My body flies sideways, machete flying from my grip as I slam into the floor. Crushing weight pins me and releases a thunderous roar. I thrash, arms shaking to hold back the weight of the infected that is snapping at my face.
“Drew” I scream. A crack, whoosh of a bullet. The infected collapses on top of me, eyes blank, blood oozing down my cheek. I shove him aside, blinking away tears as Drew pulls me to my feet.
“Go” he yells, shoving me ahead once more. Pulling myself together I throw myself at the back door, chilled air freezing the salty tears against my skin. The relief is short lived as more infected pour down the alley, crazed and feral, screaming as they barrel towards us. Instinct forces me to move, hurtling through mounds of filth, feet threatening to tangle as I flee. A wall rears up ahead of us and I speed up, throwing myself up and over before I can think about it. My ankle jars as I crash into the pavement, Drew’s boots slamming down beside me. Hand around my elbow he half drags me, his progress slow as I try to run, pain lancing through my foot.
My teeth grind into one another, the sound of the horde growing closer as I slow us down, ankle giving way under my weight. I stumble, knees smacking into the concrete. Drew releases my arm, swinging around to fire. Sweat beads along my hair, saturating my neck when I try to stand. Get up, my mind screams. Click. Click. Drew curses, throwing the gun aside and lifting me from the floor, swinging me into his arms as he breaks into a run.
I hold my breath, against the pain, against the fear, my body jarring with every step he takes. The fence comes into view, the gate hanging open, hinges squeaking in the breeze. I will him forwards, praying to any god that’s listening as the sound of the horde at our backs grows closer.
Drew lunges forwards, shoulder crashing into the gate, my head knocking against the chain link. I peer over his shoulder, see the mass of the infected caught up in the cordon. Drew keeps running, his breathing laboured, jaw clenched. A door stands ajar to our right and he throws me from his arms. The air rushes from my lungs when I hit the floor, back protesting the rough landing. My head snaps around in time to see him throw the door closed, his back pressed against it. Adrenaline still courses through my veins, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I push to my feet and limp to the door to press my back to the wood. We exchange a glance. Body after body slams into our backs, feral roars ripping through the wood. I grit my teeth, ankle protesting as we push back.
“They’re gonna get through” I cry, straining against the pressure. Drew turns, eyes scanning the room, his face red as veins bulge in his forehead.
“Hold the door.” He leaps away. I adjust my stance, my body rocking forward with every new body that piles against the splintering wood. A scream of frustration tears from my lips as I thrust back, screwing my eyes tight. Scraping against the floor pulls my eyes open. Drew’s face is taut as he heaves, shoving against a large mahogany cabinet, his progress slow even with the adrenaline that forces his movements.
“I can’t hold it much longer.” I yell, another thrust shoving me further into the room. Drew lets rip a roar, the cabinet sliding forwards, a foot shy of the door. My ankle threatens to give way and I scream, one last push, sheer force of will holding them back. The cabinet shoves me aside, sliding into place to bar the door.
“It won’t hold them for long. Come on.” Drew grabs my arm once more and we take off through the house, teeth grinding against the waves of pain rolling up my leg. Shoving me ahead of him he drives me toward the back door. I throw it open, stomach lurching as I tumble down the steps. Drew smacks into my back as he does the same. He staggers to his feet, head whipping around, ready for the next threat.
Pushing to my knees I grab the railing, noticing for the first time the blood that coats my hands. Splinters protrude from the soft flesh of my palm and nausea washes over me. Drew whispers my name, beckons for me to follow. Swallowing hard I hobble after him, my boot growing tighter and tighter, the ache bringing tears to my eyes.
We move from garden to garden, nipping into the cover of shrubs and trees. Exhaustion sweeps through my limbs, the adrenaline that flooded my system draining away the closer we get to home. When we step onto the stoop of our building, emotion takes over and tears leak from my eyes and carves paths in the dirt that coats my cheeks. Drew doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around my waist and helps me climb the stairs, patiently waiting for me to catch my breath at every landing.
