Chokehold

by David Moody

  Matt picks himself up, the seconds ticking, and gestures for Jason to get up and help him. “There’s a corpse in that Citroën over there,” he says. “Get it into the driver’s seat of the Fiat.”

  Jason sees where this is going, and he does as he’s ordered. Much of its weight has rotted away. He screws up his face in disgust, trying to ignore the repellent smell and the nauseating, puttylike feel of corrupted flesh between his fingers as he manhandles the cadaver from one car to the other. Matt hunts around for another corpse and finds one that’s little more than bones, which he shoves in the seat next to the first. “Have to assume they saw both of us.”

  At the back of the Fiat, he prizes the fuel cap open and plugs it with rags taken from the Citroën owner’s gym bag.

  “What do I do now?” Jason asks.

  “Get out of sight and stay there.”

  Matt searches his pockets for his lighter, then sets fire to the parchment-dry cloth. Once he’s sure it’s caught, he catches up with Jason and pushes him toward the waterlogged wilderness, which stretches out behind the gym. “Just keep moving,” he tells him. Jason doesn’t need to be told twice.

  They’ve barely made it a hundred meters when the car goes up in flames. “You know they’re all going to be heading this way now, don’t you?” Jason says.

  “Yep. That’s what we want.”

  Matt then changes direction abruptly, putting some distance between them and the road. He turns again but keeps walking, now going back the way they’ve just come. They drop down when the ragtag convoy of Haters races past on their way toward the fire, then get up and continue on their way. “They’re dangerous as hell, but they’re so fixated it makes them easy to fool,” Matt explains. “They’ll find the wreck and assume we’re dead, and even if they realize those corpses aren’t ours, it won’t matter. We’ll be long gone.”

  30

  Cambridge

  It’s dark when Bryce returns to Cambridge. The university is quieter than usual. Only the occasional altercation disturbs the uncharacteristic calm. He almost makes it through to Johannson’s private space unchallenged when Myndham appears and blocks his way. “What do you want?”

  “I need to see the boss.”

  “She’s resting. Come back tomorrow.”

  “No, not tomorrow. Now.”

  “Take a hint and fuck off before I—”

  “What’s the problem out here?”

  It’s Johannson. Myndham pussyfoots around the chief, but Bryce isn’t having any of it. “Found something, boss,” he says, breathless. “You need to hear this.”

  “And who the fuck are you?”

  “My name’s Karl Bryce.”

  She stifles a yawn. “And what have you found?”

  “A full-on Unchanged nest.”

  Johannson’s demeanor immediately changes. “Where?”

  “Some RAF base about thirty miles away,” he says, casually gesturing back over his shoulder.

  “And? You killed them?”

  He shuffles uncomfortably. “That’s the thing … they’d already cleared out.”

  “So you woke me up to tell me you found somewhere the Unchanged used to be? Jesus…”

  “No, wait … I know where they went.”

  Johannson chews over this news, and for a time, the only noise is the crackle of the brazier fire, which is failing to take the edge off the cold. “Go on.”

  “They’d not been gone long. Looks like they’ve moved on to another base. There might be a fair number of them out there. Military, by all accounts.”

  “How you getting all this information?”

  “From a grunt. One of my team. He’s a piss-weak nobody who doesn’t have the strength to fight. You know the type.”

  “Yeah, I know the type.”

  “While we’re fighting, he’s mooching around, sticking his nose in.”

  “So what else has he told you?”

  “He followed their tracks to their base, managed to kill a few of them, then realized he was in over his head, so he reported back to me. Probably for the best, because if there’s as many of them there as he reckons, he wouldn’t have stood a chance and we’d be none the wiser.”

  “Who is he again?”

  “Danny McCoyne. You know him?”

  She shrugs. “No idea.”

  “I’m not surprised. He’s the kind of person you can forget about while you’re still talking to them.”

  Johannson manages half a smile. Bryce takes that as a sign he’s making progress, because half a smile is half a smile more than he’s ever seen from the boss lady before.

