by Sean Deville
Bull would kill for those he cared about, without question. He had killed three men in his time, two of those in the Army when his squad had been under fire. The third though, that had been when he was on leave. He had returned from his tour in Afghanistan to great delight by his parents. But there was something lurking under the surface there, a distress that wasn’t being addressed. It was on the third day that his mother told him about how his niece was being stalked, about how the police were refusing to do anything. They had promised to investigate, promised to have a word, but the stalking had continued, every day becoming more and more extreme.
“Because he’s rich and white, and at the end of the day, she’s just a poor black girl.” That had been his father’s assessment. Who knew if that was actually true.
Bull had phoned his niece and listened to her tale of anguish. She knew who the stalker was, had dated him briefly only for him to reveal himself as a complete maniac. His niece even sent Bull a picture of the guy. He looked like an utter scumbag, the sort of chinless wonder that thought because they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths that they were somehow above everybody else. He had met plenty of officers like that in his time.
This would not stand, not in Bull’s eyes, and he had said the words that she knew wouldn’t comfort her. “I’m sure it will be okay.” Only this time, he was right, because he had already decided he was going to do something about it. He hadn’t at that moment decided to kill the man.
His niece didn’t live far away, and early the next morning, he had gone ‘round to find what he had expected because it was exactly as she said it would be. There had been the shit stain, lurking right outside her apartment block. He’d been sneaking in to steal her mail from the post boxes on the ground floor, leaving her less than savoury gifts in return. The building had security access, but it was not difficult to circumvent that. That’s why the guy hung around in the early hours, waiting for the opportunity to slip through the entrance, staying away from the surveillance cameras that were not as abundant as a building of this size would have demanded. But this time, Bull was there, and the Army sergeant had already decided exactly what he was going to do.
The stalker had already hurt her, and Bull knew how this would play out if nobody did anything. The bully would get more and more extreme until eventually the police would be forced to arrest him. By that time, his niece’s life would be either in tatters or ended completely. Nobody fucked with Bulls family, absolutely nobody. Pulling the hood over his head, Bull slipped from his place of concealment and walked across the street, the dull rain a mild inconvenience. At this hour, the streets were deserted. Bull walked straight at the guy, who was standing by one of the back fire escapes to try and avoid getting wet.
The stalker didn’t know what hit him. Despite Bull’s huge bulk, the man didn’t see the threat until it was far too late. Bull was just another guy, and because the stalker was also hanging out near the building’s bicycle racks, it made sense for people to be coming and going. So when Bull walked up to him, it was only when he felt the fist slam into his stomach that the stalker realised the danger he was in.
“You like to hurt women, do you?” Bull had whispered in his ear. Doubled over, the stalked couldn’t defend against the elbow that ploughed into the back of his neck sending him to the floor, his attempts to stay dry from the rain now shattered. Briefly scanning the area to ensure they were unwitnessed, Bull lifted the man’s semi-conscious body up and dragged it around to an even more secluded part of the building. Best to get out of the public eye for what needed to be done. The stalker struggled weakly, but he was dazed and weak by Bull’s standards.
“You messed with the wrong family,” Bull whispered again. The fucker looked even more pitiful in person that in the picture Bull had been sent. That was when Bull decided to end him. He took the stalker quickly, putting the man in a rear naked choke, holding it tight, unleashing the anger he felt. The man started to thrash, his hands flailing. Occasionally, one would hit Bull, but they were like flies, no more than a nuisance, and quickly the man passed out, Bull laying him down on the floor. Still unobserved, Bull took the man’s watch, his phone, and his wallet, and with a gloved hand, punched him once in the face. Then from his jacket he took out the knife, opened it up. Bull knew how to kill people, it’s what he had been trained for, and being careful not to get any blood on himself, he stuck the knife between the ribs right into the man’s still-beating heart. The knife, the stalker’s possessions, and the gloves would end up in the river. There would be no forensics, no evidence that this was anything but a mugging gone bad. Withdrawing the blade and wiping it on the man’s coat, Bull casually walked away. The job was done; it was up to God to sort him out now.
