'There's no way I am going out like Monty,' she hissed again and Dave felt hot tears start to streak his cheeks. 'This was your fucking fault anyway. There's no way I am taking the fall. No fucking way–'
Marge's hissing tone abruptly cut off and in its place came a geyser of vomited blood – his own, Dave suspected – that doused his face in a torrent of sticky, hot moisture.
The flood blinded him and for a second he could do nothing but listen to Marge choke and gurgle as a second torrent splashed across him, followed by a third, until it felt like his entire body was doused in blood. He could feel it trickle all sticky down the back of his collar and the smell was horrendous. All thick and coppery.
A wet tearing joined Marge's chokes and then, just when Dave thought he was going to drown in the hot flow, the grip on his shirt fell away and he collapsed back against the side of the shield, gasping and wiping at his face with his free hand, desperately trying to clear his sight; to get the vomited gunk away from his mouth.
When he could finally see, the sight of Marge convulsing in agony on the ground brought him grim satisfaction.
As well as confusion until he looked up behind her and saw Will. The boy stood, his jaw quivering with shock, his eyes wet with tears and the red-stained blade gripped tightly in his shaking hands.
'Ha HA–' Dave started to laugh in shock and relief until he looked beyond where the kid stood bawling and saw something that almost stopped his heart.
The shield flickered once. Then again a few seconds later. Then once more. And again. The interval between the flickers growing shorter and shorter.
Oh fuck no, Dave darted a glance at Marge. She convulsed again and rolled over, revealing the long rent of a tear that ran up the length of her back. Through the semi-desiccated flesh, Dave could see the glint of her spine.
He knew she wasn't going to last much longer.
And if she goes so does that shield...
FUCK!
The panic sent his eyes skittering around, scanning the interior of the bubble for the jar he'd dropped in the scuffle.
He saw it across the far side. Three metres or so away
'Will,' he gasped and immediately his eyes started watering. His voice came out all nasally and weak and ignited a throb in his head that nearly made him pass out. 'Will!' he tried again even though it hurt.
The words had zero effect on the kid. He just stayed frozen sobbing while he stared at the blade.
Dave gave up and instead hauled himself to his feet. He promptly screamed in agony as everything exploded into searing pain. He fought through it though and crawled forward after he immediately toppled to his knees. Scrabbling across the tarmac while the shield around him flickered rapidly.
Over and over in his head images played of the shield failing. The claws in the shadows employed different methods each time but the end result was always the same: him and the boy reduced to little more than shredded meat.
In reality the agonising trip across the bubble only took a second or two. Dave could have sworn it was a thousand times longer. He was slaughtered at least ten times in his mind's eye before he finally laid hands on the escaped jar. He grabbed it and raised his hands high over his head only realising at the last second that he was about to shatter both jars at his feet.
A further precious second was wasted while he squinted at the labels. His muddled brain had already lost track of which jar he'd held onto the whole time and which jar he'd just picked up.
'Will, come here.' Dave's voice went hoarse as the flickers from the surrounding shield sped up. Again there was no response from the boy. 'WILL!' Dave managed to roar just as Marge's feet started to beat out a frenetic tattoo on the ground. A tattoo that perfectly matched the one the surrounding shadows began to tap out on the decaying shield.
The boy turned and stared dumbly at Dave.
'COME HERE!' Dave roared again. The words felt like shattered glass on his injured throat.
With agonising slowness, the boy obeyed. He stumbled over to Dave's side, his eyes still glued to the bloodied knife in his hand. Dave gritted his teeth and tucked the bomb jar back into his pocket.
Come on, come on, come on, COME ON!
His thoughts turned panicked as in a split second the shield abruptly flashed out of existence, leaving them completely unprotected from the sea of waiting shadows.
Will was still a few steps away when the shield went down but Dave didn't dare wait a second longer than he had to.
He caught a brief glimpse of the shadows swarming in.
Had the momentary doubt: is this even going to work?
