Blood on the Motorway, #1

by Paul Stephenson

  Mira screamed.

  Jen burst forward. She slammed the door shut, as a third arrow hit it, wedging itself in the splintered woodwork.

  'Get down,' she screamed to Sam, who was entering from the kitchen carrying a big bag of Kettle Chips.

  He fell to the ground as the window beside him exploded in a shower of glass. A fourth arrow lodged in the far wall. Mira stopped screaming and hugged the wall. Jen joined her.

  'What the fuck is going on?' Sam shouted, scrabbling to get up and away from the window. Glass fell from his hair and clothes as he moved.

  Silence fell. They stayed as still as they could, listening for any sign of a further attack. Sam edged his face to the window and peered out.

  'Someone's moving out there,' he whispered.

  'Do you think it's the same person who killed Joan?' Mira said.

  'Could be someone who followed those two,' Sam said, motioning to the two fresh corpses.

  Jen watched the door. If someone was going to come in it would be through there. She wondered if she might get to the arrow lodged in it, but it was too risky.

  'Sam,' she hissed, and the boy's eyes stopped searching for an escape long enough to meet hers. 'Any knives in the kitchen?'

  He shook his head. 'All gone.'

  'Fuck,' Jen muttered. She ducked down and went over to Nadim's corpse. The arrow was embedded deep into his neck. She grabbed the feathered end and started to pull. The arrowhead pulled past bones and sinew and Jen fought back her gag reflex as the arrow worked its way free into her hands, the shaft and head smeared with blood.

  She crawled over to the front door and stood beside it, grasping the arrow. She might not have a bow, but if the door opened she was going to jam the arrow into the person who came through it with as much force as she could muster.

  There was a soft muffle of footsteps outside, and her grip intensified. The noise stopped, and the arrow wedged in the door was yanked back out.

  'I'm getting all my arrows back you know,' came a voice on the other side of the door. It was nasal, and full of a sing-song joy.

  She didn't respond, and after a moment she heard footsteps retreating from the house. She hardly dared trust it, but this was as good an opportunity as any to run. Mira and Sam hugged the wall like terrified statues.

  'Go!' she hissed.

  They darted to the back of the house. Jen found the back door unlocked and they ran into the rear garden. The gate at the far end looked unlocked, and they sprinted to it. Beyond the gate was nothing but serene English fields and hills.

  They ran. The tree line seemed an eternity away. With every footfall Jen expected the silent thud of an arrow hitting her back. They ran past the point of exhaustion, past the tree line and into the woods, never once looking back. They ran until Jen thought her chest would burst.

  Finally Sam stopped, holding up an arm to signal he could go no further. Mira collapsed to the ground, wheezing. Jen leaned against an uprooted tree trunk, her breath returning in hungry, rasping gulps. Each of them said nothing, trying to regain their breaths. Sam stood bent double, his hands on his knees.

  'Do you think he followed us?' Mira said.

  'No,' Jen replied.

  'Why not?'

  'Because we're still alive.'

  'She's right,' Sam said. 'We were out in the open too long, and he's a good shot. If he'd been following us he could have taken us down in a second.'

  'So he let us go?' Mira asked.

  'Let's hope so,' Jen replied. 'Come on, let's get moving.'

  'Can't we stay here?' Mira asked, moaning. 'I'm exhausted.'

  'We have no supplies, no food, no clothes. We need to find somewhere to shelter.'

  Mira nodded, and they moved forward. They'd been walking a few minutes when a loud crack rang out somewhere to their right. Sam caught Jen's eye, and motioned that they should move in the opposite direction. She nodded.

  They walked on, careful not to make any sounds. Jen's heart had started to beat normally when another crack rang out in the trees ahead of them, followed by a high whistling sound.

  'What the fuck?' she said under her breath.

  Sam wheeled around, looking in every direction. 'I don't think he let us go,' he said.

  'What do you mean?' Jen asked.

  'We're being hunted. He's moving us in the direction he wants us.'

  He let that sink in a second.