Drew locks the deadbolts and rests his forehead against the door. I allow the exhaustion to finally take hold, collapsing onto the sofa in a heap, all the pain I tried to ignore now engulfing me like fire. Drew rubs my back in comforting circles, whispering words meant to soothe as heart wrenching sobs I can’t stop surge from my lips.
My body is wracked with fatigue by the time the tears run out. I rub the back of my hand under my nose and push up onto my elbows. Drew is stood by the window, face grave as he stares out the window to the street below. His eyes flick towards me as I sit up, wincing at the sting in my palms.
“I know you didn’t want to leave but… I think we’re out of options.”
Four
- I’ll Catch You -
Drew pours over a map, brow furrowed and mouth moving silently as he traces an invisible line with his finger. My mouth is dry, leg bouncing anxiously as I sit beside him and pick at a loose thread on my bandaged hands. The infected that were once contained inside the fence of quarantine zone one now moan beyond our window. For the last three nights I have lain awake, listening to their guttural roars as they beat each other. Jerking as they crash through the surrounding buildings, destroying anything and everything in their path. Though I liked to fool myself, this day was inevitable. Eventually we had to go searching beyond the safety of these streets in pursuit of something, whether it be food or medicine. As much as I would have liked, we couldn’t hide from them forever.
“I think I’ve figured it out.” His voice snaps me from my musings and I look up to meet his concerned gaze, feel my chest collapse as I hide behind an uncertain smile. Drew returns it, patting my shoulder. “I know you’re scared. I am too but this is out of our hands now. Whether we like it or not it’s not safe here… not anymore.” I nod, casting my eyes across the map as I blink furiously to clear the moisture that blurs my vision.
I clear my throat, pull the map across the table. “Ok, talk me through it.”
He hesitates, gaze burning into the side of my face then launches into his plan. I try to listen, try to take it in but my brain is reluctant, unable to process the information. A huge drop lands on the map. I try to cover it with my hand but he’s already seen it, enfolding me his arms and resting his chin on top of my head. I don’t want to be weak and scared but the very idea of going out there. Venturing into the unknown sets my nerves on edge and my whole body shakes with anxiety I can’t contain.
“We’ll be fine. As long as we have each other, everything will be okay.” I want to believe him, I really do, and I wish for once I could blindly follow him without question. Be brave, but I can’t. It’s not who I am. My lip quivers as I pull away, wiping my cheeks and forcing the brave face I’ve hidden behind for most of my life. Drew shoots me a sad smile, thumbs brushing the moisture from my face. “I’d never let anything happen to you. You believe me, don’t you?”
I nod, my throat so clogged with emotion that words fail me. With his crystalline blue eyes, so full of earnest and concern, how could I not believe him? Clearing my throat, I sit a little straighter, blow a sigh through my lips and turn back to the map. I can do this. I can.
“So, what do we need before we go?” My voice shakes but at least it’s working. I avoid looking at him, knowing if I do the tears will start again and right now, I need to be strong. To dig deep inside and find whatever it is that has held me together so far.
“Well…” he pulls out a pen and notepad, his scrawl littering the page. “We have food, and bottled water so that’s not a concern. We’ll need to scavenge what we can along the way bu
t we should have enough for the first leg.” He pauses, tapping the pen against his stubbled chin. “We’re gonna need a tent, sleeping bags and, if we can find them anywhere, some decent hiking boots and waterproofs, things like that…” he trails off, peering at me through his lashes.
I stand up, avoiding the window as I move gingerly on my busted ankle towards the bedroom. When Jenna and I were doing our degree, we were pretty much broke all the time. While our classmates would go off on holidays to Magaluf and Ibiza, we would go camping in Hyde Park. Not exactly wild but some of my favourite memories comprise of roasting marshmallows on sticks over a roaring fire, telling ghost stories and tuneless sing alongs to Dan’s guitar.
