The Alpha Plague 2

by Michael Robertson

  First, however, he had to cross the open space to get there… and do something to help the man.

  The distance Rhys had to travel may have been over two hundred metres, but it didn’t prevent him from seeing the man’s size. Both broad and tall, he looked as well built to survive as anyone and had a good few inches on even the tallest of the three diseased. However, his size meant jack shit if the others at the bridge saw him. The Hulk would have a hard time against that crowd.

  The walkie-talkie shook in Rhys’ trembling hand when he pulled it from his pocket. Two large dials sat prominently on its front, one for the channels and one for the volume. A check across the river and he saw Vicky in the control booth, the London skyline prominent behind her. He switched the walkie-talkie on and pressed the button on the side. “Vicky, it’s Rhys; if you can hear me, give me a thumbs up.”

  Rhys could only see Vicky as a silhouette through the booth’s cloudy glass windows, so he couldn’t tell if she’d heard him or not. A few seconds later, she stuck her arm out of the side and gave him a thumbs up.

  “Good,” Rhys said. “Don’t say anything; otherwise, your voice will lead them straight to me. I have a problem. Some idiot was hiding in the entranceway to one of the buildings and is now fighting three diseased. If the others see what’s going on, they’ll lynch him and I won’t stand a chance of getting into the city. I need you to distract them while I go and help him out.”

  Rhys watched the booth and nothing happened. Of course nothing happened; he’d hardly given her a plan of action, just a big fucking problem.

  Then she stepped out of the booth and walked off. Because of the raised drawbridge, she disappeared from sight almost immediately. As Rhys stood there, he chewed on his bottom lip. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins and he shook worse than before.

  A loud continuous beep then sounded out on the other side of the river. The diseased close to the raised bridge lifted their heads like a pack of dogs in response to a whistle. Rhys couldn’t help but smile at Vicky’s ingenuity. “Good girl.”

  The frenzy that had gripped the group only moments before ratcheted up. The diseased hurled themselves at the raised asphalt, and the roars turned to bellows. The screams rang so shrill they hit a pitch that sounded like it could break glass. Bloody maws snapped and they pushed one another aside to launch themselves at the bridge as if repeated attempts would make the immoveable barrier yield.

  Rhys jumped when he looked down to see the eyeball in the booth. It still watched him through the gap in the shutters. He leaned close, careful to keep his face from the hot steel this time, and whispered, “Look, I’m sorry I told you to shut up. I understand you’re scared in there. I would be too, but don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to get to The Alpha Tower and get these damn shutters up. Just be ready for it when it happens, okay?”

  A quiet voice answered, “Okay.”

  “What’s your name, love?”

  “Adele.”

  “Okay, Adele, I promise I’ll do everything to make sure the shutters are raised. When they are, get across the river. Don’t hang about, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  After a deep breath, Rhys watched as the man defended himself against the three diseased. He checked his watch to see he had less than five hours already. A sharp nod at the woman in the booth and he said, “Okay.”

  Chapter Three

  Rhys’ legs burned as much as before, if not more. Each time one of his feet hit the ground, he stumbled. Without a proper rest since everything kicked off, his body felt like it could give up on him at any moment.

  As he ran—the walkie-talkie in one trouser pocket, the lump of wood in the other—he listened to the prolonged car horn; much longer and she’d kill the battery. A glance at the drawbridge and he saw the creatures as furious as ever, their full attention still directed at the immoveable barrier that kept them contained. As long as they stayed there, he could help the man with the axe fight off the diseased.

  Rhys looked left at the two incomplete towers and the florist’s. The flower shop door remained open, the vibrancy of the stock dulled by huge swathes of red. The memory of when he found the dead woman ran a shock through his heart. Thank god none of that blood had belonged to Vicky. If only he had her by his side now.

  Now that he’d gotten closer, Rhys guessed the man was at least six feet and four inches. Broad shouldered and with thick arms, he stood in front of Building Thirteen and fended the diseased off with the handle of his axe. Like a piston, he punched sharp jabs at the creatures, driving back the closest one each time with a heavy blow.