  “So where does he think they are now?”

  “Not completely sure. They’re clever fuckers, boss. They hide their tracks well. Looks like Pinchy was on to something, though.”

  “Pinchy? What’s that spineless bastard got to do with anything?”

  “Your missing fighters … he told you whereabouts he thought they were disappearing, didn’t he?”

  “So?”

  “So it’s starting to add up. McCoyne says the Unchanged were talking about an outpost on the way into Cambridge, on a main road, he said. If we know where they’re hiding, we can cut them off from all approaches, then flush them out. Choke the life out of them.”

  Johannson gives little away, but Bryce can tell he’s piqued her interest.

  “There’s more,” he says.

  “Go on.”

  “If what my source says is right and this is a military outpost, think about the gear they’ll have. With this joker Thacker trying to muscle in on your patch, that kind of firepower’s only going to help the cause, don’t you think?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  “I know, and the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Take out the Unchanged and get hold of their gear, then we’ll be ready and waiting and tooled up to the nines when Thacker comes back.”

  She thinks for a minute, staring into the brazier.

  “We’ll check it out in the morning,” she finally says, after a delay that feels endless. “Give Myndham all the info you’ve got.”

  Bryce is wrong-footed. She’s walking away.

  “Wait … no, boss, I want to lead this…”

  She stops and turns back.

  “Why would I want you leading anything?”

  “I’ve brought you information.”

  “Like I said, all you’ve done is tell me you found somewhere the Unchanged used to be. Oh, and also that I’ve got someone here who lets the enemy go without killing them.”

  “It’s not like that…”

  She’s not listening. Myndham steps in and gets in the way of Bryce when he tries to stop her. Johannson keeps walking. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Myndham tells him. “Listen to the boss. If you want to help, do what you’re told and be ready to fight.”

  31

  The CDF Outpost

  The exodus from the RAF base took less than an hour, but the journey to the outpost feels like it’s taken forever. Following a predefined plan (they’d been ready for this since day one—it was always going to happen), the group split into three teams and walked to separate vehicles left camouflaged in different locations, each between two and four miles away from Thornhill. The nominated drivers then drove frantically across open countryside, each stopping short of the outpost. The groups waited for hours until they were each sure they hadn’t been followed, then set out on foot along different predetermined routes. Almost eighty people in total have today joined the hundreds already here.

  Estelle Bisseker is up on the observation deck with Chappell and Moira. “You’ve exposed us, turning up like this,” Chappell says.

  “You think they had a choice?” Moira snaps at him, equally angry.

  “Remember your rank, soldier.”

  “And with all due respect, remember who we’re talking about, sir. I’ve served under Estelle for years.”

  “I’m not interested in years; all I care about is the here and now
. And I know the two of you have history, but history has no precedent for what we’re dealing with today.”

  “They took every precaution, followed all the protocols.”

  “You led the best part of a hundred people cross-country. They will have left tracks; it’s inevitable.”

  “You’re probably right. And if they find us, we’ll deal with them.”

  “How? We don’t know what kind of numbers they’ll have.”

  Estelle has remained quiet so far, but she’s in no mood to take this crap. “Listen, Greg, if you don’t like it, then you can bugger off. If you can’t take the pressure, then relinquish your post and go sit this out with the civvies.”

  “Come on, Estelle,” he says. “We’re all on the same side here.”

  “It was always the plan to move everyone here from Thornhill; we just thought we might have had a little more time before it happened. Now we’re here, and we need to focus on the positives.”

  “There are positives?”

  “Yes. We’re all in one place now, and we’re safe. There are more of us here than we’d expected. We’re in a far stronger position than we’d thought we would be.”

  “What exactly happened back there? Aaron said there was a Hater in the base? Tell me that’s not true.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How?”

  “Wily little shit snuck in unannounced. Didn’t make a noise. By all accounts, he’d been in the infirmary for some time before we found him out.”

