by Aline Riva
Then Marie turned her head and saw Flossie standing in the cave mouth.
“Wait there,” she said softly.
Flossie looked at her curiously and then went inside, wandering over to observe the scene of carnage. She stood over David, who sobbed again as he kissed Tara's face, then gently laid her down on the floor of the cave.
Through his blurred vision he saw Flossie, and he spoke up as his voice trembled.
“Tara's gone,” he said, “Dead...she died...”
Flossie knelt down on the floor, leant over Tara and sniffed, wondering why she didn't smell like Tara any more. Instead she smelled like food...
“FLOSSIE, NO!” David cried in horror as the child carefully dipped the pointed end of the icky stick into Tara's exposed brain, pulled it out again and tasted the end of the stick.
“No!” he said again, his eyes blazing with rage.
Marie grabbed Flossie by her jacket, tugging her back from the corpse.
“No,” she said quickly, turning the child around to look at her, “We don't eat our friends, even when they are dead, I know it's hard for you to understand, but not this one, okay?”
Flossie looked up at her in confusion.
David was clutching Tara's body one last time, sobbing again.
“It's not her fault she's a mutant, she's got the B Virus,” Marie reminded him, then she led Flossie out of the cave, allowing David some brief, precious time to grieve alone.
Back at the base, Lauren watched in silence as Rick sat at the radio, tears streaking his face. He had tried and tried to reach someone, anyone on the open channel, but there had been nothing. Then when he had sat back and waited, finally a message had come through from Swan to say the gas worked. But knowing there was no word on Flossie had taken away all joy from the victory that promised a fighting chance for humanity against the undead hordes.
“We should radio UK HQ soon,” Lauren said quietly.
“But we have to be sure,” Lois replied, her eyes reddened from weeping, “We need to know it really did work... and maybe when we hear from the Captain again we might find out if Flossie is okay.”
“If we ever hear from her again,” Rick said in a shaken voice.
Then the radio crackled static and burst into life.
“Base – this is Captain Swan... the gas works, I confirm, it works effectively. The battle is over. But most of us are dead. Survivors will be returning via remains of the convoy...”
“And Flossie?” Rick asked.
“I don't know, I'm sorry,” the Captain replied, then the radio call was cut off.
Rick looked to the controls and managed to stay composed as he tuned into the United Kingdom frequency.
“UK HQ,” said a voice on the end of the line.
“This is Arctic Mission Base, mission report confirms the gas works, I repeat, it works. We might just have a chance to win this war.”
“What's your name, sir?” the voice on the other end asked, “You're the man who sent the good news. You'll be in the history books when this is over!”
“Rick Lester,” he replied, feeling not a hint of the victory he had expected, not while his heart was heavy with fears for Flossie, who seemed lost...
“Do you have details of mission casualties yet?” he was asked.
Rick's voice broke up as he blinked away tears.
“They're dead. Most of them are dead,” he said tearfully, then he was thankful that Lauren had stepped in and taken over the controls, to enable him to leave his post and weep on her shoulder as Lois wept too, fearing the worst as they thought of Flossie.
As he held on to Lois, Rick cried softly, letting his tears fall against her shoulder, but while he wrapped in grief he also felt a rising fury as he thought of David and his broken promise. He had a loaded gun in his pocket. Now it was just a matter of time: If David had survived, he wouldn't live for much longer, there was a bullet waiting for him as soon as he stepped back in the base...
Chapter 10: Survivors
The sound of the battle had dropped to silence, punctured only by moans of the dying and wounded living as the dead lay still and staying dead, their bodies smoking and the ground beneath them deep crimson running to scarlet, then at the edges of the bloodstains, the snow turned slushy iced pink. Here and there rivers of putrefied darker blood from the more rotted of the corpses ran almost to black, but human and undead fluids alike were beginning to freeze over, preserving forever the map of the battle field stained in blood.
Broken and torn bodies were scattered about, the living who had met their end forever entwined with corpses of the formerly undead – the bodies would ice up and freeze, this would not only be a graveyard to the fallen on both sides, but a terrible frozen necropolis exposed the the elements, where many of the corpses would forever be welded together by ice and snow, humans and undead, lying where they fell, preserved as if in a time capsule. Very few bodies would be shipped home - most were tangled together in the heart of the valley, now a mass open grave...
“It's over,” Marie said as she stood beside Flossie at the mouth of the ice cave and looked down through the thick haze that was thinning as it rose skyward, “Oh god...they're all dead...”
Flossie looked through the smoke far below, frowning as she thought of all the people who had journeyed to the valley who would not be leaving. They smelled like food now, but she remembered that she was not allowed to eat friends, then she thought again about how they would not get up again, like Tara... She gave a whimper and looked up at Marie, then as she gave a whine Marie put her arm around her, as the mutant child buried her face against her snow coat.
Then she saw movement through the smoke, a handful of military personnel were still alive, making their way through the haze and piles of bodies to search for survivors.
“David!” she called back into the cave, “It's over! We're going back down to help...don't be long, we'll be leaving soon!”