Bull would kill for his family and his men, but he had no men now. There was no Army, and there was no country to fight for. All he had was this eighteen-year-old boy who had been forced to grow up too fast. Bull had already decided he was willing to die for Jack, because deep down he needed something to die for. Jack was all the family he had left, even if he wasn’t blood. That no longer mattered.
“We’re here,” Vine said from the front. Bull got up, the APC now stationary and carefully opened up the back. There was nobody in sight, and the three men strode out to be met by a light drizzle. Vine had parked the APC next to three fuel trucks, and they were hoping that one or more was full. It would be even better if the keys were in them. In single file, guns ready, Vine and Bull walked over to the first truck.
Vine pulled himself up into the cabin and saw that the keys were in it.
“C’mon,” he said excitedly under his breath. “Keys are in. Bull, check the gauge, see if it’s carrying any juice?” Bull walked to the side of the tanker and saw the dial. It showed a full tank. With everything that had happened, he almost couldn’t believe it. Vine opened the cabin door, noticed the less than clean cab filled with discarded drinks cans and other assorted rubbish. Once upon a time, such slobbery would have bothered him, but he was long past that sort of worry. The fact that someone left the discarded wrapping from their lunch on the passenger seat kind of paled into insignificance when the whole country was trying to bite off bits of your anatomy.
None of them paid any attention to the crow that landed on top of the tanker. It was well fed today, and another joined it. They sidled along the top of the tanker, looking at the humans below. Once upon a time, humans had been a threat, the cause of near extinction for countless bird species, but not these. Because they were no longer crows. Having fed on the infected flesh all morning, they were now more than mere birds. They were more than that, and despite the fact they had been eating all morning, boy were they hungry. In the sky above, half a dozen more began to circle. It was Bull who finally noticed them. Nobody heard him swear.
12.16PM GMT, 21st September 2015, Mount Weather, Virginia, USA
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No, actually I don’t, but it’s the truth.” Davina looked at the man who was sat opposite her. “And can I save you the job of trying all the usual interrogation techniques with me? By now you have my dossier, you know what I do. If I wanted to lie to you, there’s nothing you could even imagine that would break me.”
“Oh really,” said the man. The look of arrogant defiance actually made Davina laugh.
“I was raped by over two hundred men before I was the age of 12. My body is covered in scars from where I have been brutalised. There’s nothing you can do to me that I haven’t experienced before. I tell you this so as not to waste your time or mine.”
“What, you think we are wasting YOUR time. Don’t forget where you are, missy.” Missy? Did he just call her missy?
“What are you CIA, NSA? I’m guessing the constitution has been suspended, I’m guessing you’re here because you’ve got a bit of a sadistic streak, and they think you can work me over.” He sat back at that, crossing his arms.
“Just tell me why you wanted the president to fire that
Nuke.”
“I’ve already told you, it wasn’t me.” This was pointless, thought Davina.
“If you’re trying for an insanity plea, it isn’t going to work.”
“An insanity plea? The country is on fire, there are infected running around in every city. I don’t see there being an effective mental health system in the foreseeable future.” Davina leaned forward. “But you know what, I can prove what I say. All you need is to get your hands on an infected body and test the blood with your viral test. When you see it doesn’t work, come back and talk to me. Because what we are doing now, it isn’t worth shit.”
“You’re not helping your case, you know.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck? I know where this ends.” And she did. Davina had no hope of getting through this alive. Because the rules had changed. “So I’m going to tell you the truth before the other guy, the one with the guts to end me, walks through that door.” The interrogator looked mildly offended at that. And she would have told them everything too, just like she promised. And they wouldn’t have believed a word she said. Only she wasn’t given a chance, because the door opened and that person stepped through. Only it was a woman not a man. And with a face so impassive as to almost prove sociopathy, the woman raised a Colt 45 magnum, and without a word, blew Davina’s brains out. The body jerked backwards and was only prevented from falling to the ground by the cuffs locking her to the table top. The interrogator, taken completely by surprise, jumped out of his chair and stared at the woman who had walked in unannounced.
