“I mean, I mean, you’re here and the Reborn are here so I’m guessing you’re here for the Reborn, right? You’re going to kill them? You’re going to kill them, right?” He asked. His eyes were wild, and Melissa wasn’t sure whether his instability was due to heavy use of drugs.
“Mostly I’m just trying to get back to my friends so we can escape. You might be able to come with us if you would... ” Melissa started but he cut her off.
“No, I can’t leave. Can’t leave. This has been my home and I’ve lost so much already, so I need to stay - need to see them pay for what they did.” He explained as he started to pace back and forth, clearly excited in a manic way.
“Maybe I can help you.” Melissa told him. He stopped pacing and looked at her; their gazes locked for a few seconds and then he nodded, slipping the wrench into his belt and starting to wave the paper again.
“Yeah, maybe. It’s too much for one person, too much work. And they’ve got spies everywhere. Spies. People pretending to be innocent and then, when they’ve gathered a group around them, they turn them over to the Reborn... or they inject themselves with the virus. They did it here. Did it here.” He trailed off, his manic expression glazing over for a second as a dark memory obviously washed over him.
“What happened?” Melissa asked softly.
“Had a wife. Had a wife and a...” He trailed off. “Zombies got them when one of the spies injected themselves. Never heard someone scream so loudly. Couldn’t reach them. Couldn’t reach them.”
“What’s your name?” Melissa asked. He looked at her, bemused at first and then seemed to comprehend what she was saying.
“Charlie.”
“Well, Charlie, how about we work together.”
“It’s so strange.” He said, starting to pace again. “So strange. They were herding people onto helicopters. Whole block was locked down. Snipers on the rooftops, patrols on the streets. Back and forth, watching for anyone. Back and forth. Had to be careful to get by them. Had to be careful. Managed to snag a couple of them, dragged them down here, and made them pay for what they’d done. Made them pay. Took their heart monitors off, took their collars off. Took their other gear and then slit their achilles tendon. Infected got them. Made them suffer the fate they make others suffer.” Charlie rambled, confirming what Melissa suspected about the blood stains on the ground beneath her. “But then... it was so strange. So strange. They left. Not sure why they pulled out. Not sure. Unless...” He trailed off, the manic, slightly erratic movements increasing as his addled mind considered something.
“Unless what, Charlie?”
He stopped and looked at her, aggression returning onto his face.
“Well, how much of a coincidence is it that you’re here now? You’re here and the Reborn go away. You. You. What did you do? Why were you skulking around on the rooftop? Admiring your handiwork?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Melissa answered.
“You’re one of them aren’t you? All those people in the Seraph die and you walk out unharmed?”
“I was beaten, bitten, shot and stabbed, Charlie.”
“But alive! You’re alive! That’s the big trick isn’t it? While we’re all focusing on you your cronies work against us. You’re the Teacher! It makes so much sense!” Charlie announced, pacing. Melissa knew the situation was turning. She had no other choice.
“Charlie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Apples.”
“Huh?” He questioned.
Rochelle started rattling her handcuffs and banging the metal against the pipes.
“Hey!” Rochelle called out, stamping her feet.
Charlie turned to look at what she was doing, his hand drifting towards the wrench in his belt. Melissa swung back and forth a couple of times to gain some momentum while her captor was preoccupied, and then swung forward as hard as she could, lifting her legs high. Charlie was a couple of feet away from her, but she was able to get her knees over his shoulders, and then she crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs together until she could feel his throat between her legs. He clawed furiously at her jeans, trying to get his meaty hands in a good enough grip to wrench her legs apart and cease her choking maneuver. Melissa roared angrily and tightened her legs even harder; leveraging one leg over the other to increase the pressure on Charlie’s neck. He struggled, trying to drop down and escape or move side to side. Melissa endeavored to close her ears to his gasping as he tried desperately to draw air into his lungs. She had to stay focused: it was him or them, and she couldn’t afford the wave of sympathy she felt for the sadness he had endured to overwhelm her. He fought to get a purchase on her legs with his hands, which would enable him to wrench them apart - while a gurgling, wheezing sound escaping his closed throat. Melissa felt more than a twinge of guilt. He was obviously unhinged, and he wasn’t inherently evil, unlike the people she’d killed before. The guilt was almost enough for Melissa to relax her legs, to allow a small puff of air into his dying body... but she didn’t. If anything, the survivor instinct within her caused her to tighten her grip a fraction more, twisting her legs to apply more pressure. She knew if she let him go he’d kill her - and Rochelle would be next... and what would happen to Roy and his wife then? It was kill or be killed, and although a passing thought suggested if he went weak she might be able to stop strangling him and instead render him unconscious... she squashed that small hope. If she couldn’t get to the key of the shackles before he regained consciousness, death would be certain for both her and Rochelle.
