Infanticide (Fallen Gods Saga Book 2)

by T. W. Malpass

Josie lay down on the double bed, curling up into a ball. She didn’t get under the sheets, choosing instead to wrap Kaleb’s long knitted cardigan around herself. ‘Still feel dizzy?’ Kaleb said, as he sat down beside her.

  ‘Not much anymore – just tired.’

  ‘Shut your eyes then. I’ll watch over you.’

  She frowned, reaching behind her to take Kaleb’s hand. ‘Doesn’t matter how tired I am. I can’t sleep, not like this. I feel like every wall is closing in on us.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about my family. They have no idea what’s waiting for them, and to warn them would only make things worse,’ Josie said.

  ‘I thought about calling mine, but what difference would it make? How could they believe it? It’s hard enough for us to accept and we aren’t even…’ Kaleb did not want to say too much.

  ‘If we’re not human, then what are we?’ Josie asked.

  ‘We’re lost souls. So I suppose, in that sense, we are just the same as everyone else.’

  Josie turned over to face him, pulling him further down onto the pillow next to her. ‘I don’t feel as lost as I did before I met you,’ she said.

  Kaleb caressed the edge of her jaw line with the back of his hand, wriggling up against her body. ‘What did you see when you touched that man on the road?’ he asked.

  An urge took control of Josie. She grabbed the front of his t-shirt, planting a moist kiss on his lips. No sooner had her tongue slipped inside his mouth, they were fumbling to undress each other. It was a struggle, but their hunger froze time. The cool air permeated their nakedness. Josie smelled the sweat on his body, suddenly aware the odour rose from her as well – too many days without bathing properly. Kaleb went deep inside of her and – it hurt, but the pain came as a comfort, a welcome relief from the stalking terror in her heart. Being with him didn’t feel like she thought it would. It wasn’t magical. But it was profoundly reassuring.

  Kaleb read her for the entire time. He wasn’t offended by the way his affections were received. After all, a little comfort was all he wanted for himself.

  3

  Briaridge Orchard, Bedfordshire

  Stuart looked all over the manor until he finally found Barnes lying in the long grass outside, near the barn where he had found Jerrico. The symbiosis between boy and dog grew day by day, and Stuart was fully aware of his friend’s plunge into depression. He knew why too, but with everything that had happened, and now Jerrico’s disappearance, he’d been too afraid to speak with him.

  Barnes lifted his sagging jowls from his paws when he sensed Stuart approaching. Although his eyes remained on the boy, his attempt to lift himself was only temporary. Stuart got as close as he could then stopped the Jollybird. He tried to reach down and stroke Barnes’ head, his fingers barely touching the ends of his chocolate fur. ‘Barnes, what can I do? I’m worried about you. You’ve hardly eaten for days.’ Barnes answered with a whimper, lifting his head again to lick Stuart’s hand. ‘It’s the boy, isn’t it, the one who you lived with before? Is he in danger?’

  Barnes was never able to provide Eric, his former owner, with any kind of explanation for his departure. Even though he was with Stuart, he couldn’t be truly there for him. There was no other way around it. He needed closure, needed to discover what had happened to his young companion, if he was to pull himself from this dark place.

  ‘Go then. If you can find a quick way in and out, none of the others need ever know you’re gone.’ Stuart’s voice was strong and assured, but Barnes could see the tears welling up behind the thick lenses of his glasses. He sent Stuart a message back, promising that he would not desert him.

  ‘I know you won’t. Now go, before I hold you down and stop you.’ Barnes got to his feet and pushed his wet nose into the back of Stuart’s waiting hand. ‘Be careful, boy.’

  4

  Tonwell, Hertfordshire

  Kaleb sat up with a jolt. He shook his head to knock the drowsiness out of him and reached across to the bedside dresser for his watch. They had been asleep for almost an hour. He hadn’t intended to sleep at all, but the gentle euphoria they had shared helped him forget the world long enough to close his eyes.

