A second later the diseased’s footsteps rushed across the tenth floor. In a blink, they’d appeared at the top of the stairwell and stared down at Vicky and Hugh a few floors below them.
When Vicky saw Hugh stop to look up, she fought for breath and called down to him, “Run, you fool. Get to the ground floor, now.”
With no need for stealth, Vicky watched Hugh leap the last four or five stairs of each flight to speed up his descent. She did the same, each landing slapping the dead fox against her thigh and running a hard jolt through her already sore knees.
It seemed to give them the edge, and once they’d gone down several floors, they seemed to have opened up a lead on the diseased.
Vicky’s lungs felt ready to burst, her face burned with sweat, and her head spun, but she pushed on after Hugh.
On the ground floor, Hugh shoulder barged his way through the double doors and held one of them open for Vicky to follow him. Vicky tore through with the sound of the diseased coming after them. She saw the fear in Hugh’s wide eyes. If this guy had had military training, he’d forgotten it all. Either that, or he’d never seen a battle in his life.
Before she tore out of the ground-floor office, Vicky stopped and Hugh pulled up in front of her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Without a word, Vicky moved over to Hugh and took the axe that he had strapped to him. Like she’d done on the top floor, she used the weapon to wedge through the handles of the double doors. “That should hold them for a while,” she said as she ran back past Hugh and out of the office.
At the end of the ground floor, Vicky hurdled through the empty window space, the crunch of glass popping beneath her feet.
Hugh followed her out onto the cracked asphalt of the broken main road and they ran from the town at a sprint. It took for Vicky to step out into the strong wind to realise just how stagnant with rot the air in the office had been.
Now they’d gotten a slight lead on the diseased, Vicky noticed the dead fox more as it slapped against her thigh. She laughed. “All that for a bloody fox.”
Hugh didn’t reply.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Back outside the large town, Vicky and Hugh had slowed down to a walk as they waded through the high grass. With her arms out to the sides and her palms raised to the sun, Vicky drew the deep breaths that she associated with freedom. To fill her lungs with fresh air reminded her that she’d avoided another near miss and remained disease-free.
The grass around them swayed and bowed and her hair danced in the wind. As much as she loved the security of Home, it came with challenges such as recycled air and no windows.
Worry lines creased Hugh’s face from clearly still feeling the stress of their encounter in the derelict office block. Ten minutes had passed and Vicky’s pulse had only just settled down too. He looked across at Vicky and dropped his head with a sigh. “Have you heard of PTSD?”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder, of course I have.”
“I suffer with it. Sometimes I wake up in the night in a cold sweat as I remember what I went through during my service.”
He hadn’t seemed like a military man. In the way he moved and in how he spoke, almost with a glorification of what he’d done. The few military people Vicky had known in her life played down their tours, but Hugh seemed to revel in them. But what did Vicky know? She’d not met enough military people to gauge it. Besides, he had nothing to gain from lying. “So what exactly did you do in Mogadishu? Door-kicking makes it sound like you were some kind of unorthodox bailiff.”
The same haunted look that had glazed Hugh’s eyes when he’d frozen in the office block returned to his distant stare. A slight tremble ran through his voice. “I can’t talk about it. It’s classified.”
“Classified in a world that no longer exists?”
As he snapped his head across to look at her, Hugh raised his voice. “I took an oath. I don’t expect you to understand what it means to take it, but I do expect you to respect me when I say I can’t talk about it. At some point, the military may come back. When they do, I want to be able to return to them with a clear conscience.”
The less Vicky asked, the easier she found it to believe Hugh. It made life a lot simpler if she didn’t doubt him. With that in mind, she shrugged at the man. “I don’t know much about PTSD. All I know is that when I’m in a tight situation like we were today, I need to know the person with me has my back.”
Although Hugh looked like he wanted to shout, he ground his jaw and said nothing.
With the tension wound tight between them, Vicky heard something in the distance. The wind battered her and made it hard to hear. However, when Vicky looked back toward the ruined town, she didn’t need to rely on her hearing. “Fuck!”
Hugh looked behind too at the swarm of diseased that ran through the field. At least twenty strong, they had Vicky and Hugh in their sights.
“Come on,” Vicky said as she broke into a run. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
***
The repeated slapping of the fox against Vicky’s thigh had started to bruise her. The run made it sting more than ever, but she didn’t have a better place for it at that moment.
At the wide river, Vicky fished the rope swing from where they’d left it. She held it out for Hugh, who batted the offer away as he gasped for breath. “You go first and I’ll follow.”
They didn’t have time to argue, so Vicky did as Hugh instructed and swung across the river.
Hardly graceful, when Vicky landed on the bank on the other side, the earth soggy as it gripped onto her feet, she fell forward onto her knees. The wet mud soaked through her trousers and felt cold against her skin. It coated her hands, the thick sludge of it between her fingers. As she got to her feet and wiped herself down, Vicky suddenly saw what she’d done and her heart sank.
On the other side of the river, Hugh stared fury at her as the rope swing hung limp between them.
