“Stumpy no!” Eve shouted.
He stopped and looked at her.
“There’s something wrong with him, he looks, sick.”
He knew his eyesight experienced better days, but he saw what Eve meant.
There felt something ‘wrong’ about the man rising from the ground, slowly edging his way to the forecourt.
“Get in the car Eve,” Stumpy instructed.
“What?” Eve asked, transfixed by the figure.
“Get in the car NOW please!”
Breaking from her trance, she swiftly jumped into the driver’s side of the car. Basic instinct, more than anything else, caused her to lock the door as soon as inside.
The van the two men were in, accelerated from the forecourt, plumes of smoke emitting from its exhaust.
She immediately felt concerned for the women inside the kiosk, but they must have been keen to obey their manager’s instructions as, when the figure approached near the automatic doors, they remained closed.
Placing the car into first gear, she drove slowly to the exit of the forecourt.
She slowed the car down nearly to a stop, as they neared the figure of the man.
“What are you doing?” Stumpy asked, but she ignored him, as she stared from her window.
Apart from his slow gait, the person seemed to appear normal.
She saw the suit he wore, dirty and creased from its recent trip through the hedge, looked decent enough.
When the figure turned to face her, she took a sharp intake of breath.
She possessed several pieces of ink adorned across of her body.
Originally, she not been interested regarding having a tattoo done.
But, after her divorce, she went on a friend’s hen-party weekend to Corfu and awoke from a drink fuelled night on the town with the girls, with a poorly inked swallow on her left breast.
She found herself recommended to an artist located in a small town in Lancashire, who apparently did amazing cover ups.
Booking an appointment and, now sober, she discovered she loved the feeling, as the needle caressed her body and she looked down after a couple of hours, to see the poorly inked ‘swallow’, now covered by a beautiful phoenix.
She became hooked.
Only a few nights earlier she watched a television show about the ‘latest trend’ of getting your eyeballs inked.
Though loving the fact, she was ‘inked’ and admitting to herself, the feeling of it made her feel empowered, not as a woman, but as an individual, she could never understand the fascination of scarification, having piercings placed under the skin and most of all, having your eyeballs inked.
The figure she watched as she drove slowly, appeared as if its eyeballs were inked to the deepest of reds, almost to the point of blackness.
But, somehow, she knew this procedure was not the cause of the way his eyes looked.
His ivory-white skin, nearly translucent and covered with lines of darkened veins, gave the eyes an even more nightmarish appearance.
He stared at her with bared teeth, blood oozing from his mouth as his teeth opened and closed rapidly.
He now started to slowly shamble to the figures sat in the idling nearby car.
“Eve,” Stumpy said, but she did not reply.
“Eve!” he shouted, shaking her shoulder.
“Put your fucking foot down now Eve, for fucks sake please!”
She accelerated away from the figure and to the exit.
Her car reaching the roundabout, they drove up the incline to the lights, as she looked down at the shambling figure, stood at the kiosk window, outstretched arms upon the glass.
“Eve!” Stumpy called, quickly placing his hands in front of him to grab at the dashboard.
She could have sworn the lights were on ‘green’ when they slowly passed them, but all she could remember, the blur of movement from her right-hand side, as the other vehicle appeared from nowhere, colliding with the front of hers.
Her car was struck by, what they now knew, as being a large delivery van.
It collided with the front wing on the driver’s side, causing the car to spin onto the pavement, crashing into a nearby lamppost.
The car, still engaged in first gear, lurched onto the grass verge next to the pavement, before cutting out.
Jolted by the impact, but by bracing against the dashboard, he protected himself from sustaining any serious injury.
He glanced up, to see the van speed off.
There was no way the driver could not have noticed he hit their car.
He quickly turned to her.
She lay slumped forward, her long dark hair nearly obscuring the steering wheel.
Groaning aloud, she brought her hand to the top of her head.
Thank fuck.
He leant across to her, after removing his seatbelt.
Leaning across her lap, he turned the key to the ‘off’ position and shook her thigh gently.
Her black skirt, covered in the white residue of both the airbag within the steering wheel and the airbag within the driver’s side door.
“Eve, are you okay?”
Slowly turning to face him, he saw a small line of blood running down her right temple.
Oh shit.
Groaning again, she placed one hand to her head and one to her chest.
“What the fuck happened?” she asked, bringing the hand away and seeing the crimson liquid on her palm.
She’s fine.
“Some tit in a van hit us and drove off,” he replied, quickly glancing around the interior of the car, to see if any smoke emitted from anywhere.
“That tit has hurt my tit,” she said groaning, rubbing her large breast where the seat belt dug in, “it’s going to leave a hell of a bruise.”
Pulling the sun-visor down, she stared into the mirror.
Her face completely covered in the white powder which covered her skirt and blouse, she gingerly touched her temple, feeling a lump already starting to form.
“Pass me a tissue out the glove compartment please,” she asked him.
