A particularly strong gust of wind crashed into Vicky’s right side, shoving her a few stumbling steps to the left. The continuous onslaught of the cold rain had turned one side of her face numb. She now felt every stinging drop as if it rained nails.
“We may be outnumbered by Moira’s community,” Serj said.
The others looked at him, confusion crushing their faces. Although Vicky knew exactly where he was going with it.
He then added, “I don’t know how many people they have there; none of us do.”
“Yet Stuart keeps asking you,” Flynn said to Vicky and giggled. None of the others laughed, so Vicky gave the blushing boy a smile. Piotr and Scoop seemed to get Serj had something important to say from his tone, even if his words hadn’t made much sense.
“What we do know, however, is that we need an army on our side,” Serj continued. “We can win against them with an army. We need a resilient group that are ready to attack and hopefully able to overwhelm Moira and her lot. They won’t know what’s hit them when we send them in.”
“Aren’t you being a bit hopeful calling the people at Home an army?” Piotr asked.
Before Serj could respond, the first sounds of the penned diseased rode the winds towards them. Piotr raised his bat and dropped into a defensive hunch. A second later, Scoop and Flynn raised their weapons too.
When Vicky saw Piotr step in front of Flynn, a pang twisted through her chest. But she didn’t say anything. It should be a good thing Flynn had someone looking out for him. Even if that someone wasn’t her.
Vicky reached across and put a hand on Flynn’s forearm to encourage him to lower his bat.
Confusion stared back at her.
“Trust me,” she said, “you won’t need to fight.”
Flynn ignored her, and so he should. For the past decade, the sound of the diseased meant danger. Vicky pulled her hand away from him and let him grip his weapon and scan the distance for signs of the horrible fuckers.
“I’ve just had a thought,” Scoop said as she walked with a hunch and scowled at the horizon. “If we get chased, how will we get back into Home quickly?”
“We won’t get chased,” Serj said.
“Can’t you hear that?” Scoop replied.
Serj shook his head. “We won’t get chased. Trust me.”
The looks from Flynn, Scoop, and Piotr suggested they thought Serj had lost the plot. One by one they looked at Vicky for backup. She didn’t give it to them. Just a few more paces and they’d crest the top of the small hill.
Serj stopped at that moment and turned to the others. “What we have here,” he said, and then backed up a few paces to the top of the hill, “is a group of expendables.” He introduced the scene as if opening a fictional door with his left arm.
To be fair to Flynn, he articulated it best as they all moved forward to see what lay beyond the hill. The boy pulled his sodden hair from his eyes and said, “What the fuck?”
Chapter Ten
It didn’t matter how many times Vicky crested the small hill, whenever she saw the pen she nearly froze. Over two hundred diseased stretched out before them. All of them had chased her at one point or another in the past few months and, if she looked hard enough, she could recognise every one of their horrible faces.
Vicky pushed on, fighting against her leaden limbs and the stinging onslaught of the rain. They’re penned in; they can’t get out. Regardless of how many times she told herself that, she couldn’t get over her fear when she saw the horrible bastards.
“The fuck?” Flynn said as if his first expletive didn’t quite hit the mark.
“Vicky and I have been gathering these for several weeks now,” Serj said.
Vicky noticed Flynn stare across at her in her peripheral vision, but she didn’t look back. Another thing she’d kept from him. He had every right to be pissed off with her, but they didn’t need to address it now.
Serj raised his voice over the sound of the wind and rain. “We’ve been luring them in and gathering them up.”
“Because life isn’t dangerous enough for you already?” Flynn said.
Vicky hated when he got in these moods. He’d do anything for an argument. She could really do without mediating for the hot-headed boy today. Fortunately, she didn’t need to because Serj ignored him and continued.
“We’re going to set them loose on Moira’s community.”
Piotr pointed down at the pen. “This is your army?”
“Yep.”
“Total cannon fodder,” Vicky said. “We don’t have to worry about their well-being and they can put a serious dent in Moira’s gang.”
