Lucy put a knee into Shona’s back. They rolled again, tussling across the smoldering floor. Lucy clambered on top of Shona. She pinned her sister against the floor and covered her mouth, but Shona forced her hand away, and continued her cries. Lucy grabbed Shona’s throat in both hands and squeezed with her newfound strength.
“Listen to me, I’m sick, just let me go, I won’t come back, but please, please, you mustn’t tell the others – you know what they’ll do to me!” implored Lucy.
Shona’s eyes were glazed. She looked at Lucy like she’d never met her before in her life, and kept repeating one single, rasping word. “Sinner!”
Lucy tightened her hands around Shona’s neck and squeezed as hard as she could. Her sister’s eyes bulged. Her legs flailed and kicked wildly as the last air drained from her lungs. With a final utterance of “sinner!” she fell limp, and her head lolled to the side.
Lucy fell to the ground in exhaustion, but had no time to recover – the bed was ablaze, and the flames had spread to the curtains.
She stumbled over Shona’s body. She thrust her notebooks into her backpack, grabbed an armful of essential clothes, and fled the room. She dashed to the emergency stair well. She pulled on the clothes, then raced down the stairs, as cries of alarm echoed out from her floor as the incident was discovered. She hurtled down the fifteen floors, jumping five steps at a time until she reached the bottom. Panting, she drew her coat around her, creasing up in pain as her damaged, secondary abdomen pulsated. The brief surge of strength was fading. She could feel her limbs weakening. Dizziness was crashing down upon her. Shouts echoed from atop the stairwell. Groaning in pain, she kicked open the exit, and stumbled out into the night.
ASH
Convulsive Part IV
ONE
Embers
___________________________________
“Stop! Somebody stop her!” cried a voice, echoing through the stairwell.
Lucy didn’t know who it was. She only knew one thing for certain: if she stopped running, she was a dead woman.
The moonlit square was filling with startled, disoriented Faithful citizens roused by the ringing fire bell. They poured from the surrounding buildings and stared in horror at the fifteenth floor of the Custom House Tower. Keeping her head down, Lucy forced her way through the panic, fighting the direction of the crowd as she strove to get away. A man burst out of the fire escape, not far behind.
“Which way did she go? Shona’s sister – where is she?” he barked, urgently accosting some first responders, who were rushing to the building clutching buckets of water.
Lucy glanced back from the far side of the square and her eyes locked with the man’s.
“There!” he yelled, launching after her.
Dozens of heads spun around, fixing on Lucy’s retreating figure.
She sprinted with all her might, trying to shut out the searing pain from her abdomen, turning corners and weaving through the dark streets with no notion of where she was going.
She dived behind a dumpster and panted, clutching the layers of shredded skin hanging from her stomach. The Faithful’s cries for more water were interspersed by calls for a search party to fan out. Light flickered out from a nearby tunnel - Aquarium Metro Station. Lucy took two gasps of cold night air then sprinted toward the entrance.
She grabbed the handrail and hurtled down the metro steps three at a time. She stumbled out onto the platform, trying to stifle her grunts of pain. A flaming torch illuminated the station. Black floodwater covered the tracks. Floating on top was a raft, onto which the torch was fixed. A worker sat on the bench opposite, dozing.
“Ugh, hello?” he said, climbing hastily to his feet, startled by the footsteps. “Wait a minute, I know you – you’re the Preacher’s cousin?”
“Not quite,” Lucy replied, trying to steady her breathing as she approached the bench. She shoved her fists into her coat pocket and clenched them hard to mask the trembling of her limbs. “We’re in-laws,” she added. “His wife is my half-sister.”
“That was it. Shona’s been telling everyone about you – she is so excited to have found you, you have no idea. Family’s everything to that girl,” said the worker with a beaming smile.
Lucy winced a smile in return as guilt gripped her chest.
“You here for the grain shipment? It’s not due for another hour,” said the worker, checking his watch.
“No, I’m here to ask a favor – for Shona,” Lucy added, hastily.
