Heavy sobs snapped through Rhys as he leaned over the wheel. He felt Vicky’s arm across his shoulders and listened to her soft voice. “I’m so sorry, Rhys. I’m so, so sorry.”
Sorry didn’t make any difference to him. Rhys lifted his head. When he looked through the school’s windows, he saw splashes of blood thrown up against nearly every one of them. The front door had been busted clean off its hinges and lay on the floor. What little he could see inside showed him pure carnage, like a tornado of razor blades had torn through the building.
While he rocked in his seat, Rhys shook his head. “No, no, this can’t be happening. No.”
A deep breath, and he sat up straight then leaned into the back of the car and pulled his bat off the seat.
“Don’t get out of the car, Rhys,” Vicky said.
Although he’d heard her, Rhys popped the door open. The stupid and agonised groans of the diseased grew louder. They moaned and writhed as if in perpetual pain. Hopefully they were; the nasty things that had taken his son deserved nothing but utter torment.
At first, the diseased simply watched him. They seemed to understand that bars separated them, although they hadn’t worked out that all they had to do was find the open gate and walk through it. As he got closer to the fence, the diseased in the playground moved forward and pressed themselves against the bars.
Rhys stood still and watched the ones at the front. The thick metal pushed into their flesh as they had pressure applied from the second wave behind them. It pulled at their skin and turned their already gruesome masks of disease into something more twisted and inhuman than they already were. Instead of reaching forward with their hands, the monsters bit at the air. They needed to taste him.
Heavy breaths on Rhys’ left broke him from his trance. He turned in time to see an infected woman. She ran directly at him, her mouth open wide as blood flowed down her chin. Because of her short sleeves, Rhys saw the bite mark on her arm. No two people were turned in the same way. The diseased seemed to attack whatever part of the body they could get to.
Tears blurred Rhys’ vision, but he could see enough. Rhys yelled out and put everything he had into his swing.
The bat and her head connected with a ping, and the vibration ran a momentary ache directly to his elbows.
She dropped to the floor as her legs gave up mid-stride.
Before he could make sure with another blow to the head, a second diseased rounded the corner. This one was a man—the headmaster of the school, no less.
This time, Rhys ran at him. “Why didn’t you save them? You should have done more, you useless fuck!”
The headmaster screamed no differently than the other diseased.
Rhys screamed back and swung.
The headmaster fell.
When Rhys heard the slam of another car door, he turned to see Vicky. He pointed at her and his voice cracked as he shouted, “Get back in the car, now.”
With her bat in her hand, she shook her head. “No. Not if you won’t. I’m not letting you go down like this. And if you go, I’m going down with you.”
More footsteps approached them.
A little boy came at Rhys fast. Being about the same build as Flynn, Rhys’ heart stopped as he stared at him—but it wasn’t Flynn. It looked nothing like him, in fact. If Rhys had more involvement in his boy’s life, he would probably be able to name the kid as one of Flynn’s classmates. He would have probably seen him at the various kids’ parties that he would have attended, but he didn’t. A part-time dad didn’t hold that kind of information, and he wasn’t even that; he’d been demoted to a photo in Flynn’s room, at best.
Reluctance weakened his muscles as he stared at the boy, but he had to do it. The kid had gone. The kid had gone like Flynn had gone. A monster remained. A monster that could only create more monsters.
The kid’s skull gave more easily than those of the adults before him. It felt like swinging at an egg.
The broken form of the little boy crashed to the floor, his limbs splayed; his dark mouth wide. Tears ran down Rhys’ cheeks as he stared at the small and broken body. A frozen look of horror stretched across his tiny face.
More diseased burst from the school; Rhys shook as he lifted his bat and swallowed back the lump in his throat. The people who had once occupied the bodies had long since left. Men, women, children; it didn’t matter anymore. The same monster stared at him from every set of bleeding eyes. The same hive mind hell bent on the eradication of the human race.
