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

by Michael Robertson

  A flash of a person appeared in Vicky’s right peripheral vision and she jumped back to avoid them.

  Stuart—spear in hand—lunged at one of the two with a machete and he drove the tip of his spear into the man’s face. It sank into him with a wet schlop, and Stuart quickly withdrew the spear as the man fell into the long grass.

  Before Stuart could launch another attack, the second man with a machete brought it through the air in a wide arc that culminated in the middle of Stuart’s crown.

  Blood sprayed Vicky’s face and she flinched away. As Stuart fell, she dodged to the side to get out of his way. Her stomach dropped to see him down and the world blurred in front of her as tears stretched across her eyes. But she didn’t have time to cry. Not now. Instead, she stepped over the fallen Stuart and swung her bat at the man who’d attacked him. A vibration pinged up the bat and the man fell.

  Before the final man of the three could respond, Vicky took him down too. She threw repeated blows at his head when he hit the ground, turning his skull to a pulp in the long grass.

  The fight continued around Vicky, and she couldn’t gauge which side had the advantage. Although at that moment it stopped mattering. The sound lit up the air and rang louder than any battle cry.

  More than one of them, it came from behind Moira’s gang.

  The call of the diseased.

  Chapter 62

  No matter how many times Vicky heard it, the call of the diseased lit up her spine with an electric chill. She squinted to look at the rising sun on the horizon, and although too many of Moira’s community stood between her and the diseased for her to get a true idea of their numbers, the sound and the frantic blur of the scuffle at the back of the meadow indicated there were enough to keep Moira’s lot busy.

  Other than the front line, Moira’s guards turned their backs on the fight with Home and focused on the diseased. A preconditioned response to a formidable enemy, they’d just left themselves at the mercy of Home.

  Those from Home who managed to keep their heads took advantage of the turned backs and a score or more of Moira’s guards were quickly knocked down.

  Before they could attack again, Vicky called out, “Retreat! Get back to Home now. Let them fight the diseased. This battle is over for us.”

  A few people from Home, rocking with their ragged breaths and covered in the blood of their enemy, stopped and looked at Vicky. But when they saw the others turn and run back, they took off after them.

  Even before the first person reached Home’s open door, Vicky heard the sounds of the battle between Moira’s lot and the diseased get louder. Snarls and growls collided with screams and cries.

  Not the first to Home’s front door, but among the first and after Flynn, Vicky stood in the doorway and watched the residents return. Maybe she wouldn’t recognise if some of Moira’s crowd tried to sneak in, but between her and Flynn, they would hopefully pick them out.

  Covered in blood, limping, and just plain exhausted, the people funnelled back into the complex. A mixture of pain and relief painted their faces. Because Moira’s lot separated them and the diseased, Vicky didn’t worry about any of them having been bitten and let them all in.

  When Brian, Dan, and Sharon approached, Vicky clenched her jaw and balled her fists. “Stuart died because of you, you fucking arseholes. I hope you’re proud.”

  None of them replied as they filed into the complex and it took all of Vicky’s resolve to refrain from lashing out at them. She shared a look with Flynn, but they didn’t speak to one another.

  As the stragglers returned—an exhausted Serj among them—the entirety of Moira’s community had turned to face the battle with the horde of diseased. When Vicky saw Moira, her entire frame locked tight.

  Clearly consumed with panic, Moira stood—or rather, hid—behind her army as they battled the diseased.

  A look at both Flynn and Serj and Vicky said, “I need to do this. That woman can’t walk away.”

  A stoic nod from Flynn and he stepped forward.

  “I need you on the door,” Vicky said to him. “I need someone here on my side who’ll let me back in when I return. I worry some of them will lock me out given half a chance.” She looked inside and glared at Sharon.

  For a moment, Flynn looked like he would contest Vicky’s request. Instead, he dropped his shoulders with a sigh and nodded. “Just hurry up, yeah?”

  Vicky took off through the long grass.