  “So he could hold the Hate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did he wait so long to react?” Moira asks. “I could have understood it if he’d been waiting for reinforcements to arrive, but he was alone, wasn’t he?”

  “That’s right. He only showed himself after he was challenged.”

  Chappell’s confused. “Challenged?”

  “One of the new arrivals recognized him.”

  “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s not here now. He was a pain in the backside, always sticking his nose in uninvited.”

  “Good job he did. Sounds like he saved a lot of lives.”

  “Possibly. To be honest, I believe the Hater was just looking for a way out of the fighting. It doesn’t come so naturally to all of them.”

  “And he was definitely alone?”

  “As far as we’re aware.”

  “But there could have been more of them?”

  “Almost certainly.”

  “And you’re sure about your new recruits? They’re all clean?”

  “Yes. Aaron vouched for them. He tested them before they were allowed anywhere near the base. Look, we’ve left Thornhill an empty place. There’s no indication of how we left or where we were going. There’s very little chance they’ll find us.”

  “You think? The Hater that got away, he could have overheard anything while he was with you.”

  “All the more reason to get things moving here.”

  “We need to get the new recruits integrated,” Moria suggests. “Show them what’s what and let them know what’s expected of them. See who we’ve got and what they’re capable of.”

  “I can save you the bother, Moira. They’re fit and strong for the most part, but they’re not soldiers.”

  “But you’ll still want them to do a soldier’s job,” Chappell goads.

  “You know the score, Greg. I expect everyone to do their duty.”

  “A couple of minutes ago, you said fighting doesn’t come naturally to everyone. Which way is it going to be? There are kids here, Estelle.”

  “Everyone will be expected to contribute. What’s the alternative? Look, I understand your reticence, but we don’t have any choice. We have to see this through if we want any chance of ever leading normal lives again.”

  “Normal lives?” Chappell says, trying not to laugh. “Christ, Estelle, I think we can all kiss the prospect of a normal life goodbye, don’t you? Anything resembling normality disappeared the minute the first Hater appeared on the streets and started killing. Look, isn’t it about time we started being honest with these people?”

  “And tell them I’m going to send them out to war? Look, we all hope it won’t come to that. The enemy doesn’t know we’re here, but thanks to Moira and the others, we have a pretty good idea where they’re based and how many there are. With the element of surprise on our side, we’ll launch an offensive and wipe them out. With a little luck and a lot of determination and effort, we’ll have eradicated what’s left of the Haters before a single civilian has to get involved.”

  “I hope it’s as clear-cut as you make it sound.”

  “It will be,” Moira says, agreeing with Estelle. “They’re not expecting it. We’ve enough firepower to wipe them off the map, and as Estelle says, they have no bloody idea what’s coming. They strut up and down out there like the planet’s theirs for the taking, but it’s not. We’re taking it back.”

  “You sound like a pair of fanatics,” Chappell says.

  “I need you onside, Greg. Lose the attitude.”

  “Listen, Estelle, you’ve got my support,” Chappell says. “I might not agree with everything you tell me, but you’re the boss, and I’ll follow your orders.”

  “Good to hear, because despite what you might think, I have the best interests of this entire group at heart. God help any Haters who get in our way.”

  “I think God stopped paying attention a long time back.”

  32

  Nowhere

  “It’ll be light soon.”

  “I know.”

  “You said dark was good.”

  “It is.”

  “So we need to get under cover, don’t we?”

  “Just keep moving. Less talking, more walking.”

  Matt and Jason have walked through the night, finding the main road into Cambridge and following it east. They’ve been parallel to the wide tarmac strip for hours, moving at a snail’s pace, keeping out of sight in the scrub, stopping and hiding whenever they’ve heard or seen anything that might be the enemy. To Matt, each step has felt like it had when he’d walked alone all those months ago, every minute a painful reminder of all that he’s lost. The fact Jason’s here and not Jen serves only to rub salt into the wounds. It’s his fault she’s dead, he keeps thinking, and he can’t shake that thought. Until now, he’s had other people to distract him, but now there’s just the two of them. And it doesn’t matter what Jason did or didn’t do. It’s all compounded by the guilt Matt feels when he thinks about Kara.

