The remaining members of the pier – old man Bob, Lemon, David, Cat, and Jimmy – made their way from the beach back up to the pier. With them went the new members of their family – Hugo and his girls, the soldiers, Barker and Price, an American named Wade, and the three fishermen who had surrendered their boat to Hugo. Garfield decided to stay with Anna on the rocks for a while longer, watching out for sounds of dead approaching down the beach. They seemed to have a bit of time for now. It felt good to just sit there and enjoy the warmth of another body. As long as there was time to do that, perhaps all was not lost. They had a good chance of making it.
The group’s numbers were not inconsiderable and their bond was already strong. They had a large stockpile of guns and rations, along with two very heavy trucks, and a tank. What they needed now was a home.
But for now, they all stood on the pier, gathering up supplies and preparing for the future. Samuel may have killed the pier the same way he had killed so many men, but he would never take away what it had meant: that mankind could survive and pull together as one. Now that Samuel was gone, perhaps the remaining members of the fleet would pull together too. The time for leaders had passed. Community was the only thing that would get them through now. They were brothers and sisters, members of the same struggling species. They must all live and fight as one. Or die alone and apart.
Garfield gave Anna one final squeeze. “Time to go,” he said, but neither of them moved. Instead, they held one another and wept until the sun died and the moon arose.
HUGO
Being on the road with his new companions had been unbelievably dangerous. The dead were everywhere as they trekked northwards. With no particular location in mind they hoped only to find someplace safe to set up a new camp. That didn’t mean they were willing to stop at the first place they found, though. They were more than a dozen in number and wanted to find a place where they could be safe, but also have the opportunity to build a life for themselves. They had passed up various supermarkets, sports stadiums, and farms in favour of continuing the search. They all hoped that when they found what they were looking for they would know it.
One thing they agreed on, however, was that the pier had kept them prisoner. If they found a chance to rebuild, they wanted to live as people again. They would plant seed and round up whatever animals they could find. They would build fences and cull the dead. The soldiers would show them how. It would be a dangerous existence, for sure, but so far no one had been hurt on the journey and their confidence of survival was growing. They had faced the dead many times, in numbers great and small, but they had remained earnest and acted without risk. They watched out for one another and made decisions via committee. Each member of the group was equally important – even Hugo’s daughters – and for that every man and woman was faultlessly loyal to their new family. There were no leaders and no dissent. There was no power and no egos. The only danger was the dead, and they faced that threat together, as one. It had kept them safe for a long time.
With each passing day, Hugo began to feel more and more hopeful. Three months had passed since they’d left the pier and his daughters had now begun to smile much more than they ever had at sea. They were in constant danger, but they were alive and free. They had friends, family, and a future. Hugo was no longer their sole protector and guardian, he was just their father again, there to love them. A dozen others were there to help keep Daphne and Sophie safe; Hugo could finally relax and find a little peace, even amongst the ruins of Great Britain. I wonder whatever became of France? Will I ever see it again? Somehow he didn’t care. He had his family and that was all that mattered.
The group had made it all the way past Stoke now. They had done so in convoy, kept safe by the big Army trucks, and the tank, which led their way. Each man and woman had been trained to use a rifle or a handgun and they hung out of the truck beds and the tank’s turret whenever the dead came too near. By keeping up their speed and making their shots count, they had remained safe and made good time. The dead fell before them like cardboard cut outs in the wind. They were no longer the hazard they once were – being organised and well armed made them a manageable threat. Life was still a struggle, but it was doable. Once they found a place to settle, things would hopefully get easier still. Cat was six weeks pregnant – a supermarket urine test had told her so. David was constantly filled with glee, but his attempts to mollycoddle the mother of his child were always met with an elbow to the ribs. Cat was a tough cookie and wouldn’t be looked after, but it was clear that the pregnancy filled her with a poorly guarded glee. Hugo couldn’t wait to see the baby brought forth into the world. Sophie and Daphne had already volunteered to be aunties, which Cat had graciously accepted.
