by Jacob Rayne
The ones behind her had strange contraptions that glowed at the ends. The air seemed to hum all around them.
While she lunged towards one of the guards in front of her, she felt a stinging pain in her back. The world seemed to vibrate and her vision blurred.
Duggan found himself staring at the body of one of the guards.
Upon the body were dozens of rats, chewing at the exposed areas of flesh and crawling beneath the clothes to get to the hidden meat inside.
They didn’t seem at all fazed by his presence. The guard’s clothes squirmed like they were alive as the rats inside them pulled at the skin.
Yellowing rodent teeth pulled off thin bloody strips of flesh from the guard’s thigh. Most of the limb was gone, just gore-stained bone.
The guard must have been dead for some time, either that or the rats were especially hungry.
The guard’s gas mask moved a little and Duggan saw that one of the rats had squeezed through a hole in the glass eyeholes and was picking at the man’s face beneath the mask.
He had seen enough and turned away, instantly glad to not have the rats and their all-you-can-eat buffet in sight.
The scuffling noises faded into the background as he walked on.
Florence’s world stopped shaking and she realised she was on her knees.
She looked round, saw one of the men with light sticks standing behind her and realised that must have been where the shock had come from.
She got up – her coordination taking a turn for the worse after the shocking – and lunged at the man with the glowing stick. He dodged her clumsy attempt and rammed the stick into her belly.
Laughter echoed around her strangely, like she was hearing it underwater.
The world shook again and she cried out in rage and despair.
She managed to grab one of the guard’s ankles and twisted it so it faced the wrong way.
His scream of pain blotted out the laughter from his comrades.
The world shook again as the man rammed the shock stick into her back.
As suddenly as the pain and disorientation came, it went.
Florence looked up and, once her eyes had adjusted to the shaking, she saw the guards were all backing away from her.
She turned her back, her legs still too weak to support her.
She looked up and saw the guard with the shock stick standing over her, blood pouring from his mouth.
A curved dark blade stuck out from his stomach. The uniform around the spike was already soaked through with blood.
His mouth moved soundlessly, spilling more blood down his chin and neck.
The light stick was useless in his limp right hand.
Suddenly there was a huge ripping sound and the blade impaling the guard came up, tearing his chest and coming out through his right collarbone.
The guard stood for a second then fell in two pieces, blood spraying out from the halves of the convulsing body.
Above the butchered corpse was a dark figure. Its face was just a blackened skull, its eyes darker pits in the blackness. Its mouth was a hideous grimace, full of dark fangs that jutted out at odd angles. It seemed to be staring at her.
Florence met its gaze and instantly felt stronger.
‘Get up,’ its voice said in her head.
She nodded and climbed to her feet. The pain was gone, replaced with rage and bloodlust. She noted the black scythe-like blades on the forearms of the creature that had saved her and wished she had some herself.
‘You don’t need these,’ the voice in her head told her. The creature pointed to the guard she’d decapitated as if to emphasise its point.
She nodded and turned back to the guards, who had scattered upon seeing the fate of their colleague.
The bullets slammed into her as she approached, but she felt no pain, only the creature’s gaze spurring her on.
Roughly 100 yards from the rat-eaten corpse, Duggan found Jake and Mark slumped on the floor.
His heart sank until he saw Mark’s chest moving.
He ran to his adopted son and shook him awake.
Mark groaned and tried to rub at his face but the gas mask got in the way.
‘It’s ok,’ Duggan said. ‘You’re ok.’
Jake wouldn’t wake up, so Duggan slung him over his shoulder and helped Mark to his feet.
He hoped the footsteps in the distance belonged to Zeke.
But he felt certain they didn’t.
Florence tore the first few guards apart with her bare hands.
It was an amazing feeling, the separating of flesh and bone, all the warm blood flying through the air and spattering her skin.
She moved much faster than she had prior to being introduced to the intruder in her skull and felt much more powerful too.
By the time the last guard fell she was coated in a thick layer of blood, both hers and the guard’s.
Roughly half of the guards had escaped but she knew they’d soon perish, whether at her hands or Subject I’s or at the hands of one of the new converts currently changing.
It didn’t matter.
A flicker of a memory flashed into her mind, the leering face of the pervert who’d had her sacked.
She remembered her boss giving her her marching orders and decided it was time to pay him a visit.
The footsteps in the distance echoed strangely, unnerving Duggan and Mark.
They couldn’t tell how many there were, but had a feeling it was more than one.
Duggan adjusted his grip on Jake’s sleeping body and pointed his gun in front of him, ready for whoever came around the corner.
The footsteps suddenly picked up in pace, startling Duggan and Mark.
A gas-masked guard burst from round the corner, bellowing.
He swung something that missed Duggan, but only because he ducked.
They heard a metallic clank as the fire axe punched a hole in the metal wall.
The guard struggled to remove the axe.
Duggan had dropped the shotgun in his hasty duck to avoid being decapitated and he had to put Jake down before he could reach it.
