“This is so dangerous,” Ernest said.
Clementine was the first to squeeze between two Spinners.
“Quickly!” Bill said.
The Flowers dashed forward, but the Spinners closed the gap. One by one the animals slipped through the Spinners’ defences, but each time, the family was blocked.
Gwek!
Clementine stood on the other side of the raging Spinner army.
“Clementine got through to the other side!” Ernest said. “Damn, I could have ridden her through!”
“You would have slowed her down,” Bill said.
“Still…” Ernest said.
“It looks like Lightfoot and Lightning got through too,” Jack said.
“Happy days,” Bill said drily.
“We’re going to have to jump,” Liz said. “It’s a long way down, but we might be able to make it.”
“What about the blood?” Bill said.
“It’s still better than heading into that,” Liz said, pointing at the Spinner army.
“At least the fall and the rocks will be over quick,” Ernest said. “Not like getting torn to pieces.”
“Wait,” Bill said. “There might be another way. Hold my legs!”
Liz pressed on them as Bill lay down and crawled over the precipice, hanging upside down. The water raged and billowed, roaring and reaching up like a bird ruffling its feathers.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it fast,” Fritz said, stepping forward and pushing against the Spinners with his shield.
Bill peered at the cliff face. There were no ledges jutting out from its surface.
Damn! It was their one way out. Bill ran a dirty hand through his hair at the realisation that this was the end. His throat burned and he felt the tears well up behind his eyes. He shook his head and forced a relaxed expression onto his face. He gripped the underside of the cliff to push himself back.
He paused. He felt at the rough material his fingers had instinctively grasped onto. A tint of moonlight caught an entwined rope of white roots. It curled under the ledge and ran between the cracks and fissures in the cliff face. Bill pulled at the root rope. It tore free of the soil. Bill pressed all his weight onto their base, where they met the earth. They stayed firm and did not come loose. Bill grinned like a man who had discovered gold. He pushed himself back up onto the surface.
“What did you find?” Liz said. “A way out?”
“Maybe,” Bill said. “Jack, come here. I’m going to lower you over the side. You’re going to grab the roots and climb down them. I want you to pull them free as far as you can.”
“But-” Jack said.
“We haven’t got time for questions,” Bill said. “Just do your best.”
Bill lowered Jack over the side.
“It’s right there in front of you,” Bill said. “Grab it. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Jack said.
He monkey-barred along the roots, pulling them down with his weight. They pulled free as he climbed, drawing out into a long rope.
“Good,” Bill said. “Now, climb down to the bottom.” He turned to Fritz and Ernest. “You boys next!”
“You should go first,” Fritz said to Liz.
“You go,” Liz said. “We’ll be along in a minute.”
Fritz and Ernest dropped their shields and climbed down the root rope. First Fritz, then Ernest.
“Your turn,” Bill said to Liz.
She shook her head.
“Just go!” Bill said.
Liz knelt and began to climb over the side. Bill held his battered shield out, smacking the Spinners aside when they got too close. The blows came as a flurry, like heavy rain on a tin roof. His heels were balanced on the cliff edge like a gymnast on a balance beam. A fat Spinner with large flabby arms struck Bill’s shield, knocking him back. He teetered on the edge, waving his arms to keep balanced.
“Bill!” Liz said. “Hurry!”
Bill found his centre. A grin spread across his face.
“I’ll come down now,” he said.
The fat Spinner cracked Bill over the head with its bony knee. Bill’s eyes rolled back and his body went limp. He fell forward, the Spinner close behind.
“Bill!” Liz screamed. “Bill! No!”
She reached for him, but her arm was too short, her fingertips grazing his shirt. Alerted by the scream, Fritz stretched out his own arm. His hand snapped around Bill’s ankle. Fritz braced himself for the sharp tug he knew would follow. There was a crack, as something tore inside his shoulder. Fritz let out a roar that was primal, deep and pained, but kept hold of his father.
