by West, Mark
‘Want to check out a Mercedes with me?’ Eden asks.
‘Sure.’
As Eden moves through the traffic, William’s mind wanders back to the kiss. It’s his first kiss, not counting the time when he was five and a girl kissed him as a dare. Her lips were soft and moist, and sent a million sparks exploding through him. He stares at Eden leaning on the silver car, her figure hypnotising. There is no doubt about him liking her now. He would do anything for her, even drive across Australia for some silly refuge he doesn’t think exists. A sudden hollowness hits his stomach. What if he lost her too? He pushes aside the thought.
I won’t let that happen.
‘What’s wrong, Will?’ Eden asks.
William snaps out of his thoughts and gives her a quick grin. ‘Nothing. Just a shame to damage such a beautiful car.’
Eden chuckles and looks over at the rear of the car. ‘It’s already damaged, you clown.’ She turns back around and pushes down on the window. ‘Give me a hand with this, I think I can slide it down.’
William begins pushing on the glass. There is a loud bang in the distance, sharp and short like metal on metal.
‘What’s that?’ Eden asks apprehensively, peering around.
‘Dunno,’ he grunts. ‘Missed it.’ William continues to push on the glass. ‘I think I’ve almost got this.’
There is another bang, this time louder, followed by breaking glass. It’s coming from the direction they are heading.
William stops pushing on the window and looks at Eden. ‘I heard that.’
The pair gaze out over the vehicles towards the direction of the sound.
‘Too many cars,’ Eden says, straining her neck.
William places his backpack on the ground and climbs on the bonnet of the Mercedes. He clambers to the roof to get a good view over the vehicles. His mouth drops.
‘Infected. Lots of them.’
Chapter 42
Hide
‘What do we do?’ Eden asks, pulling at William’s pants in fright.
Dozens of Infected are moving down the highway, spreading out and examining vehicles as they pass, no doubt searching for food. In the middle of the pack, William can see one of the massive hulks pushing aside cars, its size almost double that of a normal man. Even from this distance, he can see its grotesque rhino-like skin and its bulging muscles that are sharply defined under the brilliant light of the Queensland sun. It’s a nightmare on legs, and an unstoppable one at that.
‘How many?’ Eden whispers.
William crouches down, careful not to be seen as they get closer.
‘Loads. Perhaps thirty or so. They have one of those big ones with them.’
‘How long?’
‘Dunno, a few minutes. They’re checking cars.’ William slides off the hood, wiping sweat from his face. ‘We need to run back to the Jeep while we still can.’
As if things couldn’t get worse, a low moan comes from behind them, deep and full of malicious intent. It is followed by a screech so loud it causes the pair to jump. It’s like listening to nails down a chalkboard.
William steps onto a suitcase and checks behind. ‘Shit, there’s another group at the other end. Six or seven at least.’
Eden begins to shake. ‘Where have they come from?’
‘Dunno, but we need to hide – fast. They’ll be here any moment.’
‘Where?’
The moans of the Infected are growing louder. The barriers on either side of the highway are too high to climb, and most of the cars they checked were either locked or packed in tight. They are trapped.
William looks at the vehicle they just searched. The bags are now sprawled on the road.
‘Let’s hide in the boot. They won’t check it if we keep it locked.’ He taps the long, sharp kitchen knife on his hip, knowing if it comes to it, he is ready to fight. ‘We can get in through the rear seats.’
Eden gives him a worried look. ‘I dunno. What if we get trapped?’
‘We don’t have a choice.’ He grabs her arm and pulls. ‘Now c’mon. They’ll be on us soon.’
The pair keep low, almost crawling across the burning bitumen. William can hear the Infected marching towards them like an army. It’s the hulk that scares him the most. It’s still pushing vehicles aside in its path. The sound of tearing metal churning the contents of his stomach. If he dies, he wants it to be quick.
When they reach the car, William snatches up handfuls of clothes and stuffs them back in the open bags.
‘Give me a hand. They’ll know someone is here if they see this.’
Eden grabs anything she can find, and soon the bags are repacked. William zips them shut and tosses two in the front seat, including the ones on their backs.
‘We can place our packs in the back to cover the armrest. That way they shouldn’t check.’
He leans into the car and folds down the centre armrest to reveal a dark, empty boot.
‘Quick, climb in.’
Eden pushes back her tangled sweaty hair, revealing a face full of tears behind the oversized sunglasses. William squeezes her shoulder. ‘We can do this.’
‘But I—’
There is another piercing screech. It echoes around them, causing birds to squawk in protest. Eden is still standing by the door. William moves closer to her, knowing he must convince her to get moving. They are running out of time. He doesn’t think and leans in, kissing her on the lips. The kiss feels just as wonderful as the first.
‘You got this.’
Eden touches his arm, tenderly. ‘You’re so brave.’ She kisses him again, this time cradling his head in her hands. He can taste her salty tears. Then she breaks off and gets in the car, crawling through the tight space between the seats and disappearing into the boot.
‘You okay?’ He asks, leaning into the back of the car. It’s pitch-black inside the boot and he can’t see her at all.
