by Mark Lingane
“He’s a bit young to be a drugged-out junkie,” Melanie said.
“The needle marks are regular. And there are faint marks next to each one. It looks like writing, but it’s hard to make out what it says.”
“To me, that indicates testing,” Nikola said.
“That’s horrible. Someone has been testing drugs on a small child?” Melanie said.
“Or maybe it was a cure for something,” Michael said, looking at the vial. “Looks like he was pretty ill.”
“The weather’s drawing in,” Nikola said, looking at the sky. “We need to find shelter before the rain hits.” He started walking in the direction of the vehicles.
“What about the boy?” Melanie said. “We can’t just leave the body here.”
“We can’t take it,” Nikola said over his shoulder. “We don’t have time.”
“I’m not going without him.”
“You’re not building much of a case.” Nikola slowed and turned around. “Very well, strap the body onto Parker’s roof. See if Angel has anything to wrap it in.”
They wrapped the child in the canvas from one of the military beds, and Peter hefted the light bundle onto the roof of Parker’s SUV. They tied it down and started on their way, with the added pleasure of an angry Parker, who occasionally tried to run one of the bikes off the road. They had used the canvas from his bed.
31
DARK CLOUDS ROLLED in behind them. There was a crack of lightning and the first drops of rain splashed against the dusty windows.
Nikola steered his bike over to Michael’s SUV, close to the passenger side where Albert was sitting. “Albert,” he shouted, “where’s the next nearest town?”
Albert consulted the map, using various pieces of mathematical equipment, and scribbled down some equations before circling two places on the map. “Ve have a choice of two,” he said. “The topographically closest, or the most useful one, vich has known hotels and supply stores.”
“Just give me the closest. Not everything has to be an experiment.”
“Three Rivers is closest. But it has a small population. There’s a turning two miles ahead.”
“That’ll do.” Nikola veered away from the SUV and continued ahead of the pack.
“Everything is an experiment,” Albert said to Michael, who nodded in agreement.
The rain began to bucket down. The steam engines started to misfire under the onslaught.
Within half an hour, they had limped into the town and taken shelter under the first wide roof available. It turned out to be the only wide roof available. Two small poles supported the roof on the side closest to the road. At the far end was a building with its windows and doors smashed in. A large window covered most of the front wall. Underneath the roof was a large concrete slab. In the middle of the slab stood two rusty and crumbling ancient petrol pumps.
Nikola looked at Albert. “What’s the population of this town?”
Albert consulted his map. “Forty-five,” he replied.
“Where are they?” Nikola looked around the handful of isolated buildings with broken windows and open doors. He looked up at the dark sky. Behind the clouds, the sun was setting and the temperature was dropping rapidly. He wrapped his dripping leather coat around him. “Parker, do a recon. We’ll set up camp.”
“Peter, do a recon,” Parker commanded.
“Hey, you can’t subcontract out the responsibility,” Peter said. “You do it.”
“I’m your superior officer. You’ll do as I say.”
“I’m not military.”
“Really? You could fool me.”
“It wouldn’t take much.”
“Stop it, girls,” Nikola said. “I don’t care who does it, just get it done.”
Parker and Peter glared at each other. Peter relented first, stomping off through the mud, searching for signs of life. Melanie hurried after him, skipping around the puddles.
“Look down the end of the, er, muddy road-path thing,” Parker said to Nikola. “Looks like a church. You want to sleep there? It looks dry.” He was unloading camping equipment from the side of the SUV.
“Churches make me nervous,” Nikola replied. “We stay here, out in the open.”
“In the wind, vulnerable to any wild animals?”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft in your old age, Parker.”
“Fine. But if you catch a cold, don’t come running to me.”
Parker dropped the equipment on the concrete and gazed around the area, looking for potential security vulnerabilities. He calculated that they numbered slightly below one hundred per cent.
Parker started to unpack the rest of SUV, inspecting his weapons as he unwrapped them. As he unloaded the box containing food, he noticed a wet trickle rolling down the side of the vehicle, dark green against the pristine white. He wiped it off, smearing it across the side. He swore. “Michael,” he said, “give me a hand in getting this kid’s body down. We can dump it here.”
Melanie and Peter made their way through to the nearest derelict building. The front door squeaked open slowly, revealing a small living room. The dim twilight did little to illuminate the room, but both could clearly see the devastation within. As they entered, the sound of the rain diminished to a soothing hiss. They prodded the various items scattered around the floor.
A dining cabinet lay open with all the plates smashed on the floor. Chairs lay on their sides, legs broken, material shredded. Clothes lay strewn in heaps. Melanie kicked one of the heaps, and gagged as the smell of decaying flesh coiled up. She ran her finger over the cabinet. It left a dark trail in the thick dust. She brushed it off, and the motes floated away on eddies of moving air.
Peter let out a small whistle to attract Melanie’s attention. She turned slowly, her eyes being drawn into the dark corners of the room.
“Look at this table,” he said. “There are fingernail marks scratched into the wood, as though someone was being dragged away from it.”
