I began where all stories should: at the beginning.
It was truncated in places. I spoke faster than I usually would, though much of that I attributed to nerves. It didn’t take long, though folk began to sit or kneel. I didn’t think they were tired. More sat down when I told them where I found Isabelle. They were shocked. Scared. Dumbfounded. Placid horror starting giving way to anger. The anger continued to build as I went over the wounds of Tom, the innocent words of Isabelle. I was cheered when I told them how I left Austin to die in the road. Rick, who had become an enemy through our tale, was reinstated to heroic status when I told them how he had helped smuggle us back into the community. Rich bolstered my tale when needed, confirming some of the wilder points when shouts of potential disbelief rang in the air. I was truly glad to have him at my back. With my tale coming to an end, creative disposition had left me to leave one detail until last. Rob again led the way for me.
"So we’re confronting Gordon? And Travis? You’re going to lead us aren’t you, Warren? You have to!"
"I can’t lead you at all. I’m really not suitable. I heard from someone who is though. I heard a transmission, when I was out of here. Do any of you wonder why we have no radios allowed in here? Why they don’t want us talking to each other? Why Gordon hated that I was bringing everyone together? Why practically no one is allowed outside the community once they are in it?
"We’re not the only group of survivors. In fact, we’re pretty small." I let this settle in for a while. Rich barked everyone back into relative silence for me again. I definitely couldn’t lead if I could control a crowd. "The real doozy is that they have the military on their side, and they’re getting help from overseas. They’re trying to beat this thing, and Gordon has kept us penned in here like pigs. Tom and Isabelle were the first two he picked for slaughter. He’d have taken more of us, eventually. Austin already tried to take my sister, once. They didn’t want to help us. They just wanted to rule us."
This time, there was no quieting them. Our combined efforts only resulted in more volume. I stood on the car and bellowed for attention. I even started flapping my arms about. All eyes steadily turned to me, but the voices didn’t stop. Pointing started. I jumped off the car to wade into the middle of them. As I felt more than air rush past with my little jump and a shotgun report crack through the air, I realised that little action had saved my life. Just as I became happy for the shouting, the screaming started.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"The punishment for returning in exile is death, Warren Fielding. Ah, and you, Richard Gozdecki, I see you have been sucked into this cretin’s little games. Well I’ll kill you too and don’t think I won’t."
I scrambled up from the ground and peered around the car. Gordon was striding up the road with more than a few people in tow. They didn’t seem to be heavily supportive of him; they seemed to be simply tagging along for the ride, to see what spectacle this gathering would deliver. I scanned the crowd for Rick and could not see him. This could be either good or bad. The burgeoning optimist in me elected to take this as a good thing.
Gordon was hefting a rifle. It had one shot, which was a good thing for me. He was also apparently quite bad with it, which was also very beneficial. The screaming was coming from both sides. No one expected weapons to be fired from within the walls of the community.
Amidst the noise I found my voice.
"They’re your rules, Gordon. You wrote them and we did not agree."
"You live inside my walls. You will abide by my rules."
"What other choice do you give us?"
"There are no other choices!"
"That is a lie. There are other survivors, Gordon. They are supported by the military. They have help from abroad, Gordon. Why are you keeping that from us?"
The outrage for the newcomers started as a small ripple from the back of the crowd. It surged forward as a wave of questions. Gordon bellowed his defiance. He called me a lawbreaker and a liar. No one believed him. I had set no precedent for this. I bellowed back.
"There are laws we are all familiar with, Gordon. Laws we all used to live by not very long ago. How long would you be sent down for Gordon, for kidnap? Imprisonment? Torture? Paedophilia?"
"Lies! He’s lying!"
"What reason do I have to lie to you? What reason do I have to lie to any of these people? What would I gain from it? I just want to see these people safe. If I were only looking out for myself, I’d already be halfway to Devon by now, heading for the safety of the military and guns. But I’m not. I’m here. Because I found out that you were holding a young girl against her will waiting for the right time to use her. I found Tom. You and Charles told everyone that he was dead. You or one of your vile pack abducted Isabelle. I couldn’t let this happen."
