by West, Mark
He can hear the pair milling about in the distance – their grunts and moans, their claws scratching at metal. They are still searching – but where exactly are they?
A moment later, William’s question is answered when one of the Infected begins to howl. It’s not like the other screeches he has heard, this one is low and meaningful, like a cry of warning. They have found the body.
There is another distant cry in response. William doesn’t wait for the consequences and begins to crawl frantically as fast as he can. He moves from car to car, skin raw with cuts and abrasions, the road burning his hands and knees. He hasn’t got a choice. If he stops now, they will find him. He knows they will hunt him until he is dead.
Chapter 44
The Leader
The Infected’s screech rends the air, reaching the horde on the edge of the highway and stimulating one Infected in particular – the Leader.
In response to the cry for help, the Infected shift unsteadily on their feet. The robust Leader walks back through the masses, their numbers frightening to anyone who beholds them. The Leader knocks aside a small child who falls to its knees. The girl looks up and snarls. The Leader glares back and kicks her in the face, launching her backwards. She falls at the feet of a Beast, which raises a foot and crushes her like a bug. The horde falls silent.
The Leader continues, reaching the front of the Horde and peering out at the thousands of banked up vehicles along the scorching road. It snorts and inhales deeply before reacting to its fellow warrior with a call of pain and determination. The slain Infected was a loyal and close friend.
Two emaciated figures emerge from the mass, stopping next to the Leader. One missing a hand, the other blonde with black and broken teeth. Both are hideous and dangerous. The Leader utters instructions in a low rumble and points along the highway. They both grunt in response, disappearing with a sprint. The Leader watches their every step.
The horde begins to part, like Moses and the parting of the sea. An Infected marches through, black dog by his side.
He stops metres from the Leader, eyeing him up and down. The Leader grunts, the Infected says nothing but points north along the highway from where the horde has come. The Leader shakes his head, pointing south. The Leader’s orders are clear – no one must return to the city.
The Infected tries to push past, but the Leader places a hand on his shoulder. The Infected begins to quiver with displeasure, prompting a Beast to step forward. The Leader shakes its head. It alone shall deal with this troublemaker.
The Leader moves to punish the Infected, but something grabs its leg, pulling at its ankle – the black dog. It doesn’t hurt, nothing hurts anymore, but it’s considered weak to be missing a limb. It must remove the dog. The Leader kicks out, but the dog persists, latching on with its strong jaws.
The Infected glances at the animal and then up at the Leader, face impassive. The Leader grinds its teeth in frustration and seeks to swat the dog away. The Infected catches the Leader’s wrist. The pair lock eyes before the Infected swings the Leader by the arm like a toy.
The horde moans with disapproval. All eyes watch the confrontation. The Leader squares up with the Infected, the dog now unlatched and growling at the horde. The Infected is an unsavoury one who roams without consequences. The Leader has seen and dealt with them before and knows he must show his domination. Killing it is the only option.
Chapter 45
Determination
Four Infected are now after William: two women and two men, fanning out in a tactical position, blocking his escape. If William had time, he would attempt to climb over the centre barrier and double back down the other side of the highway in search of Eden. But he hasn’t got time, and to make matters worse, the one with a missing arm just spotted him.
William dives out of view behind a beat-up Civic. The one-armed woman howls, signalling the others. They snort in response and run towards her, feet pounding the bitumen.
William is shaking all over, body sticky with sweat, unsure what the hell to do. He can’t see the end through the sea of vehicles and knows the further he runs, the less chance he has of finding Eden. In his hand is the bloodied knife, the one he killed their friend with, useless against the mob.
He continues to run for his life. There is a large semi up ahead. He wonders if he can get inside. Perhaps there will be a gun like in the movies. The chance of the doors being unlocked are slim, yet it’s his only hope; the Infected are gaining on him.
