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

by Michael Robertson

  A step later and it came to Vicky. She dodged to the side and knocked into Flynn behind her. She watched the diseased but heard Flynn scream. Her body locked tight when his yell ended with a splash of water. Cold dread sank through her.

  The diseased had totally left Vicky’s mind and she had only a vague awareness of Piotr and Scoop beating it down. Instead, she turned to look into the river where Flynn had fallen in. She couldn’t see him. One quick check around and Vicky dived in after him.

  Chapter 11

  The tide grabbed Vicky as soon as she broke the surface, and the coldness of the water drew the air from her body. It turned her over as if she were dirty washing on a spin cycle. She tumbled so fast she barely knew where the sky and the ground were. One second she saw gunmetal grey and felt the stinging lash of rain above her, and the next her face went under, where she saw the brown muddy churn of the river.

  As if goaded by the storm, the river turned into a wild and frenzied beast. Vicky swore she heard it growl as it barreled along.

  When she got her head above the water for more than a few seconds, Vicky gasped a deep breath. As she fought against the tide to remain upright, she scanned for Flynn. She couldn’t see him. She opened her mouth to call out and inhaled a huge gulp of muddy water.

  Vicky vomited it straight back out again. It came up as cleanly as it had gone down, wiping its feet by leaving a slightly gritty bile on the back of her throat. Other than that, she recovered quickly.

  Despite the chaos around her, Vicky heard a splash of water accompanied by a loud gasp. She saw Flynn break the surface, his mouth opened wide as he breathed before he disappeared again. Although a strong swimmer, even she found it hard to stay afloat.

  In her desperation to see Flynn, Vicky dipped her head into the murky and rushing depths, but her search revealed nothing. The brown churn pulled the mud up from the riverbed and turned everything into a cloudy soup.

  The banks on either side stood at least a metre higher than the water level, so even if Flynn did get over to one, he’d have no chance of climbing out, especially with the strong current dragging at them like it did. The only way he’d get out of there was if Vicky saved him. But what else could she do other than watch the spot she’d seen him in last?

  The heavy rain dappled the water. When added to the choppy flow, it seemed quite possible Flynn could appear for a second, and Vicky would miss him amongst the chaos already there. There had to be a better way to find him. She dropped beneath the surface again.

  A couple of blinks against the misty fugue and Vicky’s sight cleared a little to reveal something on the riverbed. When she recognised what she saw, she gasped so hard she inhaled another gulp, coughing instantly as she fought to return to the surface.

  Once Vicky had her head above water, she vomited for a second time. It didn’t come as easily as the first. The thick rush of muddy liquid caught in her throat and momentarily choked her. Another hot rush of vomit, chunky and acidic, forced the first lot out and she found her breath again.

  Vicky might have stopped choking, but it didn’t change what she’d seen beneath her; a carpet of diseased lay on the bottom of the river. They’d clearly tried to cross it and failed, hundreds, if not thousands of times. They looked to be drowned, but what if some of them still lived? Maybe they’d only just fallen in and they lay in wait for an errant limb to drag, pull under, and bite into. Maybe they had Flynn already.

  Another particularly strong surge ran through the river and it flipped Vicky onto her back, forcing her to look up at the cloudy sky and bear the sting of the rain against her cheeks.

  Hearing the splash of breaking water ahead, Vicky fought to pull herself back over onto her front. Time seemed to slow when she couldn’t breathe moments ago, but when she caught a glance of Flynn, it moved at light speed, the boy breaking through the water, flailing for some kind of control over his situation, and then vanishing beneath the surface again. She heard his bark of a breath. If she didn’t hurry, he’d surely drown.

  Hopefully the diseased weren’t active on the riverbed. Although what did it matter at that point? Vicky hardly had any other options. She fought to ride the currents, doing breaststroke with the flow of the river to try to catch up with Flynn.

  Each powerful stroke clawed at Vicky’s stamina. The sound of her own struggle echoed through her head.

