Flesh Series: The Complete Box Set (Flesh, Skin, Flesh Series: Shorts)

by Kylie Scott

  Finn eased the pack back off his bad shoulder, rifled around until he found aspirin and a bottle of water. He picked up two tablets with careful fingers. “Open.” She did. He popped them on her tongue, then unscrewed the bottle of water and held it out to her. “Drink.”

  She did. “Thanks.”

  He gave a terse nod. “You’re welcome. Don’t worry about last night.”

  “Then thank you, again.”

  “Why are we always stopping and chatting when we should be moving our asses?” Daniel hissed from the front of the house.

  “Let’s go.” Finn urged her forward with a hand. “Do your new friend a favor and try not to get shot crossing that bridge out there, okay?”

  Her rabbit heart stuttered. “Yeah. Sure.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The quiet when they approached the old wooden railway bridge didn’t soothe Finn.

  Fog and smoke made their world gray. With dawn, the smell of lingering fires cut the air. Fire evoked all sorts of shit he didn’t need to be dwelling on. Memories of the bombings down south cluttered up his head. There’d been so much death and destruction, innocent civilians leveled where they stood. Charred flesh had a particular, pungent smell he’d never forget. He concentrated on his elbows to stop the shaking in his hands, an old trick a detective had taught him. Finn had to clear his thoughts and focus on the job to hand.

  It was not going well.

  The bridge would be tough, which sucked, seeing as it was their sole option. Heading back into the burnt remains of suburbia would be a death trap. They had to get across the river somehow.

  Some enterprising little shit had trashed the stairs leading up to the fenced-in walkway that ran alongside the train track. To cross the bridge they would have to climb the hill and walk along the railway tracks. It would take longer. Time was at a minimum.

  No one spoke.

  The railway was perched atop a mound, built up a couple of meters above street level. They turned and made their way up the slope. Someone’s stomach growled. Finn could empathize. They were running low on supplies; he had had no plans to cater for three.

  Loose gravel sprinkled the side of the hill, not the optimal climbing surface. They crawled more than walked, the tumbling stones similar to the roar of an avalanche in the pre-dawn quiet. Dan had one hand wrapped around Al’s arm, the other flat against the hill for balance. The gravel slid down the mound like a landslide.

  They were so exposed, wide open and awaiting an attack.

  “Easy, feel out your foothold. No rush,” the big guy instructed Ali in a low voice, which was good advice. The problem was, they needed to haul ass, clear the area as fast as possible.

  Finn scrambled to the top of the mound, checking every direction and seeing nothing. That did nothing to appease the itch between his shoulder blades.

  Time seemed to slow down to a deliberate, painful crawl while he watched them make their way up the incline. He wanted to grab her and run the minute she hit the top. Get her somewhere safe and never let her out again. Lock her up for her own protection.

  The world was too dangerous. He couldn’t keep her safe this way.

  “Let’s go,” Finn said.

  Dan appeared solid enough with a gun back in his hands, and Ali was managing. Just. What parts of her not bruised or dirty were white as a ghost. She panted from the crawl up the incline.

  Up ahead, the coal train looked like a giant hand had picked it up and draped it across the bridge. Two cars, one on each side, sat in the muddy water below, as if they were toes, testing the temperature. The fenced-in walkway beside the tracks would have been a dead end after all.

  The other two hadn’t seen it yet. There was no excuse, he was plain tired, and telling them versus waiting the minute or two at most that it would take …

  “Oh, no…” Ali saw it.

  Daniel groaned.

  “They’re going to try to trap us up here.” Daniel drew Ali in front of him with a hand to her hip. “No wonder they let us get this far.”

  “So where are they?” she asked, sneaking around the big guy’s side, as far as his grip allowed.

  “There’s got to be a way around.” Finn flashed them a smile, more teeth and determination than goodwill. He was feeling a little feral, all things given. “It’ll slow us down, not stop us. How about we not accommodate them by standing around?”

  Daniel ushered Ali on, fingers fixed around her arm. “Solid notion.”

