The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum

by Sharp, David H

  Amber screamed. ‘Daaaaaddyyyyyyy!’

  The high pitched screech made Michael the butcher turn his head, and that’s when Jake struck. Rolling across the floor he slammed into his attackers legs, and that toppled him over. His large knife skidded across the cellar floor into the darkness.

  The thud made the whole storeroom shake, and two candles fell from the wall onto the wet floor.

  Pip jumped up and down clapping with glee.

  Jake picked himself up off the damp floor and pounced onto the back of the butcher as he was slowly getting to his knees.

  He hit him with a short, hard jab to the side of the neck, and jammed the thumb on his other hand into the big man’s left eye.

  Michael the butcher let out a thunderous yell as the pain from the gouge hit his nervous system. He stood up, thrashing his arms about, but Jake clung on like a cowboy at a rodeo.

  Pip started shouting, and ran at the butcher, kicking him hard in the shins. It had little or no effect.

  Jake slammed another punch into the butcher’s ribs, and then clamped an arm around his fat neck. He started to squeeze.

  The big man tried with all his might to dislodge Jake, but to no avail. The more he fought, the more Jake squeezed and the more tired the butcher got.

  Again Jake jabbed his finger into the same eye socket, and this time Michael the butcher fell to one knee. Looking across to find his daughter, Jake couldn’t see her. Amber was now hiding in the shadows, petrified at what was taking place; she prayed for her daddy. Jake knew he needed to end it fast and find his little girl.

  Linking both hands to get more leverage, he squeezed even harder and twisted at the same time. The butcher keeled over with a groan. Jake wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but he wasn’t going to hang around to find out.

  Finding Amber in the dark he grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him. They both ran into the next room. He wasn’t sure if it was darkness or a trick of the light, but he had entered a place he hadn’t seen earlier. The whole cellar was like a maze.

  He doubled back but he got lost again, and was now faced with a big, brown, oak door. All Jake could think about was getting out before the big butcher regained conciseness and came after them.

  Laughing came from further down the tunnel, and they could hear Pip singing and clapping as if in celebration.

  Jake didn’t like this one bit. He looked down at Amber, who was now terrified. He pulled her closer to him, they both touched the oak.

  Should he open the big wooden door?

  He felt the cold steel of the large door latch, it was damp. He turned it to the right but nothing happened, so he turned it in the opposite direction. The door was released and it creaked as he slowly pushed it open.

  The smell was unbearable and Amber started to cough.

  Jake turned his daughters head into his body. Whatever was in this room, he didn’t want her to see it.

  He walked very slowly. Using his one free hand to feel his way, he waved it about in the darkness. He wanted to get through this room and out the other side as soon as possible. Jake’s hand touched something clammy; he withdrew it instantly, making Amber jump.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She tried to look.

  ‘Don’t look sweetheart.’ He held his daughters head firm.

  He went in a different direction, and could see a small bead of light across the room. Jake headed for it.

  His hands hit the wet door hard. He twisted the door handle back and forth, but the door wouldn’t open.

  ‘God damn it.’ Jake kicked the wood, but it still wouldn’t budge.

  Amber started to cry. ‘Daddy, I want to go home.’

  Home, where was home? Jake had no answer to that. ‘It won’t be long.’

  He booted the door once again. ‘Come on!’ He shouted, his voice echoed around the pitch black cellar. Jake slammed his fists against the door pounding at the boards. He felt beaten.

  Suddenly the door clicked and started to open inwards. Jake stepped back.

  The light crept in, dancing its way across the walls, breathing new life into the stench ridden cellar.

  Jake held his hand up to his eyes, as the brightness hurt his now dilating pupils.

  The voice that came from the doorway he knew all too well.

  ‘You have set Pip free, Michael is dead. Pip would like to thank you, Mr Jake.’ The crazy old fool had released them both from the room.

  Jake opened his eyes, he didn’t know whether to hit or kiss the old man. Before he could speak Pip stopped him.

  ‘Don’t turn around.’ Pip licked his cracked lips. ‘You won’t like it.’

