The Bug: Complete Season One

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “Bloody Hell, this is alright, isn’t it?” said Marshall, following Leanne into one of the hotel’s suites. It was just as grand as the rest of the place, but with less unnecessary clutter and a more modern feel. Even the wallpaper, with its thick embossed swirl pattern over vertical columns of white and green – while utterly fucking hideous – felt bang up-to-date.

  While there wasn’t a lot of clutter in the room, what there was plenty of, was space. This room was only the living area of the suite, but it was easily the size of Leanne’s whole flat and so, by default, easily the size of Marshall’s flat, too, as they’d lived above one another back in Glasgow.

  “Yeah, it’s nice,” Leanne agreed, heading for a curvy red sofa with wide cushions that stood in the middle of the room. She gently lowered the sleeping Immy onto the couch, then tucked a small throw cushion in at her side to stop her rolling off.

  “Still asleep, then?” said Marshall, simply because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Aye,” Leanne agreed. She glanced around at the three closed doors leading off from the room. “Keep an eye on her a minute, will you? I really need to pee.”

  “What? I mean, aye. No bother,” Marshall said. He looked down at the sleeping baby, then back at Leanne. “What will I do if she wakes up?”

  “She won’t.”

  “But what if she does?”

  “Jesus, Martin,” Leanne sighed. “She won’t. I’ll just be one minute.”

  Marshall nodded and smiled at Leanne as she opened a door and found the bathroom on the first try. He paced around in a tight circle, alternating between admiring the room, with its tall windows and lavishly thick curtains, and glancing down at Immy.

  “Please don’t wake up,” he whispered. “Please don’t wake up.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Hey, Marshall?” Daniel shouted.

  “Shh! Shut up!” Marshall whispered, doing a sort of speed-creep towards the door, trying not to make a sound. He opened the door, ready to snap at Daniel, but was confronted instead by a soldier wielding a half-folded travel crib. He recognized the soldier as the woman he’d accidentally scowled at, back outside the shop.

  “She brought this for the baby,” said Daniel, who was out of sight around the door frame.

  Marshall laughed too hard. “Well, I didn’t think she brought it for me!”

  “Where do you want it?” the soldier asked, flatly.

  “Just anywhere in here’s fine,” said Marshall.

  The woman didn’t move. Marshall flashed her an awkward smile.

  “Want to get out of the way, then?” she asked eventually.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” said Marshall, hopping away from the door like the floor had just caught fire.

  The soldier wrestled her load through the door, glanced around in disbelief at the size of the room, then placed the crib down on the carpet not too far from the sofa.

  “Here OK?” she asked.

  “Fine. Fine, that’s… that’s fine,” said Marshall. He waited until she’d started to walk away before blurting out a jumble of words. “You, I mean, I, uh, I saw you at… You were at the shops, weren’t you?”

  The woman nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Nothing, nothing,” said Marshall. “I just… I may have given you a funny look, but there was nothing… I didn’t mean anything by it, is what I’m trying to say. I sort of scowled at you.”

  The soldier looked him up and down. She had dark eyes, Marshall noticed. Hypnotically dark. “Right. Well, I didn’t notice, so don’t worry about it.”

  She made for the door. Marshall felt panic flare up inside him. More than anything, he didn’t want this woman to leave. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Donald.”

  Marshall frowned. “What? That’s a man’s name.”

  The soldier turned. There was something that vaguely resembled amusement on her face, and Marshall didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Yeah. My surname’s Donald,” she said.

  “Ah! Right, yeah, of course,” Marshall said. “Stupid. Me, I mean, not… not your name.”

  Marshall wasn’t a brave man – quite the opposite, most of the time – but he managed to bunch his courage together into a knot in his gut.

  “What’s your first name?” he asked, trying to sound relaxed, like he didn’t really care what the answer was. “Mine’s Martin. Martin Marshall.”

  “Ah, what the Hell,” said the soldier, after a long, tortuous pause. “It’s Caitlin.”

  “Caitlin,” repeated Marshall, stalling for time as his mind frantically raced to come up with further conversation threads. “Caitlin. That’s not the sort of name I’d expect a soldier to have.”

