by West, Mark
Tyler quickly jumps in. ‘I’m not doing it, I hate heights. I feel like the roof tiles will slip out from under me like on Jurassic Park. You know … the bit where they’re running from the raptor. Or was it the T-rex?’
His eyes shy away from the conversation. Amy joins in. ‘Roof tiles don’t slip off Tyler, you clown.’
‘Well, you go then.’
Amy shakes her head. ‘I would, but you need me here. Besides, I might shoot you guys if they come running at me.’ She winks at me, and flashes off a cheeky grin.
I’ve had enough and step in quickly before it gets out of hand. ‘Bloody hell, guys.’ I do my best to try and seem serious, but I feel I’m coming across as more of a jerk. ‘I’ll go. I’ll do the job of forager and guard, shall I?’
‘Okay. Sweet.’ There is no compassion in Rohan’s voice. ‘You go and we’ll wait for your signal.’
‘Good stuff, Jackson.’ Tyler slaps my back and I stumble forward a step. ‘Call out when they move from the door. And make sure you hide behind the wall, so we don’t accidently shoot you.’
‘Go on.’ Amy directs me to the window with a pointing finger. ‘Off you go. We’ve wasted enough time talking about this. It won’t hold much longer.’
‘Geez, thanks guys.’
I gather my composure and walk to the window. The frame is close to the floor, making it easy to step out onto the low-pitched roof. With all my years of experience climbing on roofs, I find this task simple. I step out while holding my machete in my right hand and use the other to guide myself along the wall towards the bedroom next door.
When I reach the bedroom window, I peer carefully around the frame so I’m able to see inside, keeping the rest of my body hidden from view. I spot them in seconds, standing by the door. It looks like the entire family: parents and two kids. Torn shreds of material hang off them, except for the father who has somehow lost his shirt. Their bodies are thin and seem to be withering from starvation. That’s if they can starve – I remember the guy in the container.
I reach for the sash and begin jiggling it up to around halfway. It slides nicely, squeaking only once very softly. Luckily the group doesn’t hear it over their cries for food. I hold tight to my machete, just in case, and poke my head through the window. ‘Oi! Over here!’
The family turns the second the words are out of my mouth. I have a deep, sinking feeling when I see all eight red eyes staring back at me. Before I can take in anything else, the smaller child charges in my direction, leaving the rest of the family staggering slowly behind. I’m taken by surprise with the sudden speed and agility the child possesses. I pull my head back out through the window and slam it shut. It shudders, and I take a quick step back and see the glass explode and the little girl’s head poke through.
I stumble backwards in shock, dropping my machete. I hear it tumble down the tiles before it falls off the roof and lands on the ground below.
‘Guys!’
I try to regain my footing, the small child snapping and snarling in my direction. Her face is covered in blood, every centimetre of her soft features sliced by glass and timber. She wriggles, bashing at the frame and trying to force an arm through. I fumble around for my pocketknife which is strapped to my hip, pulling it out and holding it in front of me. It seems feeble with what I’m up against, its eight-centimetre blade competing with a raging child. I decide not to attack and slip it back.
The girl continues to bash at the broken frame, knocking more glass onto the roof while trying to wriggle her shoulders through. I suspect her stomach is cut deeply because I can see more blood staining her pink top and spilling onto the roof as she climbs further out.
I call out again, louder this time, and finally hear the door to the room come crashing open. A second later the sound of gunfire rings out. I quickly duck back a few metres away from the window in fear a stray bullet may come whizzing through the wall.
The young girl is still moving. I can’t understand why she hasn’t been shot yet. She breaks free of the frame’s grip and tumbles onto the roof. There is nothing now between us.
‘Shit!’
I turn and run, not wanting to be lunch, and head back towards the hallway window. I can hear her pounding the roof behind me, her not-so-delicate feet slamming down on the fragile tiles. I run past the window knowing there is not a chance of getting through without being jumped. The roof line runs in one continuous circuit around the entire ground floor and I know, if I need to, I can run laps until help arrives. That’s if I don’t slip or get caught, because she is fast and not letting up anytime soon.
