The Bug: Complete Season One

by Barry J. Hutchison

  She reached the car, stopped at the driver’s door and reached into her pocket.

  “Shit.”

  Amy patted her jeans pockets. Keys. Where were the keys?

  A shout from somewhere back along the street snapped her head around. Three men were sprinting towards her. They were too far away for her to be able to make out their features, but something about the way they were running flipped Amy’s stomach upside down.

  “No, no, no,” she whispered, swinging her bag down from her shoulder she frantically searched inside. She’d had the keys in her hand, she remembered. She’d put them… where?

  Amy unzipped a side pocket, shoved her hand in, then moved onto the next. She risked a glance back along the street. The men were much closer now, chewing up the ground with big, leaping strides. They were shouting, but the sounds they made were unintelligible. The intention behind them was clear, though, and it was nothing good.

  Tipping the backpack upside-down, Amy shook it. Her clothes and the other stuff she’d packed tipped out onto the ground. There was a chink as the keys hit the sidewalk.

  Amy snatched them up, pushed down the remote locking button and yanked the door open. Jumping in, she slammed the door shut and fumbled to get the car started. The engine spluttered and coughed, as if taken by surprise, then roared in protest as Amy pushed down too hard on the gas pedal.

  There was a crash as the back windshield exploded. Amy screamed, but held herself together enough to lurch the car away from the kerb. She caught a glimpse of one of the men in her side mirror, and for a second thought she could see something wriggling inside his mouth, but then the car picked up speed and she powered along the street, leaving the men behind.

  * * *

  For the next forty minutes, Amy drove around, trying to find somewhere in town that looked safe. She sat behind the wheel of her Golf now, staring through the windshield at the college she’d dropped out of after one semester. Or what was left of the college, anyway.

  An ambulance had smashed through the front doors and was now wedged, half-in and half-out of the entrance hallway. Lights flickered in a few of the school’s windows, but for the most part the place was in darkness. Part of the wall over by the car park was caved in, the roof sagging dangerously down above it.

  Despite the state of the place, Amy thought about going inside. At least the college was still mostly intact, unlike the police station and a few of the other places she’d passed. And where else was there to go? This was the last place in town she could think of.

  She’d driven to her friends’ houses first, but found no-one there. She’d gone past her brother’s school, which had been cordoned off with police tape; the library, which had been on fire; and the high school, where she’d been chased off by a mob of thirty or more people all baying for blood.

  The police station had been worst of all. Three cars had hit the place at high speed, tearing up the lawn before taking out a big chunk of the front wall. The roof had come down, half-burying the vehicles and apparently triggering an explosion that took out all the windows, a few meters of car park, and the handful of cop cars that were parked outside.

  Next to those, the college was in decent shape. Amy was still weighing up whether to get out of the car and venture inside, when her body made the decision for her by slipping the transmission into reverse and slowly backing onto Main Street. Amy stopped and gave the college one last lingering look, before slowly pulling away.

  She rolled along the street, the tears in her eyes and the erratic flickering of the streetlights making it difficult to see. She didn’t know where she was headed, just knew she had to be somewhere else. Somewhere far away from whatever the Hell had happened to Franklin. A creeping panic told her that whatever had happened here must surely have happened in other places, too, but she tried to force that thought from her mind.

  As soon as she pushed it away, though, it came rushing back in, bringing with it all the horrors of the past few hours. Her parents. Her brother. Her house. Amy’s knuckles went white on the wheel and she clenched her teeth together until her jaw ached.

  She started to plan her next few steps in detail, trying to drive all the other thoughts away. She’d continue south on Main Street, cross the railway tracks, then hang a right on King Street and head for the interstate.

  From there she’d go… where? Somewhere. Anywhere. She could make that call when she got to the highway. First she had to—

  The world erupted in an explosion of crumpling metal and shattering glass. The back end of Amy’s car spun violently to the right as something smashed into it, tossing her around in her seat like a rag doll. Everything went into slow-motion. Amy could see loose change and a hairbrush floating past her, like gravity had been switched off. She saw fragments of glass hanging like diamonds in the air, while empty soda cans flipped lazily towards the front windshield.

