by Paul Cave
“Are you okay?” Squirrel asked Alice.
“Yeah … Yeah …” Alice responded, slightly dazed.
“Jeez, the truck’s totalled,” he said.
The mechanic turned his attention to the outside world. An eerie silence had fallen all about them. “Where’d they go?”
Alice peered through the shattered window. She could find no sign of the dark horde. “Maybe the sound of the crash scared them away.”
Squirrel nodded hopefully. “What the hell do we do now?”
“I’m not sure, but we can’t stay in here. It’s too exposed.”
“We’ll never reach the underground on foot. They’ll tear us to pieces before we get over that hill.”
“You’re right, but we may be able to make it into the town,” Alice said, looking in the opposite direction, and at the nearer, desolate streets.
“The town? I don’t like the look of the town.” The words came out like a plume of vocalised dread.
“It’s our only hope,” Alice explained. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be scared of. I’ve scouted through it many times on salvage runs. It’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“You know what I mean.”
Squirrel breathed out a sigh of resignation. “Okay, you’re right. Wait a minute.” He reached across her, popped open the glove-box and retrieved a handful of shotgun shells. Alice slid along the cabin, then climbed out from the passenger side after Squirrel. She bent back inside, ran her hand under the passenger’s seat and retrieved a pistol.
“This may come in handy,” she said.
They left Old Betsy to lie in peace.
They moved away from the stricken vehicle and headed towards the outskirts of town. Squirrel stayed in the lead. The shotgun traced left and right, as the mechanic watched out for any sudden movements. None came. “Where the hell have they all gone?”
“I don’t know,” Alice replied. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
They entered the town and left the highway behind them. Dark structures stood on either side. Instead of taking refuge in one of the first uninhabited buildings, Alice led them into the heart of the settlement. The heart was still. Nothing moved, thankfully.
“Let’s get inside,” Squirrel suggested.
“Just a little bit further,” Alice insisted.
“Where are we going exactly?” he enquired.
“The jailhouse.”
“What?”
“We’re going to the jailhouse. It’s the strongest structure. Plus, there’ll be provisions inside.”
“Provisions?”
“Trust me.”
“So what happens once we’re there?” he asked.
“We wait.”
“For what?”
“For our rescue. I hope,” she said.
“You hope?”
“Nobody knows we’re here, remember?” Alice explained, dismally.
He remembered how he had talked her into taking him on Old Betsy’s secret test run, and groaned miserably. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologised, realising it was his eagerness to escape the confinement of the underground that had put them here.
“It’s not your fault,” Alice reassured him.
Woof! Scratch disagreed.
After a short while they turned onto the street where the jailhouse stood.
“Almost there,” Alice said. She led them across the empty road onto the opposite sidewalk before climbing a short flight of stone steps.
The squat, square-shaped building of the jailhouse stood at the top. Although all the glass from the windows had been blown out long ago, they were still secured by rows of iron bars. As Squirrel approached the first step, he noticed that some of the bars had been worked on from the outside, as if someone had actually wanted to break in, instead of out. In some places, one or two open cracks had appeared at the point where the bars and cement met.
“Looks like someone was real desperate to get inside,” he commented.
“Yeah,” Alice agreed.
She reached the top step first, leaving Squirrel and the mutt at the bottom.
Yap! Yap! Scratch barked an urgent warning. In the next instant, two dark shapes flanked Alice. A third shape appeared and, before Squirrel could take aim, the wolf bounded down the steps and snatched the little dog from his feet.
“NO!” he cried, watching the wolf disappear with the mutt between its teeth. He ran into the road, but the wolf had already disappeared.
Yap..! Yap..!
“SCRATCH!” he yelled.
He had barely a second to feel grief before his peripheral vision was filled by two dark shapes. He twisted left and right and watched the wolves close in. Bastards were following us all along, he thought. They were waiting until we’d split up! He heard a sharp crack from behind, and then a high-pitched yowl as Alice dropped the nearest wolf. A second crack sounded, followed by another howl of pain.
The beast to Squirrel’s left darted in, aiming for the mechanic’s thigh. Expecting a mouthful of flesh, the wolf instead got a mouthful of lead. A second set of jaws snapped at Squirrel’s legs and this time they found purchase. Squirrel cried as he felt sharp fangs slice their way through his skin. Luckily though, the wolf had made only a cautious attack. It released his leg and quickly skittered away. Nevertheless, with the taste of blood hot on its tongue, the beast became more daring; and with a howl it darted back in. Squirrel wasted no time in taking aim. Instead, he simply fired the weapon from his hip. The recoil jolted his arm back, which threw the buckshot wide of its mark. The wolf hit the mechanic and both dropped to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. With a metallic clatter the shotgun bounced away from Squirrel’s fingers. He balled his fists and began to pound on the animal’s flanks.
“NO!” Alice screamed. She jumped over a large shape and bounded down the steps. With the pistol out in front of her, she closed in on the two writhing forms. “HEY! FUCKER!” she yelled.
For a second, the wolf stopped its attack and looked up. It fixed Alice with two scarlet eyes. Then its jaws opened as it positioned itself over Squirrel’s throat, ready to deliver the fatal blow.