He put the sleeping youth on the floor and bent to pick up the gun. He pulled his hand back as the axe flew towards it.
‘Little help,’ he said to Mark, but the youth was staring in frozen horror at the gas-masked maniac doing his best to chop Duggan into pieces.
Duggan ducked another vicious swing and the axe clanged off the wall, sending a shower of sparks flying into the air.
His arms still felt exhausted from the ordeal with the rope and he doubted he had strength enough to deliver an effective punch.
The point was moot for now anyway – he was on the back foot as the guard flailed the axe at him. The breeze from it fanned his face and he made a mental note not to be any closer to the weapon than he already was.
‘Mark, shoot him, for Christ’s sake,’ he shouted, trying to snap the boy from his trance.
He pulled one of the guns from his belt and aimed it, but the axe man’s next swing knocked the piece from his hand.
His fingers pulsed from the violent impact.
This guy’s going to kill me, he thought.
His bulging eyes scanned the floor for a weapon, seeing only a plank of wood a few yards away. He tried to adjust his position so he could head straight for it, but it took a back seat to avoiding the axe man’s next wild swing.
He bobbed and weaved under another homerun swing and managed to slam a fist into the guard’s belly.
His energy would have been better spent punching the metal wall of the tunnel.
The axe hit him in the shoulder, and luckily it was the blunt end, as the guard had lost track of which way his weapon was facing in his zeal to hurt him.
Pain flared all over his torso.
Fuck.
This guy is going to kill me.
Duggan avoided another swing and stomped his boot into the back of the guard’s legs.
The guard dropped to his knees, giving D
uggan enough time to lunge for the wood.
All around the town those who had been infected by the moth creatures were waking to find that the world had changed.
They were predators, man was prey.
Eager to taste blood and flesh, they made their way onto the streets.
Florence passed a number of her kin on the way to her boss’ house.
She’d found his address on the internet a while ago when he’d first threatened to sack her, but had never dared do anything.
Until now.
The fat, leering pervert was going to regret crossing her.
Her grin widened as she plunged her fist through his window and started to crawl inside.
Duggan grabbed the plank of wood as quickly as he could and spun to face the guard.
The next swing of the axe followed quickly.
Duggan ducked away and swung the wood. The plank smashed round the guard’s head.
‘Just great,’ Duggan said, holding the shorter length of wood now.
He was breathing hard, whereas the man with the axe didn’t seem winded at all.
It seemed like he could keep up this relentless pace all day, which terrified Duggan.
The axe man’s next swing was a wild overhead one, leading to the axe blade clanging off the floor as Duggan darted backwards.
Sparks lit up the dark surroundings, giving Duggan a clearer look at his deranged assailant.
Mark still stood, looking helpless.
Duggan would have worried about him if he didn’t have more pressing concerns.
The axe man’s next swing bit into Duggan’s left arm, almost to the bone. A trail of fire lit up across his bicep and made him cry out.
The guard was slow withdrawing the blade and Duggan managed to wrap his damaged left arm over the shaft of the axe, tucking it against his side.
The guard tried to pull it free.
While his attention was taken up with this, Duggan aimed the piece of wood carefully, aligning the nail on the end with the hollow at the base of the guard’s throat.
He struck forward, slamming the wood in with every available ounce of strength.
The nail pierced the guard’s throat, liberating a thick spray of gore.
The guard’s breaths came in blood-sodden sobs.
Duggan shoved hard, sending him crashing to the floor. He stepped over him and picked up his gun. He spun to the guard, who was now panicking, throwing more gouts of blood over himself and the walls.
Duggan was shocked by the youth of the man behind the mask. He must’ve been eighteen at the very oldest.
The kid wore a mask of pain and anguish as the life flooded out through the hole in his throat.
Duggan pressed the shotgun to his head and put him out of his misery.
Florence found her boss asleep in his bed, a barely-legal girl beside him. She shook the girl awake and told her to get out.
The girl heeded the warning and took off without adding clothes to her naked frame.
Florence’s hand pulled back the duvet and located her boss’s shrivelled scrotum, her grin widening further still at the thought of what was to come.
Then she crushed his balls with her bare hand.
After killing the axe-wielding guard, Duggan went back to Mark and slapped him across the face.
‘What the hell happened there?’ he said.
Mark stared blankly at the wall, not seeming to hear Duggan.
‘Mark, are you alright?’
Finally Mark nodded. ‘I’m just sick of this life.’
‘Well you get used to it, cos it’s all that’s left right now.’
Mark said nothing.
‘It’s better than nothing, Mark, so get your ass moving.’
Duggan slung Jake over his shoulder and they headed into the tunnels, seeking a way out.
Florence relaxed her grip when her boss’s testicles were crushed into a bloody pulp.
She laughed at him as he contorted in the throes of agony.
When his screaming faded to whimpering and whimpering subsided to panicked breathing, she slammed his head against the sharp corner of the bedside table.
She didn’t stop until blood covered the walls and his head was cracked open and his life had ceased.
