by Lauren Algeo
Brewer shrugged. ‘Whatever you want. You’ll need some money too. I’ve got a bit but I can’t afford to pay for both of us.’
‘I’ve got a little bit saved up.’ Mitch looked apprehensive. ‘It was supposed to be for renting my own place but I guess I could use that.’
‘There’s no pressure. It’s entirely your decision.’
Mitch chewed his lip for a few more moments then picked up his glass and downed the contents. He slammed it back down on the table and his mouth broke into a grin.
‘I’m in!’
Chapter 6
Brewer shook his head as Mitch came out of the building – the kid had way too much stuff. He was weighed down with a heavy rucksack and carrying another holdall bag, along with a rolled up sleeping bag.
Mitch stopped in front of him. ‘I’m all set.’
‘Nope.’ Brewer gestured to the extra bags in Mitch’s hands. ‘Lose those. You can’t be lugging all that around every day.’ He pointed to his own modest pack. ‘Only bring the basics.’
He expected a fight but Mitch simply shrugged. ‘Fine,’ he grumbled and trudged back into his building.
Apparently their flat was on the third floor. So far Brewer had only seen one other person go inside. It had been a small, black woman with dyed purple hair, who’d been carrying bulging plastic shopping bags. Brewer didn’t like the area much and waiting on the street made him feel nervous. Nicetown wasn’t a very nice place. He leant against the wall and felt the hard, uneven brick dig into his shoulder blades.
He didn’t want to spend another minute in this city. Trying to sleep last night in a new motel had been pointless. He’d lain awake imagining he could hear the Grand’s voice in his mind, coming for him. Thankfully the alcohol had numbed him enough so that when he did eventually sleep, he didn’t dream. He’d been back at Mitch’s by 8am, ready to leave.
Mitch was quick and emerged ten minutes later with only his rucksack. ‘Better?’
‘Much.’ They set off in the direction of the subway.
‘I called work and told them I had to go out of town for a family emergency,’ Mitch said as they walked. ‘No one asks questions when you say that. My mum’s already gone to work so I’ve left a note to say I’m going to cover a store in another town for a couple of weeks. I’ll call her later to check in but it should work. Hopefully no one speaks to each other and finds out I’ve lied. That would be an awkward conversation!’
They walked a few feet in silence before Mitch started talking again.
‘I’ve got some cash on me and I’ve got my card to get the rest from the bank. How much do I need?’
Brewer shrugged.
‘You’re right,’ Mitch said, as though Brewer had given an actual reply. ‘We’ll see how we go. I can always get more out if I need to.’
They reached the entrance to the subway station and Mitch looked expectantly at Brewer. ‘So, where are we going?’
Brewer pulled out a detailed map of North America from his pack. He’d picked it up at the airport but hadn’t really looked at it yet. He opened it up and scanned the states.
‘We should stick to the East coast for now,’ he said. ‘We know there’s hiker activity here, we just don’t want to be where the Grand is.’
‘What about New York, New York?’ Mitch grinned.
Brewer shook his head. ‘No, that’s way too populated. It would be impossible to tell what destruction hikers were causing amongst all the usual murders and suicides. Besides, it would be too expensive to stay there for long. We need a smaller city or town.’
He pondered the map. They were close to New Jersey and Connecticut. Alternatively, they could find a little town in the New York state. They could travel down to Washington DC or keep going up to Massachusetts, then all the way to Maine. There were too many options and this was just the East coast. The prospect of hikers across the whole country was too daunting and made his head hurt.
‘Connecticut,’ he said finally. ‘We can travel across the state checking towns, starting with…’ He waved his finger over the map and put it down on a random name. ‘New Haven. We can start at the coast and work our way inland.’
It wasn’t too far to travel from where they were now and there looked to be plenty of towns. There were outlines of numerous counties on his map.
‘I’ll go sort the tickets,’ Mitch said. ‘Can I borrow your card?’