Charlie went weak, his clawing hands only making a half hearted, less urgent attempt to prize himself from Melissa’s vice-like grip. His body felt heavier as he began to sag beneath her. She held him tight, not wanting his body to drop in an uncontrolled way; if she was taking Charlie’s life, she had to ensure she would be able to relieve his corpse of the means to escape.
“Sorry, Charlie.” Melissa told him again, feeling his hands barely patting at her legs now. Charlie went heavy, his limbs falling to the sides of his body, as his body went limp. Melissa was sure she had heard some bones break or a sickening crunch of some kind, but she held on tight. She’d seen movies where people played dead in situations like this, and she wanted to make sure that when she released him, Charlie wasn’t going to be able recover and make use of the wrench still tucked in his belt.
Melissa held him in that deadly embrace for she didn’t know how long. Her heart was thudding and her muscles ached both from the unusual stressed position, and the additional weight of Charlie’s dead body. Melissa breathed deeply, trying to calm herself and think of a plan which would lead to gaining her freedom, which would have to be quick as he was no lightweight.
“Is he dead?” Rochelle asked quietly.
“Yes.” Melissa responded firmly. Her arms were hurting and she needed to decide what to do with Charlie’s corpse.
“Oh, God! Did you have to kill him?” Rochelle asked. Melissa glanced at her and saw the shock on her face.
“Do you think I enjoyed it?” Melissa snapped back. “He was unstable. At any given moment he could have used that wrench and you wouldn’t be here!” She retorted breathlessly. “Would have preferred that? It was him or us.” Melissa ground out, then she fell silent until Rochelle’s naivety no longer irritated her and she was able to speak without venting the hostility she felt at her assumption she had taken his life so easily.
“Listen, I can’t hold onto him much longer, I’m going to have to drop him. When I do, one of us has to search his body for his keys. How far can you reach out with your legs from there?”
Rochelle shifted, moving her body awkwardly and slowly until she had stretched out as far as she could. Her feet weren’t far from where Melissa was hanging with Charlie’s body. It seemed like a better plan than breaking a digit, and so Melissa began to explain what she was going to do.
“Okay, Rochelle, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to swing Charlie in your direction and try to drop him eit
her on your legs or as close to them as possible. Once he’s down, you need to drag him closer so that you can search him for his keys or something you can use to get free. Do that, and then help me. Do you understand, Rochelle?”
“Oh God, oh God...” Rochelle started muttering to herself.
“Do you understand?” Melissa demanded more firmly.
“Yes, yes. I’ll do it. I can do it.”
Melissa sighed, and then nodded.
“Alright, here we go.” Melissa stated.
Melissa began to swing a little, Charlie’s heavy, lifeless corpse not granting her much momentum, but with enough effort she was able to move his body back and forth. It was difficult, but Melissa was certain she could release him then let gravity do the rest of the work.
“Get ready!” Melissa called out and then, at the end of the swing closest to Rochelle, opened her legs. His body slumped forward, his head landing between her shins and his shoulders somewhere near her boots.
