The Cerebral Series (Book 1): Outbreak

by Stuart Keane

  Goodright said nothing.

  He continued, "I'm a wise man; I can see trends and events before others, just as my father did. It made him rich, and it’ll keep me alive in this … whatever this is. After all, money will soon be meaningless. As soon as I spotted the creatures, I went to work. Unlike others … unlike you."

  Tim returned with Morgan. He eased the woman to her knees beside her comrades. "Just the two, sir. This girl and another injured woman. She explained that she fell from a building. She's pretty beaten up, but alive."

  "Good. Anyone else?"

  Tim shook his head. "No, sir."

  "Excellent." Xander stepped forward, unaware of the brief look that passed between Goodright and Harrison. Addressing Morgan, he plastered a fake grin onto his face. "Hello, young lady."

  Morgan eyed Harrison and Goodright. She remained silent, ignoring Xander.

  "Silence. People have this weird illusion that it protects them. You have the right to remain silent and all that bullshit." He slapped Morgan across the face. She collapsed to the ground with a grunt. "In my world, it doesn’t. Silence will get you killed. You will answer when asked, when beckoned, is that clear?"

  Morgan struggled back to her knees. She rubbed her face, jumped to her feet and ran at Xander. He stepped to the side and kicked her legs out from beneath her. Morgan clattered to the concrete and landed on her front. Xander bent down, clutched her by the back of her new blouse and yanked the woman to her feet. With an elbow, he drove it into the woman's face twice before releasing her, knocking Morgan to the ground. Her head bounced off the concrete.

  Harrison started in, but collapsed in pain. Goodright shifted. "Leave the girl alone."

  "She started it. She should know better since I just told you I'm in charge. People really should listen. It's pretty clear that I own you right now."

  Morgan rolled onto her back, blood sluicing down her face. "Fuck you."

  Xander chuckled. "Your mother would be ashamed."

  The woman said nothing.

  "Oh. That means no one will miss you then."

  Goodright leaned in, protecting her comrade. "She's with us. She comes with us. She's just scared, an innocent person in all this. Please."

  Xander cracked his knuckles. "You're pleading with me now?"

  Goodright paused and nodded. "Yes."

  "Very well. But she needs to prove herself."

  "She knows these creatures," Goodright uttered. "Better than most of you. We got this far because she's a survivor. She can be of use."

  "Really? Her?"

  Goodright nodded.

  Xander sighed. "Well, so be it."

  Goodright relaxed a little. Harrison's eyes were closing, the sweat dripping off his face. Morgan wiped her face, smearing blood all over her forearm. Xander walked over and dropped the Beretta at her feet. "You want a test, you got it."

  Morgan spat on the ground, her frothy phlegm pink with blood. She picked up the gun.

  Xander held up a hand. "Before you think about shooting me … you might want to address those creatures coming up behind you."

  Morgan turned and saw two creatures shuffling towards them. Goodright jumped to her feet to help, but Xander knocked her back down with a swift kick in the leg. "This is her fight, not yours. Tim, get these two in the van and get ready to roll. This girl … we'll see how good she is."

  Tim followed his command. He hoisted Harrison to his feet and pushed Goodright in front of him. Alice retreated too, and hustled to their van. Xander stood back, but remained on the street, watching Morgan. The young woman worked the pistol. She cocked the hammer and aimed, her hands wobbly from the pain and terror bursting through her body.

  Xander grinned. "They're closing in, chickadee."

  Morgan stood up and aimed at the first creature. She fired seven rounds, three of which blistered the torso with a spread of shots. Charred flesh and ragged clothing spun into the air, slapping the window of the shop beside them. The creature collapsed to the ground.

  The second continued.

  Breathing out, Morgan fired, hitting the creature in in the knee. The leg crumpled beneath its weight with a sickening crunch and the figure slumped forward. Morgan dropped to a knee and shot it in both shoulders. One round missed and flew off into the air beyond. A puff of brick dust exploded in the background. She fired again, hitting it in the chest.