“Fuck you!” Alice cried, and squeezed the trigger.
Suddenly, the wolf possessed a third scarlet eye, directly in the middle of the first two. Dropping over Squirrel, the beast shuddered once, and then lay still. Alice helped pull the mechanic from under the slain beast. “Can you walk?” she asked.
“Just try and stop me.”
“Let’s hurry. We need to get inside.” She tucked the pistol into her waistband, then bent and snatched up the shotgun. Next, she took hold of Squirrel’s arm and began to lead him up the steps.
“Wait!” the mechanic said. “What about Scratch?”
“He’s gone,” Alice replied.
“No, I heard him bark. After the wolf had taken him. He might still be alive,” Squirrel said, trying to convince her.
“Then he’ll have to take care of himself. Now come on,” Alice ordered.
She pulled at his arm, somehow managing to drag the distraught mechanic up the steps towards the front of the jailhouse. She slammed her shoulder against the entrance in an attempt to gain access. The door was shut tight. From behind, the howls grew ever closer. Numerous outlines began to take shape.
“Shit, hurry,” Squirrel urged.
Alice tried the door for a second time, pulling and pushing against the handle. “I don’t understand. The door should open easily.”
“Here, let me,” Squirrel said.
He hopped onto one foot, took position in front of the door, and then launched his greater bulk towards the obstruction. However, just as he was about to connect with it, the door unexpectedly opened. A figure appeared at the threshold. The figure sidestepped, which allowed Squirrel to stumble past. With a crash, the mechanic fell heavily onto his face.
Alice had a second to be shocked by the unexpected appearance. One of the figure’s hands shot out, taking the shotgun. A second hand l
unged out, but this one grabbed a handful of her jacket. And with ease she was pulled into the safety of the jailhouse.
***
The wolf continued to work itself into darkness, with the warm prize clamped between its jaws. At first the small dog had wiggled and squirmed as it had tried to break free, but eventually it had ceased to struggle and now lay limp and lifeless.
The wolf found a quiet spot before dropping onto its haunches. Its jaws opened and the terrier rolled onto the earth. The wolf licked its muzzle. With a deep rumble from its belly, the beast opened its jaws, intent on beginning its feast. The wolf’s ears twitched abruptly. Something had moved in the undergrowth nearby.
A twig snapped directly behind.
The beast jumped to its feet and twisted in the direction of the noise. Another rustle of movement came from the left. Thinking its prey was in danger of being snatched away, the wolf began to dig a hole in the earth. It dug the soil up and quickly produced a small pit. Its muzzle lifted and the wolf sniffed at the air. Caught on the night breeze was the rank odour of one of its brethren. Realising its prize could be taken at any moment, the beast turned back to bury the mutt in the pit.
But the little terrier had vanished.
Chapter Eleven
Situated around the large wooden table were the underground’s leaders and most prominent figures. At the head of the table sat Major Patterson, all anger and irritation. Directly to his left was the empty chair that Jacob had just vacated, and opposite that sat Father, his arms hidden within the folds of his robes. Captain John Banantyne was seated next to the holy man, and facing him across the table was two of his trusted lieutenants, Samuel Farr and Kate Hutson. At the centre of the table were the Harper brothers, silently watching the heated exchange before them.
Major Patterson shook his head with dismay. “Are you sure?”
Jacob Cain nodded.
“Damn!” Patterson snapped.
Jacob moved around the table. “Don’t worry, they can’t have gone far.”
“They were fools. We should leave them to their fate. I’m not willing to risk any of my men,” Captain John Banantyne said, puffing out his chest subconsciously.
“That’s okay. Leave it to me, as always,” Jacob retorted bitterly. He moved over to his two nephews.
“Jacob, wait,” Patterson said. He stood and joined the older tracker. “Captain Banantyne’s right. We just can’t risk the loss of anyone else, which includes you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not leaving anyone out there,” Jacob stated.
“But we need to start coordinating our offensive against Ezekiel, and we need every able body here to help,” the Major explained.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“It’s too dangerous. Ezekiel sends more and more scouting parties south. If you get intercepted, then that could lead them right here,” Patterson pointed out.
“Don’t worry, that won’t happen.”
Captain Banantyne joined the two men. “It won’t happen because you’re not going, and that’s the end of it.”
Jacob and Banantyne locked eyes: Flint grey stared into muddy brown. A moment of genuine hatred passed between the two men before the captain was forced to look away.
“I’m not under your control anymore, SIR,” Jacob spat.
“You never were,” Banantyne remarked, referring to Jacob’s long-standing inability to follow direct orders.
“You don’t give orders, you just make mistakes,” Jacob commented.
The captain fell silent for a moment before saying, “Jacob, it wasn’t my fault Hannah was … taken.”
“No? Then who ordered us to attack the fuel depot without first understanding what resistance we’d encounter?” Jacob asked, rage building inside him.
“We’ve been through this. We were caught in unexpected crossfire. I wasn’t to blame,” Banantyne muttered.
