The End Tide (Carrion Virus Book 3)

by M. W. Duncan

  Eric pulled her away. His eyes looked left and right and over her shoulder. “Come with me.”

  “Why? Eric—”

  “Gemma, not here.”

  She looked behind, but no one seemed interested in their presence or their departure. What was he hiding from?

  A dog trotted at his heels.

  “Your dog?”

  “Skye. And yes, I suppose she is mine.”

  “Here, Skye.”

  The dog padded over to her, its tail wagging, and accepted a scratch on its head.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Away from ears.”

  They walked to the edge of the forest at the camp boundary. Eric turned, his eyes searching for company. Gemma checked, too. No one. The wind bit at her nose. She wrapped her arms across her body.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To get you home. Williamson sent me.”

  Skye sniffed at the air, decided it was too cold and plodded off back to the tents and campfires.

  Eric frowned and grinned. “You do remember asking to be rescued?”

  “Yes, of course I do. It’s just been a time since then, and, well I thought they forgot about me.”

  “Nothing happens quickly anymore, Gemma.”

  “Yeah, so I’m learning. How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t. The aircraft I was travelling in went down.”

  “What?” She looked him up and down expecting to find signs of an air crash survivor. But what did she expect to find? “You’re okay?”

  “Yes. An older couple found me and took me in. An infected turned up at their home.”

  “They’re dead?”

  “They’re dead.”

  “And that’s where you got Skye?”

  Eric nodded. A blackbird landed on a branch above their heads, and dislodged some snow. It slapped on Gemma’s head.

  She looked up and laughed. “Good shot,” she said to the bird.

  Eric released a tired smile. “Your laughter is a pleasure to hear.”

  “Yeah, not much of it around here.”

  “No. But how did you end up here? I was told to find you at the hospital.”

  “I didn’t think anyone was coming, so I left the hospital, got lost, found an empty house and a map directing me here.”

  “I’ve not seen you around the camp.”

  “I’ve been out on patrol. They’re trying to set up an outpost fifteen miles from here.”

  “You volunteered?”

  “You’re surprised?”

  “No. No, Gemma. I’m not surprised at all.”

  “I was with soldiers. They kept me safe.”

  “What do you make of Alex Cunningham?”

  “Alex? From what I can gather, he’s a decent man in an impossible situation.”

  “And Major Reid?”

  “I’ve barely spoken to him. Why?”

  “Did they ask you about The Owls of Athena?” Eric almost whispered the group’s name like it was a curse.

  “No. I’ve heard the name, but no, I haven’t been asked. They don’t look at me as very important. Who are The Owls of … whatever their name is?”

  “The Owls of Athena. Perhaps best you don’t know.”

  “Eric!”

  “Trust me, Gemma.”

  Gemma shrugged in resignation. “I have no choice, do I?”

  “No. And don’t volunteer any information, not until I get a handle on the situation.”

  “But nothing here strikes me as off. These people, they’re trying to help, trying to foster hope and preserve something of what we’ve lost. There’s goodness here. I’ve seen it.”

  The blackbird launched itself from its perch and flew away.

  “Can we head back? I’ll freeze if I stand still any longer.”

  They started back the way they came, Gemma slipping her arm beneath Eric’s. She was going to be fine. Eric would get her home safely. His presence made the world suddenly possess some order again.

  ***

  Brutus contemplated the wisdom of taking a trip to the military camp. The helicopter gauge indicated fuel to be low, and he had no knowledge of supply opportunities out there.

  He rubbed his chin and scanned his men. “Alright, you know the score. We’ve made contact with the military camp and we need to make a trip in the helicopter. A personal introduction serves two purposes. We can get a feel for who these people are, whether they can be of benefit or not. And they have supplies that we may need, that we can trade.”

  “Who’s going?” asked Niall.

  “Me and Silas. Everyone else is needed here. I don’t expect to be gone more than a day or two.”

  Niall crushed a plastic cup and threw it into the bin. “And if Silas decides to pull one of his tricks?”

  “Then he’s a dead man.”

  “And then you’re stuck at the camp unless you’ve taken flying lessons recently.”

  “One shit problem at a time,” said Brutus.

  “Who will be in charge when you’re gone?” asked Taylor.

  “Niall is in charge until I’m back. Magnus, let them know we’re departing.”

  ***

  Flying over Glasgow revealed the true extent of the horror.

  “I thought I’d seen everything there was to see in Iraq,” said Silas through his headset. “But you look down there, and you know this world has changed. I am not sure if we are the lucky ones or not.”

  Brutus couldn’t count the bodies down below even if he tried. “Less talk, more flying.”

  ***

  The frozen ground was unforgiving, but Eric liked the repetitive nature of the work. Digging trenches invited automatic movements, and allowed him to retreat into silence, a private retreat where he did not need to think too much. But pain compelled him to stop if only for a moment, pain at his ribs and pain in his hands. He threw down his shovel and pulled his gloves off. His hands were red and raw. It felt like a fire burned beneath his skin.

