by Ian Woodhead
If that renegade army hadn’t turned up and if those people hadn’t been killed by the tunnel monsters, would that crowd of high flyers have stomped up into the upper levels in a few weeks time?
Hello, riff-raff. You’ve done a splendid job in getting things back up and running. Now we’re in charge. Was she being too cynical?
“Not cynical enough,” she muttered.
From what she’d witnessed, the sudden death of everyone over the age of forty hadn’t exactly brought the younger generation together in harmony. Amber froze as an inhuman shriek echoed down the maintenance shaft. Was one of those things in here with her?
Oh, Jesus. She strained her eyes, trying to see anything moving further down the shaft. This was just terrific, even if there was something there, it’s not as if she could outrun it, Amber couldn’t even turn around.
She took a couple of cautious steps; there was something ahead, an orange glow, but she didn’t think that it was anything malevolent. Not unless the monsters now had glowing eyes.
Encouraged by the fact that the blood-freezing scream hadn’t been repeated, she carried on crawling through the shaft. Amber quickened her pace; the urge to get out of here became ever more urgent.
That glow gained in intensity; she almost whooped with joy when it turned out to be an access panel, large enough to allow her to escape.
“Calm down, lass.” She muttered.
She wasn’t going anywhere if it was locked, considering the shaft narrowed a few metres past that panel.
Amber resisted the urge to wrench open the panel, at least for the moment, she wanted to see what was down there first. She peered through the slats, seeing nobody down there moving about, not that this piece of information was all that surprising. Amber gazed down into a laboratory but had no idea which one, the Institute had several. She wasn’t used to looking at the Institute from this perspective.
She didn’t even know which floor this was. Crawling through all those shafts had buggered up her sense of direction.
“Like it really bloody matters, lass?”
She pushed her fingers through the holes, gripped the metal and pulled. The grille came up easily, Amber should have been more prepared and not assuming the worst. She would have grinned in triumph if it hadn’t been for the fact that she’d just slammed the back of her head against the metal shaft. Amber pushed the grille out of the way and poked her head through the opening.
Now she knew where this was. Unbelievable, she’d come full circle. This was where Patsy worked. Amber was near enough back to where she initially started.
There was still nobody around, not that she expected to find a friendly face, but after what she’d just experienced, any face would be welcome, as long as the owner was still alive and human.
She dropped down and wandered along the narrow aisle, gazing into the rows of glass jars full of milky fluid. This laboratory shouldn’t be this empty. Could they have all gone? Amber stopped by a glass jar larger than her, what if the creatures had rampaged up here too? No, she ruled that thought out, she’d have heard gunfire whilst she was still crawling through that shaft.
If the rest of the Institute was as empty as this, she could be at the departure lounge in a few minutes.
“It’s about time that I had a piece of good luck.”
Amber turned and as an afterthought, tapped on the side of the glass.
“It’s not a fucking fish tank.” A familiar voice said, close to her ear. Amber yelped and tried to run.
“Oh no you don’t, bitch.”
She felt her head yanked back as a hand grabbed her hair.
“You ain’t getting away from me this time, snarled Jackson.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist and let go of her hair. “So, where’ve you been hiding?”
She kept her silence, determined not to allow his gorilla to antagonise her.
“To be honest, I thought that you’d be dead by now.”
Amber gazed defiantly into his piercing, blue eyes and kept her mouth shut tight. She braced herself for the inevitable sneering blast of insults, no doubt followed by a couple of slaps. Instead, he giggled like a naughty schoolboy. The sound was so unexpected that at first Amber thought she’d imagined it, until he did it again.
“I don’t think the fish likes you very much. Odd that, considering how much of a cold fish you are yourself.”
Jackson tapped three times on the glass; a stream of bubbles immediately rose to the surface. He then tapped two more times.
“It’s all in the sequence; you see, now it thinks it’s feeding time.”
Amber choked back a horrified scream when a mutilated face pressed up against the inside of the jar. Despite every cell in a body telling her to flee from this abomination, Amber stayed still and stared into the jar, she needed to know who it was.
His cheeks, chin, and forehead looked pitted, like a golf ball. Tufts of bright, green wisps of sponge covered the rest of the man’s face. The eyes then snapped open.
“Oh, Jesus!” she gasped. “It’s the Institute director!”
“So, the cat hasn’t got your tongue.”
“You evil bastard, what the hell have you done to him?
Jackson growled, his face contorted, Amber resisted the urge to shrink back as the man’s jolly facemask slipped to reveal the man’s true mind-set. “I didn’t do this,” he snapped back. “This wasn’t my fucking doing.”
He dragged her down the aisle, “It’s those scientists, they just can’t fucking help themselves. They aren’t happy unless they’re messing about with stuff. Experimenting, they call it. Bullshit, they’re like kids with new toys.”
Jackson suddenly stopped, turned and waved at the thing in the glass jar. “Those goggle-eyed goons have had their fun fucking about with test-tubes and Bunsen burners. It’s time to fly out of here.”
