What had happened to him, and the others?
She had seen him earlier in the queue and he had seemed fine, just another ordinary human being.
Whatever he was now was anything but human.
Snarling, it reached those furthest from the door and threw itself at them, and heart in her mouth, Lauren burst from her hiding place, literally dragging Brandon along behind her as she headed for the counter, intending to take the route that the security guard had just taken, gambling that there was maybe an exit that way.
In seconds she was beside the counter, hands pushing at Brandon as she urged him up and over, the young black man muttering irritably that he didn’t want to drop his book about animals as he began to crawl up onto the metal surface as if he had all the time in the world.
“Come on!” she hated herself for raising her voice, something knotting inside her as he flinched in fear, and she turned away, glancing at the doors, a whimper escaping her as she saw people on the floor being attacked by more of the white-skinned figures, blood pooling about them.
“What about our friend?” the innocent voice of Brandon suddenly asked and Lauren turned to find him standing upon the counter, one hand clasping his beloved book to his tracksuit, the other pointing past her, and grimacing she turned, her eyes settling upon the old woman.
“Go!” she gestured with a hand, as she began to walk away from the counter, her eyes locked on the frail old woman still seated at her table, “I will catch you up!”
“I am not allowed to wander off!” Brandon’s matter of fact statement had her turn to face him, her hands waving wildly at him as she grimaced.
“Go…just fucking go!”
He winced, head dipping to stare at his shoes for a moment, a look of infinite sadness upon his face before he began to climb slowly down on the other side of the counter, and grimacing, Lauren began to walk quickly towards where Mary was still sitting, the eyes of the nurse locked to the crowd, head shaking at the violence she saw.
Then suddenly the table was before her, and she reached out a hand, placing it upon the right shoulder of the old woman, “Mary!”
“Oh, hello dear” the Londoner turned her head, a smile creasing her features as she looked up into the nurse’s eyes, her head turning as she glanced about, “Lauren isn’t it? Where’s the lad?”
“Mary” the nurse winced, her eyes glancing at the scene of carnage by the doors, before looking back at the old woman, “What are you doing? We have to get out of here!”
Mary blinked, head shaking, “I have lived through a lot girl, if you think I am going to run because some idiots in face paint are having a ruck…”
“A ruck?” Lauren blinked, head shaking slowly.
“A ruck…a fight…a bit of a to-do!” Mary nodded, jerking a thumb towards the door, “My George would have kicked the shit out of this lot!”
“Please, Mary, come on!” Lauren reached down, placing a hand on the old woman’s arm, “We have to get out of here!”
The features of the grey-haired old woman were like stone as she gave a soft chuckle, head shaking, “I’m sorry love but I don’t run from wankers…I’m not scared of this lot!”
Blinking in disbelief, both impressed and terrified by the old woman’s words, the nurse shook her head, an idea suddenly occurring to her, “I know…but Brandon is…can you help me with him…please”
“The boy?” Mary rose to her feet, sudden concern on her features, “Where is he?”
“In the kitchen” Lauren gestured, leading the old woman by the crook of her right arm, “Can you come and see him with me please?”
“Of course love” Mary gave a nod, allowing herself to be led across the restaurant, towards the counter, and forcing a smile, Lauren glanced past her, trying not to cry out as she realised that there seemed to be more of the white-skinned figures than normal amid the crowd by the door.
“Oh” Mary paused as they neared the body of the woman that had been killed by the man, her free hand rising to her mouth and Lauren nodded, fighting the sudden urge to be sick as she saw her nose, lips and cheeks had been fully eaten away.
“This is bad Mary, we need to get out of here”
“Too fucking right” the old woman suddenly seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, as they reached the counter and she turned to glance at the door and the violent scene there, “What the fuck are they?”
“Ghouls!”
Lauren nearly cried out as the voice spoke from behind the counter, her head snapping about to find Brandon standing there, nodding wisely as he spoke again, “I think they might be ghouls”
Stunned, the nurse stared at him in shock for a moment then winced as she stared at the old woman, trying how to work out how she was going to get the old woman over the counter when suddenly, Brandon lifted a section of it high, revealing a small walkway to the other side, nodding as he spoke, “Oh and I found this”
She flinched as a sudden roar sounded and she spun about, a hand rising to brush her copper hair from her features as she stared at the doors, the hairs rising on the back of her neck as she saw two of the white-skinned figures rise from the bodies that they had been savaging and turned towards where she and her two companions stood watching, “Oh fuck me, no!”
“Come on!” the voice of Mary had her turning to find the old woman and Brandon on the other side of the counter, the features of Mary grim as she frantically beckoned the nurse towards her with a hand, “Fucking run!”
Chapter Nine
“Opinder...Opinder!” the black-haired, young woman was seated on the floor before the still form of her brother, one hand clasped to her mouth and the other hovering over the back of his bald scalp, as if afraid to touch his bare skin.
Standing behind her, Alice winced, head shaking as she stared down at the man that she had been speaking with just minutes before, his physical appearance changed so dramatically that she was almost unable to believe it was the same person.
