Just as I reach the right side, I hear a loud hiss coming from outside. I freeze, playing dead, as if I’m nothing more than a captured Nec, and wait for the sound to disappear. But it doesn’t, instead it lingers. I contemplate leaping out, confronting the Nec, slicing its head off with the spade—but I don’t. It’s not worth it. Don’t know how many there are. There could be ten of them—and weapon or not, I wouldn’t stand a chance. The number of bodies this side of the van is much higher, with zero room to squeeze a hand down to the compartment, let alone open it. I’ll have to drag some bodies out of the van.
How the hell am I supposed to do that discreetly?
Please, God, give me a break!
The noise is getting closer, as if it can smell that someone is alive in here. Need to kill it if I have any hope of retrieving the bottles. Slowly working my body along the sea of infected, I lock my eyes on the road, through the gap between the doors. Still can’t see the Nec. I can feel my shoulders tighten as the fear starts to swallow me.
Got no time to be scared. The clock is ticking.
Reaching the opening, I grab the spade, take in a lungful of mouldy air, and leap out onto the road. The van door is blocking my view of the Nec so I quickly step forward to confront it, swinging the weapon blindly in the air.
When I see him— the rotten mess of a man—crawling on the concrete, I’m nearly sick to my stomach. Not because of the missing legs, the lifeless, cold eyes, and the thick trail of blood and gore being dragged along the ground. None of that matters. All I feel is a deep sense of loss, of sadness for this poor man. Andrew was my friend. And to see him like this twists and rips my heart in two. The sight is unbearable. My former mentor reaches up to me, his hand still wearing the company-issued gloves. There’s no strength in this Nec, no anger. Just a virus, trying desperately to cling onto its host—a host that barely has enough body to control. When he snarls at me through bloodied teeth, I don’t flinch. I don’t feel horror.
Instead I burst out into tears, just as I did when I shot the little boy. But this time I don’t have Andrew to ease my suffering, to reassure me that everything’ll be okay, that this job will get easier. Instead I’m all alone, stuck in this Godforsaken place, with the lives of two children in my hands.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” I sob, pointing the spade at Andrew’s half-eaten throat, “but I have no choice.” And then I drive the sharp metal through his neck, slicing his head clean off.
Taking in deep, measured breaths, I stop myself from screaming into the night, trying not to look at the severed head rolling down The Mount. Instead, I focus on reaching into Andrew’s vest pocket, and removing the antiviral case. I open it and see a bottle of clear liquid.
Undamaged.
A warm feeling of elation fills my stomach, rushing up to my chest, as I slip it into my pocket.
I don’t look at Andrew’s mutilated body, still very much alive, with hands still trying to grasp my legs. I don’t let myself. All I see is a big strong man, smoking his cigarette, smiling at me, rolling his eyes at all those other narrow-minded, dickhead Cleaners. Not this…thing.
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you today. But you saved us. You’ve saved Josh. Even in death.
Thank you, my friend.
Running as fast as I can down the hill, I throw thoughts of Andrew’s head to the back of my own. I can’t let it slow me down, not when I’m so close to saving Josh. At the bottom on the street I see the lane entrance—it’s teeming with Necs! There’s at least eight limping along the pavement as if somehow patrolling my only way in.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself as I squat down behind a parked car. I’ll have to go ‘round to the front of the house instead. Staying low to the concrete, I sneak across the road without them spotting me. From the top house on Marbleview, I peer down at the street. Everything seems quiet enough. Please let it stay that way. I sprint down, eyes darting back and forth for surprise attacks. Just a few houses away, I hear the sound of glass smashing. I quickly duck down by another car and wait to find out where it came from. Ahead, I see three Necs scrambling through someone’s shattered living-room window, unaffected by the dead flesh scraping against the razor-sharp pieces still in the frame.
My heart races even more as another two come charging out, as if they have no further use for whatever was in the house. Their moans are loud, causing another four Necs to stumble out of an open front door just across from me.
There’re too many of them. I can’t risk them seeing me going into the house; they’ll storm the place, draw attention to it, and then there’ll be an army of Necs at the door. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” I say under my breath. I’ll have to wait it out.
But Josh doesn’t have time to wait!
A minute or so goes by and I watch with dismay as even more Necs join the pack. I count fifteen in total. Too many to take on with the spade. Maybe I should try the lane again—it could be clear by now.
Just as I’m about to retreat up the road, I hear an ear-piercing whistle coming from the bottom of the street. I turn my head and gasp in shock. Standing about thirty metres from the Necs is Amelia.
Where the hell did she come from?
“Come on, you rotten fuckers!” She screams at the top of her voice, gesturing with her hands for them to follow. “Come and get me!”
What the fuck is she doing? Is she nuts?
Without hesitation, the Necs start to charge down the hill towards her, snarling like starved animals. Within seconds, the front door is clear. I race to it, spade in one hand, key in the other. Please, God, let her be okay. When I’m safely inside the house, I quickly close the door and lock it, and then race into the kitchen. Josh is sitting at the table, holding up a bandaged hand; the colour drained from his cheeks.
“Did you get it?” he asks, groggily. “Did you get the antiviral?”