And then he hurled the jar into the ground with all his might.
And squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
A minute later when he still crouched waiting to be torn to shreds, Dave risked cracking his eyes.
He near collapsed to the ground in relief as he saw the new shield that surrounded them.
Though it didn't look quite as robust as Marge's, Dave didn't care. At least it was a barrier between him and the shadows and judging by the fact he could still see, it had momentarily bamboozled them as well. Not a single tap reached his ears as he moved over to Will who'd just managed to sneak inside the circumference of the new barrier.
One less step and he'd have been... Dave didn't allow himself to finish the thought.
'Will.' He tried to keep his croaky voice as gentle as possible. Though Will still jumped and whirled when Dave touched his shoulder.
Dave flinched back as the blade veered around and he briefly thought the kid was going to stab him too.
He didn't. Instead he stood sobbing, the red blade gripped in his hand, his large eyes fixed on Dave. The same look on his face as when he'd held out his injured hand. Fix it, fix it, fix it.
'Come on, Will.' Gently Dave eased the knife from the boy's grip and then breathed a sigh of relief when he finally held it in his own. 'Will, are you okay? Are you hurt?' Dave knelt in front of the boy, resisting the urge to pass out or vomit or do both. Will shook his head in response.
'Are... are... you... okay?' the kid managed to stammer out. 'You're... all....' He trailed off into more tears that left Dave momentarily confused until he remembered Marge vomiting on him. Fuck! Must look a treat. Dave wiped his brow and a whole mess of sticky residue came clear with it.
'I'm fine, Will,' Dave said thinking how untrue that statement was – it was all he could do to stop from breaking down and bawling just like the kid. 'I am okay but we need to move, Will, okay? Can you do that for me, Will? If we stay here the things will find us and I don't know how long the...' Dave trailed off as it dawned on him that his current conversation mightn't be the best way to calm the kid down. 'Will...' he tried again – stalled – then gave up. 'Will, come on.' he shook the kid. 'We have to go now. Right now.
'We have to run.'
26.
Dave was so tired it took three tries before he could coordinate enough to get the flame from his lighter to the tip of the cigarette in his mouth.
It was worth the effort though.
Sheer bliss flooded his body as he sucked the smoke deep into his lungs. So powerful that he swayed in place and almost collapsed on the spot, the sensation too much for his overtaxed system.
He exhaled and stared out across the darkness to where the faint glow from the fires still ignited the horizon.
He had no idea how long they’d been trudging along for. Long enough for the ache in his body to settle into an unending throb. He was pretty much moving on instinct now. Just putting one foot in front of the other and doing his best to stay upright. He had no idea if he was going in the right direction. He hoped so.
He held up the lighter to try and penetrate the blackness that grew thicker by the minute as the flames were left behind in his wake. The road markers that loomed out of the gloom were the only guide that he was still on the road.
Hopefully it was still the right road.
He hadn’t exactly paid the best attention
in the mad dash away from where Marge had been subsumed by the shadows.
Dave sucked down another lungful of smoke and blew it through his nose as a chuckle ripped from his lips.
Surprised I didn’t just sprint back into the river, he thought and then frowned, confused as to why he’d found that idea so amusing.
He looked down to the tarmac passing beneath his feet and then killed the lighter.
Without its glow he could barely even make out the kid’s form beside him. He stared at his silhouette for a moment then shrugged and returned to smoking. Not a word had passed between them since the altercation with Marge.
Dave had no idea what to say to break the silence.
Besides he had the babble of voices inside his head to fill the void.
They had ramped up in volume since his stoush with Marge.
The chorus that told him it was all his fault.
Naomi saying if he'd just not had that pint.
Monty, sarcastic, saying: I bet you're glad you hit me now, aren't you?
The Gallo's there too. We wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for you.
Sally echoing their sentiment.
Brendan Toohey. I had my brains battered into the carpet because of you.
