by Stevens, GJ
“Get to the cars,” I shouted, as I followed down the stairs, rushing as fast as I could to get to where she waited at the backdoor smashed to the side, weaving around the obstacle course of TVs, consoles, DVD players and plastic boxes overflowing with designer shoes.
Out of the door, Cassie looked left and right. Our eyes met only for a moment, hers dropping to my knee as I leaned heavy against the wall. She paused, offered me the baseball bat and I shook my head; I didn't need a walking stick.
Around the corner of the building I waited at her shoulder; I was about to edge my way out when another gunshot ripped through the air, followed by a searing howl of pain.
My search for the sources of both noises interrupted as Cassie was off, running fast between the houses and not looking back. She was out and across the tarmac and crouched down by the side of the pickup, its rear overflowing with boxes and gadgets and all before I had cleared the gap.
I waited at the front of the house, seeing the procession of the elderly impossibly close, almost at the rear of the Land Rover.
Cassie's gaze was darting everywhere, but she couldn't see another man backing away from the door of the looter's cottage. He dressed the same as the others with a long kitchen knife high in his right hand, the left held up empty. She couldn't see the body lying out on the path leading away from the house; it was the man we'd watched emerge, trailing blood.
I watched her flinch as another shot raced from the house; watched as the guy dropped the knife, collapsing to the floor and hoped the neighbour with the gun knew we weren’t part of the looter’s gang.
I watched the car knock her back as a shot slammed against the front of the pickup, exploding the front left tyre.
Cassie turned, saw me standing between the buildings. She held her palm out for me to stay put, but I looked away as I saw one of the tracksuits appear. He was running hard from the back of the vigilante’s cottage toward the Land Rover and its rumbling engine.
The group of dead elderly inmates of a forgotten nursing home all twisted in his direction in a uniform turn. Somehow, his speed had caught their collective attention and they ignored Cassie altogether as they changed their course, veering towards the passenger door.
He didn't make it. A flash came from the doorway and the gun lowered for the reload as the shot slammed against his tracksuit, his wails of pain confirming it wasn't a clean kill.
Still the creatures headed in his direction, his vocal agony seeming to urge them on.
I ran, or tried, hobbling and almost collapsing on my knee each time I put down weight.
Cassie had seen my move and made her own, leaping towards the Land Rover. The creatures saw her run and the group split down the middle, half changing their course.
Still, she made it to the door and pulled it wide. She was in, despite the wrinkled hands scrabbling and bones crunching as she slammed the heavy door hard. Grinding the gears, she kangarooed around the pickup.
I changed my course and headed for the passenger door. I was going to make it, but as I turned to the cottage I saw the old man in the doorway, his face wet with tears and both barrels of the shotgun pointed in my direction.
62
With the Land Rover bucking, Cassie struggled at the controls as I came around the passenger door with no shots fired and my limbs still attached.
We were making slow progress, even once I'd sat in the passenger seat, still only just drawing alongside the cottage. I couldn't help but tempt fate and, turning to stare at the door, I hoped he'd not just cleared a jam; hoped he wasn't reloading a shell and wouldn't be repointing both barrels before pulling the trigger.
He stood still with his expression set harsh, the shotgun pointed to the ground and an old woman leaning on his shoulder. Her hand moved, hugging his waist. Her gaze fixed on mine, a kind smile on her creased face. We were out of their view in a moment.
“Swap over,” I said, and Cassie stared back, her face set in a terrified expression as she let go of the wheel and lifted her feet.
Our heads rocked forward as the engine stalled. Fists hammered at the windows, the daylight dulling as torsos crowded, their flesh weak against the glass.
Checking my door, I made sure it was locked, Cassie matching as she questioned with just her expression.
“Climb over,” I said, and watched as she rose from her seat, awkwardly curling her left leg across the centre console.
Right soon followed left, then came her body. For a moment she hovered above me, but her hands gave way and she collapsed to my lap.
My senses lit and not just with the pain as I felt her warmth through our clothes. Her hands were on my thighs, flat, drawing me in.
Clenching my teeth, I hoped time would not move on but the soft hammering of the windows reminded of our situation; reminded us we had to get going and had to move, had to get away from those things and from anyone who wouldn't care for what we'd just shared.
Pushing her high against my pain, she hovered above me with her hands on the door and I slid as I issued a tirade of foul language before slapping down into the driver's seat.
The car was surrounded with the elderly creatures, wrinkled skin, thin hair and the smell already radiating as if the windows were wide open.
I turned the key and the engine sprung to life, the car leaping forward just before it died. Glancing at Cassie, she looked through each of the windows as she backed away, moving as close as she could to the centre.
I pulled the car out of gear and turned the key again, letting the engine roar. The creatures reacted as we moved, the front four disappearing below the bonnet, the bull bars pushing them down; the suspension and hefty tyres hiding most of the sensation of their bones crushing as we drove.
