The Alpha Plague 4: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  Chapter Forty

  It had only been about ten minutes, but it felt like hours had passed. The moisture from the ground had soaked up through Vicky’s trousers and knickers, and the pair hadn’t spoken since she’d sat down. They stared up the concrete steps at the diseased for the entire time. A jam of faces filled the space, and all of them focused down on her and Flynn.

  “What the fuck is this place?” Flynn finally said, his voice deadened by the soft and damp walls.

  “I don’t know; I really don’t.” With the time down there, Vicky’s eyes had adjusted to the light a little, and she could see better than before. Although crude, she noticed a shelf space had been carved into the wall. It held a book, which she reached out for and grabbed.

  A journal of some sort, she couldn’t be sure in the poor light, so she shifted around and put her back to the stairs. The gaps in the diseased crush up above let through just enough light for her to read by.

  “What is it?” Flynn asked.

  “It’s a diary.” Vicky flicked through the mostly blank book. “Or at least, the start of one.”

  “What does it say?”

  Only a couple of paragraphs long, Vicky read aloud from the book. “We’ve been down here for a couple of weeks now. We have nothing to cover the gate with, so the monsters won’t leave us alone.”

  “Great,” Flynn said.

  “We’ve been trying to dig our way out, but it’s been slow going and we’re exhausted.”

  It took for Flynn to point it out before Vicky saw it. “Look, down there.”

  A tunnel, big enough for an adult to crawl through and no more. Vicky returned to the diary. “We’ve left the broken shovel at the end. I hope no one finds themselves down here, but if you do, I pray you manage to dig the rest of the way through. My wife, daughter, and I are all too exhausted to go on. We’ll leave now. We plan to open the gate and let the diseased take us. We’ll do our best to keep the cage door intact for you. Although I wouldn’t wish any time in this dungeon on anyone, I’m afraid to say you’re safer here than in the house. We used to live there and there’s absolutely nowhere to hide. For that reason, we’ve made a flag. I’ll do my best to stick it in the ground before we’re taken down. To anyone who finds this, good luck and God speed.”

  Once she’d finished, Vicky closed the book and looked up at Flynn. The boy watched her with an open mouth and snorted a laugh. “Well, that’s cheery.”

  But Vicky didn’t respond. Instead, she dropped down onto her front and crawled into the tunnel.

  Although she heard Flynn call to her, “What are you doing?” Vicky ignored him and continued.

  The walls seemed to close in around Vicky as she crawled. Her breaths grew shallow from what felt like a lack of oxygen, but she knew it for the panic it was. Tight spaces did her fucking head in. The damp ground pulled at her clothes and her belt caught some mud and flicked it down the front of her knickers.

  Blinded by the darkness, Vicky only knew of the broken spade when she bumped into it. When she gathered it up and stretched it out, it reached the back of the tunnel. One jab of the spade and daylight cut through the gloom. “My God,” Vicky whispered. The people had given up just as they would have broken through.

  Vicky shifted close to the gap in the wall at the end. She pressed her face into the wet mud and looked out at the diseased beyond. Not many, but because the tunnel came out only about twenty metres away from the entrance to the bunker, there would always be a few stragglers.

  ***

  After she’d crawled backwards down the tunnel, Vicky sat up and drew a deep breath. Once she felt like she’d filled her tight lungs, she turned to the expectant Flynn. “The tunnel’s about twenty metres long, and when I jabbed the spade into the wall at the end, I saw daylight.

  Flynn gasped. “So we’re home free?”

  “I saw a few diseased out there, but I reckon I can dig through so the hole’s big enough for us to escape, and hopefully we can make it out unseen.”

  “Let’s do it then.”

  “I need you to stay here.”

  “What?”

  “Just for the time being. Let me dig the hole so it’s big enough for us to escape from, and you keep the diseased occupied down this end.”

  “I feel like you’re giving me this job to keep me out of the way, Vicky. When will you treat me like an adult? Why don’t you sit here and do nothing while I go and play the hero down the end of that tunnel.”

  “I’m not playing the hero, Flynn.”

  “Whatever. Just do what you need to do down there and you can rely on me to be the good little boy. I’ll sit tight and wait it out, yeah?”

  “Flynn.”

  Flynn refused to look at her.

  “It’s not like that.” But it was and they both knew it. Vicky wouldn’t trust him to dig them out with the diseased out there. She knew how they reacted so much better than he did. He was just a boy after all. Although she wanted to say something else to him, she knew he’d ignore her. She reached out to pat his shoulder and then stopped. She didn’t need to be any more condescending to the poor kid.

  Without another word, Vicky shifted off back down the tunnel toward the sliver of daylight at the end.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Wracked with guilt, but certain in her decision, Vicky reached the end of the tunnel and lifted the broken spade. Flynn would understand when they reached Home. Too heavy-handed with the shovel, and it could fuck everything up. She had to be the one to do it.

  Vicky worked the edge of the tool into the gap that let in the light. With the gentlest of movements, she shifted the blade back and forth slowly to increase the size of the hole. Too quick and the diseased may see them.

