by Dave Lacey
Jack was about to intervene – this choke hold was not for amateurs – when Darren surprised both Jack and the guard by dropping the guard’s back onto his knee. At the same time, Darren pulled back with all his strength. Jack's eyes flew wide as heard the dry crack of vertebrae. And that was it. Mild mannered Darren had taken out the guard. Jack thought to himself how different things were now, after the invasion. Quiet men become killers. They arrived at Darren's side as he stood staring down at the dead man at his feet.
They all looked down as the rain ran over the exposed, cooling skin of the man's face. Jack looked at Darren for a moment, and was about to say something, when Darren's face hardened. He seemed to make peace with himself. He reached down and picked up the gun from the dead man's fingers. He stood upright and looked Jack in the eye. “You know, I was a teacher once,” he said, taking a deep cleansing breath. He jerked his head over his shoulder towards the entrance. “Let’s get this over with. And, remember, my kids are in there too.” Jack nodded.
“You know how to use that thing?” he said, nodding at the gun in Darren's arms, his eyes wide in question.
“No,” Darren said, his face hard and resolute. “But I'm pretty certain I’ll have a much better idea in about twenty minutes.” He turned towards the gates.
The gates opened easily enough. Darren had been through them many times, and had memorized the sequence of clicks and turns required to gain access or egress. They were lucky that the gang they were infiltrating was so slovenly. When they opened up, there was nobody on the other side either. If the rest of tonight went like this, it would be much easier than Jack could have hoped for. As they crept along, hugging the earthen walls of the passage, the darkness gave way to a soft inviting glow a hundred yards further on.
Along with the glow came the gentle susurration of many voices speaking quietly. It easily covered any sounds they made as they approached. Their luck was holding out so far. They reached the end of the first passage, and, as they did, the main communal area was revealed. It was cavernous. The roof was almost cathedral-like; the sides rose from the floor, arcing high above in an almost perfect dome. Numerous tunnels ran off it. Around the centre were concentric rings of seats, radiating outwards.
Draped over them, were men and women in various states of undress, with others draped over them in turn. It was like a scene from Caligula. The guard meant to be watching over their tunnel was instead busy watching what was going on below. Jack thought he’d seen everything, but this was incredible. From here, it almost gave the impression of being consensual. Almost, but not quite. Small things gave it away. A knife at a throat. An unconscious recipient of intense sexual attention. The odd muted wail of somebody presumably under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
From their vantage point, it looked as though the girls were quite young. Jack felt his grip tighten on the stock of his weapon. His teeth ground against each other and his breath snorted through his nose. If he’d needed any more motivation, this was it. He spent another minute or two running his eyes over the outer edges of the communal area, checking for any potential glitches. He watched Millie and Smithy do the same, while Darren just stared down at the scene below, his features contorted with disgust.
Jack attracted their attention, and nodded it was time to go. Millie moved forward and drew a hunting knife. With little fuss, she glided up behind the lone guard, slipped an arm around his throat and drew him into the shadows. She emerged seconds later, wiping blood from the blade. Another nod sent them sprinting for the ramp that led down into the centre. They landed at the bottom without anybody having noticed them. The first man they encountered had his trousers round his ankles, as he rutted away at the dazed figure beneath him.
Smithy cold cocked him with the butt of his pistol. There was little to indicate the man was unconscious, other than that he stopped his lazy back and forth movement, and the thin trail of blood that ran from beneath his hairline like a serpent from the long grass. As Smithy completed his task, one of the others looked up from his unwholesome pursuit. This man was a little slow to react; perhaps alcohol or some other form of recreational habit had dulled his senses. He didn’t have time to raise an alarm before Millie growled and broke his neck.
As he performed spasmodic post mortem movements, Millie grabbed two handfuls of his jacket and rolled him off the girl below him. She checked the girl’s vital signs, and seemed satisfied at least that she was still alive. She looked at Jack, her face flushed with anger, her eyes dark with murder. “Okay, let’s not drag this out,” Jack said under his breath. “No unnecessary killing,” and he nodded at his sister while raising his eyebrows, “Yeah I’m looking at you, sis. We’re not a death squad. We’re here for rescue and to help where needed.” As Jack paused, another figure came stumbling around a pillar of earth, his expression one of confusion as he raised a wary finger in accusation.