  Time lurched back to full speed again as the car tipped into a roll. The last thing Amy heard was a high-pitched screeching of metal, then the roof came up to meet her head, and everything went black.

  SOUTH OF NORFOLK, MASSACHUSETTS

  May 25th, 12:29 AM

  Amanda stood in the cabin, anxiously watching the tracks ahead. Since getting out of Boston, things had gone far more smoothly than they’d had any right to. Something bad was bound to happen soon. That was just the way life worked – especially today.

  “How they doing back there?” she asked Mike, who hovered beside her, watching her work the trains controls.

  “Hmm? Oh, they’re OK. I found them a first aid kit. Your son’s patching…”

  “Col.”

  “Col. Your son’s patching him up.”

  “Really?” Amanda said. She grimaced. “Poor Col.”

  In the carriage behind, Col flinched as Jaden pulled a bandage around the wound on his arm. “Too tight,” he hissed. “You’re cutting off the circulation.”

  “We should be cutting off your whole arm,” Jaden said, loosening the bandage and starting again. “Before the virus reaches your brain and zombifies you.”

  “It’s not going to zombify me,” Col insisted, but he shifted uncomfortably at the thought of it.

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Jaden said. “Right up until the point you try to eat my dick off and I cave your head in with a rock.”

  Col blinked. “Why would I go for your dick?”

  “Meatiest part,” Jaden said.

  “Dude, I’ve seen you in the locker room, I know that’s not true.”

  Jaden poked a finger into the hole in Col’s arm, making him yelp in pain. “Jesus. What did you do that for?”

  “Because you deserved it. Those were harsh words, my friend. Harsh words.”

  Jaden tied off the bandage again, exactly as tightly as before. Col smiled his appreciation, then immediately set to work slackening it off.

  Slumping into the seat across the aisle, Jaden gazed through the window at the world beyond. Trees blocked most of the view, but here and there he saw patches of orange. Streetlights mostly, but there was a house burning a few blocks from the tracks. He watched it for a few seconds as the train rolled on.

  “Where are we?” Col wondered.

  “How should I know? I’ve barely left Boston in, like, a decade,” Jaden said.

  “Seriously?”

  “You’re surprised?” said Jaden. “Why? Why would I leave Boston? It’s got everything. The Freedom Trail, the Science Museum, the… what do you call it? With the Nazis?”

  “The Holocaust Memorial?”

  “Yes! All that other stuff and the Holocaust Memorial. Why would I leave?”

  “Have you ever done any of those things?” Col asked.

  “No. No, I absolutely have not,” Jaden admitted. “But I did learn to play the theme to Cheers on the piano when I was in eighth grade, so… you know.”

  Col smiled. “Well… that’s a pretty definitive argument.”

  Jaden went back to looking out of the window
for a while. Col flexed his fingers and watched several small red dots seep through his bandage.

  “Did you notice anything different about Dave Gatward?” he asked.

  Jaden turned from the window and frowned. “Well, he had a beard. That was new. Oh, and he was also trying to break a window with his own face, which I’m pretty sure he didn’t used to do.”

  “I mean, like, did you notice anything different about his tongue?”

  Jaden hesitated. “I don’t know. I had no experience of his tongue before. Did you?”

  “No,” Col said. “I mean, it looked sort of like it had, I don’t know, split apart or something.”

  “Can’t say I noticed,” said Jaden, shaking his head. He leaned into the aisle and looked behind them, like he was worried he’d find Dave Gatward lurking there, waiting to pounce.

  The aisle was clear, but Jaden felt a shiver pass through him all the same. He stood up sharply. “I’m going to get our guns back.”

  Col hurried to keep up as Jaden marched towards the front of the carriage. “Michael! Mike!” Jaden said, beaming broadly. “Col and I would like our firearms back, please.”

