by Rich Hawkins
They were screaming and howling, lusting after blood and meat.
“Keep moving!” Frank said. The fairway opened before them with nowhere to hide, an open range where they’d be run down and gutted. An easy killing ground.
Caitlin slipped from Frank’s grip and fell down. She cried out. He glanced at the infected then picked her back up and dragged her with all his strength. But she was dead weight.
“They’re coming,” said Florence, tears falling from her eyes as the infected’s horrid screams filled the air.
Frank hated himself for what he had to do, but it was a simple decision.
He let Caitlin go. She fell to her knees, reaching for him as he pulled Florence away from her.
“Don’t leave me!” she said, scrambling after him, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t leave me!”
“I’m sorry. I have to. I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t fucking leave me! You’re murdering me!”
The infected were closing in. Florence screamed. Frank dragged her along and they broke into a stumbling run. He looked back to see the infected fall upon Caitlin, swarming her. One of the men ripped away her leg at the knee and buried his mouth in the gristle of her calf muscle. They dismembered her upon the grass while she was alive and snaffled the morsels ripped from her abdomen.
She was still screaming when they tore her heart out.
After that, Frank didn’t look back.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Broadbridge Heath was desolate and silent.
Frank and Florence reached the centre of the village and stood in the road. A rotting stench drifted from beyond the open doorway of the community hall on one side of the street. There were crashed cars but no bodies. Fifty yards ahead of them, a bus had been abandoned across the width of the road.
Frank still heard Caitlin’s screams inside his head. He shuddered as he recalled her death. His heart strained inside his chest. Florence hadn’t spoken to him since they’d escaped the golf course.
“I’m not a bad man, Florence. I had to leave Caitlin behind. I didn’t have a choice.”
The girl’s face was shaded with dull blotches. “Would you do the same to me?”
“Do what?”
“Leave me behind for the monsters.”
Frank crouched before her and held her by the shoulders. She didn’t flinch away from him.
“I would never leave you behind, understand?” His voice was louder than he intended, and he saw it in her face, so he lowered his tone and tried to smile. “I left Caitlin behind so we could live. So we could survive. I did it to protect you. Caitlin was a stranger; you’re my friend, Florence, right?”
“I think so.”
“I wouldn’t leave a friend behind.”
“Is it my fault she died? Because you wanted to save me?”
“No, of course not. Don’t ever think that. Caitlin would have died anyway. She had lost too much blood.”
“Would you leave me behind if I was really badly injured?”
“I’d stay with you, Florence. I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“Okay.”
“I promised to get you to Bordon.”
“Okay.”
He let her go and stepped back, then turned when the sound of a vehicle’s engine approached behind them.
Florence heard it, too, and looked at Frank. “Do you think they’ll give us a lift?”
“Maybe, depending who it is.”
A white transit van appeared at the top of the road, heading towards them. Frank guided Florence to the pavement. The van picked up speed. He made sure to keep the axe visible by his side and the girl behind him as the van slowed to a clumsy stop next to them. The engine idled. The two men in the van looked at Frank, then at Florence, then back to Frank.
The driver, a chubby man with glasses and a goatee beard, wound down his window and grinned. “Hello.”
“Hello,” said Frank, nodding at the men.
“Hey there,” said the other man. He was wiry and scraggly, wearing gardening gloves and a beanie hat.
“Where you heading?” the driver asked.
Frank cleared his throat. “We’re looking for the nearest rescue centre.”
“That’s cool. My name’s Bertram. This is Mackie.” He cocked a thumb at the wiry man, who waved and flashed a gap-toothed smile.
The men stared at Frank, as if waiting for him to introduce himself. He said nothing.
“Where you coming from?” said Bertram.
“Horsham,” Frank replied.
“Bloody hell. You got out of there just in time. I watched it burn.”
“So did we.”
Bertram looked at Florence. “Hey there, little lady, you look a bit pale. Are you okay? Are you sick?”