Rochelle let out a revolted sound, but began to shift her legs and angle her feet - doing her best to hook the body with them - and then she began to carefully retract her legs. Charlie’s body was slowly carried toward her. Melissa watched hopefully, praying silently that Rochelle would be able to carry out the task. Her own survival, she admitted, had literally been taken out of her hands; little wonder she was feeling anxious. Not since before Galgambwe had she felt so inept nor had to rely on someone else to ensure her safety. And yet, it also annoyed her to have to depend entirely on someone else to regain her freedom. It hadn’t been something she’d planned for, more an opportunity she’d seen as she glanced across at her, but it had taken a lot self-persuasion to place her trust in Rochelle - a woman she barely knew - but she had been forced to admit she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she herself would be able to reach Charlie’s body - even had she taken the brutal step of breaking her thumb and hanging by one arm. It was the best chance they both had... but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Keep going Rochelle, you’re doing great.” Melissa encouraged, watching as Rochelle’s legs came to a stop. Charlie’s upper body was at her midsection, and now she needed to get him into a position where she’d be able to search him. She shifted with difficulty, dragging his body a little to the side before using her knees to roll him off onto the space between the washing machine and herself. Once he was in place, Rochelle scooted out of the way, rose up onto her knees and just managed to reach out and grab his vest with her free hand to drag him up a little more. Once he was in a better position, Rochelle searched him, though she was impeded by the handcuffs. It took several long, tense moments, but when Rochelle gasped in excitement, Melissa knew she’d found something.
“What is it?” Melissa asked eagerly.
“Keys!” Rochelle exclaimed, pulling a small ring from his pocket and holding it up. There were a few different sized keys on it, and Melissa fervently hoped that amongst them would be the keys to her shackles and Rochelle’s handcuffs.
“Try the smallest one in your handcuffs, then get over here and see what you can do for me.” Melissa instructed. It took a minute or two, but then Rochelle was able to free herself, letting out an exultant cry as she released her hand. She rose stiffly to her feet and rubbed her wrist, then she hurried over to Melissa and moved behind her. Several minutes of fiddling followed; the metallic sound of keys being tried unsuccessfully in the locks the only information Melissa had to work with. There hadn’t been many keys on the ring, and she was starting to wonder if the key to her freedom lay somewhere else when suddenly, the shackle on her left hand came away and Melissa’s arm dropped down, her feet dropping too and putting extra strain on her right shoulder. The pain crescendoed and Melissa first gasped then issued small, anguished groans through gritted teeth. Rochelle quickly stepped to her other side and a moment later, Melissa was free. She fell to her knees and then shifted awkwardly to her rear, trying to let her muscles relax and thereby stop her body screaming from the stressful position it had latterly, hurriedly been released from.
“Are you okay?” Rochelle questioned.
“Yeah,” Melissa issued breathlessly. “Give me a minute and we can start moving.”
“Okay.” Rochelle responded. She stood nearby but said nothing more.
“He did tell us something useful, however.” Melissa commented after her heart rate had returned more or less to normal. She spoke more to herself than Rochelle, a troubled thought prompted by a regretful glance at Charlie’s corpse.
“What’s that?” Rochelle enquired.
“The Reborn let us get close enough to see those helicopters. That means they knew we, or I, were heading that way. But how could they have known? How could they have been sure I would even make it that far?” Melissa wondered aloud. She replayed the journey as best she could in her mind. There had been streets which were blocked off by overturned cars and other debris, and others which were completely overrun with the infected. Melissa hypothesized that the infected could’ve been herded onto those streets to try and force her down a given path but, ultimately, what was the point? To prove to Melissa that they weren’t completely evil? That they were saving some people? It made sense, if you looked at it from their twisted way of thinking. After all, she was the ‘Witness’, she was supposed to see certain things. However, this brought her to another thought. If they guided her, it meant they’d intended her to escape from the market - not a massive stretch of the imagination as they didn’t secure the area properly, something of an oversight Melissa had first thought, but, she thought reflectively, perhaps not. Following that thought on, if they’d intended her to escape from the market that meant they had either drawn her there on purpose or they had followed her. The former meant that Rochelle had been bait, or perhaps complicit in some capacity; the latter meant that they likely knew where the Ancillary was and the whole “lead us back to the Ancillary” speech the team leader had given her was another lie... and if they were actually at the police station, that could be why Roy had sounded so weird, but surely he would have found a less confusing way to let her know if that hypothesis was right?