‘It’s tight, Will. How will you—’
William shuts the small flap and seals her off. He places the remaining bags on the back seat, careful not to cover the flap so that Eden will be able to escape when the horde passes. Anyway, by that time he’ll be back.
He hops out of the car and whispers into the boot, ‘Sorry Eden, I won’t fit. I’ll see you soon.’
Guilt settles on him as he sneaks away. He can hear sounds of distress from the boot before Eden eventually goes silent. He doesn’t like what he has done, but knows he has no choice. Bony and thin as he may be, there is no hope of the pair squeezing in together.
He can see the Infected now, heads moving between the cars – searching. William draws his knife and belly crawls to an old work truck, its panels riddled with rust. He stops beside it, knife shaking in his hand.
Where now?
Something scrapes across the bitumen on the other side of the truck. His body goes tense. He peers over the steel tray, spotting the deformed face of an Infected bob past. He ducks back down and looks under the truck. Worn shoes are dragging along the bitumen. William holds his mouth, preventing himself from screaming. He’s too late.
There is a groan from behind. William dives under the truck and a moment later more feet drag past. They’re everywhere.
William watches with terror as Infected begin to stagger past, one after the other. He shimmies along the ground and tucks himself behind a wheel, shaking with fear. He knows any moment they may spot him. He can hear metal being compressed and knows it’s the hulk on the warpath, no doubt coming right for him. All William can do is pray it doesn’t flip the truck and crush him. But if he has to die, maybe that’s not a bad way to go.
When he was just eight years old, William had been close to death. He had contracted a virus that had him hospitalised for three weeks. Doctors gave him a fifty-fifty chance of survival. His mother sat by his bed every minute of those three weeks, holding his hand and telling him everything was going to be alright. If only she were here with him now; he could use some company.
Countless I
nfected stumble past: dozens of feet now blending into one. Some are barefoot, skin blistering on the scorching hot tarmac. One Infected has a missing foot and walks on the stump as if nothing is wrong. But the kids are the biggest risk. They are short and nimble, scanning about like raptors, and only missing him because the tyre he is hiding behind is so big. So far, it’s his saviour.
William holds his breath as another group slinks past. He can still hear the hulk smashing a path of destruction. It seems to be going on forever. If he is to die today, he would rather die sooner than later. It’s stinking hot under the truck and he has to pee.
Elephantine legs pound the pavement. The hulk is only metres away. It stops just before it reaches the truck and bellows into the air. Vibrations run through William’s body. The next second, the hulk slams a foot into the car next to William. It compresses the side panel as if it were made of plastic, spraying broken glass onto the road and under the truck. It then slams the damaged vehicle into the next one, causing the ground to shudder.
William’s bladder releases in fright, and he feels the warm liquid swell and spread out from his groin.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
The hulk takes another step and slams the next vehicle into the barrier. It’s heading towards Eden and there is not a thing he can do.
Chapter 43
You got this
The hulk passes. The herd is thinning. Fewer and fewer Infected stumble past. William has no idea if Eden is alive but knows he must check on her the second it’s safe.
He looks around in every direction, hopeful he can get out at any moment. It seems clear, and he begins dragging his body from behind the tyre. A pair of blistered feet stop beside the truck and William’s nostrils fill with the smell of raw garbage.
The Infected shifts its weight and begins moving up and down beside the rear tray. William tucks himself back behind the tyre, wondering what the creature is doing, wondering if it can smell him. He stares in horror at the pool around his legs and the small river that has trickled its way to the back of the truck only centimetres from the Infected’s feet. How stupid he and Eden were to think they could get to Brisbane undetected. How stupid he was allowing Eden to convince him everything would be okay. He should have listened to his intuition.
I shouldn’t be here.
The Infected makes a hocking noise – the sound of phlegm gurgling up from its chest. Another Infected appears and begins to moan, drawing a third Infected to the truck. William’s heart thuds behind his ribs, making him woozy and light-headed, as if he is about to pass out. All around him everything is spinning.
The two new Infected moan and step towards the truck, feet dragging, legs stiff. They are the slow ones: dumb, but violent. He may have a chance to outrun them. He is about to make a break for it when in the distance there is that familiar screech: the sound of one Infected calling for the others. He has heard it plenty of times over the past year.
William can see the feet of the two Infected closest to him shifting, as if preparing to walk away. They turn and stagger off, responding to the call. Relief washes over William. But there is still the issue of the one that is remaining.
William watches as it begins to creep around, tapping the sides of the truck as it moves.
Tap, tap, tap …
William remains behind his tyre, listening to its ragged breathing. It seems odd to William how they still breathe, yet only die if the head is destroyed. He waits and watches, knife ready.
Tap, tap, tap …
William’s body is aching terribly, and his pants are stiff and uncomfortable. What he wouldn’t do to stretch out and eat a sundae. Man, he misses sundaes – the cold feeling of ice cream melting on his tongue.
Tap, tap, tap …
The tapping is making William nervous.
It knows I'm here.
