The Alpha Plague - Books 1 - 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  A few seconds later, Serj—breathing so heavily he looked like he’d vomit—climbed up as high as Vicky.

  The herd of diseased ran for the pair. The lead one—a large black man so bald the sun bounced off his shiny head and created a sharp glare—reached out for Vicky’s rope as the ground disappeared beneath him. Although he batted the knot at the bottom, he didn’t have the co-ordination to grip on and his legs folded as he fell down the steep hill.

  The rest of the pack followed him over. They moved like a herd of spooked animals driven over the edge of a cliff. All of them made a pathetic attempt to grab the ropes that Vicky and Serj held onto. All of them missed.

  Vicky watched them stack up on the ground below. They turned into a rotten pile of entangled limbs. Every time one tried to get to its feet, another one fell over the top and knocked it down again. Cracks, slaps, and screams came up at them as the bodies collided. She winced as heads smashed against cheeks and knees cracked temples.

  Once all of the diseased had fallen over the edge, Vicky looked back the way they’d come from. A fresh breeze ran across the field they’d just crossed, swaying the long grass. The dew glittered in the bright morning sun. She looked all the way to the woods they’d run through, the grass pressed down along the path they’d taken so many times before. There didn’t seem to be any more diseased.

  When Vicky looked at Serj, Serj nodded.

  After a deep breath, Vicky climbed higher up the rope. The coarseness of it burned her palms and exhaustion turned her arms weak. No matter how fit she got, the run always wore her out; fear had a way of taking its pound of flesh.

  Most of the diseased below them had gotten to their feet; when Vicky looked down, she saw a sea of twisted, cut, and bloody faces. The run through the trees and the collisions with one another seemed to have taken its toll on them. They stared up at her through their red and crusty eyes, and they bit at the air like they could taste her.

  At the top of her rope, Vicky grabbed a second, skinnier rope. Two gates sat below her. The thinner cord in her hand ran to the first gate directly at the bottom of the hill. It stood between the diseased and their route back out of there. When she gave it a sharp tug, it removed the block holding the gate in place. Gravity helped the gate fall forward, gathering momentum until it slammed shut with a loud crash and penned the diseased in.

  Vicky raised her eyebrows at Serj. “No matter how many times we do this, I can’t relax until now.”

  So used to the reek of the diseased, Vicky only smelled them now she’d calmed down a little. The heady stink of rot rose at her as if it curdled the air. She looked out over the pen at all of the other diseased they’d caught. About two hundred of them in total, they made their way over to the newest arrivals, their blank and bloody eyes looking up at Vicky and Serj.

  “I hate the way those fuckers stare at us,” Serj said.

  Vicky’s stomach sank to take in the emaciated ex-humans, the sight of them no less potent despite living with them for years. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? They’ve been in this world for over a decade and they’re still consumed with their desire to get to us.”

  “And it’s no less horrifying to look at,” Serj added.

  Vicky reached out and pulled on another rope. It ran to the catch on a second gate, which separated the new arrivals from the main pen. When she pulled it, the second gate swung open and gave the new diseased access to the rest of their enclosure. It also let the other diseased out into the containment area, but with the outer gate now closed, they couldn’t get any farther than that.

  After Vicky had shimmied down to the knot at the bottom of her rope, she looked at Serj again. “You ready for this?”

  Several shades paler than his usual Indian hue, Serj gulped, his Adam’s apple lifting and dropping again. “I hate this bit.”

  “You’ve done it countless times before and been fine every time.”

  “I still worry I could misjudge it and end up down there with them.”

  “If you do,” Vicky said, swinging back and forth on the rope like a playful child, “I’ll still remember to say good morning to your diseased arse when I come and visit.”

  “Gee, thanks!” Serj said.

  When Vicky had enough motion, she focused on the patch of high ground they’d come from and let go of the rope.

