Jackson Kidd | Book 2 | Evolving

by West, Mark

  ‘Ouch!’ She rubs gingerly at her shoulder and then at a bump on the back of her head, feeling the crusted blood.

  She closes her eyes, trying to recall her last moments before waking.

  I was running. But why?

  The truck hisses again, but this time Victoria is ready and holds onto the mesh. A moment later it turns onto another road.

  Think! Think! Why was I running?

  The truck rounds more corners, slowing almost to a crawl. The man above begins shouting, his words muffled and disjointed. The next second there is the sound of gunfire – three shots. Victoria cowers. An image flashes across her eyes – the void between the buildings.

  I killed one of them.

  Memories flood her thoughts almost at once. The last and perhaps the most terrifying.

  Jackson is infected. He is one of them.

  She shrinks to the floor as the truck starts to move again. Her body is shaking, her palms sweaty and cold. It is all making sense now: how they had managed to always stay out of trouble; how Jackson knew when they were coming. A sixth sense, he had told her. They had joked about it, sometimes even laughed at how stupid the Infected were. Victoria kicks the side of the cage.

  Damn you, Jackson. Damn you.

  She places her face in her hands and begins to cry.

  Why didn’t you tell me?

  The truck’s horn bellows, loud and deep. The man above shouts and, to her surprise, someone calls back. Victoria looks up. Bush now surrounds the vehicle: no houses, only a dusty road.

  ‘Park it out back!’ someone yells.

  The truck turns and pulls into what looks to be a dry and rocky paddock. A short, bald man dressed in camo is waddling along behind, shotgun under his arm. He catches Victoria staring and returns a creepy smile. His grin sends her senses into a mad tingle. He reminds her of a hillbilly – the ones out west that marry their cousins. She looks away.

  The truck comes to a halt near an old gum. Thick branches litter the ground and Victoria contemplates getting one the moment she gets out. That is if she isn’t shot first.

  Her cage rattles and the canvas is removed, exposing her to the radiating heat from the blinding sun.

  ‘Time to move,’ the guard barks.

  Victoria blinks until her eyes get used to the sun.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  A teen steps up to the cage, taking her by surprise.

  ‘Sit back against the cage while I unlock the door,’ he demands.

  Victoria slides back along the metal base, watching the teen unlock the door and wondering how many there are. The boy doesn’t look a day older than nineteen. His purple hair is spiked into a mohawk and his face cleanly shaven, showing off his angular jawline. Victoria is drawn to the many coloured tattoos down his muscular arms: pictures of rock bands she recognises.

  ‘You like Blink-182?’ Victoria asks, hopeful that if he is friendly, she may have a chance to escape.

  The teen peers up at her briefly before looking away, seemingly uncomfortable with her question.

  ‘Shut up girly,’ another voice snaps viciously.

  The man in camo steps over and points a gun in her direction while the boy opens the cage door.

  ‘Slow and steady now. Nothing stupid.’ He looks up at the guard who is still standing on her cage.

  ‘Where did you find this little one then, eh?’

  ‘In one of the houses down south.’

  He makes a hocking sound and spits, hitting Victoria in the head. She wipes her hair and is horrified to see slimy, green mucus between her fingers. She gags.

  ‘Little bitch killed Derek,’ the man snarls. ‘Shot him in the chest.’

  ‘Did she, now.’ The camo man scowls. His eyes drill into her. ‘You killed Derek, eh?’

  ‘He attacked me!’ Victoria bites back. ‘He was trying to kill me!’

  The teen says nothing and walks out of view, coming back a moment later with a long aluminium pole. It is about three metres in length with a circular rope attached at one end. Victoria recognises it to be an animal lasso farmers use to loop around the neck of cattle to guide them into a slaughter pit.

  He pushes the looped end into the cage with an expressionless face. Victoria kicks out frantically as it edges closer, batting it to one side.

  ‘Hold it steady boy,’ the camo man snorts.

  ‘I’m trying.’ The teen sounds frustrated.

  Victoria continues to kick out, preventing it from getting too close.

