Human Nature (Book 4): Human Nature IV

by Borthwick, Finlay

  Immediately, Rajan’s priorities were redirected to the man he felt obliged to save, “Take it easy! Listen, I’m gonna get you out of this--!”

  But Garry objected, “No, no! You need to listen to me!” He demanded firmly.

  “I’ll listen to you once you’re out of this mess, okay?” Rajan’s resolve was as firm as ever.

  “For Heaven’s sake man!!” Garry’s voice bellowed, much like the thunder around them.

  Rajan was taken slightly aback by this forcefulness.

  Garry cleared his throat, “Please,” he begged with a softer tone, “Just listen to me, okay? What I need to say cannot wait, alright?”

  Putting his stubborn nature to one side momentarily, Rajan yielded, “Alright. Go on.”

  Garry nodded idly in appreciation, the pain upon the rest of his body hindering him for making any further gestures. “I was—Hiding.” He panted.

  “Hiding? From what?”

  “Not ‘What,’ ‘Who.’” Garry revealed irksomely.

  “Okay, well,” Rajan rectified himself, “From who, then?”

  “They call themselves… The Bandits.” Garry’s wheezing intensified the more that he spoke.

  “Bandits?”

  Garry nodded, once again idly, in affirmation. “A long, long time ago, they had a leader—His name was… Kye? Kyle? Something like that.”

  Although he was listening to Garry, Rajan was still looking around desperately as he tried to figure out what the easiest way to save Garry would be.

  “I don’t remember how exactly, but this Kye, Kyle, whatever his name is—” Garry was becoming lethargic now, “He died… And ever since that day, these bandits, they’ve been roaming the streets of London in his honour; like a cult, in fact.”

  “Stay with me, Garry.” Rajan prompted him as he noticed Garry was beginning to pass out, “Keep talking. Come on, tell me more about these bandits.” He pushed him in order to keep him awake.

  “…Their de-facto leader is called Euan.” Garry revealed, “He is merciless—They don’t call themselves ‘The Bandits’ for nothing.” His eyes became droopy.

  Rajan lightly tapped Garry’s cheek, “Stay awake, Garry. You have to stay awake. Why do they call themselves bandits? Tell me, please.”

  “They kill anyone they meet and loot things from their dead body.” Garry professed in one singular breath, fearing that his time was coming to an end, but still needing to get all the information that he knew out to someone.

  “I appreciate your warning.” Rajan acknowledged. “Now, let’s get you out from under there.” His stubbornness had returned to him.

  “No, no—Wait.” Garry wasn’t finished. Although he continued to cough and choke, he needed to hand all of the information over to somebody who was still alive.

  Rajan was impatient, though respecting Garry’s wishes, he continued to listen to him anyway.

  “A few months back, I saw this other group—I thought they were part of the Bandits’ clan, so I avoided them. But now, well, now I’m not so sure—”

  Rajan nodded, prompting for Garry to continue his story in order to keep him awake.

  “In the heart of the city, there’s an old survivors camp… I don’t know what happened to that group, but if they’re still around, you’d best bet that’s where they’ll be.” Little did Garry know that this hypothesis was absolutely correct. “The Bandits raided it many years ago, and as far as I can tell, they never went back there—They prefer to live out in the open streets, desperate to leave a mark on their territory.”

  “Well,” Rajan gazed his eyes upwards, gesturing to the freak storm that was occurring outside of this little jacket-tent, “I think Mother Nature’s the one in charge of this place now.”

  “All the same—” Garry gurgled; his nose began to bleed as a second wave of blood suddenly gushed out of his still-impaled wound. “If you find those survivors,” he slurred his words as blood and bile built up in his throat, “They may be able to help you rid London of the bandit threat once and for all.” He looked Rajan sternly in the eyes for his final words, “Save this city, my friend. Save it…”

  Having been caught up in what Garry was telling him, Rajan had neglected to notice the fact that Garry was now bleeding out again. “Shit! Garry! Hold on!” He proclaimed in a sudden burst of panic before rising to his feet and putting his jacket back on.