  'Think about it. He's a skilled marksman. He hit his first two targets perfectly. I think he's a hunter. He's driving us into a killing zone.'

  'What do you suggest?'

  'Well he's going to know roughly where we are, but not exactly. If he could see us, he'd take us out. We need to change direction, find a road, get a car and get far away from here. Whatever we do, we don't fall into his trap.'

  Jen was impressed. 'Who are you and what have you done with Sam?'

  'You spend as much time playing Assassins Creed online against homicidal pre-teens as I have, you learn a thing or two.' He smiled. 'And to think, my mum always told me I was wasting my time.'

  Another crack resounded, closer this time.

  Sam looked around. 'This way.'

  They moved as quickly and silently as they could, no longer attempting to run. The woods they were heading into were deep and getting darker, although that could be the gathering clouds Jen glimpsed through the canopy above. Every now and again Sam would bring them to a halt, look around, and head off in a completely different direction to before. Jen was completely disorientated. She hoped her guide knew what he was doing.

  The first drops of rain were starting to filter through the leaves above them when Sam signalled to stop.

  'We can wait here for a minute,' he said. 'I want to get a sense of whether he's still following us.'

  Jen nodded. Mira sunk to the ground and looked sullen.

  'So, survival man,' Jen said, 'you have any idea what we can and can't eat around here?'

  'Not unless there's a Greggs hidden around this last corner,' he replied.

  'We should try and get out of these woods. Which way do we head?'

  'I don't know,' Sam said. 'I'm pretty sure that whoever is tracking us is probably in that direction.' He motioned with his arm towards a tall birch tree. 'I think he was forcing us down towards the valley beyond it. I don't know if he's worked out that we're not doing what he wants. I hope not.'

  'Can we stay here?' Mira asked. Her complexion looked to be turning a worrying grey.

  'No,' Sam said, going over and giving her a hug. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I'll get you out of this.'

  Jen couldn't help but crack a smile. Boys and their need to play the hero.

  'We need to find food though, and water.'

  Sam nodded. 'Let's head in this direction. We're not going back on ourselves that way. Who knows, maybe we'll find a farm or something.'

  They set off. The way was darker now, and Jen stumbled more often on upturned roots. The rain intensified, but their cover kept them dry.

  Just as Jen started to forget about their hunter, another loud crack rang out in the woods. They stopped, looking around, but there was no sign of any movement they could make out in the ever darkening gloom.

  They moved again, with more urgency now. Jen wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline, but she felt eyes on her. She pictured their attacker, straight out of a redneck horror movie, waiting for them to stop and rest up so he could make his move.

  She wanted to scream, but kept moving forward. There seemed no end to these woods, they were climbing higher and higher, the rain pounding harder above them. They were pretty well soaked now, and she made sure to keep Mira in front of her, lest the weakened girl should fall behind. The incline steepened again, their footing starting to get less and less sure in the muddy ground underfoot.

  'I can't,' Mira cried out, and fell to her knees.

  Sam came back and put his arm around her, helping her to stand. Jen stopped, her breath shorter than she'd realised. The trees above were th
inning, the sky above entirely black.

  'This isn't going to let up,' she called out. 'We need to stop.'

  'Where?' Sam asked, incredulous.

  Jen thought about the camping gear they had so gaily abandoned.

  'Great fucking direction you chose,' Mira spat in Sam's direction.

  'Better wet than dead,' Jen said.

  Sam looked crestfallen at Mira's slight.

  'This is fucking hopeless,' Sam said. 'There's no shelter, nothing to keep us dry, or warm, no food. We can't stop here.'

  'Well I can't fucking go on!' Mira shouted. She slipped to the ground, squelching into the mud.

  'We stop for half an hour, catch our breath, okay?' Jen said.

  Sam nodded.

  Jen knew Mira wouldn't want to sit in the middle of a deluge for long, and so it proved. After ten minutes she rose, mumbled an apology to Sam, and they were on their way again. Jen wished they hadn't stopped. After even a brief rest, her muscles were tight, screaming in protest at every movement.