Whereas before he had been heavily bearded, his skin a rich brown with a dark-blue turban upon his head, concealing the sight of his natural hair from strangers as per the dictates of his faith, now he was bald, and beardless, the cracked white skin that she had spied beneath the hem of his turban having somehow spread across his entire face and head, even the skin of his hands appearing to be suffering the same condition.
Yet what had caused it?
In her time as an embalmer she had seen more dead bodies than a normal person could imagine and had seen all manner of causes of death, but nothing like this. How had it spread so fast?
She cringed as the thought occurred to her and took a step back, a hand rising to cover her mouth and nose, the fear of infection coursing through her with the intensity of a wildfire.
As if sensing her movement, the young woman turned to glance up at her, a frown upon her tear stained face, and Alice extended her free hand, beckoning towards her, “Please…come here”
The woman shook her head quickly, finally placing her hand down upon the top of the head of her dead brother, her eyes closing, her lips moving and Alice cringed, wondering what the infection rate was for whatever the man had, her stomach lurching as she considered the deadly pandemic that had lain waste to the world.
Was this the third stage?
Had it returned to finish them all off?
Shaking her head, she took another step back, frowning as the woman stared down at her brother, trying desperately to remember what the dead man had called his sister and then it came to her in a flash, “Jiyaa…please”
The woman raised her head as she heard Alice speak her name, a look of confusion upon her features as she rose to her feet and turned to stare back at the embalmer, lips moving silently as if she wanted to speak but was unsure how.
Hadn’t her brother said she had not been in the country long? Did she not speak any English?
Shaking her head, Alice took a shaky breath, wanting more than anything to speak to the young woman and explai
n her concerns but she was unsure what nationality Jiyaa might even be.
It was obvious from the turban that Opinder had worn that he was a practising Sikh but that didn’t really help at all. She knew that the majority of Sikh’s came from the Punjab province situated in Northern India, but Sikhs lived all over the world.
Sighing heavily, she beckoned once more with her hand, her other gesturing for the young woman to cover her mouth and nose with her hand, then she froze, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush as she saw the feet of Opinder twitch.
“What?” she shook her head, her features twisting in confusion as she stared down at the man that she had been sure was dead, the man whose pulse she had been unable to find after his collapse. Had the skin about his wrists been too thick and calloused for her to feet his heartbeat?
Before her, Jiyaa noticed her stare, and turned, her gasp of elation loud as she had seen her brother’s hands struggling to push himself up from the floor, “Opinder!”
“Oh God no” Alice’s words had tasted like bitter acid in her mouth, her stomach lurching as she had seen the white, cracked and calloused features of the man stare up at his sister, his milky beige eyes locked to the face of Jiyaa as he had snarled like a wild animal, the sudden noise almost deafening in the confines of the chapel.
With mind-numbing speed and athleticism, the man suddenly threw himself forwards, his hands encircling the waist of his sibling, the weight of his body throwing his sister back to the ground in the aisle between the chairs. Jiyaa screamed in terror, and teeth snapping like a wild dog, Opinder crawled along her body, his right hand rising to hammer a punch down into her face. Without thinking, Alice stepped forwards, her right leg sweeping out in a flash, the toe of the Dr Marten boots that she wore constantly striking the snarling Opinder hard underneath the chin.
He grunted, beige eyes rolling and fell back from her, falling like a felled tree to the carpet beyond his sisters feet, and Alice hurried forwards, extending a hand to help Jiyaa stand, only to wince as she saw movement beside her.
With a snarl, the white-skinned figure of Opinder, already back upon his feet, grasped her by the arm that was reaching towards a wide-eyed Jiyaa and swung her across the chapel as if she were weightless, his strength terrifying. Heart in her mouth, Alice felt herself leave the floor, her body turning in the air as she sailed over the chairs on the left side of the chapel, arms and legs waving, and then she hit the wall beside the door hard.
With a grunt of shock and pain, she fell, crashing down atop the rack containing the leaflets she had been studying earlier, destroying the display, the contents of the rack scattering everywhere.
Dizzy, head aching, she somehow made it to her feet, leaning heavily upon the wall as she stared back at the siblings, a cry of shock escaping her as she saw Opinder grasp his sister by the bare right arm and bite down hard, head shaking.
With a scream of pain and terror, Jiyaa reached out her hands pushing at her brother’s chest, and Alice shouted, “Leave her the fuck alone!”
With a growl, Opinder released his bite upon his sister’s forearm, and turned to stare balefully at her, the embalmers blood turning to ice as she saw the hatred and hunger in his milky eyes, his bloodstained lips drawing back as he snarled. Then it screamed in agony as Jiyaa suddenly drew her left arm back from her brother’s chest and stabbed him in the right eye with the small curved knife she now held tight in her fingers.
With a roar like a bear, Opinder grasped at his sister with both hands, throwing her back against the wall away from him, and screaming she struck it hard and fell down atop the chairs beneath her, legs and arms at all angles as she groaned in shock and pain. Hands balled into fists, Opinder staggered back, body spinning wildly as he roared like the wounded beast he was, blood and more of that milky liquid pouring from the ruin of his eye socket down his face.