  The words burnt their way into Jake’s brain. Almost like an unhealthy desire to be drawn to doom, Jake could feel himself turn around to face the cellar. He opened his eyes.

  He shot back, pushing Amber behind him. He could hear himself scream, he had no control over it.

  ‘Pip told you not to look.’ Now wearing an old, heavily stained loin cloth, he pushed past Jake and slammed the door shut with a thunderous thud.

  Jake slid down the wall, clutching his daughter as he slumped onto the damp cobbles.

  There must have been twenty, twenty five of them. All hanging upside down from rusty butchers hooks. Their arms, stiff with rigor mortis, were only inches from the floor. The tops of their heads had been cut off and their brains removed. Jake got all this from the few seconds he had dared to look into the forbidden cellar.

  He looked down at his boots; they were stained with blood. The cellar floor was awash with the blood of humans. Men and women, all scalped.

  Jake jumped up. ‘Let us out.’ He looked straight at Pip, who was grinning and stroking his beard. ‘Let us out!’ He now screamed at the deranged old fool, about to grab him.

  Pip jumped back. ‘Follow me.’ He scampered past them both and back up the corridor.

  He led them through the narrow alley way, passing the fallen body of the butcher.

  ‘Wait.’ Jake ordered Pip.

  ‘Stay here, don’t move.’ He placed Amber by the entrance and kissed her on the forehead.

  He went back into the storeroom to collect the rest of his belongings. He was just about to leave when he could see the woman sat in the corner, nursing her baby.

  He walked slowly over to her. ‘Meredith?’ He thought that’s what Pip had called her earlier. ‘Meredith, you don’t have to stay here.’

  The woman lifted her head up to face Jake. She started to laugh, quietly at first but it soon became louder and more moronic.

  Her face was twisted and tired, her eyes as dark as the night. Opening her mouth wide as she laughed, Jake could see she had no teeth, her gums were red raw and bleeding.

  ‘Take my hand.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off the bundle of dirty rags, where the baby was now being rocked vigorously as the woman laughed manically.

  ‘The baby!’ Jake shouted. ‘Think of your child. Please try and calm yourself, you can’t stay down here.’

  Meredith stopped laughing. She stood up. Thrusting the child into Jake’s arms, she then spat into his face and ran out of the room.

  He went to go after her, but decided to check on the baby first. Holding the rags in his arms he opened up the stained swaddling.

  ‘Jesus!’ He shouted, dropping the bundle onto the floor. ‘On my God.’ He stumbled back against the wall. The baby was dead, it had been dead for some time and the eyes were missing.

  Clasping his hands over his face, Jake started to feel dizzy; he really couldn’t take anymore. He needed to be in the open air. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. He needed to be at the cottage. He needed to be with Angel.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘At last.’ Angel said, looking out of the farm house window. ‘The rain has stopped.’

  Roger shook his head. ‘I didn’t like that. The rain was high in acid, very dangerous.’

  ‘Are you a scientist?’ Angel chuckled. ‘Did you measure the acid levels?’

 
; Roger chose not to answer. Sometimes Angel liked to dig him out, but this time he wasn’t going to bite.

  Angel started to pile the kit bags up in the porch of the front door. ‘Could it be sulphur?’ She turned to look at Roger’s reaction. ‘From the volcanic ash cloud?’

  Roger slowly nodded. ‘I’m no scientist, but it sounds plausible.’

  ‘Well it was irritating the skin, I’ve never heard of acid rain that actually burns.’

  ‘Now you are sounding like a scientist.’ Roger smiled. ‘You could be on to something though. Still, the weather looks to have returned to blue skies.’

  ‘For now.’ Angel popped her head around the kitchen door and into the hallway. ‘Lou, Naomi, get a wriggle on!’

  ‘We have lost two days, so it will be good to get back onto the road.’ Roger placed the kettle onto the stove. ‘And with our new found horsey skills.’

  ‘Equine skills.’ Angel laughed.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I just want to get to Old Mill. To see Jake.’ Angel touched her top lip. The more she thought about all they had been through to get to Devon, the more she realised how slim their chances actually were.