“Who the fu–” He never finished. Smithy hit him with a brutal right cross. The man’s face swivelled to his right in comical fashion as his legs fell out from under him. The bottle he’d been holding hit the floor with a glassy clang and rolled to the side, spilling its dark contents over the ground.
“Right, come on then.” Jack moved off around the central area. The four of them stopped every few yards to concuss one stupefied abuser after another. It was easy pickings, easier than Jack had imagined it would be. But as he went, he began to frown. It was too easy. It wasn’t a trap, but something didn’t feel right. As he neared a complete circle, one of the guards looked up at him as he approached. Glassy eyed, with spittle rolling down his chin, he appeared to have a modicum of awareness.
Jack knelt down next to him and cocked his head to one side, appraising the man before him. The guard continued to look at him, his mouth hanging open, his greasy hair separated in a centre parting.
“Whaa?” the man said, trying to rouse himself as his face darkened. Jack reached out a hand and took the bottle from the man’s grip. He looked at the man, his gaze level and curious.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Jack said quietly, almost conversationally. “And you’re going to answer them. Or, I’ll hurt you. You feel me?” he asked, his voice not rising in volume. He wasn’t sure if the man understood, or if he was simply too far gone, but he began to laugh. Jack felt his anger rising as the man’s eyes closed, his mirth overwhelming him. More drool dripped from his mouth and chin as his head fell back under the laughter. Jack didn’t wait for him to finish, he just leaned forward, took the man’s empty hand and snapped his middle finger all the way back. He heard the bone break, and knew that it was likely the tendon had been released of its burden of supporting the finger.
It took a second, but the action got the reaction it deserved. The man’s face grew red and his reflexes sharpened. His head swung back to look at his finger, now bent back at an odd angle. The hoarse scream came next, almost a roar, but so diminished by the substance he had ingested that it hardly registered around the space. A thread of saliva spanned his top and bottom teeth, or what remained of them. His eyes fired up and his face turned puce. “Hmwah!” he roared as he tried to get to his feet. Jack leaned forward and pushed him back into his seat.
“Are you ready to talk now?” Jack asked, his demeanour solicitous. Jack leaned forward on his elbows, searching the man’s face for awareness. The man started breathing loudly through his nose, his breathing sawing in and out. His mouth opened again, and his lower jaw protruded beyond that of the top in some odd attempt at intimidation. Jack sighed patiently, then reached forward for the other hand, his grip like a vice. The man started to thrash about, desperate to avoid any further attention. His legs started to kick, and he pulled back on his arm, trying in vain to wrench it free.
“This little piggy went to market,” said Jack, as he did the same to the middle finger of the opposite hand. Jack’s face remained impassive as the crunch was followed by yet another scream. A voice at the back of his head tried to say something, trie
d to speak, but the demon voices drowned it out. This was no time for pity or remorse. “More?” Jack asked, as the man started to cry.
Impossibly, there was mucus coming from just about everywhere now. Eyes, nose, mouth and possibly ears. Rather than the angry puce of before, the man’s face was now red from pain and fear. But it seemed the pain had sharpened his senses at least, the mist in his eyes had receded as he looked at Jack from the corner of them. His hands now looked ridiculously deformed, but Jack didn’t care. “Shall we start again, like we’re friends?” Jack asked the man, his voice soft and friendly. The man didn’t answer, but his earlier dismissive gestures had evaporated.
