The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum

by Sharp, David H

  Amber sat at the table, the smells coming from the stove smelt divine.

  ‘Scrambled eggs?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Yes please!’ She shrieked. The thought of soft, fluffy scrambled eggs were the thing of dreams only a day or so ago. Amber picked up her knife and fork ready to attack.

  ‘No toast though, only crackers.’

  Amber tutted as she looked at Young Red, who was curled up at the bottom of the Aga. ‘Is there butter on them?’

  ‘Yes, we have a little butter. Maybe we can try and make some bread later, to make toast.’

  ‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea.’ She nodded in agreement.

  ‘There you go.’ Jake placed a plate of steaming, golden, scrambled eggs in front of his Barnacle.

  Without speaking she scooped up the first big fork full.

  Jake had been surprised the hens had kept laying. He had to go through a few of them, picking the warmest. It was only the fact that they were free range, allowed to feed off the land, that they were still alive. Jake couldn’t work out how they were still there though. Unless his uncle still used the allotment whilst the new owners were in France. It was something that he would most probably never find out.

  The green houses were pretty baron, but as Amber slept in the safety of the locked cottage Jake had sowed some tomato seeds. It may be slightly late in the season, but he still thought there would be a chance of a crop before the autumn set in.

  That’s now how he had to think. Like a farmer. Planning ahead. Rotating crops, and to continue to sow and work the land. He needed this place to be self-sufficient. He thought of his old friend, Jeremiah Rosser. He would have loved a place like this.

  The vegetable patches had been worked on, but he would start to use the raised beds later today. Amber could help him. She needed to learn fast.

  He had also found crayfish pots, which he assumed his uncle would set in the river at the bottom of the garden. Jake remembered reading how the American signal crayfish had flooded the rivers, like a plague of locusts; eating everything in their way and killing the smaller, native European Crayfish. The river Lemon must have been one of those infected rivers.

  Infected. Jake now knew how the European Crayfish felt. The very survival of mankind, hanging by a thread as an infected species rampaged across the land.

  To be out in the open, breathing the clean air and feeling safe was something else though. It had been a long time since he had felt that.

  When he looked up at the skies he still couldn’t get use to the fact there were no vapour trails. No planes or helicopters making a noise. Now it was just birdsong, bliss. Peaceful and tranquil.

  It was only when he went over to the orchard in the adjoining field that again he felt as though he was being watched, felt uncomfortable. That was when he had decided to go back to Old Mill and wake his daughter, who had slept for nearly fourteen hours.

  ‘Do we have any tomato sauce?’ Amber asked.

  Jake smiled at her as she piled the eggs sky high on a buttered cream cracker. ‘No sweetheart. But soon we will be able to make our own.’

  ‘That will be fun.’ She giggled as her teeth snapped down on the brittle biscuit.

  ‘It will Barnacle; we will have lots of fun here, I promise.’ He ruffled his daughter’s hair.

  ***

  Angel held the well-worn leather reins loosely in her hands. No one on the cart had said much over the past hour. Lou Pepper was sat next to her, daydreaming. Naomi was sleeping on the back of the cart amongst the provisions. The mood had gone sullen since departing the huge compound at Taunton.

  Angel, excited by seeing their old friend Jeremiah Rosser, had bounded back up the hill to tell Roger. The wind had been taken right out of her sails though, when he completely disregarded any talk of a rescue plan to try and get him out of the camp.

  In fact she was the only one willing to wait till the evening, and try and find a way in. Everyone else vetoed her ideas, and opted to push on to Bickington and Old mill cottage. This had made her doubly angry, as Roger almost made out that rescuing Jeremiah was more important than finding Jake.

  Angel was seething, how dare he try and suggest that. She, more than anyone, wanted to find Jake. To touch him, to kiss him, to make love to him again. Roger had made her feel disloyal. He reminded her of the old Roger; the arrogant, my way or no way Roger.

  Reluctantly she agreed to push on. After a while to reflect she could see the danger in trying to get Jeremiah out. Plus, she only said she would let it go if as soon as they got to Old Mill they would reconvene, and then go back to get him out.