“How do you know?” Scoop said. “You said you don’t know how many of them are down there.”
At first Vicky didn’t have an answer. Then she said, “We don’t know exactly how many, but even if we assume the worst, there are enough diseased here to seriously damage them. Also, don’t forget there are a good twenty to thirty people in the prison on our side too. It’ll be chaos when we send these things over the top. That’ll work in our favour.”
When none of the others spoke, Serj led them toward the pen and closer to the stench of rot.
As they followed behind, Flynn moved close to Vicky. Just by the way he held himself, she could feel his anger, but before he could vent it, the shrill call of a diseased rang out. Paranoid for Flynn’s safety, Vicky raised her bow and jumped in front of the boy.
Serj turned to look at her. “It came from within the pen. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Flynn spoke beneath his breath so only Vicky could hear him. “Yeah, and I can look after myself, thanks.”
The gunmetal grey sky and fierce rain made the pen of diseased all the more ominous. Unlike the guards, who all flinched or covered their faces against the elements, the diseased seemed oblivious to it as they stood like statues and stared at the approaching group.
Serj guided them along the side of the fence. “As you can see, they’re secure in here. This pen was already set up to obviously hold some kind of livestock. Because these fuckers can’t climb, we’re fairly confident they won’t get out.”
The fence resembled many Vicky had seen before. It had upright poles with two horizontal wooden bars between each one. Maybe they’d kept horses in the pen before the diseased. Fuck knew, but with the chicken wire all the way around, it served as the perfect enclosure for the horrible bastards.
Once they’d rounded the first bend, they had to get slightly closer to the fence. With the river on one side and the pen on the other, the walkway narrowed, but not to the point where it put any of them in danger. The diseased reached out, and although it felt like they could grab one of them, Vicky had been down here enough times to know they couldn’t. It didn’t stop Piotr, Scoop, and Flynn from recoiling from their grasping hands though.
“We might try to get a few more in here before we release them,” Serj said.
“And how do you know they’ll go to Moira’s complex rather than ours?” Scoop asked.
“I’m going to run ahead of them,” Vicky said.
Scoop’s face fell slack. “You’re what?”
Before Vicky could reply, the screech of another diseased called out. It sounded much like the one earlier, the one who’d made Vicky jump. And now she heard it again, she looked up and her breath quickened. As did her words. “It’s not in the pen, Serj.”
The creature sprinted for them and screamed. Dried bloody eyes fixed on the group as it gnashed at the air with its wide mouth and reached out in front of itself. It moved with its clumsy yet fast gait and screamed again.
Before any of them had time to react, the monster got to Serj at the front of the group. He ducked under its swinging arms.
A step later and it came to Vicky. She dodged to the side and knocked into Flynn behind her. She watched the diseased but heard Flynn scream. Her body locked tight when his yell ended with a splash of water. Cold dread sank through her.
The diseased had tot
ally left Vicky’s mind and she had only a vague awareness of Piotr and Scoop beating it down. Instead, she turned to look into the river where Flynn had fallen in. She couldn’t see him. One quick check around and Vicky dived in after him.
Chapter Eleven
The tide grabbed Vicky as soon as she broke the surface, and the coldness of the water drew the air from her body. It turned her over as if she were dirty washing on a spin cycle. She tumbled so fast she barely knew where the sky and the ground were. One second she saw gunmetal grey and felt the stinging lash of rain above her, and the next her face went under, where she saw the brown muddy churn of the river.
As if goaded by the storm, the river turned into a wild and frenzied beast. Vicky swore she heard it growl as it barreled along.
When she got her head above the water for more than a few seconds, Vicky gasped a deep breath. As she fought against the tide to remain upright, she scanned for Flynn. She couldn’t see him. She opened her mouth to call out and inhaled a huge gulp of muddy water.
Vicky vomited it straight back out again. It came up as cleanly as it had gone down, wiping its feet by leaving a slightly gritty bile on the back of her throat. Other than that, she recovered quickly.
