The Last Invasion (Isolation Z Book 4)

by Aline Riva

“Greg?”

  “It had to be you who wrecked my car!” he said, then he wrenched open the door and leaned in, freeing his seat belt.

  “Any pain? Can you move?”

  “I think I'm okay,” Christian replied, cautiously moving, then he got out of the car, pausing to lean against the open doorway for a brief moment.

  “I ache all over – that was a hard impact!”

  “And your fault!” Greg reminded him.

  ”Sorry!”

  “Is everyone okay?”

  Marc came running down the hillside, he had seen the cars collide and recognised the vehicles. He pulled up the hood of his rain proof coat and waited for cars to pass as drivers struggled in the heavy rain, then he dashed across to join Greg and Christian.

  “Looks like we're walking home,” he remarked.

  “I'm too far away... I won't make it in this storm. I need to seek shelter,” Christian replied.

  “Guys, before we do anything you need to know Alex was talking about being kidnapped at sea, tortured by a guy who has a ship, who wanted to know about Circus! I know Alex isn't stable mentally right now, but he has injuries that would be consistent with torture. I warned John -”

  “Not now, Greg!” Marc told him as he stood beside Christian in the teeming rain, their hair and clothing soaked in the downpour, “It's probably all in Casper's head but if it's not, right now we have to worry about getting home. The whole of security is combing the town for Flint. I'm more concerned if he's not as harmless as we think, he could be on his way to pay us a visit. Let's just go home and worry about invasion threats another time – that kind of stuff needs planning. It won't be tonight.”

  Then the three men stuck close to the shelter of the shops and arcades where awnings fluttered, giving little protection against the wind and driving rain, as thunder cracked again, they made their way quickly in the direction of the houses that stood overlooking the sea, as Christian stuck close to Greg and Marc, thankful to know that shelter was not far off. He still ached all over from the collision. The rain carried on falling hard as above thunder rumbled on and the heavy clouds became as one with the darkening night sky.

  On board the Apocalypse Queen, the crew had watched as two fishing boats fought against rough seas, they were a distance apart but sharing a giant net, in that net was the horde released from the cargo area. The undead moaned and snarled, dead hands reaching up grasping in vain at wind and water as they tried and failed to climb over each other as the zombies sunk beneath the water, their roars heard only by the sea below surface as the boats headed out in the direction of Circus Town.

  Then as the boats escorted their hellish load towards shores, with the rough roll of the tide in their favour, Hazlewood had ordered everyone to the dining hall. As Serena took a seat beside him she smiled, and he smiled at her, taking in the sight of her in a shimmering white gown. Her hair was piled high and decorated with sparkling crystal adornments that matched the shine of her dress. She had just returned from the kitchen. Even the staff who had served the meal were now seated at their table. Everyone was present except for Cora, the needle torturer who had put Alex through agony to betray the town, she was waiting back in her cabin, because Serena had lied, asking her to remain behind, because she claimed had a task for her to perform later at the captain's request – a suspected traitor was about to be unmasked, and would be brought straight to the cells to await her attentions.

  As he stood to make a speech, Hazlewood smiled at the rough band of passengers and crew he had gathered together.

  “As I speak, the boats are dragging the horde inland. By morning, we invade Circus Town. We shoot the creatures, we stack the bodies and burn them and we move in. They won't be expecting this horde tonight, but the tide and the storm are in our favour. Circus Town is ours!”

  The room erupted into cheers and whistles and then Hazlewood held up his hand, demanding silence.

  “Now a toast,” he added, raising his glass as all at the tables raised theirs too, “To the future and to Circus – our new home!”

  Some repeated the words our new home, others simply drank down the wine greedily. Serena stood with the glass in her hand, raised it to her lips and then lowered it, drinking nothing. Hazlewood turned to her. She had that captivating look about her once again that filled him with fascination. Sounds of coughing had started, a glass smashed, there was a thump on a table. But his head was still turned as he coughed too, then asked a question:

  “What are you thinking when you look at me like that, Serena?”

