by Rob Aspinall
And the infecteds had a name, too: Foamers.
It was a way better name than I’d come up with. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered anymore.
“Whatever Nadia’s strategy, she won,” I said. “How long do you reckon before we turn into foamers, too?”
“I don’t know,” Inge said. “Depends how fast it continues to spread.”
“Launch points were major cities, close to the busiest airports,” Giles said.
“London and Paris seem to have covered Europe,” said Zak.
“We’ll have longer,” Inge said. “But don’t expect more than a few days.”
“So are we any closer to breaking the rest of the encrypted data?” I asked.
“It’s broken,” Zak said, working a finger inside his ear. “We got diddly.”
“Only what they wanted us to find,” Giles said.
Zak put his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. “So, we got anything to eat around here?”
Everyone stared at him, disbelieving. Even Ling glanced up from her fruit slicing game.
Zak shrugged. “Well if I’m gonna die, I’m not gonna die hungry.”
26
Pool Party
For once, Zak had a point. And seeing as most of us were used to perilous situations, it wasn’t too hard to summon an appetite.
So I acted as the muscle to Giles and Roni as we drove into Portofino in a white BMW hire car. The shops were open—and packed with people stocking up for a siege. We filled a trolley from the local supermarket and grabbed a few takeaway pizzas on the way home.
There was a freedom to this end of the world stuff. Suddenly all the little petty things that preoccupy you just melt away. Like, I could cram as many iced donuts down my neck as I liked, without worrying about turning into a podger.
The same went for the awesome Italian pizza they had. The bread from the bakery. Chips, crisps, dips, chocolates. We sat around devouring the whole lot, watching movies rather than the news. Except for Ling, who sat cross-legged on the floor, writing in a little black book.
“What’s that?” I asked her.
“My journal,” she said.
“What do you write about? Boys? Gossip?”
“Missions,” Ling said, continuing to write.
“Why?” I asked.
“So I can remember what I did. Learn how to do better.”
“So she can kill more efficiently,” Inge said.
“Yes,” Ling said. “Plus it’s relaxing.”
“Huh, good idea,” I said, chugging on a vanilla milkshake.
As we watched the latest Bond film, I kept one eye on Giles and Roni. They seemed awfully chummy, talking about computers and coding and geek stuff. Almost like they were into each other.
“Look at her,” I whispered to Inge. “She’s all over him.”
Inge ignored me and watched the film on the sofa next to me.
“She’s laughing,” I said. “She doesn’t laugh.”
“Didn’t know you were interested,” Inge said.
“In what?”
“In Giles,” Inge said.
“I’m not.” I said.
Inge looked at me, like, yeah, right.
“It’s just . . . Her?”
“What’s wrong with her?” Inge said, chewing on a slice of olive and pepperoni.
“She’s a prickly thorn. Giles is a delicate rose.”
“Then they're perfect for each other,” Inge said, looking over at me. “It’s okay to admit you want him. ”
“I don’t want him,” I said. “I just don’t want anyone else to have him. Is that so unreasonable?”
Inge shook her head. “Sounds like you’re interested to me.”
“Okay, maybe a tiny bit, but—”
Suddenly, Alex walked in. And I wished I hadn't stuffed so much cake down my fat face.
“Lorna?” Inge said, nudging me.
“Huh?” I said, staring at Alex.
“You were saying?” Inge said.
“Saying what?” I said, wiping the milkshake from my mouth. Feeling like an obese minger with a belly full of junk.
Inge chuckled to herself.
“Oh, those two,” I said, snapping out of my daze. “Whatevs.” I stood up off the sofa, brushing crumbs off my lap.
I walked over to Alex. I threw my arms around him. “Thank God you're okay.”
“Hey Lorna, glad to see you’re not letting the apocalypse get in the way of a party.”
“Sorry,” I said, letting go. “We thought—”
“It’s the end of the world,” Alex said. He grabbed a slice of pizza out of a takeaway box and sat himself on the arm of a sofa. “Might as well enjoy it.”
And enjoy it we did. Well, we tried our best. More movies. More food. The contents of the mansion’s private bar. And that’s not to mention the sun, sea and the pool.
Each one of us took a big fat chill pill. Beyond the secluded confines of Portofino, the virus was still spreading. An estimated one billion and counting. But what could we do? And what could the world governments do?
The radio out by the pool said that a UN protocol had been triggered, putting the crisis in the hands of a new organisation called GEMA. It stood for Global Emergency Management Agency. Giles reckoned it was a JPAC front. Inge was sure of it.
The man on the radio said GEMA had international powers. It existed as a failsafe measure to enforce uniform containment protocols worldwide. This meant no single government could mess everything up for the rest of humanity.
In other words, presidents, prime ministers and dictators were officially off-duty. That left armies, police forces and all the emergency services under GEMA's control.
As I lay on a sun lounger listening to the radio, Ling breezed past in a black two-piece swimming cossie. Perfect body. Perfect skin. Even without makeup.
Life was so unfair.
