Dead Days (Book 2): Tess

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Dead Days (Book 2): Tess Page 3

by Hartill, Tom


  “If we have to, yes.”

  “Rhona, that sounds most unwise.” Helen says gently. Rhona scowls at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Helen says in a no-nonsense tone. “You can’t expect Patrick to ride all that way. Where’s your car?”

  “At the station, back the way we came.”

  “I thought as much. Then you’ll have to take mine.”

  Rhona’s eyes widen. “We can’t leave you here without-”

  I have keys to the school minibus, I don’t need the car, and besides, three of you can’t ride a bike.” She smiles at me.

  “We aren’t travelling together-” Rhona begins.

  “You are now.” Helen says firmly. “I know you Rhona, and whatever your plan is you’re still an officer of the law, and the safety of this young woman is as much your responsibility as Patrick’s welfare.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Besides she may be a useful asset if things get worse, maybe even a friend. Get yourselves to Alexandra Palace. If anyone can protect you from what’s going on out there, the military can. We’ll probably have to join you there soon anyway.” She hands me her car keys. “Mine’s the Fiat, the red one just left of the entrance.”

  “Thank you so much.” I say and it’s hard to suppress the urge to give her a hug.

  “That’s quite alright my dear. Did you manage to reach your boyfriend?”

  “No but if he saw the news then maybe he went to Alexandra Palace. My housemate too I hope.”

  “You should send him a text.” Rhona says.

  “I can’t, there’s no signal.”

  “Maybe not now, I guess the networks overloaded or down but if it comes back, even for a minute, the message might go through to him. At least he’ll know where to find you.”

  “You think?”

  She shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

  I type a hurried text to Mike and Cass, telling them I’ve gone to Alexandra Palace. I hesitate before adding ‘I love you’ to the end of the text to Mike, but I put it anyway.

  It’s still true I guess, even if he is an arse.

  “I suppose we should get moving.” I say.

  I notice Patrick is sticking close to his mother, staring wide eyed at me. He must be all of seven years old.

  I smile at him.

  “Hi Patrick, I’m Tess. Is it ok if I ride with you and your mum for a while?”

  Patrick weighs me up for a second then nods.

  “Okay”. He says in a small voice.

  Rhona gently ruffles his hair and gives me a tentative smile. I think I’ve just won some brownie points.

  We cross the car park as quickly as we can, Helen waves us off from the entrance.

  “Will they be ok?” I ask.

  “Helen’s smart, and she’s capable. She won’t let anything happen to them.” Rhona replies.

  I hope she’s right.

  We climb into the tiny fiat, Patrick belted into the back. I offer to drive but Rhona shakes her head. I wish I could do more to help, I don’t want to be her burden.

  Our progress is slow, most of the area is side streets and residences and several times cars zip past us, heedless of the speed limit. The last thing we need is a crash that would leave us stranded or injured or both and I’m grateful for Rhona’s caution.

  “Oh Christ.” She says, looking at the dashboard.

  “What is it?”

  “Helen didn’t fill up the car. Pretty soon we’ll be running on fumes.”

  “Do you want to stop for fuel? We probably have enough to get to Alexandra Palace?”

  “No offence, but I don’t want to put all our eggs in that particular basket. I’ve seen the mess we made trying to contain this thing, I don’t know how much more luck the Army’s going to have. We may have to leave in a hurry, and I know I’d feel a lot better about that if the car had a full tank.”

  “Ok.”

  She’s right. Besides, in a few hours there might not be anywhere left where we can get fuel.

  It isn’t long before we’re pulling onto the forecourt of a Shell garage. A man in front of us finishes filling up his tank as we arrive. He looks at us for a moment before climbing into his car and driving away, making no attempt to pay for his fuel. There doesn’t look to be anyone in the garage shop.

  My stomach growls, I haven’t eaten much at all and I should probably get something.

  “I’m going to get some food, do you want anything?”

  Rhona considers. “Maybe get some bottled water, and some sandwiches or something?”

  “Ok.”

  I decide that I’ll probably get some sweets for Patrick as well, he might like that. He’s been pretty quiet, I’m guessing he knows that things aren’t exactly normal.

  I open the shop door carefully and step inside.

  “Hello?”

  No answer.