  Pausing, she aimed at the creature's head.

  She fired.

  As if in slow motion, the skull crumpled inwards, mushy brain and shattered bone fragments billowing from the rear of the rotting cranium. She heard the brain splatter the road beyond and saw the head disappear in a red mist. The creature slumped to the ground.

  Breathing out, Morgan lowered the weapon. Tim started up the Sprinter and drove it level with the other vehicle. Xander clapped, impressed. "Not bad, girl. Not bad at all."

  "I'm not your girl," Morgan spat.

  She turned and fired, aiming at Xander.

  The chamber clanked empty as her aim found the man's chest. Xander flinched, stepping backwards, genuinely shocked. Morgan continued firing, the empty gun clanging on the heavy silence. The smell of gunpowder and soggy rot filled the air.

  Xander laughed. "You ungrateful cunt." He stepped forward, forcing Morgan backwards.

  The headless creature sat up.

  It clutched at Morgan's leg and pulled her to the ground. The woman scrabbled and landed on her back, dropping the gun. Shocked and surprised by the attack, her body was paralysed as the hands of the dead creature slipped beneath her blouse and pierced her soft fleshy naval, delved into her lower abdomen and found her hot intestines. The intestines slopped to the floor, steaming and slippery, no longer held in place by normal human anatomy. Blood erupted from the woman's mouth, splattering her young face.

  Xander flinched and retreated. Goodright leapt from the back of the van and ran towards Morgan. She stopped when she realised it was too late. A wet gurgle signalled the end of Morgan's young life as the woman succumbed. The headless creature rolled on top of her, tearing into her, ripping her small frame apart. She disappeared beneath a pile of creatures, her legs shaking. Goodright stared at the unbelievable sight, frozen on the asphalt, tears streaming down her face.

  Xander grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back to the van. Goodright saw movement down the street, an image blurred by the sogginess of her eyes; a mass of dark figures headed their way. A few shambled out of dark alleyways and hidden side roads, descending on their location. Hundreds, probably thousands.

  She jumped into the van, her eyes flicking back to Morgan. Blood covered every inch of the headless creature, the result of the violent attack. The woman's innards were splayed across the road like some sick modern art; organs and ruptured muscle, broken bones and torn flesh. Xander closed the rear doors, blocking the view. Three taps echoed through the interior and Tim started the vehicle again.

  Harrison looked up. "Where's … where's Morgan?" Melanie looked up for confirmation too, but Goodright said nothing. She shook her head as a tear plinked off her nose and onto her shirt. She blinked, the shock setting in.

  As the vehicle pulled away, grieving silence consumed the group.

  SEVENTEEN

  You have to stifle your tears.

  You don’t know what happened to Morgan.

  She might still be alive.

  But, most of all, you have to remain silent.

  For the best of the group.

  You're their only hope.

  Do as instructed. Like Goodright told you.

  Bruce hugged his knees in the small, secret compartment and rocked with the motion of the van. He heard nothing from the interior itself; no one was speaking, and conversation was light. He'd heard Harrison and Goodright, and Melanie hadn't left the van. However, the silence spoke volumes.

  Morgan was dead.

  Stifle.

  Silent.

  You need to do this.

  Emotions later.

 
Bruce shifted his weight a little, getting comfortable. His hand brushed the Glock that nestled beside him, unloaded. A small black ammunition bag sat next to it. The fresh smell of gunmetal was keeping him sane, providing him with a contented respite.

  This could take a while, but you're their only hope.

  When the time is right, you go to work.

  Bruce smiled.

  He knew what he had to do.

  *****

  Emma swayed from left to right on the roof of the murderer's van. Hidden beneath a loose yellow tarpaulin, she slid with the vehicle’s movements, afraid to resist and make any unusual sound that could betray her presence. She knocked against slabs of wood and brick, her chilled flesh brushing them lightly. The vehicle was in no hurry, and neither was she.

