The Alpha Plague 4: A Post-Apocalyptic Action Thriller

by Michael Robertson

  Flynn nodded, but it gave Vicky zero confidence. Maybe he simply didn’t have a fighting instinct in him, but she had to give him the chance to prove he could do it.

  Vicky slipped through the window and landed on the walkway with a thud. The shock of the landing snapped through her tired body. A few groans came from within the dark barn. With her baton raised, she waited, poised and ready to go. But nothing came at her.

  A second later, Flynn dropped down next to her. He landed louder than she had and with far less grace. With her heart in her throat, Vicky waited for her pulse to settle before leading him across the walkway.

  As they moved through the dark space, Vicky’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. The walkway seemed free of the diseased, but some lay down below from where they’d clearly fallen. As broken as the ones outside, they lay on the floor, no more active than large slugs. They posed no threat, so Vicky wouldn’t waste the energy killing them.

  ***

  When they stepped out of the barn’s front door, Vicky looked at the two diseased she’d hit with the catapult. None of the others moved. Maybe the getaway would be easier than—

  The thudding of clumsy footsteps sounded behind her. She spun around to see a large diseased man no more than two metres away. Too slow to lift her baton, she pulled away from her attacker and raised her hands in front of her face. With her eyes closed, she waited for the burn of his teeth to bite into her flesh.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A loud tock and Vicky watched the huge diseased fall to one side and hit the ground cheek first. Flynn followed up his first swing as he brought his bat down on the fat fuck’s head.

  A fresh waft of shit lifted up from the corpse as if it had defecated where it lay, and Vicky screwed her nose up as she backed away from it. Adrenaline surged through her as she looked at Flynn. The boy stood as if he expected praise. But he wouldn’t get it; he had a long fucking way to go and a lot to learn before she would praise him. Although, as she looked at his expectant face …

  “Thanks,” she said. Before he could reply, she added, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  ***

  Everything ached. With no sleep and a heavy backpack on, Vicky sweated in the strong sun and winced with every step.

  When she saw a bench, nearly hidden by the long grass that surrounded it, she moved over to it and sat down. Flynn came and sat down next to her. When he went to take his bag off his back, Vicky raised a halting hand at him. How many times would she have to tell him?

  Flynn frowned at her, but nodded and kept the pack on.

  “Remember what I said about taking your backpack off? You need to be able to move at a moment’s notice. If you’d have put it down like you’d wanted to in the barn, then you may not have it now.”

  Although the boy sighed, he didn’t reply. Vicky shook her head to herself.

  As they sat on the bench halfway down the huge hill, the morning sun beat down on them, and Vicky looked out over the large town. They’d be there in an hour or two, and they’d have to make a decision then. Despite what she’d said to Flynn, Vicky hadn’t convinced herself yet. Did they go through the town or around it?

  Birds rode the currents above Vicky’s and Flynn’s heads. To watch them meant looking into the sun, but Vicky did it anyway and her vision blurred with her tears.

  Maybe Rhys and Larissa looked over them at that moment. When Vicky looked across at Flynn, she saw he looked up too. His eyes also watered. With his face fixed up at the sky, he bit his quivering bottom lip.

  To look at Flynn made Vicky’s throat ache. She shifted over and put an arm around his broad shoulders. He smelled of sweat and dirt. No doubt Vicky had the same tang to her. “I would have stayed, you know.”

  The boy looked at her but said nothing as he cried.

  “After your dad died, that changed everything.”

  More tears ran down Flynn’s face, and his lip buckled out of shape.

  “I wouldn’t have left and expected you and your mum to cope on your own. Your mum didn’t need to go out scavenging.”

  After he’d nodded several times, Flynn gulped. “I know you would have stayed.” It took a couple more seconds for him to get his other words out. “Mum didn’t know that though.”

  Vicky sighed. Flynn had every right to be angry with her. She hadn’t communicated her intentions to Larissa, and if she had, things may be very different now. With her arm still around him, she swallowed the guilt that sat as a lump in her throat, pulled Flynn in closer to her, and kissed the top of his dirty head. “We’ll be okay. We’ll get through this.”

  He sighed, but he didn’t pull away. Nor did he reply.

  ***

  An amount of time passed, fuck knows how long, but long enough for Vicky to seize up like a rusty hinge. Deep aches sat in every muscle and joint, and tiredness pulled on her facial muscles.

  “The worst is yet to come,” she said.

  Flynn pulled out of her hug and looked at her. “Huh?”

  After she’d nodded at the large town, she said, “Going through there.” When her stomach rumbled, she instinctively grabbed it. “I’m still hungry too. The rabbit I ate will keep me going, but I need more food.”

  “Why don’t we go around the town? There’s no rush to get to Home. We can take our time, can’t we?” Flynn then added, “If we’re careful, I mean.”

  The warmth of the sun soaked into Vicky’s face as she watched the town below. “I don’t know about you, but I think the less time we spend out in the open, the better. If we go through the town, we cut our travel time by two-thirds, maybe more.”