Twisting to watch the crowd follow, Cassie called out before I could round the corner.
“Stop,” she said, slamming her hand on the dashboard. “You're leading them to the cottage.”
I hit the brakes hard, having to lock my arms to stop myself from hitting the windscreen.
She was right. In the mirror I watched the group of fifteen or more barely stumble as they crossed over their fallen.
“Turn around,” she said, and my gaze caught her. Her eyes were wide and serious.
I gunned the engine, turning the wheel full lock to the right before coming to a rest and staring at the pack, their stares locked in our direction.
Cassie had taken a wide paper map from the dashboard.
“They've marked where they've been,” she said, turning the paper so I could look from the windscreen and to the black crosses scoring out several clusters of houses radiating out in a circle.
Looking forward, but only for a moment, my gaze returned to the paper and I found a wider concentration of buildings with a large cross pinpointing a darker area. I nodded in its direction and she let the map drop.
“Let's lead them away,” I said.
Letting the speed build, I took out a cluster of three and split the group as their heads snapped forward, denting the bonnet one after the other.
Watching in the mirror, I slowed as each turned and started to follow.
Cassie twisted in her seat and nodded, picking up the map and concentrating on the marking I'd pointed out.
“It's the hospital they were talking about,” she said, not looking up from the page. “That's where we need to be.”
“What about the others?” I replied, using all my willpower not to speed away, taking us as far from those things as I could.
“What have we achieved?” she asked. “Did you hear what those two were saying?”
“About the hospital?”
“And everything else.”
I shook my head. I'd heard so much, most of it I didn't understand.
“I hope they can help Naomi,” I replied, nodding.
“We can try,” she said, and reeled off the directions. “It's about ten miles, but take it slow,” she said, peering between the map and back through the rear window.
&
nbsp; I drove as she instructed, keeping those things in sight for a good five minutes before we were confident they weren't going to turn back.
Still, I didn't speed. I was mindful of what could be around each corner, expecting someone to jump out at any moment and curse my dreams again.
It took longer than I’d wanted for the roads to widen to anything more than a narrow two-lane.
After twenty minutes of tentative driving, we were within two finger widths of our destination, on the map at least. Ahead sat a large car, a Mondeo, resting with its nose in the hedge, another the other side, narrowing the way. The gap looked just wide enough for us to fit.
With no-one around, no sign of life, we agreed without words it must have been one of the first checkpoints. Neither of us questioned for long as the engine note changed, spluttering and giving me cause to interrogate the dashboard.
I watched the petrol light which must have been bright orange since I'd taken the controls. The engine soon died and I dipped the clutch, hoping to get every inch of forward movement.
Rolling to a stop long before I wanted, I was out in the cold.
Cassie stood on the door sill, peering up high over the hedgerow on one side and the dry-stone wall on the other, watching as I limped around the car and opened the back door to find the inside empty.
Taking the map, baseball bat and the tyre iron I found tucked under a panel at the rear, we left the safety of the car and walked along the road.
“Ten minutes,” Cassie said, her expression bunching as she looked down at my limp.
I was glad she couldn't see the pain in my chest or she might have insisted she go for help alone.
Ahead, the two cars grew in our view. The sound of an animal moving within the hedge turned us inward. I looked behind and saw the long road stretching away, knowing how perfect this place would be for an ambush; an ideal location for looters to take us at will.
We walked on, boosted by the utter silence until a twig snapped in the hedge-line at our backs. With my hand tight around the cold iron, there was nothing there as I turned.
It took a few moments as we walked again to notice the tall pillars of undergrowth which hadn't been there before; to notice the two tall towers with cold barrels open in our direction.
Only when the deep voice made me jump did I realise the camouflage had worked so well.
“Drop the weapons.”
63
I was sure we'd be dead before my iron clattered to the ground. As the ringing echo of the metal died, the beech of the bat hitting the tarmac with less of a fuss, we still stood upright as my heart felt like it would burst from my chest. I looked down the barrel of the gun as I tried to make out where the dense covering of leaves ended and the person began.
After more than a few moments of frustration and nothing else, other than our joints starting to seize, I wondered if I'd dreamt the whole situation up; if in the terror of the moment I'd missed an issued command.
It wasn't until I heard the rumble of a large engine in the distance and saw grey exhaust smoke pluming high in the air, I knew sure enough a truck would appear around the corner and was taken back to the moment we'd seen the first helicopter.
Could it have been only this morning?
With the rush of elation still fresh, the certainty we'd been saved switched off in an instant as the machine gun had rained down, doing more than breaking our hearts. I wouldn't let myself be tricked this time and pushed away the hope our nightmare would be ending.
Sure enough, only moments later, an olive-drab truck with a heavy fabric rear cover rocked on its suspension around a distant corner.
Rolling into view, it stopped just before it would have to negotiate the gap between the improvised roadblock. The driver stayed put as it ground to a stop and four soldiers in camouflage fatigues bounded from the back, their rifles trained in our direction.
