arm and drag him off. The last thing he needed right now was for the kid to get scared and leg it.
'We really need to move.' Dave's own panic shot up several notches when he heard how shaky Monty's voice sounded. He was already knackered and didn't know how he was ever going to work up the energy for another sprint down the stairwell.
There's no way I can– he thought until, as the boy took his hand, he looked over to where Monty was staring and suddenly adrenaline flooded his body at the sight that greeted him. The shadows oozed across the windows on all sides, glinting away as they encased the floor in an inky black cocoon. Already the glass was starting to bow and crack and Dave knew it would only be a moment before they were through and on to him.
'FUCK!' Trying to calm the boy was forgotten. He latched onto the kid's arm and started running, yanking him along in his wake.
Sheer panic reduced the next few seconds to a blur as Dave's legs pumped. Dimly he was aware of slamming back through the doors, pushing his way past other screaming runners, but it wasn't until he slammed hard into the stairwell rail and felt the air whoosh out of his lungs while the crowd jostled him forward that Dave became aware of where he was heading.
He swayed forward, gasping for air while the throng squashed him against the metal bars. They dug deep into his ribs as he stared down the gap in the middle of the staircase. If he'd had any air left in him, he was certain he would have screamed.
Shadows swamped the bottom of the stairwell and were racing up fast. A fresh burst of gunfire and screams exploded through the stairwell, nearly deafening in the confined space. Sluggishly, the tide of the crowd started to shift. As Dave stared wide eyed at the advancing tide of shadows the crushing weight pressing him into the rail eased and he could finally suck in a mouthful of air as people started streaming back the way they'd come.
Somehow he'd managed to keep hold of the boy throughout and while people banged back through the doors of the stairwell, Dave dragged the boy in close, still gasping in joyous mouthfuls of air. He expected tears but the kid merely wore his usual confused and bewildered look. For all the change on the kid's face he might as well have been back in his cubicle, still perched next to his mother.
As more space cleared around them, Dave dropped to one knee in front of the kid. Something exploded and the shattering of glass seemed to resonate from all directions simultaneously.
'Are you alr–' Dave's eyes went wide and his question hung in the air as he saw what happened over the kid's shoulder and briefly his mind shut down.
As the door to the stairwell lazily swung, Dave could see how the crowd beyond it parted to either side of the marbled foyer. Dave immediately saw why. It happened in slow motion. The entire scene only witnessed in the few seconds it took the door to creak closed. But it seemed to last a full minute. The wonky circle of black skating across the marble foyer as the desperate crowd did it's utmost to clear its path.
A few did but they were too packed together for the streak to last. A shrieking lady feinted and tried to dodge around but it was too late. She crossed the black and there was the glint of something flashing and then her body exploded in a shower of blood, flesh and viscera. The chunky tide hitting the surrounding crowd, coating those nearest from head to toe in blood while Dave knelt staring, horrified and the few people remaining in the stairwell abruptly turned and stampeded for the lower level again even though there was only more of the same down below.
'This is good!' Dave didn't realise Monty was still with him. The old man spoke up from where he leaned against the railing, flicking glances from the approaching tide below to where the door lazily swung closed, sealing the slaughter from view – though it did little to hamper the screams that easily penetrated. They echoed around as Dave turned from what he'd just witnessed to gape at Monty instead.
'What?' he spat.
'There's magic in that blood. Power, David. Exactly what we need if we're going to get out of here.'
'WHAT!?' Dave bellowed it louder. 'WHAT THE HELL DOES... ohhh.' Dave's indignation fizzled into complete bafflement as he turned to confirm what he'd glimpsed out of the corner of his eye.
The blood flowed like a tide from under the crack at the bottom of the door, a raging torrent that didn't flood in every conceivable direction like Dave had expected. Instead it tapered as it flowed forward as though guided by invisible dams until it was a thin stream that zigzagged across the floor straight to where Monty was standing.
Dave's mouth gaped so wide his jaw started to cramp. He blinked twice but when he looked again it was still happening. As the blood rocketed toward Monty it abruptly leapt from the ground at the last possible second and splashed across his body where it seemed to be instantly absorbed. Even stranger was that, as more and more of the blood sprayed across Monty, his flickering image seemed to gain in strength, solidifying before Dave's very eyes.
'Yes this is very good. NOW MOVE!' Monty roared and Dave couldn't be certain but he even seemed a little less hunched as he spun to the door. Not that he looked particularly good; just not like he was about to keel over at any second.
Dave again felt the command resonate through his mind and on rubber legs he set off. Stumbling past the few stragglers who were seemingly unable to make up their minds on which destruction they wanted to meet first – instead they screamed and babbled, tore at their hair and took hesitating steps to and fro.
Halfway down the flight of stairs, Dave managed to fight the command enough to steal a look back. He timed it perfectly to catch the door to the stairwell exploding inward and when the streaming horde of shadows flooded forth, he almost tripped and fell at the sight. He stumbled down to the landing and looked back, squinting as a sudden glare burst from the flight above him. He blinked the black dots from his vision and was greeted by the surreal image of Monty in his blood spattered pri
son uniform, standing at the top of the flight of stairs, an outstretched hand radiating light that spread out before him. It formed a glowing nimbus that appeared to be holding back the flood of shadows. Dave watched for a fraction of a second, shaking his head as the shadows piled up around the glowing barrier and then he was off again, hurtling down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.
Sprinting down to where the gunfire and screaming echoed up seemed a good idea compared to what he'd just seen behind him. At least that's what Dave thought until he made it down another flight and saw the face pressed to the glass window on the door explode before his eyes, painting the entire panel red.
'Arrggh!' he screamed and tripped, dragging the kid down as he sprawled and started skidding down the stairs, the door blowing off its hinges in his wake, smacking into the far side of the stairwell, cracking the concrete as the shadows started to pour forth.
'NOOOO!" Dave started to scream louder but a moment later he felt a little ridiculous as Monty stepped down onto the landing and his other hand shot out, emitting a second glowing shield to supplement the first one. Dave struggled to his feet, his breath like hot knives in his side as he helped the kid up and they set off again, hobbling at the pain that flared in his ankle with each step.
'Keep moving,' Dave heard Monty roar and glanced back to see that although the shields appeared to block the shadows, they definitely allowed the blood to stream through. It hit Monty in a torrent and the glowing light grew brighter and brighter until Dave was forced to look away.
The smell was horrendous as a few more floors blurred by and Dave quickly found out why. He saw the landing completely covered in blood and gore while he was halfway down but momentum carried him onwards and his feet went slithering as they hit the slickened surface. He let go of the boy, his arms cart wheeling for balance as simultaneously his surrounds hit him full force. The glint of bones from amidst the piles of fleshy wreckage. The dripping meaty stalactites that hung from the roof and the underside of the stairs above. The contrast between the thick syrupy blood and the claggier mince that it was riddled with.
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