by Tim Lebbon
Lynne was asleep. She looked dead. I thought perhaps she would be soon, and that the secret whispers and grim looks I’d been noticing over the past couple of weeks were something to do with an illness. The suspicions burned at me, a pressure that gave me a headache, but I didn’t know how to ask. And now there was so much more.
I rested the iPad on my thighs, left hand scanning the various sites I frequently used. Facebook, Twitter, BBC News, others, they were all filled with the vesps. Consumed by them, as the vesps themselves consumed. I had my scrapbook open, and the file name made me ache for the calmness of a day ago. “New Worlds?”
I thought not.
9
Here’s what we think we know about the creatures popularly known as vesps:
Origins: It’s believed that they originate from an isolated underground environment, exposed by a scientific expedition in Moldova. Footage of the expedition was broadcast live. The initial wave of vesps was seen emerging from the entrance to the apparently extensive cave system before communications were lost. Dr Vladimir Krasnov led the team, and it’s known that he spent a large portion of his life searching for contained ecosystems. The Moldovan cave was suspected to be not only the largest yet found, but, of those, the system cut off from the rest of the world for the longest. Some estimates suggest that the caves had been isolated for upwards of ten million years.
Biology: Few specimens have been gathered, but some are under analysis. Initial results are not yet officially published, but it seems that the creatures are cold-blooded, flying reptiles. Adults are around twenty-five centimetres long and weigh less than half a kilogramme. Their skin is segmented, pale, soft, and protected with a moist secretion. The wings resemble those of a bat, similarly tipped with a spiked digit. They are eyeless and hunt by sound. Sound receptors cover the forward half of their bodies, both traditional ears and more sensitive vibration detectors on the skin’s surface. Their mouths are wide and contain over a hundred sharp teeth.
Reproduction and life cycle: The vesps are able to reproduce at any time, laying eggs in their partially eaten prey. The eggs hatch quickly; the young consume their host and grow with great rapidity. They are vicious, voracious eaters. They will feed upon any living creature, large or small. We have seen evidence of them eating flies and beetles, as well as attacking fully grown cows and dogs. The young can fly from birth, and within just a single day they are two-thirds the size of an adult and able to reproduce. Females appear to outnumber males ten-to-one. Each vesp can lay up to forty eggs at one time.
Projection and conjecture: Proliferation is staggering. Upon being exposed to the environment beyond the cave, it appears that something was triggered in these beasts, a dormant instinct or ability, enabling them to reproduce at a stunning rate. Although the caves have not been explored, it is unlikely that the population below ground would have multiplied so quickly, due to the lack of space and sustenance. If only a thousand escaped from the cave and started laying eggs immediately, within a day their offspring could number half a million, and a day later tens of millions. Beyond that the numbers become shocking. Some believe the oxygen-rich atmosphere boosted their metabolism, strength and speed. It’s also suggested that the sudden availability of vast amounts of food has disrupted the delicate balance of their previous existence.
Nothing like them is known to science, other than at a microscopic level.
Nothing else like them exists in nature.
They are an anomaly.
We don’t know how to stop them.
Statement from a government scientist (identity withheld by request), London, Friday, 18 November 2016
They’re fucking monsters! No one knows what they are or where they come from or why they reproduce so quickly, and you know why? Because they’re fucking MONSTERS! Don’t try to make sense of this. Don’t try to see a pattern, or blame God or the government, just—
BBC Radio Midlands News presenter (since removed), 7 p.m., Friday, 18 November 2016
I was missing my little brother. That was pretty rare—we had a real love/hate relationship, and time away from each other was usually appreciated—but I wished he was with us now. It had only been a couple of hours, but I felt his absence. At times like this a family should stay together.
I couldn’t even contact him. My iPad was 3G enabled, but his iPod wasn’t. He was likely still killing zombies while I was watching…
What was I watching? The end of the world? It had all happened so quickly, seemed so unbelievable and surreal; the full impact had yet to hit. But the news was inescapable. Everything I read through official channels was backed up by countless images and messages on social media.
I wished I could stop looking.
Lynne had stirred a couple of times, clutching at her stomach and drawing her legs up, barely rising from sleep. I guessed she was groaning too, because Mum glanced back at her. I caught her eye. Mum smiled, but it barely changed her face.
We moved along B roads, through the darkness, the lights of the cars passing in the opposite direction illuminating the car’s interior. I watched Dad, his profile grim and set, hands clasping the wheel firmly. He usually drove with one hand, laid back and casual. But now he had purpose. I watched Lynne, nodding beside me in the back seat. I checked the charge on the iPad and saw that it was down to less than twenty per cent. Glenn had lent us an in-car charger, and I’d ask Mum to plug it in soon.
Two hours after leaving the jammed main road we pulled to a halt.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. Dad said something but forgot to turn around, so my mum leaned around the front seat and signed.
“Toilet break.”
“Here?” We’d pulled into an unlit lay-by. It was almost 9 p.m., and now we were sitting stationary I saw just how much traffic was on the road heading north.
“Come on,” Mum said.
We left the car. I stretched my legs and opened the boot, slipping Otis’s lead on and guiding him to the side of the road. He sniffed around and did his business.
