Oedema: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel

by Stuart Keane

  Hannah limped forward, and then stopped, her horrific experience from the past few hours fresh in her frazzled mind. "Cayden, Aria."

  The children turned at the sound of their names, their young faces smeared with grease and dirt, presumably from their excavation behind the wall. They stepped onto the concrete, their bathing outfits dirty and torn, their skin sheened with sweat.

  Or something else…

  Hannah held Mia back and held a hand out to the children. "Stay … stay there."

  Cayden giggled. Aria joined him, but they said nothing.

  Hannah continued, "Did you go in the pool?

  Aria shook her head. Cayden nodded, and laughed.

  "I'm being serious," Hannah asked.

  They responded in the same way, which prompted a reaction from Mia. The girl emerged from behind Hannah and addressed her friends, no smile on her face. "Stop it. Tell the truth, this is serious. Did you go in the pool?"

  After a short pause, they both shook their heads. No laughs, this time. Aria pursed her lips and responded, "Everyone was screaming so loud, and hurting each other. We just ran away from the pool and hid, like you always told us to, if we got scared!"

  "How did you get in there?" Hannah asked. "Where did you hide?"

  Cayden replied this time. "We found a load of metal poles, and a hole with cones around it. There's a cool tunnel in the wall."

  Hannah breathed out. Scaffolding. Maintenance work, just like the ticket seller said. A built-in recess behind the wall. Hannah couldn't help but smile at Aria, at her instinct to get to safety. Clever girl.

  The woman nodded. "Good girl, Aria. Well done. And I'll explain what happened in a bit, okay?"

  The girl smiled, and fell back into silence.

  "They look okay to me," Mia said.

  "They shouldn’t be. They played in the foot bath, before we got to the pool," Hannah confirmed. "We should give them a wide berth, for now."

  "Maybe you're wrong about the water," Mia replied.

  Hannah looked at her foot, convinced otherwise. "Or maybe they got lucky. I'm not sure how, though…"

  "Hannah, Hannah," Cayden bleated, words that escaped his mouth while he jumped up and down. "Look what we did?" He pointed to the fallen wall, and jumped over the metal sheet, headed back for the hole.

  "Get away from there…" Hannah demanded.

  But she didn’t get an answer as Cayden began to pull at another other metal sheet on the wall, the one above the hole they'd emerged from. Aria clapped and giggled. Hannah shook her head and held out a hand, repeating herself, "Cayden, get away from there."

  "Crash, boom!" he yelled, yanking at the metal with his tiny fingers. He struggled to find a grip, but managed to dislodge the tall sheet, it's mooring compromised by the removal of its lower panel. The metal shook, and began to collapse forward, the top spilling forward while the bottom remained in place near the boy's fingertips.

  The metal toppled and sheared into the pipes above, cleaving the rounded metal with tremendous ease. Hannah, prepared for the worst and with one bad leg, dove across the hallway and scooped up Mia, before pulling her aside and retreating for the kitchen door. Cayden and Aria stood beneath the pipe, oblivious to their babysitter's departure, smiling and laughing, both amazed by the stunted metal hanging in the air. Lodged for a moment, the sheet tilted in the air, spun to the side and pulled free, spilling to the floor with a shrieking crash.

  The action tore the pipe, splitting the metal.

  Hannah screamed to the children. "Cayden, Aria … get away –"

  Water sprayed out in several directions, and arced and clattered against the metal walls on both sides. Hannah landed on the ground with a grunt, covered Mia's eyes, and watched on in terror as a jetting geyser of water bludgeoned Cayden in the face, splitting his small head clean in two, down the middle. The flesh and bone disintegrated within the powerful spray, splattering the concrete floor with discarded brain fragments and pink sludge. It reminded Hannah of a strawberry Slush Puppy, a drink served in the cafeteria. Cayden's decapitated body spilled to the ground, the parts touched by water now dissolving with deliberate, but shocking speed.

  With no one in front of her, the water now smacked Aria clean in the chest, obliterating and shredding at her frail torso until nothing was left. A hole opened and widened until her body was no more. Within seconds, her head rolled backwards off her now dissolved shoulders and smashed against the floor like a dropped melon. The skull exploded outwards, spraying the walls and floor with her liquified brains, but not before her young, terrified face shot Hannah a final glance and burst apart before her very eyes. Her arms and legs followed suit, crumpling to the floor and dissolving.