Hugo smiled. We truly are a family now.
Humanity would come back from the brink of extinction, one baby at a time. Hugo now dreamt about his daughters finding love and giving him granddaughters. It would have been absurd to think about only three months ago, but now…
Hugo chuckled and threw the tennis ball across the abandoned football pitch. Houdini raced off after it, racing all the way. A group of pigeons took flight as the little dog zoomed towards them, and Hugo laughed even harder. The group had spent the last night camped out at an old leisure centre and were getting ready to move on soon. Hugo felt alive and well. Last night he had closed his eyes and slept like a baby for the first time in over a year. Somehow the world didn’t seem quite as horrible on land as it had done on the sea. A man’s feet should be on the earth. It is where we belong. As long as mankind keeps on walking, we’ll make it to tomorrow.
END
THE SALVATION CHRONICLES
STEPHANIE
The bar was busy tonight. One thing a recession didn’t change was people’s desire to get shitfaced and wake up the following morning with some sweaty mistake in their bed. It was Saturday night and the beer and spirits were flowing at the Cross & Chapel.
“Double-vodka Red Bull, please, darlin’.”
Steph smiled. “Coming right up,” she said to the man on the other side of the bar. She pumped the vodka from a wall optic and mixed the drink on the bar.
The man took it, thanked and paid her. “Busy night tonight, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Steph. “People still like to have a good time.”
The man wiggled a black eyebrow. “Do you like to have a good time, sweetheart?”
Oh brother…. Steph eyed the man up. He was handsome enough, with dark eyes and short black hair, but he was also drunk and leering at her a little un-gentlemanly-like. “Sorry, mate. Your princess is in another castle.”
That just seemed to arouse the guy more. “You seem like the princess I’m looking for to me.”
“I’m not.” Steph turned away from the drunken man and tried to serve another patron who’d approached the bar, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Hey, I’m not done talking with you.”
Steph considered calling Mike, the bouncer, but she didn’t want to give this douchebag the satisfaction. Instead, she shrugged free of the man’s grasp, leaned across the bar and stared him in the eye. She was no man’s victim. “Touch me again and you’ll go home wearing a stool.”
The man moved his hand away and laughed. He was shocked but undeterred. He wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re a cheeky girl.”
“I think you should leave the lady alone,” said another man standing at the bar. The guy was average height, smaller than the drunken man, but was heavier set and a few years older.
The drunken douchebag glared at the other man. “Who the fuck asked you to get involved?”
The other man just smiled. There was a calmness about him that bordered on charm. He had pale blue eyes, which shimmered beneath the bar’s strobe lights. “Chivalry asked me to get involved,” he said. “I can’t stand idly by while some Neanderthal hits on a pretty girl.”
He thinks I’m pretty, thought Steph.
The drunken man took his double vodka and downed it in one, be
fore slamming the low baller back on the bar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his shirt cuff and stepped away from the bar. “You wanna take it outside, buddy?”
The smaller man rolled his eyes. “No, because then I would have to pay the cover charge to get back in again. Seems silly to me.”
“You’re a pussy. You know I’d kick your arse.”
“Yes, I am quite sure you could beat me up quite easily. You’re a tough guy and you frighten me. I wish I had the guts to fight you, but I don’t, so perhaps you should go and find someone who is brave enough. I’m sure you can find a nice big man to get all sweaty with in here.”
Stephen sniggered under her breath.
The man was too drunk to notice the veiled mockery. He snickered and shook his head. “Pussy. I catch you outside, you’re dead.” He walked away.
“Look forward to it,” the other man muttered.
“Sorry about that,” said Steph, putting away the low baller glass that had been left on the bar.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Just because you work behind a bar doesn’t mean you should have to put up with idiots like that.”
“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid. My name’s Steph.”
The man offered his hand. “Bryan. Pleased to meet you, Steph.”