“Yes. I got it.”
“And did you see Amelia? Is she safe?”
“She’ll be fine, Josh. Don’t worry.”
I sit next to him and pull the bandage up a little to inspect the bite. There’s a mixture of dried blood around the teeth marks. The veins in Josh’s hand have started to turn black. Not a good sign. I roll his sleeve up all the way to his shoulder. Pulling out the injection gun from my vest, I clip the antiviral bottle onto the top. Can’t quite believe I’m about to give a nine-year-old boy an injection. What if I miss? Hit a nerve, or an artery or something?
That’s the least of my worries!
“Is it gonna hurt?” he asks, looking up at me, his eyes vast with dread.
I shake my head. “Only a little sting. Nothing to worry about. And it’ll be over in a second.”
He nods his head and closes his eyes tightly.
Trying to keep my quivering hand from shaking, I stick the tiny needle into the flesh of his upper arm, and then push the white trigger. Trying to ignore the sobs coming from Josh’s mouth, I focus on the liquid quickly disappearing from the bottle. I carefully pull out the needle and put the gun on the table. “Well done, buddy. All over.”
Josh opens his eyes, wipes the tears away and sniffs hard. “That hurt a lot, Cath.”
“I’m sorry. But it’s finished now.”
“Will you still have to cut my hand off?”
“No, of course not. We’ll just have to wait a little to see if it’s worked.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. All right?”
“Okay.”
“Good boy.”
Getting up off the chair, I make my way over to the sink and pour two glasses of water. Still exhausted, I swallow it in one, and then return to the table and give Josh the other. He takes a sip and starts to unroll his sleeve.
“How are you feeling, buddy?” I ask, placing my palm over his forehead to feel for a temperature. “Any fever?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re not burning up, so that’s a good sign.
“When’
s Amelia coming back?”
“I’m sure she won’t be long,” I reply, trying desperately to conceal the worry I feel swirling around my stomach. “She’ll be fine.”
Will she? I don’t know. Maybe. She’s pretty strong. And clever. Plus, she probably knows these streets better than most.
“She told me to keep an eye out for you in the kitchen,” he continues, “while she looked from my bedroom window.”
“What, she went upstairs on her own? After what happened earlier?”
He nods.
“Bloody hell, your sister’s something else.”
“She’s not scared of anything.”
“I don’t doubt it. She’s pretty brave. Much braver than me.”
“And me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’ve been through a lot tonight, too. How’s your hand?”
“It stings. But it’s not that bad. It’s not as bad as when I sprained my wrist.”
“Oh, that sounds painful,” I say, eyes fixed on the blackened veins, waiting, praying for them to disappear. “How did you manage that then?”
“I fell.”
“Really. From where?”
“At school. One of the boys from my class pushed me down the stairs by the corridor.”
“That’s awful. Why did he do that?”
“Because he’s a bully—and bullies don’t like foster kids. They used to call me a scrubber and they’d kick me under the table at lunchtime. They’re horrible.”
“So what happened to the bully? Did you tell the teacher?”
“No. I couldn’t. He said he’d kill my sister if I told my teacher or my foster parents. And then I’d have nobody left to look after me.”
“He sounds like a rotten little boy. So what happened then?”
“Nothing. He said sorry to me a few days later.”
“Really! How come?”
“Well, he didn’t say anything about not telling Amelia. So she went down to where he lives, which is not that far from here, and punched him in the nose. She told him that if he ever touched me again she’d kill his parents instead. And then he’d be a foster kid, too.”
I can’t help but laugh. Even with everything that’s going on. “Well, as much as I don’t condone violence,” I lean into him and whisper, “it sounds like the little shit deserved it.”
“Definitely.”
20
Josh has been sleeping for the past fifteen minutes. I wish I could take him up to his bed, but Michael’s twitching remains are still up there. Instead, I’ve pushed two kitchen chairs together, and thrown a coat over him to keep him warm.
Why is he sleeping?
Hard to tell if it’s the antiviral taking effect.
Or the virus.
I pray it’s the former as I watch the back door for Amelia to return. It’s already been too long. Where the hell is she? I feel the need to look for her but can’t possibly leave Josh alone.
Shouldn’t have left Michael up there on the landing. Maybe I’ll drag what’s left of him into one of the other rooms. Josh’ll be okay on his own for a few minutes.
I put my palm softly on his forehead; there’s no fever. That’s something at least.
“Amelia?” Josh croakily asks, his eyes half-open.
“Try to sleep,” I whisper. “She’ll be home soon enough. I’m sure of it.”
“Why hasn’t she come back yet?”
“She’s probably waiting for the right moment.”
“Why?”
I shush him like a baby, stroking the top of his head. “Try not to worry; she’s a clever girl.”
He closes his eyes. I watch him for a minute or two until I’m certain he’s fallen back to sleep. Quietly getting up off my chair, I make my way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As I pass the living room door, I glance inside at the empty room, once host to their foster parents. I notice the lock; it’s broken completely off, taking with it some of the doorframe. Visions of Juliet in the bedroom, biting Josh’s hand, flood my mind. I see myself sticking the knife into her eye; it sends a cold quiver of repulsion through me.
