by Stevens, GJ
The soldier who handed over the pistol looked in his late twenties. Like the other three, he was well-built, muscled with a thick tree-trunk of a neck and his short mousey blond hair was so much longer at the top, the side of his head shaven.
I paused wringing out my T-shirt when Cassie pushed the toilet door open, only continuing when it closed at their backs and they didn’t come out running to the sound of gunshots. Turning back, I saw the soldiers pulling on dry clothes from the pack.
“Have you got any spare?” I asked, looking on with such a longing. Each shook their heads and I turned away, barely flinching when the first thud came at the front door. Instead, dressing in the cold clothes I’d just finished wringing out, I looked to the soldiers to gauge their reaction.
60
JESSICA
As Cassie and Alex stripped down, the water from their clothes running into the sinks, Alex shook so hard she seemed to be barely able to control herself.
I looked at myself in the mirror. There was so much to think about. Too much to deal with.
They’d all seen what I’d done to save them from the horde. The soldiers had been watching, filming so they could know the next step of their mission. Everyone had watched me switch from being Jessica Carmichael, the woman from the TV, to a hellish creature who could rip limbs from flesh, but had they noticed how I was back to me again? Would they ever see me as just Jess again? Would she?
“Dry off,” Alex said, her voice trembling as she spoke.
I looked up to see both of them barely dressed, but neither of them seemed as if they feared for their lives. Alex reached out with a stack of paper towels shaking in her hand.
Was their trust that I could control myself around them valid?
How could they when I didn’t know myself?
61
LOGAN
Beyond the white blinds, black shapes moved with the muffled thud of flesh against the glass.
Despite the efforts we’d gone to to save their lives, each of the soldiers eyed me with caution, looking back with a weariness each time our gazes met. Although soon dressed, I couldn’t help but shake.
Still with no sign of the women returning, I walked to the window, peering out at the edge of the blind whilst being careful not to touch or move the hanging material.
I could almost smell the stench and the charred flesh of those standing on the other side, but despite all I’d seen, I had to look away for fear of losing the contents of my stomach from this morning.
I looked instead back into the room. The soldiers had dressed in dry kit and were searching through the remains of the rucksack.
The guy closest to me and the one who kept his pistol had deep red lesions running down his face and like the creatures outside, I guessed he must have been at the edge of the explosion. He nodded, and I wondered if the gesture was all the thanks I would be getting.
Each of them had the same weathered look; skin long exposed to the outdoors and harsh conditions of foreign climates throughout their careers.
“What now?” I asked, as I searched around the reception, spotting a large water bottle in the corner. Taking a cup from a stack in the holder, I watched the water slowly dribble in and then downed the contents in one go, returning it under the plastic tap.
“Our mission hasn’t changed. We’re taking Ms Carmichael to her destination.” I turned to Thompson’s voice and then the other two, not able to see any dissent at the instruction.
“Anyone else?” I asked, gesturing to the bottle as the bubbles gurgled through the water to collect at the top.
The soldier nearest to me nodded in reply and I took another cup as I spoke.
“We need to find a vehicle.”
“We have this in hand,” Thompson said. “Kit check you two.”
I handed the nearest soldier the full cup. He nodded, and I turned to get another.
“The water screwed the radios,” he said in a slow, northern accent I couldn’t place. “Otherwise we’re okay. The other bag, too.”
“We’re coming with you,” I said.
The two subordinates looked to Thompson stone-faced as if they hadn’t heard my words. I handed off the full cup to the other soldier, his hair shaven all over. He took the drink with a nod.
As I turned away, looking through the glass I saw the others emerging from the bathroom, each with damp hair and dirty, crumpled clothes. Alex still shivered.
“Has the other woman really had the cure?” Thompson asked, watching as the women approached, turning to me as I nodded.
“Cassie was at death’s door.” I looked away, swallowing hard in hope the rising feeling would dissolve before it showed.
Thompson stayed quiet for a long moment, watching as the women emerged. “I won’t stop you following us, but other than that, no promises,” he said, and then raised his brow to each of his men.
“Gibson. Like the guitar,” he said, pointing to the guy with the lesions down his face. “Sherlock,” he said, pointing to the northerner and the one who we’d pulled from the water not breathing. “Like the detective.”
“Sir,” Sherlock said, with his brow lowered and taking a step towards Thompson. “They’re luggage and will get in the way, or worse.”
“Ha,” I scoffed. “Are you kidding me? We saved your lives.”
Sherlock turned my way, his expression pointed and brow low. He looked as if he was about to take a step my way when Thompson raised his hand and spoke.
“Like I said, I’m not going to stop them following.”
Sherlock looked away, moving to pull out a first aid kit from the rucksack at his feet before leaning to inspect Gibson’s face.
“Upstairs is Carr,” Thompson said.
“I’m Logan. Cassie is the one in the lead and Alex is at the back holding the rucksack.” I turned down to Shadow at my side. “And this is Shadow.”
“Nice dog,” Gibson said in a soft cockney voice, only moving his gaze down to the dog as Sherlock probed his face with his fingertips.
