by Aline Riva
Greg paused for thought.
“Should you be drinking on those pills Christian gave you?”
“Probably not... actually, no... but what's one beer going to do?”
“That's your second,” Greg reminded him.
“And you're a bite doctor, not an actual doctor of medicine, Greg! I'll be okay. What's the worst that could happen?”
Greg gave a sigh.
“I guess I can't suggest you consider your future and take more care.”
“That would be pointless...” Marc paused, silently reflecting on a conversation he had shared with John whilst out on patrol, “I think I need to tell you something... actually, John Mundy advised that I should. Don't get worked up, not until you hear the facts. If you tell Cleo, make sure she keeps it between us, I mean, you, me, Vicki... it has to remain a secret.”
He drained the last drop of his beer and then reached for another one from an ice bucket. Greg watched as he popped the cap and then took another swig of beer.
“What's this about?” he asked.
Marc breathed out deeply as he shook his head.
“Bad, crazy shit but on the surface, there's no threat at all – not any more.”
Greg was starting to worry.
“Talk to me and the cut the bullshit, Marc. Why do I get a bad feeling about this?”
“A supply run team came across an abandoned research base. They came back with an experimental formula that in theory could reverse the effects of the bite virus in a recently turned victim.”
He stopped right there, fixing his gaze on Greg as he looked back at him utterly bewildered.
“Where is this formula?”
“It was used by Christian on an experimental subject. The guy recovered, the effects reversed completely. It also wiped his mind, he's not the man he used to be. It's like that serum just took his memories clean away. Turned him into a new man.”
“This happened inside town?” Greg exclaimed, “Are you saying Christian held a zombie here in Circus? He wouldn't take such a risk...”
“He did, John Mundy gave him the green light for the project. They think this might even lead to the test subject becoming a source of vaccine – a cure for the bite virus. This is why he has to be protected.”
Greg was staring at him.
“Christian was doing all of this without my knowledge?”
Marc gave a sigh. There was no easy way to say this.
“Steady on... don't go crazy about this, the situation is contained, there is no threat to anyone! Don't go killing him because of the past – you could wreck the possible chance of developing a vaccine. The subject of the experiment is Harvey Flint. He's not dead. He's not even a zombie any more.”
Rage burned in Greg's eyes as he got up sharply, sending the chair tumbling as it landed with a clatter against the patio floor.
“Christian brought him back? Of all the people he could have used, he picked Flint? I'll fucking murder him!”
Marc got up too and those beers suddenly seemed like six instead of three as he felt a wave of dizziness.
“Flint has no memory of the past! He's like a different man, Greg!”
His best friend glared at him.
“And you think that's acceptable? He would have killed me and Cleo if he'd got the chance! I don't care how changed he is – he's still Harvey Flint!”
“And maybe he's now the only hope we have of finding a cure for the bite virus. He was transformed, he was a zombie and that serum reversed the effects! He's human again, John has seen him too and he totally believes Flint no longer poses a threat to this community. Please Greg, if Christian, John and Parsons say they have the situation under control, then it is under control!”
“And I bet Christian kept this quiet because he knew I'd be furious! I want to smack him in the face for this!”
“You need to calm the fuck down!” Marc warned him, “Think about the vaccine. That could save a lot of lives, not just here, but worldwide eventually. Please think about the future. I won't live to see that happen, but you will!”
Those words struck a chord deep inside as he looked at his best friend.
“I'll never believe he's not a threat,” Greg replied as his rage simmered down, “And yes, I still want to smack Christian in the face for it. But I'll leave Flint alone – as long as he leaves my family alone – for the sake of the vaccine and because you asked me to accept this. I've nothing else to say on the matter!”
The mood of evening had been ruined. Greg turned away to go back inside Then he didn't, he turned back sharply because Marc had dropped his beer and the bottle had smashed. Marc was on the floor with glass fragments all around him, on his back and having a seizure. Greg knelt down beside him, brushing the fragments clear as Marc trembled, then as the trembling ceased, he turned him on to his side.
“Marc?” he said, trying to rouse him as he wondered if he was any use in this situation at all, “Marc, can you hear me?”
Marc's eye lids flickered, then he slowly woke up. Greg breathed a relieved sigh.
“What happened?” Marc sounded confused.
“Beer doesn't mix with pills,” Greg replied, cautiously checking a minor cut to the side of his head, “I may be just a bite doctor but I do know that much!”
Cleo and Vicki had heard the glass smash and had come running. They both stood on the patio looking on in alarm.
“Oh god, is he okay?” Vicki said anxiously.
“What happened, did he have another seizure?” asked Cleo.
“Yes, he did and yes he'll be okay. Give him a moment to recover and we can take him inside.”
“Shouldn't we give him more meds?” Vicki asked.
“No,” Greg replied, “He's taken meds - and mixed them with too much booze. You'll need to keep an eye on him tonight. I can't give him anything for this, I can't write a prescription for common sense, he simply shouldn't have done it.”
Marc gave a groan as he sat up.