  As the sun rose, long shadows crept out from everywhere—the trees lining the riverbank, the houses up and down the street. Color faded into shadows, providing plenty of cover for both sides.

  Their feet shuffled along the tracks, which were cluttered with coal spilled and scattered from the train wreck. The wreck they were heading straight toward. The same one they somehow had to magic their way past. Their only option lay beneath the iron beast.

  Maybe they should have tried the river. But with its swift current and so much debris in the water, the bridge had seemed the safer option.

  Finn tried to look everywhere at once, but the shadows and smoke prevented him from seeing much at all, which meant stumbling every other step. From the trickle of warm liquid down his back, he knew his shoulder had started bleeding. He could feel the wet bandage against the open wound. It was just another irritation to ignore.

  The assholes were out there. He knew it. His head quieted, the whole world shutting up, shutting down as he went to work. His mind took on a clarity he couldn’t explain.

  Finn caught the flare of light on the edge of his field of vision as the bottle arced through the air. It struck the chain wire fence separating pedestrians from trains and then fell toward the bridge. Two, three meters away at most.

  The Molotov dropped, smashed against the wooden boards of the walkway far too near to them. It lit up the old planks like tinder, the flames burning bright, hot and close. The stench of the petrol filled his head and clogged his throat, making him gag.

  “Go! Get to the train!” Finn yelled, turning to watch at least two of the bastards struggle up the side of the hill not far from where they had just come.

  Daniel hustled Al along, keeping her between them. They were only halfway across the bridge. A solid head start but no cause for celebrations yet. They still needed to slide beneath the wreck and escape into the maze of housing estates on the other side.

  Another two of the cocktails made their graceful descent. These ones cleared the fence to smash onto the train track, one of them exploding a bare few steps in front of Ali and Dan. It went up with a loud “whoosh”, black smoke rising into the air. They used it for cover even though it slowed them down.

  Ali pulled her arm out of the big guy’s grasp and ducked down, gun in hand, searching behind them. Finn ground his teeth. Two of the bastards were trying to follow in their footsteps by climbing up onto the tracks, but someone was also back on the riverbank.

  “Don’t stop!” Finn fired a few shots at the top of the mound, forcing the two bastards to keep their heads down. “Al!”

  She either ignored him or didn’t hear, pausing to fire off a few rounds at the trees. Her bruised face the picture of concentration, but her shots going wild because her aim was shit.

  They might have ideally wanted her alive, but even these dickheads had their limits. Someone shot at her from the bank.

  “Fuck’s sake.” Finn sprinted for her, heart jammed in his throat. He jumped boxes and rubbish and the thick steel train lines. He didn’t turn at the smash of glass behind him, nor the rush of warmth from the resulting fireball, hot on his tail, warming his back.

  The smoke started to dissipate around her. She fired again and a bellow of outrage could be heard from the riverbank below. Al had managed to hit someone.

  Her face broke into a self-satisfied grin as Daniel’s arm scooped her up and dragged her off.

  The two bastards had made good on the threat of clearing the top. Bullets flew wild, care of the smokescreen, but
a breeze stirred, their cover dispersing.

  The big guy charged straight ahead with Ali tight against him, struggling to keep up. Her feet barely touched the ground.

  Whatever had derailed the train lay up ahead. Here, the cars had buckled and tumbled, spilling their cargo of coal. The crash had wedged two big trucks together. Going over would leave them open and exposed. Going under was the only way.

  The others had apparently reached the same conclusion.

  Ali dropped to the ground and proceeded to burrow, pushing lumps of coal aside to make a tunnel between the wheels.

  “You’re next.” Finn ducked down on one knee beside Daniel, making for a smaller target. He took another shot at the two who had climbed the mound, kept them tucked behind a beam.

  “Nope, I win most likely to get jammed, so I go last,” Dan answered. Ali’s feet disappeared beneath the wagon and the big guy reloaded and fired. “Keep her close, Finn. You hear me?”