  The rain got worse. Within ten minutes it was like they were walking through sheer panes of water. There was lightning in the skies now, and deep rumbles which seemed to spring up from the ground rather than emanate from the sky. Her two companions eyed the heavens with utter terror. She didn’t remember the first storm, but they had been there and watching the end of the world, or so she assumed. They'd spent so much time trying to survive that she'd never thought to ask them about the night of the first storm.

  Is this it? Is this the world's end coming to finish the job it only half achieved last time out? Is this where I die, scrabbling up some pissing hill in the middle of fuck knows where?

  Jen reached the top of the slope. There was an open field on the other side, and suddenly they could see the storm in all its ferocious glory. Light danced through the dark clouds, illuminating them like some veined, living being. The water coming off of them looked like stacked waterfalls.

  'Oh my,' was all she could say.

  'It's so beautiful,' Mira said.

  'Look!' Sam shouted.

  He wasn't looking at the storm any longer. He pointed down the hill. At the bottom, lit by bursts of lightning, stood a farmhouse.

  Mira and Jen both issued squeals of joy and relief. They half ran, half fell, down the hill. Jen's calves chaffed painfully against her sodden clothing as she went, but she hardly cared.

  The farmhouse was steeped in darkness as they approached, slowing down as they got closer. They peered in through the windows, but there was no sign of anything moving within. Sam tried to force the front door, but it was locked. Mira picked up a brick and slammed it against the glass pane in the heavy wood. It broke noisily. Jen reached in and opened the door.

  After the colossal sound of the storm the silence was almost oppressive, but it was the pitch dark and the stench of decay which set Jen's hackles up more than the quiet. Not for the first time today she wished she had a weapon.

  They moved through the rooms, checking first the living room, then the kitchen. There was a dark hole which looked to be some kind of pantry. Jen hoped it was well stocked. There was another dark room, but again no signs of life.

  The stench intensified as they moved upstairs. Mira and Sam waited in the hallway while she investigated the first of the bedrooms. Two corpses looked to be entangled under the window, their dying act to watch the end of the world together. For a moment she stood and envied them, until a scream from the corridor brought her running back out of the room.

  Mira had opened the second door, where she had discovered the bodies of two children, rotting in their beds. She stood staring at them, sobbing. Jen took her by the shoulder, trying to hold back her own tears, and guided Mira out of the room. She closed the door.

  They went downstairs, where Sam busied himself lighting a fire. Mira sat on the sofa, tears still streaming down her face. Jen sat next to her and held her. Sam got the fire going, bathing the room in warmth and light, although none of them rejoiced in it much. They dried themselves in sullen silence.

  'This is how it's going to be now, isn't it?' Mira said eventually.

  'What do you mean?' Jen replied.

  'Always running, always finding places full of dead bodies. Dead babies…'

  'I don't know,' Jen replied. 'All this time I've been expecting we'd turn a corner and there'd be the army, or the government, or something. Someone to come and tell us it's going to be okay. Tell us what to do.'

  She sat for a moment, staring into the fire.

  'But I think we're past that now.'

  'So what do we do?' Sam asked.

  'Simple,' she said. 'We stay alive.'

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rise Up and Fight

  Tom awoke to muffled voices. His entire body hurt.

  He seemed to be on a bed. He scrambled to remember the last thing that had happened to him, and got a flash image of Baxter's guts all over his shoes. He tried to focus. Leon sat beside him, talking.

  '…getting fairly ridiculous now, what with the endless fainting, collapsing, getting beaten up, knocked unconscious. You're starting to make me look bad. I mean, I've been injured just as many times as you have, but you faint and get practically carried here on the shoulders of adoring crowds. I had to hobble back up here. Nobody brings me chocolates. And if you don't wake up soon, I'm going to go ahead and eat your chocolates for you.'

  'Hands off them, you filthy bastard,' he croaked as best he could. He looked over to Leon, who grinned at him, and returned whatever he could muster in the direction of a smile. He felt as though every inch of him had been tenderised.

