by Ian Woodhead
Nigel had said that Tim was supposed to be joining them. There was a seat reserved for that slime-ball, but so far, he had not arrived. Mark checked his watch again and saw that the man was still late. This situation seriously confused him. For the life of him, Mark just could not understand why his so-called companion had asked him to join them here when it was obvious that the conspirators had no intentions of bringing him along.
He listened to their low murmurings, trying to work out what they were saying. Every permutation of their reasoning for informing him of their imminent departure just did not work out in his mind. It was obvious that Mark was missing some vital pieces of information.
Their conversation abruptly ceased at the sound of the door leading to the tower block opening. Mark assumed that the last co-conspirator had finally decided to make his fashionably late entrance. He turned around and ducked down, gasping in confusion at the sight of two well-built men bursting through the door and ambling over to Oliver and Nigel.
Mark watched the other scientist jump nervously and take a step back. Nigel scrambled to reach the caravan door, but there was no change in Oliver’s posture. The only difference in Oliver was a sly smile that appeared on the man’s face. It almost seemed as if Oliver was expecting the two strangers.
He had noticed these two a few days ago on one of his rare trips into the tower block. It had been their eyes that had first caught his attention. The deep intense gazes had made his bowels loosen when their stare had caught his.
Mark watched them whilst queuing up for some hot food in the canteen. The two hulking men sat together on a separate table, talking in low tones. He had never seen them before that day. Mark had guessed that they must have come in with the roamer’s last excursion. Then again, seeing new faces was not at all unusual. He never really ventured into the tower block that often. He usually only made the trek when Nigel had annoyed him to the point of homicide or he needed somewhere other than the caravan to think.
Looking around the canteen, he had noticed that he was not the only one who was watching the strangers. Mark had sensed an almost oppressive atmosphere in the room, and he had felt that it was most unpleasant.
People all over the canteen were snatching unobtrusive glances at the two men before turning back to their plates and shuddering in disgust. The observation had confirmed what Mark suspected. The others in the canteen appeared to be equally terrified of the men.
He could thoroughly understand why. Even a full year after the outbreak, everyone was still on edge. Everybody had lost a piece of their souls. Everyone except for maybe Nigel.
The omission showed in the way the people walked, how they looked at each other, the overall attitudes. The relentless burden of death weighed on everyone like a heavy blanket.
These two looked as though they had just been plucked from a nightclub doorway from last year. They had both turned in unison and stared at Mark, and he had snapped his head away and stared down at his metal plate, watching with intense interest as the volunteer assistant filled each compartment with hot food. He had still felt those eyes piercing the back of his head. Mark wanted to drop the plate and run out of the room as fast as he could.
He had honestly felt as though they had wanted to eat him. Then, as abruptly as it began, the feeling of terror had vanished, and the need to void his bladder went away with it. Mark had carried his plate to the table, legs shaking as he sat down, looking at the food that he no longer wanted to eat. He kept a subtle eye on the two men as he shovelled the tasteless mush into his mouth.
After another twenty minutes, Mark had convinced himself that the incident had never even happened. He had still felt a huge sigh of relief flow through the canteen when the pair stood up and strode out of the room.
Mark slid further down the side of the car, feeling that familiar feeling of them wanting to devour him. When the pair both turned and looked across at the car, his heart tried to burst through his ribcage. The larger one of them bellowed out a vicious laugh and strode towards his hiding place.
His only instinct was to run, to bolt through the underground car park and into the supermarket. His leaden arms and legs refused to obey the frantic instructions from his brain. The best he could manage was to slowly lift his head. It felt as heavy as a cannonball as he gazed into the dark eyes of the man that stood above him.
“Here there, little rabbit.” said the man. “I’m called Abel and I am so looking forward to munching you up like a big carrot. I guess that means I should start with your feet.”
“You’re a hunter!” gasped Mark.
Abel chuckled as he grabbed the back of Mark’s collar and pulled him onto his feet. The man then spun Mark around with what seemed like no effort at all.
“We both experienced your mind putting the pieces together while you were waiting for your food in that canteen and yet, you, like the others, refused to accept the truth.”
He dragged Mark around the side of the car. The hunter threw him at the feet of the other man.
“Noah, would you like to have the first bite?”
The other hunter shook his head, obviously losing patience.
“Abel, wait. Lose the bloodlust and open up your thoughts. Tell me what you sense. Can you not feel that?”
Both the hunters stared at Oliver.
“That is fucking impossible!” snarled Abel, “Why can’t I read you?”
Oliver smiled back at the two monsters. His posture was so relaxed, so natural. Mark could not believe what he was seeing. The bastard acted as though he was just passing the time of day with some random stranger.
“Noah," Oliver smiled and pointed like a used car salesman. "May I call you that? I know that is not your original name by the way. I understand that your urge would be to dive on me and rip through my flesh, turning me into a large pile of shredded, steaming meat.”
Noah growled. Mark saw that the monster was actually drooling. He wanted to be sick.
Oliver’s grin widened.