“Where exactly are we heading then?” I asked, stroking Shadow’s damp back.
Each of the soldiers glanced at each other, but no one answered before Cassie pulled open the glass partition door.
“Have you seen the children?” she said, stepping up to Thompson.
Gibson and Sherlock each raised an eyebrow.
“We haven’t seen anything, or anyone,” Thompson replied. “We only know our mission, ma'am.” He turned away, delving through the pack at his feet.
“Where are you taking Jess?” Cassie asked, but Thompson continued to rifle without answering.
“The Isle of Wight,” Jess said, then stepped to Cassie’s side whilst talking to Thompson’s back. “How long have we got?”
“Until what?” Cassie added, turning to face her.
“The letter…” Jess started to say, then stopped herself and turned my way.
“The letter didn’t say anything about the children. Well, not really,” I said, shaking my head.
“You don’t know her,” Jess said, keeping her gaze on me as she spoke with her brow furrowing. “It’s not what she said. It’s more what she didn’t say.”
Thompson turned and held a fist full of energy bars, offering them out to each of the soldiers.
“I don’t understand,” Cassie said, waving away Thompson’s offer of food as her voice rose.
I took an energy bar, as did Alex. Jess shook her head as he held out the food and looked to me with a raised brow.
“Will everyone stop looking at each other and answer some bloody questions,” Cassie said, stepping between Jess. “Is Ellie okay? Do we know where they are?”
“She’s fine as far as we can tell,” I said and Jess cut in.
“For now. I think she’s threatening if I don’t go to her then they won’t stay that way.”
I watched as Cassie’s eyes widened in alarm, but before she could press for more information, we turned up to the stairs and the hurried call from
above, as a great brightness shined through the blinds just before the window imploded.
62
Tasting dust and with a punishing weight on my chest as I lay with my back to the floor, I couldn’t see through the curtain of debris raining all around. Everything seemed still, until I felt a stirring at my side and I looked up from the floor to see a cascade of shadows moving everywhere. The sight forced back the memory of the charred, burnt creatures on the other side of the window which had just exploded.
To my relief, the weight fell to my side. Batting my eyelids in an attempt to clear the dust, I saw Alex in the sudden bright light staring at me as if she’d just woken.
Coughing up the thick air I took with each breath, I watched movement which seemed to be all around. Feet on the carpet, shadows on the walls and against the strewn glass and debris across the floor.
Then a call. Thompson’s booming voice with his outline silhouetted by a pair of headlights where the glass wall had once been, bringing with it the memory of Carr’s call from above and the roar of an engine as the wall burst in.
Turning around and looking up, I followed the sound of a deep voice and saw Carr pointing.
“Get in the fucking vehicle.”
Only when I twisted back around did my brain make the connection that a minivan had smashed through the plate glass window and part of the wall, stopping with its front half in the building and only a few footsteps away from where I’d been standing.
Reaching out, I grabbed at Alex’s shirt, twisting her around to see the minivan through the dust catching in the headlights as it rained down.
Glancing up past the battered front end of the minivan, the grill lay to the floor covered in dust and crushed brick. Peering around a long crack in the windscreen, I rubbed my eyes at the sight of a soldier in the driver’s seat, furiously blinking, his hand raised, beckoning us from our daze.
Feeling a strong pull under my armpits, I stood, barely getting to my feet before whoever had picked me up launched me forward.
Staggering as I slowed, I stopped at the side door of the van in a daze, then froze to the spot when I looked along the side of the van to a dark inhuman figure at the gap where the last of the jagged wall remained.
A gunshot exploded at my back, then another, sending the dark figure backward and to the ground. To my left, Cassie stood with a smoking pistol pointed to where the figure had been. Sliding the battered side door open, I stumbled from air thick with dust into a haze of white powder, only just able to find the middle row of seats in the minivan as Alex landed beside me.
To the sound of gunshots from the soldiers shocking the air around us as more creatures took the place of those who fell, I watched the driver tear the white cloth of what remained of the airbag from the wheel.
Shadow jumped from the mess to squeeze in the space between the seats at my feet, then Jess bounded beside me. Round after round continued to slam against flesh as Cassie dragged herself to the rear row, followed by Gibson and Sherlock with the fire rate slowing.
Feeling relief as the gunfire stopped, I watched Carr slide in the front passenger door, pressing up beside the driver as Jess pulled the metal side door closed.
Thompson bundled in the front, throwing the heavy packs over the seats just as his ass hit the upholstery.
“Seat belts,” I shouted, my mind flashing back to our recent success with vehicles.
I pulled on my belt as the remaining crowd slapped and clawed at the rear windows, moving to the sides as bodies filled the gap between us and the wall. With the engine revving high, we shot backwards, metal screeching against the brick as the wheels bounced over the figures knocked to the ground.
Out from the building, the sun poured in and we swung in a turn. Blood and mushy flesh sprayed out as a head burst, crushed between the van and the building in the right-angled turn just as clutter rushed from right to left across the dashboard, sending dog-eared catalogues, Styrofoam cups and a long-handled screwdriver from one side to the other. Braking hard, the van jolted, sending the screwdriver from the dashboard, caught by Carr and he’d thrown it back as all eyes darted across the view to look for the next threat.