  The water from the pipes hissed and sprayed, lengthening in trajectory and soaking the concrete and metal for a few moments, until it dwindled and ceased. By then, all that was left of the two children was nothing but several puddles of gore on the concrete floor. The water stopped until only a drip remained.

  Drip, drip, drip.

  Hannah uncovered Mia, pushed off her hands, and eased herself to her feet. She glanced around the hallway, her heart thumping against her chest, her stomach dropping to the soles of her feet. The hallway was coated in water; it now soaked into the concrete beneath their feet, creating a dark streak of floor several metres deep from her position. The metal walls dripped with the liquid, their glistening surfaces dappled with beads of water.

  No way through.

  They weren't going out that way.

  They were trapped.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit…

  A small hand took hers, and Hannah glanced down to see Mia by her side, staring at her protector. Those blue eyes mesmirised her once more, searching for answers, but Mia soon ran her confused gaze over the soaked floor, and the dank remains of her friends. She said nothing, and remembered the adult talk from before. The severity of the situation didn’t seem to register to the young girl, something the older woman was relieved by.

  Hannah ran a hand through her hair, and breathed out.

  They were trapped.

  Fuck!

  We have to go back.

  Unless…

  The woman tested her left foot by pushing it against the floor. Despite the squelch of increasingly soggy flesh, and oozing secretions of wetness that seeped from the sides of her foot, it held. She took a few steps and tested her balance. All good.

  What are you thinking?

  I have no choice.

  Mia needs to survive, and we have little time.

  Don't do it.

  It's already done.

  She took one final glance at Mia, and smiled.

  Then, she scooped the girl into her arms, and whispered, "Hold on, okay?"

  Mia didn’t have a chance to respond before Hannah stooped and scampered across the soaked concrete, her wavering balance hindered by the weight of the child and the agonising heat that now scorched her entire leg. Her unsteady feet slapped at the fatal wetness, splashing in the sprayed water and the pooled remains of the dead children. Prickles of pain stabbed at her soles, but she resisted the urge to buckle, to stop. She continued to the other side, ducked away from the dripping pipe, and kicked wildly at the gate, pushing it open. She carried the child out into the open, and emerged in an empty loading bay lined with a razor-wire topped fence. She staggered to the shadowy wall of the building, placed Mia onto the ground, gasped, and collapsed onto her rump.

  Mia turned to the fallen woman. "Hannah!"

  "I'm okay. I just … I just need a minute, okay?"

  But she knew she was out of time. Hannah clutched at her left foot, grimaced as her leg exclaimed in waves of unadulterated pain, and stared at the sole. Had she eaten a lunch, it would have splattered the concrete in that exact moment.

  The base of the foot was worn down to the now-supple bone; only ragged slivers of muscle and molten flesh coated the skeleton, and hung from the mottled collagen in shreds. Blood oozed from multip
le holes in the remaining epidermis, with each widening and consuming more flesh before her very eyes. She became aware of a similar pain in her right leg, for the first time, but all the agony she'd felt over the past few hours was now repeating in a faster cycle through that particular limb. The virus was taking on a faster deterioration, due to more exposure to the lethal water.

  She waved her hand at Mia. The girl approached, but stood still as Hannah held out a hand. "Stop … stop there. Don't come near me. And don't step in my foot … footprints."

  Mia looked at her babysitter, with tears in her eyes. She lowered to her knees and watched the woman. Hannah tried to control her breathing, but failed as the pain crippled her senses. She felt her arm stretch and bend in the middle as the bone became compromised. "Mia, you need … you need to go on. Without me."

  "No."

  "It wasn't a request. You need to. I don't want … don’t want you to see this, okay?"

  "Are you sick?" asked Mia.

  The other arm wobbled and flopped in the centre. Hannah nodded.

  "Like the other people?"

  "Yes. And remember … remember what happened to them. To Cayden and Aria. It's going to happen to me, soon, and I don’t … don't want you to see that."

  Mia shook her head. "I'm a big girl."

