Infanticide (Fallen Gods Saga Book 2)

by T. W. Malpass

  There were at least two hundred converted standing between him and Sweet Dreams. He deliberately picked an area of the front line where he did not recognise anybody and headed straight for it. About ten yards from them, he hesitated, hearing another volley of gunfire, then with one massive intake of breath, he strode forward and the converts parted to let him through. In seconds, they created a tight, clean channel right to the steps of the sweet shop. Jerrico could taste iron on his lips. The blood that splattered his face as he’d bludgeoned Father Devon had been washed into his mouth by the rain. All he could do was avert his gaze from the horrors that drooled at each side of him and keep on walking. They were so close he could feel them brush against his shoulders. The converts did not make a sound. He couldn’t even hear their breathing, but he knew they were all watching, not with their own eyes – with his. The walk was only a short one. Nevertheless, it felt like crossing the ocean of his past. People that once would have waved to him from the shop window or stopped for a chat were gone. Only their flesh remained.

  The jangle of the bell above the door made Jerrico jump as he entered Sweet Dreams. He did not dare look back, but he made sure he closed the door behind him. The music that had guided him through the night suddenly faded behind the shop’s antique counter. He didn’t expect to see real sweets, but they lined the shelves on each side, and he had an irresistible urge to reach up and grab the jar marked Aniseed Twists. Their cherry colouring took him back to when he was six years old, sitting on his mother’s knee. She always used to have a packet in the house, and she would bite off a slither of the hard candy, placing it on little Jerrico’s outstretched tongue.

  He shook himself free of the memory and turned from the jars. A smell tainted the air, a smell he recognised. The same smell he’d walked into at Frank’s house – the unmistakable aroma of death. The blue glow from the jars at the back of the room then caught his eye. He moved closer to read their labels. The sound of shifting feet came from the shadows and Jerrico braced himself for the worst. A whimper followed – undoubtedly someone in great distress.

  ‘Kate.’ He rushed past the counter and knelt down by her side. Kate was cowering in the corner. She flinched as he laid his hands on her. He grappled to hold her steady, lifting her chin so her face caught the glow from the shelved jars. She had been crying so hard that her face had swollen up. There was a dark patch running vertically along her left cheek. Her eyes moved erratically around the room and it seemed, at first, she did not recognise him at all. He held her chin firm in his grasp, forcing eye contact. ‘Kate, Kate, it’s me – it’s Jerrico.’

  Kate was lucid again. She looked into his eyes with a fearful anticipation. ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’ The only thing he could think to do was to hold her tight. Eventually she responded and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing as if she had visited the origin of the world’s despair.

  Jerrico felt the blow to the back of his head, his knees buckled and he fell forwards onto the floor. Kate screamed as the attacker threw himself on top of him. Jerrico regained his senses enough to flip over onto his back. He could not believe his eyes. Phillip Jeffers, Kate’s dead fiancé, was upon him, clawing at his body, pressing his fingertips into the flesh of his chest. Phillip’s face looked dead – his skin grey and shrivelled. Jerrico grabbed a handful of Phillip’s t-shirt in an attempt to fend him off. As a result, the t-shirt rode up around his chest to reveal the thick scar running along the centre of his torso, crudely stitched together, and already beginning to heal itself. In the struggle, Phillip’s strength was proving too much for Jerrico. He was unable to slip the bigger man’s grasp to wriggle from beneath him. Like the other residents outside, whatever used to exist behind Phillip’s eyes had long gone, replaced by complete automation, as dark as anything can get.

  ‘He has been waiting for this moment, haven’t you, Phillip?’ Cradleworth’s voice echoed around the room but he was nowhere to be seen. ‘He and I have been discussing Miss Meadows and her infidelity.’ Each time Cradleworth spoke, the source of his voice altered its location. ‘It seems there were several things about your relationship with her that you thought Phillip was aware of. As it turns out, he wasn’t, and now, unfortunately for you, he is very unhappy. On top of this indignity, he knows he only died because of your reluctance to face what you are.’

  Phillip seemed to react to Cradleworth’s comments, wrapping his large hands around Jerrico’s neck.

