Two more lunged forwards and managed to grasp Sebastian’s arm. He retreated and stumbled over the large man he had killed first. From within the shop Collins gasped in fear for the stranger without really knowing why. Maybe she already felt some inexplicable connection with him, or perhaps she just saw the two strangers as their salvation.
Sebastian went down on one knee. He felt the throng press forwards. For a moment he could foresee them falling on top of him and making it impossible to escape. Another darted around the side with a strange, blood thirsty gurgle, sensing the opening, but Flavia reacted much faster - faster even than Sebastian. With stunning speed she yanked the man by the neck backwards off his feet and tossed him behind her with an air of utter disdain. Then she leapt at the two who had grasped Sebastian’s arm.
Both of them were on top of him, thrashing and snapping as he held their combined weight with one arm, his other hand momentarily steadying himself on the ground. Flavia braced herself and then reached for them, hauling them both off their feet in a massively impressive display of force. She swung around and then released them with a righteous scream, sending them tumbling back into the melee, buying a moment of breathing space.
She turned back to Sebastian, grabbed him by the hand and hauled him to his feet. “Get up you pussy, this is no time to rest.”
He could see there was a glint in her eye. Her chest heaved beneath the scant corset and he was sure she was enjoying herself. Then she twirled about to fight with a hiss of pure aggression. He observed her for the briefest of moments. He was undoubtedly stronger than she, but there was an effortless grace to her movements. She had an efficiency that made her absolutely lethal and awe-inspiring yet elegant and beautiful to watch. The way she pirouetted from one victim to another without pause was truly impressive. The slightest flicker of a smile traced across his lips as he too returned to the fray.
From within the shop Collins stood quite still and silent. She was awestruck, finding it hard to believe what she was seeing. To her the two figures looked sort of like normal people, albeit tall and willowy, but their actions were more feline than human. The woman in particular fought with a poise and refinement, as though she was going through the motions of some cold, deadly dance, and the speed with which they both moved was absolutely breath-taking. They seemed to anticipate each other and acted accordingly, complementing and covering each other perfectly like paramours. To Collins the woman’s outfit only seemed to enhance the image of the performance, a gothic ballerina playing the part of an enraged killer in some truly macabre, apocalyptic ballet. She was mesmerized by the phenomenal display of agility and ruthlessness as attacker after attacker was felled.
Bannister too was rapt by the strange woman whose feminine figure and outfit seemed at odds with the master-class in dispatch that she was providing. He watched the creases of her tight leather trousers, the swing in the lace around her corset, the pout in her beautiful, red lips and the lightning glances in his direction, real or imagined, as she leapt like a mongoose playing in a den of vipers. For a moment the troubles of the last few minutes faded. The woman outside was everything.
He was revived from his contemplation by a groan from Samuels. He checked the man’s pulse and prised opened his eyes to see if there was any reaction to the light. Samuels moaned again and seemed to be coming to his senses, so Bannister, relieved that he was okay, returned to the scene outside.
“Who are they?” Collins breathed, captivated now by the tall man in black who moved with a little less poise but seemed equally capable and deadly, and held himself with a detached fearlessness. His was less the action of a dancer and more that of a boxer or martial artist, an economy of effort with huge power, using strength instead of subtlety.
“I don’t know but I’d sure like to find out,” Bannister murmured, absolutely spellbound now.
“You’re not thinking about actually going out there are you?”
Collins glanced at him in surprise that he could seem so relaxed at a time like this and then returned her gaze to the man outside who had just pounded the skull of an infected woman into the pavement. He leapt to his feet and glanced in their direction. For a moment she could see his light, hazel eyes searching inside the shop. She instinctively went to crouch down but he turned his attention back to more urgent matters such as killing and survival.
The woman at his side seemed to be taking great delight in the mêlée. She would leap high into the air and then come down hard on the back of an attacker, grinding them into the floor. She would then quickly finish them by smashing their heads on the concrete or pulling their necks forcefully back until the bones splintered. This move she typically finished off by violently twisting the head and pulling, which seemed to leave the skull hanging limply. A middle-aged man in a black suit came at her so she grabbed his arm and swung him around before releasing. The momentum that she had generated she then used to propel herself gracefully through the air and landed with a boot in the face of a young man, sending him to the floor. She paused hardly a moment on any one combatant before using the energy and impetus to strike at the next in a truly dazzling display of slaughter.
The fight had barely lasted a minute. In that time Walkden had tightened the second and third wheel bolts and was about to start on the fourth. Hutchison grabbed him under the arm and hauled him to his feet. “Right, that’ll do, into the car,” he yelled urgently. “We’re not going far, it’ll hold. Let’s go.”
Neale was already in the driver’s seat, revving the engine like a boy-racer at the traffic-lights in Southend-on-Sea. Even before Hutchison’s door closed he had popped the clutch and the wheels span. Hutchison had disconnected the trailer from the Land Rover. As they careered along the road he checked his gun and ordered Walkden to do the same. Walkden complied without saying anything. They rounded the final corner practically on two wheels and it was only then that Hutchison first realised that the sounds of gunfire had stopped. He could see the other Land Rover ahead by the petrol station and a load of bodies on the floor around it.