  Before Flynn could respond, Vicky pulled the wind-up radio from her pocket. The click of the mechanism popped as Vicky spun the wheel on the back of the device. When she’d fully wound it, she checked the volume had been set to low, and lifted it up so both she and Flynn could listen to it.

  “Home is a place where we’re beginning to fight back. Hiding isn’t working. We need to build an army. We need to take the battle to the diseased. We have plenty of people already. We have running water and warm showers. We have electricity and food to go around. We have plenty of food. Able bodied or not; we will take you in. Home is located just near Britnall. The diseased can’t read, so we have signs to guide the way. Everyone is welcome. Please come and join us. You don’t have to go hungry or thirsty any longer.”

  By the time Vicky had pulled the radio away from her ear, her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. “It’s a slightly different broadcast,” she said. “And they have food—food and water. What if we take the long way ’round, and we don’t find either? I don’t know how long I can keep going on scraps.”

  Silence hung between the pair as they both looked out over the large town below. The long grass swayed in the wind around them, but the town remained still and resolute. An unknown quantity, it would only reveal its cards if they committed to entering it.

  “Fuck knows what’s in there,” Vicky said. “The only thing I’m certain of is that our route through the town will be much quicker.”

  Vicky glanced at Flynn and saw him staring at the town. “Come on, mate,” she said, “I need your feedback. What do we do?”

  For the first time since they’d sat down, Flynn straightened his back and drew a deep breath. An assertive nod as he wiped his eyes, and he said, “We go through. We can both run, right?”

  After she’d patted his broad back, Vicky smiled. “Yes, we can. We can run like the fucking wind if we need to.”

  When Flynn removed his bag from his back, Vicky grabbed his hand. “What are you doing?”

  Forceful, but gentle at the same time, Flynn removed Vicky’s hand. He placed his bag on his lap so he could undo the zip. He then pulled several items from it. A woman’s hat, his dad’s boots, a jewellery box with a decade’s worth of acquired jewellery, and Rhys’s aviator sunglasses.

  “W … what are you doing?” Vicky asked.

  “This stuff is weighing me down.”
As he re-shouldered his bag, Flynn beat his fist against his chest. “I have all I need of my parents in my heart. I don’t need to carry their belongings too. Or, at least, not all of their belongings. I’ve kept a few light bits.”

  Before Vicky could respond, the boy got to his feet. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

  Despite the aches in her limbs, Vicky stood up too. A glance around and the area seemed clear; exposed on the side of the hill, it made it hard for anything to approach them unnoticed.

  Flynn set off in the direction of the ghost town. Still and silent, it stared up the hill in defiance of their bravery. With one last look at Flynn’s personal items on the bench, Vicky set off after him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Exhausted from her lack of sleep, Vicky pushed her clumsy body on as the call of the diseased chased them. They’d not walked far down the hill before another pack of the hideous fuckers came at them. As she ran, her backpack slapped against the space between her shoulder blades. It may have only been light, but the repeated contact happened enough times to cause a stinging discomfort that would only get worse when she finally took it off. With at least ten minutes until they got to the town, they wouldn’t make it before the diseased caught up with them.

  There were about fifteen of them, and although some were faster than the others, they all ran with abandon. Where Vicky and Flynn had to worry about a fall down the steep hill, the diseased didn’t seem to give a fuck. It worked in their favour in fact—gravity added rocket fuel to their clumsy sprint.

  The uneven road had been kind to Vicky and Flynn so far. Although she couldn’t take it for granted; each time her foot turned one way or the other, her heart missed a beat. The next lump or loose piece of asphalt could be the one to throw her to the ground.

  A large derelict house sat in a field to their right. It looked like something ripped from a horror film. Vicky had tried to ignore it, but with just two other choices—none and fuck all—the decision had been made for them.They could lose them like they did at the barn.

  They could get on the roof and defend themselves.

  Slightly ahead of Flynn, Vicky suddenly changed course and shouted over her shoulder, “Follow me.”

  Flynn gasped as he called after her. “Where are you going?”

  Vicky couldn’t have a conversation now. She could barely breathe. The boy would work it out.

  “Vicky,” he called again.

  Vicky checked behind. When she saw he’d followed her, she didn’t respond.

  The sun still burned bright in the sky. The heat of it, combined with the run, turned Vicky’s body slick with sweat. Her collar itched, her trousers chaffed, her underwear rode up—none of that mattered with the mob behind them.

  Another glance at the town at the bottom of the hill and Vicky pushed on. It pained her to deviate from their plan, but they had to survive first. They’d only make it to Home if they made sensible choices.

  At less than five hundred metres from the house, Vicky looked behind again. Pain twisted through Flynn’s face, but he kept his pace up enough to maintain some distance between him and the crowd behind. A woman headed the pack of diseased. With her mouth stretched wide and her cheek ripped open, Vicky could see her entire rotting jaw. Eyes that shouldn’t have been able to see focused on her with what seemed to be laser-like precision. They wouldn’t stop until they’d either caught them, or they’d been killed themselves.

  An old detached house, the black building had been predominantly made from wood. It had clearly stood empty for the past decade at least, but quite possibly longer. Even from a few hundred metres away, Vicky could see the dirt and dust that clouded up the large windows. An old Bentley sat in the driveway. Covered in vines, the house had been claimed by nature and—like most things now—before long would be just another mound in the overgrown landscape.