William grabs the rungs on the side of the truck and begins climbing towards the driver’s door. It’s a big, blue semi with boxed sides, a wide flat window, lots of chrome and covered in artwork. The words ‘Baydon’ and ‘Lockie’ are on the side.
The driver’s door is locked, so William jumps down and runs around to the passenger side, hopeful it’s not the same, and hurriedly begins climbing again. His feet are stumbling up the metal rungs when he turns to see the Infected only a few cars back. The one-armed woman is now running across the top of cars, followed by an Infected man with a ripped shirt and balding head. He seems just as angry and determined.
William pulls back the lever on the door, surprised to find it’s unlocked. He dives through the door and locks it with the silver button. He’s trapped, but safe for the time being.
Frantically, he begins searching the cabin for a weapon. It’s big, allowing him to stand and move around. He finds a bed, mini-fridge and a small pantry stocked with two-minute noodles and some tins of fruit. William opens another cupboard, shining inside with a small torch he uncovered on a shelf, but when he peers inside, he only finds clothes and locks it shut.
He begins checking the higher cupboards, desperate for a gun. Most of them are empty or full of useless items. His hands stumble upon one that is locked.
The door is wide and seems shallow. There is a keyhole in the door, but no key. He continues to check the rest of the cupboards, searching for a key or anything he can use to break the lock, and locates a pocketknife. William jams it into the keyhole, twisting it vigorously. Something clicks inside, and the latch gives way. Ecstatic, he hastily opens the door and looks inside. Bingo!
William removes a pump-action shotgun from the shelf and a box of red shells. The shotgun is black with a chrome tip. He stares at it in disbelief, frightened of its power. The weight alone tells him it’s extremely dangerous.
Carefully, he unlocks the magazine from the bottom, remembering the way Eden did with the handgun. It looks full and he clicks it back in. The sheer size makes him feel powerful.
A noise makes William turn and look out of the windshield. The one-armed woman is on the bonnet, scrambling towards the glass. The amputated arm makes her seem that much scarier. William pumps the gun, picturing Arnold doing the same in all his movies. The feeling is exhilarating, yet terrifying as hell.
‘Point and shoot,’ William tells himself. ‘Point and shoot.’
He is scared shitless and the need to pee is creeping up on him again. ‘Focus on your breathing’ his mother used to say. He does just that and stomps towards the dash, gun pointing at her face.
Chapter 46
Surprise
‘Stop the car!’
My foot slams on the brake and we come to a skidding halt by the edge of the road.
I turn to Amy. ‘What’s wrong?’
She is staring out the window down the edge of a small cliff, to the M1 highway below.
‘Jackson, look down there … on the highway.’ She taps the glass with urgency. My skin is crawling, so I can only assume she is pointing to an Infected.
‘Take a look!’ she insists.
We have been searching for a little over five hours, leaving the construction site just after 9.00 am. It was a late start, but the best we could manage with a screaming child. Last night was horrendous; today also. Isabelle is so unsettled without Victoria.
We have found no clues as to Victoria’s whereabouts. Nor have we found any evidence of other survivors, including the ones who t
ook her. In fact, the only unusual thing we have discovered so far is a used can of soft drink perched on an overturned pushbike. But who knows how long ago that was opened.
I check we are alone, unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over. I can smell Amy’s hair. It smells like berries. Her skin has another scent. My mouth begins to salivate. I jerk back. I shouldn’t be close to anyone right now: I’m hungry.
Amy looks at me, bizarrely. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, fine,’ I mumble. ‘A bit awkward to see. I’m going to get out for a better look.’
I get out of the Range Rover quickly, not allowing Amy the chance to ask further questions. The way I acted was dumb. Who knows what she is thinking right now.
Amy is out of the car too by the time I get to the other side. We leave Isabelle strapped in her seat with the engine running and air-con on. She’s asleep. About damn time.
‘Check it out,’ Amy says, pointing down the cliff.
