The Alpha Plague (Book 4)

by Michael Robertson

  “No.”

  Vicky tensed up when Rhys’s voice echoed through the seemingly abandoned streets. After she’d looked at their surroundings, she glowered at him.

  He lowered his voice. “No.”

  “I thought this nightmare would end eventually.” Vicky sighed. “But it hasn’t. The diseased outnumber us ten to one, twenty to one. Hell, they probably outnumber us ten thousand to one. Sure, many have died, but they’re still the dominant species now. They’re built to survive. If we’re to stop them, we need to go to war with them. If we’re to go to war with them, we need—”

  “An army,” Rhys said.

  “Exactly!”

  “And where will you get one of them from?”

  As she scanned their surroundings, Vicky walked over to the funnel they had set up. Much like the ones they had rigged up back at the containers, they’d tied it to an upright pole outside the petrol station. It made sense to have their water supply in a few separate places. They’d used a funnel to catch rainwater, and it had a bottle beneath it.

  The bottle, although only a third full, would be enough. Vicky removed it and picked the lid up that they’d left beside it. She screwed the lid on, replaced the bottle with a spare one from her rucksack, and put the water in her bag. It had proven the most efficient way to collect water. Although thirsty, Vicky would wait until she’d boiled it later. Who knew what floated in the air nowadays? Better to wait a while longer than to take any risks.

  When she looked up at Rhys, Vicky found him staring straight at her. “So?”

  She shrugged. “So what?”

  “Where will you go?”

  With her bag still off her shoulders, Vicky removed the wind-up radio.

  Rhys’s eyes widened to see the small plastic device. “Where did you get that from?”

  “I found it weeks ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  “I needed time to think.”

  “About?”

  Another look around and Vicky couldn’t see any diseased, so she wound the small black handle on the back of the radio. When she let it go, the message from the day before played out.

  “Home is a place …”

  Vicky waited for Rhys to speak after the message had finished.

  “How do you know it’s legit?” Rhys finally said.

  “It changes every few weeks, so someone’s controlling it.”

  “But how do you know this is the paradise they promise?”

  “I don’t.”

  “And you’re prepared to take that risk?”

  “Rhys,” Vicky said, “I’ve stagnated for ten years now. Ten years! That’s a long time to do nothing for. At this point, I don’t care if it’s a trap or not. Hell, I’m living in a fucking prison in my container anyway. It’s time for a change.”

  Moisture glistened in Rhys’ eyes. “But what about us? What will we do?”

  “This is why I keep talking about Flynn going out with you.”

  Although he looked like he wanted to argue, Rhys dipped his head and looked at the ground. After he’d released a heavy sigh, he said, “Okay. I understand.”

  When he looked back up again, Vicky watched the sadness leave his face and his attention flick to over her shoulder.

  After a decade of scavenging with Rhys, Vicky knew that look all too well. A second later, the roar of the diseased lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.

  Chapter Nine

  Just one diseased, it had its mouth spread wide as it focused on them through the dried and bloody pits that were once its eyes. The creature came at them with the speed of an Olympic sprinter. It waved its arms in front of it as if to reach out to them. Its awkward gait did nothing to slow it down.

  Vicky snapped her telescopic baton to full length with a crack. Although she’d done this thousands of times, her pulse raced to the edge of panic and a line of sweat lifted beneath her collar. One bad judgment and it would be game over.

  When the diseased got to within three strides of the pair, Vicky jumped to the side and brought the baton up and around the side of the creature’s head. Its face snapped to one side, and a wet pop sounded as blood sprayed away from it. Vicky had gotten so used to her weapon, she could knock the wings off a fly in flight with it. She’d also learned to go for the chin. A knockout proved to be the safest blow.

  As she’d expected, the creature continued forward with its momentum before it crashed, face first, into one of the forecourt’s petrol pumps.

  A loud boom sounded out as it bounced off the pump and fell limp. Two of the hoses fell from their holders and clattered as they landed on top of it.