  She owed Harrison.

  She owed him big time.

  And as preposterous as it was, she felt a rescue was the perfect returned favour.

  She knew Harrison was alive. She'd seen him shuffled into the van and heard some kind of attack, and she knew someone had died. The change of tone and sudden movement was proof of that. A rescue seemed impossible considering the odds, but she'd seen the men taken down by Harrison's colleague. The girl was good, really good. With her on board, they stood a chance of escape, stood a chance against their captors. It also gave her the chance to climb the back of their van unseen.

  Now, she just had to bide her time.

  Hidden beneath the tarpaulin, she settled in to wait.

  *****

  The vans steered off the road and pulled into a large warehouse. As the shutter clattered shut, the vehicles eased to a halt, side by side. Twenty men armed with rifles stood to attention, suspicious of the new arrival. Tim climbed from the driver's seat, paused, and smiled. The men relaxed a fraction and circled, forming a small human barricade. Xander and Alice climbed from the second vehicle and ambled over, their postures relaxed.

  Xander turned to his private army. "We have new arrivals. We normally need to deem them suitable or unworthy for our crusade, as per our regulations, but several events have occurred that have proven their worth to me. Does anyone have any problem with this?"

  No one spoke, the silence a united answer.

  Xander smiled. "Good."

  Tim emerged from behind the vehicle and pushed Goodright to the forefront. He lowered Harrison and Melanie to the ground beside her. The army looked on, twenty vacant stares, unbothered.

  "Please introduce yourselves," Xander demanded.

  "Naomi," Goodright uttered, weak and exhausted.

  "Sean," Harrison followed.

  "Melanie," Bartram concluded.

  Xander nodded. "Naomi and Sean are Barrington police officers. Now, whatever qualms you have with this organisation, whatever grievances you had in the past, you should quell them now. You will have no issues with their occupation because, frankly, these guys are trained for combat. They will be valuable assets to our cause. As for Melanie … what do you do, dear?"

  "I'm a doctor, a psychotherapist," she uttered.

  One man piped up, "What's a psychotherapist?"

  Another laughed. "It means she—"

  "It means you leave her alone," Xander interrupted. "You understand? This woman will be of immense use around here, particularly as time wears on. She is under my protection." Xander winked at Melanie, who shivered. "Is that clear?"

  The men nodded, their eyes still gazing at the ground.

  "Now. Where's Peter? He needs to see to these people."

  Peter stepped through the crowd and studied the injuries. Xander stood Goodright up and walked her away from her friends. He leaned in. "Did she really fall off a building?"

  Goodright nodded. "Yes."

  "Harsh."

  "Yes, especially when it was her only viable option."

  "How so?"

  "She was being chased by someone."

  The implications stunned Xander. "My, my. How impressive."

  "We won't follow you, you know?"

  Xander stepped back. "You won't, huh?"

  "We appreciate what you're doing here, but we were alright on our own."

  "I know. The thing is, you no longer get to decide. You're under my command now."

  Goodright ran a hand through her hair. "And what if we say no?"

  Xander smiled wide. "No one says no to me."

  "In case you didn’t notice, we didn’t exactly bow down to you. You kidnapped us by force."

  "Yes, and that's the only chance you'll get. A freebie. No one says no to me, not anymore. I have power and wealth, and I have a means to keep you alive. Any future disagreements, and you'll pay for it with your lives."

  "You said yourself we're too valuable."

  "Yes, but expendable. You're valuable, but the crusade is king. Any jeopardy to that and you're done. I can keep you alive until that moment."

  "I can do that alone … we can do that on our own. We don’t need your help."

  Xander sighed. He walked over to a sofa and beckoned Goodright to sit. Hesitant, she wandered over and lowered her rump onto it. The cushion wheezed beneath her lithe frame. Xander leaned against the wall. "You could stay alive on your own. Past tense. Things have changed. If you think we're letting you go, you have another thing coming."