  Angel knew Roger didn’t want to leave Jeremiah behind, but it was his tone and the way he had said things. That little twat Harry James hadn’t helped matters either, going along with everything Roger was saying. He had just gone from being a lapdog to Lonny Gold, to brown nosing Roger. Angel was pissed off, and everyone knew it. The two boys on their horses were now quite a way ahead, as she had purposely dropped off the pace to show them she could do her own thing.

  ‘Angel, I’m thirsty.’ Lou whined.

  ‘Well have a drink of water. There are plenty on the back of the wagon.’

  Lou sensed Angel’s prickly response. She had heard the shouting earlier, but didn’t really know what it was all about. She just missed Alice, and Iris. People just kept disappearing, everyone was sad. Even Jake had left them. Her heart sank.

  Naomi had heard Lou moaning about wanting a drink, and opened her eyes. What confronted her made her wish she had stayed asleep.

  Running towards the rear of the wagon, which was being drawn at a slow pace, were about eight naked figures.

  Naomi sat bolt upright and screamed. ‘Infected!’

  Angel nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the girl shout. Angry at being scared half to death, she turned her head to reprimand the teenager. When Angel could see the eight bloodthirsty savages racing towards the wagon she joined in with the shouting.

  Grabbing the leather reins as hard as she could, she cracked them hard together, yelling at the horses.

  Standing up out of the bench seat, she screamed at the boys ahead of her. ‘Infected. We are under attack. Infected!!’

  Naomi got to her knees. One of the Infected, a boy of about fifteen, was now within touching distance of the cart. Grabbing a tin of soup, she gripped it in her right hand.

  The crazy young infected boy was frothing at the mouth, but running like the wind. His eyes streaming with blood, he stretched out a bony hand and grabbed the tail gate of the wagon.

  Naomi needed no second invitation. She came down hard with the sturdy can, and caught the boy on the temple.

  Screeching like a drowning cat, he let go of the wagon and fell to the ground. The others hurdled him as they raced ever nearer. The last of the Infected, a rotund older woman, crashed her left foot down onto the fallen boys head. It split like a melon, brains spilling onto the dusty track.

  ‘Faster!’ Naomi shouted, as the group were swarming in.

  Angel heard the girl, but didn’t answer. The horses had started to trot, but it was no use. They were tired and underfed.

  ‘Help!’ Angel screamed at the top of her voice. It worked, Harry James turned around in his saddle.

  Two naked bodies clambered onto the flat bed of the cart. Naomi continued to hurl cans of food at them, but with little effect.

  As she tried to climb over the boxes of dried pasta and rice, a clammy hand grabbed her ankle. Naomi shrieked.

  Lou Pepper looked around, and could see Naomi holding out her hand for help. She was too scared to move, and started to mutter to herself. ‘Row, row, your boat, gently over the sea. ’The rhythmical nursery rhyme almost made her regress. Anything to take her mind off the shouting and the frightening nude people.

  Angel slammed her feet onto the metal foot plate, tugging at the reins as if she was heaving in an aeroplane. ‘ Whoa!’ She hollered.

  The horse came to an immediate and bone shaking h
alt.

  Naomi could feel herself move forward, but managed to hang onto the side of the cart.

  The two infected bodies had no such luck. Flying through the air, the first one, a man in his forties, crashed into one of the horses. His neck snapped on impact; the brittleness of his bones made the head sheer clean off. It crashed to the floor and rolled to a stop next to a stone.

  The second attacker, a woman, caught her head on the back of the bench seat as she somersaulted forward. Her skull exploded on impact, and sprayed everyone on board with congealed blood and bone.

  Lou Pepper, finding she was dripping in sticky liquid, stopped her nursery rhyme and screamed till her throat hurt.

  Harry James was now riding back to the girls, as if he was on the favourite in the thousand guineas. He could see all the bodies flying through the air, and then came an enormous cloud of dust.

  Without pausing, he rode around the cloud and attacked from the rear.

  Pulling out an old cricket bat he had found back at the farm, he gripped the handle tight and entered the dust.

