The noise of the diseased ran a perpetual murmur in the background, a constant groan of discomfort and dissatisfaction. It came from every angle, almost as if the buildings were infected too. It ran so rife it had become a part of the fabric of the city. Rhys could deal with the sounds in the background. Long may they remain there.
As if on cue, the rasp of a diseased shot across the otherwise abandoned area. Although he couldn’t yet see the monster, by the sound of its phlegmy death rattle, he had seconds to get the fuck out of the way.
With the closest tower just metres away, Rhys ducked into the recessed entrance and lifted his bat. His pulse kicked to the point where it unsettled his breath and his head spun. A mixture of exhaustion, dull pain, and adrenaline made him tremble where he stood.
The scrape of the creature’s clumsy feet drew closer and Rhys pressed his back into the steel shutter in the tower’s entranceway. Despite the lowered temperature outside, the hot metal retained the day’s heat.
The sound of the diseased got louder and Rhys watched the space he expected it to fill.
Then two of them appeared. They walked down the middle of the pedestrianized area, their uncoordinated shuffle a stumble away from sending them sprawling. Their docile state stood in stark contrast to the fury-driven monsters on the tail of a scent.
The smell of the diseased wafted Rhys’ way, so rich it made his eyes water. He fought back his retch.
He continued to shake as he watched them pass. It was a man and a woman, not that gender mattered to them anymore. The bite mark in the man’s cheek ran so deep that Rhys saw a white flash of bone beneath it. He couldn’t see how the woman had turned. Maybe a hideous gash ran down the other side of her face, or a huge tear in her flesh that revealed most of her skull beneath.
They could have looked over and seen Rhys at any moment, but they didn’t. Listless and damaged, they shuffled along without a glance his way, their focus ahead of them and jaws hung loose.
When they left Rhys’ sight, he released a heavy sigh.
Then he waited to give them time to move on before he stepped out into the street again.
After a few minutes, Rhys checked Flynn’s Superman watch. Twenty minutes since he’d last looked; in less than three hours the accursed island, and everything on it, would be burned to a crisp.
Rhys wriggled the walkie-talkie free from his trouser pocket and turned it over to inspect it. It seemed to have survived the crash intact. After a quick check that the volume remained low, Rhys flicked it on to call Vicky.
She answered almost instantly. “Hello?”
“Hi, how are things?”
“We’re all good. You?”
A deep breath and Rhys said, “I’m hanging on. I’ve met a person who also wants to rescue somebody, so we’ve teamed up. We’re keeping each other alive, although there’s something I don’t trust about him.”
“Oh?”
“He knew your name.”
Vicky’s reply snapped back. “My name?”
“Yeah. I’m sure I didn’t tell it to him, but he knew it all the same.”
The sharpness left her tone. “W… what’s his name?”
“Oscar. At least that’s what he told me it is. The fella’s handy in a fight though. He’s saved my arse on more than one occasion already. I’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for him.”
Silence.
“Vicky?”
“Yeah… sorry; I’m worried about you, Rhys.”
“Don’t be; I’m fine. Can I talk to Flynn?”
The small voice of his son came out of the speaker. “Hi, Dad.”
Rhys’ eyes burned with tears and he started to tremble. He cleared the lump from his throat. “Are you okay, mate?”
“I’m fine. When are you coming back? Have you found Mummy?”
“I won’t be long now. I’ve spoken to Mummy and she’s going to be coming out of the city with me. Just hang on there, yeah?”
“Okay, Dad.”
“I love you, mate.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
By the time Vicky came back on, tears ran down Rhys’ cheeks.
“Just be careful, yeah?” she said. She still sounded distant; knowing that Oscar used her name had clearly unsettled her. Before Rhys could say anything, she said, “I’ll see you before nine.”
Rhys nodded for a few seconds before he cleared his throat again. It did little to take the warble from his voice. “See you then.” He flicked the walkie-talkie off and took a deep breath.