“Anything for Shona,” grinned the worker.
“I need to get outside of this area,” said Lucy, clumsily.
The fire bell echoed faintly down to the silent platform. The worker’s eyebrow twitched, and he cocked his head towards the staircase.
“It’s a secret – for Shona,” added Lucy, hastily, drawing the man’s attention back.
“I can keep a secret,” winked the worker.
“Shona’s pregnant with the Preacher’s child,” said Lucy.
“For real? That’s great news, what a blessing,” beamed the worker.
“Yes, a blessing – a sign from our Lady,” said Lucy, glancing at the staircase. “But she doesn’t want him to know yet – it’s not quite been three months – and she’s really suffering with morning sickness – and she said there’s a secret stash of meds down the line – and that you could take me?”
“A secret stash? That’s news to me,” frowned the worker.
“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if you already knew about it,” said Lucy, with a forced wink.
A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. A car engine roared above ground. Incoherent shouts echoed after it.
“What’s going on up there?” said the worker.
“Fire drill – Preacher’s idea, of course. He wanted one done while he was away. Hey, are we good to go? I don’t wanna keep Shona waiting,” said Lucy.
“Oh, sure, did she say which stop?” asked the worker.
“I think she said end of the line,” said Lucy, glancing back at the staircase.
“Oh boy, that’s gonna take a while,” said the worker.
“We’d better get moving then – she’s in a bad way,” said Lucy, stepping onto the raft. She looked at him expectantly.
“Uh, right then,” said the worker, climbing in after her.
He cast off, punting them forwards with a long wooden pole. The metro tunnels were plastered in graffiti. A range of symbols, emblems, and scrawled warnings revealed themselves in the torch light as they glided through the water.
“What do the symbols mean?” asked Lucy.
“Before the Preacher took over, the city was run by different tribes. When the gas ran out, they all fought for control of the T network. These tunnels are the easiest way to move stuff around, especially if you’ve been raiding and don’t want people to see your loot. Hey, do you smell that?”
Lucy sniffed. There was a scent of freshly-cut grass, underpinned by the acridity of aniseed. Clinging to the tunnel’s steel columns were plants the size of snowdrops, with closed green buds that looked close to blooming.
Lucy briefly considered how D4 plants could grow in Boston’s infected waterways, especially without light, but she couldn’t sustain the thought. The stabbing pain in her abdomen nagged at her consciousness. She grunted, shifting on the bench.
“You OK?” asked the worker.
“Something I ate, I think. Didn’t agree with me,” said Lucy.
“Been there, friend. There’s only so much you can smoke a bad fish. It’s still gone bad,” he mused.
Lucy surreptitiously slipped a hand beneath her jacket folds, and pressed her fingers to her abdomen.
“Ah!” she recoiled, unable to stifle her revulsion. The fleshy sinews stuck to her fingers, which quivered, trapped beneath her jacket. She tried to keep them hidden, as they hovered above her lacerated ‘womb’.
“You sure you’re OK?” said the worker.
“Yeah, just indigestion,” winced Lucy.
She closed her eyes so tightly that when she reopened them she saw stars and streaks of red.
“You certain about that? Looks really painful,” said the worker, nudging the raft forwards.
“I’ve had it before – it’ll pass,” stammered Lucy, trying not to scream as liquid flesh trickled down her fingers onto her wrist. The torn flaps of skin surrounding the wound shivered in the cold, rubbing against the layer of raw skin beneath, like a vast shredded blister.
“No!” she cried, flinging her hand out from under the coat and plunging it into the water, as if tearing out the fetus all over again.
The worker shuffled anxiously, casting Lucy a wary look. He nudged his feet wider apart, and picked up the pace.
Lucy apologized unconvincingly, breaking off as a fresh wave of pain engulfed her. She gripped the sides of the raft and dug her nails in as the pain reached a peak. She ground her teeth until the agony subsided, leaving behind only the tingling sensation of the shivering flaps of flesh. Her head lolled back as she stifled her erratic breathing. Pieces of graffiti on the tunnel walls appeared to writhe as the torch light exposed them momentarily, before the darkness of the tunnel swallowed them once again.
