Hater h-1

by David Moody

  'My partner's dad,' I explain, feeling some sadness but no remorse or guilt over what I've done. 'He just turned on me. Thought he was going to kill me so I…'

  'Had to get him first?' she interrupts, finishing my sentence for me. My eyes are getting used to the darkness in the house now. I can see Nancy nodding and I immediately know that she completely understands what I had to do and why I had to do it, even if I'm still not sure myself. 'Everything will start to make more sense soon,' she tells me. 'I was just the same when it happened to me. Hated myself for doing it but I didn't have any choice. I'd been with John for almost thirty years and we'd hardly spent a day apart in all that time. It was just like someone had flicked a switch. I knew I had to do it.'

  This is in danger of turning into a comedy of errors. Have they all killed? I ask the question without realising I'm speaking out loud.

  'Suppose it just depends where you are when it happens,' Patrick says. 'Craig hasn't killed anyone yet, which is a surprise when you look at the size of the bugger!'

  Nancy takes up Craig's story.

  'Tried though, didn't you, love,' she sighs. In the circle of torchlight I see him nod. 'Bunch of them had you cornered at work, didn't they?'

  'I was picking orders in the warehouse with four of them,' the giant of a man explains in a surprisingly soft voice. 'Didn't know what was happening. I started on one of them but there were too many. They shut me in one of the offices but I managed to get out of a window. All I could do was run.'

  This conversation is bizarre and uncomfortably surreal. It only becomes believable again when I remember the fact that I've killed twice today. How could that be? Christ, until this morning I hadn't even hit anyone in temper, let alone killed them. Patrick passes me a bottle of water which I drink from thirstily.

  'What about you?' I ask him.

  'I killed,' he answers. 'Don't know who the guy was, I just had to do it like the rest of you. He was just stood there staring at me as I was getting into the car…'

  '…and?''

  'And I mowed him down. Started the engine, chased him down the street and I mowed him down. Pretty much wrote the car off too. Just kept driving along with him under the wheels. I didn't know what else to do. Tried to go back home but when I got there I saw that my girl was just like the rest of them and…'

  '…and you know the rest of the story,' Craig grumbles. 'You just have to do it, don't you?'

  'It feels like second nature,' Patrick says quietly. 'It's instinctive. It's animal instinct.'

  The room falls silent.

  'So what happens now?' I ask.

  'Who knows,' Nancy answers. 'My guess is we'll just keep killing each other until either we're all gone or they are. Crazy, isn't it?'

  It's hard to get my head round the fact that this woman (who looks like any other average wife / mother / daughter / sister / aunt) is talking so matter-of-factly about killing. In the days since she's changed she seems to have relinquished every aspect of her former life and is now prepared to kill to stay alive herself. At moments like this it all seems beyond belief. Nancy looks more likely to bake you a cake than kill you. I shake my head in bewilderment as Craig gets up and drags a wooden board across the open doorway, blocking out the last shards of light coming in from outside.

  35

  'So how much of it have you worked out then?' Patrick asks. We're both upstairs in what was probably destined to be the master bedroom of the half-finished house, sitting with our backs to the recently plastered wall. The sky has cleared now and the moon is providing limited but welcome illumination through the grille over the window. I'm tired and I don't want to talk but I can't avoid answering his question.

  'Haven't got a bloody clue what's going on,' I answer honestly. 'This is as close as I've managed to get,' I say as I take the folded-up booklet from my bag and pass it to him. He scans the pages by the light of his torch and smiles wryly to himself.

  'Good stuff, this!' he laughs sarcastically.

  'Took it from a house I hid in,' I tell him. 'Doesn't say much.'

  'When did you last get anything from the government that did?'

  He shuts the booklet and throws it down onto the bare floorboards.

  'It's not like there's anyone you can ask about it, is there?' I say. 'I still don't know if anyone really knows what's happening.'

  'Someone knows,' he mutters, 'they must do. You can bet that from the second the first person changed, some government department somewhere has been analysing us and cutting up people like you and me and…'

  'Cutting up people?'

