by Jack Lewis
After mum died, Ed’s dad had started practicing mindfulness. Ed was full of anger, and he couldn’t believe that his dad was finding solace in a bunch of new-age hokum. James had calmed him down.
“It’s only crap if it doesn’t work, Ed. Give him a break. He and mum were together half their lives. We’ve lost a mum, but dad’s lost a whole part of himself. Just give him time.”
Ed changed the subject.
“So what do we do when we get out of Loch-Deep? Where do we go? I’ve never even been to the Mainland before.”
The Savage looked up. His eyes were dark.
“You want to find your brother, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll help you. Both of you. Just keep the blood coming.”
Bethelyn walked over to him.
“Give me a little room,” she said.
The Savage budged over and offered her the end of the rock. Bethelyn sat down, shifted her body and then looked at him.
“You really don’t want to go back to what you used to be, do you? The killing and the cannibalism.”
“It’s still cannibalism if he drinks blood,” said Ed.
“But this way I don’t have to kill you to get it,” said The Savage.
~
Just before evening, they were thinking about stopping to take a rest. Ahead of them was a bunch of trees, and there was a structure just beyond, propped up against the trunk of an oak tree. It looked like someone had made a make-shift hut out of a jagged tin roof and rectangle-shaped piece of plastic.
“Hold on,” said Ed. “Let’s be careful about this.”
As they approached the hut, they heard the sounds of a man groaning.
“It’s Ripeech,” said Bethelyn. “He’s trying to trick us.”
Ed shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. If it’s anything, it’s an infected. Just be careful.”
They found a man in the hut. His skin was pale as if he’d lost pints of blood, but his eyes were human, and he didn’t make any attempt to grab them when he saw them. Ed was glad that the man wasn’t infected, and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
He wore a green khaki coat that he’d unzipped to his waist, and his bare skin was beneath it. There was a long wound stretching from his neck down to his pelvis. It opened across his skin like a fault line in an earthquake. Stepping into the hut, Ed had to hold his breath to ward away the smell of rot and urine.
The man was laid down on a bed of leaves. Next to him was a bag. There was a green drinking canteen, and in the other corner of the hut was a bear trap. Flies buzzed around the man’s chest. Ed wondered how long he’d been living here.
The man moaned. His breaths were raspy. Sweat stuck his greasy brown hair to his face, and acne scars dotted his skin. He wore a belt around his trousers, but he’d cut a new hole into the leather so that it would wrap around his skinny frame.
The Savage stood at the entrance.
“Avon calling,” he said.
Ed glared at him. “It’s okay to make jokes now?”
“When I’m hungry, I can’t help it.”
The man looked at him. There was a vacant look in his eyes. He lifted his arm to his face, but he moaned with the effort. He rubbed his eyelids and then opened them again, as if he had expected them to be a mirage.
“Did Rex send you?” he said, grimacing as if each syllable sent shocks of pain through his body.
“What are you doing here, buddy?” said The Savage.
“You’re not with the rest of them?” said the man.
Ed shook his head. “What’s your name?”
“Cillian.”
“What the hell happened to you, Cillian?”
Cillian reached out toward the drinking canteen. The Savage picked it up, unscrewed the lid and passed it to him. Cillian took three painful gulps.
“If you see Rex or Andre, tell them I found it.”
The Savage patted Cillian’s knee.
“We don’t know who the hell Rex or Andre is, pal. But I’ll tell you our names. I’m The Savage – don’t bother asking if that’s my real name - and this is Wetgills and Beth…something or other. I don’t remember.”
“Touching,” said Bethelyn.
“We were shipwrecked and ended up on this fine part of the Mainland,” said The Savage. “Not the way we wanted to go, but we sure as hell aren’t staying. Now that’s our story. Take a deep breath, guy, and tell us yours.”
Water dribbled down Cillian’s chin, but he didn’t make any effort to wipe it. His chest heaved, and as he breathed in, the wound across him expanded. The flesh was swollen red, and Ed didn’t think he’d ever get used to the smell. They had to do something for him.
“I’m a hunter,” said Cillian. “Came here for Ripeech. Had Saxon with me, but he ran when we saw it.”
“Coward,” said The Savage.
Cillian shook his head. “Saxon’s my dog. He scares easy, though. Found him when he was a pup, he’d been living under the crawlspace of a house in an infected neighbourhood.”
He leaned forward a little and coughed. He cried out in pain.
Ed looked at the swollen red flesh. It left a gaping hole in the man’s chest, and it made Ed sick to look at it. He turned to Bethelyn.
“Can you do something?” he said.
She shook her head. “You could have all the stitching in the world and you wouldn’t be able to fix this mess.”
Ed leaned in toward The Savage. He spoke in a whisper.
