The sound of scuffling jolts Ellie as she stands. She checks the area as she grabs the child’s hand. Sweat, damp and cold, trickles down her back. The stationary plane, the silent ambulances and fire engines seem surreal, as though she’s walking in a still from a film, or a set where the actors have finished filming and gone home for the day. The hairs on her arm bristle as realisation dawns; the heroes had arrived, pulled up with sirens blaring, lights flashing, but they hadn’t left with the casualties. As she takes another step, she notices the metal stairs that should have been outside the open door, on their side, skewed across the tarmac. The door of one of the ambulances is open. She takes another step forward and a shriek pierces her eardrums. Sudden movement at the back of the plane. The child screams and darts forward, disappearing into the dark. Footsteps pound. Ellie’s bowels curdle and she runs after the child as figures sprint into the light.
“Ambulance!” she calls. “Door open!”
The small figure dashes across the vehicle’s grille and disappears behind the open door. Reaching the ambulance, Ellie grabs the handle, the pounding of feet close behind, and swings to the other side. As she jumps into the cab, two men lunge for the door. Fingertips clamp down on the top of the door, making it heavy as she yanks it shut. A pair of red eyes stare through the window, the face slamming against its glass, the man’s fingers trapped. The child screams as a woman, in the distinctive yellow jacket of a firefighter, launches herself against the windscreen.
Ellie slams the lock shut, reaches across to the other door, and punches at the lock with her fist. The hanging man shrieks through the glass. The door clicks to locked. She fumbles for the ignition. Keys! Yes! She turns the key, the engine bursts into life, the headlights flooding the scene before them. She gasps in horror. At least twenty men, women, and – her stomach lurches – children, are running towards them. Some seem lost, others are attacking each other, a young boy runs in circles like a demented dog chasing its tail, a man shoves past a woman sending her sprawling to the tarmac, another man tramples across her, his boot kicking at her head as he runs. Ellie slams the ambulance into reverse, and blue lights pulse. The girl screams. The man at the window jerks his head back then thuds it against the glass, leaving a smear of saliva and blood.
The ambulance speeds across the tarmac, bumps as it hits a low kerb and rolls onto the grass. The hanging man bangs his head repeatedly at the glass. The speedometer rises. Ellie slams on the brakes, opens the door, then slams it shut. The child crashes forward, the man disappears, and Ellie crunches the gears into first. “Sorry!” she gasps as the girl pulls herself up from the footwell. “Put your seatbelt on.” The girl whimpers, but pulls at the belt and clicks it into place. Headlights shine across the grass as Ellie pushes the engine into third then fifth, accelerator to the floor. Ahead a sign reads ‘Exit’. Ellie shoots from the grass onto the road and speeds towards the bright lights. In the rearview mirror, the dull glow of the aeroplane disappears from view, the screeching horde no longer visible.
Twelve
As the ambulance slows to join the main carriageway and sparse flow of traffic, Nate reaches Katy’s small terraced house, after seeing Sam back safely to his own car. The new LED streetlights cast a harsh glow on the pavement, and light shines through bedroom curtains in only one house along the terrace. Katy’s bedroom light is off. He checks the time; three am. Perhaps he should wait, go home, freshen up, and then come back? No. After what he’d witnessed at Konstantin’s, and the bizarre behaviour he’d seen on his way back to the house, the street brawls, and even looting in one area, he had to make sure that Josh was OK. No school for the boy in the morning, or perhaps even tomorrow; he can stay at home until Nate finds out just what the hell is going on.
In the distance sirens whine. His mobile vibrates; Sam letting him know he’s back safe. He slides his thumb across the screen, unlocking the device, and clicks to ‘Answer’. Sam’s voice shouts ‘watch this’ and a live feed appears on the screen. The footage is uncharacteristically shaky - Sam usually had a steady hand, practiced as he was at videoing evidence. A dark vehicle rolls past and then a tank comes into view. Nate’s concentration doesn’t waver as he watches the procession. The tank rolls past and the camera trains on the line of military vehicles. Sam’s voice narrates. “This is near my house, Nate. It’s the fucking army. The government is sending in the tanks and military—to our town!”
“What!”
Figures descend from the back of one of the passing lorries and in the next seconds Nate watches as they approach Sam. He holds the camera steady as the men reach him. Without speaking the first soldier raises his rifle and swipes. It knocks the phone from Sam’s hand. The camera continues to record. “Sam!” The jabbing arms and elbows of a struggle, and, at one point, Sam’s curling black hair, his startled brown eyes, can be seen for the next seconds. Shouts and grunts rise from the device until what could be the butt of a rifle descends, becomes huge, and the screen goes black, the voices silent. “Sam!” Nate shouts to the dead screen as a notice pops up that the live-feed has finished. “What the hell!”
A light in a neighbouring house flicks on and a face appears at the window. Ignoring the woman’s frown, Nate checks back to the mobile’s screen then raps on Katy’s door. Something terrible is happening, shit is hitting the fan, and he has to see Josh. His mind flashes to an image of his soon-to-be ex-wife. His jaw clenches. Don’t go there, Nate! She can sod off. Whoever she’s shacked up with these days will just have to take care of the conniving snake!