“Where’s my son? He was taken earlier today. He’s ten and has dark hair and brown eyes. I want him back, and I won’t blink at killing every last one of you motherfuckers until I do.” Jack looked held eye contact, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. “Oh, and there’s plenty of time for me to enjoy myself before I finish you off. I’m very creative.” The threat was clear, as Jack looked at the man’s twisted fingers for emphasis. Finally, the mess in front of him managed some legible words.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man almost spat the words at Jack, and the merest hint of a smirk played on his features. Jack didn’t hesitate. He placed his pistol next to the man’s knee, angled so that the bullet would go from left to right across the kneecap, and fired. The deafening roar, after the subdued, seedy atmosphere from seconds before, was shocking. It caused a stir among the remaining conscious occupants dotted around the space. Jack had angled it that way, so as not to spill too much blood. He didn’t want the piece of shit to bleed to death.
But the damage was total nonetheless. There was nothing left of the patella, or the two bones that came together beneath it. The poor excuse for a man would never walk properly again.
“I’m getting bored now,” explained Jack. “You need to speak, or I’ll find someone who will. And all you’ll be then is a wasted bullet.” Jack leaned closer, and watched a number of emotions in the man’s eyes. Without shifting his gaze, he cocked the hammer of his pistol and placed it against the other knee.
“Okay, okay, you fuck,” the man shouted. Tears streamed down his face now, his breath was foetid. He collapsed forward, sobbing without a hint of embarrassment.
“Today, fuckface. I’m running out of patience,” Jack said, then moved in closer to whisper. “But not bullets.”
The panicked, bloodshot eyes looked up at him through the greying fringe, then he spoke.
“He’s not here,” the man said, and smiled. The grin, fighting through layers of pain, spread laterally. Wide and mocking. Jack hid his own shock well, but maybe not well enough. There was a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes, then a trace of satisfaction. “And you’re a dead man. When Coffey finds out, he’ll come after you all. He’ll fuck and kill each and every one of ya. And just imagine what he’s gonna do now to your boy, now that you done this?” It was almost as if the pain no longer mattered. The man was infused with a new energy. One born of revenge and satisfaction. Finally, Jack spoke.
“He’s definitely not here?” Jack asked, putting an arm around the man’s shoulder, pulling him close like a co-conspirator. The man struggled to move away, not wanting the contact.
“No, I told you. Coffey has him. And he has plans for him.” Jack closed his eyes and ground his teeth, to stop himself from snapping.
“And what plans would they be?” Jack asked, his eyes still closed, though the man couldn’t see this. He giggled and made some odd sounds.
“Oh I think you can guess.” And he giggled again after speaking. Jack asked one final question.
“And do you know where they’ve gone?”
“Sure do. They’ve gone to the Hill,” he said, as though Jack were simple for not knowing this. Jack nodded once, then stood. The man looked up at him and laughed. It was a brittle laugh, resulting from the fear that Jack could still see in his eyes. And he was right to be afraid. In the past, Jack’s life had been the protection and safety of the public. Tireless in upholding the law, being a policeman was his vocation, not his job. Back then, men like this found it harder to do the things they did, preying on the weak. But now, they flourished. Back then, his son had been safer and his wife alive.
Things were different now though, and this encounter only served to highlight it. Without further delay, Jack shot the man through his remaining good knee. And this time he didn’t bother to stem the blood flow by shooting across the joint. He went through the front and smiled as the bullet exited from the soft fleshy part at the back. The man screamed, unrestrained and guttural. Jack took careful aim and shot him through the stomach, trying to avoid anything too vital.
The sack of shit writhed when the final bullet hit home, the sound of the gunshot died away, and he was in too much pain even to scream.
“The good news is,” Jack said, “you’ll die. The bad news is, it’s going to take quite a while. Bad news for you that is.” Things had been different before the invasion, Jack had been different before the invasion. It had changed everyone. He turned and walked away, conscious of the whimpering getting quieter the further he went. He reached his sister and friend. They’d been busy digging for information and helping those unable to help themselves. Having finished their task, they waited for him near the entrance to one of the many tunnels coming off the communal area.
“You okay?” Millie asked, stepping forward and gripping her brother’s upper arm, chewing slightly on her bottom lip.
“He’s not here,” Jack said, unable to meet anybody’s eyes.