“Good lord, it’s bloody carnage!”
Bannister was already pulling at the barricade as the last of the infected was killed.
“Come on, help me,” he urged.
Collins hesitantly went to his assistance. As she bent down a shadow swept over her. She looked up and shuddered. Both of the strangers were standing at the broken window peering in with odd expressions on their faces, somewhere between euphoric recognition and the shyness of anxious children on their first day at a new school. She felt the male’s eyes fixed on her as she staggered back in shock, her knees nearly going from under her.
What happened next was a little unclear when she later tried to recall it, but one of the strangers pushed hard at the door which effortlessly seemed to shove the remaining display unit out of the way. Bannister sauntered forwards as though he was sleep-walking. Collins backed up nervously against the shop counter as the man entered. She vaguely noticed Bannister step close to the woman. After a moment of saying something to him, she seemed to enwrap him in an embrace.
The tall man advanced with long, purposeful strides. He stopped a yard away as she raised her pistol. He looked down at the gun and then fixed his eyes upon her and smiled. It was the most unexpected expression. After the battle that they had just witnessed with all that bloodshed, and the fact that she was pointing a gun at his head, a calm, friendly smile was the last thing she expected. But there it was, reassuring and intensely disarming.
“Do not be afraid.”
His words seemed to come from some deep, inner part of him like rumbling thunder in the distance. It felt as though she had imagined them as much as heard them. He held her stare and his eyes were hazel coloured although they seemed to flash an intimidating dark. When someone has a gun pointed at them their entire attention tends to concentrate solely upon it, a response known as ‘weapon focus’. Everything else at that moment pales into insignificance and for a short while the weapon
becomes the centre of that person’s world. Although it was she that held the Browning, that was exactly how Collins felt. Like tunnel vision, anything outside the man’s eyes and voice seemed irrelevant. She stared at him and was captivated. Only then did she notice that she had unconsciously lowered the gun. In surprise she was jerked out of her semi-trance and raised it again but this time a little less decisively.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he said with a smile and this time she held his gaze and lowered the gun deliberately.
“Who are you?” she whispered, entranced.
He opened his mouth to answer but never got the chance to speak.
There was the squeal of brakes from outside as the second Land Rover announced its arrival. The tall, pale woman called from outside.
“Sebastian.”
He turned to look, flashed one last, lingering smile at Collins and then leapt through the door.
Hutchison was already out of the vehicle and trained his gun on the two figures. “Stop!” he shouted, but they ignored him and ran to the building beside the petrol station. Hutchison dodged around the petrol pumps and corpses and followed them but by the time he reached the area they were already gone.
Like a rush of blood to the head after standing up too quickly, Collins felt dizzy and steadied herself with a hand on the counter. It was as though the world was returning to her senses in a giddy rush of colours and sounds with the beating of her heart thumping in her head. Only then did she notice Samuels was now awake, propped up against the shelf unit and staring curiously at her.
“Thank God you are okay.” She went to him, still unsteady on her feet. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Sorry for… for not being there to help out. Are you okay?”
She was not sure if there was extra emphasis on ‘you’, having witnessed her encounter with the strange man.
“I’m fine,” she said. Then to change the subject she continued in a flustered voice, “Bannister’s outside.”
“I know. I saw him.”
Hutchison entered the shop. He seemed to have assumed command and checked them all over to make sure no one was injured.
“Has anyone been bitten?” They both shook their heads dumbly. “Okay, all the infected outside are dead. Who the hell were those two people?”
Bannister drifted back into the shop and seemed to Collins as though he was still half asleep.
“I have no idea who they were,” she said, “but if they hadn’t arrived when they did we wouldn’t be standing here right now.” She looked at Bannister for support but his eyes were glazed over and he was not his normal talkative self. “Isn’t that right Bannister?” she prompted.
“Oh, yes, definitely. They came at a good time,” he said. Then as though coming back to reality he rounded angrily on Hutchison. “Where were you when we needed you?”
Hutchison glanced at Walkden who stood keeping guard. “Yeah, sorry, we ran into a little trouble of our own but nothing compared to what you faced here.”
They all turned to survey the scene outside, lost in contemplation and amazement. Bodies were scattered all around the forecourt with twisted, broken limbs and dark liquid oozing. It was a dreadful scene and quickly reminded them where they were.
Hutchison nervously walked to the door. “Let’s head back to base. We can debrief there.”
They got rapidly back into their Land Rovers. Collins inspected the building the strangers had climbed in their swift departure. It was a two storey shop with a sloping, tiled roof. It had windows on upper and lower levels but as far as she could see there was no obviously easy way to scale it, and yet they had gone up it in moments without any apparent difficulty. She could see no sign of them now however as the vehicles pulled away and headed back to Headley Court.