There was another crack, this one at the top of the root rope, which dropped a foot before catching and holding. Fritz clenched his teeth, his father swinging in his hand, upside down.
The Spinners eased over the cliff edge, spinning in an acrobatic display as they fell through the air. It must have been what it was like to see it snow in hell.
Chapter Sixteen
FRANCIS HEARD a snort from somewhere behind the Spinner. It made him blink, a whisker-thin crack forming in the façade of his shock. He pursed his lips, pressing them together until they turned white. He blew a thin strand of air through them, a feeble intermittent wheeze.
The Spinner was so close Francis could smell the rotting flesh hanging from his bones, could feel the pus-saturated stink brush against him as its clawed hand passed within inches of his face.
Francis pressed his lips together again, his lips dry. This time he performed something at least resembling a whistle.
But nothing happened.
Francis curled up into a ball, his last bastion of protection. The creature made a sound, a wheeze in the back of its throat, the flap of skin slapping its headless neck. He reached for Francis. The hand jolted forward and then stopped, inches from Francis’s nose. The ragged fingertips juddered forward and then pulled back.
Francis opened his eyes and peered up at the creature, its limbs still flailing. It was two feet off the ground, a long spike through its chest.
Valiant shook his head and threw the Spinner off to one side. The creature wasn’t dead, but twisted and crumpled on the ground. Valiant stepped in front of Francis and lowered his nostrils to the small boy, his breath blowing Francis’s hair back from his face. Francis smiled and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the bull’s head, feeling its heat through his clothes.
Francis got to his feet and led the bull out of the pen, closing the gate behind them. The Spinner spun in circles, banging against the fence posts, for the moment unable to break free. Francis poked his tongue out at it.
“Serves you right,” he said.
In the clearing, arranged on a large worktable strewn with woodchips and sawdust, was Valiant’s armour. Francis began affixing it to him piece by piece. Then he put his own armour on. He climbed onto the great bull’s wide back and into the saddle.
He turned Valiant to face the jungle that grew dark with the death of the sun. The baby of the Flowers would be adding to his family’s ranks. He was a man now, a Flower man. He had proven himself. Francis had a smile on his face. He flicked the reins.
Chapter Seventeen
“I CAN’T hold on!” Fritz said, the sweat running down his face.
“Is your father conscious?” Liz said.
“No,” Jack said.
At the bottom of the root rope, Jack was almost eye to eye with his unconscious upside-down father.
“I’ll come down and give you a hand!” Liz said.
“Stop!” Fritz said through clenched teeth.
“Why?” Liz said.
Fritz’s whole body was covered with protruding veins and arteries. He couldn’t spare the energy to explain.
“The rope moves when you climb,” Ernest said. “It makes it harder for Fritz to hold on.”
“But Fritz needs help!” Liz said. “He can’t hold on by himself!”
“Jack,” Ernest said.
“Yeah?”
“Can you see any more strong
root rope like we’re holding onto?” Ernest said.
Jack peered around at the cliff face.
“No,” he said. “But there’s a bit on the bottom of this rope we can use. Why?”
“Can you cut some of it off?” Ernest said.
“With what?” Jack said.
“Anything,” Ernest said.
“I haven’t got anything to cut it with!” Jack said.
“Use your T-shirt then,” Ernest said. “Take it off and then climb—slowly—up and tie Fritz’s hand to Father’s leg.”
“Why?” Jack said.
“I’ll do the same with Fritz’s hand holding the root rope here,” Ernest said. “That way, Fritz can keep hold of Father easier.”
“But this is my favourite T-shirt,” Jack said.
“I think there are more pressing concerns right now,” Ernest said.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Jack grumbled. “It’s not your favourite T-shirt.”
Jack unfastened his armour and let it fall into the raging sea. Then he took his T-shirt off.
“Now what?” he said.
“Climb up the rope,” Ernest said. “Slowly. And tie Fritz’s hand and Father’s leg together as tight as you can.”
Fritz let out a gasp.
“I can’t hold on!” he said.