The call of the diseased grew louder behind Hugh, who turned around to look over his shoulder.
As she looked from the swing to Hugh and back to the swing again, Vicky shook her head. She couldn’t get it back to him. She had no fucking chance. Then she saw the diseased break through the long grass just a few metres from Hugh.
After one final look over his shoulder, Hugh leapt out into the muddy water of the river.
Several diseased followed him in, throwing themselves from the high riverbank on top of him as he swam across. Where Hugh had been visible in the water, he suddenly went under, dragged down by the swarm of drowning diseased.
The loud splashing around Hugh and the agitated roars from the diseased on the other side of the river swirled in the panic in Vicky’s mind. Her heart thudded in her throat and her head spun. She’d killed him.
A loud gasp burst through her panic and Hugh broke the surface of the dark water. He fought to remain afloat as he flapped and splashed. He looked at Vicky.
Before Vicky could react, Hugh disappeared beneath the surface again. It looked like he’d been dragged back under.
Vicky remained perfectly still and frowned so hard it darkened her view of the world in front of her. The water—churned up and muddy from the struggle—rushed with the flow of the river, but Hugh didn’t reappear.
A full minute passed and Vicky’s throbbing pulse rocked her where she stood. The water turned an even darker shade of brown while Hugh remained beneath the surface. At what point would she walk away like she’d done with Flynn?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The muddy water cleared and the diseased on the riverbank stared across at Vicky, snarling and hissing, but more muted in their aggression toward her than they had been. They seemed to accept they couldn’t get to her. Agitation shimmered through their ranks as they rocked from side to side and bit at the air like they could taste her, but even that they did with less enthusiasm than a few minutes ago.
As Vicky watched the spot of water where Hugh had vanished, her eyes stung from n
ot having blinked. With her heart in her throat, she waited. Although what she waited for … Surely Hugh would have come up by now.
The sound of the diseased died down and the noise of the wind picked up as if to highlight Vicky’s solitude. Before long, she’d have to make the choice to return to Home alone.
The sting in her eyes turned into an itch of tears and her bottom lip bent out of shape with her grief. Hugh might have had his failings—an ego that drove him to work out like he did and to lie to Vicky about his service—but he didn’t seem like a bad guy. Just a bit naïve in his outlook on life. But …
Before Vicky could finish her thought, a loud splash broke the surface of the water and she stumbled backwards. The mud grabbed her feet and she fell. Although the wet ground provided a softer landing, it still jolted from Vicky’s coccyx all the way up her spine. Not that she had time to worry about her pain. Instead, she scrambled backwards, her feet slipping in the mud as she fought to get away from the diseased that had made it across to the other side.
With her attention on the river, she saw the monster’s head break through the surface of the water. Then she stopped. “Hugh?”
Coughing and spluttering, Hugh emerged from the river, heaving for breaths as he climbed up the bank toward Vicky. At first he said nothing, the effort of his escape clearly too much for him, but once he’d stepped completely free from the water, he smiled. “I hope you hadn’t given up on me?”
With a shake of her head, Vicky jumped to her feet, ran over to the man and wrapped him in a tight hug. He stank of river water and squelched in her tight embrace. But Vicky had lived in this world long enough to keep a hold of her wits. She released him and stepped back a pace. “Have you been bitten?”
“Huh?”
With a pointed finger thrust at the water, she said, “I saw several diseased drag you beneath the surface. It’s a reasonable question. Have you been bitten?”
Hugh laughed and shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”
But Vicky needed more than that. “Show me.”
At first, Hugh didn’t respond; he simply stared at her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Vicky. Why would I lie?”
“For the same reason that everyone lies. No one wants to believe they’ll turn.” She loaded her catapult with a marble, pulled it back, and aimed it straight at Hugh’s face. “I don’t want to do this, but I need to make sure you’ve not been bitten. I’m not risking the safety of Home by taking someone back who could change into one of them. I’m not suggesting you need two days’ quarantine, just that I need to see you’re okay.”
A wry smile played with Hugh’s lips as he lifted his top to reveal his washboard stomach. “Okay, I’ll play along.”
Once he’d taken his top off, he stood on the riverbank with his wide shoulders and pecs on display and continued to grin at Vicky. With her jaw clenched tight, she kept the catapult aimed at him.
“Oh, like that, is it?” Hugh undid his belt and fought against the wet fabric of his trousers as he forced them down to his ankles. He then turned on the spot. Like his upper body, his legs had the definition of someone who worked out a lot. He sure had the shape of someone who’d been in the military, even if he didn’t have the story or mentality to back it up.
“Do I have to take my shoes off, or do you trust they couldn’t bite through these boots?”
Before Vicky could respond, Hugh grabbed the waistband of his boxer shorts. “Hang on, you need the money shot, don’t you?”
Vicky finally lowered her catapult and raised a halting hand at him. If he had a bite, she would have seen it by now or at least the blood from the open wound. “It’s fine, just show me your ankles and then we’re done.”
“That’s a shame,” Hugh said as he pulled his trousers up again and did the belt up. After he’d lifted his trouser legs and rolled his socks down, he said, “Happy?”