As they got close, Rhys yelled, stepped forward, and swung his bat.
Chapter Forty-Three
Rhys lost the use of his arms when one of them grabbed him from behind in a bear hug. What an idiot! With his emotions so high, he’d not even thought to watch his back.
Sharp twists and turns did nothing to help him break free from the vice-like grip.
As he stood there, helpless and restrained, Rhys flinched in anticipation of the huge bite about to bury into his neck until a voice found a way through his fury.
“Rhys, it’s me. You need to get your head together and get back in the car.” When Vicky let him go, she tugged on his arm. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”
A continuous stream of diseased exited the school and filled the playground. If they stayed, they’d die. Vicky was right; they couldn’t fight them all.
As Rhys followed Vicky to the car, he headed for the passenger seat. Several checks behind, and he watched the playground fill up with the monsters.
When he got in, he slammed the door and locked it. Despite the fact that some of the diseased had come through the gate, most of them seemed yet to find it and remained constrained by the fence between the car and the playground. “I just need to know what’s happened to him,” Rhys said. “Either way, I need to know.”
Before Vicky could respond, three more diseased found their way out. They screamed and yelled as they headed straight for the squad car.
Vicky slammed the car into reverse and the engine roared as the vehicle jerked backwards.
While Vicky looked out of the back window, Rhys stared out of the front. He watched the three give chase. “The fuckers look like they can barely stand up. How can they run so fast?”
Vicky slammed the brake on, which locked the wheels and spun the car one hundred and eighty degrees. A lurch of nausea surged through Rhys.
She then threw it into first and accelerated away, her blue eyes hooded by a scowl as she checked the rear-view mirror. With her attention divided between the road ahead and the beasts behind, she said, “How the fuck did the virus get out of Summit City? How did it travel so fast? The terrorists must have let it out. I can’t think of any other explanation.”
A weary sigh and Rhys sank deeper into his seat. He watched the world flash past. A world without his son. He found it hard to give a fuck about anything else. “I don’t know, Vicky, but I’m guessing we’re fucked now it’s out. The river was our best hope of containing it. Because that hasn’t happened, we’re screwed.” A deep ache ran through his heart and his eyes watered. “I’ve failed my boy. The one thing I needed to do when everything turned to shit and I’ve fucked it up.”
The picture of Flynn remained in his shirt’s top pocket. Rhys pulled it out and stared at it. A sharp lump clawed its way up his throat and dug its nails in.
Another check in the rear-view mirror then Vicky dropped a hand on Rhys’ shoulder. She gave it a gentle squeeze before she grabbed the wheel again.
Rhys took the bark from his trouser pocket and stroked the varnished surface. His hands knew every bump of the gift, and his fingers ran familiar paths through its waxed peaks and valleys. “This world seems pointless without Flynn.”
Before Vicky could reply, Rhys sat bolt upright and turned to her. “We have to go back.”
“What? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He lifted the bark and waved it at her. “No, I’m not. Very far from it.” Heavy breaths rocked him where he sat. “Flynn might
still be alive.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Vicky drove back with the same determination she’d escaped with, and Rhys had to hold the handle above the window to keep himself steady. Fear, excitement, and motion sickness wrestled for control of his guts. His palms turned slick with sweat.
He swallowed the hot saliva that rained down his throat and said, “The park is just next to the school. Why didn’t I think of it first? Flynn loves to climb; especially in the park.” He held the bark up. “It’s where he got this from. He told me about it; he climbed as high as he could up the tree and pulled it off. That was a few years back, so I’m sure he can climb much higher now. By the time he leaves primary school, he said he wants to be able to climb so high he can catch the clouds.”
“And you think he managed to get out and make it up there?”
The words hit Rhys like a gut punch and momentarily silenced him. His assertion of a few seconds ago wavered. “I can only hope, Vicky, and as long as I have hope it’s worth going back.”
“But what if he isn’t there?”