  The moment of weightlessness made Vicky’s stomach turn backflips and her arms flailed as she flew through the air. A sharp jolt snapped through her when she hit the hard ground, solid for the lack of rain that summer. When she turned around, she saw Serj launch himself after her.

  Maybe she hadn’t managed it any better than Serj, but to see him fly through the air—his arms and legs wild, his mouth wide in a silent scream—made her smile.

  A thud and Serj hit the ground, his legs giving way beneath him.

  Vicky held her hand out and smiled at him. “You okay?”

  Another gulp and Serj gasped. “Yep. Although I still stand by what I said.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re insane.”

  Vicky laughed. “I was like that as a kid, you know? Whenever I got the chance to do something nuts, I would. I’d swan dive from the sofa, try somersaults I couldn’t land on the patio in the back garden, throw stones at windows. Although, I’d like to think I consider the consequences more now.”

  Vicky walked back toward the steep slope they’d led the diseased over and stared at the penned-in crowd. She smiled. “But look at what we have now.”

  The sound of two hundred or more diseased groaning and shuffling called through the otherwise still morning air.

  When Serj walked up next to her and looked at the sea of infection down below, he shook his head. “Yeah, just look at them. What an achievement! It looks like a scene from Dante’s Inferno.”

  “Don’t be so soft, Serj.”

  Serj didn’t reply; instead, he backed away and Vicky followed him. They still had more to do.

  It might have been early enough for the sun to still be low in the sky and for the ground to be covered in dew, but being June and cloudless, the day rapidly heated up and sweat itched beneath Vicky’s collar. A thirst bit into her throat that swallowing couldn’t sate; it tasted like dust. She couldn’t see the pen of diseased from her current position. They’d backed far enough away and the sudden drop in the landscape hid it from view, but she could still hear their groaning discontent and smell their rotten stench. It smelled so rich they could have been lying next to her.

  They knew what to do—they’d done it plenty of times before—so without a word, Vicky nodded at Serj and he ran off to their left. A wide arc around the side of the pen meant he could approach it without being seen.

  The sound of the diseased had died down. They’d clearly forgotten about the humans they’d seen in the tree, so when a cacophony of screaming fury exploded to life again, Vicky took that as her cue.

  Vicky walked close to the sharp drop and peered down at the pen. She did her best to remain hidden. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they noticed her, but it would drag the process out even longer. At that thought, her stomach rumbled. She needed to get back to Home for some breakfast.

  Fortunately, their plan worked well that morning. All of the diseased focused their attention on Serj when he appeared at the other side of the pen by the river. He waved his arms and jumped on the spot. Vicky couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. With the newly trapped diseased joining the others in the corner by Serj, she slowly slid down the hill to the first gate.

  While holding her breath and with her heart beating in her chest, Vicky pulled the gate open towards her. The hinges creaked, but the diseased seemed too occupied with Serj to notice.

  Vicky slipped through the opening and eased the gate closed behind her to stop it from slamming shut. That had happened once before; a loud crash, and the diseased had turned on her as one savage force. They’d sprinted for the second, open gate, making it a race between them and her. She’d
won that day, pulling the second gate closed and penning them in. But it had been close.

  In the same way the first gate had slammed shut into its latch when Vicky had pulled on the rope, the second gate had swung open away from its latch. It meant she had to close it now so they could reset the trap.

  The pack of diseased shuffled and screamed as they focused their attention on Serj. It didn’t matter how many times Vicky stood between the two gates, in her current position—exposed until she locked the second one—panic always threatened to reach up and choke her.

  Vicky drew a deep breath, ran into the pen for the second gate, grabbed the middle of it, and dragged it backwards with her. By the time the diseased had turned in response to the sharp groan of the old hinges, she’d already beaten them. A loud crash and the gate slammed shut.

  The diseased rushed over and slammed into the locked gate as if they hadn’t seen it. Vicky watched them as she backed away and placed the block back beneath the first gate, propping it open for their next entrapment.