“Did I have a seizure?” he still sounded a little confused.
“Yes you did, but it was brief. Come on, I'll help you up.”
Marc was grateful of his support as Greg helped him up from the ground and led him into the house. Then Marc started apologising for going heavy on the booze, and Greg said little in reply. His thoughts were now with all Marc had told him, it was a nightmare situation:
Flint wasn't dead. He wasn't even a zombie any more. That potentially dangerous bastard was alive and well and possibly the key to the bite virus vaccine. He would be a free man, too – free to pose a threat to Cleo and the kids if John and Christian were wrong about how much the serum had changed him. If they were wrong, his family could be in grave danger...
Chapter 6 : The Eve of the Storm
The night sky was pitted with stars. The sea was flat and calm and onboard the Apocalypse Queen, all was eerily silent as Serena made her way along the deck carrying a bundle of clothing. She stopped for a moment, hearing the ghostly, muffled moans and groans that carried on the quiet air – the sounds of the undead horde locked in the cargo area. She thought of her husband, then the others who were living in Circus Town, as yet unaware of the looming threat. Hazlewood was sleeping deeply thanks to a combination of booze and a sedative that she had slipped into his drink. It wasn't enough to kill him but she had her own plans for that evil bastard when the time came...
The small boat had been lowered over the side of the ship. A woman stood in shadow waiting and Serena gave her a nod, then headed for the holding cells. The guard was out cold, thanks to a little help – Marcia, the woman who had lowered the boat, had knocked out the guard for her. But Marcia had only agreed to this because she truly believed that Serena would be joining her and Alex on the boat, heading off to a fictional destination where life would be easy living, with no tyrant like Hazlewood to lord over them all. She had basically described Wolfsheer, long gone due to the invading horde, but her story had been convincing. Marcia was an escaped convict, tal
l and muscular but attractive to the men, she was also a murderer who had slain many on her travels and found it amusing. She would not be finding the sudden twist in these plans so amusing soon...
Serena unlocked the cell door and Alex woke up on the hard bench with a jolt, blinking in the gloom.
“Serena?”
She tossed him his clothing and boots.
“Get dressed. I have a boat waiting and we must hurry.”
He didn't need to be told twice. He hurt in places he didn't want to think about, but this was his one shot at freedom...
Once he was dressed, Serena led him out of the cell and past the unconscious guard, then out on to the deck.
“If only I could fly away from here!” he declared with a mad gleam in his eyes.
“Shh! Forget birds and planes and flying people, Casper! Follow me!”
He fell silent, making his way along the deck, following her until they reached the spot where a woman stood waiting. She was wearing black leather and her face bore an ugly scar.
“This had better be as good as you promised,” Marcia warned her.
“It is,” Serena replied, then there was a flash of steel and her cries were silenced by the upward thrust of a blade that cut through her windpipe and stuck firmly in her head, the blade buried to the hilt as blood ran from the wound and her lips moved as no sound came forth. Serena gave her a shove and she tumbled overboard, hitting the water with a splash. Alex looked at Serena in horror.
“You killed her!”
“She's one of Hazlewood's monsters. It's no great loss. Now, climb over the side and down the ladder. Untie the tether and start rowing. There is a small island two miles south of here follow the path of the moonlight on the water – you'll find an intact fishing boat, a raiding party found it when they went ashore. That's why we're anchored here for the night, he wants to send the party back a second time to pick the place clean, it used to be a survivor colony. Don't go ashore, there are undead in vast numbers. Just take the boat and head back to Circus. Warn them, tell them Hazlewood plans to flood the town with a horde from the sea!”
She thrust the handle of the knife into his hand, by moonlight he caught sight of the fresh blood that dripped from the tip of the blade.
Alex nodded.
“I will do my best to get there,” he replied, “Thank you, Serena.”
“And tell my husband I am safe and will see him soon. Tell him to trust me on that. I'm following on soon. He must not risk his life for me – he needs to be ready for a huge invasion of the undead. Hazlewood is waiting for a rough tide. Now go, quickly!”
Alex scrambled over the side of the ship and then began to make his way down the ladder, Serena watched as he reached the boat safely and then untied it. He began to row away, heading south. As the boat hit the silvery pathway lit by the moon he stood up, raising the oars as he imagined wings instead of arms, then he sat back down and rowed onward. Serena turned back, hurrying along the deck as below she heard more moans of the undead. Then the sound was silenced as she closed the door and went quickly down a passageway, heading back to her room. Hazlewood was still sleeping, he would never know how Alex Casper had escaped in the dead of night...
His arms ached but euphoria was taking over. Alex wanted to be soaring in the skies above as he rowed harder. He felt like the boat was flying. The island was now in sight, growing closer with every passing moment. He saw the boat sat at the dock, he smiled as his eyes shone with excitement.
“I'm free as a bird!” he yelled as his voice echoed about the lonely water.
