by Stuart Keane
"Like I said, I'm bloody good at my job."
"But, the conversation has come to an end. For now. However, I feel I should warn you about one thing. At the end of it all, when you're panting for breath in my arms, when your energy has deserted you because your dignity has shattered into a million pieces, and while my seed is dribbling down your thighs during that final moment, I will slit your throat slowly. That final gasp as the life starts to leave your beautiful body is my moment of fulfilment. And as the blood streams down your chest and trickles between that wonderful bosom, I will take my cock and desecrate your body once more. No one can stop me; no one has ever stopped me. You certainly won't be the first to do so."
"You really are one deluded fucker."
"I know what I want. And I take it."
Melanie flicked her gaze to the window. "How do you plan to escape? Give me that, I deserve to know how. Going through the door is a certain death sentence."
"I have my ways." David stood up and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves. "I have my ways, I'm a survivor."
Melanie shuffled, easing to her feet, playing to the ruse. "So share. What do you have to lose? If you're so certain I'm going to die in the next hour or so, you might as well tell me."
David said nothing. He didn’t have an answer.
Melanie smiled. Bingo.
"You don’t have a plan, do you?"
David unbuttoned his collar. "You know what? For a woman with astute qualities, a beauty like few before her, and a bosom to die for, your voice is fucking annoying. It'll make strangling you all the more enjoyable."
Melanie smiled. "You're a fraud."
"And you're a dead woman."
David stepped forward, lifted the coffee table and launched it across the room. The small wooden structure curled through the air and smashed against the wall, shattering to the carpet with muffled thuds. Now, nothing stood between him and Melanie.
She ran.
Towards the window.
Lifting it with ease, an action born out of muscle memory from years of routine practice, she opened the window and slid through the opening headfirst. The wind buffeted her in the face, whipping her hair behind her. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh as the biting air snaked down her cleavage and beneath her thin dress.
David watched her go, amused and partially surprised by her actions. His first thought was simple; she's going to fall to her death. However, the enthusiasm and speed at which she ran for the opening alerted his brain to a new possibility. It triggered an element of doubt that removed the confident smile from his face.
She knows something.
Bitch.
He shuffled into action.
Melanie's shapely legs disappeared through the window.
"No!" David screamed. He paused, ducked his head, and poked it through the opening.
Melanie was gone.
David stared into the street below, looking for the woman. He saw nothing but empty concrete and parked cars. Empty shops stood abandoned. In the distance, he saw a dark group of shapes on the horizon.
"What the…"
Melanie's bare foot blasted him in the face.
The momentum pushed David to the right, smashing him against the windowsill and winding him. A second kick shattered several teeth and split the inside of his cheek. Blood and saliva oozed from his torn mouth, followed by a dislodged molar. The tooth veered into the wind and curled to the street below. He glanced up, groaning.
Melanie was standing on a wide ledge, each arm curled around a row of bricks. A makeshift fire escape protected by the structure of the building itself, with a ladder that led to the roof. It provided her support, and held her in position as she lashed out at David. A third kick glanced off his skull as he fell back into her office. He crumpled to the carpet.
Melanie began to climb, fighting the wind.
"No!" David screamed, his mouth swollen. "No!"
Climbing to his feet, he poked his head through the window, found the ledge and began to follow. Melanie disappeared onto the roof as he eased through the window. Bracing himself on the narrow ledge, he moved to the ladder.
David smiled. "You can't gehhhhh awaaaaa bichhhhhh!"
THIRTEEN
The local Tesco stood before them, vast and empty. Four sets of hungry eyes surveyed the store and sized up a whole list of potential acquisitions. Rows and rows of shelves filled with stock sat before them, theirs for the taking, a wealth of supplies. Food and clothes, books and magazines, drink and alcohol. With silence their only companion, they moved forward, pushing two trolleys through the automatic doors.