“Did you have kids – before the apocalypse?” asked the worker, his casual words at odds with his cagey tone.
“No – no kids. You?” gasped Lucy, as her pain began to rise again.
“I got a little girl. She’s my world,” said the worker, his tone softening.
“How old?” grunted Lucy, glancing around for signs of the search party.
“Four. Naw, five in a few weeks, actually. You sure you’re OK?” said the worker, following her craned neck.
“I’m great,” said Lucy.
“Lemme show you a photo of my girl. Hold this, will you?” said the worker, passing Lucy the wooden pole.
Lucy rose to her feet, pausing half way to clutch her stomach. She exhaled through pursed lips, then stood fully, wobbling the raft slightly as she found her center. The worker passed her the long, wooden pole, then turned his back on her. Lucy stared at him, unblinking, as he knelt down, hunched over. She tried to see what was behind him, but his torso blocked the view. He discarded a blanket to the side, and Lucy heard a zip being jerked open.
“Stay there a sec, will you? It’s somewhere in here. Don’t move,” said the worker, crouching down further.
Lucy’s eyes flitted around wildly. The graffiti swirled as the boat drifted. Tiny plants appeared to pulsate against the steel columns on which they grew. The flaming torch flickered chaotically, making the worker’s movements jarring as he rummaged. Two metal clicks rang out like a pistol being loaded.
“Here we go,” said the worker straightening up and twisting towards her.
With a cry, Lucy brought the pole crashing down on his head. The worker fell backward with a yelp, crumpling to the floor of the raft, one arm falling limply over the side into the water. Blood trickled from his forehead.
Lucy stared at the unconscious man, who sat splayed like a teddy bear. The raft scraped against the wall, shaken off-course by the ruckus. Lucy felt her head clear. The graffiti no longer swirled, but she was suddenly hyperaware of the labyrinthine layout of the tunnel. Dripping water echoed from the darkness that extended in both directions. Unfamiliar signs aimed at metro drivers and maintenance workers heightened her sense of unease. She leaned forwards and pulled the worker’s arm back inside the raft then resumed the punting, pushing the raft forward as fast as she could through the dark waters.
A platform slowly edged into view up ahead. Maverick was repeated across the signs. As she steered closer to the concrete level, her ears pricked up.
“Hello?” came a call from further up the tunnel.
Lucy stood bolt upright, wobbling the raft, as she stared ahead. A bend beyond the platform was beginning to glow. The front of a raft edged around the corner.
Lucy jolted her raft into the side of Maverick’s central platform and staggered out. As she placed a foot on the concrete, a hand grabbed her leg and coat, pulling her back down into the raft.
“Sinner!” cried the worker, pinning Lucy, his bloodied face bearing down on her.
With a scream she fought back, lashing out at his bleeding head. The pair wrestled fiercely, rocking the raft as they tussled. Lucy kicked the man off and lunged for the platform but he tackled her around the waist. The pair tripped over the edge of the raft and into the freezing water. Lucy kicked away but the worker grabbed her coat, holding her back until she wriggled out. He grabbed her by the hair. Lucy turned, ready to kick out, but the worker suddenly let go and backed away hastily, his eyes wide with fear. He rose to the surface and hauled himself into the raft. Lucy realized what he’d seen. Her mutilated abdomen was glowing iridescent purple, shimmering through her clothes in the choppy water.
She kicked upwards and grabbed hold of the concrete ledge, then hauled herself onto the platform.
“Sinner!” spluttered the worker, again, staring at her in horror. He grabbed the pole and cast off in fear. “Help! Over here! Sinner! There’s a sinner here!” he continued, pressing on towards the newcomers’ vessel, which was still some way down the tunnel.
As his raft edged away, the light faded from the platform. Lucy rushed for the exit in the dwindling glow. Shards of glass crunched beneath her as she raced through the shattered ticket barriers. Moonlight streamed through the glass atrium overhead, as she staggered up the escalators onto street level.