What’s to stop her breaking out again?
She’s clearly more than capable.
No, she isn’t. She probably had Michael’s help the first time. There’s no way she could have done that on her own.
Could she?
I climb the stairs and reach the landing. My heart shudders when I see Michael’s remains, still convulsing, nails scratching at the carpet. I try not to look at his face—what’s left of it. It’s too much, even after everything that’s happened today. Without a second thought, I pull out two cable-ties from my vest, and secure his limbs. I don’t bother with the muzzle; he no longer has a mouth. I drag his moving corpse into Amelia’s bedroom. There are worse places to leave a Nec—but not many.
I close the door and return to the landing.
“Shit,” I mutter when I hear the back door slamming shut. “Josh! Wait! Don’t go out there!”
I race down the stairs, towards the kitchen, my stomach churning at the thought of him outside alone—injured.
Sick.
Turned?
“Josh!” I shout as I burst into the kitchen.
“She’s home!” Josh says, hugging his sister tightly as she catches her breath. “She made it! She’s safe!”
I gasp with relief.
Just to see her face again, in one piece, makes me almost want to cry my heart out. But I don’t, instead I go to her, take her by the hand and bring it up to my chest. “Thank God you’re safe.”
Still struggling to breathe, Amelia sits down at the table.
I quickly fill up a glass of water and hand it to her. “I don’t know if you’re crazy, stupid, or brave—but what you did out there was beyond belief.”
“Thanks,” she manages to say between gulps of water.
“That’s not a compliment,” I reply, shaking my head. “You could’ve been killed. What the hell were you thinking? You’re just a kid.”
“This kid was busy trying to save my brother’s life. And yours. If I hadn’t distracted those Necs, you would have never got back in one piece.”
“But what if they’d caught you?”
“But they didn’t. They were pretty slow. Most of them anyway.”
I go quiet for a moment, unable to think of anything worthwhile to add.
“Look,” Amelia continues. “I don’t care about how stupid I was; all I care about is my brother.” She reaches over and takes hold of Josh’s wounded hand. “Did you get the antiviral?” She peels back the bandage.
“Careful, Amelia,” Josh says, pulling his hand away. “It still hurts.”
“We need to see it,” I tell him. “Otherwise we won’t know if the medicine worked.”
Josh slowly begins to unravel the blood-soaked bandage, revealing the bite mark.
“Is it better?” Josh asks, a slight whimper in his voice. “Am I gonna turn into one of those things outside?”
A huge smile of relief covers my face when I see that the blackened veins have vanished. “I think you’re going to be fine,” I reply. “You haven’t been sick, and you don’t have a fever. It looks like it worked.”
Amelia grabs his arm, pulling his hand up to her face. “Let me see.” Instead of smiling, she lets out a drawn-out groan. “Oh thank God,” she says, pulling him in for a hug. “Don’t scare me like that again. Okay?”
“Okay, sis. I promise.”
I watch them for a moment, letting their love for each other take me away from this nightmare. I almost want to cry.
But I’ve cried enough today.
I pull up a chair next to her. “So what happened out there? You were gone for so long. Josh has been worried sick. We both were.”
“Well,” she takes another sip of water, “after they chased me down the street, I hid behind a car, and then when they’d passed me, I made my way back up the lane. But the middle of the lane was packed with Necs, ten, maybe fi
fteen, so I had to wait in one of the gardens. I stayed in a shed until the coast was clear.”
“That sounds pretty horrible,” Josh says. “So they didn’t bite you then?”
Amelia snorts. “What, me? As if. They’d have to catch me first.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say. “And I thought I was a hard ass.”
“Foster kids have to be tough. Isn’t that right, bro? We don’t take crap from anyone.”
Josh nods proudly.
“So are you sure you managed to give those Necs the slip?” I ask.
“Yeah. Of course. They were easy. Dumb as cows. I just climbed over—”
Suddenly the glass panel of the back door shatters, spraying shards all over the kitchen floor.
“Oh, shit!” I scream as I watch a pack of Necs scramble through the opening, foam dripping from their ravenous jaws.
“Ruuuuuuuun!”
21
The house is alive with growls of the dead.
Inside the hallway, I barge open the kitchen door and hold it shut, the weight of multiple Necs scratching and pushing behind it.
“What are we going to do?” Amelia screams; Josh is holding onto her arm, tears streaming down his cheeks. “There’s too many of them!”
“We need to get out of this house,” I say, with no time to weigh up a real plan. “Open the front door, Amelia.”
Eyes wide with terror, she slowly pulls it open, but then is jolted backwards, taking her brother with her, as a dead-man tries to enter the house. I have no choice but to let go of the kitchen door and race over to help. I push the front door shut, trapping the Nec half inside. “Get upstairs!” I scream. “Now!”
The hallway starts to fill with a small army of Necs from the kitchen. I release the front door and then bolt up the stairs.
On the landing, I see Amelia holding a long wooden stick with a hook on the end, trying to reach the attic hatch on the ceiling. “Leave it!” I shout. “There’s no time!”
Burn The Dead Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 30