Gordon had loaded another shot and was bringing the gun up to report when someone from the crowd pushed it down. I didn’t recognise the man, but he was brave, no doubt. Gordon elbowed him. That act of violence brought a surge on top of him. Four different men pinned him down. The crowd bellowed for truth.
It wasn’t the showdown I had imagined in the centre of the community, but all the people I needed to be here, were. I had the full attention of most, and in my peripheral vision I could see yet more people coming to bear witness to our words.
"Quiet everyone. Quiet! We can’t hear him speak if everyone has to have their say."
"Go on ask your questions. I’ll give you whatever answers you want, you ungrateful little bastards. I gave you all the shelter you could need here, a safe home, and organisation. And for what? One troublemaker cries wolf and you all believe him?"
"No. They don’t have to believe him. They just have to believe me."
Tom limped up the road. A break in the crowd formed to let him through. As he came into view I saw he was leaning heavily on Rick. Rick looked calm and collected. Tom wasn’t much weight to bear, and this gesture would no doubt be lightening the load on Rick’s conscience too. Tom’s voice silenced the masses more effectively than the gunshot ever could. There were whisperings; if there were new people here, Tom would be new to them. They knew that we had lost people early on, but not who. His reappearance would take some explaining.
"Because I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that man there is one of the vilest cunts I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
"Where’s Charles? He’s a part of this too. And Travis. They’re all responsible for it. Everything Warren has told you is true. The explosion at the house was a trap. A ruse. Ben, Connor and Tobias died because they wanted to test us. They wanted to see who wouldn’t care about the loss. And they wanted the first settler in their little house of fun. I was chained in a room and tortured for days. Gordon spouts off about his laws? Didn’t he exile Austin? Then why was Austin kept in a house fully stocked, fed, even guarded? He was Gordon’s gatemaster in that vile place, and he made sure I knew why I received every single lash. Every single fucking stroke. They…" his voice broke, "they raped me. And they were going to rape a seven-year-old girl. This is the man who claims to be in charge of you. To have your best interests at heart."
The mob erupted. Charles was pushed to the front of the crowd. I ran forwards shouting, trying to bring calm. Rich did the same. We were too late. People were already laying into him. Prone on the floor, he was being kicked hard. He went limp before too long, which was a small mercy I suppose. In the furore, I lost sight of Rick, and of Gordon. Travis came running to the throng, oblivious to what had gone before him. Before the mob could lay their hands on him, Rich scooped him up and started pushing him away. He almost burst his lungs calling for calm, and at the front people started responding to him. Rick and Tom stood together. Tom was staring into the crowd, a distant grin on his face. I couldn’t blame him. I thought I had suffered; it was nothing compared to what he had endured.
I moved towards them; was nearly at Rick, when the rifle sounded again. Again, I felt a whistle of air, and again, I knew that Gordon had missed. But in such a c
rowd, it would be nigh on impossible to fire off a round and miss everyone.
People fell back, knowing they hadn’t been hit, but scared they might be in line for the next bullet. The only person that didn’t fall back was Rick. Rick fell over. Tom stumbled, his human crutch lost, and fell to the ground next to him as his legs buckled.
There were screams behind me. Carla rushed past as I regained my senses and rushed forward. I checked over my shoulder. Gordon’s gun had been taken from him this time. He was between Alastair, Rob, and David. They holding off others, but Gordon at least was under control. Travis’ jaw hung open. I fell to my knees at Rick’s side as Carla knelt by his head. She was crying, despite the bad blood that had grown between them. You don’t spend years with someone to stop caring overnight.
"I think you got what you wanted, nosy fucking journalists." Rick coughed and laughed. "You were right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you Carla, too. I shouldn’t…"
"Don’t talk like you’re going to die. We’ll get you help."