Amber tried to escape from his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He laughed. “Too fucking right you’re not, me and my men now have a bountiful supply of hot chicks. You’re superfluous to requirements. I’ve decided to fuck females that are a bit more pliant, a little more accommodating than a frigid bitch like you.”
He pulled her out into the open and toward a huge cage. “Don’t you worry though, love. I’ve found the perfect match for you.” Jackson pulled back the latch and opened the cage door. “Someone who’ll appreciate your fiery temper.”
Jackson threw her inside and locked the door, “Adios, bitch,” he shouted as he ran toward the laboratory door.
Amber pressed her face against the cold metal bars and watched him shut the door behind him. Something behind her shuffled towards her, something very big.
Chapter Eleven
The glare from the sun cut into his eyes like knives. Miles cried out, slammed his eyelids down and staggered back. When his heel slipped off the top step, Miles instinctively reached out with both hands.
He managed to grab the metal rail bolted to the wall.
“Fuck me” he uttered.
Miles turned, sat down on the top step and blinked the tears out of his eyes. How close had he been to tumbling down those fifty-six hard concrete steps? He knew there were fifty-six because he’d counted them on the way up.
“I’d have broken every bone in my body.”
Miles sighed; he brushed the dirt off his knees then looked over his shoulder. That spore cloud had just gone, leaving no trace.
The only clouds in the sky were the normal ones, white and fluffy. As he looked into that beautiful blue sky, it felt as though everything was back to normal. A couple of pigeons landed on the roof of a stone building across the street, then the illusion was shattered when the screaming began.
He jumped up, ran through the door and out into the bright sunlight but the noise was abruptly cut off before he managed to reach the edge of the building.
Miles skidded to a halt and slowly turned in a circle, drinking in the bizarre sights in this new and terrifying world
. The view took his breath away. Once again, the city bustled with life but none of it was human. He stepped towards the edge, crouched down and stared into the city. Those things were everywhere. Thousands of the smaller creatures swarmed across roads, pavements and pedestrian zones.
Peppered amongst the profusion of primary coloured nightmares were the behemoths. Miles only saw a few of them but as far as he was concerned, one was too many. After getting up close and personal to two of the things in that shop, he’d rather have a continent between him and them.
Each behemoth had a collection of creatures clustered around it, sliding over each other’s bodies whilst stroking its vast flank and long neck with their legs and mandibles. They reminded him of worker ants caressing their queen.
Several of the creatures stopped stroking the monstrous nightmare stationed opposite the city library and suddenly shot away in a tight group. They scuttled towards an abandoned double decker bus parked beside a sandwich shop. Three beetle-like creatures, painted in vivid red climbed through two broken windows on the lower floor.
Within seconds, a child’s terrified screams shattered the silence. Miles watched with horror as one of the creatures pulled a small girl out of the bus window. Miles turned away, unable to watch. Her screams were abruptly cut off; he could only hope that her death had been quick and painless.
Edger was right; those fuckers knew the location of every human in the area. They were using the smaller creatures to collect them.
“Like a general directing his troops.”
How long would it be before it was his turn to be collected? Miles glanced back at the door. It wouldn’t take them that long to get through that. After a few moments, he plucked up enough courage to look down into the street. Thankfully, there was no sign of that little girl.
None of the creatures stayed close to the bus, why should they. They’d uncovered their prize and were now heading back to the general, who no doubt had fresh instructions. Miles discovered that the huge monster had already selected their next target. The behemoth was staring directly at Miles
He jumped up and ran back towards the door. What the hell was he thinking of by trapping himself on this bloody roof? He grabbed the edge of the door and thanked the lord that none of the bastards could fly. At least none that he’d discovered, anyway. He opened the door wide, desperately ticking off what options he had left. He was sure that this building would have somewhere safe to hide, a cellar or strong room but what good would that be? Was he not supposed to be getting back to the Institute? Miles barked out a bitter laugh, some knight in shining armour he’d turned out to be.
Miles looked down those stairs and a pair of large orange eyes stared back up at him. Oh, fuck. It was that blue armoured bastard. It must have followed him. He fell back and slammed the door shut; it wouldn’t take it long to get through that, the door was only thin wood. The door shuddered.
“What the fuck do I do now?”
He pushed both feet against the door and looked around the roof. That kid had entered this building through that door so there must be a way off. The door shuddered again, he got the feeling that blue bastard had just been joined be his pal. Miles listened to them scratching at the wood; this wasn’t going to hold them for long. The only other object on here with him was an oil drum, on the other side of the roof. Miles gingerly removed his feet, stood up, and sprinted across. The drum was full to the brim with stinking water, there was no way that he’d be able to move that.
Behind the drum was a small pile of sweets; a Mars bar, two Twix’s and a Milky Way. Had he just stumbled upon Alistair’s secret horde? He saw a few more wrappers closer to the edge. Miles picked up the Mars bar and followed the trail. He laughed aloud when he saw the ladder.
