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

by Michael Robertson

  Chapter 49

  When Vicky came to, her headache sat in her eyeballs and drove pain through them as if they were glass about to shatter. Unable to see much because of her heavy squint, she lay on cold concrete and smelled the heady reek of piss and shit. The fear-laden silence told her exactly where they’d taken her—not that she had to be a genius to work it out.

  Vicky groaned and rolled over. Free of the netting at least, her face throbbed from having been kicked and the swelling added extra weight to her mouth and cheeks. She could still taste blood.

  Despite the very clear reek of the place and the sound of movement around her, Vicky saw nothing. Repeated blinks went some way to clearing her vision. They must have kicked her straight in the eyes.

  “And she’s finally awake!”

  A look in the direction of the sound and Vicky sneered. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see, she knew that voice all too well.

  The raking rasp of her tone was like fingernails down a chalkboard. “Moan all you like, love. It won’t do you much good. We’ve even told your community we have no interest in a war with them now. We have what we want. Bygones and all that.”

  Vicky’s vision finally cleared. Still dark from the night sky above, she looked around at the same small cell she’d been trapped in before. A few metres square, it had a frigid concrete ground and chain-link fence walls.

  Nausea flipped through Vicky’s guts when she sat upright and her head spun. When she opened and closed her jaw, electric pain streaked through it. Whoever kicked her had put their full force into it.

  Vicky looked at Moira. Scraggly black hair, sagging skin, a hooked nose. A broomstick and a black cat would have topped off the image.

  The prisoners remained in the larger cage next to Vicky. All of them sat together as if seeking warmth from one another, and all of them looked prisoner-of-war thin. After a quick scan of them, Vicky’s heart racing because she couldn’t see him, she finally laid eyes on Aaron. He stared back at her from the large orbs in his withdrawn face. Dark rings hung beneath his eyes. His skin pulled so tightly across his skull it formed a paper-thin layer over the bone.

  “Although,” Moira said, pulling Vicky’s attention back to her, “I still quite like the look of your place. Home? Is that what you call it?”

  “You think we hadn’t worked that out?”

  “Oh?”

  “If you didn’t want it, you would have done the one thing that would have flushed us out instantly.”

  “Destroy the solar panels?” Moira said and, before Vicky could answer, added, “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

  “It doesn’t take a genius.”

  “Well, you’re right. Smashing those things would have been like sending smoke into a bees’ nest. We’d have flushed you out in minutes.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be able to use them for yourself.”

  A crooked smile spread across Moira’s face. “And you know the best part?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “They genuinely believe we won’t attack them now.”

  Before Vicky could respond, Moira said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You do?”

  “That we’ll still attack Home, and that the people of Home will be ready for us. But I think we’ve already proven we’re smarter than you are.”

  Vicky forgot her pains momentarily and ground her jaw. She winced at the sting of it and the pound of her headache ran harder through her vision. “What’s with the bullshit monologue, Moira? What are you? A fucking James Bond villain? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice?”

  The reaction seemed to please Moira more than anything Vicky had said so far and she let out a titter of a laugh. “Surely you need to allow me my moment? We’ve meticulously planned this, and the best part is revealing it to you. It’s like thinking really hard about a Christmas present, buying it during the summer months, and giving it to the one you love on Christmas Day, when you’ve managed to keep the secret the entire time. Imagine what Flynn’s face would be like had you done that.”

  Vicky didn’t respond, her heart quickening at the mention of his name. It didn’t belong in her mouth.

  “We made you think we’d attack earlier. When you and your Indian friend were outside, a few of my people made sure you heard them talking about when we would do it.”

  A flashback to the moment when she and Serj had overheard the people from Moira’s community made Vicky’s stomach sink. She looked across at the prisoners next to her in the cage. How long would it be for her to look like that? For her to be so broken she existed as no more than a skeleton in a cell. Apathetic through exhaustion.

  Glee lit up Moira’s face when Vicky looked back at her again. It seemed hard to take anything the woman said at face value, but if the people from her complex hadn’t known of Vicky and Serj’s presence the other day, then Moira still wouldn’t know of it now.

  “You still don’t believe me, eh?” Moira said. “We made sure you saw and heard us that night. We pretended we knew nothing about you being there. We wanted to force your hand. To expose you.”

  When Vicky scowled, it sent pain through her face, but she didn’t say anything.

  While she paced up and down outside Vicky’s cell, Moira spread her arms wide in a theatrical display. “Then we let the diseased out of the pen. Nice idea, by the way; we should have thought of that one. Shame you held back though, eh? That could have worked really well if you’d had the balls to strike early.

  “So even if your little gang do think they can outsmart us and get you back, I can assure you now, Victoria, they don’t stand a fucking chance.”

  Although her legs shook from still feeling woozy, Vicky got to her feet and walked toward Moira. With clenched fists and a clenched jaw, she leaned against the cold chain-link fence and glared at the woman. A time would come when she could set her fury loose on her. When it did, she wouldn’t hold back. She’d unload both barrels on the bitch.

  After she’d tilted her head to the side and smiled wider than before, Moira said, “You want to say something to me, little one?”