I peer down the rugged cliff face, past the small wall of trees and to the highway, no more than a hundred or so metres away. Vehicles are backed up for kilometres, bumper to bumper. A few are overturned. The feeling across my skin intensifies.
‘There are hundreds of them,’ I say, watching the Infected gathering on the roadway. More are arriving all the time. ‘What are they doing?’
Amy shrugs. ‘Beats me.’ She points to the line of vehicles banked up along the highway. ‘That’s a lot of cars. Do you think they were trying to escape?’
‘Seems like it.’
Amy had explained to me about the tents at Surfers and the medical equipment inside. I was surprised to hear they had established something before the outbreak. I need to check it out for myself.
‘Maybe they were heading to Surfers. You know, the blockade you were telling me about.’
‘Perhaps.’ She walks closer to the edge of the cliff, focused on the horde. ‘Something’s up down there.’
I look around at our surroundings. We are on a winding stretch of road that hugs a cliff. On the map it looks like we will reach the area of Sunnybank in a few kilometres. But I’m not so sure. I feel we may have missed a turn. But everything looks safe, so I walk over to stand next to Amy and remove a pop-tart from my pocket and begin to eat. Amy looks at the food curiously.
‘Hungry again?’
I shrug and she rolls her eyes.
‘I mean, that’s your fourth pop-tart in the past hour.’
I shrug again.
We keep watching, mesmerised by the growing crowd. The horde weaving through the traffic begins to thin as the Infected converge into one mass, perhaps waiting for the last of the stragglers to arrive before moving on. It’s kinda boring to watch. After a few minutes, I decide to sit down. Amy joins me after checking on Isabelle.
‘What was on the truck?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘The truck. The one that took Victoria.’
‘Oh … Um.’ Amy shuts her eyes and begins rubbing the sides of her temples. ‘Give me a sec.’
I lean back on the ground and rub grass between my fingers. ‘This could be a while,’ I chuckle.
‘Well, it was a large tow truck. It had cages on the back, as I told you. But …’ Amy opens her eyes and looks at me. ‘To be honest, I was hiding most of the time.’
She gives me an awkward smile.
‘You sure you didn’t take note of anything on the side? Any markings?’
Amy shakes her head. ‘Not that I noticed.’
I begin to break apart the grass in my fingers, trying to hide my frustration.
‘Okay,’ I mumble, trying to suppress my temper.
But it isn’t okay. I’m thinking that if it were me, I’d be getting every detail, knowing it was about to make a break for it – a bloody number plate or something.
My huff is cut short when an Infected’s howl pierces the air. I turn my attention back to the horde. A figure is pushing its way to the front. It slams into another Infected, which is weirdly crushed by a massive Beast, and continues without a pause.
‘Woah!’ Amy exclaims. ‘Did you see that?’
I nod dumbly, astonished. ‘Yeah. Wonder what that was for?’
The Infected stops when it reaches the edge of the horde and peers north along the highway. It then lifts its head and howls with a mournful sadness in its voice.
‘That thing sounds unwell,’ Amy says, coldly.
I’m unsure why I’m annoyed at the comment. I hate them.
‘It’s not unwell, Amy. It’s upset.’ The sound is turning my blood to stone. ‘I think it’s lost someone.’
I regret saying it the second it comes out.
‘Jackson, what are you on about?’
Amy is giving me the same look as Victoria. It makes me feel like an alien or insane. Frankly, I am. I eat people.
‘Just guessing.’
I try and hide my guilt and turn towards the horde, ignoring Amy’s gaze. Two Infected are now running back north on the highway, away from the horde, no doubt in search of something or someone.
The horde begins to part, creating a passage from the rear to the front for an Infected who has a black dog at their side.
‘Who the hell?’ Amy asks. ‘Is that a dog?’
‘Looks like it.’
The dog is little more than a black shadow from this distance, but it’s big. We both stand for a better look, cautious not to be seen.
‘Wish we had binoculars.’ Amy says, craning her neck.
