Mortal Skies Omnibus

by Rebecca Fernfield

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A bird chatters in the nearby hedgerow oblivious to the pain ripping through Nate. He stares at the car but doesn’t see it. Behind him a voice calls his name, but the noise doesn’t penetrate his stupor. The parasite is inside his son. Living within his body. Eating his life force. Nate wants to grab it and rip it from Josh, but knows that would be pointless; even if he had the guts to get hold of it, the microscopic bug, or whatever it is, would slip through his hands.

  “Nate.” Ellie’s hand rests on his shoulder. “Nate.”

  He comes back to awareness. “Sorry. I’m just ... at a loss ... I don’t know what to do.”

  Ellie peers into the car and takes a step back. “The fog has gone. Do you think it went back ... inside him?”

  “I watched it,” Todd says. “It went up to the ceiling then kind of got sucked back down.”

  “Josh didn’t suck it,” Mimi counters. “It went back into his mouth on its own.”

  “Let’s get the helmet back on.” Ellie says with authority. “Yes, that’s what we should do. Trap it back in there.”

  Nate snaps. “That’s my son! I don’t want ‘it’ trapping ‘back in there’.”

  “Hey, calm it, Nate.” Ellie counters. “We need to keep the fog contained. We’ve all got to get back in that car and get somewhere safe.”

  Safe! Where the hell is safe when they are carting a deadly parasite around with them? They are the ones who are unsafe. He grunts, knowing she’s right, reaches in and quickly slips the helmet back over Josh’s head. He pulls back with relief but snaps again at Ellie. “Satisfied!”

  “Yes,” she replies with irritation, then he feels her soften. The hand presses on his shoulder again. “We’ll head north, to the higher ground like you said, perhaps on the way we can think of how to get it out of Josh?”

  He relaxes a fraction. “I’m sorry for snapping, Ellie, and yes, figuring out how to help Josh would be ... good.”

  “I understand. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “It’s not easy for any of us. I’ll try to be ... nicer from now on.”

  “It’s OK. I’ve got a thick skin.”

  The children are ushered into the car with Nate relieved they’re being mature enough to sit next to Josh without a fuss although both keep checking to see if the ‘fog’ has reappeared. The narrow country road opens up to a junction and Nate takes the road that will lead them to the north. As they drive closer to a larger town the road ahead is blocked. Traffic stretches for as far as Nate can see, and from their position at the top of a hill, far is a long, long way. More worrying is the sight of a three-lane motorway several miles in the distance which has also come to a standstill. A car pulls up behind them, blocking them into the traffic jam. Nate turns the car around and pulls onto the verge at the road’s highest point several hundred feet down the road. From his vantage point, he surveys the surrounding area: cars, lorries, caravans, and buses are all blocking the lanes.

  Ellie jumps onto the roof of the car. “We’re stuck!”

  Nate joins her on the roof. The metal buckles and the children squeal as he looks out across the land. “Not yet. Look out across there.” He points to the left. “Do you see those buildings?”

  “Yep.”

  “Those are the motorway services. And if you look behind, there’s a narrow road. It looks like it runs into the village just behind. It might be clear.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That we go to the services.”

  “And get on the motorway from there?”

  “No. It’s blocked, but the services might have a motel we can stay in. We need somewhere to rest and figure out how to help Josh.”

  Twenty minutes later they enter the back road into the village. It takes another three before they make it down the narrow lane to the back entrance of the motorway services. The car park is relatively full, but they find a secluded bay beneath an overhanging tree.

  Nate turns off the engine and sits with his fingers on the keys thinking things through; if they carried Josh into the motel in his Hazmat suit it would draw too much attention, but they can’t leave him alone in the car.

  “We can’t leave Josh here,” Ellie says, echoing Nate’s thoughts.

  “We’ll take him in through the back once we’ve got our rooms booked.”

  “We can try,” Ellie replies though she sounds sceptical. “Perhaps we can just say he’s sick and take him through the front?”

  “It’s too risky. We have no idea what their reaction will be. If they think he’s infected they may call the police.”