  ‘CRASH!’

  A nearby building was struck by lightning; brick and plaster flung off of it as the high voltage chipped away the corner of the rooftop…

  The rain continued to pour down through the large gap in the hall ceiling, which was growing larger as the downpour peeled the roofing away.

  None of the survivors had moved from the spot which they were just moments after the helicopter blade had come plunging down; the headless corpse of its’ victim remained lying there on the ground as well.

  “It’s getting bigger.” Rob noted the growing hole in the ceiling. “We need to leave, right now.”

  “You wanna tempt fate and run across the hall? Be my guest.” Michelle sarcastically offered. “Where are you even gonna run to? It’s no safer out there in the open, remember.”

  Rob shrugged, “I don’t know! The only thing I know right now is that I don’t want my bloody head to be cut clean off!”

  Michelle sighed, “That was a one-in-a-million thing, Rob.”

  “And yet still, it happened.” He reminded her.

  Then, redirecting everybody’s attention, the double doors came flying open; Rajan marched through them. He was completely soaked from head to toe, his hair was wavy and ruining, and there were large tears in his clothes.

  “Rajan!” Rob proclaimed jovially. As he motioned to get up and run over to his friend, he backed down again, not willing to ‘tempt fate,’ as Michelle had worded it.

  There was a glum look on Rajan’s face. Whatever had just happened to him, it was still taking its’ toll. As such, he had not even noticed the gigantic helicopter blade that was sticking out of the floor.

  “Looks like he’s seen better days.” Maylene fruitlessly commented.

  “Leave it, May.” Rob mumbled to her in defence of his friend.

  Rajan, still with his glum expression, continued to take a long and solemn stride towards his comrades.

  “Did you find him?” Michelle asked, recalling Rajan’s reasoning for not coming inside in the first place.

  Just like Garry had done, Rajan idly nodded. “I found him.” He revealed.

  “Well, where is he?” Michelle further queried as she looked past Rajan in a daze; there was nobody behind him.

  “Dead.” Rajan heartlessly announced…

  Chapter 9: The Eye Of The Storm

  From one of the rooms on the ground floor of the hotel, Gwen and Annabelle looked out of the window in complete awe; never had they seen such a fierce, yet strangely beautiful, hurricane.

  Elliot was also in the room. However, he was lying down peacefully on the king-size mattress. After all, there would be very little point in a blind man standing at a window.

  Gwen turned on her walkie-talkie, purely out of curiosity, “Anyone there? It’s Gwen. Can anyone hear me?”

  The response was nothing but static.

  “Look at that.” Gwen mumbled to Annabelle, “The interference has taken our communications right out.”

  Whilst in any other circumstance the lack of communication would have been quite a concern, in this situation, Gwen and Annabelle were simply content enough to be able to enjoy the full extent of British weather once more.

  “We never had anything like this in Czechia, did we?” Elliot aptly commented.

  Cora and Mac were taking refuge in a decaying semi-detached house. Like Gwen and Annabelle, they too were staring outside at the torrential rain.

  “Remember we had something like this back in Ireland?” Mac commented.

  “Not quite.” Cora gestured towards a loose vehicle tyre being carried down the street outside by
the raging breeze. “Never got caught up in a storm that could move objects that heavy.”

  “Hmm. Fair point, actually.” Mac admitted.

  There was a loud rumble of thunder in the menacing dark sky above.

  “When I was a kid, I’d cry myself to sleep if there was a thunderstorm during the night.” Cora revealed; despite having known Mac for almost half-a-decade now, he knew very little about her, as did the rest of Cora’s group.

  “Oh, really?” Mac wanted to know more about Cora’s past, and thought there was no better opportunity to do so than the during the situation which they were currently in. “Were you afraid of the dark as well?”

  Cora gently laughed, “The dark? No. Just freak storms. Actually, I loved the dark!” She proclaimed with enthusiasm. “I always used to be so fascinated by the idea of a big scary monster hiding in the corner of my room.”