The temperature was barely above freezing. Trembling with cold, and soaking head to foot, she knew she had precious minutes before hypothermia set in. She stumbled forwards, hastening away from the metro station. She zig-zagged between blocks, changing direction to throw her adversaries off course until she emerged at a waterfront.
Across the water, the horizon glowed as Custom House Tower burned. The fire had spread in all directions from Lucy’s room. Flames raged across the entire upper half of the building.
Lucy tripped forward along the waterfront for what felt like an eternity, with her frigid feet growing clumsier as the cold reached her bones. But a sense of direction punctuated the numbing agony – an instinct was drawing her towards a cluster of buildings by the harbor entrance.
She cried out as her abdomen stabbed with pain again, forcing her to hunch over and cradle the wound with both arms. When she looked up, her eyes settled on a faint glow – a near imperceptible flicker behind a drawn curtain, in a townhouse offset from the road.
She dragged herself up the stone steps and banged on the door, crying out for help. She could feel the cold fuzzing her brain. Her hands were completely numb, but her ears told her she was striking the wood hard. As the last of Lucy’s energy drained from her body, she slumped against the door, sliding her back down it until she collapsed onto the ground. Saliva and mucus ran freely down her numb lips, as her cries for help petered out. Her heavy eyelids closed, and she stopped shaking. She couldn’t feel the cold anymore. She couldn’t feel anything – not even the wound across her stomach, where her hands had come to rest.
She imagined the fire bell ringing across the water, and the people living in tower, trying in vain to save their home. She pictured Shona’s body being engulfed by the flames. She thought of the search car looking for her, and the conviction of those driving it. As the world faded into blackness, the door behind Lucy clicked open, and she fell backward inside the house. The last thing she heard, as she slipped from consciousness, was the sound of a stranger gasping.
***
“She’s like us,” whispered a voice.
The voice registered with Lucy’s brain like a message from a distant planet.
“That doesn’t mean we can trust her,” hissed another.
“What else can we do? We can’t make her leave – they’re looking for her,” said the first.
“Maybe we-”
Lucy stirred, causing the second speaker to stop abruptly.
“She’s awake,” hissed the first.
“I can see that,” snapped the second.
Lucy sat up onto her elbows, blinking in the artificial light. Her body was covered by a thick quilt, and her clothes felt dry. The air was warm. The room resembled a botanic garden. Moss covered the walls and ceiling; leafy plants grew out of every crevice from the skirting boards to the sofas.
Her eyes focused on the two strangers in front of her; a boy and an older-looking girl. Both were teenagers, and both were covered in lesions. The girl held a pistol, which was trained directly at Lucy.
“Stay there,” said the girl, nervously.
Lucy sat up and raised her hands in surrender.
“Who are you?” said Lucy.
“We’re no-one. Who are you?” snapped the girl.
“Lucy,” said Lucy, wearily.
“I’m Jack, she’s Fliss,” said the boy.
“What the hell, Jack,” said the girl, scowling.
“What’s up with your stomach?” said the boy, ignoring his sister and focusing on Lucy.
“I’m sick,” said Lucy.
“Is that gonna happen to us?” said Jack, showing the lesions on his own stomach.
“Maybe,” croaked Lucy, taking in more of the room.
Two sleeping bags were laid out on the floor, on top of mattresses and quilts. Lucy’s clothes were drying on a chair in the far corner, beside a solar powered lamp. A slither of evening sunlight crept out from behind the curtain. A kettle was boiling in the far corner, courtesy of a large solar battery.
“You need to leave,” said Fliss.
“And go where?” said Lucy, rubbing her scalp.
The girl shifted, uncertainly.
“You were wearing their clothes. Are you one of them?” said Jack.
“The Faithful? No. I was hiding in their community. But I got discovered. What’s with all the plants?” said Lucy.
“Food,” said Jack.
“You’re growing them?” said Lucy.
“We found them here,” said Fliss.
Convulsive Box Set Page 48