  The same pattern repeated after each hit; the monsters stumbled back, shook their heads as if to discard their dizziness, and approached the guy again with renewed vigour. The man showed no signs of fatigue, either. He looked like he could go all day if he needed to. His weapon remained his biggest handicap; if he buried the axe blade into the skull of one of the monsters, he’d be left vulnerable to an attack from the other two.

  Rhys panted as he ran, lifted his baseball bat in a double-handed grip, and wound back.

  When he got closer, he swung for the nearest of the three diseased. They didn’t see him coming. The bat cracked the thing’s skull and its legs buckled instantly. The creature hit the tiled floor so hard it shook the ground beneath Rhys’ feet. It fell lifeless and blood drooled from its wide mouth.

  Rhys fought for breath, turned to the other two, and stopped dead.

  The man had jumped to life, kicked one of the diseased to the ground, and introduced the other one to the business end of his axe.

  The heavy swing ended in a wet crack, which split the diseased’s head in two. It parted it down the middle and sprayed blood up in a jet from its crown. The other one got up and ran at him again. He threw a sideways swing at it and the axe’s head dug into the creature’s neck.

  The second one fell and its head flopped limp. Despite the dark-red axe wound, it kicked and spun on the spot, driven by some semblance of consciousness that spurred it on to reach out at the man.

  The man’s trainers squeaked as he moved across the rapidly dampening floor, and he delivered another blow to the diseased’s head. A wet crack, similar to moments before, echoed through the small alcove at the front of Building Thirteen.

  Then silence.

  A second later, the man stood up straight and grinned. “That put the fucker’s lights out.”

  The spilled blood released the rotten smell of the diseased and hot saliva rained down the back of Rhys’ throat. He’d never get used to the reek, especially from creatures that shouldn’t have started to decompose yet. “If I’d have known you were this competent,” he said, “I would have left you to it.”

  The man stared, his penetrating blue eyes cold and intense.

  A chill ran through Rhys as they stood in silence.

  A distant sound of people cut through the tension. Rhys turned around but couldn’t see them. Banging and shouting, they persisted. When he looked back at the man, the man pointed a thumb at the building they stood in front of.

  “It’s the people trapped in there,” he said, his voice low.

  The metal shutters muted their desperation. If Rhys stepped any farther away, he wouldn’t have been able to hear them at all. “How many people across the city are crying for help right now do you think?”

  The man shrugged. “Probably all of them. I’m sure they don’t realise no one can hear them.” He shook his head and snorted a humourless laugh. “If only they knew what was out here; they wouldn’t be so fucking keen to leave.” He thrust a hand at Rhys. “Oscar.”

  Rhys took the offered hand and winced at the death grip he received. Even the man’s hands had thick muscles running through them. “Rhys.”

  Despite Oscar’s heavy scrutiny, Rhys couldn’t ignore the people in the building. When he tuned into it, his guts churned and what little strength he had in his body drained from him. People cried and shouted. People banged. It was l
ike listening to people trapped below the deck of a sinking ship. All the commotion in the world couldn’t free them, yet they persisted.

  A shake of his head and Rhys shut them out. When he looked at Oscar, he said, “We need to get out of here. They may be muted in that building, but if the crowd by the bridge hears them, we’re fucked.”

  Oscar didn’t reply, but when Rhys ran down the alleyway next to the building, he heard the sound of Oscar’s footsteps as he followed behind him.

  Chapter Four

  By the time Rhys reached the end of the alley, a stitch cut into his side and drove a sharp pain up beneath his ribs. He slowed down and gripped his ample love handles. He breathed so heavily he couldn’t get his words out.

  When he looked up at Oscar, the taller and fitter man regarded him with a sneer as if just being in his company was an affront to him. However, he wore a grimace as if he too were in some kind of pain. Rhys looked him up and down but couldn’t place where his discomfort came from.