“Quickly!” Ernest said, climbing down the rope. “Hurry!”
Jack climbed up the rope. An experienced climber, it was easy for him. Fritz’s arm was violently shaking. The veins stood out on his forearms, his muscles strained all over his body. The sea beat on the sharp rocks below, roaring and angry.
Jack wrapped his T-shirt around Fritz’s hand and his father’s leg, but his T-shirt was too small. He sighed and held his T-shirt in his teeth and tore strips out of it. He wrapped them around Fritz’s hand and Bill’s leg, winding it tight like a boxer with bandages on his fists. Jack pulled on the ends with his bodyweight to make them as tight as he could.
“Is that all right?” Jack said.
Fritz grunted to the affirmative. Ernest did the same with his T-shirt around Fritz’s other hand.
“Okay Fritz,” Ernest said. “You can relax, but not too much otherwise you’ll dislocate your shoulder.”
Fritz’s muscles slowly unclenched, and he let out a sigh of relief.
“No worries there,” he said. “I think my arm already is dislocated.”
Another Spinner fell through the sky to the sea below.
“Now all we do is wait?” Fritz said.
“Actually, no,” Ernest said. “We’ve got another problem. I’ve been watching this rock, and it seems to be moving up…”
At the top of the rope, Liz heard the tearing sound of the root rope’s strands snap one by one from the soil.
“The roots are coming loose!” Liz said.
“How long do you think we have?” Ernest said.
“I don’t know,” Liz said.
Two more Spinners sailed over the edge.
“Are there many Spinners left up there?” Ernest said.
“I’ll check,” Liz said, fearing she already knew the answer.
She pulled herself up and peered over the edge. Her breath caught in her throat. She pressed her forehead to the rock.
“Well?” Ernest said. “How many are there?”
“A lot,” Liz said.
Another strand snapped and the rope sank another two inches.
“Any idea how to stop the rope from breaking?” Liz said.
“We need some way to reduce the weight,” Ernest said. “Unless someone wants to sacrifice themselves…” He saw the look in Liz’s eye. “Don’t you dare! I was joking!”
“I’ll do it if it’s the only way,” Liz said, voice cold and distant. She meant it.
“No, wait,” Ernest said, wracking his brain. “There’s another way. Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you reach the cliff wall?” Ernest said.
“No, not quite,” Jack said.
“How far away from you is it?” Ernest said.
“About three inches from the end of my toes,” Jack said. “If I swing on the rope I could make it.”
“No, don’t do that,” Ernest said. “Describe the cliff face to me.”
“It’s rough, with lots of small holes for toe and handholds,” Jack said. “I’d love to climb it one day.”
“But not today,” Ernest said. He turned to Liz. “Mother, can you reach one of the shields we were using before? The ones we were using up there?”
Liz pulled herself up to peek over the cliff again. A Spinner kicked dust in her eyes and then careened over the side. She shook her head clear of the dirt. Spinners were bunched together tight with little room to manoeuvre. Two shields sat amongst the jostling Spinner feet. A Spinner started left, bumping into a comrade, kicking a shield, sending it skimming across the ground and over the edge, where it floated like a Frisbee on the sea’s updraft. Only one shield remained.
“I’ll try,” Liz said.
She let out a puff of air, focused her mind, and then pulled herself up onto the ledge. She crouched, right on the edge. The shield lay out in the open ten feet away. She hustled toward it.
A Spinner rushed forward. Liz backed away. The Spinner stopped, turning in place as if considering which way to go. Liz glanced at the shield, the Spinner’s foot resting on it.
The Spinner turned, and the shield slid across the ground. Liz watched the other Spinners, pushing, pulling and buffeting one another. The Spinner darted forward, toward Liz, who dived aside. The Spinner went over the side, the shield kicked by a Spinner wearing a rugby shirt. Another Spinner, this one in skinny jeans, smacked the shield, like they were playing a game of football.