“Of course! How else could he have gotten on here?”
The metal ladder led from the roof of this building, across a narrow alley and into the open window of an office block. Where Alistair had found it was beyond him. Miles imagined the lad lugging that bloody thing up a dozen flights of stairs and wondered why he’d gone to so much bother. The door behind him splintered and the question flew from his head. He yelped and climbed onto the ladder. It wobbled when Miles put his weight on it but he didn’t hesitate. He’d have rather plummeted to his death than have those filthy bastards consume him. Miles edged his way across, his ears attuned to the sound of those things scurrying towards him. What if some of those things were already inside that other building? He could be unwittingly crawling to his own doom.
“Shut the fuck up, Miles.” He muttered. “Isn’t your situation bad enough already?”
He reached the window and threw himself inside. Miles looked back and saw both of the creatures already on the ladder.
“This is for the little girl, you filthy bastards.”
He pushed the ladder off the windowsill. It and both creatures fell into the alley.
Two more of the things reached the edge of the building; they saw Miles staring at him and growled before turning back. He wondered what had happened to Alistair. Had they punished him for letting their prize escape or was the lad still sitting at that table, reading his books?
Miles sighed, too many questions. He turned around and took in his new surroundings, how long would he have before they cornered him again. His stomach growled, he’d dropped that Mar bar before climbing onto the ladder. Looks like he’d have to starve for a while longer.
This room reminded him of his old desk job back in Ipswich. Then again, he supposed the thousands of other office buildings scattered across the country would have given Miles similar nostalgic memories. They all seemed to follow the same generic pattern.
He padded past a mahogany coloured desk on his way to the open door then stopped. Miles gazed at the monitor sat on the desk, next to a black keyboard. Its previous owner had covered the edge of their monitor with stickers; he recognised a Dalek and the Tardis but none of the other pictures. At his old insurance company, none of the employees would have been able to deface company property like that. His boss, Martin, would have had a seizure if anyone had placed stackers over their monitor. Miles closed his eyes, remembering the occasion when his boss had bollocked Miles for bringing his Empire Strikes Back coffee cup to work.
“I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.” Whispered, Miles.
His boss had lost his job because of what Miles had done.
For weeks after the coffee cup incident, Martin had attempted to make Miles’s life as miserable as possible. He’d eventually found out that Martin believed that films with daft robots and spaceships belonged to the teenage and under population segment. Martin had made it his oath to rid Miles of this childish passion.
Just three weeks before the Wasting outbreak, Miles had broken into the man’s office and deliberately spilt a cup full of cold coffee over Martin’s desk. He’d ensured that a dozen folders belonging to the company’s most treasured clients were scattered over the desk before he knocked the cup over.
He remembered that intense surge of savage glee when he saw the old man’s face when he opened his office door the next day. He also remembered the terrible guilt that ate into him when he discovered that Martin had been sacked. The man only had a couple of years left before retirement. His whole life revolved around that company.
“How many people in my life have I let down?” he said, sniffing.
He pulled the stickers off the monitor, screwed them into a ball and threw them on the floor. Miles hurried out of the room before the place could trigger any more bad memories.
The room led out into the narrow corridor. He saw a reception counter at the end and opposite that was a vending machine, even from where he stood; Miles could see someone had broken into it.
“Could that be the source of Alistair’s food?”
He ran along the beige carpet, hoping to God that the lad hadn’t emptied the machine. Miles picked up a packet of crisps, stuffed them into his front pocket and grinned when he saw the huge pile of c
hocolate bars that had spilled onto the floor.
Miles tore the wrapping off a dairy milk bar and took a huge mouthful whilst wondering if there was a cold drinks machine somewhere around here. What he would do for a can of Coke.
“Or a bottle of beer,” he said, before biting off another chunk of chocolate.
He picked up a couple more chocolate bars, pulled out the crisps and shoved the bars into his pocket. Miles dropped the crisps back on the floor.
“Never much cared for salt and vinegar anyway.”
As he pushed through a set of fire doors and padded into a large conference room, his optimism rose a little. Despite their huge numbers, they were still only animals. Given time, a large number of the fuckers would probably be able to eat their way through the half a dozen doors that separated him from the streets, but by that time Miles could have escaped into another building.
He now saw how Alistair had been able to travel across the city and why he’d lugged those bloody ladder up those stairs. Most of the buildings were relatively secure; it was the on streets where the danger lay.
“And I threw the ladder away.”
He wandered over to a window a looked out. He saw none of the behemoths but he did see plenty of the smaller creatures clustered over a small white commercial van. Could there be someone trapped inside there? If that was the case then he hoped they were able to drive away and out of danger.
“And take them all with you so I can get away.”
He couldn’t see any of them on the street directly below. What chance did he have of running across the street and reaching the next building before any of them noticed? Miles figured that the chances were good that he could make it as long as the next building wasn’t locked up. It also seemed that it was the only choice he had left.