The Alpha Plague (Book 1)

by Michael Robertson

  Each swing connected. “Are you sure they can’t swim?” Rhys called over his shoulder, and then swung for another one of the diseased.

  “No.”

  “What?” Rhys took another one down.

  “I said no. I’m not sure. It’s just what I was told.”

  “Fuck.” Another one fell beneath the water. “Why didn’t you say?”

  The effort of rowing delayed Vicky’s reply. “Because it wouldn’t have made any difference; we had to get in the boat. We had no other choice.”

  Yet another downed diseased, and Rhys wound back for another swing. However, as the gap between the boat and the shoreline increased, the diseased started to sink. They continued to rush forward, but they hit the point where the water level had risen to their neck and they went under.

  They flailed their arms and gasped as their heads disappeared beneath the surface, but they never came back up again.

  Diseased after diseased ran to their violent end and Rhys watched them, his bat still ready to swing.

  In the space of about thirty seconds, what could have been tens—maybe even a hundred—of the stupid bastards had vanished.

  The rest finally stopped. They stood in the waist-deep water and watched Rhys and Vicky pull farther away from them. Still they reached out, they grasped at the air, they snapped their jaws, they screamed, but none of them advanced.

  It was the roof of the abandoned building and car park all over again. The gap between them may have been small, but for the diseased, it might as well have been a mile. They stood and stared. They growled and hissed. They directed their collective attention and hate at the pair on the boat, but they’d been immobilised by a few feet of water.

  While he fought to get his breath back, Rhys laughed. “They can’t swim, Vicky.” He turned to see her red-faced and panting. He laughed again. “They can’t swim.”

  Vicky peered over his shoulder at the diseased on the shore. With a weary sigh, she slumped forward and let the boat continue to drift away from the mob.

  Chapter Forty

  “Let me row,” Rhys said. “You’ve done enough already.”

  The boat drifted as Vicky looked up from her slumped position. “You sure?”

  A quick nod and Rhys shifted over to the side so they could swap places. As they moved around in the small boat, they brushed up against one another. When Rhys looked into Vicky’s eyes, the memory of their kiss flooded back and he could almost taste it again. Heat spread across his face, and he looked away.

  Once they’d switched sides, Rhys stared to row. With his back to their direction of travel, he now watched the diseased on the riverbank. More came over the top all the time. They shoved those at the front forward as they had on the towers. It pushed more of the horrible creatures into the water. They gasped and flailed for a few seconds before they sank out of sight. “I would have thought the diseased could survive underwater.”

  After a check over her shoulder, Vicky turned back to Rhys. “They’re not dead, just infected. They smell like they’re dead, but they need to breathe just like you or I. It seems that the virus takes away the control of their limbs, so they can’t swim. You’ve seen how the clumsy fuckers run. No wonder they can’t cope with the water.”

  “Thank god!” Rhys said. At least two hundred faces stared at him. They snapped their jaws and bit at the air as if it would give them a taste of their prey. “Imagine if those fuckers could get across the water too.”

  With clenched teeth, Rhys dug deep and pulled the oars against the resistance of the water. He then took his attention away from the diseased on the riverbank and looked at Vicky instead. “So that’s why this place is surrounded by a moat. I always wondered how it would stop people getting in, but it isn’t to prevent people getting in, is it? It’s about keeping the diseased contained. If it all went to shit, they could lock the place down, quarantine it, and keep the rest of the country safe. Blow the bridges, close the buildings off, and raise the drawbridge. Virus contained! Simple!”

  After she’d turned to look over her shoulder again, Vicky said, “You’re right, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It’s so damn obvious now. I bet when the virus made it to the final stages of testing, they watched The Alpha Tower night and day. With something so contagious, the risk of it getting out had to be high. Maybe they didn’t see a terrorist attack coming, but you can be damn sure someone was watching, ready to throw the city into lockdown when the diseased emerged.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing for Flynn, at least,” Rhys said. “The police barricade shows that the diseased failed to get across the water.”

  The slightest smile twitched on Vicky’s lips. It vanished after she’d looked at the city behind them again. “I’m just glad I’m not locked in one of those buildings.”

  Rhys looked at the now metal-encased towers that made up Summit City’s skyline. A deep sigh and he shook his head. “How the fuck will Dave get out?”

  ***

  The screams of the diseased and the wild splashing as those at the front drowned got quieter the farther Rhys and Vicky got away from them. Rhys focused on the oars as they beat a steady retreat against the water, and the diseased calls became no more than a background noise.

  When Vicky sat up straight, the wind tossed her hair. Rhys admired her for a second. When she looked back at him, his cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat. “I was… uh, I was worried about you, you know? Petrified, in fact, when I saw you run toward the florist’s. There was no way I could have left you. Ever.”

  Vicky smiled as she looked at him. Her hair still danced on the wind. She then leaned forward and put a hand on his knee.

  Rhys lifted the oars into the boat then held the back of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, his hand still dirty from the fall into the mud. He then resumed rowing.