A Spinner with a missing leg dashed forward on its hands. Liz sidestepped as it came at her. It turned and swiped at her. She ducked, and rolled aside. She bent down to pick the shield up, but another Spinner kicked it. Liz’s eyes went wide as it skidded toward the edge. Liz held her breath. The shield came to a stop, teetering on the very edge of the cliff. Liz barely breathed for fear it might cause the shield to topple. She looked at the Spinners. Two burst forward. Liz ran.
She dived for the shield, kicking up a cloud of dirt. The shield began to tip over. Liz slapped her hand on top of the shield, holding it in place. The Spinners fell on her. Liz seized the shield and threw it up. The edge caught the fist of one Spinner, knocking its arm back. The other Spinner’s stub of a leg smacked Liz in the ribs.
Liz was ready for the sudden loss of air as it evacuated her lungs. She brought the shield up as a Spinner’s foot came down, blocking it. Liz got to her knees and held the shield for the next incoming blow, this one from the first Spinner, an elbow to the face, but Liz blocked it. She got to her feet, attached the shield to her forearm, and ran back to the edge where the root rope lay.
A dozen Spinners were on her tail. She performed a baseball slide, letting gravity pull her over the side. She seized the root rope, and a series of strands snapped at once, like the crunch of a tooth when it’s pulled by a butcher dentist. The rope slipped another six inches. Three more Spinners fell over the side.
“Did you get it?” Ernest said.
Liz handed the shield to him, still panting with exertion. Her body was shaking. She couldn’t believe she was still in one piece.
“Jack?” Ernest said.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to drop a shield,” Ernest said. “You need to catch it. Here it comes!”
Jack caught it.
“Thanks,” Jack said. “Now what?”
“Jam it into the rock and use it to stand on,” Ernest said. “Mother, you should hang from the cliff edge. When you get tired I’ll take over.”
“Unfortunately I don’t think we’ve got that long,” Liz said.
“Why’s that?” Ernest said.
“Because the roots are breaking even faster than before,” Liz said.
Ernest looked at the sparkling rocks in
the cliff face. She was right. They were slipping. Liz hung from the cliff, suspending her weight, but it made no difference. Ernest peered down at the sea roaring below them.
“Our number’s up,” he said, the realisation and its consequences dawning on him.
There was a scream from the cliff. Liz pulled herself up on weak arms.
“No!” she said.
“What is it?” Ernest said.
“It’s… It’s…” Liz said, disbelieving her eyes.
It was Francis, on the back of a huge mass of muscle. Valiant tore through the Spinner ranks, tossing them aside with his great horns, and viciously kicking at them with his hind legs. The Spinners beat at the bull, but it did nothing but force the bull into greater anger. The bull’s nostrils flared.
Francis had to pull on the reins to stop Valiant from trampling the creatures and risk them tearing at the bull’s soft underbelly. The huge beast responded to each of Francis’s delicate touches. A Spinner flew over the edge, flapping its arms like a new born chick trying to fly. Valiant’s great horns caught the Spinners’ limbs and tore them out like they were scarecrows made of damp straw. Within a few short minutes the cliff was empty of Spinners.
Liz pulled herself up onto the cliff and hugged Francis tight, kissing him a dozen times in as many seconds.
“My beautiful brave boy!” she said.
“Mum…” Francis said in an embarrassed tone.
“Bring Valiant to the edge,” Ernest said.
Valiant gripped the root rope in his teeth.
“Okay,” Liz said. “Move backward. Very slowly.”
The rope came up with no difficulty to the great bull. Fritz came up first, hand still clamped around his father’s leg. Bill was still unconscious. Jack came up last. Liz moved to Fritz, who was drenched in sweat.
“Are you all right?” Liz said.
“Yes,” Fritz said, clutching his arm. “I think it’s just dislocated.”
“We’d better wake your father so he can pop it back in,” Liz said.
“Before that, let’s get out of here,” Fritz said, “before these things put us in another spin.”
Chapter Eighteen
Flowers vs. Zombies (Book 3): Contagion Page 20