  ‘There’s nothing quite like being murdered to really boil the blood,’ Cradleworth added.

  The downward force started to crush Jerrico’s windpipe and he tried to gasp for air. He grabbed at Phillip’s wrist with neither the energy, nor the positional advantage to combat his strangulation.

  ‘There’s little point trying to reason with him. He knows that after he married Miss Meadows and they settled down, it would have only been a matter of time before she entered into another liaison with you.’

  Cradleworth’s voice sounded more distant as Jerrico started to drift in and out of consciousness. His legs were still kicking out, but he was beginning to lose the feeling in them, and they were slowing down. All of his muscles were seizing up.

  ‘This should be viewed as natural justice, after all, if you had not interfered in his fiancés life, Phillip would not have been caught up in all of this.’

  Kate could not take it anymore. ‘Make it stop!’ she screamed. She managed to crawl from behind the counter.

  ‘Only you can do that, my dear. Time to make your choice. Who is more valuable to you? Whom do you love the most?’ Cradleworth said.

  Kate tried to reach out to Jerrico but she was too weak and too far away from him. ‘You’re killing him, you’re killing him,’ she sobbed.

  ‘That’s right, and you have about thirty seconds before it will be too late,’ Cradleworth replied.

  Kate turned towards the shelves behind her. The first jar of blue mist that caught her eye had Phillip’s name on it. She fought through the fear and gained the energy to stand up. Before she could take the jar from its place, Cradleworth’s voice rang out again. ‘Are you certain this is what you desire – a life on the run with a wanted man? Of course, I use the term man very loosely. If you are willing to give up your future husband and all of your dreams – building a home and a family – it then begs the question of why you abandoned Mr Flynn in the first place, doesn’t it? What a mixed up girl you are.’

  Kate turned back to face the two men, still struggling on the floor. ‘I love you,’ she said. With both hands, she lifted the jar above her head and threw it to the ground. The glass shattered on impact, and the blue mist rose up to waist height before dissipating into the atmosphere.

  Phillip fell limp on top of Jerrico, allowing him finally to take a desperate breath.

  Kate ran to his aid, helping him to manoeuvre from under her fiancé’s lifeless body. ‘We have to get out of here,’ she said, hauling him towards the door.

  ‘Your dad’s out there,’ he gasped, fighting to get air back into his lungs.

  She understood immediately what it meant for her father, but there was no time to grieve if they were to stay alive. ‘Wait here.’ Kate ran back to the shelves behind the counter.

  ‘Kate?’

  ‘I need to do this.’ She scanned the changing labels on the jars four times before she found the names of her parents, carrying them back to the door, one under each arm.

  The mass of Walton converts still stood like statues where Jerrico had left them. The channel created when they had stepped aside to let him pass remained, so he reached out for Kate to take her hand.

  Kate lifted the jar with her father’s name upon it and kissed it. She paused and closed her eyes for a second, then with a deep gulp, she let it fall and it smashed against the steps of the store.

  Jerrico watched Adam’s body collapse to the ground. The broken jar seemed to create a disturbance within the ranks of the converted, as if they
all felt the loss collectively. The channel of escape began to close and the mass of bodies took a step closer.

  ‘They know what you’re doing. We have to go – now,’ Jerrico said. He tried to grab hold of her arm but she wriggled away to throw her mother’s jar against the steps. This time when the glass shattered, the converted took another step, and kept going. They began to climb the steps and Jerrico dragged Kate back to the doorway. ‘Did you see another way out to this place?’ he asked.

  A volley of gunfire rang out. It sounded close, and the converts reacted to it. They dispersed from the square in unison, heading down the road towards the sounds. Jerrico pulled Kate to him in relief, kissing her forehead. ‘Don’t let go of my hand, and don’t look back,’ he whispered. He led her away in the opposite direction to the oncoming soldiers. Jerrico headed for the quickest route out of the square, straight into the path of three waiting soldiers. They lifted their assault rifles to sight up their targets.

  ‘Do not move.’ The soldier’s chemical mask muffled his shout.

  Jerrico raised one hand in surrender but refused to let go of Kate’s hand with the other.