  “Really?” Caitlin said. “And what sort of name would you expect a soldier to have?”

  Marshall puffed out his cheeks. Fuck. He’d backed himself into a corner here, he could tell. Whatever he said next was almost certainly going to lead to Caitlin either punching him, walking out, or both. But she was staring at him now, and he had to say something.

  “Rambo?” he ventured.

  Caitlin blinked several times in succession. Then, to Marshall’s delight, she smiled. She actually smiled! “Well, yeah, I mean, obviously. It’s wall to wall Rambos, usually,” she said. “But there’s the odd Caitlin in there somewhere, too.”

  “Right! Right!” breathed Marshall. He began to say something else, but then the toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened. Marshall glanced over to see Leanne stepping out, and when he turned back to speak to Caitlin, she was gone.

  INVERLOCHY CASTLE HOTEL, FORT WILLIAM, SCOTLAND

  May 25th, 12:07 PM

  The hotel’s bar had been done out in the same overstated grandeur as the rest of the place. There were chandelier lights, wall-mounted brass lamps, a truly hideously patterned carpet and lots and lots of dark wood. The last time Hoon had seen so much wood in one place, in fact, he’d been aged ten and camping. There must’ve been a good half-acre of rainforest on the walls alone.

  Hoon and Sweeney sat across from each other in antique leather tub chairs which had no right to be as comfortable as they were. Both men gently swirled glasses of stupidly expensive Scotch in their hands, but neither of them actually drank yet.

  “We were sent across to Inverness,” Sweeney said. He was gazing past Hoon at a stuffed stag’s head mounted above the bar. It gazed forlornly back. “There’d been rioting. The shopping center in the town – Eastgate, you know it?”

  Hoon didn’t.

  “Well, that’s where it started kicking off. You lot, police, went in to sort it out, but… well, it wasn’t what you’d call your average riot.”

  “Don’t imagine you get a lot of riots in the Highlands,” said Hoon, inhaling the peaty bouquet that wafted from the glass. “Average or otherwise.”

  “Quite,” agreed Sweeney. “Anyway, it got out of hand, started spreading outside, and we were called in. They wanted us fully loaded. Boots on the ground, armed to the teeth.” He shook his head, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “In Inverness city center! We had no idea what was going on, but over we went, as ordered.”

  He stopped then, and finally took a sip of his drink. Hoon had hated him on sight, but then, he hated everyone on sight. At least this one was showing signs of promise, even if it was just through free drink.

  “Bad?” Hoon said.

  “Very,” said Sweeney. “They were everywhere. People – women, kids – were being pulled to the ground by these… these… animals, who were then...” He looked down, steadying himself. “Well, they were killing them, let’s just leave it at that.”

  He took another sip of his drink, and Hoon did the same. The liquid coated Hoon’s tongue in a comforting warmth, then burned as it washed down the back of his throat.

  “They weren’t human anymore,” Sweeney said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen people do some pretty messed-up things over the years, but this… They were savages, that’s what
they were. Tearing at people. Clawing at them. Biting them, would you believe?”

  Hoon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the warmth of the whisky stirring memories of the blood that had filled his mouth earlier. He could still feel the man’s veins tearing between his teeth.

  “Aye,” he said. “Aye, I can believe that.”

  “The orders were to shoot on sight. Anyone behaving… like that, we were to shoot to kill. That was the order,” Sweeney said. His chest heaved as he took a steadying breath. “But some of them were kids. Babies, for Christ’s sake. You’ve got three-year-olds coming at you outside a shopping center in Inverness – in fucking Inverness – and we’re supposed to shoot them. Kill them. It wasn’t going to happen. I mean, some of us are parents ourselves.”

  He drained the last drops from his glass.

  “Course, we should have done. I know that now. Be a lot more of us here if we had.”

  “Aye,” said Hoon. “Maybe.”

  “How about you?” said Sweeney, giving himself a shake. “What’s your story?”