  Hannah chuckled, sputum flying from her wobbling lips. She coughed as the laughter sent a searing bolt of agony into the base of her brain. She looked down and saw a searing hole open in her upper thigh. Pink ooze dribbled from the fleshy chasm and onto the concrete, soaking her rump. Mia didn’t seem to notice. Hannah slowly crossed her legs, a routine motion that quickly exhausted her. "I know you are, darling. But even … even big girls shouldn’t have to see this."

  Mia felt her bottom lip quivering, and the onset of returning tears.

  Hannah licked her lips, and felt her tongue start to soften in her mouth. "Do what I said. Leave me. Find a police car or a bus, or someone in a car, and ask them to take you home."

  "No."

  Hannah felt her cheeks shifting, the flesh and muscle dislodging from her skull. The alteration in her anatomy sagged the skin, and allowed cool air to tickle at her now exposed eyeball. "Please, Mia. You need to. You need to stay safe, and staying with me … it's not safe. More people could come. I could get some of the water on you."

  Mia shook her head, defiant.

  "Do … do it. Please. For me. I need to know … know you're safe."

  Mia stood up.

  Hannah felt her eyes sagging closed as the virus went to work on her failing nervous system. She felt her bowels loosen, and her stomach tear open, searing her insides with acid. Veins pulsed and throbbed on her temples as the agony consumed her entire being. She forced a weak smile, one that lopsided her entire, red-hued face, as if she was suffering from a major stroke. "You're … you're a special … special little girl. I'm prou … proud of you."

  "Hannah", Mia said, unsure of how to reply. Tears streamed down her face.

  "Never change … change, okay? You have a g … a gift."

  Mia choked on her tears, and reached for Hannah's hand.

  The woman pulled away. "No. Go. Go … now."

  Mia wiped her eyes and turned away, abiding Hannah's final instructions. She stood with her back to her babysitter, her eyes closed. She listened to Hannah's ragged breathing, which shrilled through her nostrils. Moments before, Mia was unable to see Hannah's face very well in the shadows, but she'd seen enough to know what was happening to the woman, and understood why Hannah had asked her to leave. The breathing behind her began to stutter and, after a moment, finally ceased. She could hear the constant trickle of liquid as it seeped into an unseen drain.

  Mia was left alone.

  "Bye, Hannah," she said, a phrase she had uttered a hundred times before, when being dropped off at home at the end of the day. This time, though, it was different.

  It was the last time.

  She'd never get the chance to say it again.

  The young girl stared at the darkness before her, waited for the tears to subside, and took her first step towards the unknown realms of the adult world.

  TWENTY-ONE

  "What have you done?"

  Luke slowly lowered the Glock, a thin wisp of smoke coiling from the burning barrel and searing at his enflamed nostrils. He staggered sideways and leaned his back against the wall, his terrified eyes wide and hypnotised by the unexpected bloodshed before him.

  Nicky crawled across the floor and arrived at her brother's side. She stood up, grabbed the Glock and tossed the firearm across the room. The weapon slapped the top of the sofa before falling down its back and skittering across the carpet. She attempted to wrap her arms around her brother, but he didn’t reciprocate, didn’t acknowledge her presence. He simply stared ahead with a thousand-mile gaze. She joined him, and that's when they both observed the violence for the first time.

  "What have you done?" she repeated, flabbergasted.

  The young boy was lying on his back beside the stairs, his thin arms splayed beside him, his front and face splattered with the proverbial crimson mask. His unresponsive eyes stared at the ceiling, and into the great nothingness of death. Luke noticed that the deceased whites of the eyes, and his eyelids, were flecked with miniscule blood droplets. The ragged bullet hole in his wide forehead, the blast of which had scorched and butchered the surrounding, supple flesh, still smoked from the spent round within. The stench of bitter copper and burning flesh made Nicky gag, despite her vocational experience with such injuries.

  The back of the teenager's head was splattered across the cream carpet in a veering arch of jettisoned blood, obliterated brain fragments and shattered skull, and somehow, the fake shotgun had rolled and spilled into the crimson mess, laying atop it like a perfect reminder of why the shooting had occurred in the first place.