A nod and Vicky turned her back on him. “Fine, let’s go.”
“You know what?” Hugh called after her as she walked off. “I’m impressed at your vigilance. You really do value Home. We’ll make a guard of you yet. And maybe when we get back, you can inspect me for bites again.”
Without turning around, Vicky threw Hugh the bird and kept walking.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The pair had walked in silence for five to ten minutes before Hugh said, “Are you sure you don’t want to check me again for bites when we get back to Home? Just to make sure.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Vicky watched Hugh visibly prick up at her response. “Although, I think I may get Piotr to perform a thorough inspection while wearing a pair of his gardening gloves.”
When Hugh screwed his nose up, Vicky couldn’t help but laugh at him. With the dead fox still strapped to her, the creature slapping against her leg with every step she took, Vicky looked at the darkening sky. “Good job we got out of that town when we did. I hate travelling anywhere at night.”
The grass swished as Hugh walked through it and looked up at the sky. “I’ve never had to. Although, it’s not something I’m keen on doing either.”
“How far from Home have you been?”
“A few hours’ travel, no more.”
“Have you been to the mall?”
“No, but I’ve heard of it.”
“Flynn and I spent a night there.”
Hugh stopped and looked at Vicky. “And you came away with all your limbs?”
Vicky stopped too. “So you know what they do there?”
“Of course.”
“And you do nothing about it?”
Tension gripped Hugh’s face. “What would you have me do? We have a community full of freeloaders that slip a disc every time they tie their shoelaces. Home’s strength is also its greatest weakness. Such a solid fort, it’s made everyone weak and unable to fight.”
“But …” The words left Vicky. But what? What could they do about it?
Vicky made a quick search for diseased before she nodded toward Home. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back.”
Within a couple of steps, Hugh had caught up with Vicky. “I didn’t say I don’t care about what goes on in the mall. I do—I absolutely do. It’s not natural—but they have their town that they raid and we have ours. If I upset them, we stand to lose much more than they do. They’ll tear straight through us.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point. Atrocious things have happened and continue to happen. I don’t like it, and I’m sure you don’t either, but I’m not sure I agree about not taking action. At any moment, that band of cannibals could decide to turn on Home and you’d be easy pickings for them. I always think you should strike first.”
“Right,” Hugh said, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with Vicky’s fast march. “Maybe you can help us form a plan that sees us taking the fight to them.”
“I would, but you don’t need to worry about them anymore. It’s the principle I’m pissed off about.”
“You’ve taken them down?”
“The disease got them,” Vicky said. She then focused in front of her as they rounded the next bend and Home came into view.
“How did you manage it?”
Vicky said nothing. She didn’t need to relive what she and Flynn had gone through in the mall.
“I think you have a point though, Vicky. Any enemy that threatens our way of being needs to be met head-on. Phase three, right? Phase one, get them fit; phase two, get them used to being outside of Home; phase three, protect ourselves.”
Only about ten metres from the front door of Home and two loud cracks snapped through the relative quiet. Vicky then heard the hinges on the large reinforced door groan.
Despite the bruise on her thigh, Vicky had kept the fox strapped to her and she picked her pace up to a jog to get back through the open door.
Only now, as she viewed herself through the wide eyes of the two teenagers who’d let them back into Home, did Vicky realise just how different she looked compared to when she’d le
ft earlier that day. Dirty, sweaty, minus a crossbow, and with a dead fox strapped to her. And Hugh, still soaked from his swim, his boots covered in mud, and his features slack with fatigue. If the way she felt was anything to go by, Vicky no doubt looked just as burned out.
When they entered the foyer, the air already staler than that outside, the teenagers locked the door behind them and slipped the bolts back across. Without looking at them, Vicky undid the fox she had strapped to her and passed it to Hugh. She then removed the crossbow harness with the baseball bat still wedged through it then pulled out her catapult and bag of marbles. She handed the lot to Hugh and rolled her shoulders, glad to be free of the extra weight.
Swamped with all of her kit, Hugh raised an eyebrow at Vicky.
“I assume you can drop these off on your way back to your room?”
Before Hugh could answer, Vicky smiled, said, “Thanks,” and walked off.
Chapter Thirty
The second Vicky entered the room, Flynn said, “So more people are using the gym now.” He clasped his hands together in front of his chest. “I feel so fulfilled.”
At first, Vicky didn’t respond to his facetiousness. Tired from her day, but grateful for the freshly washed grey tracksuit that had been left for her, Vicky lay back, sank into the groaning springs of her bed, and looked straight up at the ceiling. “That’s nice.”
“I’ve been stamping pieces of paper all day.”
If the boy wanted a fight, he should just fucking start one. “Good, so we’ve found a good use for you, then?”
Silence.
Something about Flynn’s teenage petulance pushed Vicky’s buttons and she couldn’t help but goad him. “Hugh will be pleased with all the good work you’ve been doing. He might even get you a more comfortable chair or maybe a stamp with a bigger smile on it.”
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