  Flynn burst up from the depths again. No more than a metre separated them, but despite reaching across the gap, it stretched just that little bit too far. For the briefest second, Vicky and Flynn shared a look. Wild panic sat in Flynn’s eyes and she wanted to tell him it would be okay. However, before she could do anything, he’d slipped beneath the surface again.

  Vicky dived straight after Flynn, her tired limbs on fire as she fought to get to him. Two strong strokes before she reached out and caught the back of his jacket and pulled him in. The long, slim form of a boy yet to be a man came easily enough for her to hold him beneath his armpits.

  Despite the ease with which Vicky pulled Flynn in, she struggled to get him up to the surface. For the briefest second it felt like she might not make it and her panicked pulse hammered through her skull. With her legs dangling down, she imagined a clawing hand grabbing her ankle and dragging on them both. The fear weakened her kick and her lungs felt ready to burst. Then she looked down at the rotting mass of swollen bodies, and she found an extra spurt of energy. She pumped her legs, forcing them both up.

  Once they broke the surface again, Vicky rolled Flynn so he faced the grey sky. She put her right arm underneath his right armpit and reached across his chest. She used her other arm and legs to swim as she guided them to the side. A look over her shoulder and she saw a lower part of the riverbank. A place where they could get out.

  The rain continued to lash Vicky’s face, pebble-dashing her to the point where she nearly closed her eyes against the sting of the pregnant drops.

  When she reached the riverbank, Vicky fought against her desire to flop the second she hit land. There could be hundreds of diseased ready to reach up to them. They had to get away from the water.

  Heavy pants rocked Vicky’s entire frame and she opened her mouth wide to breathe. The muddy riverbank tugged on her every step, fighting her as she dragged Flynn up through the liquid earth. Each movement squelched, even above the hammering of her pulse and the lashing of the rain, and Flynn’s limp heels dragged through the clogged ground.

  A few metres from the water, Vicky fell into the mud with a loud slurp. She let go of Flynn but fought her desire to fall limp with exhaustion. Instead, she rested up on one elbow and watched him as he lay pale and still.

  Before she could do anything else, Flynn vomited, so Vicky rolled him into the recovery position and patted his back. Another heave and water rushed out of him. “There, there, you’re doing so well. Keep clearing your lungs, mate.”

  Close to collapse herself, the scream of a diseased roused Vicky. She looked over her shoulder at the hideous woman. She seemed to be no more than thirty years old and looked like she’d only recently turned. Her clothes hadn’t started to rot on her body yet, and the claret lines running from her eyes glistened with fresh blood. Her light blonde hair and pale complexion made the angry streaks of red on her face stand out from a mile away.

  With her crossbow unloaded but still strapped to her back, Vicky yelled as she used all of her dwindled strength to yank it free. As she spun around to face the diseased woman again, she launched her weapon. The crossbow spun through the air, covering the distance between them in an instant and connecting with the centre of the diseased woman’s face. The impact drove the woman backwards and knocked her to the ground.

  Vicky jumped to her feet and ran at the woman, removing her knife from her hip as she moved. Somewhere between a stumble and a leap, she dived at the diseased freak and drove her blade into her skull. It popped through the bone as it sank into the top of the woman’s head.

  Several convulsive kicks and the woman fell limp w
hile Vicky remained on top of her.

  For the next few seconds, Vicky watched the downed diseased to be sure she wouldn’t move again. She then rolled off her and fell into the thick mud on her back.

  Once she’d slightly recovered, Vicky stared up at the blackening sky. The storm seemed to be getting worse.

  Chapter 12

  Vicky walked back down to where she’d left Flynn and held her muddy hand out to him. The boy took it, his own grip as caked as hers. A hard tug and she pulled him from the cloying mud around his bottom. He came up with a wet squelch. Although Vicky wanted to hug him, she held back. She’d promised she wouldn’t mother him anymore and she needed to stick by that.

  Vicky walked through the mud, with Flynn beside her. Every time she put her foot down, the thirsty ground gripped it and almost didn’t let go. She looked up the hill in front of them to see the other Home guards waiting at the top.