“She’s fine,” said Frank. “Just a bit shaken up with all that’s happened.”
“You her father?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just making conversation, my friend. I don’t mean any harm at all.”
Mackie waved at Florence. His beady eyes gleamed.
“We could give you both a lift,” said Bertram. “Wherever you’re going…”
“We’ve got sweets,” Mackie said. “And fizzy pop.”
“No, thanks,” Frank said. “We’re fine.”
Bertram frowned, but the expression seemed false. “You sure? It’s dangerous out here, especially looking after a little girl. Come on, we’ll give you a lift. Hop in the back. It’s no trouble. No trouble at all.”
“Yeah.” Mackie placed a sweet in his mouth and chewed. “We insist. Come on, man. Look after your little girl.”
“What do you think, little lady?” said Bertram. “Do you want a ride in the van? You’ll be safe, I promise. We’ll have some fun.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Frank muttered.
Bertram’s mouth turned up at the corners like a knife-cut in pale meat. “No need to be rude, my friend.”
“Dickhead,” said Mackie, shaking his head at Frank.
Bertram wiped his nose, the hint of a smile playing across his face. “It’s too dangerous on the road. You really want to put your little girl in danger?”
“It’s no concern of yours.”
“We’re just trying to help.” Bertram’s dull eyes lingered on Florence. “Would you like some help, little lady?”
Frank’s hand tightened on his axe. “I said don’t talk to her.” And he took hold of Florence’s hand and they walked away.
Bertram and Mackie were giggling behind them.
“Why are they laughing?” asked Florence.
“Ignore them,” said Frank. “Now, those men are strangers.”
“My mum always told me not to talk to strangers.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Hey, come back!” Bertram said.
Frank kept hold of the girl’s hand. “Keep walking.”
The van pulled up alongside Frank and Florence, keeping pace with them. They didn’t stop or turn towards the vehicle.
“There’s no need to be belligerent,” said Bertram. “We have to stick together in times like these.”
“Dark times,” said Mackie. “Dangerous times. People are dying.”
“Come on, we’re trying to help you both.”
Frank halted and pivoted towards the men, keeping himself between them and Florence. “Listen, fellas, I’m very grateful for the offer, but we’re fine.”
“You think that axe will protect you?” Mackie said with a note of mockery in his voice.
“It’s a shame you won’t accept our kind offer,” Bertram added. “Do you think if I beeped the horn any infected people in this village would head this way?”
“I reckon they would,” Mackie replied with a malignant grin. “Bet they’re pretty hungry.”
“We’re not asking for trouble,” said Frank. “Please leave us alone. I’m asking nicely, lads.”
Both Bertram and Mackie’s eyes flicked towards Florence. He glared
at them. He could not appear to be weak.
“Come on, get in the van,” said Bertram. “We’ll have a road trip.”
Mackie slapped his hand on the dashboard and popped another sweet into his little mouth. “Yeah, that’s a good idea!”
“Leave us alone,” Frank said. “Get the fuck out of here. It’s as simple as that.”
Bertram shook his head and glanced at Frank’s axe. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, buddy.”
Mackie sniggered. “Yeah, we’re really sorry.”
The back of the van opened and a man in a black balaclava jumped out. Frank only noticed the baseball bat in the man’s hands as it was swinging towards him, and he managed to raise his arms just as the bat connected with the side of his neck, nullifying the force of the swing. The man’s assault was clumsy and mistimed, but effective. Frank went down and hit the back of his head on the pavement. He dropped his axe and the rucksack.
The man swore and spat, before launching into a ferocious assault on Frank’s ribs, stomach and legs. Frank shielded his face and tried to kick at the man.
“Florence!” he shouted.
Florence screamed. Bertram grabbed the girl and threw her in the back of the van. Mackie was laughing and clapping.
Frank called out to her before a swing of the bat glanced against his forehead and everything blurred into watery colours. Florence was yelling, begging him to help her.