Melissa’s head swam with confusing thoughts and uncertain ideas. She started to stand up, making a few small decisions and deciding to leave the bigger questions for the future. The first decision was that she wouldn’t let Rochelle walk behind her again, just in case, and the second was that after finding her supplies, she needed to contact Roy and let him know that the Reborn may know where he is... and maybe his response would nullify her previous suspicions and concern. After that, she needed to find out if Charlie had a first aid kit so that she could tend to the wound on her head.
Chapter Eight
“You’ve done well, Mr. Snipes. You’re now that much closer to being reunited with your wife.” The Ancillary cooed at Roy.
“Damn you.”
“I’ll let you have that, Mr. Snipes, because you’ve done good work. Now we just need to wait for the Witness to return and we can see about getting you to your wife.”
Roy was ready to move away when Melissa’s voice came through on the radio. He looked at the Ancillary, and then back at the radio.
“I’d answer that, Mr. Snipes. It might be important.” The Ancillary counseled.
Tentatively, Roy reached for the radio, unclipped it and answered.
“I’m here, Melissa.”
“Roy, there’s a really good chance that the Reborn know where you are.”
“Okay.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Melissa asked incredulously.
“It’s been pretty hectic here... I’m just worn down.”
“Alright.” Melissa responded, but despite the voice distortion on the radio, it was clear from the tone of her voice that his excuse was dubious at best. “Anyway, just in case they’re listening I won’t say too much. I just wanted you to know we got a little off course and now we’re on the move again. Keep your eyes peeled and if you need us we’ll get there
as quick as we can.”
“Understood.”
“Have you heard from Kevin?”
“He’s still radio silent.”
“I think we’d better reconnect with you and then go and look for him. We could use some more ammo and maybe another gun. Is your collar still working?”
Roy looked down and checked before answering.
“It is.”
“Well, they killed mine so keep checking it. If it goes out... well, you know what that means. I just hope Kevin’s is still active because...”
“I’ll go to one of the upper windows and keep an eye out for you.” He interposed, concluding a little abruptly with: “Stay safe, Melissa.”
“You too, Roy.” Melissa said, and when she said no more, Roy clipped the radio back onto his vest and then looked at the Ancillary.
“Good, Mister Snipes. It’s important the Witness doesn’t discover what you know or what you’re prepared to do. If she doesn’t see the things we’ve set out for her to see, then she won’t understand the importance of what we’re trying to do.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to let you out of your cell.” Roy scoffed.
“I’ve been in worse places, Mr. Snipes. This cell has every luxury I need: a toilet - albeit one that’s a bit too unclean for my taste - a place to sleep, and the security of walls.”
“You really think that, don’t you? Because of who you are and what you’ve done I once thought you spun those lies just to keep people off guard. But after what you’ve said, after what I know happened to you... this is really who you are, isn’t it?”
“Is that so surprising, Mr. Snipes? My views on the world may not be the same as yours but, like you, I believe them.”
“I just can’t see how you can rationalize killing so many innocent people. It’s... inhuman.”
“You know that our forces are equipped with heart rate monitors that administer the virus to them in the moment of death, bringing them back to further their service?” The Ancillary questioned. Roy nodded in response. “We’ve recruited heavily from mercenary forces around the world, vetting people to ensure they are aligned with our views. We’ve also drawn from a vast number of other sources. What we promise them once the work is done is more than enough to convince them to join us, but no matter the origin of the soldier, before they can be deployed they have to undergo some genetic screening. To be a front line soldier you have to be susceptible to the Reborn virus; there isn’t one person out in the field right now who couldn’t become one of the infected. Why do you think that is?”
A World Reborn (Book 2): Global Outbreak Page 15