  “I'm thinking,” she began as his face reddened and he began to choke, joining the other sounds of choking echoing through the dining hall, “That I want to kill you. I just did. You and everyone else... the food is full of rat poison and the wine contains cyanide. I wanted to be sure, you see.”

  As his eyes bulged and he grabbed at his throat and choked again, he crashed down face first against a table that ran with blood where others had fallen. Serena looked about the room as the last of the poisoned guests at dinner coughed, gasped and then fell hard. Some bodies were on top of one another, in messy heaps on the floor. Others had hit tables, some had landed on their drinking glasses, spearing eyes or stabbing throats. The room was silent now. This was a ship of the dead.

  Serena left the table, stepping over bodies as she made her way out of the dining hall. She went along a corridor, then down a flight of steps, then lifted the axe from its hiding place. It would make a fine weapon against the undead if she had to fight her way through a horde to find Antonio. But before she left, she had one last monster to dispatch – Cora, the woman who had put Alex through hell. She walked along the corridor, heading for her room as the axe hung comfortably in her grip. As she walked, Serena reflected on how Hazlewood really shouldn't have had such a passion for collecting poison, or for trying to enslave a stranger and then truly believing that she cared for him...

  Close to the shallow waters leading to the shore, the nets had been cut. The tide lashed at the horde as it slammed into it, sending it on a violent wave towards shore. But as the boats were tossed about on the storm, the last of the creatures freed from the net began to carry back as others carried forward. Both boats were now stuck in a sea of undead, and soon dead hands were reaching for the storm lashed vessels as shots rang out in vain. The creatures boarded both boats, staggering onward, undeterred by bullets as one by one, the men who had delivered the deadly cargo were torn apart. The waves rolled and crashed, over turning one boat, sending the creatures and their dead prey into the sea, the second boat was hit by a wave that smashed battling, bitten men into the water along with the undead attackers. As another wave smashed in, all were carried towards the shore as over head lighting forked violently, lighting up a scene that could have been a snapshot from hell as the zombie filled waters rolled and pounded towards the shore line, the rain lashed sea was churning the undead towards the beach, the unguarded, open beach on the shore of Circus Town. The invasion had begun...

  Chapter 8: Invaded

  As heavy lighting struck, there was a boom and lights went out across the strip of land that covered the hotel to the houses facing seaward, as the lamplight flickered in the office and John looked up sharply.

  “Sir,” a guard called, opening up the door as outside howling wind and driving rain brought with it a crack of thunder overhead, “Storm's taken out a main generator... half the buildings from here to the other end of town will be in darkness!”

  “Have you found Flint?” he asked wearily.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then keep looking!” John fumed, “Maybe the storm didn't knock out the lights, do you get what I mean?”

  Thunder crashed again as the guard understood completely and wore a look of alarm.

  “Yes, sir!” he replied at once, then he left the caravan, closing the door behind him, as at once the sound of the storm was muffled.

  Rain battered the caravan windows. John looked out at the darkened fairgro
und. Beyond it, he saw buildings lit up by lightning as they sat in darkness.

  “What's your game, Flint?” he murmured, then as he sat at his desk he checked his gun as he reasoned that Flint was just as likely to come for him as he might go after Greg, if he was behind this chaos, the motive was revenge - and he was ready to take aim if Flint suddenly burst through the door...

  On the beach, the dead were rising from the sea. The first to be washed ashore were staggering in the shallows, rising up covered in sea weed and struggling against the tide as it washed them forward then ripped them back, they stumbled into one another, teeth bared, snarling, lashing out as they fought against the violent waters to reach the sand. Now the first invaders were waist length in wild water, thrown forward, grasping as dead hands reached from the sea, only to grab in vain at water or the decaying flesh of other creatures as they crowded in, fighting the churn of the waves. The sea was full of moaning, screeching and snarling as the dead fought to reach land, where the smell of the living was driving them into a frenzy.