  ‘Get away from me you freak!’

  The man above begins to laugh. ‘You couldn’t catch a woman if she was dead, Travis.’ He stomps on the cage in delight, clearly enjoying the show.

  ‘Give it me.’ The man in camo snatches at the pole. ‘Get the tranq gun. Stop wasting my time. I have shit to do.’

  Travis disappears, returning minutes later holding a long black rifle. He guides a tranquilliser dart with a fluffy pink end into the chamber and pulls back the bolt.

  ‘What’s that for?’ Victoria shrieks. The men ignore her.

  Travis hands the gun to camo man. ‘Here, you do it.’ He backs away.

  ‘Pussy.’

  He turns to Victoria, lip curled. ‘This will teach you girly.’ He raises the gun. ‘Nighty, night princess.’

  There is a pop and Victoria feels a sting just below her hip. She glances down, eyes now feeling dizzy. A fluffy pink caterpillar is attached to her leg. There is a rush of numbness creeping across her body and swelling in her head. It feels relaxing.

  Why are you on my leg, little thing?

  She blinks a few times and her world melts away.

  Chapter 36

  An address

  It doesn’t take long for Amy to backtrack to where she first saw the truck. The dead Infected are still lying on the road baking in the sun and are now covered in a colossal tower of buzzing flies.

  She begins retracing the tracks of the truck, following the dusty trail back to a large construction site, where she discovers a dead Infected in the entrance to a passageway, along with another man. She follows footprints leading up a set of concrete stairs into a building. A pool of blood is on the floor, fresh and recent.

  To think, Victoria was this close to me.

  Frustration simmers inside, grinding at her thoughts. She searches the large open space, unsure why Victoria had been there. Nothing is making sense until she finds some empty cans next to two beds in a corner, the beds no more fabulous than the ones she had seen in the service station months back, just a cardboard base with a stained blanket.

  Amy crouches onto her haunches and pokes the cardboard like a detective.

  ‘A clue, Jackson. Where is the clue?’

  She removes a torch from her bag. There is almost no light coming through the dust-covered windows. She clicks it on, scanning the floor and wall methodically, finding nothing but concrete and dust. With a grunt of disappointment, she sinks to the floor and leans against the wall, her mind spinning with unanswered questions.

  Her damn back is killing her, so she removes two more pain killers from their foil wrapping and throws them into her mouth, washing them down with water, and closes her eyes, wishing she had not stuffed around gathering supplies.

  If she were Jackson, where would she go?

  Her eyes flash with insight.

  He would find the biggest, best and safest house for Victoria.

  She chuckles, then frowns – there are a lot of big houses in Surfers. Where to start looking?

  Amy checks the time on her watch – 6.15 pm. The Mantra seems too far to venture back to. Besides, she knows she will need to come back here in the morning, why not wait it out in case Jackson comes back.

  She stands and walks over to the large entry door, knowing it’s the only way in and out. If she’s staying the night, she needs to get the place secure.

  Amy takes one last look outside, taking in the hazy, early evening sky. The wind has died down, and in the distance, there is a
flash from the clouds – a storm on its way. She closes the door, pushing across a conveniently placed set of drawers, knowing it’s deliberately been placed there.

  ‘And thank you for—’

  Her voice catches and her eyes fix on the door. In the centre, initials have been scratched into the surface of the metal – ‘JK’. She runs a finger over the letters, feeling the indentations before tracing down to the writing below – an address.

  ‘No way!’

  Amy runs back to her bag and pulls out a small notebook and a pen. She goes back to the door and writes down the address.

  ‘Jackson, you genius.’

  Tomorrow she will get a map. Tomorrow she will find her friends.

  Chapter 37

  Temptation

  Victoria has been gone for over twenty-four hours, and I have no idea what the hell to do. Baby Isabelle is asleep in my arms, finally, after keeping me up most of the night. My eyes feel like they are about to fall from my face and I have a damn headache.