  “My story? Christ, how long you got?” Hoon asked. “Short version is that the whole point of my job is to stop Glasgow tearing itself a new arsehole every night, and last night, I failed.”

  Sweeney nodded. “So, Glasgow’s infected, too?”

  “I’d say Glasgow’s probably gone, at this point,” Hoon corrected.

  Sweeney leaned forward in his chair and glanced around at the empty room. When he spoke, his voice was low and secretive. “Did you see anything else? Besides the people, I mean.”

  Hoon knew exactly what the lieutenant was talking about, but was damned if he was going to show his hand yet. “Like what?”

  “Like… insects.”

  “Insects?”

  “Yes. There were dozens of them. Black and shiny, size of mice. Saw them crawling all over the bodies in the streets. Bloody horrible things.”

  Hoon twitched. “Aye. We did get a few reports,” Hoon said. He wriggled in the chair, which suddenly felt far less comfortable. “Saw some of them myself, actually. Right up close.”

  “Really?” said Sweeney, in the relieved tone of someone who’d been fully expecting to be dismissed as a raving headcase. “Any idea what they are?”

  Hoon opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He had a sudden suspicion that the officer was playing him at his own game. “You tell me,” he said.

  Sweeney looked at Hoon for several long seconds, as he figured out how much information to trust him with. “From what we can gather, the insects are… I don’t know how to put this… getting inside people. We don’t know how, exactly, but we believe that’s what they’re doing. At first, we thought they were biting people, or injecting them with some sort of toxin, but, well, I saw it.”

  “It?” said Hoon.

  “I only caught a glimpse,” said Sweeney, holding both hands up as if dismissing his own story before Hoon could. “There was one of them on the neck of a woman who’d been screaming – God, she’d been screaming – but as soon as the insect was on her skin, she just stopped. Just like that. Just stopped and stood there, ignoring the carnage going on all around her.

  “I tried to grab for it and pull it off, but… I don’t know. It was like it seeped into her skin. Like she absorbed it. It didn’t cut her, it didn’t burrow inside, it just sort of… soaked in.”

  “And what happened to her then?” Hoon asked.

  “She became like the others,” Sweeney said. “Well, no, not at first. At first, she just seemed annoyed. Angry. She was talking. Shouting, really. Then she came at me, still just angry, not full-blown demented. Not yet.”

  “What did you do?” asked Hoon.

  “I warned her. I told her to stop, to back off,” Sweeney said. “And that was when she kicked the crazy into high gear. I had no choice, in the end.”

  Hoon nodded. “Aye. I can imagine.”

  Sweeney stood. “I’ll go get us another drink.”

  While the officer headed for the bar, Hoon turned and looked out through the windows at the grounds beyond. Through the windows on the right were a set of wide stone steps that ran almost the whole length of the castle. From where he was sitting, Hoon couldn’t see where they led, but he was quietly confident it’d be somewhere nauseatingly impressive.

  The windows ahead of him – across the room behind where Sweeney had been sitting – showed the approach road that led up from the castle gates. Four big military trucks were parked on what had surely been an immaculate lawn until just a few hours ago. The gate, and the soldiers guarding it, were hidden behind a tree-lined bend, but there were a few others in uniform milling around, rifles in hand.

  Of course, Hoon knew those rifles wouldn’t stop the bugs, if they came. Nothing would stop the bugs if they came.

  There was a clunk as Sweeney sat the bottle on the table between them. Hoon gave it an approving nod, then waited until the lieutenant was back in his seat before he spoke.

  “What about the rest of the world?” he asked. “What do you know?”

  “Same as here, from what we can gather. Although, we don’t know a whole lot,” Sweeney said. “We tried to retreat back to base, but when we got there…”

  “Same thing?” asked Hoon.

  “Worse, if anything,” Sweeney told him. “The insects must’ve got in. There might have been people left inside, but… There were too many. Too fast. I ordered a tactical withdr--”

  He stopped, mid-word, then shook his head. “We ran away. Came here. Told any of the other squads still out there to do the same.” He reached for the bottle and poured himself a double measure. “Told them it’s to regroup and mount a counter-offensive, but… How do you fight back against the whole world?”