  Vicky loomed over the creature, now just a tangle of limbs and rubber pipes, and delivered a second blow. With a sharp whack to the temple, the balled end of her baton sank into the thing’s cranium and put the fucker’s lights out.

  When Vicky looked up at Rhys, he gave her a gentle nod. They had an agreement—three or less and they’d stay to fight them. It made much more sense than running, and if they could contribute in some way to the eradication of a few more diseased, then they’d done some good at least.

  Rhys had started counting his kills until Vicky told him he sounded like Legolas from Lord of the Rings. He shut the fuck up after that—especially when she added that he looked nothing like the elven Adonis.

  Before either of them could speak, the familiar cry of the diseased cut to Vicky’s core. A chill ran through her as she looked in the direction of the sound. However many ran toward them at that moment, they numbered far more than three.

  Rhys, who stood closer to the alleyway that led back to the field, took off, and Vicky ran after him.

  As Vicky moved, she folded her baton, slipped it into her pocket, and watched Rhys vault the stile. When she got there a few seconds later, she glanced behind to see at least fifteen of the horrible fuckers, their faces strained from how fast they ran. Regardless of how often she’d seen it, Vicky would never get used to the determination with which they gave chase. Nothing mattered more to them than live human flesh.

  Like Rhys had done, Vicky jumped over the stile. Her partner had a good twenty-metre lead on her, but she could see him. As long as he stayed ahead, she only needed to worry about herself.

  As Vicky burst out into the field, she looked behind again to see the diseased funnel into the alleyway. No matter how many chased them, the two stiles and tight space always slowed them down.

  By the time the containers came into view, Vicky’s lungs burned and her head spun. She saw Flynn stand on his tiptoes and look down at his father, and then Vicky. His deep voice called out, “Mum.”

  Although Vicky couldn’t see Larissa, it only took a few seconds for the boom of the weight against the shipping container. The diseased on the other side of the tree line—the ones in the airport—screamed and all rushed forward.

  After a particularly good haul, Vicky and Rhys had taken a week off. In that time, most of the diseased had vanished from the airport. Although, the second they went out again, the horrible creatures returned in force. It seemed that no matter how long they left it, the diseased were always ready to reappear in vast numbers.

  With time to spare, Vicky jumped onto the bottom of the ladder and scurried up to the top of the container to join Rhys.

  Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, Flynn gripped Vicky in a tight hug. “Thank God you’re okay. Well done on another good run. Well done.”

  When Flynn let go of her, Vicky forced a smile at him. Would he be as happy when he heard what she had to say? Because this could be one of the last hugs she might ever get from him, Vicky grabbed him again and squeezed.

  Chapter Ten

  They could only do so much with water and vegetables, but at least they had food. The small allotment they’d made near the shipping containers had provided enough to keep them going for the time they’d been there. In the early days, they’d surrounded the patch of churned earth with cars to box it in. Some
how it had been enough to keep the diseased out and had allowed them to work the land for the past decade. Vicky often looked at the rusty shells that surrounded their food source with an eye to replacing them. All that corrosion had to have an impact on their food. But, like most things in this world, something more pressing always came up.

  The scavenging added flavour and excitement to the allotment food, but with the last of their supplies running out, it had been a barren few days. Vicky tilted her bowl to get the remainder of the plain broth, spooned a lump of potato into her mouth, and placed the bowl down on the floor of the brightly decorated container.

  They had so many spare containers, they used one as the kitchen and one as a communal space to eat and hang out in. When they’d first settled there, they tried to have the kitchen and dining area in the same place, but the smoke got too thick from cooking that they couldn’t enjoy a meal in the tight space afterwards.

  As the last to finish, Flynn ate his final mouthful of vegetable broth and got to his feet. Vicky and the others handed him their bowls and the boy stacked them before he climbed the ladder out of the container. As the one person who couldn’t leave the containers, he’d been the kitchen hand for a few years now. At about age fourteen, they decided he should cook and clean as his way of contributing. Despite Vicky’s previous perception of teenagers, the boy did it without complaint.