  Finn nodded, then pushed his pack through the gap ahead of him.

  The clearance was abysmal, and the going slow. He got a grip on the far railway line, dragging himself through the tight space. His fingers fought to keep their hold on the metal bar, and his shoulder throbbed in time with his heart. Coal dust choked him, making him cough. He tried to spit it out but it did no good. Everything in front of him was a dirty haze. The chances of Dan making it through were minimal to nil.

  “This side’s clear.” Al grabbed his pack and pushed it aside, took a step back as he squirmed low on his belly between the bridge and the wagon. Something hanging low scraped painfully along his spine.

  “Keep watch.” His foot caught on a beam, and he pushed off hard with the other, sending himself surging forward. His bad shoulder rammed into the edge of a metal wheel. Fireworks exploded through him. The world flashed white for a long, tense moment. He was not passing out. “Oh, you motherfucker.”

  “Come on.” Her hands wrapped around his good arm and tugged, prying him out. Finally, his torso cleared the truck and his knees came into play. “Finn, you’re bleeding again. Take the shirt off. We’ll tie it around your shoulder.”

  “Yup. Just a sec.” He really wanted to refrain from crying in front of her. Easier said than done. He covered the wound with his hand and applied pressure. It didn’t feel beneficial but had to be better than bleeding out beside the train wreck. “Okay.”

  “You two get moving,” the big guy yelled from the other side. “Right now.”

  Ali dropped onto hands and knees, gun clenched tight in her hand. “Come on, Daniel.”

  “The kid barely fit. I’ll need to go another way. Get moving, I’ll catch up.”

  “No! NO!” Al screamed, skittered forward, then stopped as guns fired up on the other side. There was the sound of someone hitting the water, an almighty splash followed by shouting from the bastards left behind.

  “He jumped in the river,” a helpful soul called out.

  They heard the bastards shooting at the water, calling out to someone to come join them on the bridge.

  Then nothing.

  Ali didn’t breathe. Her shoulders hunched over like she was drawing inward, protecting herself from harm. The woman grew smaller before Finn’s eyes and there wasn’t shit he could do.

  “You heard the man. Let’s move.” He grabbed her shirt, dragging her back. There was the sound of an engine revving up on the other side. His heart beat harder, faster, rattling his rib cage. “He’ll catch up. Move, Al. They’re going to be searching for a way around.”

  She stared at him with eyes blank as the dead. The material in his fist stretched and strained, ready to rip. The woman didn’t move an inch.

  “Al. I need you to keep it together.”

  Nothing.

  “Al!”

  Her gaze slid back to the wreck. A fine tremor worked through her, taking her over till she shook like she held a live wire in her hand.

  Finn grabbed her chin. Beneath the dirt her cheekbones stood out starkly, as if the life was being sucked out of her. She bucked against him, trying to turn away. He got up in her face and prayed she understood. They didn’t have time for this. Not now. No time for pain in his shoulder making him dizzy. No time for her to mourn. “Listen to me. We have to go. Now. Do you understand?”

  “He—”

  “No. Now!” he snapped.

  “Yes. Alright.” Her movements were sluggish, deliberate. She lugged his backpack up onto her shoulders, her back bowing beneath the weight, but her feet moving forward.

  He kept her in motion. People had survived worse, she would too.

  They stumbled along beside the tracks until a break in the fence gave them their exit. Smoke drifted overhead, the smell of burning wood and worse filling his head. He just needed to get them clear of the scene. Then they’d be fine. Clear of the scene and clear of this fucking city.

  No sound of engines getting closer. Nothing stirred. The sun had barely risen any further than when they had started out.

  “God, Finn.”

  “Hmm?”

  She was looking back. Not the wisest thing to do. Didn’t she know how that had worked out for Lot’s wife?

  The sun rose over a black wasteland, the remains of the city smoldering still. In the distance the fire raged on, consuming everything. Eerily similar to after the bombings, complete and utter devastation.

