by Aline Riva
“As long as he's going to be okay, that's all that matters,” Marc said, then he looked skyward once more.
“Looks like it's going to be a big storm tonight – it's moving in slowly. I'd put money on it being overhead by the time it gets dark.”
“Or maybe the wind will blow it back out to sea,” Emma said with a smile.
Marc laughed.
“You're suddenly optimistic! I guess that would have something to do with your boyfriend coming back.”
Her smile faded.
“I don't even know if we're together any more,” she said sadly, “He came back for a reason... maybe to find me. Or maybe he was just running from danger. I guess I won't know until he's recovered.”
“I think he came back for you,” Marc told her.
“I want to think so too,” she replied.
The wind blew stronger. Clouds were gathering as far as the eye could see, now the entire sky was in shades of grey as in the distance, heavy storm clouds darkened to black as distant forks of lightening flickered and then vanished.
“It's going to be one hell of a storm,” Marc said.
“Zodiac, come inside!” Cleo called as she stood on the back doorstep and the rain began to fall.
Zodiac jumped down from the tree, landing like a cat. He shook droplets of rain from his hair and then ran for the back door. Just as she closed it, there was a knocking on the front door.
“What now?” she said, pausing to tell Zodiac to take off his muddy shoes before he went upstairs, then she went through the house to answer the door, wondering who it could be – Greg was working, so was Marc.
She opened the door to John Mundy. His hair was damp from the rain and he looked at her apologetically.
“Greg told you about Flint?” he asked cautiously.
She nodded.
“I'm sorry to tell you that Flint's gone missing. It may not be as it seems, he was confused and had memory loss, he could have simply wandered off... I would hate to be wrong about this but we have armed patrols out looking for him in case he's lost...or in case he's not as forgetful as he seems. Keep your doors and windows locked, just to be on the safe side. I've just sent word to Marc, he's re organising the patrols – it looks like we won't have much in the way of sea defence tonight, but we have to find Flint. Statistically, another creature washing ashore is highly unlikely. But I had to warn you, because we don't know what's going on in Flint's head.”
Cleo's face paled. As John stood in the shelter of the porch, beyond it the rain was coming down heavier as the skies pressed down grey and dark.
“Thank you for warning me,” she said, “Where's Greg now?”
“At the medical centre with Christian, I told them both this is a security matter, they need to carry on working and finish up at five thirty as usual – and then go home. The weather's going to get worse.”
As she nodded, she mentally made a note that there was a loaded gun on the top of the wardrobe in the bedroom. If she caught sight of Flint anywhere near the property, she would shoot without hesitation...
Just then Fred and Mona darted out in the rain, both looking over the low wall at Cleo.
“Could you stop your virus kid jumping from the trees like a cat?” Fred demanded.
“It really is too much, it's just not normal!” Mona added.
Then as he turned to face them, they both looked alarmed as they recognised the man on her doorstep as their community leader.
“Do you have to put up with this crap all the time?” John asked Cleo.
“Every other fucking day!” she confirmed.
John's eyes narrowed as he glared at her neighbours.
“A virus kid? You've lived next door long enough to know he's called Zodiac!” he fumed, then he indicated the car parked outside their house, “And from today you will not drive that car, not until you get the correct armour plating and spikes in case of zombie attack! It's not road worthy, it's old style!”
They exchanged a horrified glance.
“We still live old world style!” Mona exclaimed.
“Not any more!” John said sharply.
Mona glared at Cleo, then her neighbours turned away and hurried back inside, closing their front door with a slam.
“If you get any more harassment over Zodiac's difference I'll kick them out and make them live down the arse end of town,” John told her, “Don't be afraid to speak out about shit like that. And tell Greg to stay home tonight, we've got enough men combing the town for Flint...” the rain was pounding now, “I have to go, take care,” he told her then he hurried back to his car, got in and drove away.
Cleo closed the door. She walked over to the staircase and looked up, her thoughts on the loaded gun. Vicki was up in the bedroom she shared with Marc, sleeping the afternoon away thanks to her meds, which seemed to be settling her nerves a little. Zodiac was in his room changing out of wet clothing and Lula was in the nursery having a nap. Now was the time to act. She hurried up the stairs, determined to take that gun, holster it and hide it beneath one of Greg's borrowed shirts. The kids would not know and neither would Vicki, but at least she would be armed and able to defend herself and her family if Flint turned up...
Flint was already there. He was crouched low in the bushes at the back of the garden. He looked to the house as the rain fell. It would soon be dark. He was ready to give Greg Fitzroy a true insight into the monster he had become. He was thinking of Cleo and how she would scream as he bit into her flesh. For Greg to see that before his death would be the greatest revenge...he laughed darkly.
“I'm going to rip you all apart,” he vowed.
At the medical centre, the last patients had been seen and Christian had left in a hurry before Greg could vent more rage on him. Greg had stayed behind to keep a watchful eye on Alex, who woke to the sound of falling rain outside. He blinked and then looked up and breathed a relieved sigh to see a familiar face.
“What happened, Alex?” Greg asked, “You've got some nasty wounds... in nasty places.”