  Rhys dropped his hands to his knees, leaned forward, and spoke at the floor. “All right, I’m not very fit, okay?”

  When he looked back up again, he saw Oscar roll his eyes and shake his head.

  “You chose to follow me. I didn’t ask you to come.”

  The same cold penetrative stare from just a few minutes ago regarded Rhys, but Oscar still said nothing.

  Sweat stood out on Rhys’ brow. After he’d wiped it away with the back of his hand, he stood up straight and poked his head from the alley. A look up and down the street and he saw the poles that had shot up along the middle of each road remained. They ran a militant line that prevented any vehicle wider than about a metre from travelling through the city.

  From where he stood, Rhys could see the Draw Bridge underground station. The memory of the rats returned—the writhing black carpet, the smell of the dirty animals, their repeated bashing into his feet… A shiver snapped through him.

  The dark road surface and poor light meant Rhys missed it on his first glance, but when he did a second sweep of the road, he saw the huge pool of blood no more than a metre away from him. About three metres in diameter, the dark liquid had a slight reflective quality to it.

  When Oscar stepped up next to him and peered out of the alleyway, Rhys nodded at the asphalt. “It looks like they left someone to bleed out.”

  “If they’d have left them to bleed out, there’d be a body. It looks like they attacked a group of people here.” At first, Oscar screwed his face up, and then pushed the back of his hand to his nose. “It fucking stinks.”

  The entire city stank. Rhys must have gotten used to it already, but now that Oscar had mentioned it, the strong acidic tang of rot returned to his consciousness and snaked into his sinuses.

  “So are you ready to move on yet?” Oscar said.

  A few more deep breaths and Rhys shook his head. “I wish I’d never saved you now.”

  “You didn’t save me, son.”

  Son? They were about the same age. Rhys didn’t respond; instead, he looked at the fitter man. The way he stood grabbed Rhys’ attention; something seemed odd about him. He raised one of his legs slightly, but why? Maybe he just stood that way. Rhys then looked at the two bottles that hung from his belt. Both had a rag in the top. “What are you, some kind of corny action hero, or something?”

  “They’re Molotov cocktails,” Oscar said. “Petrol bombs.”

  “I know what Molotov cocktails are.”

  “You never know when they might come in handy.”

  Not only did Oscar have the ability to blow up a small vehicle, but his axe could clearly do some serious damage. By comparison, a baseball bat seemed pretty pathetic. Sure, Rhys had a good swing on him, but the way Oscar had killed those diseased earlier… Blood still dripped from the axe’s sharp blade.

  “What are you doing here, Oscar? Why are you heading into the city rather than away from it?”

  “I could ask you the same, you know?”

  “And so what if you did? I don’t have anything to hide.”

  Silence.

  “The mother of my child and my best friend are both trapped in those towers. I need to get to The Alpha Tower so I can deactivate the city’s defence system and let the people out.” He pulled Vicky’s security card from his pocket and showed it to Oscar. Rhys noticed the larger man’s eyes widen before he added, “This will get me into the tower, but I need to find a card with a higher clearance level to override the defence system once I’m in there. I’m hoping there’ll be one inside. When I release the shutters, shit’s going to get real.”

  Rhys cringed at his own words. He never said ‘shit’s going to get real’. Besides, if shit were to get real, Oscar had less to worry about than he did. Oscar looked like a man who could cope with real shit.

  Clearly lost in thought, a deep frown on his face, Oscar said, “The mother of your child? So your wife? Your partner?”

  “We’re not together anymore.”

  “Why are you saving her then?”

  Irritation spiked inside of Rhys; of all the things Oscar could ask… A deep breath, and the rush of rot smothered him again. “I’m doing it for my son.” Rhys removed his photo of Flynn from his top pocket and showed it to Oscar.

  The smile looked odd on Oscar’s otherwise stern face, like he’d done it for effect rather than because he actually gave a shit. The guy obviously didn’t have children.