  The exclamation point of emotion, though, was the boy's younger brother, who stood in the centre of the carnage, his face and clothes splattered with his dead brother's brains. His Super Soaker 5000 lay abandoned beside him, the gaudy green water bucket and yellow barrel also pattered with red droplets. Nicky stood up, her ears sensing a deep hissing sound. She stared at the boy as he pissed his pants, his trousers staining a deep shade of blue as the urine soaked into the material.

  "Fucking hell," Nicky uttered. She gripped Luke by the shoulders and shook him. He didn’t respond, he simply continued to stare ahead. Nicky let go, looked at the boy, and made her way over to him.

  The boy began to cry, and staggered backwards, wanting to escape his dead brother, and the people who'd taken his life. He held his hands to his face, dropped to a sitting position, and howled. Nicky stopped a few inches from him. "There … there," she said, struck for words.

  A sudden ringing attracted her attention. Nicky blinked away some tears, and looked up, her brain registering the familiar sound. She wandered over to the coffee table and retrieved her mobile phone. The screen was flashing blue, but she didn’t recognise the number. She answered it with a quick swipe of a finger. "Hello?"

  "Nicky, babe?"

  Nicky let out an exasperated sigh of immense relief. She sagged onto the sofa behind her, the sound of her husband's voice temporarily lifting her from the carnage that splattered the contents of her dining room and conservatory. A wide smile formed on her lips, pushing the phone away from her bulging cheeks. She readjusted the handset and replied, "Hey, sweetie."

  "Nicky? My god, it's so good to hear your voice … I expected the worst."

  "Me too. Fucking hell, I was worried. Are you okay? What are you up to? Where are you? There's been a load of attacks on the country."

  "I know, babe. I was caught in one, but don't worry, I'm okay. More than okay now I've heard your adorable voice."

  "Caught in one? What do you mean?" She smiled, and added, "Charmer."

  Alex chuckled, and continued, "A car bomb, it hit the pub I was in after today's training. It's fine, though, I'm alive. I only just found a
phone to call you, mine was broken in the blast."

  "Alex! You don't just survive an explosion. There's concussive blasts, minor injuries, PTSD. You need to come home, right now."

  "I can't just yet. I have something I need to do. I wanted to call you to let you know I'm okay, though. I'll be here for a bit longer, until the roads are cleared. I have a phone, so I can keep in touch."

  Nicky glanced over at her brother, who still remained on the carpet, staring at nothing. She decided to warn her husband. "Alex, the attacks. They aren't what they seem. They were a smoke screen to something … hey, Alex?"

  "Yeah, hun?"

  "What's that noise?"

  "Noise?"

  "Yeah, you have some massive interference. I can hardly hear you."

  "Oh, that. It's just the rain, we got caught in a thunderstorm on the way to the car. Nothing major. A bit of rain never hurt anyone."

  The words stunned Nicky into a foreboding silence. She felt her eyes widen as her memory recollected itself from behind the overshadowing curtain of the recent violence. Her hand suddenly wiped at her wet face as her eyes scanned the room and spotted the blood-spattered Super Soaker 5000.

  He sprayed me in the face…

  Have I got Oedema?

  Shit.

  Nicky composed herself and pressed the handset to her ear. "Alex. Alex! Listen to me. I need you to –"

  "Oh, God. No. Nooo. Fuck, fuck! What the hell…"

  "Alex?"

  "Slipknot … what's happening … oh my …"

  "Alex!"

  But the conversation trailed off, as if Alex had removed the phone from his ear. She heard a barrage of distant screams and unbridled anguish, the unmistakable sounds of primal terror. She closed her eyes, straining to focus on the dwindling sounds, and willed Alex to pick up the phone and continue his conversation, to give her a chance to warn him. Nicky felt the hairs standing up on her neck, opened her eyes and stood up.

  No, no, no, no!

  "Alex! Can you hear me? Alex!"

  But all she heard was a dial tone and a static thump as the line was cut.

  Nicky pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, as if the device had committed some unspeakable sin. The screen went blank, signalling the end of Alex's call. She waited for a full minute for the phone to ring again, believing that the last few minutes were a horrible misunderstanding, that Alex was alive, that he was cut off by bad signal or some unseen obstacle.