Despite the chaos around her, Vicky heard a splash of water accompanied by a loud gasp. She saw Flynn break the surface, his mouth opened wide as he breathed before he disappeared again. Although a strong swimmer, even she found it hard to stay afloat.
In her desperation to see Flynn, Vicky dipped her head into the murky and rushing depths, but her search revealed nothing. The brown churn pulled the mud up from the riverbed and turned everything into a cloudy soup.
The banks on either side stood at least a metre higher than the water level, so even if Flynn did get over to one, he’d have no chance of climbing out, especially with the strong current dragging at them like it did. The only way he’d get out of there was if Vicky saved him. But what else could she do other than watch the spot she’d seen him in last?
The heavy rain dappled the water. When added to the choppy flow, it seemed quite possible Flynn could appear for a second, and Vicky would miss him amongst the chaos already there. There had to be a better way to find him. She dropped beneath the surface again.
A couple of blinks against the misty fugue and Vicky’s sight cleared a little to reveal something on the riverbed. When she recognised what she saw, she gasped so hard she inhaled another gulp, coughing instantly as she fought to return to the surface.
Once Vicky had her head above water, she vomited for a second time. It didn’t come as easily as the first. The thick rush of muddy liquid caught in her throat and momentarily choked her. Another hot rush of vomit, chunky and acidic, forced the first lot out and she found her breath again.
Vicky might have stopped choking, but it didn’t change what she’d seen beneath her; a carpet of diseased lay on the bottom of the river. They’d clearly tried to cross it and failed, hundreds, if not thousands of times. They looked to be drowned, but what if some of them still lived? Maybe they’d only just fallen in and they lay in wait for an errant limb to drag, pull under, and bite into. Maybe they had Flynn already.
Another particularly strong surge ran through the river and it flipped Vicky onto her back, forcing her to look up at the cloudy sky and bear the sting of the rain against her cheeks.
Hearing the splash of breaking water ahead, Vicky fought to pull herself back over onto her front. Time seemed to slow when she couldn’t breathe moments ago, but when she caught a glance of Flynn, it moved at light speed, the boy breaking through the water, flailing for some kind of control over his situation, and then vanishing beneath the surface again. She heard his bark of a breath. If she didn’t hurry, he’d surely drown.
Hopefully the diseased weren’t active on the riverbed. Although what did it matter at that point? Vicky hardly had any other options. She fought to ride the currents, doing breaststroke with the flow of the river to try to catch up with Flynn.
Each powerful stroke clawed at Vicky’s stamina. The sound of her own struggle echoed through her head.
Flynn burst up from the depths again. No more than a metre separated them, but despite reaching across the gap, it stretched just that little bit too far. For the briefest second, Vicky and Flynn shared a look. Wild panic sat in Flynn’s eyes and she wanted to tell him it would be okay. However, before she could do anything, he’d slipped beneath the surface again.
Vicky dived straight after Flynn, her tired limbs on fire as she fought to get to him. Two strong strokes before she reached out and caught the back of his jacket and pulled him in. The long, slim form of a boy yet to be a man came easily enough for her to hold him beneath his armpits.
Despite the ease with which Vicky pulled Flynn in, she struggled to get him up to the surface. For the briefest second it felt like she might not make it and her panicked pulse hammered through her skull. With her legs dangling down, she imagined a clawing hand grabbing her ankle and dragging on them both. The fear weakened her kick and her lungs felt ready to burst. Then she looked down at the rotting mass of swollen bodies, and she found an extra spurt of energy. She pumped her legs, forcing them both up.
Once they broke the surface again, Vicky rolled Flynn so he faced the grey sky. She put her right arm underneath his right armpit and reached across his chest. She used her other arm and legs to swim as she guided them to the side. A look over her shoulder and she saw a lower part of the riverbank. A place where they could get out.
