by Riva, Aline
Greg pulled the trigger. As something stabbed at his neck and his body grew weak and he slumped to the ground, just before he lost consciousness, Flint's last, confusing thought was that he had been shot... with a tranquilliser dart?
Leaving the unconscious man on the ground, Greg went back over the hillside to fetch a coil of rope, then he returned and began to tie up Flint. As he worked, he thought about how it had all been done:
Standing on the bridge with Cleo, he had told her, “Whatever happens, I want you to know I'll always be with you. I love you... I'm always there inside your heart. But I don't have long left, I'm going to die and I'm trying to protect my son from this...”
When she had asked how long he had to live, he had spoken quietly, explaining the plan: “Hopefully not long. I fully expect Flint to shoot me dead very soon. But it's a set up. And once everything is in place, I need you to do something for me... I want you to jump off the bridge.”
“No!” she had exclaimed in horror.
“Yes!” he had replied, and then he had explained the rest of the plan...
The plan had been thought up by Greg, Marc and Parsons when the men had talked long into the night about how to get rid of Flint. They had found a way to be one step ahead of him. Parsons had slipped off to find the tranquilliser gun in the old storage room at the circus. He had taken a harness too and left it at the hotel for Cleo. She had hidden it by wearing it under Greg's borrowed shirt, and she had not needed to make much effort to appear so devastated and shaken in the time leading up to her jump from the bridge - after all, she was terrified of heights... Parsons had worked quietly in the background to make sure Emma and Vicki knew what was happening at all times. He had also crept into Flint's caravan early that morning and swapped his bullets for blanks.
Greg's appointment with Christian had been to get a bag of blood saved for transfusions taped to his chest. Christian had tinkered with it so that when he slammed his hand to his chest after the shot, the blood was real. So was the bullet hole. Christian had cut a hole in his coat in advance, then apologised and said it was no way to treat such an expensive coat.
On arriving at the circus tent, Marc's comment about firing blanks had been the password to confirm Flint was not armed with live bullets.
The only flaw in the plan had been Zodiac breaking free and seeing his father apparently dead from a gun shot wound. As soon as they had got back to the hotel, Marc had said, “Zodiac, it's a game. Daddy's not dead. He's pretending, to fool Mr Flint.”
Then Greg had sat up and held his arms out to his son, who had hugged him and wept tears of relief. Despite his ordeal Zodiac had done well, wailing and crying when Flint turned up. But even though he knew by now his father was okay, that child had not let go of him, even sleeping beside him because he said, he needed to be sure he was breathing. But Zodiac had soon got over the shock of it all.
By now, Greg had secured Flint. He finished tying his ankles, then took up the last of the length of rope, slung it over his shoulder and began to drag Flint's body back to town. He knew by now, Alex would have returned with John Mundy. His supporters would have banded together and there would be a big clash in town as the final men on Flint's side were battling it out – but they were outnumbered. As he hit the road that led back to the sea front, he dragged the body behind him with ease, thinking how well it had all turned out. Greg chuckled. Maybe this town would be turning around for the better after all, and very soon...
Vicki had stayed in the hotel with Zodiac. The windows were closed and she had promised him as soon as this was over, his father would be back. She was not going to let that boy out of her sight, not while the fierce battle was raging across the field...
People had fled the fairground as Mundy's men had clashed with Flint's masked guards. Some guards had tossed aside their masks and joined the other side, then as Mundy grappled with a lunging attacker and he let a spray of bullets fly, two men tumbled back from masked guards at the back of the storage area as the door swung open and the undead began to stumble out.
John turned and signalled to three of his men, who fired at the corpses as the trickle of undead slowed as those caught in the maze saw the daylight between the mirrors within the exit.
Marc was struggling with a masked man as his attacker cried out and suddenly let go – a zombie had grasped him with its rotting hands and plunged hungry jaws into his living flesh, tearing at his throat as blood spurted. Marc stepped back, turning in the chaos to see Greg in the distance, dragging the unconscious Flint past the battle zone... he was heading for the brothel...
Emma joined Marc just in time to see Alex dash through a crowd of masked men and he shot a spray of gunfire as he ran, then leapt over two felled corpses and darted over to the open door at the back of the storage area.
“Alex, No!” Emma yelled.
As more creatures staggered out he slammed the door shut, locking it firmly but then first one lunged, sending him tumbling to the ground as another sunk to its knees and grabbed him.
Emma turned to run but Marc pulled her back.
“Don't go into a horde alone!”
“Then come with me!” she said, “I'm not leaving him!
Emma ran off, shooting as she cut a path through the battle as Marc ran after her, keeping her covered as he picked off zombies left and right as they filled the area by the open door.
Emma reached Alex first, loading bullets into the heads of the two zombies who had him on the ground. Alex was screaming. His clothing was torn, he had bites on both arms and one to his shoulder and he was bleeding heavily.
She looked back at the raging battle.
“We have to save him!”
Marc thought quickly.
“I'll get him to the car, you can drive him to Christian.”
Marc lifted Alex who was by now unconscious and still bleeding heavily, Emma covered him as he carried him around the edge of the battle, she sprayed bullet after bullet into every human and non living threat that came their way, then they reached the road and Marc laid him in the back of a parked car.