A sound like fluttering feet through puddles flashed past the open door.
Melanie’s head snapped up and she stared out the door into the darkness beyond. “What was that?” she whispered.
“Either a low-flying bat or really fast footsteps.”
She drew her sword and crept toward the doorway. She quickly glanced out, looking in both directions. She took a cautious step out onto the wooden veranda. All was quiet, except for the sound of the heavy rain against the tin roof. She crept down the front of the building and looked around the corner. Nothing. She crept along to the other end of the building. Nothing but empty darkness. She sheathed her sword and turned to return inside.
There was a screech and something beat down on her head. She shrieked. There were two loud steps, and the sound of something slicing in over her head. She looked up. Peter was there, with his knife sticking through a bat.
“Low-flying bats,” he said. “Must be a roost near here.”
He shook the creature off his blade. It landed on the wooden boards with a heavy thud. Blood spattered across the floor.
The two returned inside. Melanie took down one of the gas lamps and lit it. The soft glow spilled out into a small pool of light on the table. A few small bugs flew erratically toward the light, bouncing off the glass. There was a sudden intake of air from outside. They both snapped their heads toward the doorway.
“That wasn’t a bat,” Melanie said.
Peter crept forward and looked out.
There was a scratching noise to the side of Melanie. She peered into the dark corner of the room. There was another scratching noise. She approached the corner slowly.
Peter called from outside, “Hey, that bat was dead, wasn’t it?”
“Uh-huh,” Melanie confirmed. She took another step forward. The darkness closed in around her. She took another step.
“Then where’s it gone?” he called out again.
“Huh?” Melanie turned toward the door. There was a distant gunshot. Out of the dark co
rner came a long screech and a flailing pair of arms.
32
MICHAEL CLAMBERED UP the ladder on the side of the SUV. It was cold and slippery, and with his bad leg, he found it difficult. He finally reached the top and sat down next to the wrapped canvas. The shape looked odd. He poked it with his shoe. The shape crumpled. He untied the canvas and rolled it open.
“Hey, the body’s gone.”
Parker looked up at him. “Must’ve fallen off,” he said. “That’ll make it easier to bury him. Wonder why we didn’t hear the body roll off.”
“Maybe the engine drowned out the sound,” Michael said. He slowly made his way toward the ladder. “I’ll have Albert look at the engine.”
Parker turned his focus back to the surrounding area. The boy was standing there, his body a combination of rotting green and open wounds. “What the …”
The boy leapt at him, his mouth ripping open ridiculously wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Parker reacted, kicking his foot high and landing it in the center of the boy’s chest. The boy tumbled and rolled on the ground, then instantly was up on his feet. He spat and leapt again. Parker drew his pistol and fired directly into the boy’s chest. The boy fell back and collapsed.
“What’s going on?” Michael called out. He jumped down the last rungs of the ladder and splashed into the mud. He stopped when he saw the boy’s mutilated body. He gasped.
The boy rose, blood and mud dripping off him. His head twisted around unnaturally, and he stared at Michael. His eyes turned blood red and he slowly opened his mouth. Out drifted a green gas that floated over Michael and Parker. Their eyes rolled back.
Michael collapsed face forward into the mud.
Parker fought for consciousness before falling heavily to one side a moment later.
The boy stalked toward Parker. Parker tried to lift his arm to fire the pistol, but it felt heavier than lead. The boy approached, step by step, opening his cavernous mouth.
The blade came slicing in, severing the head from the boy. Nikola shifted the blade to his other hand and looked around cautiously. “We’d better call the others back,” he said.
Arms clawed at Melanie as the horrific screech pierced her ears. Her first reaction was to cover her ears, but she knew that wouldn’t end well. She rolled away, deflecting the desperate hands. One grazed her cheek and she thrust it away. The child landed on the floor and twisted around, crouching on his haunches.
Melanie drew her sword and picked up the remnants of a chair. The boy leapt forward. She caught him in the broken legs of the chair, twisted it and flung the boy to the floor, pinning him down. She drove her sword through the body, falling to her knees, staking the demented child to the wooden floorboards. She stood up, shaking, and then collapsed to her knees at the sight of the child.
Peter pulled her up, his own sword gleaming in the dim light. “This is a bad place. We need to go.”
They ran out into the street. Peter pushed Melanie aside and slashed into another attacking child, a female this time. One arm fell free of the deranged creature, but still she charged on. He slashed again, this time driving the sword directly into the center of her head. The head exploded, throwing a green sticky fountain upwards.
A third child charged. Peter stabbed out with deadly precision. The blade sank deeply into the child’s eye, which boiled and erupted out of the head before the child collapsed to the ground.
Sebastian charged out of another house. Several children were chasing after him, almost tearing each other apart in an effort to get to him. He came screaming into the street and turned. They leapt after him. He quickly surveyed the area and spotted an old shovel. He concentrated, flicked the molecules and transported the item into his hands. He twirled the shovel made up of invisible molecules and smacked it into the attacking children. They went sprawling into the mud.