Let her be the first to get bitten, I thought. At least then there’d be something wrong with her.
I know, I know. What a bitch.
Ling stopped and turned. Walked over to me, something catching her eye. She removed her shades. “Wow, those are cool,” she said, pointing to the Hello Kitty shorts I’d found at the supermarket.
“Thanks,” I said. “They were in the kids’ section, but I squeezed in.”
“You see the toys they had on Fifth Avenue?” she asked, perching herself on the end of the lounger.
“Saw them?” I said. “I took one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, when I tried to follow you down those giant drapes. I fell and landed on the display. Little kitties all over the floor.”
Ling laughed. A high, goofy laugh. “I wish I'd got one. They were limited edition.”
“You were too busy being chased by Philippe.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That was a fun day.”
“So you a big fan?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got the biggest collection,” she said. “At home I’ve got a watch, pyjamas, bedspread, wallpaper . . .”
Wow, we had something in common. We were bonding.
It'd been so long since I’d had a proper friend, I’d forgotten what it was like.
I thought of Becki and Holly.
Becki wasn’t speaking to me and I hadn’t had the heart to tell her the truth about Agent Danby. Maybe I could call Holly. Maybe broker a peace deal through her . . . But then it hit me. We'd all be dead soon. It was too late for sorries.
The thought was too depressing. I didn’t have the emotional muscles to think about it right then and there. So I tried to change the channel in my head, making more small talk. “So you got any real cats?” I asked Ling.
“Yeah,” she said, eyes lighting up. “A fat grey one called Fu and a skinny white one called Bao. They’re back in China. My neighbour’s looking after them.” Ling let out a big sigh, saddening in the eyes. “Poor things. I’m not gonna see them anymore.”
Well fancy that. It just went to show ev
eryone had a weak spot. Even Ling. But like any good assassin was trained to do, Ling compartmentalised her own emotions. She popped her shades back on and glided away to the edge of the pool.
Speaking of the pool . . . Alex rose out of the water, pushing his tanned, toned bod onto the terracotta floor tiles. “You not coming in?” he asked me, drying himself off with a towel.
“Still a bit hungover from last night,” I said.
“I’ve never seen a girl drink so many whiskies,” he said. “Come in the pool. It might be your last chance.”
“I’m good,” I said. “Not much of a swimmer.”
The truth is, I wasn’t hungover. And I really wanted to jump into that shimmering turquoise pool. But I had to keep my top on. Couldn’t let Alex see the scar. Couldn't have him knowing I was a freak.
I’d never told him about the op. And neither did I plan to. Besides, I was still clinging on to the faint glimmer of hope that by some miracle we’d last out the virus. I wasn’t about to ruin any slim chance I had with him.
“Come on,” Alex said. “You must be boiling.”
I was boiling. Like an egg. But I changed the subject. “Where’s Roni?” I asked.
“Inside with Giles, on their laptops,” Zak said, pulling his t-shirt over his head, exposing his skinny-fat milky flesh.
“Geeking out while they’ve still got the chance, huh? Why aren’t you in there with them?” I said.
“Are you kidding?” he said, eyeing Inge on a sun lounger across the pool and Ling diving gracefully into the water. “All the hotties are out here.” He looked at me. “You still owe me by the way,” he whispered. “For Mexico.”
“Shut up,” I hissed back.
“We had a deal,” he said.
I glanced at Alex. “There was no stupid deal. The only thing I owe you is a death-punch to the throat.”
Zak backed off. “Okay, keep your shirt on.”
“What does that mean?” I said.
Zak looked at me like a dumb animal. “Doesn't mean anything. Jesus.” He bombed into the pool, making a huge splash.
Alex looked beyond the pool and across the rear lawn. “Hey, it’s Salvatore,” he said.
“Who’s that?” I asked, sitting up on my lounger.
“He’s the gardener.” Alex said, walking away with his towel in hand. He waved and called Salvatore's name.
I sat upright, calling Alex back.
He ignored me and walked to the far end of the pool, where Inge lay on her front in a yellow bikini from the supermarket. Her head resting on her forearms and designer shades over her eyes.
Salvatore came up the lawn towards the pool area. He was a small man with a bushy black moustache and a deep Italian tan. He was also infected, lurching over the pristine lawns he’d so carefully landscaped.
I rose off the sun lounger. Ling was underwater and Zak was busy splashing around on a giant inflatable banana.
Inge reached down to her left and brought her pistol with silencer from under a folded towel. She sat up and pushed her feet into a pair of white flip flops.
“It’s alright, I said to her, approaching her lounger. ’I’ll go.”
“Don’t waste any bullets,” she said, handing me the pistol.
I followed Alex off the pool area through a knee-high, manicured hedge.
Alex paused. “Salvatore?”
Salvatore foamed at the mouth. He growled at Alex.
“Out of the way, Alex,” I said.
“But he's—”
“Not anymore,” I said, dragging Alex aside.
Salvatore let off a shriek and charged up the lawn, lumbering like an old man, stiff and awkward.