  After she’d watched Flynn leave the container, Vicky looked down at the floor. Now that she’d finally told Rhys of her plans, her leaving felt more real than it ever had.

  When Vicky lifted her head and looked around the container, she stared at the orange walls with their crudely painted pyramids. The colour and the act of painting the containers had been what kept them all on the right side of sanity; not to mention the exercise container, and the one they’d rigged up as a bathroom. They had a jug to catch rainwater and although they drank most of it, they also used it to shower with. The triad of creativity, physical health, and personal hygiene seemed to be the reason none of them had lost the plot so far.

  Vicky laughed to herself and both Larissa and Rhys looked at her. “Do you remember the first night here?”

  “Of course,” Larissa said.

  Rhys nodded.

  As Vicky listened to the banging of the diseased against the steel walls, she shook her head. “I thought the noise would drive me insane. It felt like torture that was never going to end.”

  “It still drives me nuts,” Larissa said. “At night mostly, when I can’t sleep and have to listen to those arseholes outside. I feel like we got shafted. In most zombie films, the dead die out after a few months.”

  “But these aren’t dead, are they?” Rhys said with a flat tone. “They’re infected, but none of them have died yet. Well, plenty of them have died, but the virus isn’t fatal.”

  Vicky watched Larissa look at Rhys for a few seconds before she tilted her head to one side. “What’s going on, Rhys?” she said. “You seem sad. What’s happened?”

  The sound of panic rode Larissa’s words, and who could blame her? They walked a tightrope over a world of madness, and at any point they could slip and fall. Before Rhys could reply, Vicky cleared her throat. “It’s time, Larissa.”

  Larissa froze and her eyes widened. She shook her head. “No. No. No.”

  “Come on, Larissa, you knew this time would come. I can’t stay here forever. A decade is more than long enough. I should have gone after the first few months, but Flynn was too young then.”

  “But it’s safe here,” Larissa said, her voice echoing in the tight space.

  Speaking in a whisper to try to encourage the others to do the same, Vicky said, “Look, I get why you guys want to stay here. You have your boy in a safe situation, and who wouldn’t want that for their kid? But I can’t stay living the same day again and again. Wake up, go out for supplies, eat shitty broth—maybe a rabbit if I’m lucky—go to bed.” Vicky knocked against the side of her head when she said, “It’s driving me insane.”

  Before Larissa could respond, Rhys said, “She has a wind-up radio. She’s found a broadcast from another community, and she thinks she should go there.”

  “I am going there, Rhys. They’ve changed the broadcast several times since I’ve been listening to it. There are other people out there. I have to go and check out who they are.”

  With her hand outstretched, Larissa said, “Let me hear it.”

  A glance up at the hole in the roof of the container and Vicky shook her head. “No. Not yet. I want us to celebrate Flynn’s sixteenth birthday before I tell him. I want to see that little boy become a man first.”

  Although Larissa didn’t speak again, she dropped her head in defeat.

  “Flynn’s old enough now,” Rhys said. “I thought we could give him a sixteenth birthday party tomorrow to celebrate him becoming a man, and then tell him. Vicky caught a rabbit today; we can cook that for him tomorrow. Vicky needs to move on, and we need to prepare our son to have a future. He needs to learn how to survive in this world. We can still do supply runs if one of us stays back at the containers. Flynn and I can go out, and you can ready the ladders.”

  Larissa kept her head bowed, stared down at her lap, and didn’t respond.

  Chapter Eleven

  The warmth of the sun pressed into Vicky’s skin as she sat atop the shipping container with Larissa and Flynn. Now she had to live without the comforts of her old life, Vicky felt every change in season. Although over ten years had passed, she often craved the luxury of a centrally heated house, hot water, a working kettle, and food whenever she wanted it. So when the seasons changed, especially when the country heated up again, she breathed in every second of it.