Brewer sighed and handed him his wallet, so much for paying his own way. Mitch walked off in the direction of the ticket office and Brewer rubbed tiredly at his temples. This was going to be a logistical nightmare. He had less than three months over here and there were way too many places for hikers to be hiding. They’d have to come up with a solid plan. Right now, as long as they were away from the Grand, he didn’t care. Finding another hiker and getting hold of a virus to kill it with was secondary.
Mitch came back five minutes later waving tickets. ‘Got us a route,’ he said. ‘We need to take the Broad Street line downtown then cross over to 30th Street Station on the Regional. From there we can get the Northeast Regional train straight across the states to New Haven. Once we’re in Connecticut we can use the CT Transit to travel around, it’ll be much cheaper than these train tickets!’
Brewer looked blankly back. Half of what he’d just heard sounded like nonsense. He’d have to let Mitch lead the way.
‘What’s a CT Transit?’ he asked.
‘Connecticut Transit.’ Mitch rolled his eyes. ‘It’s a bus. There’s a New Haven service we can take. They go to loads of different towns in the state.’
‘I see,’ Brewer nodded. ‘Is that like the Greyhound buses?’
‘I guess.’
They had ten minutes before the train so they grabbed a drink in the station. Brewer had a coffee and Mitch got a can of coke and some crisps. He seemed overly excited and wouldn’t stop talking.
‘This is going to be awesome!’ he said. ‘Our own crazy adventure, like a movie. I’ve never lived on the road before, travelling around and staying in a different motel every night. I can’t wait to blog about this!’
Brewer was far less enthusiastic. ‘It’ll get old very quickly,’ he warned. ‘There could be days, weeks even, where we don’t find a hiker.’
Nothing seemed to dampen Mitch’s spirit. By the time they were seated on the train, Brewer was sick of his constant jabbering.
‘Look, Mitch. I know this is all new and exciting for you but what we’re undertaking here is serious. You need to be prepared for disappointment, for shock, for your life being put in danger.’
Mitch’s shining eyes told him he couldn’t wait to experience that. Brewer gave up and took out his laptop. It was time they constructed some sort of plan.
‘Have you ever been to Connecticut before?’ he asked.
‘Once, when I was little, I don’t remember much about it though,’ Mitch said. ‘We went to the beach for the weekend but it sucked because I can’t swim.’
Brewer Googled New Haven and tried to get a feel for the area. He studied maps and read up on the town. There were so many names in the surrounding areas that reminded him of home: Guildford, Essex, Richmond. There was even a Glastonbury. Reading them made him a little homesick. Being alone in his empty, familiar flat had never seemed so appealing. Still, he had Mitch with him now so he might as well get used to it. They had several hours of travelling time together ahead.
Brewer closed the laptop and leaned forward in the seat. They were sitting opposite each other in a four-seat section with their bags taking up the other two spaces. The train was fairly quiet, being after rush hour, but it would get busier again later in the day.
Mitch had been staring absentmindedly out of the window. He glanced at Brewer and realised it was time for a talk. ‘You’ve got that serious expression again.’
‘This is important and I’m only going to go through it once, so pay attention,’ Brewer said.
Mitch sat up straighter in the seat and folded his ar
ms. A pose that was more defensive, rather than implying ‘active listening’, but it would do.
It was Brewer’s turn to do all the talking. He took a deep breath and began. He’d told Mitch quite a few of his experiences and theories in the pub the other day, only this time he told him everything. He started at the beginning, with his own encounter, and covered everything up until two days ago when he’d gone to the diner to meet Mitch. He took his notebook out of his bag and let Mitch read through some of the entries. The jumbled ideas and research was the closest thing he had to a journal.
For once, Mitch didn’t interrupt him. He listened quietly and asked a couple of questions to show he was paying attention. Brewer continued speaking while they changed trains to take the Regional to 30th Street Station and they were nearly there by the time he’d finished. His mouth was bone dry.
‘There you have it,’ he said, sitting back exhausted. ‘You now know exactly what I know and every single thing I’ve experienced.’