  I checked out the front six times during the night. Every time with the same result – nothing. The only change today is that it’s raining, nothing substantial, just a light shower. But it’s enough to send the humidity skyrocketing. I wish I could turn on the air-con.

  I groan in frustration and Isabelle disturbs, waking with an ear-piercing scream. It triples the pounding in my head.

  ‘Shhhhh…’ I say, jiggling and cooing her to sleep.

  I know I’d be out there in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for her. Resentment burns inside. I force it away quickly. I love her and remind myself it’s not her fault she was born into a cruel world. I glance around the room, catching sight of the playpen in the corner and thinking I could perhaps leave her for an hour. I scoff at the idea. Knowing my luck, the moment I leave the place it would be attacked by Infected and I’d come home to a corpse lying in the corner – or an Infected child trying to eat me.

  I think about the infection coursing through my veins. If sperm passes on DNA, and I was infected before ... I glance at the knife on the bedside table. I could just find out and end this unknowing once and for all. Isabelle’s eyes flutter and she makes little sucking movements with her lips.

  Where would I do it? Arm? Leg?

  I pick up my knife, hypnotised by the unknown. I need to find out. The urge is so extreme I’m shaking. If Isabelle is infected, then what? I move back the blanket. She is dressed only in a nappy.

  I hear Victoria’s voice: What are you doing, Jackson?

  Before I would have turned and said ‘nothing’, but now I’m not so sure. How could I possibly explain what I’m about to do?

  Isabelle’s legs kick as she stirs at the sound of my breathing, which is deep and ragged, like a creature possessed.

  But Victoria isn’t here, Jackson. She may already be dead.

  The blade I have chosen is Lincoln’s Gerber Bear Grylls Ultimate. A fitting choice. Lincoln always wanted a girl named Isabelle. I stole the name from him. But not out of spite, more because he would have been happy for me to use it – a little reminder of what I lost.

  My instincts are edging the knife towards Isabelle’s fragile skin. It hovers just above the knee. A little nick would draw enough blood. I just need to control myself when it flows. I should have fed before I did this.

  I breathe in the humid air and press the knife lightly on her skin, holding it flat so that I don’t break the surface. My eyes focus on the tip.

  ‘What are you doing, Jackson?’

  I freeze. I feel the blood drain from my face. I don’t dare turn. This can’t be real.

  ‘Jackson, what the hell!’

  The voice is too real to be my imagination.

  I pull back the knife and quickly cover Isabelle with the blanket.

  I turn slowly. It can’t be …

  ‘Amy? What the fuck are you doing here?’

  Chapter 38

  A walking ghost

  Amy is dripping wet. Her hair is a mess and longer than I have seen it before. But it’s her and she’s alive.

  She takes a step towards me, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe I found you.’

  ‘But—’

  She cuts me off.

  ‘Is that?’ She is staring wide-eyed at Isabelle.

  While Amy isn’t looking, I slip the knife into my pocket. Thank god I didn’t cut, Isabelle.

  ‘This is Isabelle.’ I present her like a trophy, unsure of what is going on. ‘Is this a dream?’

  Amy begins to laugh. ‘It feels like it.’ She takes a few steps, leaving wet footprints behind.

  ‘I just mopped that.’

  We both laugh and hug, ecstatic to have found each other. I’m more surprised at seeing her alive than when I told the Infected to go away. If only Victoria were here to enjoy this moment.

  Amy lightly brushes her hand across Isabelle’s forehead. Isabelle’s eyes open momentarily before closing again.

  ‘She is beautiful, Jackson. She has her mother’s eyes.’

  ‘Victoria is missing,’ I blurt out.

  I notice the giddy feeling in my gut again as I spit out the words. It’s been lingering there all day. Is it guilt?

  Amy shakes her head. ‘I found her. She’s been taken.’ I can hear the pain in her voice, see it in her eyes. ‘She was in a cage on the back of a truck. It was heading north. I couldn’t—’

  I stamp the floor. ‘Shit!’ I feel a rush of rage. ‘I told her not to go out, God dammit!’

  Amy picks up Isabelle, who has begun to cry. ‘We have to find her, Jackson.’