  A few made it to land before the next wave crashed. They staggered to the shore, roaring as the sound was lost on the howl of the wind as they lumbered upward, heading for the sea wall.

  As the three men ran through the rain as lightning lit the skies, home was in sight for Greg and Marc. Christian struggled to catch up with them, he was still aching all over from the collision on the road. As they went up the path and Greg pulled out his door key, Cleo opened the door wide, ushering the three drenched men inside. She closed the door, needing both hands to push it shut as the wind howled and rain escaped in, then she locked the door behind them.

  “It's a night from hell out there!” she exclaimed.

  “Why are the lights off?” Marc asked.

  “One of the generators must have packed up,” Greg guessed, glancing around and noticing the soft candle glow that now came from the front room.

  “I guess we're in the dark all night, but I'm home now, love,” Greg said to Cleo, taking off his wet coat, hanging it up and then kissing her cheek.

  “Where's Vicki?” asked Marc.

  “Upstairs. She's okay, I've been keeping an eye on her.”

  Marc said nothing in reply, just hurried off up the stairs still in his wet rain coat.

  A huge flash of lightning lit up the world outside, reflecting through the frosted glass set into the front door.

  “Yay!” they heard Zodiac cheer from upstairs as he watched the raging storm.

  “I had a crash on the way back,” Greg told Cleo, “I hit Christian's car. We're both okay but the cars are wrecked.”

  “Could I sit down and rest for a while, I also need to get dry?” Christian said as he shivered. He looked pale and shaken.

  “Go upstairs and get dried off, borrow a bathrobe,” she told him, “I'll put the kettle on - you all need a hot drink.”

  Christian thanked her and went up the stairs. As he left, Cleo turned for the candlelit kitchen to set the kettle on the emergency camping stove, but Greg grabbed her arm and as she turned back, he spoke in a low voice.

  “Are you wearing a gun under that shirt of mine?”

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he replied, “Because I think there's a strong chance Flint could show up here. If he does, even if he seems harmless – shoot him. He's not harmless, he can't be. If his memory was really gone, he would have stayed put, he wouldn't have gone off the way he did, no one can find him, Cleo! That means he's hiding for a reason!”

  “I think you're right,” she replied, “And I'm scared.”

  Greg looked into her eyes, his gaze reflected love and the same fierce protectiveness she had first seen back in the days when he had saved her from Flint's clutches.

  “You don't have to be scared,” he promised her, “You've got me, I'd defend you and the kids with my life.”

  He hugged her tightly as she clung to him, as outside the storm raged on, bringing with it a threat no one could yet imagine.

  Far out at sea, Serena had left the dead crew in the dining hall and gone off in pursuit of Cora, deciding to hand out a very different revenge for all she had done to Alex. But on knocking on her door, then opening it, she found her cabin was empty. Then she had run along to the end of the corridor, her heart pounding as she realised she had an axe, just an axe, and Cora had either been one step ahead of her, and now most likely carried a gun, or she had simply left the cabin and gone elsewhere.

  The ship was silent aside from the bumps and thumps and creaks that sounded as it rocked unevenly, anchored just outside the storm but even here, the troubled waters churned as the rain fell and in the distance the storm raged. The ship listed and she staggered with it as it listed again then righted itself, then she turned a corner and a shot rang out, shattering a lightbulb above as she ducked back around the corner for cover.

  “I know they're all dead!” yelled Cora, “It's your turn next, Serena! I'm waiting for the boats to come back with the guys and this ship is ours, but I'm killing you first!”

  Serena's back was up against the wall as she breathed hard, listening, waiting as she wondered how close Cora had edged towards her. She hadn't thought about the boats that took the horde into the shallow waters... at least four men on each boat, all armed... they would be returning, unless the rough seas or the undead or both had claimed them... waters out in the eye of the storm now looked impossible to sail in such small boats.

