Onslaught

by Drew Brown

  Even when he looked down at his feet, the image was still imprinted on his mind.

  In a tiny voice, the baby screamed.

  This was no nightmare. No, this was Hell...

  The baby’s cry was drowned out by the sound of the truck’s horn; the high, monotonous note sounded, stopped, and then started up again.

  Bogey clambered over to the nearest window to see outside. “Shit, come on,” he said, and rushed towards the front door.

  Too shocked to speak, Budd grabbed Juliette’s arm and pulled her after the soldier.

  She didn’t resist…

  33

  Budd kept hold of Juliette’s arm as he followed Bogey into the white fog. The sudden change from gloom to light stung his eyes. He looked beyond the wooden picnic tables and waist-high brick wall to the truck, which was already moving, turning away from the pub. Andy leaned from the open passenger door, waving at them to hurry.

  I’m not sure why he bothered. I couldn’t have gone any faster with wings…

  Sam was midway through maneuvering the heavy vehicle in a three-point turn, and the front wheels bounced up onto the pavement on the other side of the road. The reverse lights came on, shining white, and the truck started back towards them, its tailgate swinging to the left.

  Budd looked past the truck, and did not like what he saw.

  Up and down the road, as far as the fog would allow him to see, the buildings were spewing fast-movers. Doors swung open, windows shattered outwards, and gray-shrouded figures appeared against the dark dwellings. They jumped low fences and crashed through hedges, the runners all converging on the truck.

  Was it a trap? Had those things waited for us to leave the safety of the truck? Did this prove the creatures were gaining intelligence, like Deacon had foretold? Were they making plans? Coordinating? Or had they simply been alerted to the chance of food by the gunfire in the pub and come running like fat kids to the lunch bell?

  These were all very important questions.

  But I wasn’t thinking any of ’em.

  I was too busy screaming…

  Inside the cab, Sam released his hand from the horn and the shrill sound ceased. Without the mechanical noise, the air was thick with aggressive shrieks.

  “In the back,” Bogey shouted. He sprinted to the left, aiming for Andy and the cab’s passenger side. The maintenance man had wedged himself in the hinge of the open door and had one arm splayed across the windshield for balance. He held out the other for Bogey to grab.

  The soldier sprinted, closing the gap.

  Budd’s attention switched to the back of the truck. Ignoring the pathway, he angled his run to the left, taking the most direct route possible.

  Juliette was close behind.

  Budd jumped the low wall and opened his stride. He felt the tightness at the top of his leg give, and a damp sensation of fresh blood seeped from the wound.

  The shotgun weighed heavy in his arms.

  The nearest fast-movers were only ten feet away. Budd saw men, women, and children, some dressed but most not, swarming around them.

  The white reverse lights switched off and the truck lurched forwards. Black smoke puffed from the exhaust and the smell of burnt diesel filled Budd’s nostrils.

  The truck was close enough to touch.

  He threw himself over the tailgate, falling flat on his front. The shotgun slipped from his grasp and clattered across the metal floor until it stopped next to a heap of the gray blankets. The chainsaw slid from side to side.

  Juliette’s entry was more graceful, an effortless leap from the road into the truck. She scrambled to the flatbed’s furthest corner and lifted the chainsaw, her small hands dwarfed against the heavy tool.

  Budd grabbed the shotgun and knelt at the tailgate. He flipped open the shotgun’s chamber and replaced the spent shells with new ones he fished from his pants pocket. His gripped the red shells hard, trying to stop his fingers from trembling. When he was finished, he snapped the weapon back together and looked out along the road.

  A dozen or so fast-movers were chasing with outstretched arms. More joined from the sides of the truck, replacing those that vanished into the fog at the pack’s rear.

  The truck was still gaining speed. It bounced over the small bridge that marked the village’s extremity, scraping the underside of the chassis and almost throwing Budd over the tailgate.

  He regained his balance and aimed at the nearest fast-mover, a middle-aged man with blue-and-white-striped pajama bottoms. He pulled the first trigger and then moved his aim to the right, targeting a teenage girl with a reddish complexion to her bare face.

  He squeezed the second trigger.

  Both shots found their mark and the broken bodies cartwheeled to a halt amid sprays of blood. The fast-movers behind jumped and skirted the thrashing corpses, but they continued to slip further into the fog.

  Budd loaded two new shells. By the time he was done, only a single fast-mover was left in view, a young woman with short, peroxide-blond hair. She faded to nothing like a stage magician into a cloud of smoke.

  “So long, suckers,” Budd said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Which would have been much funnier if they were vampires…

  34

  Budd laid the shotgun down and crawled over to Juliette. She had her face pressed into the palms of her hands, her shoulders heaving as she cried. Budd sat beside her and placed his arm around her. At the contact, Juliette turned and held him tight, nuzzling her face against his neck so that her panting breaths moistened his skin.

  They sat in silence.