Rhys then poked his head out and saw the place looked clear. A couple of cautious steps later gave him a better view of the pedestrianized area; the diseased had gone for now.
Before anything else could come, he crossed the street. With the slightest twist at the base of his back, he ran awkwardly like a lizard over hot sand, before he disappeared down yet another alleyway.
Prior to the lockdown, the city had been so light Rhys never noticed the tightness of the walkways. Now the reflective windows had been covered, half the city became a shadowy maze.
The constant moan of torment that rode on the back of the breeze didn’t help the mood either. Summit City had turned from a shining bastion of commerce into a gloomy, hellish, labyrinthine nightmare.
When Rhys came to the end of the next alley, he poked his head out and saw Dave’s tower. His heart sank. Thick clouds of black smoke squeezed through the armoured shell and rose into the sky like an ominous flare. Instead of asking for help and attention, it seemed to mark the building as a place that had been lost.
Chapter 14
When Rhys got to within ten metres of Dave’s tower, the smoke hung so thick in the air that every inhalation stimulated a rasping cough. Each deep bark not only called out to any diseased in the area, but also threw stars across his vision and made his head spin.
Anyone other than Dave, and Rhys would have written them off as dead; everyone in the tower had surely been killed by now. With The Alpha Tower so close and time running out, he would have made a beeline straight for that but he owed it to his best mate. He couldn’t write him off before he’d checked to be certain.
Rhys pulled his hand inside his shirtsleeve and clamped it across his mouth. The thick fabric did little to filter the smoke and he found it nearly impossible to breathe through. He freed his hand and used that to breathe through instead. God knows if it helped or not.
No matter how many times Rhys blinked, the thick smoke burned his eyes, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
He only found the shutter at the front when he crashed into it. It felt warm to touch. With so much smoke around the building, it must have been the fire rather than the sun that heated it.
Like on Building Seventy-two, it had the same gap between the sheets of steel. Smoke poured through the gap.
Rhys looked around and saw nothing. Even if his eyes had remained clear, the dense and noxious cloud would have prevented him seeing any farther than a few feet.
The crackle and roar of the fire inside the building drowned out everything else; even the call of the diseased.
After a deep breath, Rhys pushed his face into the gap. The glass had already been smashed and the smoke burned his eyes worse than before. It felt like he’d poured detergent into them.
Rhys pulled away, rested his hands on his knees, and coughed to the point where he heaved.
Several gulps cleared the taste of plastic, and after pulling in another breath, he pushed his face into the gap again. He spoke on the exhale. “Hello,” and then turned away so he could press his ear to the gap and breathe more freely.
No one answered. Of course they didn’t fucking answer. Everyone had died in there.
One more try for Dave’s sake.
Another deep breath, several body-flipping coughs, and he called again, “Hello! Is there anyone there?”
A pair of bloodshot eyes appeared at the gap and Rhys jumped back. Wild and streaked with tears, they almost looked like they had the disease—almos
t. They weren’t coated with a film of blood.
“Help us,” the man said as the eyes widened. “There’s not many of us left in here. The smoke and fire has killed so many already.” A deep wheeze and he coughed. His voice faded. “Please, help us.”
Rhys strained his ears and heard the sobs and cries of a handful of people behind the man. “Is Dave Martin still in there?”
The person on the other side of the shutter paused for a moment. “Yes, yes he is.” He turned away from Rhys. “Dave? This guy’s asking to speak to you.”
While he waited, Rhys looked behind and rubbed his eyes to try and clear his vision. It didn’t help; if the diseased wanted to rush the front of the building now, they’d find an exhausted, gassed, and blinded sitting duck.
When the damp eyes of his best mate appeared, Rhys’ lip buckled and grief wedged as a hot lump in his throat. It tightened his words. “Dave? Thank god you’re okay.”
Dave spoke with a croak in his voice. “I won’t be for much longer. You need to get us out of here, brother.”