“I heard you,” David said quietly, then Marie and Flossie made their way carefully back down the hillside, into the aftermath of a battle that had seen few make it through to the other side.
The cave was deathly silent save for the odd crack of loose ice as tiny particles scattered down from the walls and the ceiling, the floor was littered with shards of shattered icicles, the bloody one he had used to kill Frazer looked stained purple as the blue light glowed all around. David looked to Justin's body, then to the body of Samantha on the table, then down at Tara, who was still cradled in his arms.
“I don't want to leave you here,” he whispered softly, “Not here, in this place with all this snow and ice and blood...I want to take you home...” Tears filled his eyes as he recalled their last night together. She had told him she loved him and he had told her to go to sleep, little realising he would never have the chance to hear her say those words again.
“I love you!” he said as he drew in a ragged breath and sobbed again, clutching her tightly in his arms, “I'm so sorry, I should have made you stay behind...Oh Tara, Tara...”
He kissed her cold cheek and then gently lay her back down on the floor of the cave, already her skin was taking on the ice blue hue of the Arctic, but this was not the virus...she had not been infected, this was simply the Arctic claiming her for its own, wrapping icy tendrils about her hair and freezing the blood in her veins, turning her lips blue. He knew the cold would preserve her, she wouldn't rot out here – she would freeze and stay iced to her own frozen pool of blood, until the war was over and they came back to ship home the bodies that could be moved...
He wondered what the cold would do to her exposed face, and after putting her hat back on, covering her fatal wound, he took off his scarf, winding it carefully about her face to protect it from the ravages of the frozen elements.
“Goodbye,” he whispered, placing a kiss through the fabric of the scarf that covered her, then with a heavy heart he rose to his feet, turned away from her body and left the ice cave to join the others down in th
e valley.
The Captain was yelling orders to the remaining soldiers.
“Get up the hillside and shoot them, then make your way back to base, the plane is being prepared, there is a ship docked for supplies and equipment to be taken out, we leave by 1600 hours.”
“Shoot who? The zombies are gone!” Jason exclaimed as he peeled off his cracked face mask and blood ran from the cut to his scarred cheek.
“The mutant animals,” she replied, “They won't survive here once the food source is devoured. They'll have the remains of the horde but that's all.”
“But they helped us!”
They both turned around to see David standing there, his eyes red from weeping.
“Round them up, put them back into the cages and we take them back to the UK with us – we need those animals, they're on our side, they hunt the dead!”
A soldier had just taken aim at a mutant lion that was lazing on a nearby hillside, well fed and looking thoughtfully at him.
“Flossie, no!” yelled Marie as she hurried over, but the child had run to the lion, standing in front of it, standing in the aim of the soldier's weapon as she fixed her dark eyes on him defiantly.
It was then David had an idea.
“They need to be rounded up, they'll go back in the cages!”
“We don't have hours to round up lions and tigers!”
“Captain, you don't need to,” he replied, looking to Flossie.
“Stand down,” Swan commanded the soldier, who lowered his gun.
Then they watched as Flossie turned to the hillside, looking up as she made a silent link with the animals who understood her. One by one the lions and tigers bounded down the hillside, tigers in one cage, lions in another. By now Toby's body had been removed from the top of the large lion cage, but some blood remained and a mutant lion raised its head, licked at the blood then made a face like it had just sucked a sour lemon.
“They only feast on the undead,” he reminded her, “Maybe when we get back to the UK we can find a way to give them another diet – rotted meat, perhaps? They will watch out for us. They will protect us while we use the gas to kill the hordes. We should be grateful to them. I say we keep them alive, encourage them to roam freely back home.”
“That could work,” the Captain said thoughtfully, watching in surprise as her men bolted the cages and the animals sat there passively.
Flossie turned to the others and smiled, icky stick in hand as her dark eyes glowed with joy to know her animal friends were safe and going home.
“Well done, Flossie,” David said.
She looked at him with an expression between an apology and a sulk as she recalled how he had stopped her eating Tara when she had turned into food, but David's expression was no longer angry.
“I'm sorry I shouted at you in the cave,” he told her, “You can't help what you did.”
Then he held his hand out to her, and she went over to him and David took the hand of the mutant child and led her away from the carnage, towards the snowy landscape that led to the road, where the truck was waiting for them, as Marie lingered back to help as she watched them go, feeling sure that David's heart had been shattered by Tara's death, but she also felt sure at this moment, all he needed was to cross that ice with Flossie, keeping his promise to Rick to bring the child back safely.
As a sharp, penetrating scream echoed across the battlefield, Captain Tina Swan turned her head to see through the clearing smoke that two of her medics were tending a wounded man, his dark hair was covered in blood, his face was splattered with it...
Then she realised Vince was still alive, and dashed around the edge of the battle field, half stepping on zombie corpses that lay where they had fallen, their bones crunching under her heavy boots as she ran to his side. Vince was staring up at the skies, his pupils like pin pricks as pain washed through his body and took over his mind. A medic had just filled him with morphine but he was still aware of the pain and then as it swiftly faded out, he looked to the hastily treated wound in horror, his left arm ended just below the shoulder, blown off by the force of the grenade.