  Josie lay still. Kaleb’s moving around hadn’t disturbed her. He wanted to run his hand through her blonde hair, but he wouldn’t wake her yet. His mouth felt incredibly dry. He thought about grabbing some bottled water from the vending machine downstairs in the foyer, but as he clambered from the bed and stood up, his head started to spin and once again, the strange spherical sculpture flashed through his mind. Steadying himself on the dresser, he headed gingerly for the door. He managed to travel all the way along the corridor and down the stairs without seeing or hearing a soul. The foyer was just as lonely. Not even Mr or Mrs Hatchet sat behind the reception desk. Kaleb stood up against the illuminated facia of the refreshment machine, inserting a pound coin into its slot. He pushed the button for his selection and as it dropped, the thud of the plastic bottle echoed through the silence of the hotel. He could still taste Josie on his lips and in his mouth, and for a moment he was reluctant to drink from the chilled bottle he now held in his hand.

  His left ear twitched, picking up the faintest of sounds. At first, it seemed as though it was coming from somewhere distant – a tapping sound, with a rhythm to it. The more he listened, the more he realised it wasn’t coming from another room at all. It was right behind him. He moved over to the empty reception desk. The sound became much clearer, not tapping though, more like a slow drip. ‘Hello – Mr Hatchet?’ He leaned in through the serving window of the reception desk. The dripping sound came from the wound on Mr Hatchet’s neck. His blood flowed into an ever-expanding pool on the reception floor. The poor old man was slumped over the leather-backed chair. Kaleb looked away. He propelled himself back from the desk, almost tripping over as he did. He noticed that the glass double doors to the entrance were closed shut. He rushed over to push and pull at the handles – both locked. If someone had robbed the hotel, killing Mr Hatchet in the process, why would they use the keys to lock up behind them? he thought. He thought about Josie, and his heart fell through to the pit of his stomach. He dropped the bottle of water and raced back up to the first floor, hurdling three steps at a time.

  Josie had already woken and was preparing to leave the room. She heard his hurried footsteps along the corridor and his erratic breathing as she opened the door. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘We’re in trouble. We have to get out of here, now.’ No sooner had he pulled her out into the corridor and turned back the way he came, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

  Elisha, the precocious little girl they had encountered on the coach to Stevenage stood perfectly still, peering up through her brown locks of hair, focussed on them both with cold calculation.

  ‘We need to find another way out.’

  ‘Kaleb?’ Josie tugged at his arm.

  ‘It’s the Ceron.’ He glanced over his shoulder and noticed a large window at the other end of the corridor. ‘This way.’ Kaleb took Josie’s hand and they sprinted across the psychedelic carpet. Kaleb yanked at the frame, the lock popped and the window slid open; below, was a steel fire escape. ‘Watch your head.’ Kaleb helped Josie outside and lowered her down. He looked back. Elisha was halfway along the corridor.

  The steps to the fire escape led directly into the car park. Kaleb helped Josie over to the hire car, fumbling for the keys, expecting Elisha to appear from the building at any second. ‘Come on, come on,’ he whispered to himself. He found the right key and clambered inside. Josie fell into the car seat, catching hold of Kaleb’s wrist.

  ‘What about the Hatchets? They’re still inside, aren’t they?’ she said.

  ‘They’re still inside, but no one can help them now.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘We have to get out of here before that thing can track us.’

  ‘If it doesn’t already know where we’re going.’ Josie’s remark made Ka
leb hesitate for too long. He turned the key in the ignition and the window shattered, showering them with a confetti of glass. Elisha plunged into the car and caught hold of Kaleb’s arm. As she tried to pull him out, his flesh scraped against the jagged shards in the door’s frame, cutting him open. He managed to start the engine, but the razor sharp glass plunged deeper into his arm as he pushed down hard on the accelerator. The vehicle went into a wheel-spin, launching itself from the car park at high speed, forcing Elisha to let go. They skidded onto the road, took a sharp right, and were free again.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Josie asked.

  ‘My arm – it’s cut pretty bad.’ The pain was clean, but more unbearable for that. He could feel his hot blood soaking through his jeans.

  Josie took off her cardigan and reached across him to feel for his wound. She knotted the sleeve tight around his bicep. With immense difficulty, Kaleb kept his eyes on the road.

  ‘I think this will need stitches. We can’t waste any more time.’

  ‘Can’t you heal yourself?’

  ‘No – ironic, huh?’

  ‘Then we have no choice. Where’s the nearest hospital?’