  Budd’s eyes drifted to the fog-filled void that followed the truck. From the twists and turns they were taking, he assumed that Bogey was giving Sam the necessary directions. They were weaving along side roads and narrower tracks, taking a much less direct route back to the airfield and the hangar.

  I hoped this was to throw the monsters off our trail. And not because we were lost...

  Juliette regained control of her breathing. “That poor child,” she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. “Monsieur Ashby, do you think it was one of them?”

  Good question.

  But not one I wanted to spend time considering. The image of Danek holding his baby above Minka after conducting the world’s first Z-section was gonna be difficult enough to blank from my mind…

  “I don’t wanna know,” Budd replied.

  “We left Danek behind.”

  “He’d been bitten.”

  And, well, he wasn’t exactly great company beforehand, what with the threats and hysteria. Oh, and the kidnapping…

  “What about the rest, Monsieur Ashby? Do you think Chris and the other lady escaped?”

  “Well, they weren’t trying to eat us,” Budd said. “So, that’s gotta be a positive.”

  For us…

  “I do not want to live in this world,” Juliette said. She watched as the road rolled away into the fog. “It is too much to endure.”

  Budd squeezed her hand. “I’ll fly us somewhere safe. It won’t be nice, or warm, but it will be safe. There ain’t many people on Hope Island, just a few scientists and the hired help. Maybe, with a bit of luck, we can even give Deacon’s code-thing to the geniuses so they can sort this mess out.”

  “Do you still remember the code?

  “Of course.”

  “Monsieur Ashby, do you think time travel is possible?”

  I kept my mouth shut for a bit. I didn’t want to tell her the truth, but I’d already told more than enough lies for one day. I had to come up with something else…

  “Monsieur Ashby, do you think it is possible?”

  “Deacon thought so,” Budd said. “And he was much smarter than me.”

  Juliette smiled. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Comforting me.”

  “No problem, kiddo. But, if you wake up and this is a nightmare, I’d really like some eggs and bacon for breakfast. Don’t tell me why, just g
ive me a big kiss.”

  Juliette laughed. “I will do that for you, I promise.”

  “You’d better.”

  Silence took the conversation’s place. Budd surveyed the scenery as it evaporated into the fog. They were passing through a small wood, the narrow road lined by trees that leaned in above them, creating a natural tunnel.

  He knew they were only a couple of minutes away from the airfield. “We’re nearly there.”

  “That is a shame,” Juliette said.

  I couldn’t have agreed more…

  35

  The truck parked in the shadow of the maintenance hangar. Juliette got out first and Budd followed her over the tailgate, leaving both the shotgun and chainsaw behind on the flatbed.

  “Are you okay, Monsieur Ashby?”

  Budd stretched and then rubbed his backside, trying to ease the dull ache caused by sitting on the truck’s metal floor. “Never better.”

  Sanders marched out of the hangar. “That took longer than you said.”

  Budd shrugged his shoulders. “Sue me.”

  Sanders held up his hand to stop Budd from continuing. “Mister Ashby, we still need to turn on the power. I’d like you back aboard the truck. Now.”

  “Really?” Budd said, shaking his head. “I told you before, I can draw you a map.”

  “Your knowledge is more use to me in the field.”

  “Not if I get eaten. And then who’ll fly the plane?”

  “It’s a chance I’ll take,” Sanders said.

  Harsh...

  Andy, Sam, and Bogey arrived from the front of the truck; the soldier was last, his MP-5 slung over his shoulder.

  “What’s t’problem?” Andy asked.

  “There isn’t one,” Sanders said. “Both of you, back in the truck.”

  “I’m sure you don’t need me,” Budd said again, aware that the conversation had left his objections behind.

  “Shut it, Ashby. I’m getting pretty tired of your bullshit.”

  He wasn’t at the top of my Christmas card list, either...

  “It will be okay, Monsieur Ashby. I will come, too.”

  “Actually, Miss, you’re not going anywhere,” Sanders said, pointing at Juliette with a flat hand. The soldier turned his attention to Bogey. “Keep her here and keep her safe. I don’t want Ashby compelled to go sauntering off again.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bogey said. He nodded over to the glass-walled recreation room. “In there, please.”

  Juliette shook her head.

  “Move it, miss.”

  “I want to go with Monsieur Ashby.”

  “Negative,” Sanders said. “I don’t need the distraction.”

  Juliette crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not a distraction.”

  Oh, I beg to differ...

  “Bogey, take her now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Juliette stepped away from Bogey before he could grab her arm. He reached for her again. “Come on, Miss. Let’s go.”

  Tensions were high, guns were loaded, and things had the potential to get sillier than a weekend-long clown convention…

  “Do as they say, honey. I’ll see you shortly.”

  Juliette shrugged off Bogey’s attempt to steer her away and walked over to Budd. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. “Be safe,” she said as she pulled away.

  Budd smiled. “I’ll try.”

  Bogey took hold of Juliette’s upper arm and guided her towards the hangar’s recreation room. Father McGee was waiting in the doorway, a mug of coffee in one hand and his silver flask in the other.

