He had to back-track a hundred metres or so to a front garden and driveway where a trailer was hooked up to a Range Rover. The door was locked. He looked momentarily at the dark house – nothing but birthday cards in one window, drawn curtains at the others.
He lifted the trailer off the tailgate – it was handily empty – and pushed it backwards onto the road. It was heavy-but-not-heavy, and he found he could push it easily enough.
"What I should find is a bike. Add to list."
He pushed it up to the car and opened the doors. Everything inside was just the same. He began to fill the trailer with the rest of the plastic-packed goods. After, he took a tin of chicken soup and smashed its edge along the curb until it was cracked enough that it spilled. He gulped it back in one go. For a moment his stomach was reminded of its hunger and it threatened to double him up in pain, but then he regained control again, throwing the can into the nearest hedge. A pang of guilt stabbed at him as he did so, but then he reasoned, “You’ve won this battle anyway, Nature.”
The trailer was heavy and even lifting the tail-bar was an effort, but in attempt to make it easier on himself, he swung it around so that he could push it, rather than pull it, and this he found was much easier. Keeping to the intermittent white lines, he made his way back towards the Mitre Oak once again, making a game of keeping it straight. The cartons bounced and rattled, but the wheels of the trailer were pumped up and bounced like balloons, so there was little he could do about this noise. Each grating scrape was like a scratch on his eardrums that made him wince. He was confident he could deal with anything that was attracted to it, but it didn’t mean he was in the mood for a fight.
At one point a narrow country lane cut sharply from the main road, angling down and quickly bending around, creating a wall of blackness. Nate looked down this road and for the first time allowed the night chill to course down his spine.
At another point, he had to evade a large pothole that had never been repaired, and noticed that the rainwater within it was half-frozen. It crackled under his foot, its skin of ice only thin. Despite the cold, he had sweat on his brow.
The trailer rolled on with its low incessant grind. As he walked he scanned the distant shroud for anything that was moving, preferably something edible – his stomach was still demanding meat, his mouth salivating at the thought of it.
And then a shadow appeared, tall, approaching slowly from the horizon of his sight. Human-shaped. Nate stopped and dropped, using the front of the trailer as cover. He lowered it slowly until it met silently with the ground again and poked his head above the top. He sniffed, and laughed at himself for doing so – could even a dog detect anything from this distance? – and then just sat and watched as the shadow slowly defined itself; definitely human – two legs paced forward, quickly, clothing appearing to be dark, though how colour could reflect itself in this lack of light Nate did not know; hair long, hands armed with a dimly glinting cleaver.
Hadn’t he spotted a cleaver in the kitchen of the Mitre Oak? Standing, he squinted his eyes until Ruby emerged from the shadows and immediately seemed to understand. He walked around the trailer and towards her as she approached, looking around to ensure he felt safe.
“You fancied a walk or Sam turned,” he said when she was close enough to hear a whisper.
They met and stopped awkwardly for a moment, as though distant acquaintances meeting on a street and deciding whether to stop or talk, and then she replied “It’s Sam. He turned and tried to attack me.”
“Is he dead?” Then, “Are you okay?”
“No, and yes. I mean,” she let out a sigh and reached forward towards Nate, who replied by embracing her. “He’s not dead, I shut him one of the bedrooms, but it wasn’t locked so he’ll get out. The other door, the Private one, I locked, so he’s trapped at the top.” She gripped him tightly around the waist, smelling the fresh air in the fibres of his jumper, and an odd, musty scent that was faintly damp, and beneath that, him. “I couldn’t kill him, Nate. He was just a kid!”
Powerful, almost overwhelming, was the shampoo she had used on her hair, smelling like nothing natural, a compound mixture of chemicals Nate couldn’t recognise. “It’s okay, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed.”
“Either you kill him or we have to find somewhere else.”
Somewhere within that sentence Nate registered the ‘we’ and smiled despite the horror, or as a block to the horror of it. “I’ll kill it. It’s not Sam anymore. I’ll kill it and get rid of it. While the water still runs in that place, it’s our best place to rest up and we can’t give that up.”