The rain continued to lash Vicky’s face, pebble-dashing her to the point where she nearly closed her eyes against the sting of the pregnant drops.
When she reached the riverbank, Vicky fought against her desire to flop the second she hit land. There could be hundreds of diseased ready to reach up to them. They had to get away from the water.
Heavy pants rocked Vicky’s entire frame and she opened her mouth wide to breathe. The muddy riverbank tugged on her every step, fighting her as she dragged Flynn up through the liquid earth. Each movement squelched, even above the hammering of her pulse and the lashing of the rain, and Flynn’s limp heels dragged through the clogged ground.
A few metres from the water, Vicky fell into the mud with a loud slurp. She let go of Flynn but fought her desire to fall limp with exhaustion. Instead, she rested up on one elbow and watched him as he lay pale and still.
Before she could do anything else, Flynn vomited, so Vicky rolled him into the recovery position and patted his back. Another heave and water rushed out of him. “There, there, you’re doing so well. Keep clearing your lungs, mate.”
Close to collapse herself, the scream of a diseased roused Vicky. She looked over her shoulder at the hideous woman. She seemed to be no more than thirty years old and looked like she’d only recently turned. Her clothes hadn’t started to rot on her body yet, and the claret lines running from her eyes glistened with fresh blood. Her light blonde hair and pale complexion made the angry streaks of red on her face stand out from a mile away.
With her crossbow unloaded but still strapped to her back, Vicky yelled as she used all of her dwindled strength to yank it free. As she spun around to face the diseased woman again, she launched her weapon. The crossbow spun through the air, covering the distance between them in an instant and connecting with the centre of the diseased woman’s face. The impact drove the woman backwards and knocked her to the ground.
Vicky jumped to her feet and ran at the woman, removing her knife from her hip as she moved. Somewhere between a stumble and a leap, she dived at the diseased freak and drove her blade into her skull. It popped through the bone as it sank into the top of the woman’s head.
Several convulsive kicks and the woman fell limp while Vicky remained on top of her.
For the next few seconds, Vicky watched the downed diseased to be sure she wouldn’t move again. She then rolled off her and fell into the thick mud on her back.
Once she’d slightly recovered, Vicky stared up at the
blackening sky. The storm seemed to be getting worse.
Chapter Twelve
Vicky walked back down to where she’d left Flynn and held her muddy hand out to him. The boy took it, his own grip as caked as hers. A hard tug and she pulled him from the cloying mud around his bottom. He came up with a wet squelch. Although Vicky wanted to hug him, she held back. She’d promised she wouldn’t mother him anymore and she needed to stick by that.
Vicky walked through the mud, with Flynn beside her. Every time she put her foot down, the thirsty ground gripped it and almost didn’t let go. She looked up the hill in front of them to see the other Home guards waiting at the top.
“Do you think they followed us down?” Flynn asked. He still looked pale, but at least he had the strength to move. They needed to get back to Home before they rested.
“It certainly looks that way,” Vicky replied.
The rushing body of water behind them whooshed as it tore along, but the farther they moved away from it, the more its sound got buried beneath the noise of the heavy rain. It fell so hard Vicky locked in a permanent wince against its lashing.
It might have only been a small incline, but with the weather battering her, and exhausted from her struggle to save Flynn, Vicky’s legs shook with each step up it. A particularly strong gust of wind hit her and she stumbled sideways, nearly falling as she fought to free her feet from the mud to keep up with her quick steps.
As they passed the downed diseased, Vicky looked across at Flynn and saw him staring at the thing. The woman’s light blonde hair lay as a halo, sprawled out around her. It rested in the soaked mud, blood from her wound turning the surface water pink. Her mouth hung open as if she still released a death call, and her bloody eyes were spread so wide Vicky shuddered at the sight of the two crimson orbs.
The rain continued, unrelenting, and Vicky looked at Flynn again to see his frown against the elements. “At least we can’t get any wetter,” she said.
The Alpha Plague (Book 6) Page 5