For a moment, Rhys couldn’t find the words. He stared at Vicky and ground his jaw. A deep breath released some of his tension. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I know you think it’s the right thing.”
Vicky raised an eyebrow.
“You’re trying to get me familiar with the idea that Flynn’s dead. That’s how we work, isn’t it? Humans, I mean. We set ourselves up for the worse possible scenario so we don’t get our hopes up. We try to feel despair before we know whether we need to or not. First of all, how can I prepare myself for the realisation that my boy’s dead? No amount of thinking it will make me any less devastated if it’s true. I can’t synthesise those feelings before they come to me. Secondly, it’s my boy. If there’s any chance he’s still alive—and until I see his corpse, or him under the twitching and bleeding effect of this virus, then there is a chance—I’m going to hang on to hope. It’s all I have. I’m not giving up until I have to.”
As the pair shot past the front of the school, Rhys pointed at the park next to it. “It’s there; that huge tree in the middle.”
A mob of about twenty diseased had gathered around the foot of the large oak tree. As one, they clawed and grabbed at its trunk. Their inability to climb it showed in their frustrated and pathetic attempts to reach up into the branches. The group only had four or five adults in it. All of the others were children.
Rhys squinted as he looked at the crowd. “Flynn isn’t in that mob.”
“How can you tell?”
It was a fair question. Not only were they quite far away, but the virus added an alien element to its host. The concentrated fury of it turned them into a darker and more horrific version of themselves. Some of them didn’t even look like people anymore. But it didn’t matter how twisted the creatures were; Rhys would know if his boy was there. “I just know.”
Vicky didn’t respond.
The summer heat had cooked the car up, and sweat ran from Rhys’ armpits down his side. Better that than open the windows though. On a normal drive, Rhys would have worked out the air conditioning by now. Instead, he leaned forward and stared into the tree. The thick leaves made it hard to see if anyone was up it.
“Something’s got them riled up,” Rhys said. “I need you to drive into the park so we can get a better look.”
Vicky’s immediate compliance sent a loud clunk through the car when she drove over the curb and onto the grass.
“Are you trying to get a flat?” Rhys said.
Vicky ignored him as she sped across the bumpy ground. The car jumped around like a bean on a bass speaker.
Rhys stared into the tree. Because he wasn’t looking, when they hit the first diseased kid, the loud bang made him jump.
As they got closer, Rhys saw something and hope swelled in his chest. It was a small and exposed leg in a pair of shorts. Then he saw a white polo shirt similar to the ones worn by the diseased children that surrounded the base of the tree. Then finally, he saw the wide eyes and pale face of a boy. Of his boy.
Grief rushed forward. It nearly both blinded and gagged him. After he’d cleared his throat, Rhys rubbed his eyes. “It’s him, Vicky.” Tears dampened his cheeks and he shook when he said, “It’s Flynn.”
Chapter Forty-Five
With the diseased so intent on Flynn up the tree, none of them bothered with the car as it drove past.
Rhys watched them as Vicky drove over to the corner of the park and turned around. Vicky’s impatience manifested when she tapped the steering wheel. “What are we going to do now, Rhys?”
“Is twenty of them too many for us to fight?” he asked. “They’re mostly kids.”
Vicky stopped tapping and looked at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Look,” Vicky said, “I’ll do it as a last resort. He’s your boy, and we’ll get him out of this situation one way or another. Although, I’d rather not go toe to toe with over twenty of them if I can avoid it; who knows how many more will come if we start a fight.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rhys saw a diseased by itself. When he looked at it, he gasped. “A baby.”
“What?”
Rhys pointed at the diseased woman. “Look, that one over there has a baby. It’s not interested in attacking anyone because it’s looking after that thing. It’s like what I saw in the tower. These monsters look out for one another.”