Goodright narrowed her eyes, unsure. "Stick together, two and two, okay? Morgan, you come with me. Bruce, with Harrison. We'll meet back here in thirty. Any trouble, knock a trolley over. It'll attract less attention than a gunshot. Remember, we might not be alone in here. There's a hundred hiding places."
All of them nodded in unison.
"Go. Shop," Goodright said, finally smiling.
They parted ways, the female couple heading left, the males heading right.
Morgan steered into the sweets aisle and halted, her wide eyes studying the shelves. A wide range of confectionary stared back at her. "Isn't this … you know … illegal?"
Goodright nodded, and dropped some Turkish Delight into the trolley. "Probably, but, if society has crumbled as we suspect, we have nothing to worry about."
"And if not?" Morgan said. She held up a giant bag of Haribo.
"We'll have to pay it back. Simple."
Smiling, the younger woman dropped the sweets into the trolley. She added three more. "I used to be a shoplifter. It … it was a compulsion, you know? I was obsessed with taking stuff. Kleptomania. I think that’s what they call it."
Goodright sighed. "So this whole looting thing is buying into your one weakness? Way to make me feel terrible."
"No, I didn’t mean it—"
"I'm joking, Morgan."
The girl blushed. "Sorry. I've … I usually bottle it in front of the fil … the police."
"Filth. Lovely word. How does such a pretty girl get such a potty mouth?"
"I don’t know. My mother taught me all I know. So … ill-advised parenting. That might answer your question."
Goodright nodded. "You don’t need to explain it. My upbringing wasn't much better."
Morgan lifted a whole tray of Revels from the shelf and dumped them into the trolley. The bags rolled over one another and settled on the bottom. "Really?"
"Yeah. My life was painfully clichéd at one point. I managed to turn it around, but I still know the tricks. Picking locks, removing magnetised tags, stuff like that. It stays with you. As it happens, those particular skills come in handy when you're on the right side of the law."
"I bet." Morgan selected seven boxes of mint Oreos and added them to the haul. "That mean you can spot a shoplifter a mile away?"
Goodright nodded. "Unfortunately. You remember the signs, the tics, and the mannerisms. That moment of uncertainly before pulling off the crime. Dead giveaway. No one can hide it."
"Gonna take me in if we get back to normal?"
Goodright shook her head. "No. This … this whole thing isn't normal. It's early days yet, but I don’t even know if we … society can come back from it."
"A negative attitude. Way to fill me with confidence."
"I'm honest too. I'm not going to sugar-coat the truth. The sooner we accept our position, the easier it is to move on and survive."
Morgan tossed a bag of Cheetos into the trolley. Trepidation entered her voice, wavering her speech. "Will we survive?"
"I believe so. Harrison is capable; Bruce has balls for a kid his age. We have a good group."
The young girl nodded, biting her lip. "I … I thought I was a goner. You know, back in the store, before you arrived. Trent just … he flipped. Stabbed Dee and went mental. Such a docile lad … he wouldn’t have harmed a fly. It's this … whatever it is. It played on his mind and turned him into a psych
o." She glanced down at the dried blood on her clothes and sighed. "He was so normal before, you know?"
"Everyone acts differently. It's unpredictable. The stress of this sort of thing … well, I'm sure we'll find out how severe it is. We just need to be prepared for the unexpected."
Morgan nodded. Her eyes scanned the contents of the trolley. "Speaking of which, if we're in this for the long haul, I need … we need some lady things."
Goodright smiled. "Yes, and let's get you some new duds. We need to burn that shirt."
"Can I get some Pepsi?"
Harrison nodded. "Sure."
Bruce reached for a twenty-four pack and looped his tiny hand around the handle. Harrison chuckled as he watched, a large bottle of bourbon in one hand. Bruce hoisted the blue box into the trolley, almost falling over as he did so. Bruce stared at his companion. "You could have helped me, you know?"
"It was more fun to observe."
"Arsehole."
Harrison walked over and retrieved three more boxes. Adding them to the trolley, he smiled. "We might need these. While you're here, grab some Dr Pepper and some Fanta from the shelf there. I have a feeling you might enjoy those too."