  ‘We will get there, I keep promising you that.’ Roger could see how fragile Angel was becoming.

  She exhaled heavily and sat down at the table. ‘What exactly are we doing all this for?’

  Roger was quite surprised at the question. ‘To survive, isn’t that our duty?’’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You mean what does the future hold?’ Roger sat down beside her.

  Angel nodded.

  ‘No one can say, I suppose we owe it to ourselves. To our families.’ He paused. ‘To men like Jake, Yanto and old Jeremiah Rosser to keep pressing on. To keep existing.’

  Angel looked up. The memories of Jeremiah and Yanto brought a fleeting smile. Roger was right though. However bad things got they must never give up. ‘Sometimes.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Sometimes I think I will never see him again, that this whole journey is pointless. Sometimes I think Iris took the best way out.’ Her hands were now shaking.

  ‘Iris was ill.’ Roger took a hold of her hand and held it firmly. ‘You are stronger.’ He then played his ace card. ‘Lou Pepper needs you.’

  Angel knew this and treated it like a double edged sword. Sometimes she loved the responsibility, and doted on Lou as if she was her own. The time they had spent apart had been a painful one, and she knew that she and Lou were now family with an unbreakable bond.

  The other side of the blade was her guilty conscience. She had always been a lone ranger. Only herself to look after, and that’s how she liked it. If she fancied a change of direction, or just pleasing herself, then she could. Lou stifled this, held her back. The weight of responsibility lay heavy on her shoulders and it was something she wasn’t used to.

  ‘It’s like some horrendous nightmare that you can’t wake up from. It’s been going on for months, but now and again I tell myself that any second now I’m going to wake up.’ She banged her fist onto the wooden table. ‘For fuck’s sake, the whole world has fallen apart.’

  ‘Angel! Language.’ Lou Pepper reprimanded her surrogate mother as she entered the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry honey.’ Angel quickly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She didn’t want to burden Lou with all her anxieties.

  ‘Are we ready to leave?’ Lou ran over to the window, looking for the horses.

  ‘Wagons roll I say.’ Roger leapt up with a big smile on his face. He glanced over at Angel, who was now fussing over Lou. He wanted to put her mood down to a bit of cabin fever. They had all been copped up in the farmhouse for two days solid with nothing to do.

  However, he knew it was far more than that. He had felt it too.

  Dissolution, being lost, loneliness; but the worst of all was a sense of not belonging.

  He was part of a small fractured group of survivors, who had been pushed together through circumstance. But none of them really truly knew each other. Not like family or close friends. That came with time, and deep rooted relationships.

  What was the alternative? Suicide.

  He had thought about that back in Bath, after burying his family; he couldn’t go through with it. At first he thought it was because he was weak. He realised soon afterwards that he owed it to his children to try and make a better life for future generations. He had to keep telling himself that.

  ‘Where is Naomi?’ Angel asked.

  ‘Looking for Harry.’ Lou answered.

  Angel scowled. Even the sound of his name annoyed her. Now Lou was saying his name as if he was part of the gang, a friend. In her eyes he would never be a part of this family.

  The front door slammed, followed by pounding footsteps.

  The door flew open, it was Naomi. She was struggling to breathe and she was sweating from her forehead.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Roger ran over to her. He tried to put his arm around her but she pushed him off.

  ‘I’m okay.’ She bent down to take in some air. ‘It’s that little bastard, Harry fucking James.’ Before Lou could complain Naomi apologised.

  ‘What?’ Angel asked assertively

  ‘He’s gone, taken two horses.

  Angel threw her hands up in the air. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Roger asked. He was now feeling responsible, as he was the one who wanted Harry James freed. He had felt he was getting somewhere with him, breaking down some emotional barriers. Now he had let him down badly.

  ‘He just ran out into the field and grabbed them. I was watching him, but it was too late.’ Naomi wiped her brow with her hand. ‘I tried my best, but it was as if he couldn’t hear me.’