  'I'm exaggerating,' he continues, 'but you know what I'm saying, don't you? They'll have had a team of top scientists sitting in some lab somewhere working out what's happened to us. They'll be working on a cure.'

  'You reckon?'

  He shrugs his shoulders.

  'Maybe. Whatever happens they'll be trying to find a way of stopping us doing what we do.'

  I know he's right. We're a threat to them. Far more of a threat than any enemy they might have battled with previously.

  'I don't want to be cured,' I say, surprising even myself with my admission. 'I want to stay like this. I don't want to go back to being one of them.'

  Patrick nods and switches off his torch. In the darkness I find myself thinking about Ellis again. I know that it's only a matter of time before she changes if she hasn't already. I've tried to convince myself that she'll be all right but I know that as long as she's with the others she's in danger. The hardest thing to come to terms with today - harder even than everything I've lost - is the fact that Lizzie, the person who carried my little girl and who has provided her with more safety and security than anyone else, is now the one who poses the biggest threat to her. The pain I feel when I think about Ellis tonight is indescribable. Maybe I should try and get to her now. Poor little thing doesn't know what's going to happen. She hasn't got a clue…

  'Don't say a lot, do you?' Patrick pushes. He's beginning to get on my nerves but I sense that he has a need to talk. He's as nervous, scared and confused as I am so I don't retaliate.

  'Not much to say, is there?' I grunt back.

  'So who are you thinking about?'

  Very perceptive. I pause but then decide to answer him. Maybe it will help.

  'My little girl. She's like us.'

  'Why isn't she with you?'

  'Because of her mother. I was in the house with the whole family when it happened. I knew that Ellis was like me and I tried to get her but…'

  'But what?'

  'Lizzie got to her before me. Smacked me around the face with a bloody metal pipe. Next thing I knew she'd gone and taken all the kids with her.'

  Patrick shakes his head.

  'Too bad,' he mumbles. 'Hurts when you lose them, doesn't it?'

  I nod, but I don't know if he notices my response.

  'What about you?' I ask. 'You said something earlier about your partner…'

  He doesn't answer for a few long seconds.

  'Like I said, I managed to get back home after it happened. You know almost before you see them that they haven't changed, don't you? I did what I had to do.'

  I don't know what he means by that. Did he kill her? I quickly decide that it's probably not a good idea to ask. For a moment I think that's the end of the conversation but then Patrick speaks again.

  'Got it all wrong, didn't they?' he says.

  'What?'

  'The papers and the TV and all that,' he explains, 'made us out to be the villains of the piece, didn't they?'

  'To them we are.'

  'Made it out to be us that hated them…'

  'I never hated anyone,' I tell him, 'at least not like they said on the news.'

  In the moonlight I watch as Patrick nods knowingly. He's not stupid. He's spent the last three days thinking about what I've only had a few hours to try and understand.

  'Know what I think?'

  'What?' I reply, yawning.

  'They called u
s the Haters, because from their perspective all we're doing is attacking and killing. That's how it looked to me before I changed. You agree?'

  'Suppose.'

  'But the fact of the matter is that everybody hates. They're just as bad as we are. They want us dead as much as we want to get rid of them. You can feel the hate coming off them, can't you? Even if they're not capable of showing it like we are or dealing with it like we do, they want us dead. So all we're doing is protecting ourselves. You just know that you have to do it, don't you? You have to kill them before they get to you.'

  'We're as bad as each other then,' I suggest.

  'Maybe. Like I said everybody hates, we're just better at dealing with it than they are. We have to look after ourselves and if it means destroying them, then that's what we have to do.'

  'Problem is they feel exactly the same…'

  'I know. But they're not as physical or aggressive as we are and that's where we have the advantage. They don't move quickly enough. They'll pay the price eventually.'

  'So what is it that's changed?' I ask. 'And why now? Why has this happened to some of us and not others? Why has it happened at all?'