  I reach out for a chair and throw it across the room. It hits the wall then falls to the floor leaving an impression in the plaster.

  ‘She just left Amy. She just bloody went out and thought she would be okay.’

  Amy puts Isabelle down in her cot and comes up to me. She grabs my hands. ‘We will find her, Jackson. We will.’

  I shove her away in annoyance. ‘She’ll be dead before we have a chance.’

  I tell Amy about the place with the bodies under the house, how they cut people up, how they use them like farm animals.

  Amy’s face shows disbelief.

  ‘This man, the one you say chased you out the house. What did he look like?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Tall, thin, dumb-looking goatee.’

  ‘Shit. Sounds like the guy I saw – the one on the cage I was telling you about.’

  I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself.

  ‘You said they were heading where?’

  ‘Brisbane … Well I think they were. They headed north.’

  Isabelle wriggles about in the cot. I watch her for a moment, trying to calm my heart rate, trying to think. I’m about to lose my shit and do something stupid. I need to focus.

  I turn to Amy. ‘You look like you need a shower and a decent meal.’ I point to the door. ‘Spare clothes in the back room with hot water waiting. No use in heading out now without a plan.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You know I’m right. Get sorted and I’ll start gathering my things. We can chat some more soon.’

  Twenty minutes later, Amy comes downstairs with a bag slung over one shoulder. She is wearing a leather jacket and some biker shorts. They ride high up her legs. A deep scar runs down her thigh. She catches me staring.

  ‘Got plenty more of those on my back if you want to see them.’

  I turn away. ‘Sorry, it’s just—’

  ‘How did I survive?’

  ‘You saved us, Amy. I owe my life to you.’ I look at Isabelle. ‘We all do. But you were—’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ I scoff and give her a sheepish smile. ‘I’ll never forget how you were willing to sacrifice yourself for us.’

  Amy pulls something from her bag and places it on the table. ‘This saved me.’

  I look at the gun in amazement. ‘I heard the gunfire the moment we entered the bush and thought …’

 
‘Trust me, I thought about shooting myself. But what satisfaction would I have had if I was already dead? They would have won.’

  We both chuckle and I pick up the gun, examining it. ‘So, you shot and ran? Where did you go?

  ‘I looked for you guys. Everyone else I knew was dead. I found your clues, the trails you left.’

  I frown. ‘Clues?’

  ‘Yeah, the writing on the wall in the service station, the address in the abandoned warehouse. That’s how I found you.’

  ‘Goddamn, Victoria.’ I slap the table. ‘She wrote the address.’

  ‘But I thought …’ Her words trail off.

  ‘Nah, that was her. She did it just before we bugged out. She wrote down the address in case we got separated. It was her way of knowing how to find the place if we ever got lost. We both knew how to get to the construction site, but locating a house is a lot trickier.’

  ‘Huh?’

  I shrug. ‘Surfers seemed like a maze. She figured it was the right thing to do. Beats me. This is Victoria we’re talking about.’

  I place the gun down on the kitchen top and get down a tin of pineapple, a bag of popcorn and a half-eaten jar of mixed pickles. ‘Let’s eat and you can tell me more about this truck before we set out.’

  I’m hungry as hell and right now. Amy smells delicious. I need to fill the void before I do anything stupid.

  Chapter 39

  Navy Seals

  That night I lay awake in bed. Amy is in the room next door and Isabelle is in her cot by my side, fast asleep. My mind is in a spin, keeping me awake. I’m trying to decide the best plan of attack for tomorrow. There was no point heading out right away; it was just too dark and rainy.

  After hours of discussions, we have come up with a single idea. Take a vehicle and head north. That’s it. No other plan. It’s a rubbish idea, but it’s all we have. It’s as simple as that, because there are no other clues as to where Victoria is being held captive.

  We will take the Range Rover parked out front, head to where Amy last saw them and drive about like idiots, searching for anything out of the ordinary. The issue is, everything in this apocalyptic world seems out of the ordinary. Plus, we’ll have Infected following the engine noise.