"We don’t have any help, love. It’s a pretty fucking bad shot. I don’t know when I’m going to die, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen. Could be worse. Could have been zombies."
She laughed at that. I couldn’t hold back a little snort myself. Rick. Ever sarcastic in the face of seriousness.
Travis shouted out then. I couldn’t hear him, but Rich did. He started yelling out a name I didn’t recognise. The name carried over the heads of the confused crowd. A doctor. We had a doctor. They were calling for someone that could help. I was pulled out of the way for a different man to take my place. He was middle-aged with a soft head of grey hair. That was the only detail I could take in before I was told that they would take care of him, and that I should decide what we were to do with Gordon.
Mob mentality still festered on either side of me as I was thrust in front of a man I had grown to despise. I was being put in charge of his fate. Every fibre within my body wanted to let this crowd rip him apart. That would be no way to start these people on the road to freedom. They had listened to me so far. There had been suggestions from a small group that I would be considered a leader. I was being given the most important decision to make in the community at that very second. That seemed tantamount to being in charge. Gordon had got this so very wrong since the outset. I didn’t want to be a Gordon.
"Come on then, finish it."
Gordon hissed under the weight of the men holding him down. I didn’t respond. A muted calm settled over everyone. I thought about what I was doing. I sought through the crowd for a familiar face, for reassurance that what I was about to do was right. I found no one. This decision was mine alone.
"Take him to his home and secure him in there."
A murmur of confusion stirred, and I sought to extinguish the flame before it caught.
"Gordon has lied to us. There are better places for us; safer places. The community is a pipe dream. I’m making contact with a bigger settlement and I’m arranging to move us all there. Until we leave here, it is not safe to do anything else with him. He’s under house arrest."
"Kill him!"
This suggestion roared through the crowd. I wanted to join in their cries, but had to deny them the blood they wanted. "No! Killing was Gordon’s way! Killing is what the infected do. If I do not have to kill a man, then I choose not to. That doesn’t mean we can’t give him the same fate he would have dealt any of us.
"We will leave here. When we do, we will strip the community clean. We will leave Gordon in the prison he wanted to build. We’ll leave him tied naked to the flagpole at the centre of the community, and when we go we will leave the gates open. Like any man, he’ll have a chance to escape. But he’ll be without weapons and without friends. I think I know how that story will end."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"I have to tell you now, before I chicken out."
I had not long woken after what seemed like a lifetime of sleep since my time outside the safe walls of the community. Charles’ body had been thrown outside the walls. Travis and Gordon were being kept under house arrest together. No one else so far had been implicated in their disgusting little plot. Like Rick, all the other guards had been oblivious of what they were getting involved with. I decided that ignorance was not a crime; it hadn’t been before, and it shouldn’t be now.
With a gunshot wound to the stomach, I had been told Rick's hopes of surviving the night were grim. Morning had brought with it no news of his condition. Still I didn’t keep up my hopes that no news was good news.
After a shower, Karen had come to bed with me. We had been afforded the luxury of our own room; no sharing. I had been exhausted. As soon as we had got into the bed, a fresh change of clothes on, I wrapped my arms around her soft body and was asleep within moments.
Now, she sat up against the bedstead, her eyes serious and her brow heavy. My heart sank. This wasn’t going to be good news. Images flashed through my mind and I shouted them all down. I was tending to flair towards the dramatic these days. She had a story to tell me. I was good at sitting and listening, better than I was at public speaking. She had told me once before, that she had unfinished business to tell me. This was going to be it.
She cleared her throat and wouldn’t meet my eyes. I sought out her hand and clasped it gently in mine. She was either scared or ashamed of what she was about to tell me, and I didn’t want her to feel alone.
"I told you about my escape from London. About running with my old work friends? I didn’t tell you the whole story. You already know that though, don’t you? They all died, in the end. I was the only survivor. We thought we were all going to die, at a time.