One got up and charged him again. Sebastian swung the invisible shovel again. It cut into the side of the child’s head, stopping it dead. Sebastian stepped back from the horrific sight. The invisible shovel had sliced through to the brain as though it were a glass tube. He could see the child’s brain, blackened and crawling. He was suddenly terrified of what might come out if he removed the shovel.
Peter appeared and ran the child through with his sword, leaving the head hanging in mid-air. Sebastian released the molecular structure and the head dropped to the ground. He gave it a hesitant prod with his foot, and was relieved when it didn’t attack him again.
Peter swung around, cut through the second child and skewered the third, a boy. He thrashed at the end of the blade as Peter twisted it. He eventually went limp and collapsed. Peter pushed him off the end of the sword with his boot.
Melanie was nearly in tears.
Peter leaned down next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
“You don’t know how wrong this feels. Here I am, not able to have children, and I’m having to kill them.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a pretty horrific state of affairs.”
Nikola strode into the center of the group. “Okay, roll call,” he said. “Is anyone dead? If you are dead, please don’t answer.”
There were murmurs from everyone.
“Albert?”
“Ja?”
“Good. Stay in the SUV. It’s the safest place. Is Angel with you?”
“Ja.”
Michael slowly began to move. Parker stood up groggily. Nikola scanned them quickly. Both were recovering well from the effects of the strange gas. Everyone assembled in a tight huddle, hesitantly glancing out into the darkness. Their shelter had been shown to be remarkably useless. Bodies lay scattered around them.
Nikola went around counting the children and making sure they were dead. “Okay, so we’ve got some rabid kids. Is anyone wondering, like me, where the adults are?”
There was a bright flickering from the end of the road. Everybody turned slowly toward the lights.
“That’s the church,” Peter said. “That light means there’s someone down there.”
“I am not volunteering for that expedition,” Melanie said.
“Melanie, you’ve got a scratch on your face,” Nikola said.
She held up her fingers and wiped them across her cheek. “Must have been from the kid. I’ve got some on my arm as well.”
“Go see Angel. Get her to have a look and bandage it.”
“It’s all right. It just stings a bit.”
“Do it. I don’t need anyone picking up any infections. Or come with us to the church,” Nikola said, unpacking a lantern from one of the SUVs.
“Fine.” Melanie stalked off over to Angel.
Looking around nervously, Angel picked up some medical supplies and hurried over to the nearest building. She peered in. The room was deserted. She went in, set up a small lantern and quickly laid out the items on a table. Melanie came in a moment later.
“Please, have a seat,” Angel said. She patted the seat of the only surviving chair.
Melanie sat down.
Angel gently held her face and examined the injuries. “We’d better get these cleaned up straightaway,” she said. She took a couple of pieces of fabric from the table and folded them carefully before wiping the wound on Melanie’s face. Melanie noticed a deep scratch on Angel’s arm. The blood failed to budge.
“It’s no good. I need some water.” Angel looked around and spotted another small door. “I guess that’s the washroom.” She opened the door and disappeared into the small room.
There was a small sink on the far wall. She noticed the small boy just before he jumped at her, slashing out with his vicious claws and cutting deeply into her arm. She glanced out the door at Melanie, whose back was to her, and quietly closed the door. She stared at the creature. A glow crawled over the child’s body. Yellow started to seep from beneath its skin. Slowly and quietly, the body dissolved, leaving only a small pile of ashes on the floor.
Angel examined the fresh wound on
her arm, and then noticed the earlier one. She concentrated. Her arm glowed briefly and the wounds faded. The expanding molecules forced the dark green fluid out of her body, which trickled down her skin. She wiped it away on a scrap of fabric and threw it on the pile of ashes. She ran another rag under the tap and went back into the room.
Melanie was standing behind the door, rubbing her eyes.
“Oh, you surprised me,” Angel said. “Here, this wet cloth should help.” She ran the cloth over Melanie’s face and arms.
Melanie watched Angel carefully as she moved. “I thought you had a scratch on your arm.”
“Hmm?” Angel looked down at her arm. “No, I don’t think so.”
“It must be the stress. I could’ve sworn you had one.”
For a fraction of a moment, Melanie thought there was hesitation in Angel’s eyes. But it was fleeting and soon replaced by a vigorous shake of the head.
“I hope not,” Angel said. “My skin is so sensitive, I need to be very careful. Perhaps you should be, too.”
33
PETER AND NIKOLA made their way down the street toward the imposing building. The church was old. Its style clashed arrogantly with the era and its surroundings. The spire towered above the street, with the high-pitched roof cascading downwards. Rain had collected in the corners and coronets, and was bucketing down out of the mouths of gargoyles stationed on the corners of the building. As Peter and Nikola entered through the great wooden doors, one of the gargoyles crawled in through an open window.
Nikola lifted the gas lantern and let the light spill out. Both were taken aback by what they saw. The floor of the church was littered with paper. The paper was streaked with blood. The smell threatened to overpower them. The walls were covered in huge symbols, all drawn in dark red.