I wrench open the closet and dig amongst the mass of clutter. I wince at the sting in my hands as I wrap them around fabric, pulling hard, jaw clenched. Drew touches my arm, moving me aside and tugging until the sleeping bags come free. I point to the tent, tucked away in the corner and he climbs in, reappearing with the tent held victoriously above his head. Limping back to the living room I tick the items off his list, scanning the rest as I tap the pen against the pad.
“So, what’s left? Hiking boots, waterproofs… a hatchet?” I turn to look at him and he shrugs.
“It would come in handy but not essential.” He dumps the sleeping bags on the sofa and heads to the window, pulling back the curtain to look down at the street. “To be honest, I don’t think we have a hope in hell of scavenging for anything else. We may have to work with what we’ve got and hope we can pick up other things once we get out of London.”
Once we get out of London, I swallow the wave of nausea and focus my attention back on the list. One step at a time. That’s the only way I’m going to get through this.
As Jenna would say, live in the moment.
……
Drew adjusts the fastenings on my pack, running his finger between my shoulders and the thick woven straps. Its heavy but not unbearable. We’ve managed to scrape together some of the things he insisted we needed for the journey, the rest we’ll have to find later. While Drew sorts his own pack I take one last look at my apartment, a strange sorrow settling in my chest as my eyes wander over the photos; the mementos I can’t take with me. I’ll never come back here. Never again see the pale blue walls Jenna and I took an age to paint. We were always very easily distracted. The furniture we chose together. My half-hearted attempt at scrap booking still laid on the side table, never to be picked up again.
We’re going to leave the door unlocked, should anyone in need of somewhere safe stumble across it. Hopefully this will provide the sanctuary for them that is has for me. I reach into my pocket, pull out the folded photograph, my chest constricting at the faces that smile up from the creased paper. It was the last picture of me and mum together. One thing I couldn’t leave behind. We were happy then, laughing as she blows out the candles on her sloppily made birthday cake. It was the last birthday she would ever get to celebrate.
“You ready?” Drew asks over my shoulder. I nod, shoving the photograph back in my pocket and painting on the bravest face I can muster. He leads the way, shoving the furniture aside and flicking the deadbolts. I draw my knife, my machete lost in the quarantine zone, and follow him out into the hall. The door clicks shut behind me.
The journey out to the street is the most nerve wracking thing I’ve ever done. Knowing that they’re out there, waiting for us to emerge, scares the shit out of me. I’m determined to keep a cool head. My ankle is still tender but if it came down to it, I could run. I’d run like hell if it meant escaping death. I’m not ready to die, not yet.
Drew pauses at the door, opening it a crack to peer out. Anxiety has me jumping from foot to foot, chewing my bottom lip while I wait for the all clear. It doesn’t come. It was never really going to. Drew opens the door the rest of the way, folding into a crouch as he darts for cover behind the low wall that encompasses the building. I follow swiftly, hunkering down behind him as I wait for the next move. Their groans float on the breeze, curling around my insides. A roar makes me jump but I bite back a yelp, daring to peer over the brick to see two infected locked in a battle to the death. Others turn to watch, to join in and Drew jumps the wall, jogging quietly to the end of the road with me hot on his heels.
We move through the city like this, cover to cover, making slow progress until we reach the barricade the army put in place when those in power could no longer hide the fact that the world was going to shit. A huge wall of solid concrete stands at least seven feet tall, casting a big black shadow over the street. Graffiti blemishes the grey barrier, a mixture of pleas for help and end of the world propaganda. I avert my eyes as we move closer, unable to look upon the skeletons slumped against the barriers, some of which with missing limbs. Whether they were torn off by infected or animals I don’t know and I don’t want to.
I wait off to one side, eyes fixed firmly on the street as Drew checks the weapons strewn across the floor. These were soldiers, once. They were here to protect us, serving their country against an enemy like no other. An invisible enemy that tore the world apart. An enemy we just couldn’t fight. How do we survive in a world where even highly trained soldiers fell?
