The Alpha Plague

by Michael Robertson

“How much longer until Draw Bridge Station, Rhys?”

  Too long. “I don’t know,” he said. Why had he taken them down there?

  Clumsy because of their inability to see, both Rhys and Vicky kicked stones away from them every few steps. So strung out, Rhys jumped every single time it happened.

  “I don’t know if it’s better having walls on either side or worse,” Vicky said. “I mean, we can see there’s nothing hiding around us, but we’ve got nowhere to run to.”

  “We’ll be fine. Just keep going.” The warble in Rhys’ voice did little to back up his assertion. Good job she couldn’t hear his rapid heartbeat too.

  The pair picked the pace up another notch as they grew more comfortable on the uneven ground. Then Rhys snagged his foot.

  Everything moved in slow motion as he fell forward. Halfway down, he let go of his bat and it clattered against the floor with several loud pings. The sharp stones crunched as they cut into his knees and hands. Despite the burn, he held his breath and listened. If there were more diseased, they now knew Rhys and Vicky were there.

  About a minute of silence passed before Rhys got to his feet again. Vicky stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen to the spot. “Come on,” he said, “let’s keep moving.”

  Sweat stung the cuts on Rhys’ palms as he held the bat. His bruised kneecaps forced him to walk with a slight limp, but he pushed on. When they rounded the next corner, they both stopped again.

  They could see the end of the tunnel.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After he’d jumped up onto the platform, Rhys reached down to Vicky. He took her soft hand and pulled her up. He held on for a second longer than he had to.

  When he’d finally let go of her, Rhys dusted himself down and looked around. “There’s a lot more nooks and crannies here than at Central Station. More places to hide.” His voice, although soft, carried along the quiet platform.

  He listened to Vicky’s quick breaths as she looked around too. She finally said, “I don’t like it, Rhys. I don’t like it one little bit.”

  “Me neither.”

  As in the tunnel, Rhys gripped his bat and walked down the platform with Vicky by his side. Pain ran through his kneecaps like hot irons had been wedged into them. Other than an involuntary grimace, he didn’t let it get the better of him.

  Pillars, each one about a metre thick, ran the length of Draw Bridge Station. They ran from floor to ceiling, and no matter how Rhys craned his neck, he couldn’t see the entire platform all at once at any one time.

  “Anything could be hiding down here,” Vicky said.

  Rhys took a deep breath to keep his voice even and try to settle the Snickers, which churned in his knotted stomach. “We just need to keep going. We’ll hear them before they get to us.” He then added, “I hope.”

  Vicky released a strained sigh.

  With some of the lights out on the platform, the shadows became too dark to see into. Anything could be hiding in them and waiting to jump out. Rhys had already told Vicky that wouldn’t happen, and it wouldn’t—the diseased were full tilt; they didn’t do stealth. But it didn’t stop him squinting to see into the shadows. His eyes stung as he searched the darkness.

  To exit the platform, they had to climb an enclosed spiral staircase. Brown tiled walls and terracotta steps didn’t help when coupled with the poor light.

  Halfway up the staircase, a bright bulb flickered. The pair stopped as one.

  The light buzzed while it strobed. Rhys listened out for the call of the diseased.

  Nothing.

  When he put a hand on Vicky’s shoulder, she jumped. He waited for her to face him. “Are you ready to move again?”

  At first, she didn’t reply, but then she nodded. They resumed their ascent and the sound of their footsteps raced up the stairs ahead of them.

  “They’re going to hear us, Rhys.”

  “We have to keep going,” Rhys said. “If they hear us, we fight.”

  Although Rhys kept his attention in front of him, he saw Vicky wring her grip on her baseball bat in his peripheral vision. “I’m ready if they come,” she said.

  The stairs came out into an open area, similar to the one in Central Station but much smaller. It seemed clear.

  Like Central Station, this place had escalators that ran in and out of the main entrance. Like Central Station, they’d stopped working.