  He raised the glass in salute. Hoon titled his own half-full glass towards him. “One of my guys, Evan – religious type, but not in-your-face with it, you know? He swears it’s the end of days.”

  “Think he’s right?” Hoon asked.

  Sweeney shrugged. “I don’t think he’s wrong,” he said, then he gulped down the drink and his gums drew back with the fire of it. “It’s the insects. The bugs. We don’t know anything about them,” he said. “Maybe if we did, that would give us… I don’t know. It would help. But we don’t. So that’s that.”

  Hoon leaned back in his chair. One hand still held his glass. With the other, he slowly drummed his fingers on the polished tabletop. A whispering crept through his head, tickling his scalp and quickening his pulse.

  “Maybe we do,” he said.

  Sweeney frowned. “Maybe we do what?”

  “Know a bit about them,” Hoon said. He wriggled in the seat again, the old leather suddenly making him itch. “Or have a way of finding out, anyway.”

  “Oh? How?”

  Hoon smiled. He leaned over, picked up the Scotch bottle, then filled Sweeney’s glass almost all the way to the top. “Trust me,” he said. “You’re going to need another drink.”

  FRANKLIN, MASSACHUSETTS

  May 25th, 2:13 AM

  Amy awkwardly patted Jaden on the back. “Uh, it’s OK,” she said. “Just let it out.”

  Jaden straightened up sharply, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose. He wiped his tears on his sleeve and tightened his jaw. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  “Dude, I’m sorry,” said Col. “I’m so sorry.”

  “About what?” asked Mike. “Where’s Amanda? Where’s your mom?”

  “She’s dead,” Jaden said. “She’s fucking dead, Mike.”

  “What? No. Shit!” Mike spat. He slammed his hands on the wheel. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “What the fuck are you so cut up for?” Jaden demanded. “You barely even knew her.”

  “There’s a set of points a couple of miles up the track,” Mike said. “Couldn’t figure out how to change them.”

  Amy felt Jaden’s whole body go tense. His face darkened. “So… what? You abandoned us here, then came running back so my mom could help you
?”

  “I didn’t abandon anyone,” said Mike, glancing in the rear view mirror. “I just saved all of you, or didn’t you notice?”

  “We wouldn’t have fucking needed saving if you hadn’t taken the train, you piece of shit,” Jaden spat. He pressed the gun against the back of Mike’s head. “Stop the car, Mike.”

  Col’s eyes went wide. “Jaden, what are you--?”

  “Stop the fucking car, bitch!” Jaden hissed.

  Mike held Jaden’s gaze in the mirror for a few moments, then tutted and pulled the car in at the side of the road on a long, empty residential street. “There. What now? You going to shoot me?” Mike asked.

  “Get out of the car,” Jaden told him.

  “Jaden, what are you doing?” Col asked. “Come on, man, put the gun down.”

  “Col, I love you, man, but shut the fuck up, OK?” Jaden said, not taking his eyes off the back of Mike’s head. “Michael. Open your door and get out. Now.”

  Mike muttered below his breath, but did as he was told. Jaden opened his own door, keeping the handgun trained on Mike.

  “Come on, kid, put the gun down,” Mike said. “You don’t need to do this.”

  “You left us to die,” Jaden hissed, and the tears filled his eyes again. “You fucking left us at the side of the road to die, and now my mom is gone, Mike. She’s dead. And that means you killed her. You.”

  Mike nodded slowly. “Guess that’s fair,” he said.

  Col’s door opened. “Don’t come out,” Jaden told him.

  “Come on, Jaden,” Col said, ignoring the order. “Get in the car.”

  “And what? Just let him get away with it?” Jaden said. “Pretend we’re all just one big happy group?”

  “What? God, no,” said Col. “Leave him here. Like he did with us. We’ve got his rifle in the car, just leave him.”

  Jaden’s eyes darted down to the other handgun that was tucked into Mike’s belt. It was the one Col had taken from the policeman who’d tried to kill him. They’d almost died getting that gun, and Jaden was damned if Mike was going to keep it.