  Mac raised a curious eyebrow at her, “That’s a little odd, don’t you think? Most children would be the total opposite.”

  “Oh yeah, without a doubt!”

  A brief silence came between the two.

  “You’ve never told us much about your past.” Mac decided to say it for how it was, rather than beat around the bush. “Was there something that—I don’t know—Maybe made you not wanna talk about it?”

  She shook her head casually, “Not particularly. I just don’t think there was ever really a right time to do so.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Mac understood where she was coming from. “But still, it’s always nice to try and get to know the strangers around you a little better, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe, but not always.” Cora responded cryptically. “The person who you were before, and the person who you are now—For some people, they’re two completely different individuals.”

  To Mac, it sounded as though Cora was speaking from experience.

  “But you’re mostly right, Mac.” She glanced over at him, “Now that we’ve all come together in this place – Me, my mother, my old friends, my new friends – I think it’s time we all got to know each other indeed.” She indicated that she had no intentions of leaving her mother ever again.

  “I’m glad you’ve come to that decision!” Mac declared as he punched the air jovially. “You know, the thing I want to know most about our new friends is—” He ceased his words abruptly upon noticing something outside.

  It took Cora several seconds to realise that this stop was not intentional. “Mac? What is it?” She enquired.

  Mac’s expression had very quickly become one of dread, with a troubled feeling evident in his eyes.

  As Cora turned her head to follow Mac’s gaze, she found herself being tackled to the ground.

  “Get down!” Mac cried out as he pummelled Cora and took her down onto the floor with him.

  Less than a second later, a large and bold tree branch came crashing through the window.

  “Ouch!” Cora proclaimed; as the branch had smashed through the pane, she felt several microscopic shards pierce her skin.

  “GAH!” Mac squealed in the exact same moment, for he too had just been bombarded with a great many sharp and stinging shards.

  The large, wet, and mouldy tree branch had been blown all the way to the back of the front room, smashing the two vases on the mantelpiece above the fireplace as it was thrown.

  Cora and Mac’s hair began to blow about recklessly from the overpowering draught that now ravaged through the open-air windowsill.

  “Come on! Let’s go down into the basement!” Mac yelled out over the fierce gale as he gestured towards a small cupboard door on the wall that was perpendicular to where him and Cora were shielding.

  In an instant, Cora complied with Mac’s request, instinctively grabbing his hand for comfort as she did so.

  Mac took the lead as he and Cora made a run for the door.

  “Got it!” Mac announced as he flattened himself against the wall next to the door, pulling at the handle with all his might to force it open. “Go! Get down there!” He put Cora’s safety before his own, holding the door open against the ferocious wind so that she could be safe.

  The thunder rumbled out from the dismal and depressing sky once more. Though this time, due to the smashed front window, it was much louder now.

  Once Cora had safely descended the stairs into the basement, Mac slipped through the gap and slammed the door shut behind him; the two of them were now safely hidden away from the hurricane beneath the semi-detached house.

  ‘THUMP!’

  And it appeared that they had descended just in time, as only a few moments after Mac had closed the door behind them, the tyre which he and Cora had seen blow past earlier had now been thrown by the wind in through the open window and had just pounded against the same wall which the basement door was on…

  Adela and Tia were taking shelter in Alek and Emile’s cottage. The engaged couple’s humble home was far out from the rest of the safe zone. In fact, it was so far out that one of the corners where two of the decaying walls around the city met was visible from out the back windows.

  Tia was shaking, for the poor little girl was absolutely terrified.

  “It’s alright honey, I’ve got you. Uncle Alek’s here, everything’s gonna be alright.” Alek tended to Tia, for she did indeed love him as though he were her actual uncle.

  Adela and Emile were stood at opposite ends of the room, both looking out of opposing windows; things were naturally quite tense between the two, though Alek and Tia were none the wiser.

  “Will—Will you protect me, Uncle—Alek?” Tia’s lips quivered as she looked up at Alek with frightened eyes.