Alex had raised a shaking, bandaged hand as his eyes grew wide with terror. He recalled the torture on board the ship, then the bite from the zombie on the fishing boat...two of his fingers were missing.
“The ship... they are in the cargo hold... a horde, a ship of undead!”
His uninjured hand reached up, grasping at Greg's sleeve, “They're coming! So many of them! My hand...” he stared at the wound, “It bit me! I was cold... locked away... a caged bird!”
Greg gave a sigh.
“You're ranting again, Alex. I guess the meds haven't kicked in yet.”
“It's true!” he insisted weakly as he looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I'm going to leave you here over night, let you get some proper rest. By tomorrow I'm sure you'll see everything a lot clearer and then be able to tell us what happened out there. Did you get attacked?”
He nodded, recalling the torture. Then his thoughts swirled, confusion setting in as he recalled the message he had to deliver.
“Serena is with the captain, he wants to kill us all! He wants Circus!”
Greg stared at him.
“Serena? No, she vanished when the island was invaded. If she was alive, she would be looking for Parsons. I think you've been having a crazy dream, mate.”
“She said to tell him not to look for her! She said be ready for the undead when they come!”
Greg's gaze lingered on Alex as he looked into his wide, panicked eyes. The guy was still unwell, he was exhausted and recovering from a bite wound and some obvious torture... but a crazy guy like Alex, out there on his own? Anyone could have picked him up, robbed him, abused him... Everything he had just been told made no sense.
“Alex, Serena wouldn't say that. She would want Parsons to find her.”
He gave a gasp.
“Greg...” his grip tightened on his sleeve, “She said I had to warn you all about the invasion! Hazlewood has a ship! He keeps the zombies in the cargo hol
d... they forced me to tell them everything! They want this town!”
Then he let go of his sleeve, closed his eyes and gave into his tiredness.
“I can still fly with two missing fingers... I still have wings...” he murmured.
As he began to sleep once more, Greg thought about what he had said. It had seemed like insane rambling until the part about the ship... it fitted with his injuries that he had been tortured.... Greg's eyes grew wider.
“Shit!” he exclaimed, then he hurried from the room, dashed down the corridor and ran over to the desk just as the receptionist was about to leave the office.
“Check the staff rota,” he ordered, “Make sure there's a nurse on duty tonight for Casper. And tell security to stay at their post. There's a crisis!”
Before the woman could ask what the crisis was about Greg was gone, dashing out of the door and heading for his car. He had to find John and Marc and tell them what Alex had said. Then he needed to go home, because even if Flint wasn't the threat that he feared, perhaps a greater one was lurking out at sea...
As the skies darkened further and the rain began to lash, the storm was rolling in from the rough seas as Vicki watched from upstairs, standing by a parted net curtain as she looked out at the wild weather.
“Hurry home, Marc...” she whispered.
Just then Cleo entered the room as Vicki turned from the approaching storm with a worried look in her eyes.
“It's okay, Vicki. It's just a storm. Maybe we should close the curtains. It's not great to look at, it's going to be bad when the sky gets dark – huge forks of lightening.”
“I just want Marc home,” she replied, “I don't even like the thought of him out in the bad weather now. Maybe I'm being too protective, but he's more vulnerable than he knows.”
“Only if he chooses to think that way,” Cleo reminded her.
Then Vicki noticed that Cleo was wearing Greg's shirt, it was hanging loose over her jeans.
“I haven't seen you wear one of his shirts since the day you jumped from the bridge!” she said, laughing as all trace of anxiety left her expression.
“I'm just missing him today. I guess we both want our guys home when a big storm's brewing,” Cleo replied, “I'll check on the kids,” she added, then she turned away, feeling safer now she could feel the weight of the loaded gun holstered at her side.
Parsons and Emma were out on patrol, braving the storm to search for Flint. All available patrols had been sent out on this mission, just in case he was not the harmless amnesiac he claimed to be. This left the beach wide open during the storm, but as very few creatures had ever washed in and none during a storm in the history of the town since the apocalypse, the odds on increased risk tonight were seemingly low.
John Mundy was over at his office in the fair ground. The circus was closed, the rides that were normally lit up at as dusk beckoned were standing still and dark. The fair had closed because of the expected storm. Announcements had made through the whole of the town by security staff, ordering that all residents were ordered to stay indoors during the hurricane – a storm was certainly arriving, and a heavy one, too – but it had been John's idea to announce a hurricane warning. That was a sure way of keeping residents locked safely in their homes until the night was over. By then, he hoped Flint would have been found.
John had just sent out the last of his men, he had coordinated the search making sure no area was left untouched. He had given orders to bring Flint in peacefully and to assume he was harmless – but had added that if he showed any indication of aggression, the order was shoot to kill. John gave a heavy sigh as he pushed the map of the town aside and then reached for a glass of whiskey. He watched as the amber liquid swirled in the glass, his thoughts reflecting on the worst case scenario: If they were forced to shoot Flint, they might be destroying the only hope of Christian ever developing the bite virus vaccine... He wanted to be out there with the search, but he had to stay here in the office, because if anyone came back and needed their leader, they had to know where to find him.
