In The End Box Set | Books 1-3

by Stevens, GJ

  His face turned and I knew I had to make my choice. His jaw hung slack and wide; with no blood he looked like he'd been punched in the face.

  I pushed the gun into my jacket pocket, grateful he didn't lunge as I gripped him around the waist and helped him to the ground.

  The scrape and crunch of wood had stopped, but the engine's roar had not. The mass of branches were too much for the Rover without a running start. The rear doors opened and Cassie jumped to my side, pausing as she stared down at the soldier, weighing the decision I'd made only moments earlier.

  Eventually taking my place, she helped remove his helmet as he squinted through the pain. I ran around to the back of the crashed Land Rover and pulled open the back doors, reeling as I found the space filled only with two camouflage rucksacks. The passenger and his long rifle were gone.

  Pulling the heavy bags by the shoulder straps, I stood back beside the soldier as Cassie knelt. With his helmet on the road, I watched him peer around, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  By the time our Land Rover had given up my plan and backed up, its metal scraping, wood snapping as it withdrew, the chaotic sound was overshadowed as McCole gave a great call and the report of his rifle rattled an assault.

  Everyone’s attention was drawn to the three creatures behind us who continued their chase.

  My reaction was instant and matched Cassie's, grabbing under the guy's arms and dragging the soldier over the sheared end of the tree trunk.

  McCole's rifle stopped and another took over.

  I glanced back to see that by the time the driver's shots were done, McCole was out on the road, kneeling down to reload. The driver ran around his back, performing a well-practiced role.

  We were soon over the long trunk, dragging the soldier despite his fight for us to stop. Doing as he begged, he climbed to his feet with his sidearm out and popped off bullets into the frenzy.

  We ran, not able to watch, not able to hope the two creatures still running wouldn't last long enough to leap into the air and make their deadly attack.

  Still, I twisted around as we raced forward, looking back as a pained scream lit up the air. A curtain of doom fell around with its grating call, knowing when I turned to face forward a monster from our nightmares would block our way.

  I was right and stopped dead in my tracks. Standing on the road was a woman who'd died in her mid-forties, her face still bright with colour, cheeks rouged and lips, I guessed, were the same underneath the blood and sinew dripping from her mouth as it ran down her sweet, daisy-covered white dress, its outlines still visible underneath the dark-scarlet apron.

  Sweeping Cassie behind my back, I fired before the gun came level, my hand waving wild with each recoil. Bullet after bullet veered wide until the click of the empty chamber echoed in the sudden quiet.

  I watched the creature’s skirt billow as she crouched, not pausing as her legs flung her high in our direction.

  71

  I couldn't step back. I couldn't move. It was all I could do to make myself the biggest target possible, covering Cassie as much as I was able whilst hoping she would make the right choice and run.

  High in the air, the creature started its fall. My gaze locked onto its white, unblinking circles, barely hearing the racket of gunfire at my back.

  Instead, I watched the monster jerk with a spasmodic movement, whilst feeling the full force of its cold weight as I crumpled to the tarmac.

  Surprise forced my eyes wide, rushing through me as Cassie's head bared down close to mine. Behind her, clouds built in the sky until McCole’s pained face blocked out the view.

  “Can you get up? We need to go,” her voice said, with an echo I was sure only I heard.

  Standing was easier than I'd expected, the heavy weight gone from my chest leaving only the thick crimson stain running down my face and across my front. I spat to the road and a great wad of clots landed, but I knew it wasn't my own as I tried my best to keep my empty stomach from overflowing.

  Stepping over the body of the woman who once was, I didn't need Cassie's help to keep myself steady, but took the offer so she'd be close.

  McCole ran by our side, his rifle slung over his shoulder beside another heavy-packed rucksack, his face thick with the same frown. In his left hand he held his pistol, his right tucked under his left armpit, but I could still see the growing ring of darkness radiating out and across his camouflaged jacket.

  Urged on by them both and the not-so-distant screams reverberating in the air, I cleared my mind of all but keeping one foot in front of the other.

  McCole went first, his pistol pointed out as we scraped through a gap in the hedge-line, grateful for the wide-open field the other side.

  We ran, then jogged, soon slowing to a walk as the adrenaline cleared and the weight of the packs and our empty stomachs returned.

  With a quick change of direction towards a small copse of trees, we settled at the base of a wide oak and slumped to the ground as the memories of the last few moments bore down.

  The distant screams hadn't repeated since we'd had grass under our feet and I lifted my head while McCole gave a cough, turning to Cassie as we both remembered his hand.

  “Show me,” Cassie said, as we pried off our rucksacks.

  McCole squirmed on his butt and he gingerly pulled his hand from under his armpit, but as the blood cascaded he pushed it back under and bit his teeth together hard; he'd lost his pinkie finger.

  “QuikClot gauze in the med kit,” he said, his mouth barely moving.

  The words of the doctor came back in my head: stop the bleeding quick and he'd have a chance.

  Both Cassie and I turned, upending the bags. Mirroring our motions, we rifled through the Aladdin's caves, pushing aside heavy camo bags, bottles of water, warm clothes and ration packs.