I’m halfway around the house, when I notice a pile of spare tiles ahead. The thought crosses my mind of using them as a weapon. I glance back, trying not to slow my speed, to see the girl stumble a few times as her feet clip the edge of the roof tiles. She falls back a few paces and I know if I’m going to do anything, this is my chance.
I pick up more speed and when I’m in close to the tiles quickly slow and bend to grab one. The awkward movement and weight of the tile trips me up, and I stagger forward, slamming my foot down on the roof. Luckily most of the tiles hold and I don’t fall through.
I quickly turn to face her, and without hesitation I swipe the tile across the side of her face, tearing off part of her cheek with its rough edges. The tile doesn’t break, so I follow through with another attack, catching her jawbone and sending it flying over the edge.
The tile has shattered so I pick up another, continuing my relentless attack. The girl slows, but I show no mercy and twist my body to lay another crushing blow into her right eye socket, dropping her to the roof like unwanted trash. She is unresponsive except for a final twitch as the last nerves slowly die.
‘Fucken hell!’
I spin around to see Lincoln standing behind me dumfounded.
‘You squashed her head to mush!’
His eyes are wide with amazement. I notice he too is covered in blood.
‘Only way to kill a runner,’ I answer, confidently. But I don’t feel confident, because that one almost got me.
‘She was a runner?’
‘Yep. Bolted at me as soon as I called out. Made me drop my bloody machete off the roof.’
‘You got to watch them runners, Jackson.’ He takes a few steps in my direction, concerned, and peers down at the girl. ‘Glad you’re okay.’
I take another quick glance at the girl and the destruction I have caused. It haunts me every time I kill a child, and know I’ll be seeing this one tonight. I wince at the thought and turn away, not wanting to see anymore.
‘Let’s get our stuff and get the hell out of here.’ I say, dropping the bloodied tile. It clatters to the roof in pieces.
When I enter the bedroom, I’m greeted with the sight of the parents’ mutilated bodies in a corner. The boy is propped up against the wall with a spike through his chest. His face is unrecognisable. I notice he has been struck multiple times.
‘Shit, what the hell happened in here?’
‘Don’t ask. Just know the business was sorted,’ Rohan replies in a harsh tone, before leaving the room.
I turn to Amy and raise my brows, but she just shakes his head and walks out with Noah. There is no one left to question, so I follow, closing the door and marking it with a cross.
When I’m halfway down the hall I spot Tyler by the stairs. He waves me over. ‘That Rohan guy …’ He checks around. ‘He’s nuts.’ He emphasises the last word and his eyes grow wider, giving me a look that is simultaneously crazy and serious. ‘He is going to get himself, or someone else, killed one day.’
His words don’t surprise me, I know Rohan can be reckless. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Let’s put it this way. He doesn’t see them dead the way we do. It’s like he has a vendetta against every one of them for killing his girl. Okay, we get it, she was killed. But there’s no need to mutilate them all in a sick attempt for revenge.’
The injuries on the boy make sense now. I spot
Rohan halfway up the hall marking another searched room with a cross. He looks harmless at the moment, but I can understand where Tyler is coming from. Rohan is seeking revenge. I don’t know how I would react if Victoria was killed, let alone killed because I wasn’t there to protect her.
‘What do you think we should do?’ I ask.
‘God knows. But one thing’s for sure, I’m staying the hell out of his way when they come running.’ Tyler slaps me on the shoulder. ‘At least he’s on our team.’ He turns and walks down the stairs.
I push open the door to a stale, musty room which I guess is an office. It’s empty, of course. The house is now free of Infected. I head to the curtains and pull them open and light fills the room. The room appears to be more ancient than the rest of the house, like I have stepped through a time portal. Deep brown timber panels line the walls, and rows and rows of books sit on dark-stained shelves. I scan the books. There are textbooks, encyclopedias and a range of other books, but none that I’m interested in taking.