Just then the door burst open, bringing with it wind and spatters of wild rain. Greg's hair was soaked as he went inside, then pushed the door shut, blocking out the increasingly violent weather. He shook droplets of rain from his hair and brushed more from his coat, then hurried into the office. His eyes were wide. He looked alarmed. Doc Fitzroy didn't panic about anything these days, but right now, he looked scared.
“You need to listen to me!”
He placed his hands on the desk as he leaned on it, looking intently at John as rain dripped from his coat to the desk, “Flint may be the least of our concerns. I've been talking to Alex -”
“He was ranting like a loon when Christian took him in for treatment! He's been off his meds for months!”
“He's back on them now and starting to settle. I thought he was ranting, too. But he's not. He's been tortured. That's obvious – and I asked him why. He said he was held prisoner by a Captain Hazlewood who owns a large ship and he said they have a horde of zombies in the hold. They tortured him to find out where he was from, they made him tell them everything about Circus. He said Hazlewood is planning an attack!”
John took a sip of his drink and set it down.
“You're sure he wasn't hallucinating?”
Greg gave a sigh.
“Yes, I'm sure... but maybe some of it could be imagined, I don't know. He said Serena is alive, he said she's with the captain and Parsons mustn't look for her because he has to be ready for the invasion. There's some truth in this somewhere, I know it, John! That man has puncture wounds in his genitals. That's pretty heavy torture. That says to me, they were desperate to find out about this town. Alex would never betray us. But anyone would start talking if their balls got used as a pincushion!”
John drained his glass and got up from his desk, then he opened up a cabinet and checked his weapon before taking out a second and offering it to Greg.
“I'm already armed,” he replied.
“I have no plan set in place for a large scale invasion,” John replied, “Right now every man and woman on my team are combing the town for Flint. Some of those patrols will include the beach area, but not constantly and not in heavy numbers. We have to hope that some of what Alex has said is nothing more than rambling. If he was tortured for that reason, if there is a ship out there planning to invade, these things take time. They'd probably watch the town from the sea first. A ship is easy to spot, they'd have to use a smaller vessel. Tomorrow, I'll tell Marc to instruct all on sea patrol to be on the look out for boats. I really do think surveillance would be employed first.”
Worry still reflected in Greg's eyes.
“But what if they're already on their way?”
Frustration spilled into anger as John's fist thumped the desk.
“I have no more men to send out there! I'm doing my best here, Greg. We can't call off the search for Flint – who may be dangerous – or not – in favour of the rantings of crazy Alex Casper! There's a raging storm almost on top of us, we just have to hope we find him tonight, I want that man locked in a cell down the old police station when he is found. I don't care if he's harmless now, he's not causing a man hunt again!”
Greg nodded.
“Maybe you're right... I don't know,” he replied, “But I'm getting home to my family now because Flint is still out there.”
“Take care,” said John.
“I always do,” Greg replied, then he left the office, opened up the caravan door and stepped out braving howling winds and lashing rain as he made a run for it down the path, heading for the entrance where his car was parked.
The thunder rumbled, by now what would have been a sunset was overcast and looking more like the approach of nightfall as the clouds blackened and rolled in. The storm stretched out to sea, it went on for miles, out on the water, it reflected like camera flashes as lighting struck then struck again. Another clap of thunder sounded louder and the rain was so heavy, visibilit
y was poor.
Greg was struggling to see the road ahead as the rain blurred the windscreen and the wipers could barely keep up with the heavy rain. A car sped past, the tires squealing on the road surface as the driver almost lost control in the extreme weather. Then another car took the bend in the road, this time the surface was too much for the old, armour plated vehicle. It skidded, swerved, then Greg tried to turn but the vehicle slammed into his car, the spikes embedding from one car to the other as armour plates pierced, bonding the two vehicles as they went into a spin, then came to a sharp stop at the side of the road.
Greg sat there, listening to the teeming rain, hearing the thunder as moments later more lightning flickered. The world was growing darker and colder as the weather took over and night beckoned. He was still clutching the steering wheel, shaken up by the smash. He looked down to see a spiked tip had penetrated the door on his side of the car, it had been a near miss. He wasn't injured. He reached for the passenger door, ripping his seat belt free as he slid across, then opened up the door.
A car was hurtling along in the other direction, the driver almost blinded by the rain. He pulled the door closed as the car sped past, then looked out the cracked window, saw no more on coming traffic and opened up the door, got out of the car and ran around to the other side of the vehicle that had fused with his on collision. As he looked through the broken window of the driver side, he felt a jolt of alarm as he realised he had hit Christian's car. The doctor was slumped at the wheel.
“Christian?” he said, speaking loudly over the rush of rain and the rumble of thunder. As more thunder sounded, Christian's body jolted, then he sat up sharply. He had no visible injuries, but his face turned pale as he looked about the wrecked car, then realised he had slammed into another driver. As he recalled the rain and the skid and the impact, he looked to the man who was leaning in the broken window.
“Greg?”
“It had to be you who wrecked my car!” he said, then he wrenched open the door and leaned in, freeing his seat belt.