Off balance, he staggered into the right side of the aisle and nearly tripped, his arms swinging wildly as he lashed out, his powerful blows throwing chairs about as if they weighed nothing. Ducking as a chair crashed into the wall not far from where she stood frozen in shock, Alice watched, hope taking flight within her heart as the maddened man suddenly tripped and fell, his disorientated attempts to rise tangling him in the chairs he had been throwing about like confetti.
To her left, Jiyaa was trying to rise, blood running freely from her wounded right forearm, her left hand clasped to the small, curved knife, an expression of confusion upon the woman’s face.
“Come on!” Alice took a step towards her and raised an arm to beckon to the woman, wincing as pain from her collision with the wall and then the chapel floor surged through her upper back. This time Jiyaa responded to her gesture without any argument, the Sikh clambering past the chairs between them quickly to stand before her, a gasp of genuine surprise escaping Alice as the woman threw her arms about the embalmer, hugging her tight for a moment before stepping back, her eyes locked to those of Alice as she spoke slowly in whatever language she and Opinder hand been speaking in, nodding slowly.
“I’m sorry” Alice shook her head, “I don’t und…”
Her words trailed off as at the back of the chapel, the white-skinned man screeched at them, hands pushing at the carpet as it started to rise once more, and taking the hand of Jiyaa, Alice ran.
Chapter Ten
Victor had never liked running.
As a young boy, he had always been far more comfortable sitting reading books and comics than running around playing games with the other children in the street where he had lived.
Even as an adult he had never liked running.
Even after his life had been destroyed and he had been forced to rebuild it from the ground up, changing his entire lifestyle and outlook, growing physically stronger and tougher, he had never been fond of running. It just wasn’t his thing.
After all, like his gentle and studious father had always told him, a man should only run when he is chasing something or when he is being chased.
The latter certainly fit the bill now.
Gritting his teeth, his right hand wrapped about the right thigh of Moonshine, his left gripping his friends right arm as the injured man lay across his broad shoulders in a fireman’s lift, Victor ran on through the wheat field, his eyes fixed to the backs of the two Asian children running ahead.
Cursing as he nearly stumbled upon the uneven ground, a jolt of pain exploding in his right knee, the bearded ranger ran on, wanting more than anything to turn and look back at their pursuers but he didn’t, knowing that if he attempted to do so while carrying his awkward load, he was going to trip and fall, and then they, and the two children that they had somehow found themselves responsible for would be killed.
Yet in truth he didn’t need to turn to know how close they were on his tail, the snarls and grunts of the figures loud in the sudden stillness of the countryside, the crash of their path through the wheat almost deafening in its raw intensity, the ragged sound of his breathing filling his ears.
“Oh fuck!” the whimper from Moonshine atop his shoulders put an extra surge of energy into his step, his gut knotting as he pictured the white-skinned figures surging from the wheat behind them, dragging them down to be torn to pieces like they had done with the woman on the A66.
That had been just three of the creatures.
Yet as he had urged the children to run and dragged an arguing Moonshine atop his shoulders, Victor had seen three more of the white figures run from further along the dual carriageway to join the two rushing at them past the flames from the exploded petrol transporter.
What was wrong with the people?
Because he knew, despite the vast assortment of horror films that he had watched since he had rebuilt his life, that was what they really were.
People.
There were no such thing as monsters.
These were just people, driven mad by whatever was had turned their skin all hard and white.
Could it be another virus outbreak?
It didn’t look like any photos that he had seen of those infected with the virus that had besieged the known world for two years but in truth he hadn’t really paid it much attention, secreted away as he had been in his new home, turning his back on the world amid his guilt and grief.
Victor grimaced as he studied the girl running ahead through the wheat, her left hand clutched to that of what was obviously her younger brother, she probably about twelve and he six.
The same rough ages as his Rebecca and Rory.
He grimaced at the thought of his children, face twisting in grief as he recalled thinking that it had been them trapped within the car earlier, the sudden memories of that night five years before returning to him in a rush of pain, grief and fire.
“For fuck sake” he gave a growl, head shaking slightly as he ran onwards, wincing as upon his back, Moonshine spoke, raw fear in his voice.
“Are you OK, Dog”
“Don’t make me talk” Victor grimaced, head shaking once more, then he cursed, his blood running cold as he saw sudden movement in his peripheral vision, a white figure racing through the field of wheat some distance of to their left.
Heart in his mouth, he turned his head, watching the area where he had seen the movement then cursed once more as he saw one of the white-skinned figures running almost parallel to them.
Was it one of the five he had seen or another?
Grimacing at the thought, he nodded with his head, “Look over there!”
“Oh fuck my life” Moonshine’s whine had been loud, “Fucking Hell, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know”
“Where are we going?”
Gritting his teeth, resisting the urge to tell his friend to shut the fuck up, knowing that he had no real answer to the last question, Victor turned back to the children, nausea coursing through him as he realised that they seemed closer now.
Ghoul: The Beginning Page 5