  Poor Little Rich Boy

  1

  Fairfield, Bedfordshire

  Martha was the first to notice the small retail park. The crude collection of buildings crept up on them. When they reached the wall on the outer edge of the car park, they were shocked to find how busy it was. In spite of the mass exodus north, the people who’d decided to stay put had taken in the news reports of food shortages and were starting to panic-buy.

  Vladimir held his hand out to Jerrico. ‘Give me some money.’

  ‘What for?’ Jerrico asked.

  ‘We need something to eat and drink. You’re probably on every TV station in the country right now. Do you really think it’s a good idea to go strolling down there to do some shopping?’

  ‘Point taken.’ Jerrico reached into his pocket and passed Vladimir a crumpled twenty-pound note.

  ‘I’ll go down there, get what we need and then we’re gone. We need to go back to the trees, stay off the streets,’ Vladimir said.

  ‘I’m coming with you. I need some change for the phone,’ Martha stepped up to him.

  ‘Too risky, the both of us going.’

  ‘I wasn’t asking,’ she replied.

  Vladimir had gotten to know her well enough not to bother arguing. ‘Okay, fine, but you two better stay fucking put.’

  Jerrico nodded. Kate had not even heard him. Like a rescued victim sheltering from a major accident, she stared at the snaking traffic in the distance, Jerrico’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

  ‘Fuck, get down.’ Vladimir rounded up the other three, pushing them over the wall to the car park.

  ‘What the hell?’ Jerrico moaned.

  ‘Just get down before I knock you down.’ Vladimir forced them to dive for cover. ‘Look.’ He pointed over the road to the passing police car travelling at speed. ‘This is exactly why we need to get off the streets,’ Vladimir said. They watched until the police car turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

  ‘Erm, guys?’ Martha said.

  Jerrico realised that Kate was no longer beside him, and was now stumbling across the car park in the direction of the supermarket.

  The three of them raced after her, and then slowed back to walking pace.

  Jerrico stood in her path, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘Kate, where are you going?’

  ‘Juicy Pops,’ she replied vacantly. She shrugged him off so she could carry on.

  ‘Kate, please.’ He tried again, but this time he didn’t let go; it was a mistake.

  ‘No!’ Kate shouted. She struggled so much that his jacket fell from her and onto the floor.

  Jerrico picked it up and was about to block her again, when Vladimir grabbed tight around his arm. ‘Your crazy girlfriend’s already getting us noticed. It’s best just to let her do her thing quietly until we get what we need.’ Vladimir whispered through gritted teeth.

  ‘Fine, but I’m not leaving her with you,’ Jerrico replied.

  They reached the entrance and the automatic doors slid open to reveal the melee that unfolded within. Shoppers fell over each other to get supplies. Food and packaging littered the floor, and the members of staff who weren’t desperately operating the till points gazed on in disbelief.

  ‘Keep her quiet. I’ll be two minutes, max,’ Vladimir said. He moved straight for a set of refrigeration units near the window, collecting several bottles of water, and then on to the cold snacks section.

  ‘Juicy Pops.’ Kate set off again and Jerrico followed. She walked over to the shelving attached to the side of one of the till points to retrieve a handful of coloured lollipops. Jerrico saw the blankness in her eyes. She allowed him to put his arm around her and lead her to the kiosk that sold confectionary, cigarettes and magazines. Vladimir had a youth who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time by the scruff of his neck, throwing him to the floor. Martha pushed her way between the crowd at the kiosk to pay for the food and water.

  When they eventually stepped through the double doors and onto the car park, Martha was only interested in the telephone fixed to the wall, and demanded some coins from Vladimir. He reached back into his pocket, preoccupied by the vacant look in Kate’s eyes. ‘We’re gonna need to ditch her. Cradleworth’s blown her fucking mind. We may as well be walking around with flashing sirens on our heads.’

  ‘You can ditch me, Vladimir, but I’m not ditching her.’

  ‘You know we can’t do that, hombre. What do you think Celeste’s gonna do when you take her back there?’ Vladimir smirked.

  ‘Vlad? The money.’ Martha still held out her hand, looking anxiously towards the vacant phone. She would have put herself between them, as she did back in Walton, but home and Davy took priority now.

  Vladimir ignored her. ‘What do you think your creature’s gonna do to her? She’ll end up splattered on the walls like your parents.’

