Despite how many times they’d hit the container, the diseased below screamed with the same enthusiasm they’d had the first time they struck it. Insatiable in their desire to get at them, the diseased called out with their hellish and tormented cries.
Another loud clang and the container bent a little more than before. Vicky handed the sledgehammer to Rhys and grabbed the pickaxe. Although lighter than the sledgehammer, the weight of the tool still pulled on Vicky’s sore arms.
With one wide-arching swing, Vicky drove the head of the rusty tool into the top of the container. The sharp spike pierced the metal, so she wiggled the pickaxe to make the hole bigger. Only a small breakthrough, but a breakthrough nonetheless.
It took at least another forty-five minutes to beat a large enough hole, but with perseverance, they did it.
The rattle of metal against metal called out as Vicky dragged the ladder back from where she’d used it as a bridge, and slid it into the hole. Although dark, the container had sounded empty when they hit it, so it came as little surprise to Vicky when the ladder struck the bottom before anything else.
A look at Rhys, Larissa, and Flynn caused Vicky to laugh at their pale faces and wide eyes. “I’ll go in first then, shall I?”
When no one replied, Vicky laughed again and shook her head before she stepped onto the ladder and descended into the hole. She’d expected to be the first one into the container, but it would have been nice if someone had politely offered to go instead of her. But to do that would have risked her taking them up on their suggestion. And she would have sent Larissa down there in a heartbeat. Whatever happened, the container couldn’t be any worse than what had gathered outside of it.
As Vicky delved deeper into the darkness, she caught a whiff of diesel. With her nose screwed up against the almost plastic reek, she kept going. Maybe she’d find a vehicle in the darkness.
Halfway down the ladder, Vicky pulled her lighter from her pocket and sparked it. The tormentor in her mind anticipated a mob of diseased, but the container sat mostly empty. Despite the smell suggesting otherwise, the floor of the container had a layer of stained plywood across it and nothing else. What looked like oil spills had soaked into the porous flooring.
Once inside the container—the banging from the diseased outside amplified because of the confined space—Vicky stood on the flat ground and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The hole in the top let in enough light for her to see by, but Vicky sparked her lighter again anyway. As she walked across the container to the doors, the sound of her footsteps echoed in the dark space.
Tentative at first, she reached out to the doors and pushed. They seemed to be locked. Another shove, harder this time, and the doors didn’t budge. With one last try, Vicky shoulder barged the doors and the solid resistance of them ran a shock through her body. They weren’t giving in anytime soon. “Thank fuck for that.”
After a quick check of the container, Vicky found some old gym equipment in one corner. A thick rope, soft enough to be the kind used in tug o' war, free weights, an old running machine, an exercise bike … Whoever had bought this lot had clearly given up on it some time ago. Either that or they had failed aspirations of being a personal trainer. As Vicky stood in the dark, the memory of the boot camp crowd flooded her mind. Black and cerise lycra, perfectly done hair and makeup … what had happened to those women? Had their vigorous weekly sessions set them up to survive in this new world?
Vicky walked over to the exercise bike and pushed down on the pedal. The wheel had seized up.
Vicky returned to the bottom of the ladder and squinted against the burn in her eyes as she looked up through the hole into the daylight. Three expectant faces stared down at her.
“It’s fine down here.”
“The doors are locked?” Rhys asked.
“Yep.”
“And there’s nothing of use down there?” Larissa asked.
Vicky shook her head. “No, I’ve found a rubbish collection of old gym equipment, but not a lot else. There’s space and shelter down here. And the floor’s flat. It’s much more comfortable than up there.”
“Okay,” Rhys said, “we’re coming down.”
They passed Flynn down first, and Vicky took the small boy. Despite all the shit she’d taken from his mother already, she appreciated the little kid’s spirit. A fighter, he rolled with the punches and even managed a smile as he descended the ladder.
When she lifted him off at the bottom, Flynn wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. The little boy smelled of dirt, smoke, and the diseased, but Vicky squeezed back like she’d never let go of him.
When his mum and dad made it down to the container, Larissa reached out to Flynn, who still hugged Vicky. If anything, he squeezed tighter.
After Vicky had tapped the back of his head, she said, “Come on, mate, your mum needs a cuddle.”
But the boy didn’t move.
For a moment, Larissa stared at her son. Her eyes glistened and her bottom lip twitched. A deep breath and she rubbed her eyes before she reached out and held the top of Vicky’s arm. “It’s okay. It’s nice that you can offer him comfort. That’s what he needs.”
Before Vicky could reply, Larissa added, “Thank you for keeping my boy alive. Sorry, I’ve been a bitch up until this point. That’ll change, I promise.”
Vicky didn’t reply as she watched Larissa walk away from her. When she looked at Rhys, the man offered her a tight-lipped smile before he followed his ex-wife to a dark corner, where they both sat down.
All the while, the boom of hands beat against the outside of the shipping container; a constant reminder of the diseased’s intent. Not that they could forget it.
With the small form of the fragile Flynn in her arms, Vicky rocked him back and forth until he fell limp with exhaustion. At some point, he’d have to grow up. That point would be a lot fucking sooner than their previous society would have expected from a child of his age. Poor kid.