  “Eric, isn’t it?” One of his fellow diggers moved up next to him, dropping his tool, too. “Or Dog Man? That’s what the kids have taken to calling you.”

  Eric tucked his gloves under his arm and shook the offered hand.

  “I’m Mike Kazimier. Can we take five minutes to get our breath back?”

  “I don’t suppose it gets any easier?” he replied, looking back at his hands.

  “I’m afraid not.” Mike showed Eric his own blisters. “Nothing we can do about them. No pain, no gain, they say.”

  Mike sat down onto the edge of the trench, legs dangling over the edge. He pulled his canteen free and drank. Other workers followed, too, sat for a rest and water.

  “I’ve heard them talking about mining the entire approach to this camp,” said Mike. “There will be only one way in and one way out.”

  “Makes sense. Means we can concentrate firepower on the approaches.”

  “Makes sense until some poor bastard rushing toward the camp thinks they’re saved, then boom!”

  “That’s what the outposts are designed to do, aren’t they? Collect anyone looking for rescue and bring them back here?”

  “Yeah, supposed to.”

  “How did you make it here, Mike?”

  “I’m one of the lucky ones, got swept up with retreating military units. Life here for a start was hard. People died because we didn’t have enough medical supplies, and we had to learn order. But it’s gotten better. We all have a job to do. Everyone works. There’s hope in the camp.”

  “Have you lost family?”

  “Hasn’t everyone? But my wife and kids are here. I’m blessed. As for the rest of my family and friends, I don’t think it would be wise to hope. We’ve mourned them. What about you?”

  “My wife and kids are out there somewhere. A friend is keeping watch over them.”

  Mike squeezed Eric’s shoulder. “You’ll see them again, my friend. Just not today. Today, we need to dig.”

  The men returned to their sh
ovels and blisters.

  ***

  Rain thudded against the window with enough force to rattle the glass. Jane lay on the bed, under two thick covers, shivering. It was dark. Carter gave Jacqui the task to attend to her, watch her closely. The door was not locked. Jane could walk out of the bedroom and leave the house. But there was nowhere to go. Not alone. Not anymore.

  A light knock at the door brought her from her retrospect. She pushed herself up in the bed, pulling the covers to her chin. She was naked beneath by choice. As proof the Carrion Virus had not taken hold, she subjected herself to scrutiny.

  “Jane, I’m not disturbing you am I?” Jacqui asked, carrying a small gas lamp as she entered.

  “No, of course not. Is everything alright?”

  Jane sat lightly on the edge of the bed. “Carter says the virus would have taken hold by now. You can come out.”

  Jane laughed a sound void of humour. “Carter knows if I had been infected I would have succumbed in a matter of minutes. An hour or two at the most. Being kept in here is punishment for what happened at the supermarket. It’s bullshit. That’s why the door isn’t locked. Maybe he was hoping I would choose to leave. One less person to worry about.”

  “I don’t know what happened there, Jane, but I know he was mad. He’s said little to anyone since getting back. What did happen?”

  Jane could have lied, but chose to be selective. “I thought I knew better. I didn’t agree with Carter and went into the shop alone. I was silly and almost died.”

  “And Carter?”

  “We all have our parts to play if we’re going to make it. Carter has the military mind and he’s best equipped to lead us.”

  She hated saying the words, it felt like colossal defeat.

  “Don’t downplay yourself, Jane. You’re as valuable to this group as Carter or anyone else. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

  Jacqui patted her hand. Jane couldn’t shake the feeling the gesture was more for her comfort than Jane’s.

  “Is everything okay, Jacqui? Are the kids okay?”

  “It’s not them. Carter brought back a few working radios and a stack of batteries. He’s picked up transmissions, many transmissions. He says it’s not safe for us to remain here much longer.”

  “But we’ve got food and supplies now, enough to last for weeks.”

  Jacqui shook her head. “It’s not the food. It’s something else. Get dressed. I’ll make some tea.” She placed the lamp on a table then closed the door behind her.

  Jane dressed, grabbed the lamp and headed to the living room. The house was freezing. She was not sure of the time. The Crossley’s slept bundled together on the floor, one of them snoring softly. Jacqui’s children slept, too, wrapped tight in blankets. Carter sat at a table, large headphones on and connected to the radio. He tapped a pencil against the edge of the table as he listened. Jane touched Carter on the shoulder. He turned, not seeming surprised she was there. He pulled the headphones down.

  “Jacqui said there’s something wrong,” she said in hushed tones.

  “We might not be able to hole up here for much longer.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Carter pushed a small notepad to her and tapped it twice with the pencil. Jane placed her lamp next to the one on the table, picked up the notepad and leaned toward the light. It was a series of coordinates referencing a map. She was about to ask what they meant when Carter lifted the headphones back to his ear.

  “He’s broadcasting again. Listen.”

  Carter passed the headphones. Jane slipped them on. A voice and a background of static greeted her ears.