Mitch whistled softly. ‘You’ve been through a lot, man. Seen so many of them…’ He paused to gather his thoughts. ‘I’m very sorry for your losses. And about what I said the other day. I crossed the line bringing your wife into it. I hadn’t meant to offend you, or her memory.’
Brewer was surprised by the genuine words. ‘It’s ok,’ he said gruffly.
They sat in silence for the next five minutes until the train pulled in at 30th Street. There was a quick change then they sat down on an almost identical train heading to New Haven.
‘We’ve got over three hours on this one,’ Mitch said. ‘Hopefully there’s some food somewhere, I’m starving!’
Brewer hadn’t felt hungry since hearing about the Grand. Dinner last night had been a bag of crisps and a few beers. He’d only had coffee so far today. He felt drained of energy but he doubted sleep would come easily tonight either. Travelling away from Philadelphia was helping but he still knew he was out there. When the time came to face him again, he had to be ready. He got the laptop back out, along with his notepad and pen.
‘Time to get thinking,’ he said to Mitch. ‘You know American laws and practices far better than me. If we’re going to continue on the virus route Georgie and I started, we’re going to need another tranquiliser gun, some darts and some syringes. Probably a hunting knife to at least slow a hiker down for a moment if we have to.’
Mitch’s eyes were wide with excitement. ‘We’re really going to do this then? I’ll get on it!’
He took the laptop and began looking for gun stores in Connecticut.
‘The viruses themselves are going to be much harder to get.’ Brewer picked up the pen and tried to think of some sort of plan.
He couldn’t risk going around a hospital over here and rabid dogs weren’t a common occurrence. He had to come up with something else. There must be something that was easier to get hold of? His brain wasn’t cooperating; there was a sliver of guilt lodged firmly in his mind.
It had come to him in the dead of last night and he’d been torturing himself with it ever since. There had been vials of rabid saliva and a tranquiliser gun in that house with the Grand. He should have shot his body with one just to make extra sure he stayed dead. It hadn’t even occurred to him at the time, he’d been too overcome with grief and not in a functioning mental state. It wasn’t his fault but that didn’t stop him agonising over it now. Had he blown his one real chance at getting rid of the Grand for good?
Mitch was tapping away enthusiastically at the keyboard and Brewer stared out of the window at the residential scenery rushing by. They were going to cross through New York on this train route – right through a city he’d last seen with Karen, yet he couldn’t have cared less right now. Was this all a huge mistake? He couldn’t train Mitch like he had done with Georgie. If a hiker got inside his head, Mitch would have no idea how to block it out. Could he cope with another lost life on his conscience?
‘I’ve found a couple of places we could use,’ Mitch said. ‘There’s a gun range in West Haven and a hunting store with loads of equipment. Plus,’ he glanced around the empty carriage then slid open the zip of his rucksack. ‘I got me an LTCF and my own gun.’ He grinned proudly as he showed Brewer the barrel of a black handgun.
‘What? Is that a Glock?’ Brewer asked surprised. ‘Why didn’t you say? That’s great news, we can use that to slow a hiker as well as a knife.’
‘Yep, it’s a Glock 9mm. It took me ages to get it. Had to wait ‘til I was twenty-one to even apply for the permit!’
Brewer could think of nothing worse than a load of twenty-one year old cocky kids carrying guns around the streets. He suddenly felt a lot less safe than he had at home. Knife crime was rife in London, and he’d dealt with his fair share of attacks during his time on the force, but thankfully guns were still rare.
‘My dad always had one and I used to carry this one around a lot, but lately it’s just been in my room at home. I saw too much messed up shit…’ Mitch’s voice trailed off and he looked out of the window.
He didn’t finish his sentence and Brewer didn’t push him. He didn’t believe guns ever solved anything, especially not their problem with hikers. He picked up the pen again and tapped it on the blank page in front of him. They could get a tranquiliser gun without a permit; they just couldn’t get the drugs to go with it. His right hand scribbled the word ‘drugs’ onto the page.