Tap, tap, tap …
He can feel his muscles tighten further with every tap. He’s dehydrated, and the road is one big electric blanket that’s set too high and is sapping his energy. If only he could stand.
Tap, tap, tap …
Go away! He wants to yell.
Tap, tap, tap …
William closes his eyes.
Please leave me alone.
Tap.
William keeps his eyes shut tight. He can feel the knife in his hand, yet he isn’t in that horrible world anymore. The cramps ease.
They are not there; you are not here.
He repeats the words over and over in his traumatised mind. The emotional roller coaster is breaking him slowly. He is like an egg, cracking apart, ready to expel its yolk.
‘You’re stronger than this’ his father would say, ‘You’re my son. My son doesn’t give up.’
His father is standing beside the soccer field, black and white ball in hand. His father passes him the ball. ‘Make the shot. You got this.’
William turns and walks back onto the field. His legs feel like jelly and his arms shake as they grip the ball. An older boy, perhaps eleven or twelve, is crouched in the goal like a frog, palms up, waiting. He is glaring at William. William places the ball down on the penalty line.
The boy looks at the ball and then up at William. He curls his lip and mouths the words, ‘you suck’. It rattles William all the way to his nervous belly. He glances towards his father at the edge of the field.
His father gives him the thumbs up. Everyone around is watching. William can see his team waiting anxiously on the sideline. A few give him nods of encouragement.
‘Aim for the corner. It’s your best chance,’ his coach tells him. ‘You got this, William.’ Those same words as his father’s – you got this.
William takes a step back, feet positioned.
Run and kick the ball towards the left – simple, he tells himself.
But he can’t move. The goalie looks at him with his stupid flat-faced grin and rolls his eyes, saying something under his breath.
‘Kick the ball already!’ someone calls.
Immediately his father calls out, ‘You got this, William!’
There is laughter.
The referee walks over and places a hand on William’s shoulder. ‘Are you okay, son?’
William doesn’t look up and nods. ‘Fine.’ But it’s a lie. He is petrified and hates attention. Most of all he hates being relied on.
‘Okay. One minute left.’ The referee takes a step back.
He looks at the scoreboard. One all. No time left on the clock.
The goalie straightens up and looks at his team, arms crossed, shaking his head. The sight makes William mad. He takes a step towards the ball when the whistle blows.
‘That’s time. Draw!’
People boo with disappointment and then hiss. William’s team yells at him. The other team is cheering with delight. William’s legs begin to burn and the ball flashes in and out like a hologram. His entire body begins to ache at once. He shuts his eyes, trying hard to drown out everyone’s disappointment.
You got this, William.
The same words repeat in his mind, over and over. He wrinkles his nose, aware of a smell. It stinks bad. Then he hears breathing, heavy breathing, and it’s not coming from him. He opens his eyes and looks up from between his legs.
‘Oh, shit!’
An Infected is watching him. It’s crouched down with hands gripping the underside of the truck, and breathing on him. William can see every indentation and scar on its repulsive face. It’s hideously ugly. His hand tightens around the knife.
‘Get lost!’
William thrusts his knife into its eye, piercing it like a marshmallow. The Infected crumples to its knees and its head lolls to the side with the knife projecting from its eye socket. Once it had been a man, perhaps a father just like his. Now, it is a corpse.
You got this, William. This is your life now. No more regrets.
Distant screeches break the silence. William turns to the body, kneeling on the road.
‘I need to h
ide you.’
He grabs its shoulders and lays it out flat, cracking its head onto the surface of the road. The knife falls free, taking with it the eyeball. The sight makes his stomach turn. He begins dragging the body under the truck, careful not to get any of the red and black blood on his clothes. He’s pretty certain only a bite can affect him, but the blood still worries him, the ‘what if’ lingering in his mind. What if it gets in a cut? What if it has mutated? What if …
Once the body is behind a wheel and out of sight, William hides back behind the tyre again. He can hear footsteps approaching – perhaps a few.
Two Infected arrive. He holds his breath, watching their feet circling a car just metres away. He can hear them sniffing the air in search of their friend – the very same one whose blood is trailing like a river to the truck. It won't be long until they spot it. He needs to escape.
Slowly, William backs away, eyes fixated on the busy, searching feet. As he creeps further away, he catches sight of one of the Infected checking the undercarriage of a Mini. It’s a female, no older than him, with a round face that looks to have been smashed by a bat. She is wearing a summer dress with a pattern of yellow flowers. It’s smeared with blood and stained with what looks like faeces.
William has always wondered how they do their business. Do they just go like regular people, or does it just fall out? And what if they have pants on? How does that work? The thought makes him shudder and bile rises to his throat. Best not to think about it.
Worming backwards, William reaches the end of the tray. The Infected have moved onto the next car. He waits, keeping an eye on the pair, before rolling to his stomach and crawling away.
The next vehicle is lower than the truck. William forces himself down to the ground, face hard against the road before passing under and moving onto the next. When he is at least three cars away, he checks his surroundings, not sure where the Infected have gone.