“Yeah, we guessed,” said Smithy. “We asked a few zombies, and we got nothing back.” Smithy’s disappointment evident in his tone.
Jack’s face was slack with fatigue. “Where’s Darren?” he asked.
“He went off down that tunnel over there,” Millie answered, pointing over Jack’s left shoulder. “Did he,” she gestured with her chin in the direction of the almost inaudible whimpering, “tell you anything other than that Jack Junior isn’t here?”
“Only that they’ve taken him somewhere called the Hill,” Jack said. He shuffled to one side and sat down heavily on a wooden stool, his elbows rested on his knees. Millie shuffled from one foot to the other, clearly wanting to ask something, but not knowing if she should. Finally, after Smithy gave her a gentle nudge, she asked.
“Would he not tell you where that is?” She frowned, wondering why her brother hadn’t got his vital piece of information. She was trying her best not to be too brutal, but it was proving difficult. She opened her mouth to make another comment, but Smithy cut across her.
“Jack, did he know where the Hill is?” Smithy dropped to his haunches and looked up at Jack. Jack sighed and snapped an answer.
“Of course he fucking knew. I made an executive decision. He’s still alive though, feel free to ask away.” Jack didn’t even bother to look up. He just waved a lazy arm in the dying man’s general direction.
“So what? We just stop here, sit down for a while and feel sorry for ourselves?” Millie asked, her frown deepening further. Her knuckles had turned white as she gripped the gun, her frustration and disappointment tensing every muscle in her body.
“Hey Millie, do me a favour and shut the fuck up for a minute or so, yeah?” Jack said, still looking at the ground, his features twisted into a sneer. Millie opened her mouth to shout back an answer, when Smithy grabbed her upper arm.
“Leave it for now, Mil, yeah?” Smithy said quietly, leading her away ten feet or so. She made as if to go back, then thought better of it. As they stood muttering to each other, there was fresh commotion at a tunnel mouth directly behind them. Smithy frowned as he looked over, standing on tiptoe to see what was going on. Finally, after staring at Jack for a moment, Millie's head turned to follow Smithy's gaze.
“Its Darren,” Smithy said, and he started forward to meet him. Millie followed. Darren had made his way back to
the centre of the complex; he had his arm and a blanket or two around the shoulders of three young girls.
Some of the other inhabitants of the colony, those who were more or less captives of the gang responsible for all the horrors Jack and his friends had discovered, had begun to stir. Those not selected to be drugged and abused this evening were starting to make their way from the other tunnels. Fear in their faces, they came slowly at first. The fear must have kept them from coming earlier too. Voices that had started as a whisper changed to an excited chatter as understanding spread. Smithy watched them come. He fought hard to suppress his emotions.
“Darren, is everything okay?” Smithy called. Darren nodded, visibly relieved to have found his daughters safe.
“Where’s Jack's son?” Darren asked. Smithy's face dropped. Darren frowned. “Have you searched?” Smithy shook his head as he replied.
“No. No point. Jack spoke to a friend of theirs, who told him Junior isn't here.” Smithy said. Darren bobbed his head back in surprise.
“And he hasn't checked? The man's probably lying,” Darren said.
“Yeah, I thought that, but Jack was pretty persuasive. Is it worth looking in here? How much is there to search?” Smithy asked, hope lighting his features.
“A fair bit, but the others will help.”
Darren organized the able bodied people into a search team. As they spread out and started the search, Millie got up and went to Jack. As she stood in front of him, without speaking, he eventually looked up at her. Tears had cut runnels through the dirt on his cheeks, and dripped onto the compacted earth between his feet.
“We'll find him, bro,” Millie said, unable to think of anything more profound. Jack stared at her and just nodded.
Chapter 12
Two hours and many tunnels later, they returned to the communal area. They had found nothing. Deep down, Millie, Jack and Smithy had known. The lack of a leader and any close allies indicated there was another destination. They were right – it had all been too simple. When Darren told Jack where he thought they had gone, Jack just nodded and asked him a question. “Do you know where the Hill is?” Darren paled, but nodded.