  She then climbed the hill, her back to the monsters in the pen, her legs aching from the short yet steep ascent. The gate did enough to contain the diseased. The second the stupid bastards realised just how practical their opposable thumbs were, they’d be fucked. Until then, the dumb monsters could be easily contained.

  At the top of the hill, Vicky looked across the pen and gave Serj a thumbs-up. Serj returned the gesture before he turned around and headed in the direction of Home.

  On their way back to Home, Serj shook his head. “You’re fucking insane.”

  The sounds of the trapped diseased came from behind them and rode the air. But they wouldn’t be able to hear them from Home, so they didn’t have to tell the others—not yet anyway. “Yep,” Vicky said, “but it’ll work. Trust me.”

  Chapter 2

  As Vicky walked along the corridor with Flynn beside her, she inhaled the acerbic bite of bleach in the air and looked down. The floor had dents, dirty scratches, and stains, but she couldn’t see a single tear or rip in the blue linoleum. It had held up to over a decade’s worth of use. Other than the sound of her and Flynn’s footsteps, she heard little else.

  A barbed lump lodged in Vicky’s throat as she marched on. Flynn hadn’t taken well to the idea, but—like she’d told him—they needed to do it to move forward. The threat of tears itched her eyeballs, but she held them back. She could hardly cry considering she was the one who insisted this needed to happen.

  When they drew closer to the kitchen, the whir of its large extractor fan called down the corridor at them. Boiled cabbage pushed the smell of bleach away. No matter what time of day, the kitchen always smelled the same. A loud crash sounded out and Vicky jumped; someone had just dropped a metal pan while making breakfast.

  Vicky didn’t have much to do with the kitchen staff. They always seemed too busy to talk, so she didn’t bother. Let Serj deal with them if they needed to communicate at all.

  When they reached the end of the corridor and stepped into the large space containing the kitchen, Vicky looked over at the staff and none of them looked back. Apparently they were like that with everyone—everyone except Jessica. She didn’t need to think about her at that moment, not with her emotions already on the surface.

  Vicky walked through the huge hall, heading for the corridor near the medical bay. Flynn remained beside her, matching her step for step and still not speaking.

  When they got closer, the metallic tang of Jessica’s spilled blood returned to Vicky’s sense memory. She looked at the shitty bed they’d put her on and shook her head. They’d been woefully ill-equipped to deal with anything other than a blister, and even then they would have struggled. Jessica hadn’t stood a fucking chance.

  When Vicky looked at Flynn—his bottom lip pushed out in a slight frown—she saw that he too stared at the medic bay. No doubt he had similar thoughts as her own.

  Once they reached the corridor running parallel to the one Vicky stayed in, they cut into it and headed toward Flynn’s new room.

  Vicky walked into the room first and Flynn followed her, carrying his bedding from where he’d brought it from their shared room.

  Like the corridors, the room stank of bleach. It also had the same white walls and blue floor. She’d got so used to two beds, it looked sparse with just a single bed and a bedside table.

  A cough to clear her throat—which did little for the lump still in it—and Vicky said, “So this is your new room.” She couldn’t hide the warble in her voice.

  Although Flynn stared at her—a heavy scowl darkening his features—he didn’t reply.

  “Come on, mate, you knew this day had to happen. You hate how overbearing I am. I know you’re only sixteen, but I think you’re old enough to sleep in your own room. If you stay too close to me, I’ll carry on being that annoying mum that wants to do everything for you.” Vicky smiled as she looked up into his brown eyes and round face. “When I look at you, I still see the little boy we rescued from a tree. You were the only survivor that day, you know?”

  Flynn continued to stare at her without response.

  “It’s true. None of us have spoken much about it because it was such a harrowing time. Your dad and I arrived at your school and the place had been ripped to shreds. There were bodies of little kids and teachers everywhere. There seemed no way you could have survived. Then your dad thought about the tree and how much you loved to climb. Good job we checked that, eh?”