  The clang of their feet on the metal stairs called out, and Rhys resisted the urge to run. To arrive at the drawbridge knackered wouldn’t serve anybody.

  ***

  When Rhys stepped out of Draw Bridge Station, the sun blinded him. He dug his fists into his eyes and his heart raced. Those things could be surrounding them, for all he knew. Baseball bat or not, he’d have to swing blind.

  Although the tunnel had felt stuffy and oppressive, being outside again made the thick summer heat push against Rhys’ skin like a heavy blanket in a sauna. Sweat rose on his brow and ran into his eyes.

  It seemed to take a lifetime to get his sight back, and he’d rubbed his eyes so hard they hurt. When he could finally see again, he scanned around. A wide road ran alongside Draw Bridge Station. Rhys had a clear line of sight both up and down it that allowed him to see there were no diseased.

  The alleyway to the drawbridge was on the other side of the road, sandwiched between two towers. Rhys couldn’t remember the numbers for the buildings, but what did it matter? They all looked the same. When he looked at Vicky, he smiled. “See, I told you going through the tunnel was a good plan.”

  Darkness sat in Vicky’s azure eyes and thick bags rested beneath them. She acknowledged his comment with a nod. “It worked. That’s all I’m giving you.” A half smile lifted the side of her mouth. “If I’d have known what we were to go through down there, I think I would have joined the school trip to The Alpha Tower.”

  Rhys winced.

  “Too soon for those jokes?”

  Rhys nodded.

  “My point still stands. You have a cute kid, but don’t ever ask me to do that again for him, because I will say no.”

  Rhys reached across and squeezed her forearm. “Thank you.”

  Although Vicky didn’t reply, some of the darkness left her eyes.

  “I didn’t notice any infected rats down there, did you?” Rhys said.

  “Ew! Why would you even put that thought in my head?”

  “What I mean is I think the virus only affects human beings.”

  Vicky hugged herself as if for warmth. “Let’s hope so; I fucking hate the idea of a mass of infected rodents… of any creature, for that matter.”

  Rhys nodded across the road to the alley that led to the drawbridge. “You ready to go?”

  After another look around, Vicky said, “Yep, let’s do it.”

  ***

  They got to the end of the alley and Rhys stopped. Intuition, fear, or some other deep instinct told him to halt. He raised a palm at Vicky for her to stay where she was and peered out at the drawbridge. His stomach sank to his bollocks. “Oh fuck!”

  It was a struggle to hold onto his rapid breaths, let alone explain to Vicky what he’d just seen, so Rhys pulled back into the alleyway and let Vicky look past him.

  The colour drained from her beautiful face and she quickly pulled herself back in again. She ran her hand over the top of her head to pull her hair away from her eyes and said, “Shit!”

  When the initial spike of panic settled, Rhys looked out again. About twenty metres of road separated them and the entrance to the drawbridge—a short run at best, but they wouldn’t be able to do much when they got there. Blue flashing lights pulsed on the other side of the river behind a temporarily erected police blockade. At least ten feet tall and as wide as the bridge, it was made from toughened plastic. It had been erected to stop anything getting out of the city, including Vicky and Rhys. It currently had a herd of diseased pressed up against it. They could evidently smell prey but had no idea of how to get to them.

  Rhys jum
ped when Vicky spoke. “How the fuck are we to get through that lot?”

  Gargles, groans, and the occasional frustrated yell filled the air. “Why have we got this stupid fucking arms embargo?” Rhys said. “All countries gave up their weapons! For what? It doesn’t make any fucking sense! How could a handgun in England harm someone in China? If the police had guns, we’d be home free by now.”

  Rhys turned to Vicky and his voice wavered when he said, “How the fuck are we going to get across, Vick? How the fuck am I going to get to my boy?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Inaction gripped Rhys’ muscles as he stood at the mouth of the alleyway. If he stepped out, the diseased would see him and tear him apart in seconds. “Fuck it,” he said again.