As Vicky watched the diseased woman and baby, the colour drained from her face. “It’s fucking tragic what’s happened. Government paranoia turned this conflict into a pissing contest between scientists who have zero empathy. They see the entire world as an experiment without any regard for consequence. They don’t care that they’ve torn families apart.”
While Vicky talked, the plan formed in Rhys’ mind. He kept it to himself; she wouldn’t go for it if he gave her a choice. He grabbed his bat off the back seat. “Wait here.”
Vicky raised an eyebrow at him.
Once outside the car, Rhys pushed the door closed as quietly as possible. He took steps toward the woman. They were diseased; they weren’t real people anymore. If he saw them as real, he’d lose the fight. He needed to win for Flynn’s sake.
When he got close to the mother, he readied his bat. The mother then turned and looked straight at him. With her dark and bloody eyes fixed on him, she worked her mouth up and down as if to stretch a cramp from her jaw. Then she snarled and hissed. A wounded dog backed into a corner, she just wanted him to stay away. Her tongue, covered in blood, poked forward like a reptile’s, and she pulled her little one in tighter.
Rhys stopped and stared at her.
Then he pushed on again.
As he got closer, she pulled her baby in and turned her shoulder around the infant so she faced him side on. The thought of it robbed some of the strength from Rhys. Diseased or not, a mother and child stood before him. He knew he couldn’t treat them with that compassion. They didn’t deserve it and their human form probably wouldn’t want it. Rhys would want to be taken down instantly in their situation.
She opened her mouth to hiss again, and Rhys swung for her.
Like a puppet having its strings cut, the mother went down and hit the ground hard. The strength of her grip abandoned her and she let go of the infected child. It rolled away from her dead body and fell on its back. Its limbs pistoned out in random directions, but the baby didn’t cry.
The taste of bile rose onto the back of Rhys’ tongue as he watched it.
He then leaned down, grabbed one of its chubby ankles, and lifted it from the ground. There may have only been a few teeth in its mouth, but from the way it snapped and bit at the air between them, the little shit knew exactly how to use them.
As Rhys approached the car with the thing at arm’s length, Vicky stared at him, her face slack. She wound the window down. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t confuse this thing for human. It’s one of the
m, and it’s them against us.”
With a deep frown, Vicky looked from Rhys to the baby and back again.
“Look, I just need you to trust me, okay?”
Vicky continued to watch the baby.
“I’m going to get on the roof of the car and bang on it when I want you to move or stop. I need you to drive over to the tree, but much slower this time. You got that?”
She continued to watch the baby.
“I said, have you got that?”
Vicky gulped and nodded.
Chapter Forty-Six
The climb onto the roof proved much harder because of the baby. Its tiny bloody eyes glared hate at him. No matter how small the thing, it wanted to fuck him up. When he was finally up and on his feet, Rhys stamped on the roof. “Remember to drive slowly, Vicky.”
Even at the slow pace, the car shook over the lumpy ground and it threatened to throw Rhys off. With his arms held out for balance, he watched the baby swing like a pendulum from his grip. Its little mouth snapped every time it got close to him.
As they approached the tree, the diseased at the bottom continued to focus on Flynn.
Rhys stamped on the top of the car again when they got close, and Vicky came to an abrupt stop.
Everything moved in slow motion. Rhys’ foot caught beneath the blue strip light that sat on the top of the car, and he fell. He reached out to soften his landing, which brought the baby closer. The ravenous little demon swung so near to his face that the castanet click of its teeth snapped in Rhys’ ear.
When Rhys hit the roof of the car, he rolled onto his back and lifted the baby away from him. He kept it at arm’s length. The fall had instilled a new vigour in the horrible thing. It writhed and snapped with more ferocity than before. So close to tasting blood, it seemingly couldn’t bear it.
Rhys got to his feet again, and the baby chewed at the air between them. He turned to the diseased beneath the tree. “Oi, you horrible bastards, look at me. I have one of you now.”
The Alpha Plague (Book 1) Page 16