Retrieving the packet from inside the compartment, he passed her one.
He noticed at least several cars hurtled passed them, but not one of them stopped to see if they were okay.
“Where’s your mobile Eve? I’ll try and dial 999.”
Glancing at the console to her left-hand side where she normally kept her phone, she saw it did not sit there now.
Looking around, she found it now lay in the foot well near her left foot.
Removing her seat-belt she attempted to lean forward but stopped, receiving a bolt of pain through her head.
“I’ll get it love,” he said, leaning across and reaching to try and retrieve the phone from to behind the clutch pedal.
His cheek brushed against her firm, warm thigh where the skirt ended, and onto her bare flesh.
“If you try and grab a sneaky look whilst you’re down there, I’ll hit you with the bloody baseball bat.”
He smiled inwardly.
She is still joking at a time like this.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before love,” he said, managing to grab the phone and returning to the passenger seat.
“Oi,” she said, poking him in his arm, “when have you seen anything?”
She stopped as she saw the grin on his face and started laughing, causing her breast to ache.
“You bloody wind up merchant,” she said.
Stumpy, with some force, pushed open the passenger side door.
“What wind up?”He said, turning to her as he stepped from the car.
He managed to move from the way, before she could poke him again.
He made his way around the front of the car.
Jesus, we’ve taken a hell of a hit.
The wing was dented in and the bumper was completely away from the car. The headlights now non-existent and he could see the wheel on the driver’s side buckled inwards.
The noise of shouting and scre
aming from the carpark grew louder now, as more cars hurtled passed them.
He waved at them to grab their attention, to get assistance, but not one stopped. However, he did manage to see the frightened looks on the faces of several of the passengers in the cars.
Approaching the driver’s door, he saw that further along the road leading to the entrance to the supermarket, there rested another crashed car, this one embedded into the front wall of somebody’s house.
He pulled on her door, but without success.
She pushed on the other side but it was to no avail.
He watched, as she turned away from him, crawling across into the driver’s side. Her skirt rode up her long thighs, so he looked away.
Returning to the other side of the car, he couldn’t help but giggle as she leant forward on her hands and knees, trying to get her foot free from where it become entangled with her seat belt.
He bent down to help her.
She knew with the couple of buttons undone on her top, her large, full breasts were clearly on view. If it was any man other than Stumpy, she would have been self-conscious and embarrassed, but it was not, so she did not hesitate in letting him get close, as he helped her into the passenger’s side, then from the car.
“Bloody Hell,” she exclaimed, standing at her full height and listening to the shouting and screaming resonating from all directions.
A car drove passed, slower than the rest. She waved at them, but the driver accelerated away quickly, completely ignoring the red light he drove through and narrowly missing another car.
“Nobody is stopping love,” he said, trying again to dial 999 on her mobile, “and nobody is bloody answering either.”
He passed the mobile to her and she placed it in her breast pocket.
“What the fuck is going on over there?” she said, the screaming from the carpark, now constant.
“I’ve no idea Eve.”
She began climbing the large grass verge to get a clear view of the carpark below.
He struggled up the verge behind her, but with her long legs she made it to the top before him.
He stopped for a moment as she reached the top.
“Oh, sweet Mary, mother of Jesus,” she exclaimed, staring down at the carpark.
Chapter Thirty
Mere moments passed.
Nate ran to where his parents lay, kneeling to help his mother up first.
Gingerly, she stoodon her wounded leg, leaning against her son for support, the pain sending immense strands of hurt through her legs, the nerves in her calf feeling ablaze.
Jake rolled on the ground attempting to sit upright, managing to lean his back against the wooden fence separating them from the flowing stream running beside the stables.
“Are you okay love?” He asked her, one arm behind his back to soothe the bolts of pain coursing throughout his lower body.
“I, I think I’m fine,” she replied, staring at her riding boot, the leather broken and ripped.
“Help me get this off son,” she asked Nate, who gently eased the boot from her leg, as she stifled winces of pain.
She began rolling down the long, thick woollen sock to examine her wound, but lay down, the pain causing her to stop.
Jake eased himself along the ground to her, the pain in his lower back excruciating and the throbbing from the gash uncomfortable and painful.
“I’m sorry baby,” she said through tear filled eyes, staring at the clouds billowing across the sky, dark and threatening the onslaught of rain.
Jake worked his way along the ground next to his wife, Nate supporting him, until he managed to bring himself parallel with her wounded leg.
He glanced at where the woman bit ferociously, to get a grasp upon his wife’s flesh.
“There is no need to be sorry, it’s me who’s sorry love,” he said, softly.
“Don’t be sweetheart,” she uttered, tears falling as she continued to stare into the heavens, “you would have done the same to protect me.”
She knew in her heart, with the saliva from the mouth biting her, in addition to the blood spitting from it mixing in with her own blood and entering her bloodstream, somehow, she would become infected with the same thing.