“I do understand your desire, believe me. I’m new to you, an unknown variable.” As Oliver spoke, he rolled up his sleeve exposing his bare arm. “Do you see the teeth marks? A climber did that to me and yet I survived. Granted, I did lose what little empathy I had left towards my own species and I found that none of you blood sucking freaks could get into my head. I really think that we can help each other out. As a token of my sincerity, I’m giving him to you.”
He rolled down his sleeve, and pointed at Mark.
Mark stared aghast, realizing that this was the missing information. He turned his head and threw up.
“What is this bullshit?” Abel growled, ignoring the vomiting man near his feet. “You’re making this up as you go along. Why should we be contented with just this sad specimen when we can have you two as well?”
“Wait,” Noah said. “Oliver is telling the truth. Just look at that little man by your feet, listen to his thoughts."
“You already know of our intentions,” said Oliver. “I’m sure that you would have drained Tim’s thoughts before you ate him.”
“Noah, why are you letting him talk?” Abel took a step towards Oliver, “I suggest that we kill him here and now. I don’t like him very much.”
Noah shook his head, “You are either very clever or very stupid. Explain your motivations or Abel here will devour you.”
Oliver laughed, “Oh my, gentlemen, I’ve been aware of your intrusion into my kingdom from the moment you arrived. Your executions were postponed because I could not quite understand your motivation. Why did you decide to blend in since your instinct is to gut us first and ask questions later?” Oliver sat down on the steps as nonchalantly as if he were at a picnic with his mates. “Then it came to me. Your food is becoming very scarce…harder to find. You have decided to dispense with eating on the run and farm us like cattle. Am I correct?”
Oliver looked at the hunters smugly, awaiting their answer.
Mark wanted to drown in his misery, yet despi
te the physical discomfort, his mind had finally made all of the connections. The Manchester group had gotten their research correct. That explained why Bub2 had been going apeshit.
“Noah and Abel, my proposition is simple. I’ll give you the people here, and then you can help me farm the next group.”
Mark could not believe what he was hearing. He quickly directed his thoughts to his pain when Abel gave him a curious stare.
Noah started to laugh.
“That is brilliant. You really have it all worked out, don't you?”
“Wait a minute, where’s the other one gone?” Abel asked as he turned towards the caravan.
Mark yelped in astonishment when Noah suddenly crashed into the side of the Land Rover with a shout of pain. The hunter had a crossbow bolt embedded in his thigh. Abel fell forward and Mark saw that he had been shot in the back
“Stop staring, Mark! Get a move on,” Nigel yelled.
He spun his head and saw Nigel dropping the crossbow before running past him, heading for the door. Mark scrambled to his feet and followed, aware of the fact that those two monsters would not stay down for long.
Nigel held the door open while Mark ran through it. He grabbed Mark’s arm and dragged him through the corridor and into the tower block.
“Oh god! We are so fucked,” Nigel moaned. He reached the end of the corridor and turned left towards the stairs that led to the main entrance.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mark asked, stopping in his tracks.
“What do you think I’m doing? We’re getting out of here,” gasped Nigel. He saw that Mark had stopped. He walked back and grabbed Mark’s shoulders, pushing him hard against the wall. “There are two hunter’s in here, you dipshit. We have to leave.” He looked over to the window. “At least the dead outside are slow. We might have a chance with them.”
Mark shook his head. “We can’t leave the others, we need to warn them.”
“Fuck them! They would leave us if the roles were reversed. Now, are you coming?”
"What are you saying?" Mark pulled out of the man’s grip.
“Those things will be through that door any second, Mark! They won’t chase us, they’ll go for the others. They will go for the easier targets. Now come on!”
“Fuck you, you monster.” Mark snarled as he turned and ran in the opposite direction.
“Maybe so, but I'll be alive. You’ll die in here," Nigel shouted as Mark rounded the corner.
Chapter Sixteen
On the third tug, Aliza wrenched the ice pick out from the boy’s skull with a wet crack. She wiped off the stinking grey slime that dripped from the pick, and threw the weapon onto the bed.
She glanced at the oppressive looking dark gap between the bottom of the bed and the carpet, not understanding why she dare not get any closer. There was nothing hiding under there, at least not any more. She had just taken care of that with a swift jab of her ice pick. She had been a little bit amazed at how easily the weapon had pierced the thing's skull. She mused that once they become a dead thing, their skulls must soften. It was a theory, she thought to herself.
That bed had looked so inviting, and after two solid hours of running for her life, avoiding the shambling dead that were constantly homing in on her location, she so needed to rest. All she had wanted to do was lay down and block out the world while she allowed her body to recover. A deep, dreamless sleep would have been heavenly, but now she was too wired to even think of sleeping.
Aliza had almost died not twenty minutes before on the ground floor of a department store when a disembodied arm shot out from inside a rack of coats. Those grasping fingers had missed her hair by mere inches. She had not wasted any time waiting to see to whom the arm belonged. Aliza had just run out of the shop in absolute terror. Her longing to be with Diane had clouded her mind. She had been too preoccupied with fear for her baby girl to even think straight. She should have dispatched the monster and moved on.