“Likewise.”
“Can I get sh-sh…shum shervis here, p-please,” slurred a blonde woman from the end of the bar. “S-s-stop chatting up the…the men and ssserve your cushtumas.”
Steph nodded at the woman and smiled. “Of course, what can I get you, hun?” The woman ordered a rum and coke and tottered away like she’d won a prize once she had it. Steph turned back around to resume her conversation with Bryan, but found he had gone. Huh, guess he wasn’t that interested after all.
Steph never had much luck with men. Once things looked like they might work out with a guy named Harry. She met him at a pub she worked at called The Trumpet, but he had developed a brain tumour and moved to South Africa to get experimental treatment. Harry pledged his love to her, but said he couldn’t commit to her until he was well again. He didn’t want to burden her with his illness. In her heart Steph still loved Harry, but they’d been apart so long now that she doubted they’d ever be more than friends across the phone. Recently she’d started to consider the possibility of dating someone new. The only problem was that the guys she met at work were all drunken wankers. Bryan seemed nice, though.
Mike, the bald-headed bouncer, stomped over to the bar and gave her his best look of concern. “Looked like you were having some bother. Everything okay?”
Steph nodded. “Just another letch. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“If you spot the guy, point him out and I’ll keep my eye on him.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
Cassie, one of the other barmaids, returned from her fag break and began serving. Steph took the opportunity to do a quick glass collection. The pub was large, halfway between a club and a lounge, but management kept a small staff. Everyone chipped in, doing whatever jobs needed to be done.
On the far side of the dance floor was a hen party. The dozen ladies were bedraggled and partied-out. With each of them attired in slutty nurse uniforms, it was hard to tell who was the bride. Steph assumed it was the portly lady wearing a dildo hat. Jesus, thought Steph. Remind me never to get married.
Not a single one of the women were sober. They were all semi-conscious and moaning. Steph began collecting their champagne flutes, but was forced to side-step quickly to avoid one woman vomiting. Fabulous. I guess I get to clean that up later. “Hey,” Steph said. “Do you girls want me to call a taxi?”
The woman who’d vomited lay sideways on the bench and moaned. “I’m…I’m not feeling well.”
“You’ve had too much to drink, sweetheart. You should get yourself home and into bed.”
The woman heaved again, but managed to refrain from puking further. “I…no….”
Steph placed the flutes down and put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Her skin was flaming hot. “You’re just drunk. Too much partying is bad for you.”
The woman shook her head weakly. “I…haven’t drunk.”
Steph frowned, looked at all of the champagne flutes and empty bottles. “Looks like you’ve drunk enough to down a horse to me.”
“No. I…I don’t drink. I have diabetes. The other girls drank, but not…not…meeeeeurgh!” The woman lurched forward and puked again. Steph was horrified to see that the puke was made up mostly of blood and mucus. She took a step back and placed her hand over her mouth. All of the women were more than just drunk, they were ill. Each of them had bulging, bloodshot eyes and were covered in their own bloody vomit. They were sprawled out and unconscious.
Steph spun around and searched for Mike in the crowd, but from where she was standing, it was impossible to see him across the crowded dance floor. Suddenly the music seemed way too loud and she couldn’t think. I need to get help.
The last person she wanted to see was the drunken letch. He bumped up behind her and placed his hand around her waist. When she spun around she was face to face with him again. “Hey, baby. I was hoping to bump into you.”
Steph shoved him away but he held onto her with both arms. “Let go of me,” she demanded.
“Not until you give me a kiss.” The man closed his eyes and puckered up.
“Let go of me!”
The man ignored her. He pulled her closer, so tightly that she could smell the sweat beneath his cheap aftershave. “Come on, just one little kiss.”
“Let go of her!”
Steph craned her neck to see that Bryan had come to her aid once again. The drunken man let go of her and turned around. He snarled at Bryan and raised his fists. “That’s it, you’re going down.” He shoved Steph aside and threw a punch.