  When she glanced back down the tunnel, she saw Flynn’s slumped form at the end. He sat on the bottom stair and looked at the ground while the diseased behind roared and moaned down at him. He’d understand when it all worked out.

  As Vicky worked the gap, more daylight spread into her gloomy world. The wet earth, heady in its muddy reek, fell into a small pile. Fuck knows how the family disposed of all the excess mud when they’d dug the hole originally. They must have had to walk up the stairs and throw it out through the gate.

  ***

  After about ten minutes, Vicky had opened up the hole big enough that the smell of the diseased overpowered the reek of wet earth. A good sign because it meant they could run now. When she peered out of her foxhole, she looked at the diseased as they milled about. With about twenty of the fuckers in her line of sight, who knew how many more hid beyond her vision.

  A barn stood about fifty metres away. Old, wooden, and black, if they could use that for shelter, it would take them one step farther away from the horrible fuckers.

  When Vicky looked back down the tunnel, she made eye contact with Flynn. She raised her thumb at him, and the boy smiled at her. They were home free. They’d make it.

  As quietly as she could, Vicky whispered to Flynn, “Make some noise so you pull the diseased around to your side. Maybe take the spear up there and attack some of them.”

  The boy nodded and walked up the concrete steps. As he moved closer, it whipped the diseased into a frenzy. Not that Vicky could see them, but she heard the sounds of agitation, and she listened to the gate rattle in its concrete frame.

  A glance outside and she watched the head of every diseased within her line of sight prick up. Within no time, they’d all moved away from her side of the hole. They would have to be quick when Flynn reached her. Hopefully, the diseased would watch Flynn disappear, and it would make them more interested in staring down into the den.

  It seemed clear outside of the hole, so Vicky poked her head up and looked around. She withdrew almost instantly. Although she saw some diseased, they all had their attention focused on the gate at the front. So many of them gathered around the hole that Vicky and Flynn wouldn’t be able to fight them; spear or not.

  When she ducked back down, she found Flyn
n staring at her. He held onto his spear with both hands and looked out of breath. “Good work, Flynn. Well done. I think we’ve got this.” With a beckoning hand, she called him toward her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  As Flynn moved up the tunnel, the sound of the diseased chased down it after him. With concentration locking his face tight, he made it about halfway down before it happened.

  At first, just a scattering of mud fell to the ground. Nothing much, and bound to happen in a tunnel like that, right? But even that caught Vicky’s attention, and her heart leaped in her chest.

  Another metre farther down and more dirt fell from the ceiling. Still only a handful, but enough. Flynn had seen it too this time, and he looked straight at Vicky.

  “Come on,” she whispered as she beckoned him toward her again. “You can do it.”

  Flynn picked his pace up and moved up the tunnel with more urgency. When a lump of dirt fell on his head and broke over his crown, Vicky’s chest tightened, and her pulse ran away with her. Before she could say anything else, everything slipped into what felt like slow motion.

  First, the mud behind the boy rained down as the tunnel collapsed. Not only did it block his retreat, but it rushed up and over the back of his legs. Such a large amount of earth, Flynn looked up at Vicky. “I’m trapped. Help!”

  Before Vicky could react, the earth above the boy fell onto his back and surrounded him.

  “Vicky,” Flynn called out and reached for her. A second later, the dirt covered him.

  As much as Vicky wanted to cry out to the boy, she held it in her throat and watched on, her jaw slack, her stomach turning backflips. His outstretched hand remained the only visible part of him, but even that vanished a few seconds later as the earth smothered it.

  Vicky scrambled away from the rush of mud and dirt so it didn’t trap her too. She jumped out of the hole to see the diseased remained focused on the gate. In one final futile attempt, she reached into the hole. The earth had fallen in such a quantity, she’d have to dig to get him out. With the broken spade buried with the boy, she’d have no fucking hope with just her hands. Another glance at the pack of diseased and she backed away.

  The long grass pulled on Vicky’s forward momentum, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on. She didn’t look back. Not yet. Until she got to the barn, she couldn’t do anything else.

  ***

  Once she’d gotten to the barn and ducked around the side of it, Vicky stood with her back pressed into the wood, breathless and with her pulse running away with her. The place seemed free of diseased.

  The tunnel had closed in from both ends and trapped Flynn. No way would he make it out alive. When Vicky glanced back around the barn, she saw more diseased head over to the gate, although they already seemed less agitated. Whatever they had been able to see had clearly gone.

  With a lump like broken glass in her throat, Vicky watched the diseased and the filled-in hole she’d escaped from. No way would Flynn have survived that. No fucking way. Vicky’s world blurred with her tears. If only she’d let him lead the way from the tunnel. He’d now be the one outside by the barn.

  The hot rush of grief turned Vicky’s cheeks damp as she looked up at the sky. Would Rhys and Larissa be looking down at that moment? After all the time she’d spent convincing Rhys to treat his son like a young man, she’d treated him like a child at the very end. Because she didn’t take her own fucking advice, she’d sentenced the boy to death.