  When Vicky leaned back in her seat, the flimsy white plastic chair bowed beneath her weight. They’d brought the cheap garden furniture back to the containers because it had been easy to carry. Besides, the plastic shit only came out when they wanted to sit on top of the containers rather than in them.

  “Happy birthday again,” Larissa said as Vicky watched her pat her boy’s shoulder.

  Playing the archetypal teenager, Flynn shrugged the attention off. “We don’t know if it’s my actual birthday or not today. We barely know what month it is. We could even be wrong on the year.”

  “What does it matter?” Vicky asked. “That makes today as good a day as any to have your birthday, doesn’t it?”

  Flynn shrugged, always more willing to listen to Vicky than his parents. “Yeah, I s’pose so.”

  Silence descended on the three and Vicky looked out at the diseased below. To eat on top of one of the containers could be seen as provocative. Their presence seemed to stir up something in the mob, which had gotten louder and far more agitated since they’d moved up top. The fuckers bashed into the containers, and a constant boom of bodies against steel sounded out.

  A shake of her head and Vicky looked at Flynn and Larissa. “I don’t know how you two put up with the sound all the time. One of the best things about going on supply runs is that I get away from their constant banging.”

  “Maybe it makes it worse,” Larissa said.

  “Huh?”

  “Well, it’s an ever-present noise for us, so we learn to deal with it. I can imagine getting away from it would make it seem worse when you return.”

  As she paused to listen to the groans and thuds, Vicky shrugged. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of the main mob. “Although, I can’t imagine ever getting used to that.”

  At that moment, Rhys emerged from the kitchen container carrying a steaming pot.

  With raised eyebrows, Flynn looked over at his dad. “What’s in the pot?”

  “Stew,” Rhys said, and Flynn physically deflated. A twinkle lit in Rhys’s eyes. “Rabbit stew.”

  Flynn gasped so sharp, it called out over the heads of the gathered diseased. Vicky looked out across the airport as if to watch the sound run away from them. She looked at the open patches of the runw
ay that would have been taken up with diseased a few years back. Soon there’d be so much grass pushing up through the asphalt that they’d not see any at all. Before long, nature would grow through the buildings until places like London and New York looked like the ruined temples of Angkor Wat.

  When Rhys placed the steaming bowl of stew in front of her, Vicky picked up her spoon and tucked in. As she chewed on the rich meat, she closed her eyes, tasted its strong flavour, and drew a deep breath. They didn’t get meat anywhere near as much as she would have liked.

  ***

  Once they’d finished their stew, Rhys cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. A few diseased down below roared louder for the noise, and Rhys leaned back to shout at them, “Shut up, you noisy bastards.”

  Flynn smirked.

  “Flynn, my boy.” Rhys took a heavy breath as if to prevent himself from crying. “When the world went to shit, I had nothing but your survival on my mind.” When he looked at Larissa and Vicky, he smiled. “We all did. I remember feeling safe when we realised we could live in these containers. But for a long time I’ve thought ‘and then what?’. I mean, we’ve survived, right? We are surviving, but there has to be something more.”

  The words resonated with Vicky, but she refrained from adding to the conversation. Best to let Rhys talk to his boy.

  “Well, that day has come for us to find something more. You’re a man now, son. You’ve grown up to be strong, brave, and emotionally well-balanced. Hell, maybe every kid needs two mums and one dad to turn them into the wonderful person you’ve become.”

  As Vicky watched Larissa cry, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and blinked against the itch of tears. Regardless of what Rhys said at that moment, she had to move on. She’d thought about it for years now, and had purposefully waited until this time. It didn’t matter how much she loved the three of them. It didn’t matter that she thought of Flynn like a son.

  “What I’m trying to say is,” Rhys said, “I’m going to take you out foraging with me.” When he looked at the field behind the container, Rhys said, “At first we’ll just get you farming down there in the allotment, but as you learn to cope with the diseased on the ground, we’ll go farther and farther out.”