  The closer Vicky got to the battle between Moira’s community and the diseased, the more rancid the smell. The diseased’s stench soured the air.

  The long grass whipped at Vicky’s midriff and made it hard to see the fallen bodies from the battle. However, when she got closer to them, the grass remained trampled from the fight and they were easy to avoid. She jumped several corpses in her way.

  Moira—much like the people of her community—seemed more concerned with the diseased at that moment. The witch didn’t even turn to face Vicky as she closed down on her.

  As much as Vicky could have used her bat on the vicious woman, she reached around for the knife in the back of her belt and teased it free.

  Just two steps separated the pair when Vicky raised the blade and yelled, “You fucking cunt!” She drove it into the side of Moira’s head, knocking the bitch sideways from the blow, her long black hair whipping away from her as she fell.

  Some of the people in Moira’s community turned to look at Vicky, but with their comrades falling around them, they quickly turned back to the threat in front of them.

  Vicky didn’t need another chance, so before anyone could register what had happened, she spun around and headed back to Home.

  When Vicky returned to the flattened grass and the fallen people, she jumped over the downed bodies again, her lungs burning with the pain of trying to keep going.

  Back at Home’s entrance, Vicky looked at Flynn and the boy nodded at her. If his face presented an accurate representation of his mood, then he understood Vicky’s need to go it alone with killing Moira. Out of breath and struggling to get it back, she nodded at Flynn. They’d done it.

  Just before Vicky entered Home, Serj grabbed her arm and said, “Look.”

  Vicky turned to see one of their number coming back to the complex and she gasped. “Piotr?”

  The large man ran with a heavy gait, his bulky frame clearly not designed for sprinting. As Vicky, Flynn, and Serj waited for the big man, Vicky’s heart lifted. They might have had a beef, but Piotr had been a good friend.

  When Piotr stopped about five metres short of Home’s entrance, Vicky gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Piotr shook his head and looked from her to Flynn to Serj.

  Dread tugged on Vicky’s body as if the planet’s gravitational pull had been turned up. Nausea rolled through her guts. She didn’t need to see it to know the problem, but Piotr pulled his sleeve back anyway and showed them the bite. “Fuck,” Vicky muttered.

  Flynn cried out, “No! Piotr, please come back. We can fix it.”

  “No, you can’t,” the large Russian replied. “This is the end for me.”

  Tears ran down Flynn’s cheeks and he shook his head. “No, it can’t be. Piotr, please.”

  “I’m sorry, Flynn.”

  Grief stuck Vicky’s words in her throat and she had to force them out. “Thank you,” she said to Piotr. “Thank you for all you’ve done for Flynn. You’ve been great for him.”

  When Vicky looked at Flynn, she saw the boy seemed unable to speak through his grief.

  A confused frown crushed Piotr’s face as he also cried. “I’m sorry, Vicky.”

  “Don’t be sorry; you didn’t mean to get bitten.”

  Piotr looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.” He then turned to face the battle on the other side of the meadow and ran towards the people from Moira’s community.

  Once Piotr had halved the distance between him and them, his right arm snapped away f
rom him in a spasm. Clumsy in his movements, he spasmed again. Another snap away with his left arm, this time as if he’d been jabbed with electricity. His head tilted to one side. Another twitch and he roared.

  Just as he jumped on the back of the pack, Vicky reached across and tugged on Flynn’s arm.

  Flynn might have looked like he didn’t want to follow Vicky, but he didn’t resist her pull either. Instead, he walked into Home with her, his form slumped, his head dropped.

  Vicky pulled Home’s large front door closed and slid the bolts across on the top and the bottom. The only sound remaining came from the ragged recovery of exhaustion as the people in the foyer pulled themselves together. Then she reached up and whacked the button to set the siren off.

  The loud wail rang out, and when Vicky turned around, many of the people there stared at her. “I want to make sure no one gets away. If that wasn’t all the diseased in the area, it soon will be. No way can those fuckers walk away from this. No way.”