  Vicky stepped closer to Flynn and hugged his huge frame. When he hugged her back, he damn near squeezed the life from her. “You understand, don’t you?” she whispered to him.

  She felt him nod, but he didn’t speak.

  “And don’t tell me you’re not getting pissed off with me keeping on doing things for you. I need to let you grow up and be the young man you’re ready to be. Otherwise, we’ll just keep on arguing about me getting in the way.

  “Besides, you’ll have Piotr with you. Now we’ve swapped the dead soil in the farms with fertile stuff from outside, Piotr can leave the farm and become a guard. He’ll be a great mentor to you.”

  After Vicky stepped back a pace, she held her hands out to Flynn. She gave his strong grip a squeeze and he squeezed back. A damp film covered his large brown eyes, but he didn’t cry. She didn’t cry either, as hard as she found it not to.

  “We’ll still do a lot of stuff together. As guards, we’ll need to work as a team when we go on missions outside.”

  Silence.

  “I’m going back to my room now, okay?” Vicky said.

  Flynn nodded and lifted his chin. The sad look had left his eyes to be replaced with a detached steely glaze.

  Vicky turned around and walked out of the room. By the time she’d got three steps from him into the corridor, she blinked a single tear. The track of it turned cold against her cheek.

  Chapter 3

  Vicky made sure she closed the door behind her and Serj. They needed to keep the muggy heat in. The humid atmosphere clung to her skin like a film coating, and the air stank of damp soil. When she gulped, she tasted mud on the back of her throat.

  Rufus, the new head of the farm, looked up at them.

  “So everything’s going okay since we swapped the soil round?” Vicky asked.

  A hippy in a previous life, Rufus seemed permanently in awe of nature. His face lit up, his eyes going from half shut to wide open as he sprang to life. “Things have been awesome. I know supplies are low at the moment, but give it a few months and I’m sure we’ll be back to full capacity.” The tall and slender man pulled his long hair away from his face and smiled. “Maybe sooner.”

  Piotr had already given them that information before he’d joined the guards, but Vicky and Serj liked to check in case Rufus needed anything. Whatever happened, they couldn’t afford for the food to run out.

  The heat pressed so forcefully against her skin, Vicky twisted and writhed almost as if she could worm her way free of it. She looked at Serj.
“Right, can we go now?”

  Serj nodded and opened the door back out into the corridor.

  Not cold in the corridor, but the change in temperature cooled Vicky’s sweat-dampened skin as she walked along with Serj beside her.

  Serj held his bottom lip in a pinch, frowned, and stared straight ahead. “I keep worrying the crops will fail again.”

  “Me too. Rufus seems to have a handle on things though. We can catch any problems as they occur as long as we keep checking in on them.”

  Although Serj nodded at Vicky’s comment, he didn’t reply.

  As straight as an arrow flies, the corridor led all the way to the kitchen in the centre of Home. Over one hundred metres away, Vicky could see the occasional chef’s-whites-covered arm or leg as they worked at preparing the food. She could even see through the kitchen to the corridor beyond, the one with her bedroom on it. If she squinted, she could see movement in the canteen at the end of that too.

  When they passed the room Hugh had planted Jessica’s body in, Vicky looked at Serj and reached across to put a comforting hand on his back.

  Serj shrugged it off.

  Vicky listened to the sound of someone running on a treadmill in the gym in one of the rooms farther along. She inhaled the bleach in the air. As a child, she’d lived in the countryside, and every year the smell of muck spreading made her feel at home. The aroma of bleach had a similar effect now. To smell it meant safety. Certainty in an uncertain world.

  “I think we should open that room up again,” Serj said.

  A look at the locked door and Vicky frowned at him. “So soon?”

  “It’s not too soon for me.”

  The tone suggested it was, but Vicky didn’t point that out. Instead, she said, “It may be too soon for the community though. It’s still pretty raw for most people.”

  Serj shot a blast of air from between pursed lips. “Well, they need to get over it, then. We can’t keep it locked forever.”