  “Or try and shoot us,” Todd pipes up. “Like Tabitha wanted to.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they won’t,” Ellie says quickly.

  Nate’s not so sure. The cars blocking the roads and motorways are evidence of mass panic, people trying to get as far away from the cities and infected areas as they can, or perhaps it is part of a government sanctioned evacuation. He hasn’t listened in to the radio for any updates; his head being too full of Josh and the horrific ‘infection’ that is killing him.

  Minutes later, with Josh still in the car, they enter the motel. Its brass-framed double doors open out into a crowded area of potted palms and patterned carpet. To one side of the reception desk, open doors look through to a dining area filled with tables and chairs. Many of them are occupied and the distinctive smell of roasting meat, freshly brewed coffee, and burnt tea cakes wafts through its doors. To the left is a short corridor cut off by double doors that Nate presumes leads to the bedrooms.

  “How can I help?” A young woman offers a perfunctory receptionists’ smile. Any disquiet she has at Nate’s dishevelled appearance is professionally hidden.

  With effort, Nate raises a smile in return. Appear normal. He checks the label on her shirt front. It reads ‘Sally’. “We’d like two rooms, please Sally. One twin, and one double with extra beds for two children.”

  “Thank you.” She turns to her screen, clicks, frowns, then smiles. “That’s lucky! I can offer you our two remaining rooms, although both are doubles. We can arrange two extra beds for the children. Unfortunately, they’re not on the same corridor.”

  “Oh, well-”

  “That’s fine. We’ll take them.”

  “How many nights will you be staying with us?”

  “Two.”

  “Just the one.”

  The receptionist’s confused frown is expertly hidden within a second. Ellie gives a nervous laugh. “Just the one.”

  “You asked for a twin room, sir. Are there any more guests to arrive?”

  Nate’s heart skips a beat. He hasn’t thought the scenario through. Does he admit Josh is waiting in the car, or just sneak him in through the back?

  A couple walk from the dining room. The man sneezes loudly and this time the receptionist’s reaction isn’t hidden quickly enough; the glance she gives the couple is one of fear followed by another to the telephone beside her hand. Her fingers twitch, then settle, and her professional smile returns as the couple disappear out into the sun. Nate hopes the children have listened to Ellie’s coaching. He takes a breath and lies, “No, it’s just the four of us.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Only a short corridor and a fire exit lies between Nate’s room and the rear of the motel, but one hundred feet of car-filled tarmac and open space lies between that and Josh. Getting Josh inside the motel without attracting attention is still a problem Nate hasn’t solved.

  “If I carry him in,” he says looking out of the bedroom window to the expanse of tarmac and then hedgerow that skirts the services, “it will attract too much attention. The bright yellow suit screams infection, and you saw that receptionist’s face when the man sneezed in the foyer, she was scared.”

  “But sneezing isn’t a symptom of the infection.”

  “We know that, but I’m not sure it matters. Everyone is on edge. She nearly picked up the phone.”

  “To call who?
”

  “The Police, I guess. And if the staff get a hint that Josh is sick, they won’t let him in.”

  “I think you’re being paranoid, Nate.” Ellie says with a glance at the two children curled up on the room’s double bed.

  Nate’s reply is a gruff, ‘perhaps’. He doesn’t agree with Ellie, but he’s not about to argue the point. His only concern is Josh stuck out in the car, on his own. “We have to get him in here. He can’t stay out there, and, somehow, I’ve got to get him to drink something.”

  Ellie’s eyes open with fear.

  “I don’t think the fog will bother with us Ellie. We’re immune to it; we would have been infected a long time ago if not. It wasn’t interested in you, me, or the children when we were trapped with it in the car—only poor Tina.” A flash of memory spikes him and he winces at the image of Tina’s rictus grin as she clawed at his face and her prone body laying bloody on the road.

  “You’ll have to carry him. How else are you going to get him inside?”

  The conversation is chronically circular! “If I do that, people are bound to take notice.”

  Ellie frowns and then her eyes brighten. “I’ve had an idea ...”