Bruce smiled, and followed his instructions, adding the desired contents to their pile. "They don’t let us drink fizzy drinks in the home. They say it rots your teeth and your faculties."
Harrison nodded. "Only half true. The sugar in the drinks will do damage in the long-term. If you've never had them, though, you have little to worry about."
"Good. The Pepsi is amazing."
Harrison chortled. "I know, right?"
They pushed the trolley across the centre aisle and into the next. Bruce's eyes lit up. Within seconds, he was filling his arms with multipacks of beef Monster Munch. Harrison chuckled as he threw several bags of crisps into the trolley. "We really should get some healthy food, but most of it is fresh. It won't keep."
"Shame," Bruce uttered, the sarcasm obvious.
"No refrigerated stuff either. Again, it won't keep."
"Enough of the sensible nonsense now," Bruce mocked. "Where do they keep the chocolate?"
"Will we have running water?"
Goodright shrugged. "Not sure. Why?"
Morgan sighed. "I like to shower once in a while." A grimace crossed her face as she ran a hand through her knotty hair. "Ew."
Goodright smiled and turned, disappearing around the corner. Morgan hesitated and followed, but Goodright returned a second later. In each hand was a large crate of mineral water. She smiled. "Two litres, twelve bottles. If used sparingly, it should keep us going for a while. We can always resort to rainwater, if needed."
"And the boys?"
"Hygiene isn't their priority on a normal day. They'll be looking for an excuse not to wash."
"In that case, we should get some scented products," Morgan mused.
"Good call."
"When was the last time you had a bath?" Harrison broached the question as they emerged in the toiletries aisle. He selected a box of Sure deodorant. "Do they restrict you at the home?"
Bruce shook his head. "No, but it's not the most comfortable experience. A group of naked boys sharing the same bath water. I refuse out of principle."
"Seriously?"
"I think it’s a cost cutting measure. After all, no one is going to stand and watch as the boys bathe, to ensure we have a bath to ourselves. They cut corners where they can."
Harrison walked from shelf to shelf, selecting a range of products. With an arm full, he dumped them in the trolley. "Wherever we go, we'll make sure you get a decent bath, all to yourself. There's some things a man should experience, and you might not have the chance after the next few days."
Bruce nodded. "Thank you."
Harrison grinned. "We better grab some water too, in case running water becomes a thing of the past. You know what girls are like … don’t you?"
Bruce shook his head.
"Never mind. We have time. You're not going back to that home on my watch."
"They might not see it that way."
"They won't have a choice. If I need to, I'll file the adoption papers myself."
"It's not that simple."
"Trust me, Bruce. I know the law. You'll be fine."
Bruce nodded. He knew false hope, and it was staring him in the face. He'd tasted rejection before, and this was no different. Once again, he was setting up for a fall. He sighed. "If you say so."
"Besides, you're a hero. You saved Goodright's life earlier."
"Yeah. About that…"
"What?"
"I was aiming for the creature's head. I missed. I got lucky."
Harrison stared, and then chuckled.
Bruce groaned. "Please, don’t tell her. It's embarrassing."
"Your secret is safe with me. We men stick together. And regardless, she's still here because of you. You still hit the fucker. Give yourself some damn credit."
Morgan pushed the trolley to the checkout counter, the wheels squeaking beneath the tremendous weight of their acquired goods. Goodright stood back, smiling. "Go on. You do it. For once, no one will stop you."
Morgan chuckled and pushed the trolley to the other end of the walkway, skipping the till and the empty chair behind it. She stopped by the front doors and sighed. "That felt good."
Goodright followed. "Crime endorsed by the law. What has this world become?"
"Fun?"
Both women laughed.
Harrison and Bruce appeared from the frozen food aisle and wheeled their goods towards them. Goodright frowned. "Frozen goods?"