  Chapter 63

  Vicky only realised Aaron had come up to Home’s foyer when she moved over to one of the large windows and found herself standing next to him. As gaunt as ever, but much cleaner, he stood in one of Home’s grey tracksuits. He’d washed his hair, shaved his face, and any trace of the stench of human waste had gone.

  Outside, Moira’s crowd were being torn apart by the diseased and more arrived at the back of the meadow, clearly in response to the siren.

  A glassy sheen covered Aaron’s hollow eyes and he spoke with a warble in his voice. “I never thought I’d get away from them. Stuck in that fucking prison, I couldn’t ever see a way out.”

  To touch one of his razor-sharp shoulders made Vicky flinch, but she kept her hand there as she looked into the man’s hollow stare. “You’re safe now. She’s gone for good.”

  “I saw what you did to her.” And without another word, Aaron reached up across his chest and placed his hand over the back of Vicky’s.

  They stood in silence for a moment before they looked outside again. Vicky watched the diseased Piotr stalk the line of guards from Moira’s community, clearly looking for one of them to attack. “Looks like slim pickings,” she said, pushing the words through her grief. “Those on their feet all seem to be infected. Those on the ground are either turning or dead.”

  Several blinks later and tears ran freely down Vicky’s cheeks as she kept her focus outside. The siren rang out as a wet pulse that spread out into the meadow. Regardless of how Piotr had made her feel when it came to Flynn, they’d lost a good and principled man. Home would be poorer for his absence. However, as much as she hated herself for thinking it, her secret had hopefully just died on the battlefield with him.

  “Right,” Vicky said as she wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffed against her running nose. “We need to check everyone for bites.” She turned the siren off. “No one’s getting any farther than here without being checked.”

  “Who the fuck made you boss?”

  Vicky looked into the crowd to see Brian flanked by Sharon and Dan. He glared at her with his usual hatred.

  Exhaustion had lifted Vicky’s emotions to the surface and she couldn’t hold back. “Fuck you, Brian.”

  Several of the people in the foyer gasped and silence descended on the place.

  “You’re a fucking piece of shit, you know that? You, you, and you”—she pointed at Sharon and Dan too—“left me for dead out there when I needed your help. Stuart died rescuing me. He wouldn’t have needed to if you’d done the right thing.”

  “And you’d know about doing the right thing, would you?”

  “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  A twisted expression of disgust and Brian didn’t respond for a few seconds. He then said, “Stuart died because he was too fucking loyal to you. He died because he was stupid.”

  The space went from silent to a vacuum. Before Vicky could say anything, Serj nudged his way through the press of people and grabbed her shoulder so he could drag her closer and whisper in her ear, “Don’t do this now.”

  Vicky turned her back on Brian, Dan, and Sharon and kept her voice low as she leaned close to Serj. “Why?”

  The gravity of his stare cut straight to Vicky’s core and he spoke so only she heard him. “You don’t want this discussion here, not in front of everyone.”

  Fuck! Vicky looked into Serj’s dark eyes and her heart sank. They knew. It must have been why Piotr apologised before he turned. They fucking knew.

  A quick glance around and Vicky picked Flynn out of the crowd. So consumed with his grief for Piotr, he didn’t seem too engaged with the drama. Better it stayed that way. If he found out that Piotr had repeated what he’d blurted out, then he might not be able to live with himself.

  Vicky turned back to Serj and whispered, “Okay. Let’s talk later.”

  Serj nodded. “You go and rest and we’ll sort out whatever needs to be sorted out. How about we meet up after dinner? I’ll make this lot hold off until tomorrow.”

  They would take her to task. A deep breath and Vicky nodded slowly at him.

  “Flynn,” Serj called over to the boy, “I need your help checking people for bites before we let them in.”

  A look back at Home’s residents and Vicky saw a very different reaction to her than what she’d previously seen. How many people already knew? What would they do to her because of it?

  Vicky’s head spun as she stumbled off. Finally, after all these years, the past had caught up with her.