  Goodright breathed out. "So, what if I say no? You going to shoot me?"

  Xander sighed. "Look. I like you, you're smart and a decent shot. You seem to know what makes sense, which is why I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Do you want to meet the last person who said no to me, the last person who outright defied me?"

  Goodright bit her lip. "Sure."

  "You can't, because I put her in the ground."

  Goodright shook her head. "You're not scaring me."

  "You work for the police. Does the name Felicity Nichol ring a bell?"

  The name slammed into Goodright's skull with the force of a jackhammer. She staggered backwards, slumping back onto the sofa. She felt her legs go weak, and her arms turn numb.

  Xander smiled. "I guess you do remember her. We were dating … I know, she's only a kid … was only a kid, and it's against the law, but hey, there is no law now, right? I own the law, so why not come clean."

  Goodright groaned. "You killed Felicity Nichol?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "She said no to me."

  Goodright swallowed, not wanting to know the answer.

  She asked anyway. "When … when did she say no?"

  Xander sneered, ignoring the question. "The little bitch promised me, but she backed down at the last minute. She said no, to my face, while she was sitting on my lap with my fly undone. I tried my best to convince her, but she said no, defiant, even slapped my hands away when I touched her. I spent good money on her as well. She refused, said her loyal father taught her the ways of life. She wanted to wait. So, I hit her and fucked her anyway. Afterwards, following the screaming and fighting, I broke her neck, to show her who was boss. Was it harsh? Maybe. She deserved to live, but in the moment, I didn’t think about that. Shame, really. She was a stubborn bitch, but she was still beautiful."

  Goodright sagged. "You … you killed her. We suspected one of her schoolmates."

  "Please. That bitch was all high and mighty; she dated men, not boys. She wouldn’t be seen dead with any of her classmates, not romantically."

  "I was there, when this … this thing happened. I saw her rise from the dead and attack my colleagues. You put her there. This … these creatures … it all happened because of you."

  Xander looked at Goodright. A genuine smile of surprise appeared on his face. "Really?"

  Goodright rubbed her neck. "You're proud of this?"

  "The end of the world started because of me. I think so. Now my crusade has resonance."

  "You're sick," Goodright uttered.

  "No. I'm the saviour. I'm stronger than Jesus; and I have more power than God."

  "Oh dear Lord," Goodright answered.

  Xan
der nodded. "Wait here a moment. Enjoy the surroundings. We'll sort you out some quarters shortly. With this revelation, you certainly earned it."

  He turned and walked back to his men. Peter was seeing to Harrison, who was now unconscious on a gurney. He began wheeling him away. Xander nodded. "Restrain him. Just in case." Peter nodded and disappeared behind a large white screen.

  He turned to face the crowd. "I have some good news. It seems that whatever is happening out there … beyond these walls, in Barrington, was started by none other than yours truly. I have it on good authority that I am to blame for this outbreak, for those creatures that are tearing our lives apart.”

  Murmurs rose up between the people. Goodright sat forward and looked on, tense and alert. She noticed a slight discord rippling through the small crowd, a slight inconvenience on the faces of the people before her. She expected it.

  Why are we here?

  We should be home with our families, living a free life.

  You put us here.

  This is your fault.

  It didn’t happen.

  Instead, they lowered their gazes and resumed their original position. They fell into line.

  Xander continued, "Am I proud? Yes, because society was long overdue for the deep cleanse, and because of me, only the elite—only you people, under my strict guidance and protection—will survive. The cleanse is happening. We will carry humanity into the next era; and we will reset the world, as we know it."

  Silence from the room. Goodright looked on, amazed by the people's low-key reaction. She expected madness and anger, a bout of hatred and an uprising. She got nothing.

  Xander stared at his men. "We are our own kings, the only survivors. Barrington is ours; let's keep it that way. As you were."

  The men filtered away, murmurs shattering the heavy silence. Xander walked over, a huge smile on his face.

  Goodright chuckled. "They aren't supportive, are they?"