Even Marge had joined the fray. Her sarcastic tone loud and at the forefront. Was it that fucking difficult?
The only voice overriding that was his own. The inner voice that cut across all the others.
I should have killed the kid. I should have just fucking killed the kid.
As he stumbled forward, sucking at his smoke, he pictured how it might have been. Compared to the torment he'd faced since, he imagined it would have almost been simple.
He would have assumed Monty's mantle. He would have made it back from Hent and won Naomi over. And then something akin to bliss would have occurred. Naomi and him and a couple of little ones. He would've sold up and got out of the rat race, moved up to the bush. Found some sort of job. Who knows what with all the redevelopment that had been happening. Not a huge earner but enough to keep them comfortable. A nice place to live. Maybe even done Monty's place up a little...
And, sure, occasionally there'd be the unpleasant task but the bliss would surely outweigh it. Surely... At any rate it couldn't be worse than the situation he currently found himself in. Wandering through the alien landscape of death and darkness with nothing but some magic shield he didn't understand to protect him.
Surely a little pain would be balanced by all the rest.
You know it wouldn't be like that. Naomi's whine reared up and the fantasy popped like a balloon, twisting into a death spiral of images. Him in the bluestone room, over and over. Slicing one throat then the next. The piles of decaying children growing all around him until he snapped just like Monty had.
He tried a different tack.
It was a mistake. Real tears started to streak down his cheeks and his frame shook with sobs as he imagined what might have happened if he hadn't stayed for that one last pint with Timbo prior to the Hent trip. The blissful peace there might have been. If it hadn't been for that fight with Naomi he never would have found himself at the Gallo's Hotel alone and, although he didn't kid himself that Monty wouldn't have just chosen someone else in his absence, at least then he'd have blissful ignorance. He would've just been one of the casualties pulped beneath the shadowed Earth. Not caught up in the ridiculous situation he was in now. Trudging onward even though he didn't really know why. Even though he had no idea what he was to do once they reached their destination.
If he hadn't been at the Gallo's Hotel he'd have permission to lie down where he was and die.
Because then he wouldn't have been responsible.
And he wouldn't know that there was a small chance he could fix things.
That was the only thing driving him forward at the moment.
The fool's hope that he could set things right.
It was looking unlikelier by the second. Especially since Marge's demise.
But she had mentioned that there were others.
Dave clung to that now.
It's like a beacon, Marge had said. Like a Chernobyl in our minds.
Surely if I plug that, Dave thought, surely then the others will realise and come and fix the rest...
The others...
Dave's sobs doubled as Naomi's voice berated him again.
Pathetic! That's it, pin all your fucking hopes on someone else saving the day. Never mind it was your fucking fault to begin with.
'Why are you crying?' Will asked softly as Dave drew in the last of his cigarette, flung it over his shoulder and immediately reached for another one.
Dave didn't answer, just choked back his sobs again while he tried to light up another cigarette.
'Are you sad because the lady's gone?' the kid pressed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just got scared.'
Dave finally got the cigarette lit and wheeled around to face the boy.
'It's fine...' He started strong and terse but as soon as he saw the tears welled in the boy's eyes his own voice cracked again. 'You did a good job.'
You owe him your life, Dave thought, can you really do this now?
They walked on as Dave pondered the question, sucked down the smoke and even though his dry and sore lungs screamed for relief, immediately lit up a new one. A cloud of smoke haze had already formed at the top of the dome but Dave paid it no attention whatsoever. Air quality was about the last thing on his mind.
None of this would've happened if you'd just fuckin' done it the first time, that was Marge's voice chirping up again.
But you said so yourself, Dave argued, you said these portals were popping up everywhere and that it was only a matter of...
He trailed off as he realised he was just arguing with himself.
Naomi's voice filled the void: it's all your fault.