A fact she knew to be inevitable.
I have to tell Jake.
The guilty secret she carried for the last few years regarding her indiscretion rose to the surface of her mind.
I have to tell him.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he responded, examining her leg.
She continued gazing upwards, processing what he said, stopping herself from finally confessing her guilty shame.
“What love?”
“I would not have done what you had done.”
Totally confused, her emotions wrought through fear, defeat and anger amidst a multitude of others, she raised her head, staring at him.
“What do you mean love?”
“I mean,” Jake said tenderly raising her leg, so she could see the wound for herself, “that I would not have spent so much on bloody expensive riding boots.”
Looking at him, she could not help but smile, a huge wave of relief washed over her.
“You swine!”
Nate helped his father up as they showed Abigail her leg.
Without a doubt, it was badly bruised, but there were no bite marks or penetration of the skin. The sturdiness and toughness of her boots put paid to that.
“So,” Nate said, “what do we do now?”
She pondered for a moment, rubbing her leg, the still figure of the woman sprawled mere feet from them.
“Let’s get our two into the trailer and the rest of the horses into the fields,” she said, “I would not feel right leaving them stuck inside of there.”
Jake looked up at her.
He tried to telephone the police on his mobile, but all he received was a message informing him there was nobody available to take the call and he should try again later.
“Sounds like a plan love, but I will let you catch Raven,” he indicated to the horse merrily munching away at the grass.
“It’s a deal.”
Nate made his way around the side of the last block to the car parking area. He stopped, calling to his parents without turning.
“Err Mum, Dad. You may want to take a look at this!”
Jake and Abigail quickly walked to where Nate stood, worried there may have been another of those ‘things’ somewhere in the parking area, or in one of the fields, Jake holding his hand to his back as the dull pain resonated through his body.
They need not have worried.
“Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Jake asked, standing in between his wife and son, staring into the parking area.
“Does it involve Elvira, Mistress of the Dark,” Nate asked.
“What? No,” replied his father.
“Then probably not,” his son replied, laughing.
Jake never ceased to be amazed at his son’s strength and resilience.
“We couldn’t just take it, could we?” Abigail asked.
“I mean, like borrow it for a short while?”
“We’ve tried to contact the police over and over again sweetheart but the calls aren’t getting through. What with that thing back there and the situation in Liverpool, I think we could take the chance.”
“But what if the owners turn up here and we have just taken it?” she asked.
“I don’t think the owner is going to be turning up any time soon,” Nate said.
His father looked at him.
“Why not son?”
“Because, that horse box belongs to Rosalind,” he replied.
“But she may come to collect it,” Abigail said.
“So, why is it that her car is still parked here?” Jake asked.
Tapping his Father on his shoulder, Nate pointed at the figure on the floor, near the entrance to the stable block.
“Rosalind won’t be driving anything for a long while Dad.”
�
�Ohh…”
They turned their gazes to the parking area.
In front of them, dwarfing all the other smaller vehicles and trailers in the carpark, stood a mammoth horsebox.
At between twenty-six ton laden, it stood as big as most heavy goods vehicles.
It was known as the “Excelsior”, the ultimate in luxury in the equestrian world when it came to transporting horses.
Its livery a Royal blue, with a huge white horse running along the length of its enormous chassis, stretching a full twelve metres in length and over four metres tall.
Capable of carrying up to seven horses at a time, accessed via three ramps, with space to spare, the living quarters put many top hotel rooms to shame.
“There is no way we are taking more horses Abigail.” Jake said, looking at his wife, gazing at the behemoth of a vehicle.
“I know that love,” she smiled, “but let’s get the other ones out into the fields. I’m surprised nobody else has turned up yet.”
“Love,” he replied, lookin across at the corpse of Rosalind, “I think this thing may be far, far worse than just the attacks we have been hearing about.
“I think we do as you say,” he continued, “load up our two, turn the others out and then borrow the horsebox. At least until this thing, whatever it is, blows over. I would feel a hell of a lot safer in that thing anyway than the 4x4. If the police pull us over, we can say Rosalind loaned it to us or something.”
“Nate love,” Abigail called, “can you grab Zeppo and put him in the gelding field please, whilst your Father and I find the keys to that thing to get Raven and Storm loaded?”
“No probs,” her son replied, rushing across to the grazing horse.
“Nate,” he called, the look on his face showing his concern, “if you see anybody like that or anything, shout and make your way into one of the fields.”
“Too fucking right, I will.”
“What was that?”
“I said, too right I will.”
Smiling, Jake led the way to the middle stable block to fetch their bay.
They kept a distance from the mangled corpse of Rosalind as they walked passed it.
Tears fell from Abigail eyes.
She did not have much time for Rosalind, finding her to be too full of herself, but nobody deserved to have anything like that happen to them.
The Infected Chronicles (Book 1): Origin Page 24