  Another look over at Aaron, and she saw the rage in his eyes too. Although, unlike Vicky, he directed his rage at her, not Moira. It robbed her of her fire and she sighed as she dropped her head and looked at the ground. She’d let a lot of people down. In fact, she’d let down everyone who currently trusted her in this life. Maybe she’d come to the end. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. At least Flynn had Piotr to look after him now.

  Chapter 50

  God knew how long Vicky dozed for; it couldn’t have been very long. When she came to—not through any choice of her own, rather because of the rattling attack of Moira dragging something metal along the chain-link fence of her cell—the sky above still looked as dark as it had when she’d passed out. Nighttime for sure, but fuck knew what time of night.

  The same twisted smile dominated Moira’s haggard face. In one hand she had a metal baton—which she’d used to rattle the cage—and with her other hand, she pointed a finger at Vicky. On the end of her outstretched finger hung a key attached to a shoelace.

  Vicky grabbed at her neck to find her key had gone. Of course it fucking had. They’d probably taken it before they’d locked her up.

  “So—” Moira giggled, the shrill staccato of it sounding like someone on the precipice of madness “—not only does your group think they’re safe from an attack from us, but we also have a way in whenever we choose to take it.”

  The community wouldn’t lower their guard that easily. Hopefully Serj had already replaced the locks. It must have got back to him that she’d been taken. Stuart would have told him. Vicky’s heart kicked hard. Stuart probably hadn’t survived. Although maybe they’d released him and the boys as a gesture of peace. They had Vicky; they didn’t need anyone else. She couldn’t think about it. The fact that she hadn’t returned would be enough for Serj to change the locks. They
only took longer with Meisha because they knew exactly where she and the key were.

  Another bash against the cage, her baton exploding in a wash of sound that ran all around Vicky, and Moira said, “Anyway, I’m getting bored of this nonsense. You’ve served your purpose now, sweetheart, and I’m getting fed up of looking at your pathetic face. The longer I keep you around, the greater risk there is of you escaping again. It’s happened once; trust me when I say it won’t happen again.”

  One of Moira’s guards walked to the padlock on Vicky’s cell door, lifted the lock up, and slipped the key in.

  Before he could walk to her, Vicky got to her feet, her hips and knees sore from lying on the hard and cold concrete.

  A raised eyebrow and Moira watched Vicky stand still. “Not going to fight?”

  “What’s the point?” Vicky said as she stared at the vicious woman. “Will it achieve anything?”

  “It may get you tied up.” Moira raised her eyebrows again. “If that’s your thing?”

  The two women stared at one another for what felt like the longest time before Moira shrugged. “Fine. It’s not like you’ll survive anyway.”

  Vicky let the guard lead her from her cell into the forecourt. On her way out, she turned to the other prisoners. Aaron and the others stared at her, and for the first time in a while, he looked at her with something other than resentment. Pity, regret, condolences. They all knew what Moira would do with her now.

  On the edge of starvation, Aaron had got so bony it probably hurt to sit on the cold concrete ground, yet he still pitied Vicky. No one wanted to go into the pit.

  The guard had such a tight grip on her bicep, Vicky had to grit her teeth against the pain.

  Wobbly on her legs as the guard dragged her, the scrape of metal over concrete called out as another one pulled the manhole cover free from the pit with the diseased in it. The call of the infected beasts below rang out into the cool night air.

  The beginnings of a panic attack shifted in Vicky’s chest as she walked. She breathed into her stomach to try to settle her frantic pulse. A headache still throbbed through her skull. The hole got closer with every step and bile lifted into her throat to look at it.

  At the edge of the dark pit, Vicky peered in. Something moved in the shadows. A darker darkness shifting below her. But Vicky couldn’t make out the form of it.

  “It looks like this is the end for us, sweetheart,” Moira said.

  Aware of the guards moving in behind her, Vicky took control of her own destiny, drew one final breath—which had the tinge of diseased rot in it—and jumped in.

  Chapter 51

  The heat and stench of the pit hit Vicky before she hit the ground. The impact of landing ran a shock up her legs and sent shards of pain through her knees, but Vicky ignored it as best as she could and drew her knife from the back of her trousers.

  Although dark in the pit, the moonlight did enough to give her an idea of what she faced. A space no larger than one of the bedrooms in Home, it had maybe fifteen to twenty diseased in it. No doubt a few more since the family had been dropped in there.

  When one of the diseased came at her, Vicky swiped at it with her knife and caught the beast’s arm. It roared and withdrew.

  Vicky couldn’t prevent herself from heaving at the stench of the pit, the hot cloying air drying her throat and lining the back of her tongue with a stale taste.

  The sound of metal scraped over concrete above and the moonlight vanished. She needed a plan.

  Now pitch black, Vicky took two steps backwards and found a wall. She then shifted to the side as the scream of a diseased rushed at her. It crashed into the space she’d occupied with a wet slap.

  The diseased might have had numbers on their side, but they suffered with blindness just like Vicky did now the cover had been slipped across.

  Hot and already gassed, Vicky did her best to calm her breathing down and listened to the sound of the beasts. Agitation clearly shimmered through them, but they didn’t seem to have Vicky’s location yet.