  ‘More like didn’t want to.’ Angel added.

  Roger stayed silent.

  ‘Well that’s it now, we are two horses down.’ Angel slammed the kitchen worktop with the palm of her hand. ‘One horse will have to carry two; shorter days and a longer journey.’

  ‘Out there.’ Naomi stared out of the window. ‘With all those blood thirsty maniacs running about. That’s all we need.’

  Angel looked at Roger.

  Roger still stayed silent.

  ***

  Sharon Gough dabbed the cheeks of patient 88. The large Welshman had improved dramatically over the past thirty six hours, and he had opened his eyes and taken on fluids twice. He really did have the heart of a lion and was showing incredible strength.

  That couldn’t be said, however, for most of the injured. Five patients had died over last twenty four hours, and three were not going to make it till the end of the day.

  Sharon was exhausted, she had been thrown in at the deep end and she was barely treading water.

  Jeremiah, of course, had been a great help assisting wherever he could, but his knowledge and skills were limited.

  Doctor Robert was also unavailable, as he had been tasked to perform autopsies on infected bodies. These had been found in the Cotswolds and seemed to have died of natural causes.

  She wiped the blood from her hands and raised the bed sheet over the face of patient 78. Three on the critical list had now become two.

  Jeremiah walked wearily over. ‘We lost another one?’

  Sharon nodded. ‘The injuries were too bad. She never stood a chance, and at such a young age.’

  ‘It’s tragic.’ The old farmer handed Sharon a plastic cup of water. ‘What has become of this world?’

  Just as she was going to answer when the doors of the ward flew open, and in ran Doctor Robert. He was beaming from ear to ear and holding a piece of paper.

  ‘Take a look.’ He thrust it at Sharon Gough.

  She unwrapped the crumpled scrap of paper, and written upon it in pencil were three letters. NoV. Sharon looked at Doctor Robert quizzically.

  ‘Do you know what that stands for?’ He asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Sharon passed Jeremiah the scrap of notepaper. ‘It’s the Norovirus.’

  ‘Yes, the Norov
irus.’ Doctor Robert’s grin got bigger.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Jeremiah looked at both of them.

  ‘Is this to do with the infected bodies?’ Sharon suddenly twigged what might be going on.

  ‘Yes!’ Doctor Robert snatched back the scrap of paper. ‘The bodies I have just been tested died of this.’ He jabbed the three letters with his index finger. ‘They died because they contracted the Norovirus.’

  ‘So we can give it to them?’ Jeremiah Rosser could see where the Doctor was going with this.

  ‘Yes!’ He shouted.

  ‘Do we know this for sure?’ Sharon asked.

  ‘Well I have just infected one of the inmates with it, so we shall find out shortly.’

  ‘A human guinea pig?’ Sharon was usually against such actions.

  ‘I’m sure for once my dear, that even you can see the benefits.’ Jeremiah smiled at her.

  ‘Well we should have the results in the next twelve hours.’ Doctor Robert grabbed himself a plastic cup. ‘And if you two would care to drop by my quarters later, we have something a little stronger than water to celebrate this news.’

  Sharon looked around the ward. ‘But we have so much to do.’

  ‘You two deserve a break. I will arrange some cover for a shift. Please drop by later. We should at least rejoice in the fact that we might be able to wipe out the cancer that sweeps the land killing, so many innocent victims.’

  ‘Well I will certainly drink to that. ‘Jeremiah held up his cup.

  Sharon smiled as the Doctor turned away and left the ward. Her feelings on the subject were a little different. She was all for cure and rehabilitation. If there was only some way of curing the Infected. Behind every pair of bloodshot eyes and snapping teeth was a father, a mother or a child. Wiping them out just meant sweeping it under the carpet. Extermination.

  What if her brother or her niece were one of them?

  She could see their point. In their infected form they were murderous savages who had committed appalling atrocities. That didn’t mean they were dead though; just sick, out of control.

  Sharon would drink with the doctor later, but her work wasn’t done yet. She wanted to find a cure; and then an antidote, however long it took.