by Matt Drabble
“The doc came up with what?”
“She figured out what was wrong with people.”
“Where is she now?” Anderson asked as he wiped the blood from his face.
“She’s gone into town to try and help the others.”
“Has she now…” Anderson pondered.
Caleb’s attention was focussed fully on Quinn, so much so that he didn’t notice Anderson’s inflection or hear the man close the staff room door behind him.
Caleb brushed the hair from his friend’s face gently and checked her pulse and breathing. She appeared to be unconscious but stable. Her eyelids were flickering occasionally, but her chest was rising in shallow heaves.
“We need to get her somewhere safe,” Anderson said, joining him.
“What were you doing here?” Caleb asked without turning around.
“I found her in the woods. She looked like she’d fallen. I figured that this place might be safer than town.”
“Well, we should get her back to Clayton. I want the doc to look at her.”
“Is that safe? I mean, we don’t know what’s happening in town right now. What if the doc didn’t even make it back?”
Caleb considered the thought.
“So what do you suggest?” he asked after a moment’s pause.
“There’s a boat down at the docks. I saw it earlier. Why don’t I take Quinn down there while you check on the doc? Hopefully she’s okay, but even if she is, I’m guessing that she could use your help.”
“Maybe.”
“Look, I’ll wait at the docks for what..., an hour? If you aren’t there then, I will take Quinn across to the mainland. At least you’ll know she’s safe,” Anderson offered.
Caleb thought about the man’s words before deciding they made sense. He didn’t know what Simmons had run into in town, but Anderson was right: she might need him, and his place was where she was right now. As much as he wanted to stay with Quinn, his duty was with Clayton and her people. He had to see what was left.
“Okay,” he finally replied, with no little reluctance. “You take her down there and wait an hour but not a second more. But if you come across any trouble, then you haul ass and get her across the water. Clear?”
“I promise you, Constable,” Anderson said with a small odd smile that Caleb, who was deep in thought, didn’t seem to notice. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”
CHAPTER 28
Last orders
Cooper edged his way down the steps to the shelter. His heart was pounding as he crept downwards towards the door. It was hard to believe that he was here and not running away.
The shelter appeared to be quiet, and there were no sounds of fighting coming from inside. He couldn’t help but think that it would be better for him if everyone was already down inside; he wasn’t that much of a changed man.
He reached out to find that the door was unlocked. Maybe everyone had already left, hence the quiet, but he couldn’t be sure so he eased the door open as quietly as possible.
The door squeaked a little and he flinched, but nothing came rushing out of the darkness inside so he reached inside.
Simmons had assured him that the lever for the homemade sprinkler system was just inside the door, so he gingerly slipped his hand inside the shelter.
He moved his hand up and down, blindly searching for the lever without having to step inside. There was an unpleasant odour leaking out but he ignored both the smell and what it might mean.
His shoulder was pressed against the doorframe as he held the door open just enough to slip his arm inside. His fingers brushed what had to be the lever and his fingers gripped it gratefully.
“Easy-peasy,” he breathed to himself.
His words were, however, premature as a blood-smeared hand shot out of the dark shelter and clamped onto his arm. He screamed in a high-pitched tone and tried to yank his arm free, but the bloody hand had a painfully hard grip as fingernails bit deeply into his flesh.
He placed a foot against the doorframe and tried to add leverage but to no avail. He kept his shoulder against the door so as to keep it closed as much as possible, even at the expense of his own arm.
“Did you do it yet?” Simmons called down to him.
“Someone’s got me!” he yelled back in panic as he struggled.
“Can you feel the lever?”
“I had it, but now someone’s got me!”
“Then pull it! It’s your best hope.”
Cooper opened his mouth to shout an insult at the woman, but instead, he opened his mouth and screamed as the person inside bit down deeply into his forearm.
Through the pain, he knew that the doc was right. If he got his arm free and pulled it out, then he’d have to open the door and God only knew what would come spilling out.
His fingers groped around the wall as he tried to ignore the pain of teeth tearing into tender flesh. He brushed it once… twice… then he gripped it and pulled hard.
The reaction was instant as gallon after gallon of water emptied into the shelter, dosing those inside. It seemed to take an age, but finally, his assailant released his arm and he yanked it free, the blood acting as a lubricant to slip it through the narrow door crack.
“Now what?” he asked, keeping his body weight pressed against the door as someone thudded hard against it from the other side.
“We wait and we pray that my formula wasn’t watered down too much!” Simmons called down in a tired voice as Cooper struggled to keep the door shut.
----------
Caleb ran back to town as fast as he could manage. He hated leaving Quinn, especially in her almost catatonic state, but he felt like he had little choice. If he’d slung her over his shoulder and brought her into Clayton, he couldn’t very well defend the two of them with one hand if they were walking into a warzone.
Anderson Jennings was somewhat of a coward, but at least he was harmless, and Caleb was counting on the man’s sense of self-preservation to keep Quinn safe. He’d said that there was a boat in the harbour so at least there was a way off the island for Quinn.