A light flicks on inside the house. Nate responds to the opening door and Katy’s confusion, then alarm, by muttering ‘sorry’ and pushing through to the hallway. The door locks behind them.
“What is it, Nate? If it’s Josh, I told him-”
A stone sinks in Nate’s belly. “Josh! Where is he?”
“He’s-”
Ignoring her response, Nate strides to the stairs, taking the first two risers in one step as he calls for the boy. “Josh!” Katy’s reply is lost as he mounts the stairs. “Josh!”
“He’s in bed. Nate!” Her voice is a whispered hiss, her footsteps close behind him as he reaches the landing. “Please! You’ll wake Justin.”
“Sorry.” He slows. “Which bedroom is Josh in?”
“The one at the end.”
The boy groans as Nate flicks on the light and mutters a distinctly irritated, ‘Turn it off!’
Nate sags with relief.
“He’s all right, Nate.”
“What you said before—has he been out?” Nate flicks the light off and closes the door.
“Yes.”
“I said he was to stay inside!” His tone is harsh, immediately regretted.
Katy flinches. “I’m sorry, Nate, but he just wouldn’t listen. Come downstairs. We’ll talk in the kitchen. I don’t want Justin waking up, tonight has been … difficult.”
Following her into the small kitchen, he leans up against the counter.
“Sit down, Nate. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
“I’m too wound up to sit.”
“Tell me what’s going on whilst I make the tea.” She takes the kettle from the counter and the jug knocks against the metal tap as she fills it with water.
Calm it, Nate. You’re upsetting the woman. “I’m sorry, Katy. I didn’t mean to burst in here and upset you. I’ve been rude. It’s just that tonight – how the hell do you tell someone that people are turning into violent, blood-thirsty monsters and that the military have been sent in to sort it out – Christ, Katy! I don’t even know where to start!”
“At the beginning?”
“No, first tell me about Josh.”
“Sure.” She flicks the kettle on. “I was getting Justin ready for bed whilst Josh set up his telescope, and the next thing I know he’s shouting about meteors heading for the town.”
“He was right.”
“Yes, we watched from the upstairs window. I can’t believe they actually hit the towe
r blocks.”
“It is bizarre. We’re the fourth city to be hit.”
“Fourth? That hasn’t been on the news and I’ve been watching.”
Nate remembers Josh’s scathing words as he’d dropped him off, ‘You have no idea, do you! If they don’t want you to see something, they block it.’ “I think the government have put some sort of gagging order on the media.”
“Why would they do that?” Katy reaches for two mugs and drops a teabag in each. “We need to know what’s happening!”
“Perhaps to prevent mass panic? There have been riots in other cities. Anyway, back to Josh.”
“Yes. He said he had to go and see what was happening at the point of impact—that’s what he called it.”
Nate shakes a weary head. He can understand the boy’s urge, excitement even, to see for himself exactly what impact the meteor had, but that he’d put himself in danger like that, against the express command of his father, and disobeying Katy too, was something he’d have to haul him over the coals for—another confrontation Nate can do without.
“I told him not to go, Nate, but he just wouldn’t listen.”
Nate nods. “Sounds like Josh, especially at the moment—with everything that happened with his mum.”
The kettle boils, and Katy fills the cups with water, stirs, removes the teabags, and adds milk. “He’ll be acting out. But he’s safe upstairs now, no harm done.”
Nate takes a sip of the offered tea and notices the flush on Katy’s cheeks, the way she’d averted her eyes as the words ‘no harm done’ had left her lips. Senses on alert, he pushes. “How was he … when he returned?”
She swallows. The woman is about to lie! “Out of breath.”
“And?” Nate stares hard at her now. “Tell me, Katy. There’s something else.”
She puts her mug down. “He was out of breath, but … he was agitated, Nate. Really agitated, and when I asked him what was wrong, he just stared through me then went up to his room. It … it was like there was something dead inside him.”
What the hell is she talking about? “Dead?”
“Yeah. His eyes were kind of … flat. Sweat was pouring off him, and he looked like he had a fever, but extremely pale, despite being out of breath.”
Nate starts. “Jesus!”
“Don’t worry! I’ve been up to check on him at least five times. He hasn’t got a fever, he just looked like as though he did.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I know what stress you’re under, Nate, and I didn’t want to give you any more whilst you were working. Josh went upstairs and just went to bed. I gave him ten minutes to settle then checked and he was already asleep. I thought he’d tell me about whatever was troubling him when he was ready. I guessed perhaps he’d seen something, maybe someone injured. There were two meteors.”
Nate swallows. He has to ask. “Was there anything else about his appearance that you thought was odd?”
“Odd?”
“His eyes, or … his lips?”
She throws him a quizzical frown. “No. He looked … scared, I guess is the best way to describe it, and he did seem to be shaking, but that could have just been from the exertion of peddling. He practically threw the pushbike down in the front garden and ran into the house.”
They sit in silence for a moment, both conscious of the other, sipping tea. Katy finally breaks the silence. “I am sorry, Nate. I feel bad for letting him go.”