Glenn and Jude left their car and came to chat to us. Making plans, I thought. Talking about where’s safe and where isn’t. Jude stood beneath the overhanging heavy trees and peed into the darkness, giggling and looking back at me as he did so. It was good to be out of the cars. Cold, a drizzle in the air, but nice to be able to stretch our legs.
I sensed something wrong to my left. Lights leaping, shimmering back and forth across the wet trees and bushes before me instead of drifting by. I turned and felt Otis pressing against my leg.
A car bucked into the lay-by behind us, jerking forward, lights nodding up and down. It jarred once more and came to a stop fifty metres away with its front nudged against a tree.
Vesps! I thought, backing away. They’re here already, moved so quickly, and now we’re living everything I’ve seen! Otis barked and I tugged on his lead, hurting him, feeling bad. “Otis, quiet!” I said. I turned around and looked for my parents, but they’d already seen. The three adults stood in a group beside the Mazda. I held out my left hand then pressed my finger to my lips. Quiet, it’s the vesps! But they weren’t looking at me.
Then I saw their faces drop as one, and Otis started barking again.
What will I see when I turn around? I wondered, I dreaded, and in my silent world it was a familiar thought.
A man was walking quickly towards us. The road was quiet for now, and with his car lights on full beam he was splashed in silhouette. But I could see the long shape in his right hand, and as he closed on me he brought the shotgun up and pressed it against his shoulder.
Otis tugged at the lead. He sensed the threat and wanted to protect me. The man shouted something and shifted his aim to the dog, and I pulled him back, crouching down and hugging Otis to me. He continued barking and I felt each one through his chest.
The man paused a few steps away. Behind me, beside the Mazda, my parents and Glenn must have reacted, because the man shifted his aim only slightly to me. He was shouting a lot more
now, and as a car flitted by the light shifted across his face. He looked weird. I’d never seen anyone look like that before.
I shook my head. Maybe he was telling me to move, or to let go of the dog, or to lie down, but I didn’t know.
I looked back. My parents were both standing with hands held out placatingly, both speaking. Mum saw me watching and made sure she spoke very slowly.
“Shout all you want, my daughter’s deaf.” She pointed. “Ally, baby, just stay there, he doesn’t want you to move.”
I didn’t want to turn back to the man. I wanted to keep my parents in sight. Glenn was behind them, and I could see Jude huddled against the side of the Land Rover ten metres in front of the Mazda. He was crying.
Glenn was taking small, rapid backward steps towards his vehicle. He’s got those guns in there, I thought. But then his eyes suddenly went wide and he held his hands out, saying something I couldn’t see.
My parents seemed to freeze.
I turned around and was looking into the twin barrels of the shotgun. The man had moved much closer and was aiming right at me, though he looked at the adults.
Otis was growling now, a deep vibration that I felt through my bones as if he and I were one. I’d wrapped his lead around my hand and the tension was constant, hard. If I let him go… I thought, but there was that gun, and my fear was a physical pain.
“Shhh, Otis,” I said, pressing my head against his. “Shhh.”
The man looked directly at me then. And although the gun never wavered I saw something that took away some of the fear. I saw his terror, his shame. It didn’t make it any less likely that he’d shoot me—I thought perhaps it was more likely. But I did understand that he was driven to this. Like us he was trying to get away. Probably had family in the car. Ran out of petrol, so now what?
Now what?
The man looked up, raised his gun and backed away, aiming over my shoulder. He shouted again, words lost to the darkness.
I glanced back and saw Dad walking towards me.
“Dad, no!”
He didn’t look at me. He was focused on the man, lips pressed tight together. Furious. And I knew then that he would never, ever let anything bad happen to me again.
“Dad, please, no, he’ll shoot you and—”
A flash. I felt the blast in my ear and skull, a compression of air as the shockwave hit. Dad’s eyes went wide and he stopped walking, hands held out from his sides. I looked frantically from him, to Mum, to Glenn and Jude standing further away by the Land Rover. They all jumped and grew instantly still again. No one fell. No one clasped a wound or span around with blood spilling. He’d fired into the air, but in doing so emphasised his seriousness.
Dad was only a couple of metres away and he rushed to me, gathering me in his arms and standing.
I looked back at the man. The shotgun barrel was smoking, and he was more agitated than ever. He shouted again and this time I saw the words on his lips. “Keys! Now!”
“Don’t hurt my family,” I said. “We’re just like you.”
He looked directly at me. “Shut up, bitch!” That struck me harder than the shotgun blast, harder than the sight of my parents’ fear for me. Perhaps he wasn’t like us at all. Maybe he would murder, just for a car.
“Give them to him, Dad,” I said, never taking my eyes from the gunman. He seemed to have gathered himself now, looking more determined than ever. He was no longer shaking. He was determined, and he turned his aim once again to Otis and me.
“Dad,” I said again. Dad moved in front, pushing me behind. Otis started struggling against my hold, eager to get free and attack the man threatening his family, his pack. I squatted beside him, grasping the lead with both hands.