“I will, I promise. What the fuck happened, anyway? This isn’t the first building I’ve found on fire. Is it some kind of electrical fault?”
“Some bright spark thought setting the building on fire would trigger a system to release the shutters.”
“Someone did this on purpose?”
After a heavy coughing fit, Dave said, “I know. Fucked up, right?”
“Well, I’m going to The Alpha Tower now. They have a room where I can override the defence system. That’ll set you free.” Rhys stopped to cough. “But you have to be ready to run the second the shutters lift. There are zombies out here. Real-life, crazed, lunatic zombies.” Before Dave could say anything else, Rhys continued, his voice strained as his throat tightened. “I ain’t shitting you. You just need to trust me, okay?”
After Rhys had coughed again, he listened to Dave say, “Okay.”
“So when the shutters come up, run for all you’re worth and get to Central Station. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can, and we’ll get out of this godforsaken city.”
Uncertainty hung on Dave’s words. “Okay. Please hurry, Rhys.”
Rhys nodded. “Hang on in there, mate. I’ll be as quick as I can. I love you, man.”
It came out as another feeble croak, but Dave replied. “I love you too.”
Chapter 15
Although he currently saw the world through blurred vision, Rhys ran as fast as he could from Tower Twenty-one. With such poor sight, every step could trip him, but his head spun and he couldn’t breathe. He had to get away before he collapsed.
His eyes burned from the smoke damage. Tears moistened his cheeks and he had a thick lump stuck in his throat. Maybe grief played a large part in blinding him. Just the sight of Dave’s face… His friend’s usual self-assurance had gone, robbed from him by his dire situation. Rhys had never seen him so vulnerable.
A heavy sniff, his sinuses clogged, and he wiped his runny nose with the back of his sleeve. Dave needed him and Rhys would make damn sure he got him out of the tower. If Larissa died so be it; at least he’d tried for his son’s sake. But if he lost Dave… it didn’t bear thinking about.
Once he was free from the thick smoke, Rhys stopped. He leaned on his knees and coughed at the ground. The heavy barks bucked through his body and aggravated the ache at the base of his spine.
While he fought for breath—the taste of burned plastic at the back of his throat—he stood up straight and looked around. Although his eyes still watered, distance from the smoke made it easier to see. The area seemed free of the diseased.
The alleyway across the street led to the square with The Alpha Tower in it. When Rhys inhaled again, his lungs felt like they had half their capacity, at best.
He glanced at Flynn’s Superman watch. Two hours and forty-five minutes until the streets were flooded with fire. Another look up and down the street, and Rhys ran across it.
Rhys panted when he arrived at the end of the alleyway and looked into the square. He rubbed his face; his tears had driven some of the smoke from his eyes, which helped him to see clearer. The square seemed vacant but looks meant nothing with the city in its current state.
Another couple of deep breaths, and the tightness in his lungs eased. After several more blinks, his misty vision cleared some more. The chaos of just a few hours ago had gone, although the memory remained burned into Rhys’ mind in high definition. His heart raced as he looked at the open space.
The lowering sun lit up the square. When they opened the shutters, they’d be unleashing chaos on the city, but at least the shiny windows would return light to some of the dark crevices. If he never ran down a gloomy alley again, it would be too soon.
A final round of forced blinks, and Rhys rubbed his eyes yet again. When his vision cleared, he lost his breath. The vast expanse of concrete that paved the square glistened. Spilled blood covered what seemed to be every inch of it. The sun reflected off it, the blood deep enough that it hadn’t dried yet.
Not only had it painted the pavement red, but blood also coated the stone benches, and several of them had been broken clean in half. It must have taken a serious whack to break them; they looked like they could withstand a lightning bolt. Thank fuck he got out of the square when he did.