Simmons had said that she was heading back to the shelter, so that’s where he headed for.
He headed nervously towards the shelter underneath but did so carefully, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. If the doc was right, and there was an infection at work, then the people of Clayton could indeed be as dangerous as the Niners by now.
His mind was constantly trying to get through to him with rational thoughts, but he simply didn’t have the time to deal with them right now. He couldn’t stop or slow down until his people were safe; the questions would all have to wait.
The awning outside the general store had been ripped apart by the storm and lay in several pieces strewn across the flooded Main Street.
He stopped and picked up a large strip of metal that felt reassuringly heavy in his hands. It wasn’t much of a weapon but it would have to do for now.
When he arrived at Casey’s Bar, he found the place deserted and oddly silent.
He slipped carefully around the back and headed towards the shelter entrance. He held his breath as he took the steps one at a time, his ears craning for any sound of threat, unwilling to take any chances.
The morning sun was still low and the light was dim as he ventured below street level. Someone moved out of the shelter doorway with blood smeared over them, and Caleb simply reacted. He swung his makeshift weapon but slipped on the wet last step in his eagerness and alarm.
“WHOA!” Cooper yelled out as he ducked away.
“Are you... You?” Caleb demanded as he held the metal strip up in a batter’s stance.
“What the hell does that mean?” Cooper replied, confused.
“What happed to your arm?” Caleb asked warily.
“Some bastard bit me.”
Caleb tensed again, concerned that the man might have been infected.
“It’s quite alright, Constable,” Simmons yelled out from inside the shelter.
“I think we can give the all clear - here, at least.”
“Doc? You sure?”
“Quite so, for now anyways,” she said, emerging out of the darkened shelter. “I thought I told you to get that generator running?” she said to Cooper.
“I know, I know! I’m going,” he whined. “What about my arm?”
“It’s a flesh wound, you baby. I want the lights back on down here for the real injuries. Now go!”
Cooper marched off, muttering under his breath but obeying orders.
“He’s not so bad,” Simmons said to Caleb when they were alone.
“That’s a statement I never thought I’d hear, but I guess we’re now in a world of the bizarre. How bad is it in there?” he asked, leaning past her and trying to peer inside.
“It’s not good,” she replied, sighing heavily. “But I guess it could have been worse.”
“How bad is not good?”
“Four dead, but one looks to be a heart attack. Lot of superficial wounds - cuts, bruising and a few broken bones - but most will live, although I don’t know how many will ever sleep again.” She leaned in closer to him and dropped her volume.
“They were shut in there together in the dark, Caleb; not all were infected, so God only knows what went on in there. There’s a lot of torn clothing and shameful faces. I only pray that most of them don’t remember either what they did or what was done to them.”
“How did you fix them?”
“The sprinkler system.”
“Smart.”
“I have my moments. What about Quinn? Where is she?”
“I found her with Anderson Jennings. He’s keeping her safe. Come to think of it, I’d better get down to the docks before he disappears with her.”
“Was she infected?”
“Yes, but the syringe seemed to work, albeit a little slower than here,” he said as Cooper got the generator going. The shelter was suddenly flooded with light, and he was able to stare inside at the shocked and traumatised faces.
“Slower?”
“Yes. She seemed to be unconscious. Why? How quickly did the others react?” he asked, concerned.
“Pretty much right away with the first subject that I injected. The formula was watered down here so it took a few minutes longer, but people came around pretty quickly. I’m worried that Quinn didn’t.”
“Well, I’ll go fetch her,” he said, turning away.
He stopped in his tracks as his mind tried to reach him again. Something felt wrong here. No, that was crazy… everything was wrong, but something else - something small - was nagging at him.
“What is it?” Simmons asked when she saw him pause.
“I don’t know..., something..., something someone said, I think.” And then it hit him. “Anderson said something at the mill: he said she was infected like the others but worse.”
“He used that word?”
“Worse, yes.”
“No, he said infected?”
Caleb nodded in reply.
“How could he know?” Simmons asked, her face wide and puzzled.
“Know what?”
“How could he know it was an infection? As far as everyone knew, it was just the Niners going crazy. Isn’t that what we all thought? How could Anderson Jennings know it was an infection?”
A silent moment passed between them as they both processed the thought inside exhausted minds.
“Maybe it was just a turn of phrase?” Caleb offered.
“Maybe,” Simmons replied.
“I mean, of all the people on the island, can you honestly picture Anderson Jennings as any kind of evil mastermind?”
Knowing the man, the very thought made them both smile - albeit tiredly.
“Look, you go and fetch them. Bring Quinn to me when you get back,” Simmons said, patting his arm gently. “I should really take a look at her, just to be safe. I’m sure that there’s nothing wrong.”
“Okay, I’ll see if I can raise the mainland from the docks. If not, then I’ll send Anderson to fetch help. And Doc? Be careful. We still don’t know how many people across the island are still infected. Keep Cooper near you and don’t wander out too far from here, okay?”