I looked back at the others. Mum had ushered Glenn back towards the Land Rover, and now Glenn was urging Jude inside the vehicle. I could see my little brother’s tears and I hated the man for that, fucking hated him!
If I let Otis go—
Dad stood before me, protecting me with his shadow, and I saw him throw something at the man. He caught the keys, examined them briefly, pocketed them. Then he called back over his shoulder without taking his eyes from me, my dog, and my dad.
Behind him the car doors opened. A woman and two young children scrambled out, the woman carrying a baby in a blanket hugged to her chest.
More cars passed them by. Won’t anyone help? I thought. Doesn’t anyone care? Maybe someone would see what was happening, edge their car to the left and run the man down. But I had no wish to see anyone killed. Not someone I loved, and not even this man who thought he was protecting his own loved ones.
As the man’s family passed him and approached the Mazda, he lowered the gun and seemed to slump a little. I relaxed, too.
Otis’s lead slipped from my grasp.
“No!” I tried to shout, but I was breathless with fear.
The dog streaked past Dad and leaped at the man. He brought the gun up again but was too late, the barrel too long; the dog was inside its reach and leaping for him, claws scrabbling, teeth gnashing, all fur and fury. The man tried to stagger back but tripped over his own feet.
As he fell, the shotgun fired.
Dad dropped to the ground and I screamed, crawling for him and draping myself across his body, trying to drag him back towards me. He looked up at me, then sat up and hugged me tight. He pulled back just a little to show me his finger and thumb in a circle—I’m okay. Then his face fell.
Otis was on top of the man, teeth clamped around his arm.
“Otis!” I called. “Leave! Leave, Otis. Otis!” The dog backed away, circling the man and trotting back to me with his tail raised.
Dad moved me gently aside and stood, and I stood with him, turning to see what terrible thing he had seen.
The woman was on the ground close to the Mazda’s rear end. Her two kids were huddled by her side, and my mum had already reached her. I hated the flush of relief that washed through me when I saw it was not one of my family on the ground. But at the same time I thought, Not our fault.
The man was struggling to stand, eyes locked on his wife and children. He went to pick up his gun.
“Dad!” I said. But Dad had gone to the Mazda too, moving the kids gently back so that Mum could kneel by the injured woman and take the baby from her grasp. “Dad!” I called again.
By the time he turned around again, the man had broken the shotgun and plucked two new shells from his pocket.
I saw Dad shouting something at him. I grabbed Otis by the lead and wrapped it around my hand again, tighter. This was going from terrible to nightmarish.
Lynne climbed from the back of the Mazda, looked down at the woman splayed on the tarmac, and went to her knees.
The woman’s leg looked out of shape, and I stared with sick fascination at the ruin of her ankle and foot. Blood flowed black in the headlights. Cars passed by. We need to call the police and an ambulance, I thought, but the man had other ideas.
He aimed the shotgun as he approached his family. His kids backed away from him but he shouted at them, and they scurried into the back of our Mazda. Lynne tried talking to the man but he edged around her, clasping his wife beneath the arm and pulling her upright. She screamed. The look on her face was terrible, and now I could smell blood. It was like the air after a thunderstorm.
He dumped her into the passenger seat and held out his hand for his infant. Mum handed the baby over, and the man placed it gently in his wife’s arms.
“But all our stuff ’s in the car,” I said, and Dad turned and shook his head.
Otis growled again.
The man moved around the car, closing doors, still aiming his gun in our general direction. A truck came along the road. Its horn blared and its lights revealed the man’s pale, sweaty face. He looked lost.
The truck did not stop.
“Get your wife to a hospital!” I said. The man didn’t even look at me.
As we watched our car pull away, my parents drew me and Ly
nne close to them. Otis nudged their hands with his nose, demanding to be part of the group hug. I felt like crying.
But I didn’t. Something inside pushed the tears down. A realisation, perhaps, that things were changing more rapidly than I could ever have appreciated.
The vesps had touched us now, though indirectly, and I knew there was plenty more to come.
* * *
“It was horrible,” I said, sobbing into Dad’s chest. “I didn’t know what was happening, I couldn’t see everything, not in the dark and not with everyone spread out. I didn’t know what he was saying or… or what you were… saying back at him…” I cried some more, shaking, needing the feel of his arms around me and his familiar, safe smell. I’d never known exactly what that smell was—his aftershave, sweat, or a combination of everything that was him—and I didn’t want to know. It was comfort and security, and right then that was all that mattered.
He stepped right in front of me.
“And I was scared he was going to shoot you, Dad.”
Right between me and the gun. And if he’d been there years ago when we crashed, he’d have thrown himself between me and whatever cracked my skull open.
“He looked ashamed and shocked, but really mad too. Do you think he’ll kill other people? Do you think he’s done it already?”
Because he’s my dad, and that’s what he has to do. Protect me from danger.
Dad’s chest vibrated gently as he spoke, but I had him too tight in my grasp to look up.
“It was just so scary. I was there, but not. In the dark. I didn’t know what was happening.”
He stroked my hair.
“It was horrible.”
He tapped my shoulder. I pulled back at last and looked up into his face. He was crying.