  'Now that's the big question, isn't it? That's the one I can't work out the answer to, and you can bet we won't find any clues in your bloody government brochure either.'

  'But what do you think's caused it?'

  'Don't know. I've come up with about a hundred possible explanations so far,' he chuckles, 'but they're all bullshit!'

  'Is it a disease? Have we caught something?'

  He shakes his head.

  'Maybe we have. The way I look at it there's two possible explanations. Either it is a virus or something like that, or maybe something has happened to everyone. People like you and me have been affected by it, the rest of them haven't changed at all.'

  'Something like what?'

  'I don't know… maybe someone put something in the water? Perhaps the planet's drifted through a cloud of bloody space gas or something! Maybe it's just evolution? Nature taking its course…'

  Patrick chuckles to himself again. The room then becomes silent and the quiet gives me chance to consider what he's just said. He could be right. If this was a virus or disease, surely more people would have been directly affected? Everything is so screwed up tonight that all of his disjointed and unsubstantiated theories sound plausible.

  'So how many people like us do you think there are?' I ask, knowing that he can't do anything other than guess at the answer.

  'No idea,' he replies. 'Last thing I remember hearing they were talking about a small minority of people, and that's what it says in your booklet here. But I think it's bigger than anyone's letting on. Chances are no-one knows how big it is.'

  'And how widespread? Surely this can't just be happening here?'

  'It spread up and down the country quickly enough, didn't it? So if one country's been affected…'

  '…then why not everywhere else?'

  'Exactly.'

  'So where does it end?'

  More silence.

  'Don't know. Don't even know if I want to think about it. We have to keep fighting to stay alive, and you can bet they're going to be doing exactly the same thing. So we can only keep running and keep killing,' he replies, 'because if we don't get them, they'll get us.'

  36

  Patrick has finally shut up. I lie on the cold floor and try to sleep and rest my brain and my body. I can't stop thinking about Ellis. In the morning, I decide, I'll carry on towards Liz's sister's house and look for her there. I just pray that nothing happens before I reach her.

  In the morning I might risk taking a car for speed. I feel strong and calm and I'm prepared to walk the rest of the way but I'll be quicker driving, albeit much more exposed and vulnerable. It doesn't seem to matter now. What I'm doing feels so right. The life I've left behind seems more alien and unnatural with each passing minute. I wouldn't go back to it now, even if I had the choice. I just wish that Lizzie, Edward and Josh could be like Ellis and me.

  There's more noise outside. It's early in the morning - two or three o'clock I think - and there's a constant stream of sound coming from the middle of town. I can hear more trucks and helicopters. More patrols flushing people out. Whatever happens tomorrow I know I'll have to leave here. I don't want to stay in one place for too long. I'll keep moving until I find Ellis and then, when I've got her back, we'll run together. We'll find somewhere safe where there are more people like us, well away from those that hate us. And if we can't find anywhere safe then we'll kill and destroy as many of them as we have to. It's like the man said, we have to kill them before they kill us.

  I'll sleep now and make my move at first light.

  SATURDAY

  37

  'Get out!' a terrified voice screams over a god-awful noise. 'For Christ's sake, get out of here!'

  I sit up quickly. My body aches from sleeping on the bare floorboards. The half-built house is filled with a deafening thumping sound. I run to the window and push my face against the grey metal grille, desperate to see outside. There's a helicopter hovering nearby. It's not directly over the building site but it's close enough and I know that it's people like us they're looking for. I look around and see that I'm alone. Patrick's gone but his stuff is still here.

  Shit. There's a truck at the end of the gravel track and soldiers are already piling out of the back of it and running towards these houses. I have to move. I grab my bag and head for the door. I can hear a loudhailer outside, someone shouting a warning about standing still and not moving and… gun fire. I run back to the window and look down again and now I can see Craig face down in a puddle of mud, a rifle-wielding soldier standing over his fallen bulk with his still smoking gun aimed at the back of his head. I can see Patrick and Nancy too, both trying to get away. More troops swarm around them quickly, cutting off their escape route as another truck arrives.