‘Some in the boot. On the left.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’
I shrug. Amy gives me a look that shows her displeasure. She jogs away, returning a minute later with my Bushnell binoculars – blue-tinted lenses and top quality. A lucky find.
Amy removes them from the case and puts them up to her eyes. She scans about for a minute before finding what she’s looking for. Her mouth falls open.
‘No way.’
The binoculars are shaking in her hands.
‘What is it?’
Amy lowers the binoculars. Her face is pale against her jet-black hair.
‘It can’t be. It just can’t.’
I lean over and snatch the binoculars, curious as to why she is acting so strange.
‘Give them here if you won’t tell me.’ I sound like a dick. But I’m not in the mood for guessing games. Her comment earlier is still bugging me.
I place the binoculars to my eyes and adjust the focus. They magnify my vision more than ten times. Infected crowd the lens. I spot gouges, missing limbs, torn off ears. They are all so ugly.
I continue to scan until I find the dog, catching a glimpse of its sleek body before it disappears behind shuffling legs.
‘What’s with the dog?’ I ask.
Amy is saying something so quietly I can’t hear. I lower the binoculars and look at her. ‘What is it?’
Tears have filled her eyes and are falling down her cheeks. ‘Did you see?’ she sniffs.
I frown. ‘What?’
I place the binoculars back to my eyes and scan again, skipping over the dozens of unpleasant images. I swear I can smell them from here. I find the Infected who I assume is the Leader, the one who was doing all the howling. He is tall, perhaps six foot six, with cropped hair and thick arms. He’d be hard to take down one on one.
I move to the other Infected, the black dog now by his side. He is standing less than a metre away from the Leader. His grey pants are tattered and covered in blood and he is wearing a leather looking jacket, perhaps a Driza-Bone, that seems tight around his physique. He is shorter than the other – not by much, maybe a few centimetres or so. His back is to me so I can’t see his face, but there is a clear disagreement between the two. The horde is agitated; so am I.
The Leader holds up a hand, stopping the Infected from barging past. The black dog leaps into action and locks on to the Leader’s leg. The scene is surreal. It’s the first time I have seen an animal so loyal to an Infected before, let alone attack on
e of them.
The Leader swats at the dog. The other Infected catches hold of the arm of the Leader, and the black dog lets go. The Leader is clearly unimpressed. The other Infected turns, revealing his face. My blood turns ice cold.
‘Lincoln?’
Amy cries out in horror. ‘It’s Lincoln and Koda!’
Chapter 47
One on one
Lincoln and the Leader clash, hands ripping and tearing at each other like savage animals. The horde presses in around them, leaving no room for escape
Lincoln is thrown back by an elbow to the chest but regains his footing quickly and charges forward. He strikes the Leader in the stomach with his fist then lands a heavy blow to the jaw that slams its mouth shut. Broken teeth fall to the bitumen and the Leader explodes with a roar.
Lincoln’s clawed hand grabs at the Leader’s face, pulling at the flesh, ripping it free like a bandaid and slinging it to the ground with a spray of blood. The Leader howls in frustration and kicks out, buckling Lincoln’s legs so that he drops to his knees. He follows up with a crushing blow to Lincoln’s head, knocking him to the ground.
The skin is shredded from Lincoln’s face like grated cheese as it hits the rough surface of the road. He lifts his head exposing raw, gravel-encrusted skin. The Leader is standing above him with his foot raised ready to stomp down. Koda suddenly leaps forward and grabs the leg, jerking the Leader sideways. The crowd of Infected moan and growl in disapproval.
An Infected woman steps forward. Her hands are splayed showing long claw-like nails. She runs at Koda, eyes filled with hate. Lincoln lunges and grabs her leg, yanking her to the ground. He drags her to him like a lasso and presses a knee into the back of her neck. Bones crack under his weight, and her head begins to twist unnaturally. She squeals like a pig but then falls silent when there is a loud ‘pop’.