  ‘Do not move,’ the soldier repeated. They advanced into position, circling Kate and Jerrico. All three wore the masks, along with black jump suits and combat boots.

  One of the other soldiers spoke into the radio attached to his shoulder. ‘Command, this is team eight. We have two uninfected at our location. Permission to transport to exit point, over.’

  A voice came over on the soldier’s comm system. ‘That’s affirmative. Bring them in, Sergeant.’

  The soldier stepped toward them, beckoning them with a flick of his rifle. ‘Okay, you two come here, slowly,’ he said.

  Before Kate or Jerrico could move, a shot pierced the air. The bullet struck the soldier in his chest. Another shot struck him in the face of his chemical mask. One of his own colleagues had delivered the kill. The soldier who’d opened fire turned on the other soldier to his left. The unexpected betrayal confused the soldier but he acted quickly. Both managed to get off a shot before falling to the ground. One was dead, the other, badly wounded.

  Jerrico and Kate were frozen to the spot, unable to process what they’d witnessed, when a shout came from a building across the street. ‘Over here.’ Martha appeared from behind the wall, waving them over.

  ‘It’s okay. She’s a friend,’ Jerrico said.

  As they reached Martha, they saw that she was not alone. She struggled to lift Vladimir to his feet so she could support him with her shoulder. ‘Don’t just stand there. Help me get him up. It drains him every time he jumps,’ Martha said.

  Kate didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, but Jerrico understood now why the soldier had turned on the others, and moved to help support Vladimir’s weight.

  More gunfire drowned the pounding rain, this time accompanied by a flurry of heavy footsteps. Through the downpour, they made out the black outline of a large force moving towards them. The only path of escape lay in the opposite direction.

  ‘All we need to get back is a mirror, and a little bit more time,’ Martha huffed.

  ‘My old school,’ Jerrico replied. ‘I know how we can get in – follow me.’

  3

  Morrow and Reeves displayed their identification to the guard on the roadblock and were allowed to pass through, but forced to vacate their vehicle just inside the perimeter. Morrow made a beeline for the command post while Reeves hung back, anxious about the possible contagion present in the village. Morrow didn’t care whether he followed or not. He could see the huge barricades ahead, mounted with powerful spotlights that tracked through Walton’s streets.

  A large group of soldiers huddled together on the edge of the safe zone, checking each other’s breathing equipment and preparing their weapons. It was obvious that they were on the verge of a tactical assault of some kind. Morrow searched through the flurry of activity for the person in charge. He received some strange looks, but no one questioned his presence. They were too busy launching their offensive. It didn’t take long for him to find who he was looking for – a tall, thickset man standing next to what appeared to be a communications centre.

  As Morrow got close, a guard approached the thickset man. ‘Colonel Forest, we are ready to move in,’ he said.

  ‘Very well, Captain. Wait on my order,’ the Colonel replied.

  Morrow decided on a bold tactic. These officer-public-school types really got under his skin anyway, so he wasn’t afraid of pissing him off as long as he got what he came for – the truth. ‘What exactly is going on here, Colonel? I thought this was a viral outbreak. You look more like you’re responding to a terrorist attack.’

  Colonel Forest turned to face Morrow. ‘And you are?’ he asked.

  ‘Detective Inspector Keith Morrow.’

  ‘What brings you here in the middle of the night, Inspector? As you may have noticed, we have pressing matters to attend to.’

  ‘This village is home to a murder suspect I’ve been chasing. We heard it had been quarantined.’

  ‘It has indeed. This suspect of yours called Jerrico Flynn?’

  ‘He’s here, isn’t he?’ Morrow’s heart was pumping. He couldn’t recall when he’d felt such a rush of life in his veins.

  ‘One of the guards thinks he has a positive ID on him breaching the perimeter.’

  Morrow moved up to the Colonel, lowering his voice so the other soldiers buzzing around couldn’t hear. ‘You have to get me in there, Colonel. It’s imperative I speak to him.’

  ‘I bet it is. I’m sorry – there are more important things at stake here than closing out your latest case.’