“Hands on your heads,” the lead guy said in a commanding voice.
Like the others, stripes of dark paint ran down his face, his body covered in armour and thin, yellow-tinted glasses ran across his eyes.
When I raised my hands and Cassie did the same, they seemed to relax like they were testing we understood language.
I looked in her direction, raising my eyebrows, hoping she understood the sentiment. They hadn't killed us yet.
They still hadn't ten minutes later. It was only after patting us down and starting to walk to the truck at their command, did they stand back and raise their guns, screaming for me to explain how I'd hurt my leg.
The explanation seemed only to elicit more questions as one of the four stepped away, his gaze fixed on me as he mumbled something into the boom microphone swinging down from his helmet.
Despite my insistence it was by the size ten boot of a looter, they cuffed my hands tight behind my back with the plastic ties before I went any further.
Hoisting me up the back of the truck whilst paying constant attention to my leg, they sat me on the hard metal bench running along the centre. A soldier sitting opposite, his hand on his holstered sidearm.
With Cassie sitting the other end, the heavy fabric folded down to cover our view, light coming only from the dim red torches hanging overhead.
I felt the truck reversing a long way before we turned. They wouldn't talk; were silent to my questions, but I soon went quiet myself, reeling from the realisation we weren't riddled with holes and our throats hadn't been cut.
It was only when we jolted to a stop, the cover lifted and I saw the white letters against the blue sign, I realised we'd arrived where we'd been aiming for all along. St Buryan Hospital.
Squinting to the view, I watched soldiers standing guard around the two-storey building. As I was lowered, I caught more guards at each of the two entrances; groups of four walking around the perimeter, peering out along the road with binoculars, others helping to finish raising giant sheet-metal fences.
Guided side by side, we were escorted by the four soldiers through a set of doors, disinfectant clawing at our nostrils as our slow, uneven footsteps echoed in the long hallway.
We didn't travel far, stopping as commanded at two doors side by side. On each door loomed a handwritten paper sign. MALE. FEMALE.
Ushered to the respective doors, I reared back as they opened from inside. Feeling the pressure of a hand at my back, I glanced to Cassie to see her already looking in my direction with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
I tried my best to reassure her with a thin smile, but I couldn't do the same for myself. Turning back, I saw a man in a white coat stood just inside with a wide grin on his face, beckoning me in with a wave of his hand.
I stepped across the threshold.
The soldiers didn't follow.
64
“We need your help,” I said, almost breathless, the bright white room opening out with each step.
His wide, toothy smile remained fixed, but his beckoning halted as I caught sight of two soldiers standing behind the door. In their hands were yellow Taser stun guns held at forty-five degrees, their arms folded at their fronts. Although they'd drawn me in, they weren't the first thing I'd seen.
I turned back to the dentist chair in the centre of the room, my attention following down the side of the arm to the two sets of clamps hanging down, each fixed with four bold, oversized screws. On the other side stood a tall stainless-steel table with dull metal instruments resting on a green paper cloth.
It was only then I noticed the nurse in dark blue scrubs holding a stainless-steel kidney bowl. Inside rested a long syringe filled with a red liquid.
I felt the ties snipped at my back and my hands swung free around to my front.
White coat guy ushered me towards the chair as the door closed and locked at my back.
“Please take a seat,” he said, the smile still there.
“We need your help, please,” I replied, shaking my head. I squinted in the first artificial light I'd seen for over two days.
He took a step forw
ard. I didn't need to step back to know at least one of the soldiers mirrored his movement, at the same time exposing the Taser’s prongs.
“What is this all about?”
The white coat's sympathetic smile widened.
“We have to be sure. Please, take a seat, sir,” he said, and took another step toward me.
“Is it about my leg?”
His smile widened even further, shaking his head to the two at my back.
“Do you know what's happening outside?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrows, not voicing my reply.
“Yes, of course you do. Then you'll understand why we can't take any chances. We have to check you out. If you prefer, you can just take your clothes off here. Once we're sure, you can be on your way.”
“We came here to get help.”
The white coat raised his eyebrows, at least pretending to be interested.
“It's our friend, Naomi. She's been bitten,” I said, and watched as he turned to the nurse; her eyebrows raised. They shared a look of interest.
“How long ago was this?” he replied.
I had to think for a moment; so much had happened.
“This morning,” I said, trying not to remember the details.
“How many hours?” the nurse added, her voice impatient.
I no longer had any reference of time. I’d never been one to wear a watch and my phone had died long ago.
“A couple of hours, maybe three.”
Their faces sank and I swapped my attention between them, but still he spoke as if going through the motions.
“Did you stop the bleeding?”
I gave a fast nod.
“After how long?” he replied.
I shook my head again and tried to remember. She was bitten out in the hills and we'd dragged her into the cottage as quickly as we could. She was still bleeding when we got her inside, but was she when I had to defend the building? When Andrew and Zoe made it back?