  “Do you think they followed us down?” Flynn asked. He still looked pale, but at least he had the strength to move. They needed to get back to Home before they rested.

  “It certainly looks that way,” Vicky replied.

  The rushing body of water behind them whooshed as it tore along, but the farther they moved away from it, the more its sound got buried beneath the noise of the heavy rain. It fell so hard Vicky locked in a permanent wince against its lashing.

  It might have only been a small incline, but with the weather battering her, and exhausted from her struggle to save Flynn, Vicky’s legs shook with each step up it. A particularly strong gust of wind hit her and she stumbled sideways, nearly falling as she fought to free her feet from the mud to keep up with her quick steps.

  As they passed the downed diseased, Vicky looked across at Flynn and saw him staring at the thing. The woman’s light blonde hair lay as a halo, sprawled out around her. It rested in the soaked mud, blood from her wound turning the surface water pink. Her mouth hung open as if she still released a death call, and her bloody eyes were spread so wide Vicky shuddered at the sight of the two crimson orbs.

  The rain continued, unrelenting, and Vicky looked at Flynn again to see his frown against the elements. “At least we can’t get any wetter,” she said.

  Flynn forced a tight-lipped and humourless smile.

  Each step up the hill took a little more of Vicky’s energy. It seemed like the next one would be the one where she fell and the guards would have to carry her. Yet she managed to keep going, her entire body weight slamming down on the ground with each heavy footfall.

  Flynn’s tone changed when he spoke again, his jaw clenched tight. “I think it’s fucking mental to keep so many diseased penned in.”

  Vicky squinted against the hard rain and looked at the red-faced boy. She saw the insecurity behind his anger, the shifting of his eyes from side to side, the stoop of humiliation. “It wasn’t the diseased in the pen that attacked us.”

  “No, but they attracted that one over. If the pen didn’t exist, that diseased wouldn’t have been there, and even if it was, we would have been able to see it from a mile away.” Flynn left his hair in his eyes as he glared rage at Vicky.

  Vicky didn’t reply to him as they stepped from the mud onto the grassy incline. The ground remained hard from a warm summer, and walking suddenly became a hell of a lot easier. Although, if the rain continued to fall like it currently did, it wouldn’t take much to turn everywhere into a boggy mess. They could really do with solid ground underfoot when they tried to lead the diseased to Moira’s community. A look up at the sky and she saw breaks of blue in the black cloud. Hopefully, it would pass soon.

  “But you can see how we could take down Moira’s army with them, right?” Vicky said. “If we can avoid a fight that will see many of our people killed, that has to be a good thing. I’d rather not die. How about you?”

  A sharp shrug and Flynn looked away as if searching for diseased on the horizon. “I just think it’s bloody dangerous. It could go wrong in so many ways.”

  Vicky closed the distance between them so the others wouldn’t hear her. “It’s not your fault you can’t swim. There’s no shame in it.”

  Flynn spun around to face her, his brown eyes narrowed, his lips pulled back to reveal his yellowing teeth. “No, but it is your fault. Why didn’t you teach me? I think you avoided doing it because you like me feeling vulnerable. It makes you feel useful.”

  The words drove a blow to Vicky’s gut and she balked, but before she could reply, Flynn sped up and marched away from her. He headed straight for Piotr. The large Russian looked down the hill at her for a moment, a twist of pity on his large features. He then focused on the boy and dipped a nod at him.

  Vicky sighed. If she couldn’t be the one to help him, at least Flynn had someone in his corner.

  Chapter 13

  Vicky shivered and hugged herself for warmth, anxiety tying knots in her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have come out alone. The temperature had dropped unusually low for the middle of the night, especially for June. Were it not for the moon running a silver highlight over her wild surroundings, it would have been much harder to navigate the landscape.

  A strong wind tore across the open grasslands, carrying the rotten smell of the diseased with it. The scent whispered to Vicky of what could be waiting in the darkness for her. But she couldn’t focus on what she couldn’t see. Of course there were diseased around, but she hadn’t even heard them yet, so they obviously weren’t that close.