  Jerrico stepped closer to him, until his face was inches away. ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Only reason you’re pissed is because you know I’m right. She doesn’t belong with us.’

  ‘Vlad, I need that money,’ Martha insisted.

  A shout, accompanied by several screams of panic rang out across the supermarket’s car park. ‘Jerrico Flynn, you are under arrest. Down on your knees and put your hands in the air where we can see them. That goes for all of you.’ Several shoppers fled from the vicinity of the two unmarked police cars. The plain clothed officers used their vehicles as cover, rifles trained on their suspects.

  Vladimir reached into his jacket for Medusa, and would have opened fire if Jerrico had not grabbed his wrist. ‘That’s an armed response unit, you dickhead. Police in this country don’t carry guns unless they know how to use them. They will drop you in a second.’ Jerrico delivered the kind of cold logic he knew Vladimir would understand.

  Two of the officers moved over to them and cuffed them while the others covered. One reached up to the comm system on the lapel of his jacket and spoke into it. ‘Suspects detained at Sainsbury’s, Fairfield. There’s still heavy congestion on the roads, but we will be en route to the station in minutes.’ The other officers moved into position to surround them. Martha managed another fleeting view of the pay phone on the wall before she was bundled into one of the waiting cars.

  2

  Briaridge Orchard, Bedfordshire

  Evelyn sat in the white manor’s kitchen. It had become her favourite room. She watched all of the trashy afternoon TV, watched the dizzy twenty-somethings presenting the shows as if nothing was wrong in the real world. Since the arrival of the red menace, television producers had opted out of external shots altogether. One of the main news programmes that ran throughout the day had large windows on set revealing a section of London’s docklands. Now, a green screen replaced the view over Canary Wharf and the porcupined back of the O2 Arena. The TV did
not help to calm Evelyn’s anxiety. She worried about her family, worried about the missing first-born, worried whether Uriel had been successful in his search and if he was on his way back to provide some welcome council. The voice she heard out in the field when her Unkindness broke their link with her still echoed through her mind. Could it really be him? she thought. Evelyn saw the news report flash up on screen in the break before the next show. ‘The tycoon, Pascal Ramirez, has now put up a staggering two hundred thousand pound reward for anyone who can provide information that leads to the discovery of his son,’ the reporter said.

  ‘That’s so like him.’ She turned around to see Heven standing behind her. ‘He’s always thought he could fix things by throwing money at them,’ Heven said.

  ‘He seems certain that you are here. How do you think he knows that?’ Evelyn asked.

  ‘He’s a control freak. He likes to have everyone in his pocket so he can push buttons whenever it suits him.’

  ‘What happened between you two?’

  Heven smiled, eyes focussed on the TV. ‘Sure. What difference does it make now.’ He took a seat on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. He placed a cigarette between his lips and hesitated before lighting it. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Go ahead, dear. I used to puff away on those things myself, and I’m not one of those who gives up and then takes the moral high ground.’

  Heven nodded in appreciation, striking a match to take his first drag. ‘After I was born, my mother had a lot of problems. Severe form of post-natal depression, the doctors said. Anyway, she tried until she couldn’t try anymore. Perhaps she just realised she wasn’t cut out to look after a child. By the time I was five she’d left the family home and filed for divorce. After that, I was pretty much cared for by nannies on my father’s payroll.

  ‘A whole team of them couldn’t stop me from falling, though. Apparently, my brain always moved faster than my feet could. I sustained a massive blow to the head from a stone paving slab and was heavily concussed. The results of the scans showed that my brain contained irregular levels of trace amines. Doctors told my father I may be suffering from schizophrenia and referred him to a professor in the field called Verna Daniels. The professor convinced my father to admit me into the Farmer Institute so he could closely monitor my condition and perform valuable research. Not valuable for me, by the way.’ With a shaky hand, Heven took another drag of his cigarette and continued. ‘Good old daddy’s career in business went from strength to strength, and the more time went by, the less he came to visit me. During the tests, Professor Daniels discovered that neural stem cells, which should have been dormant, were awakening in my brain. He realised that the support cells that usually keep the stem cells silent, were actually facilitating their new lease of life. He considered the breakthrough a massive one, but kept it to himself – the fucker didn’t even tell my father, not that he would have paid any attention.