  A naked woman of about thirty five climbed onto the back of the wooden cart, spraying blood into the air as she yelled.

  Angel spun around to see two bodies moving towards them through the dust cloud. Looking down at the foot plate she could see a small round metal holder; poking out the top was an old, black leather horse whip.

  The naked woman was now standing on the flat bed of the cart,snarling and snapping her teeth. Behind her was a man in his twenties; at around six feet four he was a giant of a figure, without an ounce of fat on him. His torso was smothered in dried blood, and dangling from his dripping tongue was a crucifix, pierced into the flesh.

  Naomi helped Lou Pepper from the wagon, both of them running towards the advancing Roger. Lou was till screaming hysterically as bits of bloodied skull fell from her matted hair.

  The naked woman could now see Angel standing at the seat of the wagon. Grunting and groaning she advanced, sniffing at the air and cackling like a banshee.

  She then cried out as something bit her face. It caught her right cheek, making her head fall back. The stinging made her put her hand up to her skin. Touching her cheek she then looked at her fingers, and they were covered in blood.

  ‘Arghhhh!’ The naked woman now screamed. This time the sting caught her neck and made her fall backwards. It was as if an invisible snake was attacking her, snapping and cracking through the air.

  Angel climbed over the seat and gave another sharp crack of the whip. Bingo! Third time lucky. This time the naked woman rolled off the wagon, screaming in pain.

  Angel looked up, only to be faced with the huge savage bounding toward her. His arms, like tree trunks, were only feet away from her face. She quickly pulled back her horse whip, but she would never have time to strike.

  Harry James rode through the dust cloud, and he could see a naked woman falling from the wagon. His cricket bat raised, he could now see Angel. Standing only a few feet from her was a man, about to attack her.

  He dug in his heels, and as he sped past them he swung his willow bat and cracked the naked attacker on the back of the head. The sickening thud was followed by a hollow crack. It was as if he had taken the top off a large soft boiled egg.

  Angel ducked as the head exploded in front of her. The large man fell to his knees. Angel finished the job by booting him off the side of the wagon. Jumping to the dusty floor, she grabbed the head of the fallen woman and wrapped the horse whip around her neck. Pulling hard, the woman hardly struggled before a waterfall of blood emptied from her mouth. She then went limp.

  Harry James dismounted his horse and ran back over to the wooden cart. He could see Angel had finished off the woman, but he could see another two figures looming in the background. Behind them another was already running away. Soon the retreating figure was joined by an older man, but a rotund woman remained. Licking her bloodied lips she cupped her plump breasts and roared at Harry James.

  ‘Let’s do this.’ Angel called over to him.

  Harry was actually surprised. For a split second she had spoken to him like a human being.

  Both of them ran at the infected woman and then parted to cover each flank.

  Angel was first to strike with a lick of the whip. Marking one of the woman’s buttocks she snarled back at her spraying blood. The congealed droplets fell to the floor and rolled into the dust.

  Harry James ran over, surprising her by tossing a handful of dirt at her face.

  Screaming in agony as the grit met her bloodshot eyes the woman raised her hands to her face. Harry James then turned and struck. He hit her with such ferocity that the back of her head caved in. Before he could hit her again, Angel had caught both of the woman’s feet with the horse whip. The infected heavyweight fell to the ground and another cloud of dust shot up from around her..

  Harry came down hard again, this time square in the face. That was it, game over.

  Roger repacked the discarded tins and boxes back onto the wagon. The mood after the skirmish had been exhilarating. With adrenaline pumping everyone was on a high, and even Angel and Harry James had been laughing and congratulating each other.

  After every blood pumping peak there comes a trough. The small band of survivors were now working in complete silence. Naomi had been comforting Lou Pepper, who had hadn’t stopped shaking since the attack.

  Angel had now distanced herself once more from the two boys. All she could think about was Jake. If that attack had gone only slightly differently, that would have been it. This now magnetised her senses, all she could think about was seeing her man. Perhaps Roger had been right; wasting time on a half-cocked plan to rescue Jeremiah only spelt disaster. That could wait.