  We found the dark-green first aid kits at the same time, unzipping the waterproof bags in chorus, pulling the long strips of plastic-wrapped material with QuikClot Combat Gauze written in bold red letters.

  Cassie was first to get hers open and I dropped mine as McCole shouted.

  “Just one.”

  I turned and took a hold of his pale wrist, blood running down the stump of his little finger.

  Cassie didn't pause, didn't squirm or turn her nose up at her task. Instead, she scanned the instructions, pushing the gauze down hard and wrapping as his hand went limp; his eyes closing as he passed out.

  Blood reddened the gauze as she wrapped but slowed as each layer added. Sticking the end down, she stood, raising the drooping arm as high as she could.

  I uncurled the fingers of his left hand from the pistol and rested it on the floor beside him as I drew a deep breath, trying to ignore the coppery taste in my mouth. I turned around in all directions, breath slowing with every angle when I saw we were still alone.

  I repacked Cassie's bags, knowing we would have to move at any moment; would have to decide about McCole if any of the scenarios running through my head played out.

  Still turning, I watched the hedge-lines, pausing each moment I caught the wind in a tree. I cleaned my face with an antiseptic cloth, disgusted by the red colour returned with each wipe.

  Using as little water as I could, I rinsed out my mouth and took a great gulp, forcing myself to stop before it had all gone.

  Cassie took the water as I offered and we shared half a Mars Bar which tasted like it was made of pure energy. The glow of sugar rushing through my body came quick and I took my turn to hold McCole's hand high.

  “What now?” Cassie asked, as she scanned the horizon, her face full of dread. We both knew these quiet moments were so far apart, but when they happened they always meant something worse would come when we least expected it.

  “Nothing's changed,” McCole said, sucking air through his teeth as he pulled his hand from mine. “We get the boy back to the FOB. The hospital,” he corrected himself, remembering his audience.

  I nodded and turned to Cassie, shouldering the pack a
s she did the same.

  “But how?” Cassie replied before I had a chance.

  “We get the Land Rover back,” he replied, picking up the rifle as he struggled to his feet.

  I followed his look towards the road and a column of white smoke rising.

  Together we watched as a great explosion tore outward through the hedge, forcing us back as a great plume of black smoke billowed to the air.

  72

  “There goes the PE-4,” McCole said, stepping around his blood soaking into the grass.

  Walking toward the new gap in the hedge, I turned to Cassie as we caught up, my confusion visible as McCole replied without my need to ask.

  “Explosives,” he said, taking a hard swallow. The colour from his skin all but drained, despite the tan. “Prepare for anything.”

  I raised my brow in Cassie's direction.

  McCole winced as he shuffled his shoulders, trying to re-balance his pack.

  “Are you sure you don't want painkillers?” Cassie asked.

  “You don't want me on morphine. I need to stay alert,” he replied, letting his shoulders relax.

  “Have you really not seen those things before?” I said, knowing from his reaction back when it all kicked off, but a sprig of hope lingered it was just from the shock.

  He shook his head, dashing hope for the second time.

  “No,” he replied. “What the hell are they?”

  “I don't know,” I said, looking around. “But they're mean motherfuckers,” I added, and a shiver ran along my spine. “Third time now. We’ve always come off worse. They're so much faster. The others are like sheep, gathering in herds, wandering about, only bothering people when they're seen. They're easy to get away from as long as you're not surprised, but those other things, they were still human once but react so much differently. They're like wild animals. Predators.”

  “Top of the food chain,” McCole replied.

  I nodded.

  “Like two different strains,” Cassie added, not taking her gaze from the horizon.

  McCole turned away, shaking his head.

  “What have you been told?” I asked.

  “Me?” he replied, looking back, closing his eyes for longer than a blink. “I'm a soldier, not a boffin. We know as much as you've guessed already. We should have built the fences so much taller,” he said, shaking his head.

  I raised my eyebrows and turned to Cassie, still looking along the hedge line.

  “You must have been told more,” I replied. “Why is the army really here?”

  McCole turned my way.

  “Take this,” he said, offering out the rifle.

  I paused, looking him in the eye. We both knew he had more to say, but it was clear he wouldn't be telling me any time soon.

  I took the long gun and I laid the pistol in his open palm before he handed it to Cassie.

  “Aim and pull the trigger all the way. Don't point at anything you don't want to be dead,” he said, turning back to check I was listening too.

  As we walked, he continued with instructions, handing over two new magazines for the rifle. Watching as I followed his words, he released the old magazine and pushed thirty new rounds in its place.

  “Same thing,” he finished. “This isn't an action movie. Don't fire from the hip unless it's your last resort.”

  I nodded, feeling the grave weight of the rifle in my hands. Pushing the stock into my shoulder, with my right eye through the sight, I took in the magnified view as I let the gun travel across the horizon.

  “All clear,” I said.

  “Don't believe it,” he replied.

  Soon we were within touching distance of the destroyed hedge, the space between our steps getting less and less as we moved around large shards of misshapen metal and smouldering debris once part of the Land Rover.

  The space where the Land Rover had been was empty, a crater of steaming tarmac in its place. Beside the wide hole we saw the underside of what had been our transport, the Defender flipped on its side and pushed deep into the hedge. It wasn't going anywhere soon.