There is a brown sofa in one corner and a large hand-crafted desk by the window. I ignore the sofa and walk over to the desk. I run my hands across the leather covered surface, and down the crafted timber sides. It’s beautiful, and I wish I could somehow take it with me. But I know I can’t. It has three drawers on one side and an empty shelf on the other. I pull at the drawers and find they are locked. There is a small keyhole at the top. I remove my pocketknife, flick out the blade and jam it into the hole, twisting it around until I force the lock open.
The top drawer reveals nothing but papers and a few pens and I close it shut. In the second drawer I’m surprised to find a nice pocket watch and an old school compass on a leather strap. I stuff the compass into my pocket and inspect the watch. It is gold plated and is one of the older styles that hang on a metal chain with a button at the top that you would see in the late nineteenth century. I press a button and the front flap opens to reveal the face. It is still working, but the time seems a little out. There is a message etched into the casing of the watch on the inside: Forever in my life, a memory I will always hold. Love Sally. I close the flap and check the last drawer.
A gun. It’s shiny black and rests next to a box of bullets. I snatch it up quickly for a closer look, like I have found something taboo. It’s a 9mm semi-automatic but I don’t know the brand. My knowledge of handguns is very limited. I check to find the magazine is loaded and the box of bullets next to it is mostly full. It’s a great find. This is the first gun we have come across and I know the others will want to see it, so I stuff it into my backpack and quickly exit the room.
Rohan is prancing around the room with a pink fluffy boa wrapped around his neck. I have no idea why he is doing it, but I begin to laugh with the others. It’s hilarious. It feels good being able to let off some steam. I hold tight to the gun in my bag, deciding not to tell the others until later. I have a feeling that if I tell them now it may change the mood. He climbs on a chair and flaps his arms, pretending to be a swan. What a clown.
Chapter 33
THE BEAST
It’s around midafternoon when we leave for home. The truck is packed to the brim, making the drive slow. I feel every bump the road gives back. Something digs into my leg and I shift a little, only to feel something worse press into the other side. The heat from the afternoon sun is cooking me like toast, and I shift around some more, desperately trying to find a better position.
‘This is so uncomfortable,’ Lincoln moans in the back.
‘I second that,’ Rohan grumbles.
‘How do you think Tyler feels in the back,’ Amy says.
I glance in the side mirror and spot Tyler in the tray. I can see things shifting around as we turn the corner. ‘I’m amazed he hasn’t been squashed.’
Noah turns in his seat, peering out the back window and begins to laugh. ‘Check out Tyler! A box keeps hitting him in the head.’
I turn as best I can. A timber box is on top of a cabinet and the movement of the truck is causing it to slide from side to side, knocking Tyler in the head. He has to use his free arm to push it back each time. I can see it aggravates him, but I laugh when he eventually peers up to see everyone watching him. He scowls and flicks us the bird. The laughing intensifies and he mouths the words ‘Screw you all’ before pushing the box back again.
The drive continues like this for another twenty minutes or so until we come to a sudden halt.
‘Why have we stopped?’ Noah asks, trying to see from the back seat. ‘I’m roasting back here.’
‘Come on Amy!’ Lincoln calls out. ‘What are you doing?’
Amy is gripping the wheel and bending forward, squinting through the windscreen. ‘What’s that?’
‘What’s what?’ Rohan is trying to see up ahead, but can’t because he is covered in the endless supply of stuff we have acquired.
‘I can’t see anything back here.’ Lincoln hollers. ‘What is it, Amy?’
‘Shut up.’ I push a few items aside and lean forward, trying to follow Amy’s gaze.
Amy releases a hand from the steering wheel and slowly points in the direction of the hill up ahead. ‘Can you see them?’
I look along the road and up a small rise to where the road falls away a few hundred metres ahead. There are shadows, several in fact, and they seem like trees from a distance, but can’t be because they are standing in the middle of the road.
‘What do think?’ I ask.
‘People,’ Amy murmurs. ‘Looks like they’re waiting for something.’
I try to lean forward some more, but something crushes against my side so I have to lean back. ‘Waiting for us?’