“Enough of this shit,” the woman said, holstering her gun. Winking at the interrogator, Mrs. Rodney turned and hobbled back out the room, her strapped foot allowing her some semblance of movement. The bullet to the brain stopped Davina from resurrecting. At least she had been spared that.
12.18PM, 21st September 2015, Newquay Airport, Newquay
Bull stepped up to the cabin which still had the door open.
“We’ve got problems,” he said to Vine under his breath. One of the crows moved towards the front of the truck, as if following Bull’s movements. Vine was about to answer, but then another bird landed on the hood of the engine, swooping down as if it owned the place. It walked up to the glass windscreen and looked in with intense eyes. It pecked the glass once and then cawed. The crow looked damaged somehow, dirty.
“Infected?” Vine said in a hushed tone.
“Most likely. Don’t start the engine until we are safe; the noise might set them off.” Bull carefully closed the door to the cabin and began walking to their armoured vehicle. Jack was standing by it.
“Jack, get in,” Bull ordered. He was less than ten paces away when he heard the bird call. He turned just in time to see the two on the back of the fuel truck take off, and then they came right at him, the six above in the sky coming down as well, coming down fast. “Get in, for fuck’s sake,” Bull roared, the first bird flying into him, hitting his helmet. Bull surged towards the back of the APC, seeing Jack flee inside. Then there was a crow right in his face, its wings flapping, its beak going for his eyes. He clutched it with a fist, crushing its wings with his gloved hands, and sent it hurtling off to the side. And then two more were there, and he felt the sharpness on his cheek, then a stab in his forehead. Reaching the back of the APC, he slammed the door closed with him still on the outside. He thought he heard Jack call his name. Three more birds came at him, and he slid the machete out of its belt holster. He had picked this up the day before and had hoped he’d never have to use it. Its edge was razor sharp because he had made it so.
The first bird lost its head as the blade sliced into it, the second stunned, falling to the floor where Bull crushed it with his boot. Despite what had been happening over the last few days, and despite his skill as a soldier, these creatures were the first things he’d killed since the whole shit storm had started, and he roared his frustration. As he fought another that swooped down at him, he saw the dark mass of them in the sky above, heard Vine start up the engine of the fuel truck. No, don’t.
Vine had seen Bull get attacked, knew the reason why he didn’t get in the APC. Turning the key, the engine roared, smoke billowing out of the exhaust. The crow on the hood took off into the air silently, whirled, and flew straight back down at the windscreen, where it hit head on. Leaving a bloody smear, it rolled down the glass, and tried to get back up. But it couldn’t, it was broken, and it eventually rolled off the hood altogether. The glass had held, and Vine made to put the truck in gear, but then the movement in the air caught his eye. Above him were hundreds of birds, a huge flock that swooped and undulated in the sky above. They had been feeding off the remnants of the battlefields, and now here they were, their flocking instincts honed now for attack rather than defence.
“Oh shit,” Vine said. Those were the last words he uttered.
Bull, killing the last of the airborne attackers, watched in awe as the mass of birds came down out of the sky. The truck had started to move, and they came at it in waves, dozens upon dozens hitting the front of the truck, the windscreen initially holding, but then the glass started to fracture, the rivers of weakness surging through the glass. On the fourth wave, the window imploded, and then the birds were into the cabin, and Bull could hear the screams of another dead soldier.
“Oh you fucking bastards,” he heard himself say. The birds were all over the fuel truck now, ravenously trying to get at the flesh that was still squirming in the cabin. Bull did the only thing he could do, already conscious of the itching sensation in his flesh. He walked to the front of the APC, looked into the periscope, hoped that Jack could see him. He pointed several times for Jack to leave, hoping he could remember how to drive the thing. That was one of the lessons Bull had asked Phil to teach him.