  “Fuck it ain’t going to give us a solution, honey.”

  “How can we have come so far to get screwed at the last minute? ‘Fuck it’ is all I have.”

  “It still won’t fix anything.”

  Heat rushed beneath Rhys’ skin, and he balled his fists. “So what do you have to offer? Maybe if you stopped criticising me and came up with something useful… If it was your son…” his words trailed off when he looked at her, her eyes wide, her head pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s not your fault. You’re right; ‘fuck it’ isn’t an answer to anything. So how are we going to get across that bridge? There are hundreds of them.” Rhys watched the steady stream of diseased that joined the already dense crowd. “How much longer will that police blockade last before they get through?”

  Vicky placed her baseball bat against the wall and looked back at Rhys. A sense of calm rested in her eyes that he hadn’t seen from her before. Her usual hostility had abated. “The opportunity is going to come. It’s important that you make the most of it when it does, and think only of your boy, yeah?”

  “What are you—?”

  “Just think about Flynn, okay?”

  Rhys nodded, and before he could say anything else to her, Vicky sprinted out from the alleyway.

  Chapter Thirty

  Rhys shook his head as he watched Vicky run away from him. She’d abandoned him. A few words of encouragement, and then so long, partner, it’s been emotional, but fuck you and fuck your helpless fucking son. What a bitch!

  With her name on his tongue, it took everything Rhys had not to call after her. It wouldn’t do any good. The diseased didn’t understand words; they just understood noise and honed in on it. He wouldn’t last two seconds if he shouted his mouth off.

  Vicky moved fast. Suddenly Rhys saw just how much he’d slowed her down. No wonder she’d chosen to leave. She had to be alone to survive, but it made no sense to run back into the city.

  Then she screamed. “Oi, fuckos, I’m over here. Fresh meat if you want it, fuck nuts.”

  Rhys’ chin damn near hit the ground and he shook his head again. She couldn’t outrun them. Not that many. No fucking way.

  The diseased didn’t react at first. Instead, they continued to push against the temporary barrier, but then she called out again and Rhys saw one of them at the back turn around to look at her. As dense as the rest, it had a deep wound that ran down the side of its face and blood streaked its cheeks. Then something akin to clarity spread across its features.

  When it screamed, its entire upper body bounced up and down. It looked like it used its own body weight to pump the deep cry from its lungs. The pack responded. It started with those close to it but soon spread through the entire mob.

  The assault on the police barricade stopped, and as one, the diseased took off after her.

  Despite the distance and chaotic mob between them, Rhys still heard her clearly. “That’s it, you stupid bastards. Come on, follow me.”

  As the diseased left the bridge, Rhys’ heart galloped to the point where he struggled to breathe. She’d given him the opportunity to escape and rescue Flynn. The burn of tears itched his eyeballs. She should have told him before she did it. He wouldn’t have let her go; she knew that as much as he did.

  Rhys picked up Vicky’s bat, rubbed his eyes, cleared the lump from his throat, and headed over to the now empty bridge.

  When he got close, the sickly sweet funk of death floated in the air. The sheer density of the crowd had turned the atmosphere sour, even after they’d gone.

  But before he stepped onto the bridge, Rhys watched Vicky, the thunderous call of hundreds of clumsy feet on her trail. He had a clear view of her from his elevated position. She ran straight for a small florist’s shop. Of course… her card.

  A loud crash sounded as Vicky collided with the shutter at the front of the shop. Even from this distance, Rhys saw the flash of her white card as she swiped it through the florist’s reader. The metal shutter lifted—slowly; too fucking slowly.

  While he chewed on his bottom lip, Rhys watched the shutter and then the gap between Vicky and the diseased. They were gaining on her. She didn’t have the time to wait for it, but she waited anyway. She divided her attention between the mob behind, and the barrier as it slowly rose.

  As the diseased got closer, each one loosed its own scream at the sky.