  “I’m all ears!”

  “These places usually have a complimentary wheelchair for guests.”

  “And?”

  “Well, if you go to the reception and tell them I’ve hurt my ankle and request to borrow it, then we can wheel Josh in.”

  “There’s still the suit.”

  “Cover him with a sheet.”

  “A sheet!”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Nate has to admit that he doesn’t.

  “You parked your car away from the main entrance, and if you bring him in through the back there’s a chance you won’t be seen anyway.”

  Nate grumbles a pessimistic ‘Well ...’

  “It’s worth a try. If they do see you, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “OK-”

  “Plus, if you push me out there and I swap over with Josh ...”

  “OK. We’ll try it.”

  A new hope sparks in Nate. What had seemed impossible now seems possible, and in the next ten minutes he procures a wheelchair and a large yellow serviette the same colour as Josh’s suit. He hands it to Ellie.

  “A nice touch!” she laughs and ties it as a headscarf with wisps of auburn hair sticking out at the sides.

  Todd, having woken, sits on the edge of the bed and laughs. “You look like an old granny in that!”

  Ellie bats at him, tapping him lightly on the leg. “Cheek!”

  Next to Todd on the bed, Mimi giggles as Ellie sits in the wheelchair.

  “Both of you are laughing at me then?”

  Although Nate doesn’t join the laughter, his own mood lightens, and he swings Ellie to the door with a flicker of hope.

  SALLY’S FEET ACHE. They’ve been aching since midday, four hours after her shift started. Usually, being on reception duty bored her to death, she much preferred the hustle of the dining room and kitchen. Analise takes her place behind the reception desk and she makes a quick stop in the kitchen, asks Lottie to join her for a break, and makes her way to the rear of the building for a quick cigarette. She has perfume in her bag to disguise the smoke, and chewing gum to clean her breath. Management aren’t keen on them smoking, but Sally knows her rights, and she has the right to a break and a smoke. She slips off her heels as she reaches the back door, and sighs in relief as her feet hit the cool ground. The grass beneath the shade of the overhanging tree opposite the motel’s bins will be even cooler.

  “Let’s stand over on the grass, Lottie. My feet are so bloody hot!”

  Both women walk across to the overhanging tree and stand beneath its cooling shade. The sensation of cold is delightful on Sally’s feet and she sighs again with pleasure.

  “I cannot believe how busy we’ve been today,” Lottie says as she follows Sally’s lead and removes her own shoes. “Ooh, that is nice.”

  “The motel is full. I can’t remember the last time the motel was full.”

  “It’s because people are moving up north, away from that infection.”

  “I’ve had to turn people away. The last two rooms went this morning.”

  Lottie shudders. “Gives me the willies—seeing those videos.”

  “They’ve taken them down. I’m not sure they were even real.”

  “Not real?”

  Sally reaches in her pocket for her cigarette packet. “Well, these days, you just can’t tell. My dad said it was all fake news, but he still went to the supermarket and stocked up on beans.”

  As she tips the lid of her cigarette packet open, she notices movement among the cars. She steps back into the overhanging branches, tugging at Lottie’s elbow. The woman follows. Peering left then right, a man pushes a wheelchair from between a parked van and a green car. In the chair is a blanket-covered figure. Nothing can be seen of its features though it looks to be the size of a woman or a small man. A glimmer of light flashes where its eyes would be, a surface caught by the sun, possibly sunglasses.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Sally whispers back. “But the bloke’s called Nathaniel Penrose. He booked in earlier with a woman and a couple of kids—neither looked like his though. I thought it was weird when he asked for a twin room and then said it was just for him.”

  “Cheapskate! He’s trying to get a room for free.”

  “No. You book per room, not per person here.”

  “So, what’s he doing sneaking someone in then?”

  “I have no idea. And, he said that the wheelchair was for his wife.”

  “Maybe that is his wife.”

  “Maybe, but why would she be covered from head to foot in a blanket. It’s not exactly cold today. He said she’d twisted her ankle.”