“No, Katy. It’s me who should be sorry. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with this.”
“You know I don’t mind. My sister … well, what she did was unforgiveable.”
Nate shrivels at the mention of Melanie, clenches his jaw, focusing on the mug in his hand. M & M Penrose Ltd. Surveillance & Security Consultants is printed across its belly. He groans and places it on the table, the tea suddenly repellent.
“Nate … when you got here, you were agitated too. What happened tonight?”
Nate grasps for the words, unwilling to describe the full horror of the carnage that took place at Konstantin’s. “The party got out of hand, that’s all.”
“Seriously! Nate, I know you better than that. Since when has a party getting out of hand thrown you into a flip?”
“It was … violent … people died.”
“Oh.”
“But …” How can he say this without sounding deranged? “There’s something else, Katy. We think the government is covering something up. There’s been a massive rise in crime lately, and what struck me tonight, after what happened at the party, is that the rise in crime happens in the same cities where the meteors strike.”
“Perhaps people are scared?”
“Perhaps. But that doesn’t explain why the people at the party went berserk only hours after the meteors struck, and why there are tanks rolling into town.”
“Tanks!”
“Sam sent me a video. They attacked him, Katy. As he was videoing the tanks and lorries moving through the city, soldiers jumped out of the back of one lorry and beat him to the ground. They smashed the phone from his hand and then broke it with the butt of a rifle.”
“What? Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. I’m assuming his phone has been destroyed, but I’ll check in a minute.”
She reaches for her phone. “Have you checked to see if anyone else has posted anything?”
“I haven’t had time. I was watching the video outside the house just before I knocked.”
She begins to scroll through the feed on her phone. Nate follows her lead. There has to be something on there, someone else who has witnessed the events and posted their evidence. The internet will be burning with conversation.
Katy frowns as Nate slides a thumb across his screen. “Just buffering.” She jabs at the screen with impatience.
Nate’s screen flashes open. The black screen of Sam’s video appears, the notice that the video had finished still printed in red on his screen. An arrow moves around in a circle. “Me too. Just buffering.”
Barbara grunts, yanks at the weight. The man’s head bangs against each concrete step as she descends into the dark space of the basement. A low hum fills the room, the warmth from the boiler, the others, and the curling wretch, making the air muggy. The basement reeks of faeces and blood. The man’s eyes stare blindly at its low, pipe-tracked ceiling. The others huddle against one wall, their stench rotting in the air, their bodies standing tight, swaying as one, their low chattering insane. A slither in the corner and the dark thing reaches out long, gnarled fingers, skin taut and black with the slickness of oil. She heaves the body onto the pile, her shoe making a momentary print in the pool of blood, then shuffles back up the steps to return to the night, the hunt, and the boy. The sound of retching follows her and, as she reaches the top step, the thing extends its mouth to the man’s face and sucks.
Thirteen
As Barbara returns to the streets, and Nate tries once more to connect his phone to the internet, gives up and throws it down to the carpet, Ellie pulls the ambulance to the side of the road. Her hands tremble as she yanks the handbrake and slips the gear into neutral. She leaves the engine running. A sour stench rises to her nose and she casts a hurried glance at the girl. Sitting back against the seat, strapped in, she stares out to the road ahead.
“You … OK?”
The girl turns to face her. Ellie sighs with relief. Still blue. Her eyes are still blue. The stench wafts again and Ellie realises that it is her own body odour that is foul, sweat pungent with fear.
The girl’s stomach growls.
“You hungry?”
She nods.
“Well,” Ellie continues, making an effort to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Let’s go and find something to eat. There’s got to be a shop open somewhere, even if it is the middle of the night.”
“I want to go home.”
A sense of inadequacy settles as a burden across Ellie’s back; she hasn’t even asked the child her name,
or where her parents are. The seat dwarfs the girl. “Where is home?” The girl reels off the address - a town very close to Ellie’s - along with her home phone number parrot-fashion.
“That’s my hometown too!”
For the first time the girl smiles. “It is?”
“Yep.” Ellie can barely ask the next question. “So, your mum-”
“She’s in Italy. That’s where I was going.”
“… your dad?”
“Going home. The airhostess was looking after me.”
Ellie’s relief is huge; an unaccompanied minor, her parents not dead.
“Great! So, what do you say we get something to eat then take you back to your dad?”
“Yes! Yes, please.”
“I’m Ellie, by the way.” She holds out her hand. “What’s your name?”
The girl takes Ellie’s hand. “Naomi, but my mum calls me Mimi.”
“That’s a lovely name. Can I call you Mimi too?”
The girl nods, her plaits moving against her jacket, her smile broad.
“My full name is Eleanor Victoria Fitzpatrick, but my mum calls me Ellie.”
Mimi smiles, but the mask of fear lowers again as her eyes return to the road.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Mimi perks up.
Ellie leans forward and whispers in conspiratorial tones, “My friends used to call me Fitz!”
The girl giggles. “Fitz! That’s silly.”
“It is, and I used to hate it, but now I don’t mind.”
Mortal Skies: A Post Apocalyptic Sci Fi Horror Novel Page 7