by Jacob Rayne
‘Well said,’ Lennon said.
‘So, for one night let’s embrace our sadness and despair. The future starts tomorrow, let’s remember the past now.’
The rest of the room clapped and cheered this impromptu speech.
Duggan dressed in fresh clothes from the prison stores. Warden raided the kitchen and found a few bottles of champagne which were intended for the New Year’s Eve staff party. They opened these and Duggan managed to find a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of bourbon.
He went up to the roof and took in the scene through a pair of binoculars. Flames rose from the buildings on all four sides of the island. Faint sounds of screams and sirens came from all around.
The air was thick with smoke.
Duggan took a swig of his bourbon. He closed his eyes and thought of all those lost to the insidious reptilian invaders. He stood in silent thought for a few minutes, tears streaming down his face.
Then he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and took his own advice and contemplated the future. He thought of all the positive things about their situation. They were safe, fed, clothed, and had company.
The people he cared about – Hennessee, Mark and Abbott – were all still breathing, as was he.
Yeah, the situation could be a shitload worse.
A smile on his scarred face, Jim Duggan took a swig of bourbon, lit up a cigarette, and watched the city burn.
Abbott was suspicious of the eerie quiet which surrounded the tunnels around the shelter where he had killed Adam Jeffries.
This feeling grew when they reached the shelter and found the door standing ajar.
Abbott let out a deep breath and raised his magnum.
‘Mark? Sadie? You in there?’
Silence greeted his cry.
He edged the door open a little, having to put his shoulder against the heavy stone door just to get it moving. The sound of it opening seemed thunderous in the silence of the shelter.
‘Anyone in here?’ he called out, his skin crawling at the darkness and the potential terror it masked.
He moved in, the gun a reassuring weight in his hand.
A figure was curled up in the corner. He saw matted dark hair. Pale flesh.
‘Sadie?’ he muttered, moving over to her.
He scoured the whole shelter, seeing nothing out of place. There was no sign of Mark.
‘Sadie?’ he asked, shaking her awake.
Her eyes were wide and staring.
‘It’s me, Captain Abbott,’ he said in his most reassuring tone. ‘Am I glad to see you.’ He hugged her hard enough to drive the air from her lungs.
She smiled at him, hugged him back.
‘Where’s Mark?’ he asked, frantic. ‘Did you manage to perform the transfusion?’
‘Gone,’ she replied, drowsy from being woken.
He nodded. ‘Where?’
‘Gone,’ she repeated, shrugging her shoulders.
‘Ah shit,’ Abbott said. ‘Well, we’ll bed down here for tonight, I’m fucking beat. Let’s get that door shut though, it’s a fucking liability. We’ll figure all of this out after a good night’s sleep.’
‘I’m so ready for this,’ Brad said, crawling into one of the sleeping bags that was laid out on the stone floor. Although the ground was hard and cold it was as welcoming as Egyptian cotton on a four poster bed.
‘Well, sweet dreams,’ Abbott said.
‘Night,’ Sadie smiled, her fingers slowly rubbing the bulge on the back of her head that had already begun to pulse with violent energy.
About Jacob
Repeated viewings of The Shining as a child have left Jacob with a love of the dark and the disturbing that really comes to life in his writing.
He works to a soundtrack of blisteringly heavy music, and, like his beloved metal, his writing is brutal, uncompromising and intense.
You can find Jacob on Facebook (Jacob Rayne)
Twitter (@jacob_rayne)
Website: www.rayneofterror1.com
E-mail [email protected]
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