She gleefully sunk her teeth into his still-warm flesh, aware that the blood would bring about her transformation more quickly.
Longing to join her kin on the streets, she climbed out of the window but suddenly felt drained of all energy. She climbed into the back seat of a car and fell straight to sleep.
Duggan finally saw daylight at the end of one of the tunnels and he followed it until it took him out into the streets.
The morning light stung his eyes and gave everything a surreal reality that he hated.
He’d have preferred the dark; at least then he could have kidded himself that it was all just a nightmare.
His spine was starting to grumble in protest so he set the kid down on the ground and stretched, taking great lungfuls of the morning air as he did so.
‘Didn’t think we were going to see daylight again. Did you?’ he said.
Mark shook his head.
‘Jesus, kid, what’s wrong?’
Mark burst into tears.
‘Come on, man, what’s up?’
‘This is all just the beginning. Life is always going to be like this. Killing and running and being chased and scared. I don’t think I can take this any more.’
‘You don’t know that it’s always going to be like this. These things might all die out in a few days.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Mark said, tears rolling down his cheeks.
‘So what do you suggest we do?’
Mark shrugged. ‘I’m just sick of fighting. Sick of being scared.’
Duggan’s face grew stern. ‘You aren’t giving up, kid. You’re the only goddamn thing this world’s got going for it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean if you want to give in, to lay down and die, then go ahead. But I’m laying down and dying too.’
‘No, you can’t.’
‘I can. And I will if you don’t stop this bullshit.’
Mark stared at him.
Duggan stared right back at him, unflinching.
Tears ran down the big man’s cheeks now too. ‘Hell, I already lost one son. I ain’t losing another.’
Mark looked away, feeling uncomfortable.
‘You’re all I’ve got, kid. So don’t you fucking give up on me.’
Mark moved closer, put a hand on the back of Duggan’s head. He pressed his forehead against Duggan’s so they were eye to eye. This time his stare didn’t budge.
‘If it means that much to you. If I mean that much to you, then I’ll keep fighting. I owe you that much for all your help.’
‘You’re all I’ve got, kid,’ Duggan said, throwing his arms around Mark. ‘I’d give my life for you because you’re all I’ve got, son.’
After Duggan and Mark’s father-son heart to heart, they searched the town centre for a safe place to stay.
The streets were flooded with mutants, easily identifiable by their blank expressions and the tell-tale bulges on the back of their heads.
The sight of them chilled both men’s blood, but they pushed the fear way down and tried to think rationally.
‘We’ve got to get out of town,’ Duggan said, taking the words out of Mark’s mouth.
The teenager nodded. ‘It’s our only hope.’
‘I can’t believe how many of those things there are,’ Duggan said. ‘Hundreds of them. Already.’
‘You never know. They may all die out in a few days,’ Mark smiled.
Duggan grinned at him and hugged him to his side.
‘Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of this dive.’
As Abbott and Hammett’s car rolled into Greenville, the thing that immediately stood out was the sheer amount of people.
It was a marked contrast to Taunton, the town they had ju
st fled.
It was hard to imagine all the people in the main road on which the car now sat lying heaped in piles, all bloodied and broken, but it needed to be done, to give the two men a sense of what was at stake.
‘So, you need to take a left at the pharmacy,’ Abbott said.
Hammett did as instructed, the tyres churning up dust under the glare of the sun.
‘Then it’s on the left of the third junction,’ Abbott said. ‘But first I’d like to make a visit to see my old man.’
‘That’s fine, but are we going to be long?’
‘Nope. Just want to pay my respects.’
‘Sorry. I had no idea he was dead.’
‘Quite alright. Take the next right and head up the hill, you’ll see the white fence that marks the edge of the cemetery soon.’
Upon seeing the faded, trampled fence, Abbott let out a curse.
‘Sometimes I wonder if this world’s worth saving. Nothing but apathy and disrespect everywhere you look these days.’
Hammett said nothing, not wanting to provoke him further.
‘Jus’ park up here, Sergeant,’ Abbott said. ‘We can walk the rest.’
They got out and immediately Hammett felt the oppressive weight of the sun on his shoulders and back.
Abbott took off his Stetson and tipped his face up to the sun, basking in the glow.
‘Ah, I’ve missed that. Don’t ya feel like it’s a different sun here? Tell ya what, I’ll treat ya to a big breakfast ’fore we go see Old Man Abbott. What d’ya say?’
Hammett nodded, he was feeling hungry.
‘Good man. Best get in the car again, it’s a bit of a trek. Don’t want you keeling over from heat and hunger.’
Hammett raised a sceptical eyebrow.
Abbott laughed and clapped him on the shoulder with a force that rattled his teeth.
‘Best get moving, there’s often a queue this time a day.’
Abbott slapped the Stetson on his head and got back in the car.
Duggan and Mark managed to find a big Harley with matt black paintwork on the street behind the housing block.
Duggan whistled appreciatively. ‘Now that’s the bike the Reaper himself would ride,’ he grinned.