“Where the fuck did you get this shit tip from?” Carr shouted, his booming voice turning to laughter. The driver gave a weak laugh as Carr turned the heating up to maximum.
Building our speed and with the air blowing hard and warm from the vents, we were soon going too fast for any remaining creatures to catch up.
I breathed a sigh of relief that none of the other kind survived the helicopter crash, despite the sounds we’d already heard.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked in the lull, as the shivering returned with the adrenaline fading. There was a moment when no one said a word, but soon the replies came, one by one, that there had been nothing more than a few cuts and bruises.
The van slowed as we entered a pedestrian lane between a long line of houses, but I recognised the lull that always came after the action and, despite our escape, I couldn’t truly relax, waiting for the next jolt back to chaos, unable to stop searching out the next crisis in every point in the narrow space between the buildings as we passed.
Catching the sour odour of a dressing not changed in a long while, I took my first look at the driver. Despite his all-weather tan, my eyes were wide as I focused on his washed-out hue and the clammy sheen covering his neck.
With Thompson sitting in front of me in the passenger seat only looking up from a map to issue a command, left or right, trying to guide us out of the pedestrian maze, he hadn’t once glanced to the driver.
I turned to Jess at my side and she nodded. She’d seen him, too. So had Alex.
“Nice one for finding us,” Carr said. “But did you really have to smash through the wall?”
The driver let out a weak laugh.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” His voice came out quiet and strained. “I hit a few of the fuckers as I drove in and couldn’t stop in time.”
“Thompson,” I said, but he dismissed me with a shake of his head, keeping his concentration down to the map with his brow furrowed.
I turned around, pushing my back to the side door to get a better look across the inside of the minivan. Gibson held his pistol out, peering through the rear windows while Sherlock looked across the view with his rifle out of sight.
“Thompson,” I said, louder this time.
He ignored my call, but Carr in the middle seat didn’t. As he looked my way, I nodded toward the driver.
Carr followed my gaze, both of us watching as the driver’s head dipped forward for a moment as if he were falling asleep.
Carr’s face lost all its cheer as his gaze dropped to the soldier’s leg, focusing on what I couldn’t see.
“Shit,” Carr said and turned to Thompson, glaring in his direction. “Sir,” he said, his tone sharp.
Everyone’s attention snapped to Carr. Even the driver.
Carr leaned back in his seat to give Thompson the best view possible across his front.
“Shit,” Thompson replied, after looking the driver up and down. “How much time have we got?”
When no one replied, Thompson turned back to look ahead to where the path we were on seemed to end, but as the distance shortened, we soon saw a choice of a sharp turn left or right.
“Which way?” the driver asked, his voice lacklustre and dry.
I watched as he leaned forward with a pained expression, peering at Thompson as we slowed. When no one answered the second question, he looked to Carr who stared forward, then over his shoulder, locking eyes with me.
“Which way?”
With just the sound of the engine ticking over and my body shaking despite the rising temperature, I felt Shadow’s panting in the footwell with steam forming on the inside of the windows obscuring the walls either side.
“Left,” I said.
Slowly nodding, the driver pushed the selector back into gear and we edged forward.
Halfway through th
e slow turn, Thompson moved, rushing his pistol to the air, across Carr to point at the driver’s chest.
Surprised when the driver didn’t flinch, it was as if he hadn’t seen the movement, but as he straightened up from the turn and the narrow alley stretching out ahead, he looked down the barrel of the gun.
“What?” he said. With the van rolling slowly forward, he glanced to his leg. “Oh, that.” Screwing up his face, he looked back up to the road and our speed built.
Looking paler than ever, he spoke again. “It’s not a bite. It’s not, and I feel fine. Which way now?”
A silence filled the space as each of us looked between the driver and the narrowing lane ahead, littered with rubbish bins and scattered with what they had once contained. Blood on the walls drew my attention, but Thompson didn’t let his view of the driver falter.
Only when we slowed to a stop did Thompson chance a look ahead, just as a Sherlock spoke from the back.
“Contact. Six o’clock.”
63
Heads turned in the back seats, each of us squinting out through the moisture on the windows as Sherlock and Gibson continued to run their sleeves over the glass to clear the view.
“Which way?” the driver called, but Thompson kept the gun and his heavy-lidded glare fixed on him as he pushed the map over the back of the seat and to my lap.
“Get us out of this maze,” he said.
“Right,” I bellowed after turning the map up the correct way. We moved off again.
“Boss,” came the low northern call from behind me, but looking to the smeared windows, they gave only a hint of movement beyond.
“How you feeling?” Thompson called out.
“You’re okay, aren’t you?” Carr added in a higher voice.
The driver gave an energetic nod, and I watched the sweat running down his neck as the steering wheel slipped from his hands with debris hitting the tyre, but he snatched back control, catching the wheel in time to avoid the wall. “I’m okay,” he said, his voice breathy. “It’s not a bite.”