A few more strokes of the oars brought him level with the boat. He stood up as the tide began to tug at the boat, then made a lunge for the side. He struggled up and over, hitting the deck with a thud. He had landed on his back, the knife at his side, still clutched in his hand. Alex scrambled to his feet, feeling that rising sense of craziness that made him believe nothing could harm him now. He was back in fearless mode and turning it up to full volume as he laughed, then ran for the cabin, found keys in the ignition and started up the engine. Then moans and snarls carried on the breeze. He turned his head as in the moonlight, undead figures cast in gloom lumbered from the heavy shaded treeline, making a dash for the dock. He pulled up the anchor, listening as the engine turned over.
“Hurry up, hurry up,” he muttered under his breath.
There was a thump as a creature hurled itself over the side, landing on the deck and rising to its feet with speed. Dead lips contorted into a snarl. It lunged, claw-like fingers grasping. As it grabbed him, he slammed a hand on its shoulder, pushing it back as he raised the knife. The creature bit down into his hand, making him yell. The boat was rocking now as more crowded in, fighting to climb over each other to board the vessel and rip apart the human whose scent had carried on the breeze. Alex raised the knife, ramming it into the head of the zombie. It slumped to the deck and as the anchor wound up and the boat floated free, he ran back to the cabin and took control once more, turning the boat from the island and the attacking crowd of undead, going full throttle away from the threat as the boat headed towards the distant shore line lit by the silvery glow, it was a place he recognised from his travels, even by moonlight.
As he began to hit open water and then take the boat along the path traced by the nearby shores, he looked down at his bleeding hand. It was deep. He doubted that was a wound that could be fixed, but now was not the time to think on such things.
“I'm free as a bird!” he whispered as he fought the pain, “And I will get home... I have to warn the others!”
As dawn broke on a new day, the air was cooler and damp with the promise of rain. Greg had suffered a sleepless night and eventually woken Cleo and told her the bad news. The fear he had seen reflected in her eyes on learning Flint was still alive sent a rush of anger through his mind like a flash fire as he thought of how Flint had once treated her. It didn't matter that he was apparently a changed man – he was still Harvey Flint and the mere thought of him still alive terrified Cleo.
That morning as he dressed for work, he put on his holster and slipped his gun into it, then covered the sight of it with his jacket. He didn't usually walk around Circus armed, not these days – but times had changed overnight...For now, he would trust the others. John was a good man who had kept the serum experiment a secret in the hope of finding a cure. Christian too had good intentions – but he still felt he ought to have told him, or at least explained his choice of test subject. Parsons was completely behind the project too and that man was a fine community pillar, he had proved that back on Wolfsheer and now he was working to pull Circus back together in peaceful times and doing a fine job of it. If he thought Flint posed no threat, he wanted to believe him. But he would still carry a gun at all times, simply because Harvey Flint was back...
Marc had not told Vicki about Flint. She seemed visibly worried in the aftermath of learning about his illness and the lone zombie washed in from the sea. He didn't want to add to her anxiety by telling her Flint was back from the dead. That morning he left at sunrise to join the beach patrol. He had taken his meds and felt fine. The cut to his head was minor. He didn't even have a headache, which struck him as ironic considering there was something inside his mind growing every day, trying to kill him.
He crossed the street, went up the hillside and felt revived by the fresh sea air, after inhaling it and taking a moment to watch the rising sun, he went through the open gate and out to the sea wall. He looked down at the beach below, the waters were flat and calm, the lap of the tide lazy and there was not a boat in sight. Sea mist was rising too, carried along with dampness in the air that matched the slowly gathering clouds far off in the distance that suggested heavy rainfall later in the day, or perhaps tonight.
He went down the stone steps, avoiding damp sand and seaweed that had clung from the last rise of the tide and went down to the sand, where he took up his familiar spot near the sharp bend, then he checked his watch. He was out here a little ear
lier than planned, night watch ended at sunrise and the guy who had done the last shift was now walking off down the inside of the sea wall, heading for a gate further up that led down to the flats that overlooked another part of the beach, ready to grab a few hours rest after the night shift. Emma was his watch partner today, she would be walking up from much further down the other end of the seafront. He estimated she would be joining him in around ten minutes and he smiled, her time keeping was always spot on.
Far off in the distance, a fishing boat was heading for the beach. It was too far out for Marc to spot just yet, but on board was Alex Casper, and he was weak from torture, from sailing all night and that deep and terrible bite on his hand was making him feverish. He planned to get as close to the shore as possible, then swim in. He was sure given his weakened state, those on beach patrol would quickly pull him from the water. He hoped the first face he saw when he got there was Emma...
From the fishing boat, the view of the coastline seemed to bob about in time with the roll of the boat as it moved through the water. It was a misty view too, he wasn't sure if that was early morning mist drifting in from the sea, or if the bite was so deep it was already affecting his vision. His arm hung limply at his side as he steered with one hand, heading in towards the beach, taking the boat as close as he could. Even at the shortest distance, it would be a long swim and he felt weak. He could see the beach, making out its outline and two figures standing on the shore, turned to each other in conversation.
“Hey!” he called, waving his uninjured hand, “Help me!”