  “Uh-uh,” said Amanda, before Mike could open his mouth. “Ain’t happening.”

  “Come on, Mom,” Jaden protested. “What if something happens? What if someone’s trying to kill us?”

  “What if you accidentally kill yourself? Or one of us?” Amanda said, turning away from the window. “Jaden, baby, I love you, but you’re an idiot. And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she said, seeing the expression of shock on his face. “You’re smart – smarter than you give yourself credit for – but on top of that there’s several layers of idiot all piled up.”

  “Well, thanks, Mom,” Jaden said. “Boy, am I glad we came and saved you.”

  “To be fair, you didn’t really save me,” Amanda reminded him. She pressed a hand to his cheek. “But you tried. You set out to save me, and that means everything. You have no idea. I am so proud that you wanted to keep me safe, and that’s why I’m keeping you safe by saying I don’t want you walking around with a gun in your--”

  The train rocked as it smashed into something on the track. Col and Jaden stumbled forwards until they hit Mike, who had wedged his arm across the cabin to keep himself upright. Amanda slammed against the controls, flailed around for a moment, then pushed down the emergency brake lever.

  The wheels screamed as they locked, spraying sparks as the train screeched on for several meters before jerking to an abrupt stop.

  “What the fuck was that?” Jaden asked. His mom shook her head, her dark skin an ashen gray.

  “I don’t… I didn’t see,” she spluttered.

  Col darted back into the carriage and gazed out through the closest window. There was a road a short distance back the way. A car lay on its roof, spinning slowly, one headlight sweeping in circles like the beam of a lighthouse.

  “It’s a car. We hit a car,” said Col. “It must’ve been crossing the tracks.”

  “Oh, Lord. What if they’re hurt?” said Amanda, staggering out of the cabin.

  “I’d say it’s a pretty safe fucking bet,” Jaden said.

  “We should go check on them,” said Amanda. “Make sure they’re OK.”

  “No,” said Mike. “We keep going. There’s no saying they’re not like everyone back at the station.”

  “And there’s no saying they are,” said Col. “We can’t just leave them.”

  “We can, and we should,” Mike insisted. “They’re not our problem.”

  “They’re my problem,” said Amanda. “I hit them. We’re going to check they’re OK. OK?”

  She held Mike’s gaze. At first, he looked set to argue, but then he sighed and nodded. “Fine. Whatever.” He gestured to the door. “Let’s go be heroes. But don’t blame me when it all goes to shit.”

  HIGHBRIDGE, BY FORT WILLIAM, SCOTLAND

  May 25th, 8:15 AM

  “Shh, shh, it’s OK,” Leanne soothed, bouncing Immy up and down in her arms. She paced back and forth in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the window for any sign of Marshall and Daniel coming back.

  Moira - who’d told Leanne only the menfolk had to address her as ‘Ms Hoon’, and insisted she call her by her first name - was in the garden, bent down low to peer beneath the hedge that separated her from the garden next door.

  “Bertie?” she called, sounding deeply annoyed. “Where are you, you little bugger?”

  Immy struggled in Leanne’s grip. She’d stopped wailing, but her bottom lip was turned out and her breathing was coming in shaky sobs that suggested another outburst was waiting in the wings.

  “It’s OK. It’s OK, they won’t be long,” Leanne whispered. Immy blinked both eyes independently and snuffled through her button nose. Leanne smiled down at her. “I’m going to look after you, I promise. I’m going to keep you safe, no matter what.”

  The door flew open and Moira bustled in, stomping her boots on the mat. “I don’t know where he could have got to,” she announced. The boom of her voice brought Immy to tears again, and Leanne went back to rocking and bouncing the baby to try to keep her calm.

  “Any sign of Martin and Daniel yet?” Leanne asked.

  “Not yet. Shouldn’t be long,” Moira said. She rubbed Immy’s head, but that just served to make her scream even louder. “Bless. Are her parents dead?” she asked, brusquely. The suddenness of the question caught Leanne by surprise.