  Vicky paced up and down and kept her eyes on the diseased. Surely she would run. It was the worst game of chicken ever. Rhys would have shit himself by now and bottled it. Not that Rhys would have put himself in that situation in the first place. She was a hero. She’d sacrificed herself for a photo and a sob story.

  The shutter continued to rise, and Vicky held her ground.

  When the gap grew large enough, Vicky dropped to her front and dragged herself under. Her entire upper body disappeared, but her legs still hung out when the first creature hit the shutter with a loud crash.

  Several more clattered into it. One of the leaders grabbed at Vicky’s foot, but she kicked out and managed to pull herself under and out of sight.

  Then the shutter stopped.

  It dropped again.

  She must have swiped the reader inside.

  Some of the diseased dropped to the ground and tried to follow Vicky under.

  Because the gap tightened, only a few of them actually attempted it. The rest bashed against the metal.

  A couple of diseased made it into the shop. It could have been worse, but that didn’t untie the knots of anxiety in Rhys’ stomach. It would only take one to kill her. The weight of Vicky’s baseball bat sat in Rhys’ grip; he hoped she’d find something in the shop to use against them.

  The third diseased that tried to get through had been pinned to the ground by the barrier as it closed. It screamed as it pressed down on its back. The diseased equivalent of a bleating lamb; panic and fury combined in its shrill and repetitive caw. It seemed to disturb the other diseased so much they backed away. It afforded Rhys the clearest view of the thing.

  When the shutter pushed into the diseased’s clothes at the base of its spine, it cried louder than before and kicked its legs. The upper half of its body had made it into the shop.

  A deep crack, and its legs fell limp, but the thing still screamed.

  Then it stopped. Vicky must have killed it.

  One of the creatures at the front of the pack yelled. The fury spread through the mob again and they rushed forward as one.

  A loud crash sounded out as they bashed against the steel shutter again and again.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The bright sun stung Rhys’ eyes as he stood by the bridge and watched the shopfront get battered. A pain tore through his chest. There had to be a way to get Vicky out of there, but how?

  “If you want to come, now’s the time.”

  Rhys turned to see an officer at the end of the bridge. He’d opened a gap in the barricade and motioned for Rhys to come through.

  Red-faced as he scanned around wildly, his hand gestures grew more animated. “Are you deaf or something? If you want to get out of this place, now’s the time.”

  The crowd of diseased outside the florist had thickened to the point where Rhys couldn’t see the shutter an
ymore. The mass of crazed and frantic lunatics made it look like hell had opened up into Summit City, and Vicky was at the centre of it.

  When Rhys looked back, the officer had halved the distance between them. An older man with white hair, he looked like he’d waited patiently for retirement. A couple of years left in the job and then he could get away and start to live his life. Softness radiated from him that Rhys rarely saw in younger officers. The need to nick people had clearly been well and truly played out for him.

  “Come on, lad,” he said. “Come over the bridge with me, and make that girl’s life mean something.”

  She didn’t have to lose her life so he could rescue his son; there had to be a way for both of them to come through this.

  When the police officer touched Rhys on the shoulder, Rhys jumped away.

  “Steady on, son.” The officer spoke as if he was talking to a jittery horse. He tugged on Rhys’ arm. “We’re raising this drawbridge. If you don’t come with us now, we’re going to have to leave you.”

  Several officers watched the interaction from the other side of the barricade. Rhys turned back to the florist’s and his heart lifted when he saw Vicky on the roof.

  When she waved her arms, he smiled. “She’s alive.”

  “That’s all well and good,” the cop said, “but those monsters are persistent fuckers, and they ain’t going anywhere until they get to her.”

  Then, over the groans and wails, Rhys heard her faint voice. “Go and get Flynn; I’ll be fine.”

  Rhys looked at Vicky for a few seconds longer before he turned to the officer. “Can you do one thing for me?”

  The officer’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Do you know St. Michael’s Primary School?”

  “Yes,” the officer said.

  “Can you go and check that it’s okay? My boy’s there.”