“I don't...want to...die here!” he said breathlessly as he looked up at the Captain.
Tina Swan knelt down beside him in the snow, smoothing his blood soaked hair from his face as she looked into his eyes.
“You'll make it,” she promised him, “We're flying back to Chile, you'll have more treatment there, then I'll have you put on a plane to the UK. I won't be going home without you.”
Vince gave a sob as he lay back looking up at the Arctic sky partly obscured by the smoke that was still rising and seemed to cling to it, hanging in the air like poison smog.
“Thanks...” he whispered.
“No need to thank me,” she replied, “I'll get you through this, soldier.”
Then as the morphine took over, his eyes closed and Vince knew no more pain.
“It's not that I don't understand about you and brains, Flossie,” David said as he kept a tight grip on her hand and they crossed around and away from the area near the treacherous slope where she had run for the water, “But I was very cross because I really don't want anyone eating Tara, can you understand that?”
She looked up at him as they walked, silently conveying that she was listening.
“I loved her,” he said as he blinked away tears, the cold breeze blew soft but harsh and stung at his eyes anyway, tears only made it worse but he felt immune to pain of the physical kind as his heart ached for Tara.
“I really loved her, Flossie. All I can think about is her, and leaving her here when she should be alive and with me...Oh, why am I saying all this to you?”
Flossie tugged on his hand excitedly as she spotted the road and the truck and something beside it that made her black eyes widen in excitement. Then she tugged away from David's hand and ran towards the tank parked close to the truck on the icy road.
“Flossie!” David exclaimed, “Come back here!”
But Flossie was already across the last part of the ice field, looking up at the tank in wonder as she turned to the soldier guarding it. David hurried through the snow to join her, thinking only of Rick and Lois and how anxious they would be to learn Flossie was okay. The journey back would be a short one now they were back on the road, and with the radios smashed in battle, there was no way of letting them know the good news until Flossie arrived back at base.
As he reached her, the soldier turned from Flossie to David.
“Sir, the mutant girl wants to ride back on the tank. Is that okay?”
He looked to Flossie, then to the guard in surprise.
“What? How could you know she wants to do that?”
He shrugged.
“She asked me.”
“What?” David exclaimed again, in that moment all thoughts of grief for Tara thankfully eased as he looked in astonishment at the girl he had assumed was mute.
“What do you want to do, Flossie?” he asked.
She clutched the icky stick tightly, looked to the tank then to David as she thought about all the things she had been remembering, relearned from the time she had spent living with these people who fed her brains on her stick, then she did something between clearing her throat and giving a soft growl.
“Flossie go … on big car!” she exclaimed in deep, faltering words, her eyes sparkling as she smiled and jumped up and down.
David's jaw dropped. He thought of the months Rick and Lois had been teaching her signs and words to remember...she could learn...or perhaps, she was remembering a fraction of her old life and human interaction had brought it out...He started to smile.
“It's a tank, Flossie. It's called a tank.”
“We don't pull out until the remains of the convoy return,” the soldier added, “The truck's leaving with the casualties. The Captain told us the tank leaves last, with the snow plough and the caged animals, then we head for the ship. Truck's going to the base near the airfield.”
“Then you'll h
ave to make a quick detour back to base,” he replied, “Drop Flossie off first...” he smiled down at the mutant child and patted her head as her brown hair whipped about on the strengthening breeze.
“Enjoy the ride, Flossie,” he said to her, “You deserve a treat. You did good today, very good.”
Flossie looked up at him smiling, then Rick went over to the truck, opening up the back of it as sadness shaded his eyes as he saw a wounded man being brought across the ice, the Captain was at his side and as he was carried, medics tended him, he was in a bad way and had lost an arm in the battle – it was Vince.
“Oh no,” David said quietly as he thought of the young former guard of Mortiz, the man who had changed sides to fight for humanity, he had his whole life ahead of him – a life now forever affected by the battle – assuming he made it, the journey back was a long one...
The others came across the ice soon after, Marie and Jason, a handful of soldiers. They got into the back of the truck, moving over tightly to make room for the man on the stretcher as a medic knelt beside him, making sure he stayed on the portable oxygen as the truck's engine fired into life and they moved out. As they drove along, away from that ice valley of death, no one spoke a word - all were thinking of the fallen dead and wondering how anyone had survived at all, why them, why had they been spared when the others had not? It was a thought that would always haunt the survivors of what would one day be known as the Battle of the Arctic, an event that was destined to go down in the history books...
As they drove back towards base David looked to Jason's bloodied face and Marie's torn jacket soaked with the blood of the fallen, then down at Vince who was breathing through an oxygen mask and had lines set deep into both his arms as the medic who tended him tried to keep him stable, then he turned his head, looking back to the icy landscape for the last time as the base loomed near, looking back towards the valley where in the distance, smoke rose, it still lingered high in the skies, making the clouds swirl sickly yellow as if injected with poison.