I aimed the pistol.
“Lorna—” Alex said, getting edgy.
I let Salvatore get close.
Then pop.
A bullet to the brain. A quick death, though he twitched for a few seconds on the lawn.
Inge was up off her lounger. Ling drying herself off at the poolside. We all knew what it meant. Well, most of us.
Zak splashed around on his big banana. “Hey, where you all going?” he said.
“Party’s over,” Inge said.
27
The Thing
As night fell and everyone broke off for an early one, I made my way through the dark corridors of the mansion. The place was pretty damn secure. High walls and solid gates to the front. A state-of-the-art security system with full CCTV. Reinforced doors and windows and folding wooden sun shutters that locked on the inside.
We also laid out a series of weapons on an island in the centre of the big, rustic kitchen. We had our remaining guns, a set of kitchen knives and a pair of samurai swords taken off a wall in the main hallway.
If trouble was coming, we were ready for it.
And trouble was always coming.
I walked sleepy along the second floor hallway, past the master bedroom. The door opened and out stepped Giles and Roni.
Giles looked sheepish.
They’d done it.
They’d definitely done it.
Giles hooked a thumb towards the room. “We were just—”
“Keeping abreast of things?” I said.
Roni sniggered and slapped Giles hard on the bum as they made their way downstairs.
I still didn’t see the two of them as a couple, but it wasn’t exactly the strangest thing that had happened lately.
I walked further along the hall and pushed the door open to the room I’d been sleeping in. It was super-plush like the rest of them, with cool floor tiles and a thick rug by a massively comfy double bed.
I didn’t even bother with the light. Just peeled off my top, slipped out of my shorts and got under the covers.
I bumped up against something warm.
A body.
I screamed and jumped out of my skin.
The body jumped and yelled, too, pinging on a beside lamp.
It was Alex, in nothing but a pair of black boxers. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I thought it was a foamer.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“I didn’t mean—” He looked across the floor, at my other clothes dumped in a corner. “Sorry, I didn’t realise this is where you were sleeping.”
“Shit, is this your room?” I asked.
“Unofficially, when I used to stay over,” he said.
I suddenly realised I was in my white bra and knickers. The scar! I slapped both hands over it. But too late. He’d seen it.
Oh. Fricking. No.
“I’ll find another room,” Alex said, pushing the duvet off him.
“No, don’t go,” I said. “I mean, you were here first. I should go.”
“You don’t have to,” Alex said. “It’s a pretty big bed.”
“Huge,” I said.
“Then we can share it.”
I stayed on my feet. “Okay, night then.”
Alex paused, confused. “You not gonna get in bed?”
“I’ll wait ’till you turn off the light.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Uh, no.”
“This way you don’t have to see my, you know—”
“Your scar?” he said. “I already saw it.”
“Still, it’s not nice to look at,” I turned to the side of the bed, searching the floor for my top. “Don't wanna give you nightmares. Maybe I should put something back on.”
Alex reached over and put a gentle hand on my arm. He pulled me back towards him. “Lorna, I think I can take it.”
It was bad enough him seeing me in my underwear. Now the scar? But he insisted.
So reluctantly, I took my hands away.
He stared at the scar a moment, taking in the full horror.
“You can puke now,” I said.
He laughed. “I kinda like it.”
“How can you kinda like it? No one kinda likes it.”
“Without that scar, you wouldn't be you. And we might never have
met.”
I found it hard to breathe. A tingling up the back of my neck.
What could he mean by that?
“Anyway,” he said. “You’re not the only one with a scar. Check this out.” Alex twisted away from me. “See that?” He pointed to a thin, bumpy line above his hip. “Skateboarding accident when I was eight.”
“Big deal,” I said. “That’s nothing.”
“Or this,” he said, leaning in close to me. He took my hand and pressed my fingertip against a tiny dent above his left eyebrow.
“What’s that from?”
“Dad threw a Russian doll at my head.”
I couldn’t help laughing. And I probably left my finger there too long.
And I probably shouldn’t have run a hand through his fringe.
Or leaned in closer for a kiss.
But I did.
And he didn’t stop me.
And the next thing you know, my lips were on his. A gentle kiss in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. His hand on the back of my neck. My body, the room, the universe turned electric.
Time and space stopped while we kissed.
We broke apart and the Earth started to spin again.
“You sure you wanna—It’s not ‘cause all the other girls are foaming at the mouth?”
“I’ve wanted to do that since we met,” Alex said.
“Oh,” I said, leaning back in. “Well seeing as this is the end of the world and all, and we might not get another chance, do you wanna, you know—”
“What?”
“You know . . . The thing.”
“The thing?”
“You gonna make me say it?”
He laughed. “I’m joking. Course I wanna do the thing.”
“Great,” I said. “Then without further ado . . .”
I leaned back in and we kissed.
And kissed some more.
We lay down on the bed, bodies intertwined, the first time anyone had touched me like that, ever. It was totally weird and yet totally natural.