  “He lives with his mum most of the time, so he’s used to having her around. He’s only six and he wants me to make sure she’s okay. I need to do everything within my power to make that happen. If nothing else, I want to be able to look him in the eyes and say I tried to save her. I want him to know I did everything I could.”

  A shrill scream shot through the city. Rhys’ breath caught in his throat and he froze as he waited for the next sound.

  Another cry, farther away this time.

  When Rhys looked at Oscar, the taller man’s blue eyes showed no hint of fear. He poked his head out of the alleyway again. When he pulled back in, he said, “I need to save someone too.”

  The icy coolness of the man made him impossible to read. Just being around him sent a deep unease through Rhys, and he shifted on the spot as if uncomfortable in his own skin.

  “It’s my younger brother,” Oscar said. “He has Down’s.”

  The words were a gut punch and Rhys shook his head. What an arsehole for doubting him. “I’m sorry to hear that, man.”

  “You’re sorry that he has Down’s syndrome?”

  “No, well yes, but I’m sorry that he’s trapped. You must be really worried.”

  Oscar shrugged. “I trained a lot with him. He’s probably better equipped to deal with this than most of the other people on this godforsaken island.” Oscar looked at Rhys’ portly stomach before he made eye contact with him again. “He works in Tower Eighteen. He organises the internal mail. It’s a bit of an outdated job, and they probably don’t need him there at all. He spends most of his days emptying the bins. It really fucks me off because he may have Down’s, but he’s not fucking useless. He’s probably more capable than half of the people he works with. I wish they’d give him a try at doing a better job. They don’t need to create a position for him. He doesn’t need their charity.”

  The glaze of tears reflected off Oscar’s eyes and he cleared his throat. “He’s the most wonderful and kindest person I know. I’d die for him.”

  “You may have to.” The words left Rhys’ mouth before he’d thought about them. When Oscar looked at him with a hard frown, Rhys’ face burned and he dropped his eyes to the Superman Lego watch on his wrist. “Whatever happens, we need to be off this island in less than five hours.”

  A tilt of his head to one side and Oscar said, “Why’s that?”

  Rhys’ breath had levelled out so he stood up straighter and filled his lungs with the stench around him. He coughed several times and came close to heaving before he said, “This place is set to blow. There
’s a countdown before the entire city incinerates. There’s less than five hours left.”

  A deeper frown crushed Oscar’s face and he ran a hand through his short black hair. “Fuck! We don’t have much time. I’m coming with you to The Alpha Tower. If you have a way to get inside, then you’ll need me. Without me, you won’t last more than five minutes.”

  The pros far outweighed the cons. The man could fight. In fact, the man was a machine. “I don’t want you getting shitty about my fitness though. I wish I was fitter, but there’s nothing I can do about it now, so the last thing I need is you bitching about it, okay? I’d rather go on my own, if that’s the case.”

  Oscar’s jaw tightened and his eyes pinched at the sides. Crow’s feet spread round to his temples. “So if you’re doing this for your boy, where is he now?”

  “Did you hear the car horn when you were fighting the diseased off?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was my friend. I asked her to make some noise so the diseased by the drawbridge would remain there. The last thing we needed was that mob seeing you. If they’d have run over, there’s no way I would have been able to get into the city.”

  “Are you trying to give me a bollocking or is there more to this story?”

  “No… sorry, yes there’s more—the person in the car has him with her right now. She agreed to stay outside the city while I came in.”

  “She sounds like the sensible one.” Before Rhys could respond, Oscar added, “She must be a good friend to trust her with the life of your child.”

  Anxiety gnawed at Rhys’ gut, but he nodded through it. The sound of his own uncertainty shook his words. “Yeah, she is.”

  “You’ve known her long?”

  A slight pause and Rhys looked up at Oscar. His voice cracked when he said, “A day. I’d never met her before all of this shit happened, but she saved me. She kept me alive when everyone else was panicking and she’s the reason I managed to rescue my son in the first place.”