  'Fair enough, as long as you promise to share them with me,' Leon said.

  Tom's throat burned, and he fumbled for a glass of water by his side, his arm barely up to the task of movement.

  'How long have I been out this time?'

  'A day or so. I swear, you must be the most well-rested man still alive.'

  'What did I miss?' The memories of his victory over Baxter were coming back to him now, making his stomach turn.

  'Not a lot. Most of Baxter's men pegged it pretty sharpish. A few of them have stuck around, but they're not the most popular people in the village. Oh, and there's a monster fucking storm outside as well.'

  Leon caught the look of panic on his friend's face, and laughed. 'Not that kind of storm. The proper kind, with rain and that.' He stood and went over to the window, pulling open the curtains to reveal rain pounding on the pane.

  Tom inched up a bit in the bed, his ribs protesting at the movement. 'So what's everyone saying?' he asked, wondering whether he was now the hero of the hour who brought down a tyrant, or the crazy man who carved someone up in a pretty brutal fashion. He hazarded a guess at somewhere in between.

  'Nobody's going to be crying over Baxter, if that's what you're worried about. I think everyone is sizing up their next move, and waiting to see what you say about it. I don't think anyone will be planning to leave tonight, but maybe tomorrow everyone will want to put this behind them and move on. Or they'll decide that sticking together is the best idea. Who knows?'

  'What do you think?' Tom asked.

  'That it's time for me to go to bed,' he replied, standing up. 'I'm glad you're okay. Get some rest.'

  He left. Tom lay staring at the window, trying to get to grips with the fact that he was a killer now. The rain was hypnotic, and after a while he struggled out of bed, went to the window and sat in the same chair he'd recovered in when he'd last had the crap beaten out of him. Before he'd killed a man.

  He took the covers off the bed and wrapped them around him to ward off the cold. The rain beat down as he tried to work out what might happen tomorrow. Part of him wanted to grab Leon and run, far away.

  * * * * *

  When he woke, the rain had died down, but dark clouds hung portentously in the sky. His back ached from both the kicking he'd received and the ill-judged choice of a wooden chair as a bed. He was able to stand more freely now, t
hough. He searched for a cigarette, but had to make do with the painkillers which had been left by his bedside table.

  He had been dressed in boxers and a T-shirt, so he started to look for clothes. He presumed his old clothes had been removed, soiled as they were with bits of Baxter, so he searched the wardrobes. The results were not great. A pair of corduroy trousers and a shirt at least one size too small on him were the best he could manage from the geriatric stylings of the room's previous occupant.

  He wondered if he'd have better luck in Leon's room and made his way out into the corridor. He entered without knocking and was confronted by the sight of his best friend enjoying an early morning romp with an unknown woman. He was halfway into the room and about to call out before his brain processed what was happening, at which point he found himself stranded too far into the room to go unnoticed.

  'Jesus!' called the woman, who Tom realised was Susan, their one-time rescuer and nurse. She leapt from astride his friend, pulling the covers over herself so vigorously that Leon was exposed in all his morning glory.

  Leon stared at Tom with a look of surprise.

  Tom felt his face redden and heard a bizarre sound come out of his own mouth, like a squawk. 'Um, sorry,' he said. 'Not quite what I expected to see.'

  He shut the door to the cacophonous sounds of laughter on the other side. He stood dumbfounded in the corridor, until the sounds of amorous activity resumed and he felt the need to move far away.

  Downstairs, he scoured the kitchen for food. It was well-stocked with cereals, herbs, jams, and other food that was of zero use without fresh bread, milk, meat, or vegetables to accompany them. He found a few tins lurking at the back of a cupboard which would suffice. He also found Leon's tobacco pouch and a functioning lighter, so he smoked a cigarette, before making himself breakfast.

  By the time Leon resurfaced from upstairs, Tom was enjoying a bowl of beans with tiny sausages, a cup of coffee and his third cigarette.

  'Morning,' Tom said jauntily as Leon appeared, a sheepish grin on his face.