  I walk to the rear of the shop, its small enough that I can still see Rhona at the pump outside. I gather up a few items, sandwiches, four water bottles, the bag of sweets for Patrick. I tote them over to the counter, more out of habit than anything else.

  “Is anyone here?”

  Still no answer.

  Rhona looks to me through the window and I shrug. She waves at me to hurry up. I see some carrier bags behind the counter and I reach over and grab one, putting the supplies –not shopping anymore, supplies- into it as quickly as I can. As I go to leave another car pulls onto the forecourt.

  A police car.

  Shit. They must have seen Rhona’s uniform. The police car is streaked with what looks like mud-

  That’s not mud.

  Christ is that blood? How many people did that officer run down on his way here? One? Two? A dozen? How many of those things are out there now? The car’s front grill is cracked and pouring steam.

  I watch from inside the shop as a man steps out of the car. He is tall, just over six feet if I had to guess, with a receding hairline and a narrow face. He is pale, and as he walks forward he seems to be weaving a little. He starts talking to Rhona, a pistol dangling from his right hand. I slowly open the door. He turns to me.

  “Who’s that?” He says, pointing.

  “She’s a friend Ken, I’m doing her a favour.” Rhona’s hand has drifted near to her own gun.

  Something bad is about to happen.

  “What so you just took off is that it?” Ken says, his voice angry and disbelieving.

  I notice that he is bleeding from high up on his right arm, it leaks steadily from under his shirt sleeve and down to his elbow.

  I’m pretty sure Rhona has seen it too.

  “Yes I took off, to get Pat. He’s my priority.”

  Ken’s eyes flash to the back seat. He looks momentarily unsure.

  “Andy’s dead, did you know that? We were right outside King’s Cross, half a dozen of those fuckers just tore him apart.”

  “Ken I’m sorry-”

  “I mean that literally by the way, they tore him to fucking pieces!” Ken’s voice is rising, almost hysterically, it starts to frighten me.

  “I know Ken.” Rhona’s voice is low and calm. “I know. That’s exactly why we have to leave, we can’t contain this, it’s a lost cause.”

  “Yeah, too fucking right.” He looks back at his car. “That thing’s knackered, I’ll have to come with you.”

  Oh no.

  “You can’t come with us Ken.” Rhona says in a low voice. Her hand drifts onto the butt of her pistol.

  “What?” He lets out a shaky laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I can’t have you around Pat. It’s not safe.”

  “Not-? You know me Rhona, for fuck’s sake. I’m not dangerous to Pat or anyone else-”

  “Not yet maybe, but you will be.” She nods at his injured arm.

  He looks confused for a second, then his eyes widen. “What, this? That’s nothing, I wasn’t even bitten, it’s not- I’m not gonna turn into one of them!” Rhona doesn’t move, she is tracking the gun in hi
s hand. As he follows her gaze he realises what she’s looking at and drops his pistol to the floor.

  “There, happy? Look it’s me for God’s sake!”

  “Get out of here Ken.” Rhona releases the strap holding her pistol in place.

  “What? I give up my gun and you’re gonna fucking shoot me is that it?”

  “Ken don’t make me-”

  He leans his head back and roars laughter.

  “Oh that’s good, ‘make you’? I just wanted a little help, some show of fucking solidarity before I-” Suddenly he lunges forward, smashing Rhona into the Fiat. His forearm is on her throat, and he puts his free hand on top of hers, stopping her drawing her own gun.

  “Mummy!” Patrick screams from inside the car, Rhona’s face turning a hectic purple.

  I drop the bag and run towards him. If I don’t stop him, he’ll kill Rhona, after that he’ll kill me and Patrick too.

  I grab his arm and pull, it’s as immovable as an iron bar and slick with sweat. He flings me off easily, Christ he’s strong, but it gives Rhona an opening. She launches her head forward smashing it into Ken’s nose. He reels back with a startled grunt and Rhona draws her own gun belting him across the face and opening a nasty gash on his cheek. As he goes down she kicks him hard in the ribs.

  “You fugging bitch you broke my fugging nose!” He yells thickly, blood pouring down his chin.

  I pull myself up, I’ll definitely have a wicked bruise on my backside, but I think I just saved us. As I sit up my hand touches something metallic.

  “Get up you piece of shit.” Rhona says hoarsely. Her breathing is a little laboured she has the gun on him but she can’t keep it steady.

  Shit, she’s going to pass out.