Pushing at Nate, Ruby stood back and took a deep breath, “I just... couldn’t do it. I know it sounds stupid.”
“Don’t sound stupid. We should get back while we can.”
“Okay.”
Together, they rounded the trailer, and Nate pushed it onwards. “Poor Sam,” he said.
“He didn’t get bit though.”
“No, maybe from the claws, or the blood that was already on the claws. There was another one of those things when I was driving up, but they attacked each other. Probably got infected blood in him, one way or another.”
“So we die and die, or we get infected and we die and come back. Man, how did everything get so fucked up?”
“I wish I had the answer. Ain’t you cold?” he asked, looking at the rolled up sleeves of her jumper.
“Not that shit wasn’t fucked up before,” she said, rubbing her forearms. “No, not cold. Has to be freezing though, right? Are you cold?”
“No, and this is on a whole other scale of fucked up.”
“It was bad enough when terrorists started to target celebrities, ‘to cause the most wide-spread effect of sadness as possible,’ they said, ‘and to show that no-one could escape being a target.’” She shook her head, remembering the very latest sniper hit. “You need a hand?”
Nate shook his head. “I’m alright it’s not too heavy,” he replied, lifting it up in a show of strength. “And just when it looked like the wind was gone from their sail, this happens. I wonder at what point they started to suicide bomb themselves.”
“One way to ensure you don’t ‘rise.’”
They walked along in silence until they came to the next obstacle, the car in the road, and Nate had to manoeuvre around.
“What’s happened to us, Nate?” asked Ruby as she rounded the car on the other side.
The trailer groaned. “I don’t know.”
“Are we one of them? Only alive somehow?”
“I don’t think so. We’re not aggressive or anything.”
Heading back down the centre; “I’m hungry. Like, every now and then I just feel really hungry, and like I could eat anything.”
“Same. I’m craving meat right now. I even lay in wait earlier hoping to catch a rabbit or something.”
“I was wondering what was taking so long. I waited in front of the pub for like an hour for you, but you didn’t come back.”
“Yeah, I was envisaging a fire and a spit roast, a pig, crackling. Just doing that now is giving my belly right hell.”
“That sounds so good.”
They began the slow descent to the Mitre Oak, curving away to the left. “I may need some help here,” said Nate, “in case it gets away from me.”
“Here, I’ll grab this end, you grab the other,” and each with a back corner, they let the trailer roll slowly down the hill.
“Can you hear, smell, maybe even taste better than before?” asked Nate.
“I’m beginning to think so.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know.” They withheld the trailer with straight arms as it quickened up its pace.
“I just think... I can... do... things better than before. Run. Hear. Hold my breath maybe. See in the fucking dark for god’s sake – it’s pitch black – and it’s fucking freezing – apparently!”
“Sshh, you’ll wake the neighbours.”
“It’s not
funny.”
“You’re right, it’s not, but not bad, is it?” Ruby looked up at the clouds. “I don’t know why I can see so well either. Look, maybe the virus, or whatever it is, I mean, we must’ve got it, but it didn’t kill us. Maybe if you can survive it, it gives you ‘powers.’”
“Powers? We ain’t fucking X-Men.”
“Enhanced abilities. Fuck, I don’t know. You said it yourself. Look at the facts, eliminate all other possibilities, and what’s left is the truth. You got any snacks in this thing?”
“There’s some boxes of crisps.”
“Can we rest a second then?”
“Let’s get to the bottom first.”
“I feel like I’m gonna chuck I’m so hungry right now,” said Ruby. “But okay, let’s be quick. You know, we could just let it go.”
“And god knows how much noise that would make.”
“We could handle any shit, together.”
“We may need the trailer again.”
“We’re in whole fucking world of trailers,” said Ruby, using her arms to exemplify the world. The trailer lurched forward and started to roll ever quicker. Nate held control despite this, but let go anyway, and together they watched it roll like an impending bomb towards the roundabout, bouncing ever more as it picked up speed until it came to a crashing halt against the side of the island.