  Budd looked at Sanders. “Shall we?”

  “You,” the soldier said to Sam. “You’re driving. Get up front.”

  “Sure thing, dude,” the Californian replied as he vanished around the truck’s side, heading for the cab.

  Sanders looked between Budd and Andy. “Get in the back.”

  “Whatever you say, chief.”

  Budd clambered over the tailgate onto the flatbed. He gathered up the shotgun and chainsaw and sat between them.

  Andy waited for Budd to settle down before he climbed inside. He sat with his back to the tailgate.

  The truck’s engine rumbled into life.

  36

  Within a few seconds of the truck starting to move, the giant hangar had become nothing more than a monstrous shadow, which soon faded into oblivion.

  Andy cleared his throat. “Can I ask what t’situation is with you and Juliette? Sam said she’s famous.”

  “You can ask whatever the hell you want, buddy. But it doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer. More importantly, have you got any string on that tool belt of yours?”

  “String?”

  “String, rope, cord,” Budd elaborated, and then he held up the shotgun and pointed at two loops, one near the end of the barrel and one formed into the wooden stock. “I wanna make a sling so I can carry it on my shoulder.”

  “I see,” Andy said. The maintenance man took a small Stanley knife from his tool-belt, slid out the blade, and then cut a strip from the edge of the canvas covering. “This is pretty tough,” he said, slicing his knife through the material. “It should be perfect.”

  Budd watched the road vanish into the fog. The sight reminded him of the old cartoons where the same background was used over and over, constantly repeating as the characters moved across the screen.

  “Here you go,” Andy said, handing Budd a three-foot-long strip of the green canvas.

  Budd threaded it through the loops and tied off each end. When he was finished, he gave the makeshift sling a test tug. “Thanks, pal.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Andy replied.

  There was a deep funk in Andy’s voice, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t think of a single damn thing to say. What could possibly make a difference? Anyway, we were all tired, although, I have to admit, I was probably sprightlier than most. I’ve always been able to sleep through a crisis.

  Sometimes, it’s the safest thing to do…

  “Do you really think that mainland Europe has escaped this?” Andy asked. “Will France be safe?”

  I busied myself checking over the chainsaw, not even wanting to breathe. In all the excitement at the cabin and the village, I’d almost forgotten the others still believed we were heading for an extended European vacation. They still didn’t know that Deacon’s mistake had stolen the next decade of their lives.

  Of course, with that lunatic roasted, there seemed little sense in protecting his secret; I didn’t fancy the idea of the others turning on me when I flew the wrong way and dashed their hopes. No one likes to be the bearer of bad news—especially not me—but there’s a time and a place for everything.

  This seemed a much better time than when we were flying over the sea.

  At least I could jump outta the truck if Andy took it badly…

  “We’re not going to France,” Budd said. “Deacon lied. You were right, there were no radio communications; Europe’s just as screwed as us. Everywhere else, too. Deacon just told you that to save his skin.”

  Andy listened to Budd’s words without turning from the back of the truck. Eventually, he looked around and Budd saw a face that was torn with emotion. “Then, what are we trying to achieve here? Why don’t we go somewhere in t’wilderness an’ wait it out?”

  “I don’t understand enough to explain. But Deacon was adamant we had to make tracks. I know somewhere safe.”

  “You didn’t tell us t’truth, either. How do I know you are now?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You said he was trying to save his skin. What do you mean?”

  Before Budd could answer, the truck halted on noisy brakes. “I’ll explain it all later, boss.”

  “You’d better.”

  37

  Budd slung the shotgun over his right shoulder and then picked up the chainsaw. He didn’t pull the ripcord to start the motor, as he was fearful the noise would attract attention.

>   Andy climbed down onto the road and looked around, his handgun at the ready.

  The two cab doors opened and heavy feet dropped onto the road. Budd scrambled out of the truck last of all. They were in the shadow of the mansion.

  “Are you leaving t’truck running?” Andy said.

  “You bet, dude. Quick getaway.”

  Sam had stopped the truck close to the mansion’s oak front doors, at the foot of the curved stone steps. Budd examined what he could of the building. In both directions the tall, white-painted walls faded into the fog before they reached their end. He quickly let his eyes pass over the familiar details, the slate tiles and the oversized sash windows. Behind him, resting side by side in rows and columns upon a gravel parking area, were dozens and dozens of expensive cars.

  I didn’t dare to look at the parking lot.

  Even if each one only represented a single monster trapped inside, then I gave us no chance of reaching the back-up generator. The way I saw it, we had more chance of winning the lottery.

  And, somehow, I had a feeling that Saturday night’s draw would be off the television…

  “There’re too many of them,” Budd said, barely loud enough for Andy to hear above the truck’s idling engine. “Why don’t we find another airfield?”

  Better than anyone else, I knew the answer. The TimeTech birds were custom-built, modified for extra long range, designed specifically for flying in the Arctic, and had no need for a co-pilot.

  We weren’t gonna find something similar at a local flying school, even if we could get the electronics figured out…