  Our steps were slow, with McCole taking the lead, covering left with the pistol outstretched.

  I followed at his back, almost touching him, my eye against the sight and body turned to the right. I could hear Cassie just behind us, covering the rear.

  The ground was uneven as we crossed onto what had been the road, with heat rising as debris crushed under my feet.

  “Clear left,” were McCole's words; there was nothing in my scope.

  “Clear right,” I said, but a great animalistic scream obscured the words.

  Instinct alone lowered the gun and pulled the trigger as I screamed at the blackened, skinless face shrieking towards me.

  73

  The hand on my shoulder slowed the barrage of fire, calming my finger on the trigger despite the creature still trying to claw its way up from the floor.

  Cassie had seen what I hadn't; she’d seen it would never succeed. She’d seen there was nothing connected below its hips to stand on, its legs blown clean off in the explosion.

  “All clear,” came Cassie's words, strong and decisive as I pulled in a long breath.

  McCole nodded as he peered around my shoulder, pointing his pistol down the road covered with metal and black stony debris.

  We walked, my legs jelly on the uneven ground, but we could do nothing but fix forward and watch the bend as it turned so slowly with each footstep. All hopes were on what we'd find, praying to a god I didn't believe in that infected souls wouldn't be gathering around our treasured vehicle.

  Several times over, McCole held his gun to the sky and we'd stop to listen, but only hearing his ever-labouring breath, we'd move on, step after step, getting ever closer to the most dangerous part of the journey.

  We soon came to the apex of the corner, our view so short, our odds even shorter.

  We saw nothing new as we stepped through each degree of the corner. The body of the driver flung across the road was missing, as was the creature which had dragged him from the smoke. Only his upturned helmet remained to mark the spot.

  The Land Rover emerging from the hedge-line told us we hadn't made it all up. Relief grew as we saw it all in one piece.

  Our pace increased, but soon slowed as McCole's didn't pick up, his pale right hand hanging by his side. We had to get him off his feet.

  On the road beyond the Land Rover, the body of the first soldier to die was missing too, but the creature who'd ripped him from the truck was not. It lay, half flattened, its flesh ground into the tarmac by the great tyres as the driver had tried in vain to escape.

  The engine still idled as we grew near and I couldn't hold back my speed as I jogged around, holding the rifle at my hip, not looking to McCole to see if he agreed.

  All was clear around the vehicle; along the road too. Slinging the rifle over my shoulder and crunching cubes of glass under my shoes, I pulled open the Land Rover door, sending the stench of burning rubber into the air. The Defender pulled from the hedge with ease and I jumped out, leaving it lined up straight on the road after dumping my rucksack and rifle on the passenger seat.

  Around the rear, I pulled open the door, with no complaint from the metal. The hardy beast barely had a scrape or dent from its ordeal.

  McCole's laboured walk ended as he batted away our attempts to help him into the back. Cassie joined him for fear of his imminent collapse.

  Back in the driver's seat, I willed away a sudden flush of safety and tried to ignore the feeling that for once everything was going right. We had the upper hand, but I knew it would only lead to the next calamity; the next catastrophe to change someone's life forever. With so little left to lose, I could guess who it would be but I wasn't willing to let it happen.

  I shook away the few seconds of thought, having learned my lesson, and I peered down at the dashboard. The fuel gauge showed the tank nearly full, the engine temperature in the centre where it should be. There were no red lights or
amber warning signs telling me the engine would cut out right at the least opportune moment.

  Still, I was ready for the worst to happen and I pushed down the clutch, selected first gear and stalled the engine as I tried to pull away.

  This was it. This was the time. I looked to the hedge, then to the road ahead, turned a full half-circle to my left and repeated to my right, looking to see what would be coming as we sat with the engine dead.

  Nothing came. Nothing was coming. I dipped the clutch and turned the key. The engine started. With a deep breath and a heavy right foot, we rolled forward, letting the speed needle climb.

  McCole coughed in the back while Cassie peered out of the windscreen; we made good time repeating the earlier journey. The only difference was the direction and the clouding sky as it darkened.

  We arrived at the outskirts of the hamlet soon enough and saw the pickup truck still in the middle of the road with its front tyre deflated. The only differences were the missing bodies, only the dark patches on the tarmac remaining.

  I slowed as we passed the house where the old man had stood, nodding to the top floor window as he nodded back, speeding up as he answered the signed question with a shake of his head.

  Adrenaline built but there was nothing I could do to temper my excitement. We'd taken much more time than we'd expected, but we were bringing with us so much more than we could ever have hoped.

  To Zoe, Andrew, Lane, Ellie, Jack and Tish, we were not only bringing food and transport to safety; we brought hope. Hope of a cure. Hope of some version of a happy ending.

  Sadness soon tinged my thoughts. I knew by now Naomi would be gone, or near the end. There was nothing that could be done about her, but we could play our part in saving many more who were not past the same point.

  As we came around the corner, a beam of sunlight broke through the cloud as if lighting our way and shining down on someone coming through our cottage’s open front door; someone coming to greet us.