The man with the bat stood over Frank and laughed, snatching his bag from the ground.
“Come on, let’s go!” said Bertram. “Leave him for the infected.”
The man kicked him in the stomach and returned to the van.
Sprawling on the pavement, Frank watched the van drive away. The sound of the engine faded as the vehicle disappeared down the road. The ground was cold underneath him. A strangled sob escaped his mouth. He had let down Florence. His daughter was dead. Emily…Florence…Emily…Florence. Both of them were gone, and it was his fault. It was his fault he had lost them.
Somewhere, maybe far away or nearby, the infected were screaming. The sounds of monsters gathering for a hunt.
Frank passed out.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Faces formed around him, shifting out of the darkness like pale stains seeping through black cloth. Loved ones and old friends alike came to him, and Catherine smiled but there was something wrong with her face. Something wrong with her mouth and how it opened to tempt him with its slick tongue. Her breath was the stench of spoiled meat and digestive juices; bile and rot and all things torn from quivering bodies.
He saw Ralph, Magnus and Joel. They were charred skeletal corpses with heat-whitened eyes and ivory grins. Their bones clicked as they shuffled their limbs to welcome him.
He saw Caitlin, the woman he’d abandoned to the infected. She was now a monster, all glistening spikes of black bone and snapping mouths.
He saw David Pulver stuffing bits of his children into his mouth.
He saw Corporal Guppy and his lads. They were all dead, piled atop of one another, flies droning around them and rats squirming between their decomposing bodies, chewing and gnawing on their soft meat.
Then he saw Emily, his dead daughter. But she was alive, here. She slowly assumed the shape of Florence. They were the same, both of his girls. They came to him as shivering forms and embraced him, burying their sharp mouths into his tender stomach. They loved him. And he loved them back.
He loved his girls.
*
A white room. Catherine was sitting next to him. Plastic chairs creaked with every movement, metal legs scraping on the floor. The smell of strong disinfectant and rubber gloves was all around them.
Catherine cried as Frank held her. He was crying, too.
Emily was a withered body under white sheets, riddled with tubes and tumours, her heartbeat measured by the monitor beside her bed. Her hair had fallen out. Ten years old and as pale as the room she would die in. Dark shadows under her eyes. She had faded into a paper-thin form of skin and bone, like a rag doll with a little girl’s face. The drugs kept her in oblivion and it was better this way. She would slip away and wouldn’t even know.
They whispered their daughter’s name.
The beeping of the heart monitor stopped and became an uninterrupted wail.
*
Frank’s eyes snapped open and his head throbbed with each heartbeat.
Dark shapes appeared over him. The infected. Cold hands flailed at his arms and legs.
One of the infected said his name. A voice he recognised.
“Frank, are you okay?”
The faces of Ralph, Magnus and Joel manifested into clarity, looking down at him with concerned expressions.
“Ghosts,” Frank muttered. “Lots of ghosts…” His mouth was dry, his gums tender, and his jaw felt bruised and sore. He raised one hand to a lump on his forehead and winced, then threw up on Ralph’s shoes. He spat bile, stringy saliva, and the undigested dregs of that morning’s breakfast.
“Charming,” said the ghost of Ralph. “Ain’t seen you in ages and all you can do is puke on my best trainers.”
“Sorry,” Frank slurred, forgetting what he was sorry for.
“Is he okay?” the ghost of Joel said. “I thought he was dead.”
“Broken bones?” The ghost of Magnus looked into Frank’s face. “Are you okay? What happened to you?”
“Looks like he got in a fight,” Ralph said. “And lost it.”
Joel’s face was loose like a poorly-made mask. “Let’s get him off the street.”
“The monster’s nearby,” said Magnus. “It’s following us.”
Frank smiled at his dead friends as Ralph and Magnus hoisted him to his feet. The street around him was a spinning carousel. His bones felt brittle, his skin so tight over them it might split if he was moved too quickly.