  Vicky stood far enough back from the chain-link fence to remain concealed in the shadows. At least she expected she did. How could she truly tell? Without the ability to look out of the cage with the prisoners in it, she could only speculate on what they saw.

  No one from Home knew Vicky had come here. Since she’d moved Flynn to a different room and they put a key lock on the front door, she could come and go unnoticed, especially in the middle of the night. If she’d have told anyone of her plans, they would have tried to come with her or stop her. No way would she let Flynn come out, and Serj needed to stay at Home as their leader. Besides, she’d be more inconspicuous alone.

  The chill on the breeze worked its way into Vicky’s bones and her entire body clamped as tight as her stomach. Although maybe the shake running through her had more to do with returning to this awful place. To come back to Moira’s community so willingly bordered on madness, but she had to do it. They had to know what they were up against when everything kicked off, and the prisoners needed to know they’d be rescued. Besides, everything would be fine as long as none of Moira’s lot saw her.

  Vicky looked at the small cage they’d held her in when Hugh shoved her down the hill, and her heart rate increased. Whatever happened, she didn’t plan on going back into that fucking cell.

  The larger cage had about twenty prisoners in it at present. From what Vicky had seen during her short stay, that number fluctuated daily depending on Moira’s mood.

  Vicky needed to step forward and reveal herself, but she needed to pick her move carefully. A group of desperate people, if the wrong one saw her first, they’d call out and it would be game over for all of them.

  When Vicky saw the man from the farm, she moved alongside the cage until she stood as close to him as she could without stepping forward. If any of them could keep their voice down, she guessed it would be him. Hopefully he could encourage the others to do the same.

  Large tufts protruded from the lumpy ground surrounding Moira’s compound. Either weeds, thistles, or hard, callous-like explosions of grass. Not conducive to an easy getaway, it looked almost as if Moira’s influence poisoned the very earth around her.

  After a deep breath to still her furious pulse, Vicky hissed at the man she recognised.

  He didn’t react.

  Vicky hissed again.

  This time he slowly rotated his head, his eyes half closed. The movement seemed to take a great effort, and once he’d turned his face out toward the darkness, he blinked repeatedly as if trying to ascertain the s
ource of the sound.

  Vicky took another step forward.

  When the man’s eyes widened, Vicky pressed her finger to her lips. Fortunately, he obliged her.

  Two quick steps and Vicky closed the distance between them. She did her best to hide her reaction to the foul smell of human waste coming from the cage. They probably felt ashamed enough already; she didn’t need to make it worse. The rucksack on her back had weighed heavy with food and water, and now she’d got to the man unnoticed, she felt relief to roll the heavy pack from her shoulders and lower it to the ground. She bit her bottom lip as she opened the bag, willing the zip to remain quiet while the man from the farm urged silence from the others.

  There had been bigger bottles at Home and it might have been more practical to bring them, but Vicky knew how small the holes in the fence were.

  Each bottle—just about small enough to fit through the gaps—popped and cracked as Vicky forced them in.

  Seventeen bottles in total, Vicky’s heart galloped after she’d got them all through. Adrenaline raced through her veins, accelerating her pulse and making her hands shake as she passed the other supplies through to the man. Carrots, cucumbers, cooked potatoes, and a small amount of cured rabbit before she’d exhausted her stash. “Sorry it’s not more,” she said, “but I’ll be back again, I promise.”

  Wide and tired eyes stared at Vicky from sunken faces. Stray dogs on death row, every one of the prisoners looked to her as their saviour. Every one of them begged to be taken home.

  “Listen,” Vicky said, “we have a plan and we’ll get you all out of here. A day or two longer and we’re going to storm this place, so be ready, yeah?”

  None of the prisoners spoke. Hope seemed to lighten their features, but mistrust clearly fought against their optimism. If life with Moira had taught them anything, it would have been that hope didn’t exist in their world. Besides, a few days could be too long for many of them. As if answering Vicky’s thoughts, the low murmur of the diseased in the pit in the courtyard called out to her. They were hungry for more meat.