  Ken has seen this too and he starts to grin. He feigns a move to his left, Rhona tracks him, too slow, and fires a shot as he moves back to the right. The report is loud as the bullet thumps into the door of the police car, and before she can fire again Ken traps her arm under his and swings a huge fist straight into her face. She turns her head at the last instant and takes the blow on the cheek rather than the nose, but as it connects, she goes limp against the car.

  I stop thinking.

  My hand brings up the metallic object, Ken’s own gun, and I pull the trigger. I have no idea if it’s loaded or if the safety is on.

  I’m not ready for the recoil, and instead of taking him in the body, where I was aiming, the bullet hits Ken in the throat.

  He jerks away from Rhona, looking at me with wide disbelieving eyes. His hand is clamped over the wound, but I see blood pumping steadily though his fingers. He starts to stagger towards me.

  I pull the trigger three more times.

  I’m close enough that the first two bullets hit him in the chest. The third pull on the trigger produces nothing but a dry ‘click’.

  The gun is empty, but two bullets are enough. Ken lands on his back, his hand falling away from his throat.

  Oh God what have I done?

  Rhona groans and pulls herself upright. She sees Ken lying on the ground, and me, the pistol still smoking in my hand. She walks over to me a little drunkenly, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “Let it go Tess…..Come on you can put it down….”

  My body starts to shake, I feel tears on my cheeks and for a moment the whole world goes grey and I think I’m going to faint. Rhona grabs my chin and turns my face towards her. Her cheek is already swelling and her mouth is bleeding, but her eyes are clear again.

  “You cannot go to pieces on me right now. We have to move.”

  “I k-killed him-”

  “Yes you killed him. You also saved our lives. Now get up.”

  She pulls me upright. My legs are still shaky but I don’t think I’m going to faint.

  “Get the food.”

  I do as I’m told as she goes to check on Pat.

  I climb back into the car as Rhona gets into the drivers seat. She turns to me.

  “You did what you had to. He was infected and he lost it. He’d have killed me, and you, and Patrick. He might have regretted it later, but we’d be just as dead. If we’re going to survive this, we’re both going to have to get a lot tougher very quickly, do you understand?”

  I nod.

  God I feel like I could throw up.

  Rhona starts the car.

  “Mum-”

  “Hang on a second Pat-”

  “Mum, the man!”

  There is a resounding crack against the passenger window.

  How the fuck, I shot him three times!

  But whatever was left of Ken is long gone. He’s changed, his mouth opens and closes convulsively as if he’s trying to bite the glass, his fists are beating against it, spattering his own blood across the window. His cloudy eyes are locked on Patrick who is frozen in complete, all encompassing terror.

  Rhona slams her foot onto the accelerator and Ken stumbles as the car pulls away. I see him stagger after us in the rear-view mirror and I shudder.

  But he was dead, I know he was. Even if he survived there’s no way he could of-

  “It’s ok Pat, it’s ok, don’t cry, the bad man’s gone it’s ok-” Rhona is saying, as Patrick is huddled into the car door, his face buried in his hands, whimpering softly.

  “Can you drive?” Rhona asks me? Her eye is now nearly swollen shut.

  “Yes I think so. You’ll have to direct me though.”

  Rhona get’s into the back with Patrick, cradling him in her arms as I shift into the driver’s seat. I haven’t driven for a while (I sold my car a while ago) and I nearly stall the bloody thing, but then my body seems to remember what to do, and we pull away steadily.

  I can hear Rhona whispering soothingly to Patrick and I feel a pang of Jealousy. They have each other, I’m the outsider here. I think about Mike, wondering if he’s at home or whether he went out to look for me.

  I hope to God he’s alright. I don’t want the last words I said to him to be the last words I’ll ever say to him. I reach into my bag and glance at my phone. I keep one eye on the road as I open my sent messages.

  The text to Mike reads ‘SENT’!

  I feel a little flutter of hope. Maybe he got it? Maybe he’ll be at Alexandra Palace waiting for us? Maybe I’ll be able to call my parents from there, with like a satellite phone or something? The Army must have facility for that kind of thing surely?

  I look in the mirror at the two in the back of the car and Rhona gives me the ‘OK’ symbol with her fingers. I give her a thumbs up and keep driving.

  I start to think we might just be alright.

  NEXT

  PART 3; CASS

 

 

 


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