“Hurry up,” Joel said. “It’s coming.”
They dragged him down the street and climbed aboard an abandoned bus. Frank’s eyes bulged at the dead driver sagging over the steering wheel. The man’s uniform was straining at his swollen body.
“I used to ride the bus to school,” said Frank.
“We all did, mate,” said Ralph. “Good old days.”
He swooned, the world dimmed, and he was lost in the darkness.
*
Frank came to on a seat near the back of the bus and cringed at the stink of piss and vomit mixed with the peculiar musk of public transport. It birthed images of sagging pensioners, grey-faced women, and chavs scowling at thin air.
Ralph held him down. He shook his head and put his finger to Frank’s mouth. On the other side of the aisle Magnus and Joel cowered behind a seat.
Something creaked at the front of the bus. Something had joined them. Frank peered around the side of the seat in front of him and looked down the aisle.
At the front of the bus was a naked man with mottled skin and spindly legs. The sound of his breath was a wet gurgle as he shuddered and twitched. Writhing tentacles burst from the sucking rent of his chest and stomach, dripping gelatinous fluids onto the floor. He turned his body towards the back of the bus. The tentacles were dotted with tiny suckers, and at the centre of the tentacles was a human face, grey and anguished, pulled tight across angles of bone. Frank watched as the face opened like a fleshy flower to reveal a circular pink maw rimmed with tiny sharp teeth, within which a whip-like red tongue squirmed and pulsed.
Frank felt his legs go weak.
The man-creature turned away and appraised the dead driver. Its tentacles latched onto the man’s back and dragged his bulk from the seat, pulling him towards its red tongue.
The dead man’s head vanished within the clutch of tentacles. His body jerked, trembling to the sounds of grinding and scraping.
The creature hauled the body outside and dragged it away.
The men regarded one another, and they were silent.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
They stayed on the bus.
&nbs
p; “I thought you were ghosts,” said Frank. “I thought you were all dead. Fuck, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you all.”
There had been much back-slapping and hugging earlier. The camaraderie was a lift to his spirits, and for the first time in a while he felt some hope.
He checked for his inhaler in his pocket and was relieved to find it there with Joel’s wallet, which he handed over to his friend. Joel nodded and thanked him.
He tried not to think about what those men would do to Florence, but when the horrible images of abuse formed in his mind, it was all he could do not to cry for the girl.
“What happened to you?” he asked his mates.
“What happened to you?” said Ralph. Freckles of dried blood dotted his face. “You abandoned us, and left us in that house with the freaks in the attic.”
“You shouldn’t have left us,” Joel muttered.
“I’m sorry.”
Magnus looked at him. “What happened?”
Frank recounted the events up to when they found him on the pavement outside. They were silent as he told them of the last two days; about finding Florence and rescuing her from Wishford.
“Fucking hell,” said Magnus. “This is insane.”
Anger flared in Ralph’s eyes. “That poor girl. She survives all of that carnage just to be abducted by some perverts in a van.”
Magnus cleaned his glasses. “Monsters, everywhere.”
“A plague,” Joel said. “It’s almost Biblical.”
Ralph snorted. “Let’s not start that nonsense. It’s a virus, not the wrath of God.”
“How is it transmitted? Bites? Blood and saliva?”
“If it’s airborne we’re all fucked,” said Magnus.
No one spoke for a moment.
Ralph scratched himself. “You’re lucky to be alive, Frank. I wish you didn’t try to save every person who needs help. We need to look after ourselves, not other people. I told you that before you left us. You should listen to me.”
Frank glared at his friend. “Yes, I know. But you don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t know what I’ve seen. I had to kill a man who was eating his dead family. I’ve watched people get slaughtered by monsters. Florence lost her parents to the infected, saw them die, so I had to take care of her. I tried to protect her but I failed. Don’t talk down to me, Ralph, because we’ve all made bad decisions and done things in the last day that we regret, so why don’t you just back off for once?”