Major Patterson’s head dropped momentarily as he remembered the day Captain Banantyne had returned with half his platoon missing or dead - Hannah included. He gave a weary sigh. “Okay, the truth is we can’t afford to lose a single man, especially you Jacob. But neither can we lose our best mechanic, Squirrel, or our offensive will end real abruptly if all our transports fail.”
“So what do you propose?” Jacob asked.
“That Captain Banantyne leads the rescue, if they’re still alive to be rescued,” the Major said.
“Sir, that’s ridiculous!” Banantyne spat. “We need my men as keenly as we do him.” His eyes rested on Jacob’s weathered features.
The Major focused on his subordinate. “Don’t worry, Jacob’s going too.”
“What?” Jacob asked, open-mouthed.
“It’s time you two ended this feud of yours. I need you both to start working together if we’ve any chance of defeating Ezekiel, and now’s a good time to begin. Captain, you and Jacob will take two men only. You’ll go on foot, so Jacob will lead the way. Once you find them, and if they’re still … pure, I want Jacob to pull back and you’ll coordinate the extraction.”
“But if we meet heavy resistance?” the captain asked.
“If you feel you’re likely to be outnumbered then I want you all to pull back,” Patterson stated.
“But what about Squirrel and Alice?” Elliot asked.
Patterson turned towards the older brother. “If they’re already captured or undergoing the change, then it’s too late for them.” He paused momentarily, as his next comment struggled to form itself. “Elliot, you’ll make the third man. If they have already been changed, then it’s your job to get in close enough to take them out.”
“Take them out?” Elliot questioned.
“Alice Hammond and the mechanic, Squirrel,” Patterson said, forlornly.
“What?”
“We can’t allow them to compromise the location of this base, so I need you to make sure they don’t,” Patterson said. “That’s why I’m allowing this mission to go ahead. If they have fallen into enemy hands then we’re all at risk. Elliot, I’m aware you’re close to Alice but you’re also the best marksman here, and if anyone can get in close enough to deal with the situation, then it’s you.”
“Deal with the situation …” Elliot mumbled.
“Son,” Patterson began, “we can’t afford for one of those bastards to get in here. You understand that, don’t you?”
Elliot’s head dropped. “Yeah, I understand.”
Jacob reached over to place his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that.”
Daniel Harper stood and joined his brother. “Okay, what are we waiting for?”
Patterson shook his head. “Not you Daniel. I need you here.”
A fleeting look of anger fixed itself to the younger brother’s face. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“You’re gonna have to sit this one out,” Patterson said. “I need you elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I’ll explain later,” the Major replied. He turned to Captain Banantyne. “Pick your final man then move out immediately.”
Banantyne’s hand snapped out a stiff salute “SIR!” The hand dropped to his side and he looked towards the table. “Lieutenant Hutson, come with me.”
The young brown-haired woman stood and joined her superior.
The party of four was now complete.
“Okay, let’s go,” Jacob Cain said.
Chapter Twelve
The flatbed truck worked its way through the dark forest. A group of human refugees sat huddled together in the rear, desperately trying to stay warm, the wind about them snapping at bare skin with icy teeth. The engine roared and gears ground together as it struggled to carry its load. With a shifting of gears the truck rolled to an abrupt halt.
A squeal of rusty hinges sounded. The driver opened his door and climbed out. He dropped down from the cabin. He bent against the wind, and then quickly made his way towards a nearby tree. His hand closed around a protruding nodul
e. With a twist of his wrist he turned the knob clockwise. Then the driver returned to the truck. The oppressive darkness pushed heavily against his back until he had reached the safety of the truck. He climbed inside, shutting the door quickly, in an attempt to hold the night and all its horrors at bay.
A few seconds passed before an audible hiss of compressed air sounded from underneath the truck. The vehicle dropped suddenly forwards as the ground around it began to tilt away. Huge pistons hissed with expelled pressure as the mechanical platform dropped the vehicle and its occupants into the earth. Within moments the truck had disappeared underground.
The driver switched on the headlights to reveal a huge cavern. After a slow descent the ramp reached the carved rock. The driver popped the truck into gear and then drove off the platform. Once the back wheels had cleared the ramp, the platform began to ascend. Within minutes the slab of rock had sealed the hole above. The engine cut and the cavern dropped into an eerie silence.
Six bedraggled figures climbed down from the back of the truck. Five out of the six were male. A single female stood just to the side of the main group. After a moment’s pause, three figures approached the group from the opposite end of the loading bay. Their footfalls echoed loudly throughout the cavern.
As the three approached, the newly arrived woman carefully examined each individually. The person to the right was an overweight, middle-aged man. A dark beard covered the lower half of his face. Dressed in black robes, he was clearly a man of religion. The figure flanking the left was half the holy man’s age, handsome, and walked with an aura of self-assured confidence. In his hands, he carried a lethal looking machinegun. The woman turned her attention to the central figure. Dressed in a worn-out army uniform, he walked with authority and was obviously the leader of the small party. The woman allowed a brief grin to brush itself against her lips.
Major Patterson reached the bedraggled group first. “Welcome home,” he said, spreading his hands.