  Lottie is silent as she watches the man’s progress. He takes a final look around, then pushes the wheelchair back in through the open fire exit door.

  “Are you going to report him?”

  Sally thinks for a moment. She should report him, but it is nearly the end of her shift and she desperately wants to get back home and take a shower. The ache in her belly is worse today. Reporting the man would mean talking to Carol, her supervisor, and having to stay back to answer a load of questions. The whole thing would probably end in some horrible scene with the man, and maybe involve the police. “No. But tomorrow I’m going to find out who he’s got in that wheelchair.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Back in the motel room, Ellie helps Nate lay Josh out on the bed. The air is muggy and the faint stench of faeces wafts in the room. Todd wrinkles his nose and Mimi holds hers. Nate creeps with embarrassment and makes a mental note to spray the room with the aerosol deodorant he’d found in Josh’s pocket. It’s not the boy’s fault, but he does smell.

  “Why does he stink like that?”

  “It’s not Josh that stinks, Mimi,” Ellie explains. “It’s the fog.”

  “Open the window. We can get some fresh air.” Todd moves towards the window.

  “No!” Nate snaps. Startled at the sharpness in Nate’s words, Todd stops and steps closer to Ellie. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to shout. It’s just ... I know it smells, but we have to keep the windows and door closed.”

  “Why?” Mimi asks.

  “To keep the fog in.”

  “It’s already in.” Todd points to Josh’s helmet. The fog has made the visor opaque, it moves with the rhythm of Josh’s breathing.

  “I’m going to take the helmet off.”

  Mimi makes an odd mewling sound.

  “It’s alright, Mimi,” Todd soothes. “We’re immune. It won’t touch us—like in the car.” Mimi clings to his side and stares with wide eyes at Josh on the bed.

  “He’s right, Mimi,” Ellie adds though Nate senses doubt.

  “I am, and if I’m right, all that will happen when I take off the helmet is tha
t the fog will move about the room and go back to Josh.”

  Mimi mewls again.

  “Let me take the kids back to our room, Nate. They don’t need to be here.”

  Nate agrees and within a minute the room is empty. He fills a glass with water and wets a flannel, places them on the bedside table, then sits beside his son. Josh’s breath is shallow. Leaning over, he wipes a thumb across the helmet’s visor. The fog undulates, triggered by his movements. Nate’s flesh creeps. He takes a breath, and removes the helmet. The fog rises in a spiral and twists in a mesmerising dance. Nate watches as it moves across the ceiling as though feeling its way along. It twists, twirls, descends, ascends, passes the window and then the door, and returns to hover about a foot above Josh. It makes no effort to get near Nate. He sighs with relief, sure that if Ellie were to return, the same would happen to her.

  With the fog hanging above Josh, he checks the boy. His skin is sallow and his lips dry. Nate turns the boy’s head gently, checking the back of his skull. The wound has stopped bleeding. It looks superficial although without an x-ray it is impossible to tell what damage has been done. He eases the boy’s eyelids apart, steeling himself before looking inside. Both are clear of the repulsive red and cataract-blue of the infected. Both pupils become pinpricks as light from the window shines across them. As far as Nate is aware, that’s a good sign, it means no brain damage. Taking another pillow, he props Josh up higher, then squeezes the wet cloth onto his lips. Water drips down his chin. He tries again, pulling open the boy’s jaw and allows the drips to wet his mouth. Josh coughs in reaction to the water tickling the back of his throat. Nate stops, unsure whether the boy is choking, or whether it is a good sign; he’s reacting, not paralysed.

  A knock at the door and he lets Ellie back in. She steps next to the bed and then freezes. The mist shivers, coils, then twists towards her. With a small squeal, she jumps back.

  “Stay still, Ellie. Let it test you.”

  “Test me!”

  The mist undulates and a tendril extends towards her. Ellie shivers, but holds still. One foot from her face, the mist stops, twists back on itself and then retreats. This time, instead of spiralling to the ceiling or flexing beside the walls, it descends and disappears into Josh’s open mouth.