Chapter 2
The hard floor had turned Vicky’s backside numb, and her shoulder blades ached from where she leaned up against the cold, corrugated wall of the container. With Flynn asleep on her lap, she hadn’t moved for fear of waking him. Although, if she didn’t stand up again soon, she’d seize up like a rusty hinge.
Despite having sat there for an entire day, Vicky hadn’t been able to sleep; not even now the darkness of night had settled in again. The only light came from the moon through the hole in the roof. It somehow made the groan of the diseased, and their beating against the side of the container, even worse.
As the thud of pounding fists echoed through the dark space, Vicky ground her jaw and knocked the back of her head against the wall behind her. Despite the sharp sting of the contact, she continued, each whack harder than the last. Surrounded by the reek of diesel and with her hips aching from how she sat, Vicky let out a groan of her own. A long and continuous tone, it jumped every time she cracked the back of her head.
Fire burned in Vicky’s knees, so she shifted to get more comfortable. Flynn snorted as her movement roused him. Although he hadn’t woken fully, it gave Vicky the motivation she needed.
In one fluid movement, Vicky rolled forward and stood up. Once upright, she wobbled for a second. After she’d found her balance, she bobbed up and down a couple of times. It eased the ache in her kneecaps and gave her the confidence to walk across the container as she carried Flynn back to his mum.
Larissa repeatedly blinked as she looked up at Vicky. She then adjusted herself to take her sleeping boy. As she held him in close, she kissed the top of his head, and her lips lifted with a slight smile.
With sharp stabbing pains at the base of her back and up each side of her ribcage, Vicky couldn’t sit down again. Instead, she remained on her feet and paced the length of the dark shipping container. Five metres in length at the most, she walked to one side, touched the wall and felt the vibration from the diseased’s fists, turned around and walked back again.
With each length of the container, she wound tighter than before. The boom, boom, boom, of the diseased cut to her core and pulled her shoulders to her neck. This couldn’t go on. No fucking way.
After she’d paced another length, Vicky stopped at the gym equipment. The rope looked both tough and thin enough for what she needed. Vicky threaded it through one of the medium-sized free weights and tied it off to create a pendulum.
When she’d finished, she looked over to see that both Rhys and Larissa were watching her. She shrugged and pointed at one of the walls. “I can’t sit in here with that going on outside. I have to do something.” Her voice echoed in the enclosed space.
Vicky didn’t wait for a response. She couldn’t be bothered to explain her plan, choosing instead to simply act on it. Although it creaked beneath her weight, she climbed the ladder. At the top, she poked her head out into the night. The air reeked of rot, and it forced her tongue against the roof of her mouth in a dry heave.
Once she got out on the container, Vicky walked on tiptoes to the edge and peered over. Although she only had the moonlight, it showed her enough. The horde hadn’t gathered around the container like they had when she’d seen them last. Hundreds of them still wandered in the airfield, but many had lost the target of their rage. Even those that still banged against the container seemed to do it by accident rather than design.
When Vicky, Rhys, Larissa, and Flynn had disappeared from their view that morning, the diseased must have eventually forgotten about them. Like small children, they seemed to have little understanding of where an object had gone if they couldn’t see it anymore. Not that Vicky could do anything useful with that. Regardless of where they had their attention, they still surrounded her and would rip her limb from limb if she tried to get down.
As Vicky stood on the edge of the container, Rhys walked up behind her. “What are you doing?”
“You need to stand back,” Vicky said as she let the weighted end of the rope hang down by about a foot. She then swung it around in a small circle, slowly at first, but picking up speed with each rotation.
After he’d shuffled forward again, Rhys repeated himself. “What are you doing?”
Vicky let more rope slide out so she could swing the weight in a wider circle. To maintain her balance, she had to bend her knees with each rotation. “We have to do something about these fuckers. I can’t sit in that container and listen to them beat the shit out of it for days. We need to try to kill them.”
As she let the rope out even farther, the circle now larger than her as she hung it off the edge of the container, Rhys backed away.
After she’d let out a little more length, Vicky dipped her knees to drop the weight low enough to catch the head of one of the diseased still close to the container. The heavy weight connected with its skull with a wet pop, which dropped it instantly. It upset the perfect circles she spun with the rope, however, and although she tried to control it, Vicky couldn’t stop the weight from crashing with the shipping container. It killed the weight’s momentum, unsettled her balance, and called out over the packed airfield like a gong.
As one, every diseased within sight turned to face Vicky. With her weighted rope limp, she froze. The low murmur of discontent sparked into a shrill cry of blood lust, and the pack rushed forward as one. Any space that had opened up between the diseased and the container closed instantly as they all pushed against one another to get near. With their rush forward the diseased brought a rich stench of rot and excrement with them. Vicky wrinkled her nose at the smell.
With Rhys still by her side, Vicky looked across at him to see him shrug. “It doesn’t look like your plan worked, Vick.”
“No shit.” But it didn’t stop her pulling the rope in and spinning a small circle with it again. After a few rotations, she let more of the rope out until it swooped down far enough for her to crack another diseased in the head.