  The clumsy steps moved closer to Vicky, who tightened her sweating grip on the handle of her knife and waited.

  When one finally came close enough to her, she lunged.

  A wet squelch as the knife stuck in the creature and it screamed in response. Not a fatal blow by any means.

  The stench of the place seemed to wind up another level as the monster ran straight for her. This time Vicky lunged with the short blade. She aimed for head height and it worked. The knife sank into what felt like the thing’s face. It turned instantly limp and Vicky withdrew her blade from it as it fell away. Before she had a moment to think, the next beast came at her.

  Although the monsters descended on her, they couldn’t find Vicky like they would have during the day.

  Over the screams and rushing feet, Vicky did her best to hear the next approach. She located it and lunged forward again. Her blow met with a scream and the creature withdrew. She’d have to get better at this to survive.

  The next blow delivered a popping squelch and turned another one flaccid.

  Lunge after lunge after lunge. Some of them missed completely, and as Vicky pulled her hand back to reload for the next attack, she expected the sting of teeth to sink into her forearm.

  Sweat ran into her eyes, she breathed heavily, and her head still pounded from the kick she’d taken to her face, but they hadn’t got her yet.

  The metallic reek of the creatures’ blood changed the stench in the air and Vicky fought against her exhaustion to keep going. Someone had to lose. Hopefully it would be them.

  Chapter 52

  Silence. Finally silence.

  Well, not quite silence. Vicky’s heavy breaths called through the hot, sweaty, and cramped space. But from what she could hear, the creatures didn’t move—not a single one of them.

  Not that Vicky trusted that.

  Blind to the point where the darkness pushed in against her eyes, Vicky’s only sense of the size of the pit came from the echoes of her sounds.

  With her back against the rough dirt wall, Vicky’s heart beat in her throat and she couldn’t pull enough air into her body to recover. Despite her desire to move, she leaned back and tried to slow her breaths down.

  Even now, after what she’d been through, Vicky shuddered to think of the bugs in the pit. A small army of diseased and she worried about creepy crawlies turning the dirt alive against her back. What a wuss! She shuddered and stepped forward a pace.

  It took what felt like a few minutes for Vicky to recover. She held her breath for a second and listened. Still no sound. She had to trust she’d beaten them.

  Cramps ran up Vicky’s right arm from the fight. The grip she held on her blade made her knuckles ache, but she couldn’t bring herself to sheathe her knife. If this world had taught her anything, it was that she should never drop her guard. Ever!

  It would still be night outside. The battle might have seemed to last forever, but it couldn’t have been any longer than ten minutes. Now would be Vicky’s best chance to get the fuck out of there.

  The ground in front of Vicky would be littered with bodies. When she kicked out, she made contact with one. It didn’t move in response to her knock. It seemed like suicide, but she had to push forward. She put her knife in the back of her trousers and tried to find composure in the chaos swirling inside of her.

  Vicky then reached down, grabbed the limp thing, and dragged it into what she guessed to be the middle of the pit. When she’d jumped into the hole, the moonlight gave her a snapshot of what the place looked like and she had to move based on that memory.

  Vicky repeated the process with the next downed diseased, dragging it along and lying it over the limp body of the first one. Hopefully none of the fuckers would wake up. She shook her head. It would serve no purpose to think about it.

  Each time Vicky kicked a monster to check for a reaction, and each time, when it didn’t react, she dragged it back to the mounting pile of bodies.


  By the time she’d dragged the fourth one over, she had to lift it because of the height of the pile in the middle. But she managed it, even with the aches in her exhausted body.

  Sweat ran down Vicky’s face again from the effort of moving the bodies in the hot hole. Every time she brought a new body to the pile, her confidence left her. Would this be the one she wouldn’t be able to lift to the top?

  Now eight bodies high, the floppy, stinking mess of death and rot would hopefully be high enough. Because she’d stacked them crossing over one another, two bodies making up an X, then two more bodies making the same shape, she hoped the structure would hold.

  Vicky dropped her hands to her knees and pulled breaths so hard into her body, her back arched to the ceiling of the pit. As she faced the ground, she felt her sweat fall from her.

  Once she’d recovered again, Vicky grabbed on to the stinking pile of flesh, drew one last breath, and boosted herself up as she started to climb.

  Vicky had nothing to lean against other than the ceiling, so she scrabbled up the bodies as quickly as she could. She found purchase at some points and slipped at others, but she kept her forward momentum.

  The manhole had been cut into thick concrete, so the metal circle of steel only took up a fraction of the hole. Vicky grabbed for the excess stone and caught the lip, which she used to steady herself.

  The structure of bodies wobbled, and when a couple of them groaned, Vicky nearly jumped from the pile. But she heard nothing more. Before the world went to shit, she’d known an undertaker, and he’d told her how air leaving a body could make them groan. Despite the shake running through her, encouraging her to jump down, she stayed still. They were dead. The diseased didn’t have the cunning to pretend not to be.

  Another wobble as Vicky stood on tiptoes and reached up. The bodies still held. When she felt the cold metal of the manhole cover, her nerves settled a little. One final deep breath and she pushed against it.