His sobs continued as the two of them walked on through the increasing dark. Dave occasionally flicked the lighter on to ensure that they were on track but he still nearly missed the junction where he'd turned off to reach the Gallo's Hotel. The gloom had grown until it was almost impossible to see and it was only by chance that Dave sparked the lighter just as he passed and managed to catch a glimpse of the dirt road leading off from the tarmac in the clear space beneath the bubble. As he'd crept closer, the forest had gradually come into view. Or at least what remained of it. Most of the trees had been toppled and lay snaked across the ground in shadow-coated mounds. Only a few stragglers were still standing.
As he stared at the shadowy mess, the abrupt certainty that he couldn't do it overcame him. Dave nearly collapsed on the spot.
Just fucking lay down and die. Wait for the shield to fail and the shadows to sweep in. It's what you fucking deserve... It was hard to tell whose voice assailed him this time. It sounded like all of them shouted in unison.
He swayed in place, smoking away and stared at the darkness while tears flooded down his cheeks.
'I'm scared, Dave,' the kid sniffled through his own tears and Dave felt his sobs strengthen at the sound of his name exiting the kid's mouth. 'Can I... Can I hold your hand again.'
You're scared... Dave scoffed and gently shook his head, trying his best not to make eye contact. He didn’t answer the boy. Instead he shifted his gaze to the ground. After a second he saw the kid lower his hand out of the corner of his eye.
You have to do it, Monty said this time. The same supercilious tone he’d employed while trying to convince Dave to nab the kid from the skyscraper in the first place. Dave just wished the old man was here now with the spell that he'd used then to finally kick him into action.
What else am I going to do? It’s not like I can let him go anyway? Where would he go? And if I did, it would have all been for nothing…
Dave thought about that for a second.
Remembered the last time he’d been in this spot. It felt like decades ago now. Remembered the Gallos dead at the bar. Bruno’s brains scattered across the counter top w
hile his son writhed his last next to him on the floor.
They would have died for nothing. And everyone that came after them. All the stuff I saw on the news and read about in the papers. The slaughter. The fucking humiliation I saw in the skyscraper. All the fights and the bullying. The fucking lady in the toilet, whoring herself for a pack of sugar. All of it would have been for nothing. Toohey’s brains smeared across the carpet. The slaughter of the huddled survivors that followed. The soldier whose blood Monty stole to help us escape. All for naught. Monty’s death… Sally’s death… even fucking Marge’s death… wasted. The tears, the numbness, the exhaustion… all of it wasted effort...
...Take it even further back and every single one of the kids that Monty and Marge and the rest of them had killed to stop the invasion would have been killed for absolutely no reason…
‘Dave..?’ the kid asked again, choking his name through tears.
Dave didn’t wait for him to finish. He shifted his cigarette from his left hand to his right so he could hold it out to the kid.
‘Come on,’ he said as evenly as his tears would allow. ‘It’s going to be okay.’
27.
It was like walking through the scariest forest Dave had ever encountered.
With each step, dread, horror, disgust, shame, all of it fought an alternating battle inside him. Combined with the dark surroundings and the spiralling voices in his head, it left him feeling more than a little on edge.
The longer he walked, the more the idea that something would pounce at him out of the dark grew in power.
He couldn't help feeling that the shadows were just luring him into some sort of trap. That he’d reach Monty’s shack and they’d tear him to shreds a few feet from the door. Dave had never heard the things communicate but he could still picture them out in the dark, saying, Ha, that shield? Shit, knew you were there the whole way. Just wanted to taunt you some. Let you get your hopes up a little.
His unease was not helped at all by the surroundings. First the dirt road ahead had been reduced to a crisscross of felled trees that he’d had to clamber through for a good fifteen minutes. Then once he’d moved beyond that they had been abruptly nothing at all. A pure void that he’d been walking through for five minutes without even the vaguest guide, until a strange humming noise had gradually grown in strength around him and, in lieu of any other stimuli, he'd decided to follow it. He had no real evidence that he was correct but he assumed the noise must be coming from Monty’s old shack.
Should Have Killed The Kid Page 26