Was it possible to make a hiker overdose? Mitch was bound to know where they could get hold of some illegal substances, it just depended how they’d react to it. Could they somehow shoot a hiker full of sleeping medication? Would that work on them, as the viruses had? That would give them time to get close enough to try something else. But what?
He felt as if he was starting from scratch again. There had been plenty of other diseases on the list that he and Georgie had compiled – polio, swine flu – he just had no idea how to get hold of any of them to try it out.
‘I’ve been thinking…’ Mitch started. ‘I once saw a guy get almost decapitated by a sheet of metal in a car wreck. It was horrible, but I don’t remember you saying anything about that. If you cut off a hiker’s head then surely it couldn’t grow another one?’
‘No, it probably couldn’t – they’re not shape-shifters or anything. The problem is getting close enough to one to even try. They could easily get inside your mind and make you chop your own head off instead. That’s why the tranquiliser gun is such a good idea, you can shoot them with something from a distance.’
‘It was just a suggestion,’ Mitch shrugged.
At least he was taking this seriously and actually trying to come up with ideas now.
‘I’ve been toying with the idea of drugs,’ Brewer shared his thoughts. ‘There might be a heavy sedative that could bring one down for a while. Maybe even long enough to try something like beheading.’
‘You could Taser one maybe?’ Mitch said. ‘The voltage of those goes up pretty high!’
That had never crossed Brewer’s mind before. He hadn’t ever seen a Taser in action first hand. He wrote it down alongside ‘drugs’ and ‘sedatives’. There had to be something easy to get hold of. Breaking into places was too risky over here. They could scout around a pharmacy to find any over-the-counter medicines that could be combined to create a fatal dose.
‘We’re here,’ Mitch announced.
Brewer realised the train had been slowing and was now pulling up alongside a busy platform. The signs read New Haven Union station. He could see buildings flanking the station and it looked like every other place he’d seen so far. He quickly packed away the laptop and notepad, and they got off the train.
Brewer stretched his back then hoisted his pack over his shoulder. ‘First stop, the gun store for the tranquiliser gun,’ he said. ‘Then we find a cheap motel room as a base while we explore the town.’
‘Ok, but first I need to find some food,’ Mitch said. ‘My blood sugar must be really low by now.’
Brewer pivoted slowly
to look at him in disbelief. ‘Your blood sugar levels? Are you diabetic?’
‘Yeah,’ Mitch shrugged. ‘Had it ever since I was a kid but I’ve got insulin and stuff so it’s cool. I won’t be fainting on you or nothing!’
Brewer gave a snort of laugher. ‘You mean to tell me, we’ve just been trying to think of ways to get hold of drugs or viruses and you were sitting there with diabetes and a pack full of insulin? You’re unbelievable!’
‘Hey! It’s not my fault. I’ve had it so long I don’t really think about it.’ Mitch gave an apologetic shake of his head. ‘So, where were we starting again?’
‘Gun store, motel,’ Brewer gave a small smirk, ‘then you.’
Chapter 7
Three hours and several bus rides later, Brewer sat down on the edge of a hard motel bed. The room looked almost identical to the ones he’d stayed in before, except this room had two single beds. Mitch plonked himself down on the bed opposite, still cradling the gun case in his arms as if someone might snatch it away at any moment.
It had been surprisingly easy to get hold of the tranquiliser gun. The man in the store had been very helpful and believed their story of them wanting a more humane hunting trip. He seemed like he wanted a quick and easy sale, and had waved away Mitch’s offer of showing his permit. Brewer had picked up a new hunting knife too – a small blade that could be concealed in his coat pocket.
They travelled back from West Haven to New Haven and found a cheap motel on the outskirts of town. It was late afternoon so they could still scout around for a while before calling it a day. Brewer had some questions he wanted to ask before they went anywhere else.
‘So what type of diabetes have you got?’ He didn’t know much about it, just enough to know there was more than one.
‘Type 1,’ Mitch replied.
‘Which is that?’
‘The one where my pancreas can’t produce enough insulin,’ Mitch said. ‘They diagnosed me as a kid. Apparently type 1 is the most common in children but I still felt like a freak at school.’