“Well that was stupid,” said Nate.
“You let go,” replied Ruby, running down to the scene of the accident, its carnage spilled over into the road. Sighing, Nate followed at a jog, keeping an eye on the surrounding hedges and a nearby grove of poplar trees.
“All good,” she said when Nate joined her, and jumped onto the island with a box of the crisps. Tearing it open, she upended the packets into her lap, then started eating them. “Sit down.”
“There’s something I should do first,” he said, looking up to the top-floor window.
“He’s not going anywhere.”
Easily swayed, both by hunger and lack of heart for stabbing small boys in the head, he sat down next to Ruby and picked up a packet of crisps. Their undersides drew the damp from the rain-sodden ground.
“They say,” started Ruby, “that you remember where you were when something major happens, like nine-eleven, the moon landings, all that shit. I was still really young for nine-eleven, well, you were too, but I was at play-school and I remember the headmaster coming into the room and getting Mrs Braim. I remember she was half trying to keep an eye on us, while hanging out the door. I guess when something really bad happens, the moment just sticks with you. Like when the Oscars was attacked and all those celebrities – just people really, like anyone, flesh and blood – all killed, and being woken up at six in the morning by my boyfriend to tell me the news. I’ll never forget his face as he turned the TV on, and both of us just staring at the screen as face after face after face scrolled across – all those people dead. Favourite celebrities. Like a dagger. Thousands can die in an attack, but unless you were directly affected, you weren’t directly affected, you know. And then suddenly it was people you knew. And now it’s everyone you knew. I was with some friends and Joe, my boyfriend, when we first saw what was happening. It was to be a nice night in with some wine and beers and a film or something. Then we turned on the news and there was panic everywhere. But it’s the news, right? Elsewhere. Even if it’s on your doorstep. Until it’s on your doorstep and bashing your door down, it’s not real.”
“What happened?”
“Ugh,” sighed Ruby, tipping the scraps of crisps into her mouth. “Joe, everyone, had to go and see what was going on. They got attacked, I managed to get in my room and hide in there. When I left, they were all gone, but there was just blood everywhere. Never saw ‘em again.”
“Basically the same for me. Only it was dad who died first. We buried him in the garden.”
“I don’t know if that would make it harder, you know, dealing with that.”
“In my experience, it’s better than the alternative, believe me.”
Ruby took Nate’s hand and squeezed it. “Sorry,” she said.
“We could bury your mum, if that’s what you wanted.” He thought of her body, hidden beneath the pile of clothes by the front entrance.
Releasing her grip; “I don’t want to go back there,” she said, and opened a fresh packet of crisps. “I don’t ever want to see that fucking place again.”
*****
“Would you rather,” stalled Nate, “be half your height or twice your weight?”
“You can always lose weight but you can’t get taller,” said Ruby, finishing the packet of crisps.
“For life, though. No changes.”
“At this point, twice my weight, least I’d’ve probably got something in my stomach.” Standing up, she said “Come on, we can’t sit here forever. If you deal with Sam, I’ll get this food inside.”
“It,” replied Nate, pushing himself up. “What time do you suppose it is?” He looked up to the blackness of the clouds, and settled his eyes on the top window.
“Middle of the night. Dark and light, that’s all that matters now,” said Ruby, lifting up a plastic-wrapped carton of tomato soup.
Nate followed suit, and together they crossed the road and entered the car park, where puddles of rain had now frozen, slippery enough to be avoided. Sighing, he said “I bet the anti-gun lot in America were glad there were guns when this happened to them. It would make everything so much easier right now.”
“Maybe, or maybe it’d put a distance between them and what was going on. Or maybe not, killing is killing.”
“We should add it to the list, to get one. No idea how to go about that though. Damn you, England!”
“Look at this way. If this was America, how do you think the fight with Wallace would’ve ended?” She dropped the carton in front of the entrance.