  “Um, her mum is. I don’t know about her dad.”

  “Right. And what about yours?” Moira asked.

  Leanne frowned. “What?”

  “Your parents,” said Moira. “Are they dead?”

  “No. I don’t… They’re on holiday. In Spain,” Leanne said.

  Moira nodded. “Didn’t hear anything about Spain before the telly went down. Did you see Tom Frost on Channel 4? Some bugger caved his head in right there on set. Cameras rolling, the works. Anyway, nothing about Spain. Problems in France, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it were happening there, too.”

  She caught the expression on Leanne’s face, and gave her an almost robotic pat on the back. “Um, there there. I’m sure they’ll be in good shape. Nothing to worry about.”

  Leanne did her best to smile and turned back to the window. A small grey shape stood on the grass, looking back at her. “There’s the dog,” Leanne said.

  Moira glanced out of the window. “Aha! Keep an eye in case he darts off when I open the door,” she instructed, then she strode across the kitchen, pulled the door open and marched outside.

  “There you are, Bertie,” she said. The little dog cocked its head as she approached, its eyes glassy behind its dark fringe. As Moira drew closer, the dog growled somewhere at the back of its throat. Moira scowled. “Don’t you get ratty with me, my boy,” she warned him. “Or I’ll send you packing straight back to the kennels.”

  Bending, Moira reached to pick the little dog up. Bertie snapped at her fingers, gums drawn back over his stubby white teeth. Moira pulled her hand free and looked at it. Blood rushed to a scrape just below her knuckles. She cursed below her breath, then pressed a crumpled tissue against the wound. “Right, that’s quite enough of that,” Moira said. “You are a bad dog, and you know I don’t use that term willy-nilly. I think you need to…”

  Her voice trailed off when she spotted another dog watching her from further across the garden. This one was bigger than Bertie, part German Shepherd, part something else. Moira vaguely recalled seeing it arrive at the kennels a week or so previously, but knew nothing about it beyond that.

  “Well, hello there,” she said, but she stopped talking when the dog’s snout wrinkled up, showing teeth that were far larger and more intimidating than anything Bertie had to offer.

  From over on her left, Moira heard another growl. She turned, slowly. A golden retriever was hunched on the grass, its brown eyes fixed on her, its mouth hanging open. Tendrils of drool hung down from its jaws. The fur on the bac
k of its neck bunched together and stood on end.

  Moira gave a nod. “So, it’s like that, is it?” she muttered. Keeping an eye on the animals, she began to backtrack towards the door. She had barely begun her retreat when the dogs moved as if on some secret cue. They launched themselves across the grass, snapping and barking. Moira stumbled for the kitchen door, which opened as she approached. She fell inside and kicked her way across the linoleum.

  Turning, she caught a glimpse of the German Shepherd preparing to leap, before the door was slammed closed. Leanne hurriedly turned the key as all three dogs began howling and barking and scraping against the wood.

  “It’s OK, I don’t think they can work handles,” Moira pointed out, getting awkwardly to her feet.

  “Not taking any chances,” said Leanne. She finished locking the door, then went back to rocking Immy. “What the Hell was wrong with them? What happened?”

  Moira shook her head. “My guess is the same thing that happened to all those people on the television, and all those people you saw in Glasgow.” She opened a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of red wine, then twisted the cap. “But what that might actually be, I have no idea.”

  “Oh no, no, not now,” Leanne groaned. Moira had placed two glasses on the counter and was sloshing wine into them.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, looking up.

  Leanne nodded out through the window. There, creeping up the single-track road towards the house, was the car that Martin and Daniel had set off in.

  “They’re back,” Leanne said. “And they’re going to walk straight into the dogs. We need to warn them!”

  “That’s one approach, certainly,” said Moira. She picked up one of the glasses, raised it in a toast, then tipped the whole lot down her throat. Then, after wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she picked up her shotgun. “But I tend to employ a more hands-on approach, myself.”