  She needed to see Jake, she needed a cuddle. She needed to feel his warmth.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Jeremiah had been searching for Sharon Gough for over an hour.

  ‘Get back to your room, Jeremiah.’ Sharon was furiously fiddling with a bunch of keys.

  ‘Are you trying to break into the infected unit?’ The old farmer was astonished at what he was witnessing.

  Sharon ignored the question. Using a small pencil torch to light the dimly lit corridor she tried another key in the lock. Again the door stayed locked.

  ‘You are trying to get us killed.’ Jeremiah went to grab the keys.

  Sharon elbowed her friend in the chest. ‘Leave me alone, go back to your room.’ She snarled back at him.

  ‘Control yourself!’ The old farmer snatched the keys from her. His larger hands, that had worked the land for over forty years, were far too strong for her smaller, more dainty ones.

  ‘Give them back to me.’ Sharon tried to lower his arm.

  ‘Look at yourself!’ He shouted. ‘What have you become?’

  Sharon pushed him. ‘You are as bad as them. Murderers, the whole bloody lot of you.’

  Jeremiah grabbed hold of her left arm. ‘You will get us both killed, woman.’

  ‘Good!’ She yelled. ‘Better to be dead with a clean conscience than alive and committing genocide.’

  ‘Genocide?’ He pushed the young woman against the cold wall. ‘Have you heard yourself?’ Jeremiah paused for a few seconds to try and calm the situation. He let go of her arm. ‘You ideals are misguided, Sharon. These aren’t human beings you can reason with. These are infected former humans. They no longer exist, not as we do.’

  ‘They are sick human beings. We could have been one of them. It’s only a twist of fate that we’re not.’ She looked at the veins in her arms. ‘The blood pumping around our bodies, it’s unaffected by the poison in the air. Does that mean though, that we have the right to slaughter those who have a different blood group? I think not.’ She pushed herself away from her former friend.’ I will not stand by and see sick human beings destroyed, because nobody can be bothered to find a cure.’

  ‘You are wrong.’ Jeremiah wasn’t having any of it. ‘R
emember York? Remember Ruddington?’

  Sharon said nothing.

  ‘They killed children, babies. They killed my son, my wife.’ He moved closer to Sharon. ‘You told me how you found your grandfather mutilated in his armchair. Are you saying that type of savagery, that type of bloodlust, can be cured?’

  ‘We will never know at this rate.’ Sharon wasn’t budging from her ideals. ‘That man, the self-proclaimed Doyen, will systematically hunt down every single one of them until every infected human is dead.’

  ‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Jeremiah had already made up his mind. Sharon had taken leave of her senses and needed to be stopped.

  ‘You don’t understand. I can’t stand by and be a part of this.’

  ‘Then let’s leave. I don’t want to be a part of this fascist organisation either. Their whole ideal stinks, plus I don’t like wearing a uniform.’ He smiled at Sharon, trying to lighten the mood.

  Sharon looked back at him. Her eyes had sunk back into their sockets, tired from overwork. She hadn’t smiled for a few days now, not since the meeting. She had nothing to smile about. She felt morose.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get back to our quarters and sleep.’ Jeremiah was trying his damn best to try and get through to his friend and colleague. ‘Tomorrow we can plan how we are going to leave. We can make a difference somewhere else.' The old farmer held out his hand.

  Sharon could see a small fire extinguisher. It was hanging on a flimsy bracket, secured to the wall where Jeremiah was standing. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t quite believe what she was about to do.

  Jeremiah fell backwards, his ears deafened by a high pitched ringing. Hitting the floor beneath him, his hand fell open and the large bunch of keys slid along the tiles. He slipped into unconsciousness.

  Sharon Gough ran over to the keys and scooped them up. She dropped the fire extinguisher. It clattered to the floor, echoing up the corridor.

  She moved over to Jeremiah, shocked that she had attacked him; she felt for a pulse. It was still there, and it was strong. Rolling him over into the recovery position she wiped the trickle of blood from his cheek.