“Be careful!” she told him, then she got in and drove off at top speed.
Marc rejoined the battle, taking out the last of the undead who were piling into the men who fought on the field. Then a heavy blow from behind and a searing pain to his upper arm sent him sprawling to the ground. For a moment the world went black, but then as the roar of the battle came back in full clarity and his vision cleared, the masked man standing over him was hit by a shot to the chest and fell backwards. The shooter leaned down, grabbing Marc's hand as he hauled him to his feet. He was looking into the eyes of John Mundy.
“You're bleeding,” he said.
Marc looked down, saw a deep slash to his arm. Blood was running heavy and he grasped at his arm as John laid a hand on his shoulder.
“It's almost over,” he said, “Get a ride to the medical centre. You need that wound sorted out, it doesn't look good. Lots of vehicles are leaving – grab a ride!”
Marc could only nod as he staggered from the battle field. He was rapidly growing weaker as he looked back to see the remainder of the clash between the two sides – John had rejoined his men, who were now fighting off the last of Flint's supporters. Dizziness swept over him. His back ached and his arm was pumping blood.
“Marc!”
He blinked away blurred vision and it suddenly cleared as he saw Vicki run towards him. Zodiac was waiting by a car and the door was open. The driver was not masked and he beckoned to them, urging them to hurry up.
“Who's in the car?”
“A guy who works at the hotel. I saw you injured and I came help. Let's get out of here!”
She put her arms around him and led him away from the edge of the field and to the waiting vehicle as the last of the shots were fired and the sound of battle began to fade from the air.
Flint woke up feeling disoriented. He thought he heard a spray of gun fire in the distance, then a few more shots were
fired and the sound faded out. He recalled the bridge and Cleo's trick with the jump and the safety harness... and Greg was alive, the bastard must have had his bullets switched with blanks... Rage boiled up inside him as the sedative began to wear off. Then he realised his hands were raised above his head and he was handcuffed to a bed... it was the bed in the zombie brothel... He started to struggle. Just then the door opened and Greg walked in. He smiled as amusement danced in his eyes.
“Oh, I see you're awake at last! I'll just bring you up to speed on the latest news: Your men have been overthrown by Mundy's local guys. Cleo is safe and back at the hotel with Parsons, who had to fire off a few shots on the way back - but they are both safe and as far as I know, none of my people lost their lives today. I thought you might like to relax in here after such a stressful day. I've even arranged some company for you...”
“Fitzroy you bastard, unlock these cuffs!” Flint yelled desperately.
Greg had gone over to the metal door, releasing the top and bottom bolts. The door creaked as something behind it bumped and scraped and a low moan sounded. A look of terror came to Flint's face as he struggled in vain and the door swung open. Two female zombies staggered out, setting their sights on him as they snapped their jaws, smelling the scent of warm blood in the air.
“Help me!” Flint yelled.
By now Greg was in the open doorway.
“I'd love to stay but I'm so busy... Have fun!” he said as a dark sparkle came to his gaze and he gave him a playful smile.
The creatures lunged at the cuffed man. By the time Greg had closed the door and dashed off down the stairs, he heard Flint screaming as the zombies tore into him. He left the brothel with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. Flint was no more and the battle was over. Peace had descended on Circus Town.
As Greg crossed the street, he saw the wounded staggering from the battlefield. Then he noticed a young woman cradling a crying child. The girl had been hit by a stray bullet.
“Please help us!” the frightened woman begged as she wept and her fair hair hung in bloodstained clumps about her face.
Greg paused to study the child's wound, it brought to mind the injury Zodiac had suffered when the sniper at the tower had caught him.
“I think the bullet grazed her,” he said, “And you have a cut above your eye that needs closing. I'm going to take you both to the medical centre.”
Then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in the child's hand.
“Keep this on the wound,” he said kindly, and the little girl winced as she pressed it to her arm.
“It's okay,” he added as he smiled, “I haven't blown my nose on it!”
Finally the little girl smiled back.
“Thank you,“ the young woman said gratefully.
“No problem,“ he replied as he helped them up and waved down a car, one of many that was about to leave the scene of the battle. The car slowed, the driver invited them in and the woman and child got in the back and Greg got in the front.
“Take us to the medical centre,” he said.
“Aren't you that new guy in town, Doc Fitzroy?” asked the man who was driving.
Greg smiled proudly, liking the sound of his new nickname.
“I certainly am,” he replied, then the car pulled out and headed off down the road, now one of many vehicles heading away from the battle zone.
After twenty minutes, the medical centre was packed with injured people on chairs and on the floor. Greg had taken the young mother to a side room and showed her how to clean her daughter's wound and dress it, then he had used butterfly stitches to repair her mother's wound and told her to sit there for a while and not to get up in case she felt dizzy because she had suffered a head injury. Then Christian had caught sight of him and yelled his name. Greg hurried down the corridor to the emergency room to see Emma standing there looking pale as her gaze was fixed on Alex. He was unconscious and stripped to the waist, he was on the table and had deep bites to his arms and shoulder. The sight of those bites took Greg back, just for a moment, to the icy cold of the North Sea and the pain inflicted by the zombies as they rose from the water and attacked.