  “Of course I will.” Alek comforted her, weaving her fingers through her hair as he did so.

  “It looks pretty bad out there.” Emile remarked.

  “Yeah, alright. Not in front of Tia please.” Adela rebutted without turning around. “She’s scared enough as it is.”

  “Right, right.” Emile acknowledged his mistake. “I’m sorry, Tia.” Like Adela, he did not turn around either. On the inside, Emile was still raging at the bombshell which Adela had dropped on him just several days prior.

  “Would you like me to read you a story?” Alek asked Tia. “I’ll read you one now, and Uncle Emile will read you your bedtime story tonight. That way, you’ll get two stories in one day! How does that sound?”

  Though still shivering, Tia’s face lit up with a vacant smile, “Yes please, Uncle Alek!”

  Alek was jovial to hear the excitement in her voice, for just as she looked up at him as a proper uncle, he looked down at her as a proper niece as well. “Alright then. You head on upstairs and get into bed,” Alek suggested, for because Tia would have sleepovers at her Uncle Alek’s and Uncle Emile’s so very often, a special little room had been prepared just for her. “And I’ll come on up with one of your favourites!”

  “Yay!” Tia happily exclaimed as she flew up the stairs in an instant.

  “I’d better be quick!” Alek remarked to Adela and Emile, “Poor thing will be terrified if lightning strikes whilst she’s alone up there.”

  Finally, Adela turned around; despite how tense things were between her and Emile, she harboured no ill-will towards Alek. “Thank you, Alek.” She nodded appreciatively to him, “She loves you so much, you know that, right?”

  Alek smiled, “And I love her too. She’s just like the niece that I never had.” He crouched down to pick up his water bottle from under the coffee table. “Babe,” he addressed Emile now, “I’ll be back down when she’s asleep, okay?”

  Emile nodded understandingly.

  Alek swiftly pulled him in for a kiss before making his way towards the stairs.

  “She’s a great kid.” Alek spoke sweetly of Tia to Adela.

  “I know, she’s wonderful.” Adela complimented her little sister. “If you need my help, just shout down.” She informed Alek that her assistance was at hand.

  “Will do.” Alek acknowledged this offer before ascend
ing up the stairs after his apocalyptic niece.

  Now, the downstairs of the cottage was totally and completely filled with an awkward silence.

  “Are we gonna talk about it?” Emile finally spoke up, though he did not turn from the window to face the soon-to-be mother of his child.

  “Underneath your fiancé’s roof? Classy.” Adela commented, beginning to believe that Emile did not in fact love Alek at all.

  “It’s killing me having to lie to him.” Emile wanted her to know this. “One drunken mistake is killing me, Adela. I hope you understand that.”

  She sneered at him, “If it was hurting you that badly, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

  Whilst Emile accepted this, he was beginning to get frustrated at Adela’s refusal to accept her part in this situation. “Just like you said, Adela, it takes two to tango. If I recall rightly, it was you who invited me to your bed, and not the other way around.”

  Adela snapped, but out of respect for Alek and Tia, she still kept her voice to a low grumble, “It’s a strong temptation, Emile.” She tried to use natural human instincts as an excuse for her actions. “When you’re drunk, you’re not yourself. I had a need, you were feeling lost, so we both came together for a one-off event.” She didn’t understand what was so immoral about what she had done.

  “A one-off event with consequences, might I add.” Emile spoke of Adela’s pregnancy with a tone of disgust.

  “Just don’t.” She advised Emile menacingly as she came close to snapping at him once more. Though again, for Alek and Tia’s humility, she knew she had to keep her cool.

  ‘BOOM!’

  A large explosion bellowed from outside of the cottage.

  “What the hell was that?!” Emile cried out in a panic.

  “Holy shit!” Adela proclaimed in dismay as she covered her mouth; evidently, whatever the explosion was, she had just witnessed it first-hand.

  Tia could be heard crying loudly from upstairs, as well as Alek’s muffled voice as he tried to comfort her.

  Putting his resentment of Adela aside, Emile rushed over to the window which she was at.