“Yeah, I know, it wouldn’t just be the good guys with guns.” Placing his carton on top of the other one, he said “I’ll do what’s needed, but then I’ll bring him down and put him in the basement, so you shouldn’t come in yet unless you don’t mind seeing.”
“That’s not the problem – it’s the doing.”
“Okay then,” he pushed at the door. “Down in a bit.”
Through the entrance and towards the stairs on the right, through a darkness-that-was-not-dark, that even, now, seemed... effervescent – glowy – Nate ascended, step-by-step, the staircase floorboards creaking with each footfall. He heard thuds from above, either stomping as it railed from one end of the living to the other, or thumping as it tried to knock down the door marked ‘Private.’ An ashy, burned smell, hung in the air, an undercurrent he had also noticed on Ruby, but could not place. Evidently, something had burned, something more than just a candle.
On the next flight of stairs, his creaking steps alerted the old-Sam to his presence, and though he was just a small ‘boy’ in stature, the power that seemed to be exhausted on the other side of the door was relentless. “Geez,” said Nate, as it screeched – so loud Nate imagined the door flying off its hinges from the vocal force of it – and rested his hand on the door handle. He pulled out his knife with the other. He turned the key in the lock, and immediately the door handle came down and the door was flung forward. If Nate had not stepped back, it would’ve smashed against him. Instead, it was Sam – it – that smashed against him, landing on his torso like an animal, fingers digging in. An elbow prevented its face from getting close enough to bite him, and a swing from Nate sent it crashing against the wall, but it clung on. He swung again, and again, but he could feel that its muscles were locked – only a lubrication of kind would dislodge it. He turned so he was facing down the stairs, and jumped, headfirst, so that he landed on top of it. He heard small bones crack and felt a gust of foul-smelling air expel from its lungs as they were crushed, and it was momentarily weakened. He freed his knife-wielding arm and lunged it in, just above the ear.
Rolling off, he jumped quickly to his fe
et and placed a boot on the thing’s chest, but it was still. Its face was a contortion of a scream, as it had been wildly trying to bite him. It looked nothing like Sam – no, nothing like him, Sam was gone and had been replaced by this monster – and now it was dead. He lifted the body.
“You okay?” shouted Ruby from the bottom of the next set of stairs.
“Yeah. It’s dead.” He carried it downstairs, and while Ruby was still busy bringing the food inside, he carried it down to the basement. He also held his breath, entered the walk-in refrigerator, lifted the skeleton of a monster – as light as paper – and carried it down too. Upon returning to the bar, and closing the door behind him, he breathed again.
“I guess we got the place to ourselves again,” said Nate, as he helped to bring the final cartons of food in. He felt an arrhythmic beat in his chest that was momentarily more unnerving than even the previous event, and changed the subject when Ruby looked up at him. “So, it’s probably late enough to sleep, but I don’t know if I could sleep without something to eat.”
“We could crack a few of these open. I’ve just had enough of cold food so much.”
“Even Neanderthals could create fire, right? And we got matches and lighters, should be able to figure something out.”
“Did you see a camping stove on your travels?” The last of the cartons inside, she closed the entrance and inserted the deadbolts.
“I went to get one from Wigley’s, that’s why I was there originally, but they didn’t have any. Not come across one. Let’s check the kitchen again though.” Then remembering; “I do have a blow torch in my go-bag, for emergencies.”
“Cool.” In the kitchen, Ruby sniffed and said “Urgh, what the fuck is that smell?”
“Harry the manager. I took him out the fridge and put him downstairs with the other one.”
“Fuck me – is it closed?”
“Yep. If you take a couple deep breaths, I don’t know, I think you either get used to it, or you control it, like it doesn’t smell so bad.” Nate opened up some of the cupboards and began rummaging.
“Okay,” replied Ruby, taking the advice. She began checking the other end of the kitchen.
The Risen (Book 1): The Risen, Part 1 Page 9