  ***

  With only a quarter of their journey left, Vicky insisted they swap around again so she could row the last bit. Rhys protested at first but he gave in quickly. God knows the burning muscles in his back appreciated the rest.

  As Vicky ploughed on, Rhys removed the photo of Flynn and the lump of painted and varnished wood from his pocket. The water had gotten to both, although the image on the photo remained in good condition. When Rhys spoke, his voice trembled. “Flynn’s okay, isn’t he?”

  When Vicky didn’t respond, Rhys looked up. She stared at him with a soft gaze and tight lips. She didn’t know. How could she? Until they reached the other side, they couldn’t know anything.

  After the silence had hung between them for a few seconds, she said, “If the police barricade is anything to go by, I think he’ll be fine. They hadn’t been bitten.”

  With a weary sigh, Rhys put the photo back into his pocket. He stared past Vicky at the riverbank. Only time would tell.

  ***

  Just before they reached the other side of the river, Rhys said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I saw something strange when I was in the towers next to the florist.”

  “Stranger than an army of enraged lunatics wanting to bite your face off?”

  Rhys laughed. “Fair point. It was how they behaved. Up until that moment, I knew they communicated with one another, but I didn’t realise they felt empathy for each other too.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “They caught up with me at the top of the stairs and I hit the lead one in the face with a sledgehammer. He fell back into the others, who caught him and then held him to check he was okay. I didn’t think it was possible, but when they realised he wasn’t, it incensed them further. They wanted my blood more than before.”

  Vicky’s eyes widened. “That sounds petrifying.”

  “It wasn’t pretty. It makes me wonder what they’re capable of. Can they communicate beyond that strange hunting call we’ve heard? Will they evolve into something far more deadly than we can fight? I mean, if those things were even half-intelligent, we wouldn’t have got out of the city. What if they’re capable of b
etter organisation than they currently have? They’ll be unstoppable.”

  Another glance at the collection of diseased on the riverbank made Rhys shiver. The width of the river had given him comfort but now they’d reached the other side, the expanse of water seemed like a pitiful defence. Surely, the diseased would find a way across.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Still soaked from where he’d dragged the boat out on the other side of the river, Rhys plunged into the frigid water again. A couple of kicks and his tiptoes found the soft riverbed. He pushed forward and dragged the boat with him until he had a solid footing. It made it much easier to pull it to the shore.

  The bottom of the vessel bit into the soft mud. After another tug to be sure it was secure, Rhys held his hand out to Vicky. Not that she needed to, but she took it just the same. She held both baseball bats and the rope to tether the boat in her other hand.

  After Vicky had tied the boat up, the pair climbed the steep incline to the road.

  At the top, Rhys chewed on his bottom lip and looked both ways. “Where is everyone? This ain’t right.”

  “You’re telling me,” Vicky said.

  “I understand they may have quarantined the place, but no police?”

  Vicky walked past him in the direction of the control booth for the bridge.

  The sound of insatiable hunger rode across the river from the horde on the other side. The distance that separated them muted their enraged calls. With his nerves on edge, Rhys ignored the monsters and looked at the area that had been abandoned by the police. “Where have they gone?”

  Vicky didn’t answer him.

  The control booth could fit two people, but it would be a squeeze. Rhys decided to wait outside—better not invade Vicky’s personal space too much.

  Between checks over his shoulder and across the river, Rhys watched Vicky remove her card, slide it into the card reader, and tap away at the keyboard.

  The stillness closed in around Rhys, and his eyes stung from where he’d sweated into them all day. With his bat still raised, he looked and listened for signs of trouble.

  Aside from the cries from the other side of the river, he saw and heard nothing—not even birdsongs.

  When Vicky called out, Rhys jumped.

  “Rhys, look at this.”

  After one last check up and down the road, Rhys stepped into the booth. It felt like he’d entered a greenhouse. The large windows elevated the temperature to what felt like a thousand degrees. Rhys moved his elbows away from his body to let his armpits breathe, but it did little to stop the itch and then trickle of sweat that ran down his sides. The air held a stagnant funk of coffee and dirt. “How the fuck does anyone spend time in this place?”

  Instead of a response to his question, Vicky tapped the screen and brought up a countdown clock. It read six hours and twenty-three minutes.

  “What’s it for?” Rhys asked.

  “It’s how long that’s left before they incinerate the island.”

  “Incinerate?”

  Vicky nodded.

  “But what about all of the people not infected? What about all of those locked in the buildings? How will they get out?”

  A frown wrinkled Vicky’s brow. “I think those in power would argue that the needs of the many outnumber the needs of the few. They certainly have in the past.” She pointed out of the window. “Whatever happens, the virus can’t cross that river.”

  “What about Dave? What about Larissa? Sure, she’s a bitch, but she’s still the mother of my child. There must be a way to stop it?”

  “There is.”

  Her tone said it all. “I don’t want to hear what it is, do I?”

  Vicky shrugged, “The place to override it is in a small office in The Alpha Tower. The office itself is a nightmare to get into. It’s high security shit. To be honest, if someone can get in there, then they deserve to be saved.”