“I need to make more of the formula.”
“That can wait, Doc; you’re the most important person on the island right now and we can’t afford to lose you.”
He turned and left her then, eager to catch up to Quinn before Anderson decided to bolt for the safety of the mainland if he hadn’t done so already.
There were multiple quad bikes that people had used to come into town near the shelter. The storm had sent several flying, but Caleb found one mercifully with keys still in the ignition.
He righted it and started the machine, thanking the heavens for his turn in good fortune; there had been precious little of it going around lately.
As he sped off towards the docks, he thought again about Anderson’s choice of words, but this time he couldn’t quite summon a smile to lips at the thought of the weaselly man being any kind of real threat.
Anderson Jennings had been little more than Cooper Fox’s sidekick for as long as Caleb had known him. Even growing up together, Anderson had been a vague apparition in the corner of most rooms, unnoticed and unremarkable. The only thing that Caleb knew for sure about the man was that his crush on Quinn had lasted all of his life.
It was that last point that now made him open up the throttle on the quad bike and push the machine harder and faster than he should through the storm-damaged woodland trail.
----------
Quinn was existing somewhere between the waking and unconscious worlds. Her mind was trapped inside her body as her physical form tried to repair itself.
Dimly, she was aware of movement as Anderson carried her away from the lumber mill and towards the harbour, but it was only a hypnotic swaying sensation that served to further keep her under.
In the twilight where she currently resided, she was not alone.
Her father and mother were both there, only now they were happy. Her father was young and dry, far from the bitter drunk she had grown up with. They were a happy couple and a happy family, the type that she’d always dreamt of but never known.
Caleb was there too, along with other island kids. The sky was blue and the sun shone constantly and they were happy; she was happy, an emotion that felt alien to her adult self.
It was a place that she didn’t want to leave, a place devoid of pain and fear, somewhere warm and safe where she felt protected.
The events of her adult life had yet to happen, and she knew deep down that if she stayed, then she would never have to live them. Let grownup Quinn worry about death and terror - let her face down the demons of the eternal night. Inside here there was no fear and she never had to feel its bitter sting.
Her toes were dangling in the water as she sat on the beach with Caleb. At times, they were innocent children, and at others, they were hormonal teenagers. There was always love between them - sometimes fraternal and sometimes more physical, but it was always a sweet, warm and tender love.
She could feel a pull towards the light, an exit of sorts and a return to a real world beyond this paradise, but in truth, she had no desire to go to it, and instead, turned back to the shadowy world that had embraced her and given her peace.
----------
Caleb reached the docks quickly and hoped that he wasn’t too late.
He leapt off the bike before it had stopped rolling and was running towards the harbour entrance through the mud and flood water.
“QUINN! ANDERSON?” he bellowed out as soon as he burst through the doors, but there was no answer.
He ran around quickly, checking the building, but could find nothing. He checked the moored boats but found nothing of seaworthiness still afloat. That thought bothered him greatly because Anderson had told him that there was a boat here and now there wasn’t, which could only mean that they had already left.
The place was desert
ed and he stood still, unsure as to what to do next.
He wandered back through the workshop and towards the main office, figuring that he should look for the radio rig while he was here. Maybe he could reach the mainland, or maybe he could reach Anderson’s boat and get him to turn around.
Moving through the office, he suddenly heard a noise and jumped. There was no one else in the room but still someone was moving.
He traced the sound to a tall metal locker over by the wall and crossed over to it carefully. Inside, something or someone was moving, the thudding against the door becoming increasingly insistent.
Given everything that had happened, he checked around for a weapon but couldn’t find anything of use. Creeping towards the locker, he felt compelled to investigate further; despite every instinct telling him to run, he still found his hand reaching out to open the door.
He yanked it open quickly and a man fell out towards him into his arms.
They staggered backwards together as Caleb held the other man up. The first thing he noticed was that the man’s hands and feet were bound and his mouth taped shut.
“Easy, easy,” he said soothingly as the man continued to struggle.
He set him down and removed the tape from his mouth and then set to work on his binds.
“Who are you?” they both asked in unison.
“You first,” Caleb ordered.
“Isaac Baxter,” the man replied. “Some lunatic forced me to ferry him and his men over here then left me locked up! You’re..., you’re not with him, are you?” he asked wearily.
“Caleb Bowman, constable here in Clayton. Wait, boat? You have a boat? Where is it?” he asked, looking out of the window and down at the ruined harbour.
“Over there,” the captain said, pointing out of the same window but away from the docks and up the beach.
Caleb followed his finger and saw that the boat was still there.
“But I wouldn’t recommend going to it. That maniac came through here a minute ago carrying some woman over his shoulder.”
“Wait, what maniac? Anderson?”
“I don’t know the lad’s name, but I saw him from there,” Isaac said, pointing back to the locker’s vent. “Crazy bastard hit himself on the head, lay on the ground when the man he was with came by, and then got up and choked him. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