Another loud cracking pop and the thing buckled beneath the blow. Within seconds, it had disappeared from view as the mob filled the space it left and trampled it beneath their feet. Clearly agitated by their fallen brethren, they screamed louder than before; a dreaded warning to Vicky that they’d get her.
After she’d dropped the third diseased, and it too vanished beneath the rush of its comrades, Vicky dropped the weighted rope down on top of the container and turned to Rhys. “Happy now?”
“Why would I be happy?”
“Because it hasn’t fucking worked. Because it was a stupid idea to think I could kill the diseased from here with a rope and a weight.” As she looked out over the crowd, she sighed. “We’d need a fucking nuclear bomb to remove this lot.”
When Rhys didn’t reply, Vicky slowly spun three hundred and sixty degrees to take in the airfield. Thick with diseased, the noise had called out to all of them.
Rhys looked as horrified as Vicky felt. He nodded toward the hole they’d made and said, “Come on, we need to get back inside the container and think of a better plan.”
Vicky laughed. “There is no better plan, Rhys. We’re fucked!”
Once back inside the container, Vicky stamped on the floor, sending an echo through the small space. “Fuck it!”
Instead of judgement, Larissa looked at her with concern creasing her brow as Flynn stirred on her lap. “What’s up?”
A shake of her head and Vicky paced the container again. “I thought I could kill some of the diseased, and it would give us a chance to escape from here.”
“You can’t kill them?” Larissa asked.
“I can kill them, but when I kill one, three more take its place. The commotion of killing one attracts others. I should have left it. When I went out there, they’d started to lose interest in the container. When they can’t see us, they seem to forget about us. They …” Vicky clicked her fingers, and the sharp sound snapped through the small space. “That’s it!”
This time, Rhys spoke up. “Huh?”
“I think I know how we can get away from here. Maybe not all of us, but I think a couple of us will be able to sneak out and get some supplies at least.”
Chapter 3
With both Larissa and Rhys behind her, Vicky sat down on top of the container with Flynn and lifted the weight attached to the end of the rope. Despite having survived an entire day and night against the fuckers, Flynn still stared out at the horde of diseased with his jaw loose and his eyes wide.
“You don’t need to worry about them, honey,” Vicky said as she too looked out. The early morning sun stung her tired eyes from not having slept for the past few days. “They can’t get you up here. They can’t climb, and we’re too high up for them to reach.” Not that she could say with any certainty that they couldn’t climb; only that she’d not seen any of them climb yet. A chill ran through her. Climbing diseased didn’t bear thinking about.
When Flynn didn’t reply, Vicky put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you hear me?”
After several blinks, the boy nodded and turned to look at her. Pale from what Vicky assumed to be a mixture of exhaustion, hunger, and fear, he still didn’t speak.
“Okay,” Vicky said as she held the weight with both hands, “I need you to do this.” She released her grip and let gravity do the work. A loud boom sounded out as the weight hit the container. More of the diseased looked up at them.
Flynn visibly shook as he stared out at the mob again.
With a hand on his shoulder, Vicky squeezed as she whispered, “Trust me, you don’t need to fear them; not while you’re up here.”
For a second time, she lifted the weight and dropped it again. The noise stirred up the diseased, who grew louder as if agitated by the sound.
“I need you to have a go,” Vicky said as she handed the weight to Flynn.
The boy nodded again but still didn’t speak. He dropped the weight against the steel container and another loud boom called out.
As she watched Flynn lift the weight back up and hold it in mid-air, Vicky nodded. “Go on, give it another try.�
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Flynn dropped it again.
Without any encouragement, he did it again.
And again.
Vicky patted the slim boy’s back. “Attaboy. Just keep that up. You’ll get all of the diseased to come over to this side, and it’ll give us a chance to get away. Remember, they can’t hurt you up here, okay?”
After Flynn nodded, Vicky leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. The boy smelled of dirt, and his hair had turned greasy. When she looked back at his parents, she suddenly realised where she was. “Um … sorry.”
Before Rhys could speak, Larissa shrugged. “What for?”
“For kissing him. It felt natural, but he’s not my boy.”
“You care about him. That’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Vicky dipped a slight nod at Larissa and got to her feet.
As Flynn beat a steady boom, Vicky lifted the ladder from out of the shipping container. Like she’d done to get the tools, she stretched it across the gap between the container they currently stood on and the closest one to them. At no more than two metres, the gap already seemed less imposing than it had the first time. The others’ pale faces and tight expressions suggested they didn’t feel the same.
“I don’t think I can do it,” Larissa said as she peered over the edge and shook her head.
With a hand on her back, Rhys leaned into his ex-wife. “You can. I know you can.”
While the lovebirds worked it out, Vicky walked across the ladder with ease. Sure, Larissa’s attitude had changed toward her, but that didn’t stop her feeling like a spare part in this little family she’d found herself with.
Although Rhys moved with less confidence, his arms thrust out to the side and his attention on the diseased below, he followed Vicky over.
It looked like Larissa wouldn’t come as she looked from Vicky and Rhys to Flynn, and back to Vicky and Rhys. “I don’t want to leave him there by himself.”
The Alpha Plague - Books 1 - 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller Page 51