  “Let's do a deal!” Serena called back, “You let me live, we'll go to Wolfsheer Island. It's a self sustaining community... my husband owns the whole place, I can show you where it is!”

  Suddenly her voice sounded much closer.

  “How about I put this gun to your head,” she said, placing the gun against her temple as she stepped out suddenly, “And pull the trigger?” Cora's eyes glinted darkly as her finger hovered on the trigger.

  Serena drew in a breath, freezing as for a moment all her strength was focussed on one last desperate movement. She knew it was a gamble and she had to act fast. Maybe Cora would pull the trigger, maybe she would not have time. She swung the axe in a blur, it sliced through Cora's neck, lopping her head from her shoulders as the axe embedded in the wall and blood spurted from her neck and her body twitched as her head hit the other wall, bounced off and rolled to a stop in the middle of the corridor. As the body slumped, the eyes rolled white as the severed head twitched, its lips moving, then it fell still. The ship listed, the head rolled again and thumped against a doorway.

  Serena looked down at the headless body, the gun was still in its hand, a finger slipped away from the trigger. She cautiously took the gun from the corpse, checked the weapon and then walked away from the bloody scene. Serena knew she would have to wait a few hours at least until the storm cleared before she could attempt escape by lifeboat. She certainly couldn't leave until daylight. The only living soul on board the Apocalypse Queen felt the ship list again and she staggered with it, then carefully made her way back to her cabin, to grab a bag. Now was the time to visit every place of significance on the ship and take what she could that might be of use to those back in Circus – assuming they had survived the attack. She kept Antonio in her thoughts, silently praying her husband now had Casper's message – if he did, the town would be ready for the invasion and were most likely already fighting back.

  As the storm raged on over Circus, the undead were slowly beating the tide as they fought closer to the shallows, tormented at the sight of the first creatures landed ahead of them who were scrambling to their feet as waves crashed and knocked them down and they clawed at the sand and each other to gain footing. Jaws snapped, hands grasped and scraped as the first of those who had risen to their feet began to climb for the sea wall. Now free of the waves, the wind and rain were no difficulty to the undead. They were about to reach the top and spill over into Circus through an open gateway.

  Back at the house, the rooms glowed softly by candle light. Marc had got changed into dry clothing, so h
ad Greg, and Christian was having a lie down in the spare room, still hurting all over from taking the worst of the impact from the smash on the road. Cleo took him some tea and left him to rest, then checked on Lula before reminding Zodiac not to shout and jump around when the lightning struck, because Christian had been in an accident and needed rest. Now Cleo sat in the front room with Greg as Marc sat with Vicki and the storm raged on outside.

  “At least we're safe in here,” Vicki said, oblivious to the fact that Flint was alive and on the loose.

  The others said nothing in reply as they exchanged a glance. Then Greg sipped his tea and leaned back against the softness of his favourite sofa.

  “All we have to do is stay put until the storm blows over,” he said, “It's not bad in here by candle light... I could get used to this.”

  Marc looked across the room at his best friend and laughed.

  “You could get used to anything, Greg!”

  “What can I say, I'm just adaptable, I never used to be, but the apocalypse has done wonders for me!”

  Marc laughed again as he shook his head.

  “You're unbelievable, Greg!”

  “Why?” he asked as he looked at him through the steam that rose from his mug of tea.

  “You're the only person I know who's had a better life because of the zombies! The old world died, you started again... became a new person. Look at you now, Doc Fitzroy, bite doctor, husband to Cleo and father of two great kids...”

  “And I have my best friend to thank for everything,” Greg reminded him warmly, “You were right about me not standing a chance in the beginning. You got me through those early days....” his smile faded as he thought about Marc's fragile health, “I can't imagine life without you.”

  “Don't get depressing,” Marc replied, “Please, not tonight with the storm and no power. At least wait till the lights go back on and we can talk about my demise in a more cheerful setting!”