  “My name is Mark Flood. If you’re listening to this then you’re alive. What I’ve got to say could keep you that way. What you’re being told is a lie. The military are not looking to rescue survivors. There are elements of the military actively seeking out and eliminating pockets of survivors. I’ve seen this with my own eyes. The group I was with were killed with no warning as we begged for help. A few days ago we found a wounded soldier.” A burst of static obscured his next words, and it faded again. “He confirmed they are operating in zones of outbreak. Anyone alive or infected within they’ve been instructed to kill. If you’re in these zones you need to leave, and now. If you’re looking for somewhere safe I can only offer this advice. Get as rural as you can. Stay off the roads. Avoid major population centres. And whatever you do, do not trust the military.”

  The broadcast broke down into static once more.

  “The coordinates,” said Jane. “We’re in one of the zones of outbreak?”

  Carter nodded. “We are. We’re remote though. The chances of us being found right now is slim. And how long that goes on for, I’m not sure.”

  “Do we know who this Mark Flood is? Are you taking his threat seriously, Carter? It doesn’t sound like the British Army to go around killing innocents.”

  “You saw the carpark and the bodies. And there is more than just the British involved here. Many nations sent help in the beginning.”

  “What if this Mark Flood is trying to get people to leave their hiding places and travel openly? They would make an easier target out in the open? What if he’s a member of the military that’s doing the killing? If we leave, we may be putting ourselves in further danger.”

  Carter rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. “Staying here was never a permanent solution. We were to come here and wait for Eric. I don’t think he’ll come here now. We need to consider options. We have food enough to make a journey but if we can’t rely on the army for help, I don’t know where we should make for. What do you think?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  Carter sighed. “Jacqui thinks we should leave. She still believes Eric is alive and there will be chances to contact him somehow wherever we go.”

  “What about the Crosslys?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did you ask them?”

  “No.”

  It felt like it wasn’t the right choice, but circumstances were constantly robbing them of many choices which would have felt right.

  “We’re leaving aren’t we, Carter?”

  “Yes.”

  ***

  Eric made his way back to camp. The light was fading fast. All he wanted to do was sleep. He reached the clearing where his tent was pitched. Gemma was outside his tent, staring into an inviting fire. She was humming.

  “Gemma?”

  The humming stopped. “Welcome home, honey. How was your day?”

  Eric sat down heavily and placed his rifle by his side. “Long and repetitive. I’m glad it’s done.”

  “It’ll be dark soon. I hate when it gets dark here. I’ve lived so long in the city that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in total darkness. I hated it when I was a kid and now I find myself hating it as a grown ass woman. But the night never had real monsters in it back then.” She picked up a can of beer, drank heavily then burped. “Oh excuse me,” she said before laughing, then tossed the empty can to a pile. Four empty cans.

  “Where did you get those from?”

  “A girl has her ways,” she said with a wink. “I have some for you.”

  She laughed again. Eric like the sound. She laughed like Jacqui. Completely and honestly. Gemma moved to his tent, pulled the flap back and returned with a six pack of beers. She pulled one free and tossed it to Eric. He caught it deftly, weighing it in his hands, and weighing up something else. Alcohol almost ruined everything for him. A lifetime ago, he self-medicated and it brought him to the edge. But that was when the world made a semblance of logic. He needed this. He needed an escape from the madness of the Carrion Virus, even if just for a night. He opened the can and took a long swill. It was cheap, domestic beer. But it would do.

  “I heard a helicopter is arriving in camp later, someone from Glasgow. A group of survivors made contact.”

  “Good. Nice to know there are others out there.” Eric drained the rest of his beer, crushed th
e can, threw it onto the pile Gemma had constructed and motioned for another. Gemma passed him one and he drank. The booze brought a welcome feeling to Eric’s cold bones. Even his spine felt like it was thawing, and the muscles that had worked so hard out in the snow were beginning to relax.

  “So what now?” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before all this Williamson was going to make you a famous reporter with your inside story on the outbreak. So what now?”

  She brushed her hair back. “Why do you ask?”

  “Conversation.” He shrugged. “I’d talk about the weather if you’d prefer. It’s cold. Really cold.”

  “Really, really cold,” she added with a smile. But the smiled disappeared quickly. “Does anyone care how and why it all happened anymore? I mean really and truly? It has happened and we can’t change that. So, no more famous journalist dreams for me. I want to get back to my parents. And, I spoke with Alex Cunningham this afternoon while you were out digging away. He said the bulk of our naval forces are still in operation. Can you believe that?”

  “You got an audience with the camp boss?”

  “Yep.”

  “How?”

  “Like I said, I have my ways.”

  “You actually said, a girl has her ways.”

  “Whatever.” Her smile returned. “But he has a plan to transfer survivors offshore and set up a colony on one of the islands. That’s good news, yes?”

  “Yes. It is.” Eric kicked some twigs into the fire pit. Embers rose through the grill. “I’m not ashamed to confess that I’m scared, Gemma, scared to think I may not make it back to my family. They’re five-hundred miles away but it may as well be on the other side of the planet.”

  “I believe we’ll get home.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I have to.”

  He drained his second can and wiped his mouth with the back on his hand. Eric helped himself to a third, opened it and drank.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Gemma grabbing herself another can. “You know, you’ve never told me much about your family?”