  ‘What if I was to tell you that Jerrico Flynn is connected to your so called outbreak? Possibly even responsible for it.’

  Colonel Forest then signalled to the captain of the waiting team for his men to move in beyond the barricades. ‘I’d like to hear your explanation for that statement, but now is not the time. Once my men have secured the area, you may enter with me and we’ll see if we can find your Mr Flynn.’

  Before Morrow could reply, his phone began to buzz in his pocket. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, pulling the phone from his coat. ‘Morrow.’

  ‘Inspector? It’s John Ridley,’ the voice on the other end said.

  ‘Doctor?’

  ‘I’m outside. They won’t let me past the roadblock. One of my patients called me and told me that the army had sealed off the whole village. What in God’s name is going on?’

  ‘Stay where you are and I’ll send someone to get you.’ Morrow took the phone from his ear and looked to the Colonel. ‘Jerrico Flynn’s psychotherapist has just arrived. I think he could prove useful.’

  ‘Very well.’ Colonel Forest retrieved a walkie-talkie from the table next to him and used it. ‘Lieutenant, there’s a doctor at the gate. Make sure he gets through to the command post.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ the lieutenant replied.

  Morrow saw Reeves standing twenty yards away on his own, dithering in the rain. ‘Reeves – for God’s sake.’

  4

  ‘It’s here.’ Jerrico gasped under the weight of Vladimir’s limp upper arm. The footsteps and gunfire got closer, no matter how hard they ran. Vladimir still coughed and spluttered, his feet dragging behind him. Even Kate grasped at the belt on his waist, trying her best to take some of the strain. As they reached the railings around the schoolyard, Jerrico climbed over to the other side, reaching back with both hands. ‘Pass him up. Be careful though, it’s slippy,’ he said.

  After much struggling, the three of them managed to get Vladimir up and over. The women quickly followed. They could hear the soldier’s shouts behind them.

  ‘Come on, come on.’ Picking Vladimir from the wet concrete, they headed over to the main building. Jerrico found a way onto the roof by means of the toilet block, and from there, onto the section housing the classrooms. He hoped that the old, dodgy skylight he’d found a few years ago hadn’t been repai
red. Early on during his recovery, he used to sneak onto the roof to smoke some weed and admire the stars after his therapy sessions with Ridley.

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ He gave the window a shove and it dislodged from its runners so he could slide it open. They dropped down into the school’s longest corridor. Exhausted, it took them a while to catch their breath and get back to their feet.

  ‘Mirror,’ Martha gasped.

  ‘The gym block. It’s one door I know isn’t locked,’ Jerrico said. He helped Martha to steady Vladimir and they made their way, heavy legged to the end of the corridor. Jerrico suddenly felt an image wash over him. Everything in his sight melted away. He wasn’t in his old school anymore. He was back at Sweet Dreams, staring into the grinning face of his nightmares.

  ‘Sometimes, I feel rather like Cinderella – my time is short, so I have to make hay while I can. No matter, the choice is made, and the die has been cast. Be seeing you soon, my boy.’ Cradleworth’s dark grin widened to inhuman proportions. ‘Do watch out for those soldiers, won’t you.’ Cradleworth’s mouth opened to release the same ungodly scream as it had the first time he and Jerrico met, and all the glass in the shop and its windows imploded, engulfing Cradleworth’s body until he disappeared completely. The next thing he knew, he was skidding across the floor, blown backwards by the imploding windows in the school’s corridor. He came to, lying in a heap with the others, dazed and covered in shattered glass.

  ‘Kate?’ Jerrico crawled over to her, brushing the shards of glass from her.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Kate said, pushing herself upright.

  ‘What happened?’ Martha rubbed her head in confusion.

  ‘It was Cradleworth. There’s no point going to the gym block now. The fucker’s broken all the mirrors in the village.’

  ‘JERRICO FLYNN?’ The piercing voice from the loud hailer caught them off guard. ‘JERRICO, THIS IS COLONEL FOREST. THE AREA IS SECURE. THERE’S NO NEED TO RUN ANYMORE, SON. I PROMISE YOU THAT MY MEN WON’T OPEN FIRE, WE JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU.’