The drive did not take long, Hutchison quickly established radio contact with base and informed them briefly that they had encountered hostiles but nobody had been seriously injured. The voice of Masters replied. He told them he had copied the information and that he would pass it on to Group Captain Denny.
As they drove, Samuels spoke from the back seat in a hushed, shaken voice. He was pale with a trickle of blood on his temple.
“Guys, I’m really sorry, I screwed up back there. I guess I took a tumble. Thanks for saving my arse.”
Bannister was morose and even more curt than normal. “Just don’t do it again, idiot.”
Collins scowled at Bannister then looked back at Samuels. She was trembling, partly through shock and partly through adrenaline, but Bannister’s reply annoyed her. “Actually if you hadn’t given us covering fire and slowed them all down we may never have made it. You bought us some vital time so you didn’t screw up too badly.” She smiled reassuringly.
He still looked puzzled, as though something was bothering him. “When I came round all the infected were dead. Who were those other two?”
Collins and Bannister exchanged a glance. “I’m not sure who they were,” Collins answered, “but they single-handedly tore that crowd apart. They were unarmed and they went through the lot of them like a bunch of school kids.”
Samuels had not lost his frown. “They looked kinda odd, foreign or something and they dressed funny. And then I’m not sure I was quite with it yet, but from where I was lying it looked like she bit you Bannister.”
“What would you know?” Bannister rounded on him. “You were concussed, fool.”
“Well that’s how it looked to me too,” Collins said irritably. She stared hard at Bannister, waiting for an answer.
He was silent for a moment, brooding with an angry look on his face. “It all seems a little hazy,” he said eventually, without taking his eyes off the road. “I think I’m still a bit traumatised from the whole episode, but no, no she didn’t.”
Collins then noticed a small prick of blood on his neck, just above the collar. Just a single red mark but a tell-tale sign nevertheless, denouncing his lie. She reached over and rubbed it. “Blood! She did bite you.”
Bannister was getting more cross now and pulled his collar up to cover the mark. “I don’t know,” he said sullenly, “it seems really weird. I don’t know why I went to her. I guess I was going to thank her for saving our lives. Then she hugged me. Like I say, I was still in a state of shock but maybe she did, I’m not sure.” He became contemplative once more and this time the hush remained.
As they neared the base a sense of reality started to return and Collins’s thoughts went to Cujo. Her face creased and she buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with grief. Bannister looked briefly across at her but for once he was distracted and did not bother to use the occasion of her tears to put an arm around her shoulders or ingratiate himself towards her. At the moment he felt cold and emotionless. With his eyes resolutely fixed on the road in front, he drove back to the station, his mind full of his own troubled thoughts.
CHAPTER 10
Flavia was faster than Sebastian, faster than any of them, but she paused on a flat piece of roof, allowing him to catch up. Her eyes were glistening and flashing animatedly as the excitement from the encounter still coursed through her body. She reminded him of a champion thoroughbred that has just won its race, her sides heaving with exhilaration and exertion.
She turned to greet him with a broad grin as he approached. “Kinda reminds you you’re alive, huh? And they call us undead - pah!”
“Hmmm,” he was contemplative. “You enjoyed that?”
“Of course, what’s not to enjoy? Don’t tell me you didn’t. I could see it in your eyes - when you finally got into the spirit of it.”
“No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
He was annoyed now but more with himself than her and tried to keep it from his voice. Facing the distinct possibility of death, yet coming out victorious had undoubtedly given him a heightened sense of elation and an appreciation of life that was too often missing, especially in an existence as prolonged as theirs. He did not want
to admit to himself that he had enjoyed the experience but there was a certain, undeniable truth in what Flavia said.
“They are humans, or at least they were once,” he replied tersely. “I feel sorry for them and wish that had not been necessary.”
“That’s right, they were human once, but just like us they’re not any more. Their humanity is as far behind them as ours is behind us. And it was necessary - very. They would have torn you apart and eaten your flesh given half a chance. They’re now nothing more than animals acting on basic urges. They don’t feel pain, they don’t get frightened, all they do is follow their instincts and that instinct is to kill you and eat you. I suggest you follow their example and become a little more concerned about saving your own skin, rather than not hurting theirs. I may not be there to save you next time. That’s twice I’ve saved your arse. We wouldn’t want to lose such a fine body part would we now.” The look in her eyes was playful and mischievous but Sebastian could see there was a serious tinge to it. “Just remember that you owe me. Twice.”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.”
He always felt that she was more relaxed around him when Farzin was not there, but lately it seemed as though she was being a lot more flirtatious. The end of the world had brought many things to a head. Was she acting differently towards him, or was it just in his imagination? He was briefly taken back to a time, many years previously, but tried to focus on the present.
“So you actually enjoyed killing them?” he asked.
The Blood of the Infected (Book 1): Once Bitten, Twice Die Page 19