"Just curious. I didn’t pick anything up. I wanted to grab some burgers, for Bruce. He's been a little deprived in that home of his. No growing man should live like that."
"I see."
"I just said we'd drop by a McDonalds at some point."
Goodright smiled. "Now, that is a decision I can get behind."
"Get what you want?" Harrison asked Morgan, flicking his head to their trolley.
Morgan nodded. "Yes. You?"
"Oh yes. I just hope the van can hold it."
Goodright laughed. "Let's go find out."
*****
Xander gazed at the empty world around him, the isolated streets of Barrington void of any activity, any life. He studied a host of shadowy stoops and alleyway entrances, searching for any sign of those strange creatures. He saw nothing. His vehicle crawled through the town at a snail's pace, allowing him a personal experience, a first-hand glimpse of the carnage that was currently consuming his hometown.
Or, the lack thereof.
He sighed. "It's amazing, isn’t it?"
Alice steered the vehicle around a corner. "Sir?"
"How quiet and quaint the whole thing is. These things … whatever they are, they're a medical marvel. I expected strewn brains and sloshy innards smeared across the road, dead bodies, shambling corpses, blood spatters on walls, destroyed cars, smashed windows. Yet … I see none of those things. It's almost as if they're hiding from us, hiding their destruction from us, and lying in wait."
"Is that possible, sir?"
"Nothing is impossible, Alice. You know this."
She nodded.
He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed. "You're doing well. There might be a bright future for you yet."
"I hope so … sir." She forced a smile, but refused to make eye contact. She studied the street before her. Her weary eyes lingered on a thick lamppost for a few seconds and returned to the road, all thoughts of an intentional crash diminished.
He's too fast. Bide your time.
He isn’t the same since the … change.
He isn't your boyfriend anymore.
The sooner you realise that the better.
She nodded again. "I hope so, sir."
Xander shuffled in his seat. "Turn down here."
"Towards the police station?"
"Uh huh. I want to see what the boys and girls in blue are doing about this."
"We can’t be too sure. Not yet."
"And if they're holed up inside?"
"Well, we're armed, and they won't be." Xander tapped on the partition behind him, drawing a series of deep murmurs from the rear of the van. "Action stations, boys. Guns at the ready. We might have some company."
*****
Morgan pushed the empty trolley to the side. It veered to the right, curling into a bush. "Right, we're done. All packed up."
Harrison rubbed his chin. "Climb aboard. Let's get out of here. I don’t want to hang around any longer than necessary. We're sitting ducks on the street."
The group climbed into the vehicle. Harrison paused, his eyes flickering in their sockets. His gaze was miles away. Goodright noticed. "What?"
"I don’t know where to go. Barrington has been my life for …well, too long."
"Likewise, but we need to think logical. Avoid the big cities and built up areas, and head to open country. We want somewhere with a view, with minimal obstructions, where we can see these creatures coming. Preparation is everything. Somewhere with water would be good too, like the coast. If we put it behind us, it makes things simpler."
"Good call."
Bruce cleared his throat. "What about a pier?"
All eyes turned to the boy. Goodright frowned. "A pier?"
"Yes. It's on water, it's secure, and we can lockdown or bottleneck the only access. The changing tide and drenched sand will keep the creatures at bay. It has shelter, a place to store food. We can defend ourselves."
Silence filled the vehicle.
"Sounds like a plan," Goodright said.
Harrison nodded. "I'm in."
Morgan smiled. "Brighton Pier might be the best. It's the closest."
"Brighton it is."
Harrison shifted the vehicle into gear and pulled out onto the street. "Buckle up, kids. We have a road trip ahead of us."
FOURTEEN
Melanie sprinted across the rooftop and made for the next building. Dusty gravel bounced and pinged off her bare feet, the appendages bleeding raw and numb to the pain, her safety more a priority. She needed to put critical distance between herself and David, and needed to find somewhere to hide. Her office was a distant memory, several buildings behind her. She had the whole town of Barrington before her, a wealth of hidey-holes and safe places.