Looking back, she knew the experience with the arm should have knocked a bit of sense into her soft head. Yet the bed really did look so soft and she had assumed that the gap had been way too narrow for any of the dead to crawl under. Besides, the door had been locked before she entered. Aliza gave herself every excuse she could think of to try to alleviate the stupidity that she felt for almost being killed. Where would that leave Diane?
Aliza dropped to her knees and shone her torch under the bed. The light had shown her a pair of blue slippers and a couple of DVD cases.
“You really should have done that in the first place,” she muttered to the dust bunnies.
Aliza sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dead boy’s face that was permanently twisted in a grimace of anger. She shivered and turned away. That thing was a climber, but it had moved like one of the dead. It did not make any sense to her.
"What happened to you? Why were you moving so slowly?" she asked the dead boy.
"Well, Aliza, that is a very interesting question. Perhaps we could have some tea and discuss the possibilities," she said in a mocking of what she thought that the boy might have sounded like in life.
"Tea sounds lovely," she answered herself in her own voice. "First, I think that you should answer my question you stupid, slow dead fuck."
"Now Aliza, there is no need for such hostility," her boy-voice answered.
“Does it really matter? Stop asking questions that you can’t answer.” She had grown weary of this little game.
She looked at the only door into this room and the chair that she had wedged under the handle. Thinking that she would be safe in here, Aliza had trapped herself inside the room with a monster. She did not find the irony of the situation very funny at that moment.
Aliza had almost had a seizure when that arm had snaked out from under the bed and grabbed her ankle. She brought her foot up and examined the bruising, knowing that walking would be painful for the next few days. She was just lucky that the bruises did not appear to be accompanied by teeth marks.
“How could you be so fucking careless?” she chastised herself.
Living in that tower had made her soft, and she had lost her edge. Oh boy, had she gotten used to the comforts. It was as if the past year had never happened. She had allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security and stability. Her eyes began to tear as she thought of the illusion that she had allowed herself to believe, if only for a moment. The illusion that she, Diane, and Andy could be a family.
The window beside the bed gave her an excellent view of the city centre. Gazing through the streaked glass, she could make out about a dozen abominations scattered across the few streets in her field of vision. They shambled about aimlessly, looking ineffectual at best from this safe distance.
Before joining the group, Aliza would not have even blinked at such a pitiful number of shuffling dead. Somehow, though, that pitiful number had almost killed her today and to make the situation worse, Aliza had no idea of her whereabouts.
“How can you be lost in the tallest building in the city?”
She lay back on the covers and closed her eyes. The sheets smelled of foist, but it did not matter. Everything could wait until the morning after she had had a decent night’s sleep to regain her strength. Her adrenaline had slowed and once again, sleep seemed like a wonderful idea.
Diane needed her mother to be on top form. Whilst trying to stay alive after those bastards kicked her out of the tower, and after her near death experience in the department store, she had pushed Diane to the back of her mind, not wanting to worry about how Andy and Diane were coping without her. If she had stopped to think about Diane, she would not have been able to continue. The thought of her little girl being without her would have been crippling. Even now, her heart ached to be with her daughter.
Now though, as her own immediate safety seemed secure, her worry for Diane’s well-being dominated her thoughts. Aliza did not believe that either Oliver or Tim would do anything stupid. That maniac seemed to think that
her daughter was the future of humanity. What about those two men living next door, though? What were their intentions?
“What are you playing at?” Aliza asked herself as she opened her eyes.
She still could not concretely decide whether or not those two men were hunters. The doubt was still there, and she had responded by running in the opposite direction. Along with the ice pick and torch, she had picked up a few more useful items from the back of that van. Enough to get me back inside, she had thought to herself at the time.
The tower block might be secure, but she was sure that she would be able to find a way through that supermarket. There had to be a way in, and no matter what, she would find it. Nothing but death would keep her from Diane, and she had no intention of dying today.
Unable to sleep, Aliza got up and went to the window. She thought that the view would give her an idea of the route she would take. Something was wrong. The dead were no longer moving. “What the hell?”
They were no longer moving because they had all been ripped apart. There were severed pieces of monster littering the entire road.
She jumped when she heard a crash below her. Someone was in the building. Aliza began to feel a stinging panic in her chest. She looked around, trying to figure out what she could possibly do. There was really only one option.
Aliza pried open the window and made her way out onto the ledge. She slowly and carefully edged her way to the next window, trying not to look down. She almost lost her footing when she heard her door crashing open. Aliza tried to fight her swelling panic as she edged around the side of the building. She spotted a head poke out of the window just as she rounded the corner and said a prayer that they had not seen her.
Her heart stopped for a split second as her foot slipped off the ledge. Scrambling for purchase, she was able to catch hold of a wire with her grasping fingers.
She stopped cold as she heard her pursuer climbing out of the window, coming to get her. Aliza was losing her grip. She knew that she would not be able to hold on much longer. She looked down, surveying the area directly below her. She saw a pile of binbags in a skip below. It was possible that they would cushion her fall, unless they were full of rubble. There was no other choice. She could hear footsteps shuffling across the ledge, getting closer. Aliza closed her eyes and let go of the wire that had been her salvation. All of the air left her lungs as she dropped onto the bags full of old carpet with a thud.