  “If the wind had turned…” Ali took it all in with a mix of numb wonder on her dusty face. “They’re going to have trouble getting back to the highway. It should give us some time.”

  Finn nodded, couldn’t speak. Yes, they were going to have a shit of a time. She spoke the truth.

  Finn bent double and dry heaved.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Finn was asleep. Ali had watched him for hours, less a few minutes spent running an errand. She had split her attention between him and the laundry door, and was guarding him, if the gun in her hand counted. At least it wasn’t shaking anymore.

  Finn hadn’t moved, not since she’d re-bandaged his shoulder and he had popped a magical pain pill. They spoke very little.

  He slept upright, his bare back propped against a concrete pillar, head canted back. The stark white bandage was bright against his tanned skin and the dark smudges of dried blood.

  The garage stank of old oil stains and laundry detergent. The back door had been open, barrel bolt intact, the roller door undamaged and locked down. It made for a perfect hidey-hole.

  Except for that one infected upstairs. Every now and then it would move. The sound of a dragging footstep or two would break the silence. Creepy. Happily, there was no internal staircase for it to come visiting.

  Between the infected and the biker assholes, they could easily get trapped here, sitting and waiting. They should be on the move. Despite their various injuries they could be hot-footing it across the countryside, getting to a safer place out of reach of those assholes, right now. Finn hadn’t needed to say it. She knew it.

  But she waited for Daniel. Apparently it hadn’t needed saying either. Finn had opened his mouth, looked at her face and shut it again without a word uttered. End of conversation. And so, they waited.

  Her mind wouldn’t still. The adrenalin surge from this morning had crashed, leaving far too much of everything bubbling around inside her brain, none of it good.

  Daniel would find them. He would. Deep down inside it almost felt like a test of faith or some such. She just had to believe and be patient, find something to occupy her mind.

  Not fixating on the door would be a positive start.

  There was a rainwater tank outside. A big modern number; the type everyone had scrambled to install during the drought. She pondered the basin beside the washing machine, the pipe jutting out from the brickwork above it. They both needed a bath after lying in the dirt last night and crawling beneath the train this morning.

  “You should try to sleep.” Finn’s eyes were open, half-lidded, but he hadn’t moved otherwise. He watched her with
a preternatural stillness and a calm most probably fake. Guilt slid through her.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “It’ll be okay, Al.”

  “He’ll be okay,” she corrected.

  Finn gave no response.

  For a long, tense moment silence reigned supreme, almost as if they were giving the dead a minute’s tribute. Only Daniel wasn’t dead. Not even a little.

  She wrestled the panic back down, subduing it one more time.

  “We should go upstairs, see if there’s food,” Finn said.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  His high forehead creased, and his nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. “If we’re quiet, keep our heads down, we’ll be okay. It’s a risk we need to take.”

  “No, Finn.”

  Like magic the thing upstairs chose then to bump and grind, as if it knew it were the topic of conversation.

  “Shit.” Finn straightened himself and stretched, rolling his good shoulder in slow motion. “Give me a sec. We’ll try the neighbor’s house.”

  “Finn, there’s no need. This lot was getting ready to run. The car has a box of groceries, not all of them have gone off. There’s not much else, a couple of blankets, some bottled water and beer. A stack of photo albums…” She cast her eyes toward the second story, wondering. Not a good place to go. “Anyway, we’re good for the immediate future.”

  “Alright.” This one word finished on a weary sigh. It seemed to say this man’s reserves were running low, and the blame lay with her. Dark shadows sat beneath his eyes and lines bracketed his mouth. They were still in danger because she refused to move on without Daniel, and he might not be coming.

  Except he was. Nothing else was acceptable.

  “He’ll come, Finn. You don’t know him. Dan is very resourceful.”

  Finn did the raising of one brow thing, giving her a long look. The type that said nothing and everything. The type bound to piss her off.

  “I know you think he’s—”

  “We should put a sign out, something only he’d recognize. What do you think would work best?” He cut her off neatly, face expressionless. Nothing to see here, move along.