  Vicky watched the filled-in hole for a little longer. Maybe a hand would appear through it. Although, if she couldn’t dig into the wet mud, there’s no way Flynn would be able to dig his way out. He was lost, and the sooner she accepted it, the better. She couldn’t fight the diseased to dig his body out. She had to go to Home and come back when the monsters had moved on. She’d find his corpse then and give him the burial he deserved.

  Weighted with depression, Vicky turned her back on the shelter and trudged across the field in the direction of Home, her face sodden with tears, her vision blurred to the point where she could barely see a metre in front of her.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Vicky gripped her telescopic baton so tightly, her knuckles hurt. Exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and broken, she pushed on as she ran down the cracked road. Maybe she could go back to Flynn at some point. She could get safely away and then find some way to return and take his body. His parents would want him to be buried properly. She owed them that at least.

  Like most of the roads she’d travelled—certainly the ones outside of the city—the road she currently ran down looked like it would be claimed by nature soon enough. Before long, the entire area would be nothing but fields of long grass. Although, not the patchwork ridiculousness that used to pass as nature; these would be proper fields, without boundaries and human management. But for now, it still provided something to run on.

  As Vicky jogged—clumsy with every step she took—she scanned the space in front of her. The last sign about five hundred metres back had explained Home was just over the river. Except, she hadn’t seen the river yet.

  When Vicky heard the familiar beat of clumsy footsteps, she spun around. One diseased man, he fixed her with their signature stare—bloody and full of rage—as he bore down on her.

  “Fuck this.” Vicky stopped and turned to face the creature.

  With her baton pulled back, she clenched her jaw and screamed as she swung for the fucker. The balled end of the baton caught it on the top of its head with a crack. A vibration ran down the handle and drove a deep dent into the diseased’s skull.

  Vicky jumped aside to stop the horrible fucker grabbing her as it passed. Before it could turn around, she ran after it and cracked it over the back of the head this time. The blow turned the creature’s legs bandy, and it folded to the floor in a heap.

  When Vicky raised her baton to finish the creature off, she heard it; the call of the diseased. Maybe ten, maybe one hundred. However many had picked up her tail, from the sound of them, Vicky wouldn’t be able to fight them off. She spat at the downed diseased at her feet and took off down the road.

  As always, the diseased had the beating of her, but Vicky pushed on. The sign had mentioned a river …

  Panting from the run, Vicky reached the river as the diseased came into view. The large flowing body of water sat at least ten metres wide, and it had no bridge. Or, at least, no bridge that Vicky could see. Thank God!

  Without a break in stride, Vicky headed straight for the rushing water and leaped into it. She kept a hold of her baton as she swam across the gap.

  So deep her feet didn’t touch the ground, Vicky pushed on across the rushing water, the tide strong enough to carry her with it as she made her way across.

  When she climbed out on the other side, Vicky turned to look at the crowd she’d left behind. They’d gathered at the river’s edge, and all stared across at her. A strange calm occupied their twisted faces; an acceptance that they’d lost this one, despite their desire to get at her.

  As the riverbank on the opposite side filled up, Vicky shook her head and a deep depression tugged on her frame along with her damp clothes. She couldn’t go back for Flynn’s body; it would be suicide.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Soaked from the river, Vicky’s shoes squelched as she walked through the field on the other side. Downwind from the diseased she’d left behind, she may not have been able to see them anymore, but she remained aware of their presence through the soured air that surrounded her. As she walked away, their distant groans and moans accompanied her.

  The fight had damn near left Vicky as she trudged through the long grass. Each step drained her already exhausted frame, and she lost focus several times.

  When she’d climbed out of the river, she’d been in a field, but it didn’t take long for her to find the road again—or what remained of it anyway. The river must have had a bridge across it at some point. The people from Home probably destroyed it on purpose. God knows Vicky would have
done the same in their situation; anything to gain an advantage over the diseased.

  A large sign protruded from the ground. At first, Vicky couldn’t read the words. She was so exhausted, the text sat as a blurred mess for her. After repeated blinks, Vicky rubbed her eyes and read it. WELCOME TO HOME. Unlike the other sign she’d seen with Flynn, this one had been kept in better condition.

  Vicky stared at the sign and swayed with exhaustion. The cold water that soaked her clothes seemed to treble her weight, although the dampness inside of her heart overpowered any physical effects from the river. Now she’d gotten to Home, she didn’t give a fuck. After losing Flynn, nothing mattered anymore.

  The large red arrow on the sign pointed down the road, so Vicky followed it, her heavy footsteps scraping over the rough ground. What would Flynn’s final moments have been like? Hopefully it ended quickly for him. He may have gotten out to be attacked by the diseased, although more than likely, he suffocated beneath the heavy weight of damp earth. Vicky shook her head. It served no purpose to think about it. Flynn had died, and Vicky could have been there instead of him had she trusted his ability. Instead, she sentenced him to death.

  As Vicky rounded the next corner, she saw it. Nothing more than one storey high and about the width of an average house, a box of a building sat in the middle of a field. It had a steel door at the front with a window on either side of it, and grass grew over the entire thing. Were it not for the door and windows, it would have looked like a mound of earth.

  Vicky froze and she stared at the building in front of her. The broadcasts had made it sound like something far grander. A couple of days’ walk and the loss of three people she loved, for this?