"We were in a building. I can’t remember where. It was a shop. We were hiding in the back. Just the two of us. The infected were outside. They were slow, but there were lots of them. He kept telling me how this was the end. That we’d have nothing. Be dead by morning. He started telling me how he’d always fancied me. Not love me, you understand. Just that he wanted to fuck me. It was only going to go one way. He… he raped me, Warren. In the back of that store. I wanted to stop him. He was just… stronger. I’m not weak. I know I’m not weak. I didn’t want him to. I…"
I wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. I didn’t hush her. She needed to say whatever she needed to say at this point. No wonder her levels of anger. No wonder her fear.
"He fell asleep, after. Didn’t talk to me. Just fell asleep. I watched him. I wanted to kill him. He had no right. No right at all! We lose civilisation for a couple of weeks and all I see from men is take, take, take. I couldn’t let him, Warren. I…I killed him."
She shrunk against my body and let the tears overtake her. I held on to her and let them flow. She was still tense. Her story wasn’t over yet. After a time, her shoulders stopped shuddering. I felt her wipe her nose on my shirt. She sat back up, but she still wouldn’t look at me.
"I stabbed him. Quite simple. In the throat. Fucker never knew what hit him."
"Nice." I muttered. My first response to her words.
A smile fluttered across her lips. "It was quite satisfying to watch, it has to be said. I waited. There were lots of undead outside and I'd been thinking of a plan to escape. At least one of us had been. I’d thought of using his body for bait. He was too heavy for me to lift. I was seriously considering chopping him up and using the bits for bait instead, when he started moving again.
"He came back as one of them. The slower infected. It was petrifying. I swung his legs around to line him up—I don’t know what I thought I was going to do really. Then he… he woke up. His head lifted up, his eyes moved around. He couldn’t speak though, not just because I’d stuck a hole in his windpipe. He came back as a slow infected. I had to kill him again, Warren."
"I hope you still had that knife to hand."
"Oh killing him again wasn’t the hard part. A little bit of me was quite happy I got to do it twice, until I started thinking about it. Have you ever seen
someone that just died come back with the infection?"
I thought about the old couple at the house and shook my head.
"No," she said. "This isn’t that kind of horror show. Dead is dead. If you turn into one of them, it’s because you’re already infected. I checked his body. The motherfucker had a bite on his calf. It wasn’t a big one, so he didn’t turn quick. But he was infected, and he was going to die. He knew it, and that’s why he wanted a piece of me before he went out. That selfish sonofabitch raped me because he knew beyond certainty that he was going to die.
"I thought I was infected too. It’s in all bodily fluids—that’s what all the bulletins say. Well, I’m here, so apparently his sperm wasn’t all powerful. But it might just be enough to kill me anyway."
I wasn’t following her, and she saw this. She spelt it out to me. "All bodily fluids carry the infection. I’ve heard of people being bitten and not turn, because there just wasn’t enough of the infection to replicate. Our bodies can fight this, Warren. A little scratch isn’t a death sentence. Whatever he put in me, my body managed to resist it."
I gave her a cuddle. "Well that’s good, isn’t it?"
"You’d think so. What I don’t know, is what would happen when an infected sperm fertilises a normal egg. What then?"
"I… you... you’re pregnant?"
She turned and nodded, her eyes distant, the tears returning to roll down her red cheeks. "He raped me despite knowing about his infection. And now I know I’m pregnant with his child. What is it going to be, Warren? And you know I don’t mean boy or girl."
I didn’t answer her. Boy or girl…or zombie? And when others found out about this, how would they react? Was Karen carrying around an evolutionary infected inside of her? I thought about it more. Something in my brain clicked.
"Don’t think so badly about it, love. Our bodies can resist a little of this, sure. But a child born with it? Well, there’s a big chance it would be fully resistant to the infection, don’t you think?"
Great Bitten (Book 2): Survival Page 28