The scuff of Drew’s boots makes me turn. He gestures for me to follow, handing me his pack. I let it dangle from my hand as he heads towards an abandoned truck. He rams his elbow through the glass, clearing the rest with his sleeve before unlocking the door. I keep watch, fearing the infected will come running at the noise we are making. Thankfully the street stays quiet and I turn back to Drew. He’s inside the truck, testing the engine though he knows it won’t work. Through the window I see him a shrug and I smile. Releasing the handbrake, he steers the truck towards the barricade, bones crunching beneath the tyres.
I close the distance between us, handing him back his pack along with my own. He swings his back on his shoulders, adjusting the straps and then sweeps his arms towards the truck in a gentlemanly fashion.
“Ladies first…” he grins. I can’t help but smile, accepting his offered hand as I climb up onto the bonnet. It dips and shifts beneath my feet. I hold out my arms to steady myself. The wall is still pretty high. I back up to the windshield, suck in a deep breath and then I’m launching myself at the wall, fingers fumbling on the rough concrete, knees knocking against the hard surface. Drew shouts words of encouragement as I heave myself upwards, boots scuffing as I scrabble to the top on shaking arms. My face is hot, my cheeks probably scarlet with the strain. Straddling the barricade, I tuck in my knees for balance as Drew throws up the packs. I dangle them by their straps on the other side, as far down as I can before I let them drop. They hit the ground with a thud and I turn back to Drew, feel the blood drain from my face.
Words fail me, my mouth opening and closing as I try to find my voice. Drew looks up, turns to follow my alarmed gaze. A string of expletives rolls from his tongue as he jumps up onto the bonnet. A mob of infected covers the distance in seconds, smashing into the truck, the whole thing rocking while Drew tries to balance. Leaning as far as I dare I stretch out my arm, reaching for him as he flails, arms thrown out for stability while he dodges the hands that grab for him.
“Drew” I shout, drawing his attention upwards. Pushing off the bonnet he leaps towards me, his hand wrapping in mine. I tilt forwards, dragged down by his weight. My other hand slaps the concrete, teeth grinding as I pull back. The crazed climb up onto the bonnet, latching onto his legs, heaving against me. A scream rips from my lips as I throw my body the opposite way, feeling my joints pop and threaten to snap straight out of the socket. Drew scrabbles upwards, hand latching over the top of the barricade, legs kicking to detach the hands wrapped around them. I tug as hard as I can, heaving him up beside me, my brow coated in sweat.
The infected scream with rage at their failed kill, jumping to reach us. I flip my leg over the barricade, stomach lurching at the drop below. Drew does the same but without hesitation drops to the pavement, stumbling a few steps as
he lands. Spinning back around he holds open his arms.
“Lou, jump. I’ll catch you.” I glance over my shoulder, see our attackers climbing over each other to scale the barricade. I spin back, close my eyes and drop, colliding with Drew in a tangled heap. I extricate myself, grabbing my pack as I stand and throwing it onto my shoulders as we break into a run. Drew is close behind, the screams fading the farther we go.
After a few hours, we stop for a break. I shrug off my pack, rubbing the tender skin of my shoulders as Drew hands me a bottle of water. Sweat runs in rivulets down my back, tendrils of hair sticking to my damp forehead. I chug the water and rub the back of my hand across my mouth as I squint against the low sun. Open fields surround us, the ever-reaching pillars of London left behind. No turning back.
Drew pulls out the map as I sit beside him. Something has been niggling at the back of my mind but his enthusiasm thus far has prevented me from voicing it. Now he sits in quiet contemplation and the words find their way out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“If Haven is real…” he looks up, eyes narrowing. “Where is it?”
Drew scowls at the map, lips moving silently. At first, I think he’s not going to answer. I turn back to the open fields holding in a sigh that burns in my chest.
“It’s in Scotland.” He finally answers. Turning to look at him I open my mouth, another question poised on my tongue. “The woman that spoke during the transmission, she was Scottish. That must mean they’re in Scotland.”
I drop my face into my hands. “Drew…” I sigh. “Just because she had a Scottish accent does not mean she’s in Scotland. I hate to break it to you, but that could mean she’s anywhere in the country.”
The Infected Page 3