“I need some help,” Christian said, “I can't deal with both of them and I have others waiting. Greg, you're a doctor now whether you're ready for it or not, starting with your best friend... Marc has a wound that needs stitching.”
As he indicated to the chair by the table, Greg saw Marc was sitting there and Vicki was standing beside him, worried, as Zodiac looked on.
“He's going to pass out... he's lost so much blood!” Vicki sounded panicked.
Marc turned to Greg and struggled to focus.
“Help me...” he said weakly.
Greg glanced to Zodiac.
“You keep out of the way, son. Go and sit in the office.”
As the boy nodded, Greg went through to the office and took off his coat and draped it over a chair, then as he returned to the other room he was rolling up his shirt sleeves and reaching for latex gloves.
“Sewing kit?” he said, glancing to Christian, who indicated to a trolley on the other side of the room.
“Suture kit,” he corrected, then he got back to the task of stemming the bleeding from bites not yet ready to cut out as Alex lay motionless on the table.
While Christian worked, cleaning the wounds with a quickly made up solution of salt water, he watched as the edges of the wounds began to rapidly turn black as a sudden thought came to him.
“Saline?” he muttered, “Salt water.. I think I'm on to something.”
Greg didn't hear him, he had threaded the curved needle and was searching for anaesthetic.
“I need to give him something for the pain.”
“Sorry,” Christian replied as he worked on Alex, “I don't have enough stocked. Only the worst of wounds can be numbed with a jab.”
“Oh well...” Greg shrugged and then unbuckled his belt, slid it off and handed it to his best friend.
“What's this for?” Marc asked in confusion.
“Bite on it, I'm going to stitch you,” Greg replied.
As Marc bit on the belt and gave a muffled cry of agony as Greg slid the needle into flesh and dragged it through, Christian glanced over at him, watching as he started to stitch the wound. He thought again how right he had been back on the journey from Wolfsheer: Greg didn't know it yet, but he was actually quite good at treating patients. Even if Doc Fitzroy was behaving like a doctor from the days of the wild west...
They worked through the night and into the morning. The walking wounded were sent home and the badly injured were kept at the medical centre. By sunrise, the dead were covered with sheets and left outside for collection – twelve of the worst injured had died, they had been beyond saving – but Alex was still holding on, and had been moved to another room and put in a bed where he was still deeply unconscious. Emma had not left his side. Zodiac had made a bed with a pillow and blanket on the floor of the office and slept through the night.
Finally as the last patient was treated and left to rest, as Greg washed the blood from his hands and Christian cleaned the treatment room to clear away the bloodstains, their task was complete.
“I'm exhausted,” Greg said.
“So am I,” Christian replied, “We can hand over to a few volunteers to watch over the wounded while we sleep. I'm going to grab a few hours in the office. I suggest you go home for the day with Zodiac and see Cleo.”
Greg had dried his hands. He turned around and looked at him in surprise.
“But you need me here!”
“We've both done all we can for now. I can handle emergencies. Get some rest, Greg.”
Just at that moment, Vicki came in with two young women from the town.
“They're here to help out,”she said brightly
“Wonderful!” Christian said.
Greg had grabbed his coat and put it on . By now Zodiac was up and ready to leave with his father.
; “How's Marc?” Greg asked Vicki.
“Very sore but resting,” she replied.
“Great. I'll look in on him when I get back to the hotel.”
Greg headed for the door as Zodiac followed. Just then Christian said his name. Greg turned back and Christian smiled.
“You're going to be a great doctor. Well done, buddy.”
“What can I say – I'm just talented. And tired! See you later, Christian.”
They walked away from the treatment room and headed down the now empty corridor, as they left the building he was thinking about what Christian had said, and he smiled:
Yes, he would make a good doctor. He had found his new niche in life – now he was Doc Fitzroy, and it was a role he intended to take pride in. It seemed an odd conclusion to draw, but as he walked back to the hotel with his son and he reflected on his dark past, he concluded that not many men could say the apocalypse had changed their life for the better, but he certainly could.
Chapter 11
Four days had passed by since Flint and his men had been defeated. John Mundy had already proven what a capable leader he would be: All three storage areas that contained the undead had been burned. The zombie brothel had been razed to the ground and the zombies that used to line the way to the fair as they snarled in their cages were also gone, they had been shot and the cages were now removed. John had stopped by the medical centre to visit those who were still seriously hurt from the battle. Then he had called a meeting at the town hall and gathered together all those who had the skills to rebuild and help strengthen the town's outer layer of security. Circus would never again have a zombie presence, even for entertainment purposes.
There was a notice on the closed gates outside the fair, stating the place would be closed for three weeks for decontamination. The whole place was going to be cleaned out, the zombie limbs and severed heads would be removed and burned, then the entire fair needed to be thoroughly disinfected. This was a new era, one where patrols were made up of friendly men without masks, guys who were there to help keep the community safe. There was not a glimpse of the undead in sight and when the fair reopened, it would, according to the notice on the gate, be family oriented, like it used to be in the old world.