The roof of the cab rattles. I ignore it, my attention focused on the shapes. It continues, turning from small taps to a couple of large thumps I can’t ignore. I wind my window down and stick my head out. ‘What?’
A sheepish Tyler calls back. ‘Why have we stopped? I’m dying back here.’
‘We think there’s something up ahead,’ I answer, feeling a strain in my neck. ‘Up on the ridge. A group of people.’
‘Well let’s go sort them out and get moving already.’ Rohan comments.
‘Hold your horses, sunshine.’ Noah is quick to respond. ‘We don’t know enough to go barging in blindly.’
Rohan huffs.
‘What do you guys think up front?’ Noah asks. ‘Go around them?’
They still haven’t moved, but my assessment of the shapes has me nervous as hell.
‘Let’s keep going, but slowly, and see if they move,’ I answer.
The truck eases forward. The closer we get the clearer it is the shapes are people. Eight to be exact. Eight people standing on the ridge of a hill, two out in front with the other six in a line behind. It’s creepy and looks like it’s a tactical stance, but I honestly can’t be sure.
‘Could be a trap,’ Amy remarks, and I agree with what she is thinking.
‘You could be right. We won’t know until we get a little closer.’ I indicate to the road up ahead. ‘That’s our direct path home. If we double back it’s another hour or so.’
No one complains. Another hour on top of a journey that is already an hour long is like going into a sauna for the day. I’m hot, sweaty and tired, and really need to pee. But unpacking the stuff around me to get out of the truck then putting it all back in, is a task I have little energy for, so I’d rather we keep moving.
When we are about a hundred metres from the group they begin to move. At first they are slow, and then I notice the ones out front drop off and let the six behind overtake. I can’t see their faces to see if they are dead or alive, but they are moving like soldiers, arms as one in a perfect line.
Something prickles my neck and I reach out and grab the wheel. ‘Stop!’
Amy jams her foot on the brake and peers at me with worry in her eyes. ‘What?’
There is a loud thump. At first, I think it’s Tyler. Then Amy is ripped through the open window by her hair. Instinct k
icks in. I lunge, grabbing hold of one of her legs and wrestling with it for a moment before it slips free and I see her dragged across the ground, kicking and screaming. I yell in terror when I see what has a hold of her. It’s no human. The first thing that comes to mind is Beast.
I open my door, flinging items off my lap and onto the ground, my sense of fear flying out the of the truck with them. Without thinking, I run round the truck to where Amy is being dragged. Another door opens and Noah, Rohan and Lincoln run up behind me.
Amy is now halfway up the embankment on the side of the road. The Beast still has her by the hair. She is desperately trying to break his grip, but keeps slipping as she bounces along the rocky surface. The Beast is like a child with a toy, pulling her with no effort further and further away, until he is ready to play.
I call out Amy’s name, but she doesn’t answer. I can’t take a shot because I forgot my gun and curse myself for leaving it in the car.
‘Shoot the Beast!’ I yell back to the others, and spot Tyler lying on top of the truck, gun now pointing in its direction.
I turn back to the creature. It may have once been human, but the only indication of that is the remnants of material hanging from its rhino-suited body. It turns its face towards me. I shudder when I make eye contact with dead black eyes and feel death peering right through me.
There is gunfire and black fluid explodes from the Beast’s shoulder. The creature drops Amy. She tumbles, rolling to a stop after just a few metres. The Beast begins roaring. It’s deep like a lion, and reverberates through my body.
Amy is slowly crawling away when the Beast picks up a boulder and lifts it high above its head; the size of the boulder a testament to its power. The boulder is brought back with a twist of the body. I sense what the Beast is about to do and turn to see Tyler frustrated on the roof of the truck and still shooting. I scream for him to just kill it. But it’s too late, the boulder is soaring through the air. It hits the truck below the driver’s door with a thunderous crunch, lifting the truck on to two wheels and sending Tyler flying backwards. The truck balances for a moment, almost tips over, then lands back on all four wheels with a crash.