“We need to do something. We can’t leave him like this. And if Bethelyn can’t fix him, then we’ll have to do the right thing.”
The Savage stared at him in amazement. “You’re getting tougher, Wetgills.”
Tears formed in Cillian’s eyes. Another wave of pain flowed through him, and he gripped the lining of his coat until his knuckles turned pure white. Ed grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“Tell us about it,” said The Savage. “About Ripeech.”
Cillian let out a raspy breath. “It’s a creature, just like they say, but I’ve never seen anything like it. Its body was rotten and a weird shape. And the smell… It even made Saxon nauseous, and that damn dog would eat anything. Its skin was bloated up like a balloon and it dragged its leg behind it like it was crippled or something. But when it decided to move…boy. There’s no getting away from it.”
“Sounds lovely,” said Bethelyn.
“I tried trapping it,” said Cillian. “Set a whole load of bear traps in its hunting grounds. It’s a devious son of a bitch, though. Before I knew it, Ripeech was hunting me, not the other way round. Saxon ran away and left me alone, and I spent a week hiding from it.”
“So what happened?”
“I let my guard down. Fell asleep with a fire burning outside the hut. Next thing I know I wake up and it’s in here with me. Stood over me and staring. Stinking the place up like you wouldn’t believe. I thought it was gonna rip my face off, but it didn’t.”
He held his arm out for the canteen again. Ed placed it in his hands. Cillian shook the metal container and found that it was empty. He let it drop to the floor, and then winced.
“Then what?” said Ed.
“It didn’t attack. Just craned its neck to one side, like it was interested in me or something. It got to its knees and crawled up next to me, and it lifted its head to mine and whispered to me.”
The Savage nearly fell over in shock.
“It spoke to you?”
Cillian nodded. Ed didn’t think his face could have gotten any paler, but now there wasn’t a trace of colour left in his skin.
“He spoke to me, but the words didn’t make any sense. And that’s not all. His face…”
He spluttered, and blood spat out from his lips and onto this chin.
“He’s got the face of a man,” he continued. “It must have lain next to me for an hour. I didn’t dare move. I was so scared I wanted to piss myself, but I didn’t in case it got mad. And then it looked at me, and s
uddenly it turned. It got a mean look on its face. It started making these horrible wailing sounds, like it was in pain or something. It snarled at me, and then it pounced on my chest and did this.”
“And then what?” said The Savage.
Cillian looked on the point of passing out. His wound looked so raw that even Ed felt it sting. The Savage tugged on his sleeve.
“Then what, Cillian? Where did it go?”
“Come on,” said Ed. “Leave him be.”
The Savage rounded on him. “What the hell are you talking about, Ed? Look what it did to him. It’ll be us next, and you want me to leave it be?”
Cillian blinked. He stretched out and pointed to a green rucksack at the side of the hut. Ed picked it up and handed it to him.
“No, you look inside,” said Cillian. “I can’t sit up.”
Ed rummaged opened the rucksack. It was completely empty except for a scrap of paper. He took it out and unfolded it. It was a map with lots of different symbols drawn on it.
“What do you want us to do, Cillian?” said Bethelyn.
He coughed. It sounded like he was choking, but then he spoke.
“There’s nothing you can do.”
He clenched his teeth together as pain ripped through him. The stench came back, but this time Ed breathed through it. Cillian’s nose must have become numb to the smell, but surely even he knew there was no way he was leaving the hut. Someone had to do the right thing.
“There is something we can do,” said Ed.
Cillian stared deep into his eyes and Ed knew that he understood. Ed could hardly believe that he had suggested it. It showed how much he’d changed. He’d been sheltered in Golgoth while the outbreak ripped through the Mainland, and he’d never had to make tough decisions. He couldn’t run from them now, though. He was going to have to make some difficult calls and do unpleasant things, and this was one of them.
“Are you crazy?” said The Savage. “We haven’t seen anyone for days. That thing is out there watching us, and this guy has actually been up close with it.”
Ed looked deep into Cillian’s eyes.
“Do you want me to do this?” he asked.
Cillian nodded. He spat blood out of his mouth, and the dribbles landed on his chest. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists as his body racked with pain.
“Just do one thing,” he said. “If you see Rex, tell him I nearly did it.”
“Nearly did what?” said The Savage.
“I nearly caught the bastard.”
“Nearly caught it? What the hell are you saying? Look at yo-“
Ed held his hand up. “Give it a rest.”
Was he going to do this? Had he really come this far? Deep down he knew he was doing the right thing. It would have been wrong of them to keep this man in agony. He couldn’t help but think about James, and what his opinion would be. His brother was a romantic above all else, and he had a deep sense of empathy. What would he say if he saw Ed now?