  I have to get away from here. Maybe I could get up into the loft space and hide or should I just try and make a run for it? Is it too high to jump down from one of the windows up here? I can't allow myself to get caught. I have to get out of here and get Ellis. Now I can hear footsteps downstairs. Loud, heavy, clunking footsteps. Christ, they probably already know I'm up here. I run towards one of the smaller back rooms and meet a masked soldier coming the other way. I try to push past him but the fucker punches me in the face and before I can react I'm flat on my back looking up at the ceiling. I try to stand up but rough hands grab my arms and I'm dragged downstairs. There's no point fighting I think as I try not to panic. My only option now is to wait until I'm outside and then try to run. But then I think of that poor bastard Craig, face down, riddled with bullets. Co-operate with them I decide, despite the fact that every single nerve, sinew and fibre of my body wants to fight these animals and destroy them.

  I'm dragged through the hallway and kitchen and then out of the building. They shove me towards the truck where Nancy and Patrick stand trembling. I trip and fall to my knees in the mud close to Patrick's feet.

  'Get up!' one of the soldiers screams in my ear and a hand grabs me by the scruff of my neck and pulls me up. Patrick looks at me. I see desperation, terror and frustration in his frightened eyes.

  What now, I think to myself? Come on, if you're going to kill me just do it. Let's get it over with. There are guns pointed at us, but surely they'd have shot us by now if they were going to? I look up at the nearest soldier. A dark visor obscures his eyes but I can sense the hate coming off him like the stench of decay. Two more uniformed figures emerge from the front of the first truck and walk towards us. One of them is carrying one of the flat computers I've seen them using before. The other has a smaller electronic device held in one hand. I can't see what it is. They move quickly. One of them shoves me back against the side of the truck while the other holds the small device up to my throat. There's a split-second hiss of air then I feel a sudden, stinging pain in the side of my neck like an insect bite. They let
me go and turn their attention to Patrick then Nancy, doing exactly the same to both of them. Bizarrely they then use the machine on Craig's dead body.

  We stand in a line at the side of the truck, silent and not daring to move. The soldiers connect the handheld device to their computer and study the screen.

  'Well?' asks one of the other troops from a short distance away.

  'All of them,' the computer operator replies.

  'Any IDs?'

  'Just one, Patrick Crilley,' he says, pointing at him. Patrick looks anxiously from side to side. 'Can't match the others.'

  The first soldier turns away and makes a dismissive hand signal to the other troops who still surround us with their guns raised. I bite my lip and force myself not to react as one of them grabs my shoulder and pushes me towards the back of the truck.

  'In,' he grunts. I stand my ground and stare into his visor. Two more of them come at me from the side and, grabbing a leg each, they lift me up and shove me through a grubby tarpaulin cover and into the truck. I land flat on my face in the darkness and, before I can move, Patrick and Nancy land heavily on top of me. My face is pressed hard against the dirty floor and I'm shoved further down as the other two struggle to disentangle themselves from each other.

  'You're all right,' a voice that I don't recognise whispers from close to where I've fallen. 'You're with friends here.'

  Whoever's on top of me manages to drag themselves up onto their feet and I'm finally able to get up myself. I try and stand but the engine of the truck is started and the sudden lurching movement as it pulls away causes me to fall again. Someone helps me up and, for the first time, I'm able to look around. I count the dark shapes of seventeen other people in here including Patrick and Nancy. The light is poor but I know immediately that they're all like me. Seventeen men, women and children just like me.

  38

  We've been driving for what feels like hours but I know it hasn't been anywhere near that long. We paused another five (might have been six) times to pick up more people but it's been a while since we last stopped. There are now twenty-eight of us in here I think. It's a relief to be with so many people like me but space is limited and it's hot and bloody uncomfortable in here. I assume the truck is full now, so where the hell are they taking us? My home and family and everything else that's gone seems a million miles away. I know that the distance between me and Ellis is increasing with every minute I spend trapped in this bloody truck.