  Chapter 64

  Vicky returned to her room, her head spinning from a mixture of fatigue and fear. Piotr had told the people of Home what Flynn had blurted out. In their minds, she was responsible for the virus’s release. Most people in Home feared her. Many openly hated her. None of them would listen to the truth of it. Not that the truth would make her look much better. Were it not for her, then Brendan or Oscar or whatever the fucking prick’s name was wouldn’t have been able to do what he did. The people would want justice and who could blame them?

  There were many things she could have done with what would more than likely be her last day in Home. But once she lay on her bed, her body seemed to treble in weight and she couldn’t move.

  Not that she slept, she simply stared up at the white ceiling, her eyes on fire from blinking so infrequently. A low-level buzz of exhaustion ran through her body. It sat deep in her muscles, and for the next few hours she felt as if she’d never get up again.

  The activity outside Vicky’s room told her the dinner shift had started.

  It took another hour or so for Vicky to finally will herself to get up and head to the canteen. Wobbly on her weak legs when she stood up, her hunger ate away at her like a parasite. Otherwise, she probably would have remained in her room.

  When Vicky got to the canteen, the place seemed busier than she’d seen it in a long time. Maybe the camaraderie of war had pulled the community closer together. Maybe they needed comfort as they grieved for those lost on the battlefield.

  The monitors showed images of the diseased outside and the sun setting on the horizon. There seemed to be hundreds of the fuckers wandering aimlessly as if in hope of finding something to attack. Vicky didn’t watch the screens for long. She’d seen more than enough already.

  Not all of the faces in the canteen stared at her, but many did. One particularly packed table had Brian, Dan, and Sharon at it. All three of them and all of the people around them glared at Vicky. They blamed her and they probably should.

  If the looks were anything to go by, plenty of people knew what Vicky had done. Hopefully Serj had been good to his word and kept that from Flynn. If he found out, he’d work out they knew because of him. Not that he should blame himself, he didn’t do anything wrong, but he wouldn’t see it like that.

  Vicky saw Flynn in the corner at a table by himself. On her way over to him, she picked up a tray of stew.

  Despite having the taste of meat, Vicky found no trace of it when she ate
the vegetable broth. For a few minutes neither her nor Flynn spoke. From repeated glances at the boy, she struggled to see a way to get through his grief. “He was a good man,” she finally said.

  “I know.” Flynn’s response snapped back at her like the crack of a whip and he continued to stare at his food.

  “He’ll be sorely missed.”

  “Don’t give me that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Flynn looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. “You won’t miss him. You were jealous of him. I could see that.”

  “I wasn’t jealous.” Vicky looked around at that moment to see many people still watched her. Hostility emanated from their dark glares.

  “Why did you look at him like you did, then?”

  “I never resented Piotr for being there for you. I loved that you had someone there to confide in. It just made me sad that I couldn’t be that person. I knew I was always too overbearing.”

  The angry scowl on Flynn’s face softened and he sighed. Tears glazed his eyes. “Yeah, you were.”

  “I’m sorry. Please know it comes from a place of love, however misguided.”

  Flynn nodded. “Piotr always said that to me.”

  The comment made Vicky’s eyes itch with tears, but she blinked them away. This moment shouldn’t be about her. She needed to make sure Flynn would be okay. “You’re a brave young man, you know that?”

  The frown returned and Flynn didn’t reply.

  “You have good morals and you’re a strong leader. You’re a survivor and people like you. You will always be like a son to me, Flynn. I’m sorry if that’s made you feel awkward, but know I love you without condition.”

  “I know,” Flynn said, his attention back on his dinner. His lip buckled and he cleared his throat before he said, “Look, I want to go and lie down.”

  It didn’t matter how many times Vicky swallowed, she couldn’t clear the lump in her throat. A nod at Flynn and she said okay, despite a desire to hold on to him and never let go. “Take care of yourself, okay? Never forget how much I love you.”