Bryan slinked aside and put his foot out. The drunken man went stumbling over it and ended up falling on top of the portly bride. Her dildo hat poked him in the eye. She remained unconscious.
Bryan placed his hand on Steph’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Steph shook her head. “We need to call an ambulance. These women are really sick.”
Bryan stared down at the ladies, all passed-out in a row. “Aren’t they just drunk?”
“No,” said Steph. “Look.”
Bryan looked harder and saw what she had seen. He plucked out his mobile phone and dialled 999 immediately.
The drunken man was struggling to get up. His insobriety had left him like a turtle on his back. He managed to hook a leg under the table and lever himself up into a sitting position, but remained sitting on top of the unconscious bride. “I’m going to knock you the fuck out,” he growled. “You hear me?”
Bryan was staring at his phone and shaking his head.
“What is it?” Steph asked him.
“No signal. I….”
“You and me are going outside,” the drunken man shouted at them over the music. Steph and Bryan both turned to face him, but were taken by surprise. The portly bride woke up suddenly. Her eyes snapped open and bulged from their sockets. Her chubby arms clamped around the drunken man on her lap and held him there. “What the fuck!” He tried to get away, but the bride clung to him. Her arms were twice as thick as his. “Get this fat bitch off of me,” he yelled.
But before Steph and Bryan could help, the bride opened her mouth wide and let out an ear piercing shriek so loud that even the loud music seemed to fade away.
Steph held her ears and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the bride had bitten down on the drunken man’s neck. Her teeth sank into his flesh like he was made out of fried chicken.
The drunken man bellowed in agony. Suddenly his eyes were alert and sober as agony shocked him back to his full senses. “Argh! Get her off me. Get her off me!”
The bride clamped down harder. Blood began to surge from the deep wound in his neck. Sinew and veins tore away as the woman’s jaws ripped and chewed.
&
nbsp; “Holy shit!” said Bryan, no longer calm and collected. He lunged forward and grabbed a hold of the drunken man, tried to pull him away, but the bride would not let go. Bryan batted at her face with his fists. Eventually she released her jaws and the drunken man fell to the floor, leaking blood everywhere. The hole in his neck was the size of an orange and the blood came out like thick satin paint.
Mike, the bouncer, rushed over from the dance floor, having heard the commotion. The bar’s drunken revellers had ceased their dancing and were all looking in the direction of the hen party. “What the hell is going on?” Mike asked. He glanced down at the bleeding man and then up at Bryan. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. It was her.”
Mike looked up just in time to see the plump bride charging at him. He caught the woman against his chest, but seemed more confused than anything. The woman thrashed and screeched in his muscly arms.
“Get away from her,” Steph shouted. “She’s not well.”
“No shit,” said Mike. He spun the woman around and yanked her arms behind her back. She hollered and snapped her teeth. Blood filled her mouth and spattered the floor.
What the hell is happening? Steph looked down to see that the drunken letch was dead, a large pool of blood spread out beneath him.
That was when the rest of the hen party got to their feet. They stood up as one, glaring and spitting like feral cats.
Bryan took a hold of Steph and edged her backwards. “I think we should get out of here.”
The bride in Mike’s arms spun around and buried her face in his neck. The large man screamed like a girl as she tore into his windpipe and seized his vocal chords between her teeth.
The bar exploded with panic. Fleeing bodies overwhelmed the dance floor, shoving and trampling one another to get to the exit. The music screeched to a halt as the DJ leapt from his booth and joined the panicked crowd. All around, people shouted and screamed, pushed and shoved, punch and kicked. The ladies of the hen party sprinted after the crowd, falling on top of people like tigers upon antelope. They brought down men twice their size and tore into them with their teeth and nails. Soon blood covered the dance floor and people began to slip and tumble in the red stuff. The bodies piled up three-deep and the hen party ripped them all open to feed upon their insides.
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