Every part of the open space had been stained or damaged by the diseased. Everywhere except The Alpha Tower and—his heart skipped—the fountain. The almost white concrete wall remained immaculate, even in the sea of blood that surrounded it. Jake wasn't in the water anymore either; although how the fuck he went anywhere with broken shins…
The only difference between the fountain in front of Rhys now and the one he’d left earlier that day was the water. The pump worked fine, it recycled the water as it should have. The water itself, however, had been dyed bright red.
Rhys squinted and his eyes ached at the sides from where the smoke had dried his skin. A look back at the ground again and he saw chunks of flesh scattered across it. Some pieces were so big and nondescript they could have been packaged up and served in the chilled section of a supermarket. Others retained their human form. A strip of skin lay to his right; about a foot long, muscle still clung to it. Short, curly hairs ran the entire length of it and Rhys saw the corner of a tattoo. It looked like it had been rent from someone’s leg.
Before he could think on it further, the thwapping of a helicopter blade vibrated through his chest and disturbed the air around him.
Rhys pulled back into the alley and watched a large black chopper come in over the top of a couple of towers.
The air forced down from the blades tousled Rhys’ hair and sent ripples over the surface of the layer of blood that coated the square.
The helicopter lowered over the middle of the square and stopped about ten metres from the ground. The loud rotors battered his eardrums, and the wind flapped so violently, Rhys had to blink repeatedly. Two men, dressed from head to toe in black and wearing helmets with tinted visors, lowered a large cage out of it.
After about thirty-seconds, the cage scraped against the concrete ground. The men pulled back into the helicopter and Rhys lost sight of them.
About the size of a small car, the cage remained still. The men had given the chain attached to it enough slack so it didn’t shift around with the bird above.
When Rhys cupped his hands around his eyes to protect them from the wind, he finally saw the contents of the cage and his stomach sank. Icy dread drained the strength from his muscles, and he shook where he stood. He could only manage two words. “Fucking hell.”
Chapter 16
One side of the cage fell away and hit the concrete with a loud crash. It created an opening into the rectangular prison. It had clearly been designed as a trap; bait had been tied inside the cage on the far wall. The sound of the loud rotors had drowned him out, but since Rhys had seen him, he couldn’t help but hear the naked man’s screams. He yelled so loud his voice cracked and wavered. Rhy
s gulped against the taste of plastic in his own throat as he watched on.
In a matter of seconds, the scream of the diseased joined that of the man. A glance across the square, and Rhys saw the pack. Clumsy in their desire to get at the man, they sprinted straight for the cage. They ran like they always did—heavy footed and right on the edge of their balance. One misstep and they’d crash flat on their faces. Rhys did a quick headcount. Seven… seven diseased—all of them male.
It hadn’t seemed possible, but when the man saw them, he screamed louder still. Rhys’ sight cleared with every passing second, and he now saw him thrash more violently than before. His exposed penis shook. Lacerations covered his body. Maybe the disease would be a relief from what he’d evidently been through already. At no more than twenty-five, this man’s short life had reached a torturous conclusion.
As the diseased closed in on him, their roars grew louder.
The man’s screams changed into violent shaking sobs. With his hands, feet, and neck tied to the cage, he fell limp like a hung puppet. Hope had obviously left him.
With an accelerated pulse, Rhys watched on. In a perfect world, he would have done something. They didn’t live in a perfect world though, and he had too many people he loved that needed him.
One of the diseased had broken away from the pack. With no more than about ten metres between him and the entrance to the cage, it seemed to speed up.
The man looked at him. His mouth moved but nothing came out, almost like he screamed on a new frequency—a frequency that could only be heard in hell.
When the lead diseased entered the cage, the metal bars rattled as they bounced against the concrete ground. The other diseased entered behind him just as the one in the lead reached the naked man.
Metal clattered; both the diseased and the man screamed, and the rotors turned. Yet all of that paled in significance when Rhys heard the wet crack as two bodies collided.
The Alpha Plague - Books 1 - 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller Page 25