  “We’ve been walking for ages,” Jason says.

  “Safest mode of transport these days.”

  “Think we’ve passed it?”

  “What?”

  “The CDF base. Think we’ve missed it?”

  “We haven’t. It’s about twenty miles from Thornhill, and we’re not. Not yet, anyway.”

  “We’re not going to get there before sunup, are we?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Don’t you think we should stop somewhere, then?”

  “There isn’t anywhere.”

  “I’m so fucking hungry, Matt. We haven’t eaten for hours.”

  Matt snaps and turns on Jason. “Will you shut up and just keep moving? The last thing I need right now is your bloody noise.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Yeah, well, don’t. Don’t say anything. Right now, nothing you could possibly say is of any interest to me.”

  He is right, though.

  Matt’s grudgingly forced to admit that being out here like this will become increasingly dangerous as the light improves. They’re both physically and emotionally empty; the kind of slow-build exhaustion that Matt knows through experience will leave them prone to making mistakes. To make matters worse, without knowing exactly where they are in relation to the CDF base, they’re walking blind. There could be hours of walking and many miles still ahead of them. A couple of times, Matt’s considered trying to get a car started, but
he’s worried even the creak of a door opening would be loud enough to be heard from a distance. The noise of an engine would surely let every Hater in the immediate vicinity know exactly where he and Jason are, and to drive to the outpost would, as they’ve already deduced, be the absolute worst thing they could do. He knows they’re going to have to finish this journey on foot, and in order to be able to do that, they’re going to have to stop and rest first.

  * * *

  They’re walking closer to the road again now, but it’s another hour or more before they see a building up ahead. The black of night is rapidly disappearing and is now tinged with gray. Daybreak is close. Whatever this place is, it’s going to have to do.

  Jesus, though, this is better than they’d imagined. For once, it looks like they’ve caught a break.

  They’re approaching a fuel station with a chain hotel behind. It’s the kind of place Matt would have done everything possible to avoid staying in before the war began, but right now it looks like the Savoy.

  “Stay here,” he says to Jason, leaving the other man waiting way back in the evaporating gloom while he checks the site out.

  Getting inside isn’t going to be a problem. The outer reception door has been torn from its hinges and is now sticking out of the unkempt yellowing hedgerow that grows wild around the front of the building. There was a Starbucks here, a separate mismatched building on the other side of the parking lot, but there’s no point looking for food there because the place is just a shell. There’s not one pane of glass left intact as far as Matt can see, and there are bodies everywhere. Long dead. Skeletons wrapped in rags who died fighting.

  The Travelodge looks to have fared slightly better, but not much. Matt’s hesitant. There’s obviously been a shitload of trouble around here at some point, but when? He knows they can’t be too far from Cambridge now. It’s likely there are richer pickings a little way farther down the road, but Matt knows he and Jason don’t need much: food and water and beds to lie on behind a door they can lock.

  He pushes a swinging vestibule door open, then stops in the small, square reception area and listens intently. The hotel is as silent as he’d hoped. The only noise comes from the wind whipping through broken windows, and from a sudden downpour of rain, which clatters against the flat roof. Looks like you made it just in time, sir, the receptionist doesn’t say. Instead, she remains in her seat staring up at the ceiling, dead mouth hanging open. Her skin has the texture of a dried-up apple. Matt climbs over her desk and into her cubicle. Competing for space with the corpse, he forces a drawer open and helps himself to as many room keys as he can find, filling his pockets. He finds a few other things that may prove useful: some tools, other random keys, a wall-mounted first aid kit. There are plenty more things he leaves untouched. A cash tray full of notes and coins. A computer. A fancy-looking phone and a tablet. There are so many things, he thinks, that used to have value but are now worthless.