  Rhys scoffed. “They probably deserve to die more than anyone. They created the virus.”

  “It was only a select few in The Alpha Tower who were responsible for this mess.” There was an injured tone to her voice.

  “I’m sorry, Vicky, I didn’t mean—”

  She showed him the palm of her hand. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s just, if they have security clearance, the chances are they were one of the few responsible for this fucking mess.”

  The heat in the booth seemed to rise, and Rhys fanned himself with his shirt. “Anyway, I ain’t going back over that river for shit. I just want to get my son and get the fuck out of here.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Vicky said. “And six hours is plenty of time to get far enough away. Are you ready to go?”

  Rhys nodded.

  ***

  Rhys peered through the window of the squad car on the side of the road and laughed. “I don’t believe it, Vick. They left the keys in here.”

  When Rhys opened the door, heat rushed out of the car like it would a hot oven. It carried the smell of stale sweat and sugar. Rhys got in and started the engine. He then wound the window down and called to Vicky, “Come on then, slow coach.”

  “Me, slow? I’ve seen you run, remember?”

  Rhys didn’t respond as Vicky got into the passenger seat, slammed the door, scrunched her nose up at what he could only assume was the smell, and wound the window down.

  Rhys said, “Buckle up then.”

  Vicky rolled her eyes, “All right, Dad.”

  When the belt clicked into place, Rhys shoved the car into gear and sped off.

  ***

  As soon as they rounded the first corner, Rhys hit the brakes.

  Vicky leaned forward in her seat. “What the fuck?”

  Another police car sat on the side of the road on fire. The flames reached at least two metres into the air. The bodies of police officers littered the ground around it, all with their hands tied behind their backs, all with bullet holes through their foreheads.

  “They’re dead,” Rhys said.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Someone’s killed them.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “But who?”

  Although he didn’t look across at her, he could feel Vicky’s eyes on him. “It’s just a guess, but I would say it’s the same people responsible for releasing the virus in the first place.”

  “The East?”

  “I would assume so.”

  “But how did they get the guns to do it?”

  “Who knows,” Vicky said, “but they did, and they have, so there’s no point in dwelling on it.”

  A shake of his head, and Rhys pulled away.

  As he steered through the carnage, he crossed his chest as if he had a god to pray to. “I don’t know what the fuck’s happening, but we need to get to Flynn now.” Once he was through the mess, he put his foot down. The sharp acceleration threw him back in his seat as it kicked up loose stones from the road.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Rhys slowed the car down again. Just a few minutes had passed since they’d left the aftermath of the mass police execution. He felt Vicky look across at him but kept his focus on the side of the road.

  “What is it?” Vicky said.

  The words had abandoned him. Instead, Rhys pointed at a house across the street, and more specifically, its white garage door.

  Vicky drew a sharp breath and spoke as she exhaled. “Fuck.”

  As Rhys continued to look at the diagonal line of blood streaked up the garage door, he noticed the handprints next to it. They were subtle, but there nonetheless. He then looked at the driveway; the grey concrete was stained with yet more blood. His body and his voice shook as he said, “It’s got out of the city. We’ve got to hurry.” He revved the engine and spun away.

  “But how?” Vicky said as they tore along the road. “The police were blatantly killed with bullets, not by the diseased.”

  The engine screamed as Rhys pushed the car to its limit through the empty streets. Although he kept his eyes on t
he road, he caught the flashes of red on front doors, driveways, and even cars. Blood coated the large front window of what appeared to be the only shop in town. Claret pooled on the pavement outside.

  The tyres screeched as Rhys threw the car into the next bend, and he saw Vicky reach up and hold on to the handle above her head.

  “Maybe the terrorists set them loose,” Vicky said. “Killed the police and then let some out. They seem set on turning the virus against us.”

  Rhys’ pulse pounded in his head as he swerved through a tight chicane. He gnawed on his bottom lip and his knuckles hurt from where he gripped the steering wheel so hard.

  It didn’t matter how far or fast they went, the virus had a lead on them. Rhys glanced at the pavement and said, “There’s still blood on the streets, and we’re only about five minutes away from Flynn’s school.”

  Vicky didn’t respond, but even with the chaos that raged through his mind, Rhys heard her whimper.

  ***

  Before he’d even got to the school, Rhys’ stomach turned backflips. “What if they’re already there, Vicky? What if we’re too late?”

  “Let’s just get there first. We can’t do anything until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  The second he saw the school gates, Rhys’ chest constricted and the word came out as a wheeze. “No.”

  Vicky didn’t speak.

  Rhys skidded to a halt outside the school playground and stared through the bars. “No.” He punched the steering wheel. “No!”

  Pain, confusion, and anger stared back at him from the other side of the fence. Where there had once been joy as children played, there was now only torment and blood—lots of blood.

  Tears stung Rhys’ eyes and he shook his head. “We’re too late.” He gripped the steering wheel and shook it so hard the car rocked. “How has this fucking happened? My boy’s in there. How did the virus get out of the city?”