  When Vicky got closer to it, she saw a perimeter fence. At no more than a metre high, the grass had hidden it from view until that moment. As she vaulted it, one hand on the wooden barrier, she called behind to Flynn, “Fence.”

  With the house still in her sights, she heard the grunt and then heavy landing of the boy behind her. Another quick check and she saw he’d made it without any problem.

  A crash then sounded out, followed by the deep oof of air leaving someone’s body. Vicky turned around to see the lead diseased fall from her collision with the gate. Unfortunately, the others learned from her mistake, and they hurdled the fence.

  With the grass much longer now, Vicky used her hands to push it aside so she could make a path to the house.

  Tall and imposing, the house seemed like the kind of building that watched you when you entered it. Now she’d gotten closer, Vicky could see it had been converted from a barn. Wood everywhere, it had huge windows to let the outside world look in.

  On any other day, Vicky would have checked the door, but they didn’t have time. Instead, she turned sideways and shoulder barged it.

  Fire ripped through her body when she connected with the barrier, and the heavy jolt threw stars across her vision. But the door gave with a splintering crack, and she fell into the house to hit the dusty wooden floor.

  Despite her pain, she got to her feet and held the door open for Flynn, who charged in a second later.

  After she’d slammed the door shut, she grabbed a nearby bookcase and toppled it over to block the way in.

  Flynn came over with an armchair. Gasping as he moved the heavy item, he managed to wedge it up behind the bookcase.

  In what felt like seconds, they’d moved a coffee table, two dining room chairs, and a sofa up against the door. Vicky paused with her hands on her hips. At that moment, one of the diseased crashed against the outside of the door with a loud bang.

  The only chance of survival would be on a higher floor, so Vicky pointed across the room and shouted to Flynn, “Upstairs, now.”

  He took off at a sprint. A deep creak then shuddered through the soles of Vicky’s shoes. Before she could call out to him, the floor gave way with a tearing crack like a ship wrecking against jagged rocks.

  The dust stung Vicky’s eyes, and although she had to blink to see through it, she made out the downed form of Flynn in what must have been the house’s basement. A second later, the crash of the large window at the front of the house exploded into the room with a tinkling of glass. The stench of the diseased rushed in with it, and Vicky stood frozen to the spot as she watched the pack come straight at her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The dust in the air obscured Vicky’s view and turned her throat dry. As she peered down at Flynn, she couldn’t see where she could land, but she had a plan. When the diseased at the front of the pack reached out for her, its face shredded and bloody from where it had run through the huge glass window, Vicky jumped.

  The shock of the landing ripped through Vicky and stung her knees. Despite the pain, she pushed on and rushed to Flynn.

  The slap of a diseased hit the hard floor behind her as it followed her down without hesitation.

  This basement had clearly never been used for anything other than storage. Although, with the thick reek of damp—so strong it masked the stench of the diseased—it probably couldn’t have been used even for that.

  “Get up,” Vicky shouted at Flynn and pointed toward the small corridor that must have led to the stairs up and out of the basement.

  Flynn didn’t need to be told twice. In one fluid movement, he jumped to his feet and sprinted in the direction she’d pointed to.

  The crack of body after body hit the ground in the basement behind them as the diseased that had chased them poured over the edge into the dingy space.

  Flynn disappeared from sight for a few seconds before Vicky followed him around the corner. She’d called it correctly from what she’d seen up above. They had a chance.

  Flynn reached the top of the stairs by the time Vicky arrived at the bottom. When he grabbed the door to get out of there, it didn’t move.
He turned and looked down at her. “It’s locked.”

  As she snapped her baton out to its full length, Vicky turned her back on Flynn and ascended the stairs backwards. “I thought it would be.”

  “Then why did you tell me to come this way?”

  Before she could answer, the first of the diseased appeared around the corner. Not only shredded from the window, it limped as if hurt from the drop into the basement. Yet it still moved toward Vicky and snapped its jaws.

  “What the fuck are we going to do?” Flynn called out.

  But Vicky didn’t respond. Sure, her heart beat so fast it damn near exploded, but she had a plan and it would work.

  When the first diseased had climbed up a few stairs—the others backed up behind it in a line because of the narrow corridor that led up the stairs—Vicky swung for it with her baton and scored a direct hit on the top of its head.

  The creature fell to her blow, and the next diseased climbed over it.

  With a clinched jaw, Vicky drove the baton as an uppercut into the monster’s chin. She knocked it back and it fell over the top of the first into the others behind.

  The next diseased appeared and Vicky yelled out as she dealt yet another fierce blow.

  ***

  The diseased moved forward as a rising tide. Slow, but unrelenting, they came toward Vicky. She hit every one of them with her baton. Sweat ran into her eyes and her arms had turned to lead, but she pushed through her discomfort and persevered.

  Another heavy whack sent another one of the diseased stumbling backwards.

  Silence followed. Vicky fought to catch her breath and watched the pile of fallen bodies at the bottom of the stairs.