Then Bull turned, machete now discarded, and withdrew his gun from its holster. Walking towards the fuel truck, he fired into their mass. He needed to kill as many of these fuckers as he could, or else nobody was going anywhere. Nothing would be able to take off with a flock of ravenous infected birds intent on killing flying around. And he knew exactly what he needed to do.
12.21PM GMT, 21st September 2015, Belgium
So the nuclear strike had not worked. The Overmind could still feel the mind of Fabrice prodding at its tendrils. Fabrice was the conduit, the one who brought everyone together, and as such, the Overmind now reached out to him. It found the mind vulnerable and it entered mercilessly.
“You cannot win,” the Overmind said telepathically, thousands of voices merging into one, the sound a chorus in Fabrice’s head. Fabrice did his best to dampen down the violence of the noise, but it still got through, sending Fabrice to his knees, the pain too much for him to bear.
“We already have won,” Fabrice said, his hands clutching his head. “Your soldiers are weak.”
“I will destroy you, I will destroy you all,” the Overmind roared, raising the volume, even more voices brought to the fold. Fabrice felt the pressure in his head increase, felt his eyesight start to fail.
“I do God’s bidding. His will be done.” The pressure increased.
“God? There is no God that matches your archaic beliefs. I will crush you and your pathetic uprising. I will become your God, and you will bow down to me.” The Overmind, so certain in its strength, was surprised to find the mind he was trying to destroy laughing.
“You think this is my army?” Fabrice said. There was blood pouring out of his eyes and nose now. Just as he had been vulnerable to Owen, now he saw how flawed he truly was. He was God’s plaything, sent here to be taught the value of humility. “You really have no understanding. I am merely a tool, and if you strike me down, you will only speed up your own demise.”
The Overmind was not just trying to kill Fabrice, it was worming its way into the man’s mind, trying to learn everything it could. All it saw were snippets, brief flashes of realisation, but what it saw terrified it. The pressure in Fabrice’s mind stopped.
“This is not a war I want,�
�� the Overmind said.
“That may be,” Fabrice said, “but it is the war you have.”
“No, perhaps there is another way.”
Rachel was witness to all this. Whilst she was miles away from where Fabrice knelt on the ground, she heard it all. Even now, she didn’t understand why the mind she now thought with had come back from death. How the virus had used her genetic code to reshape her into a random mutation was meaningless to her. All she knew was that she had a purpose and she would fulfil that purpose. And she would carry on until every human on this planet was either consumed or brought into her family. She also understood that it was better to have one enemy rather than two, and she sent Fabrice a command that she hoped she would not come to regret. From far away, she felt Fabrice say the words she had sent to him.
“Perhaps there is. We are listening.”
12.23PM, 21st September 2015, Newquay Airport, Newquay
The explosion ripped through the air, the heat from the shockwave reaching Croft even at this distance. He turned to see the fireball rising into the sky, the APC riding towards them. The fuel trucks had been about four hundred metres away from the Osprey, obscured by the terminal building, but now further explosions erupted and the huge fireball forced itself further into the atmosphere.
“That can’t be good,” Snow said. A moment later, Sterling appeared at the side door of the aircraft.
“If that’s our fuel, we aren’t going anywhere in this. I’d be flying on vapours.” She looked at the where the explosion had occurred. The APC trundled to a stop next to them. Seconds later, Jack emerged from the back. He was crying.
Bull had sacrificed himself, knowing he was most likely infected, knowing there were no more chances left. With a grenade, he had blown the fuel truck up, taking most of the infected birds with him. A death without meaning in the great scheme of things. Jack told them all this, some of it he had seen, much of it he guessed. There were only five of them left now, and the small group of survivors stood in a circle, the realisation of their fate now fully dawning on them. In the distance, they heard the now all familiar call of the infected. The explosion would become a beacon to them. They were coming; there would be no stopping them now.