Ed took off his coat. He wrapped it into a bundle and held it in his hands. Bethelyn sat next to him, silent. The Savage got up and huffed, and then left the hut.
“Bye, Cillian,” said Ed.
He put the bundle over Cillian’s face and pressed down with all his weight. After a few seconds, Cillian struggled. His survival instincts kicked in and seemed to override the pain, and he thrashed as Ed smothered the life out of him. He gripped Ed’s arms and tried to pull him away. Ed kept up the pressure until Cillian’s arms fell limp.
Ed sat back and caught his breath. He stood up and walked out of the hut. The evening air was stuffy, but he was cold inside. His stomach felt as if it had turned to water. There was a hand on his shoulder, and when he turned, he saw Bethelyn.
“You did a good thing,” she said.
The Savage was sat on the ground with Cillian’s map in front of him. He looked up at the two of them, and for the first time in hours, his eyes looked alive.
“You need to see this,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ed
They spread the map in front of them. Rain pattered down through the bare branches of the tree above, and damp spots blotched the paper. It looked like an ordinance survey map of the area, except that Cillian had marked certain spots in black pen. Crosses meant traps, and he’d drawn an ‘R’ wherever he had spotted Ripeech.
“Give us some cover, Ed,” said The Savage, as rain fell on them.
Ed held his coat in his hands. It was covered in blood from the attack on Golgoth, and mud from travelling through Loch-Deep. Since using it to put an end to Cillian’s suffering, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to wear it.
He reached up to a branch of the tree and spread the coat across it to form a crude roof. It was hardly snug, but it stopped the map getting wet.
“Is it useful?” said Bethelyn. She pulled her hood over her hair. It had started to frizz as it got wet. When it was covered, all Ed could see was her pointy nose.
The Savage put his hand down on a corner of the map to stop the breeze taking it.
“You can see from the number of ‘R’s in this area,” he said, and pointed to the map, “that Ripeech likes to stalk one place. Seems he’s not a fan of change.”
“So we can avoid it, right?” said Ed.
The Savage shook his head. “Unfortunately, Wetgills, that’s exactly where we need to go. Straight through Ripeech’s hunting ground.”
Bethelyn kneeled on the floor. The mud spread a damp patch on her knees.
“What about the crosses? Those are Cillian’s traps, so they should help us.”
“Depends what he used,” said Ed.
The Savage studied the map. “I’m no hunter, but he must have used bear traps, like he said, and…other stuff like that.”
“Are you sure you’re not a hunter?” said Ed sarcastically.
The Savage looked at the map. “We have to tread carefully.”
Bethelyn looked around her. She shivered.
“It’s getting closer. Or he’s getting closer. I can feel it. The air seems different here. It stinks, for one. Like when Argyle started dumping waste from the butcher’s shop in a field on Golgoth. Remember that, Ed?”
He remembered it too well. The island had stunk of rotting meat for days, and nobody knew where it was coming from. At first, an old man named Gordon Rigby had blamed Ed and his brother James. ‘This is just the sort of stunt they'd pull for a laugh,’ he said. Then one night, Constable Leland had seen Argyle dumping cow offcuts near Farmer Jones’s carrot field. Neither Ed nor James ever got an apology.
“Ripeech doesn’t keep a clean house,” said The Savage. “How many of his presents have we found just this morning? That’s why it stinks so much around here.”
It was hard to walk even twenty feet through Loch-Deep without coming across the half-eaten carcass of a rabbit or deer. There was no doubt now that they were all Ripeech’s doing. Ed wondered why he killed the animals, took a few bites, and then just left them to die. It was as if he toyed with them, or grew bored after killing them.
He thought about what Cillian said. How Ripeech had crawled into his hut and laid next to him, whispering to him in a language that was decidedly un-animal like. What the hell was this thing?
The Savage rolled up the map. He got to his feet, and then stretched his legs.
“Nothing for it,” he said. “No detours, no shortcuts. No family-friendly footpaths. We need to walk through Ripeech’s den.”
~
They came to a part of the plains where the pine trees grouped together. A stone path wound through, and there were several log cabins all close to each other. There were little metal lights fixed at the sides of the path. Once they would have provided welcome illumination in the shadow-filled trail, but it was a while since they'd worked. Now the fixtures had become home to the spiders that spun webs across the glass.
At the far end, there was a building the size of a warehouse. A white banner hung from the side of it,
though one of the nails had come loose and the fabric flapped against the brickwork. The banner read ‘Welcome to Loch-Deep Meditation Retreat. Find Your Inner Calm.’
Ed heard a shrill hissing sound carried by the wind. He looked around and saw that some infected were emerging from behind the cabins and trees, and slowly making their way to them.
