Jackson Kidd | Book 2 | Evolving

by West, Mark

  ‘You send your minions to do your dirty work, like you did with my friends.’

  I can see my comment irritates the woman. It’s the best I can think of in my state of mind. The two Infected step towards me and I yell at them.

  ‘Get lost!’

  They pause. The woman scowls in disapproval and points to me. But they don’t move. They are listening to me and me only.

  Before I have time to say another word the woman comes for me, her single good arm raised and angry. Lincoln and the girl stay still, watching. I charge also.

  I slam into the woman with my shoulder, sending her stumbling back and tumbling to the ground. I show no mercy and lunge for her with my knife. But I’m too slow and she swipes my arm away and catches me in the chest. I fall to one side and drop the knife.

  I begin heaving in mouthfuls of air as I get to my knees, chest thumping and in pain. I’m sure one of my ribs is broken, but I have no time to assess it. I look up from my crouched position to see the woman getting to her feet. She splays the dagger-like fingers on her raised arm. She is pissed off and wants my blood.

  I pull free my orange Gerber, showing off the curved blade.

  ‘You want this, don’t you?’ I taunt, egging her on.

  I turn to Lincoln. ‘This was once yours. Remember?’

  For a moment I think Lincoln moves his lips.

  The woman continues to slowly advance, licking her lips, smearing blood across them with her slimy tongue and giving herself a joker smile. I get to my feet, hunched over from the fire in my ribs, and glance about. My car is unattended and a few of the Infected have left, breaking apart the circle. More Infected have joined the fight against the Mutations, who still seem to be emerging from buildings. It’s like a small war and I’m right in the middle of it. Yet my fight is almost over.

  I duck a swiping arm, fuelled with revenge, as the woman comes for me again. I stab her in the stomach, drawing the knife upwards until it hits her ribcage and slips out, spilling organs onto the ground. The woman slams my back with an elbow, and I crumple to my knees. I turn my head to see her claws slicing towards me. I duck, and I feel them nick my ear.

  I do a quick side roll and get back on my feet, gasping for air. The woman comes again, trailing intestines. I do my best to avoid another cut, but I’m too slow and feel my shoulder open up. I wince, and thrash my knife towards her face and connect.

  The woman staggers back with my knife lodged in her face – a hideous piercing. She fumbles for the handle, clutches it and pulls the knife free. She looks at it and tosses it aside.

  I draw my last weapon, Fang, and grip the rubber handle. There’s blood in my mouth. I spit it out between my swollen lips. It’s black, pure black. There’s not a hint of red.

  I’m officially an Infected.

  Chapter 69

  The girl

  Amy leaves the hall with a smile on her face. Her stomach is full of nutritious food for the first time in months. All things considered, it’s been a good morning. She has met most of the people in the complex, and so far everyone seems friendly and welcoming. She could get used to living there.

  As she walks back to her new home with Isabelle in her arms, she looks about at the houses, with their manicured lawns and gardens, all tucked in against one another. The place is unspoiled and must look much like it had before the infection – normal.

  Perhaps I will stay.

  By the time she gets back, Isabelle is fast asleep. The front door is ajar. She is not one to be so careless, yet it’s possible she had forgotten to close it; Isabelle is proving to be a handful at times. She reaches for her gun, freshly stocked with bullets thanks to Cameron.

  ‘Hello?’

  Amy nudges the door open and peaks inside. A girl is standing in the middle of the room facing the other way.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asks cautiously, checking it’s just the girl and no one else.

  The girl turns on her heels. The first thing Amy notices is her ragged, blood-stained clothes. She peers around the room again, wondering where the girl has come from.

  ‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ the girl says weakly. ‘I was told to come here.’

  Amy frowns. ‘Told?’

  ‘Yeah. Raymond, I think his name was.’

  Amy recalls the name, but she hasn’t met the man, only his lovely wife, Margaret, a rather plump woman with a deep laugh.

  ‘Okay.’ Amy looks around again. ‘Do you live here? Was this your house?’

  The girl shakes her head.

  ‘No,’ she says in a whisper, then takes a step towards Amy and looks down at Isabelle. ‘Beautiful baby. What’s it called?’

  Amy shields Isabelle with her arm. ‘This is Isabelle.’

  ‘Is she yours?’

  Amy shakes her head. ‘No. Jackson’s.’

  ‘Jackson?’ The girl repeats, as if pondering the name. ‘I’ve met him.’

  ‘You have?’ Amy eyes her suspiciously. ‘Where? Here?’

  ‘Yes. He found me by his car and told me to go with Raymond.’

  ‘And where is Raymond now?’

  The girl shrugs. There is a knock at the door and Cameron steps into the room. He looks at the girl and frowns.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Raymond sent her here.’ Amy answers, giving him an uncertain look.

  The girl smiles. ‘He said you could help me.’

  Cameron chuckles, relaxing his shoulders. ‘Well, did he now?’ He chuckles again. The sound is warm and friendly. ‘Of course, we can. In fact, I was trying to find Raymond. He indicates to the door. ‘Come with me. I’ll take you to Meg, my wife, and get you cleaned up. You’re a mess, and I can smell you from here.’ His cheeks ripple as he chuckles again.

  The girl looks at Amy, expectantly. ‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘You can trust him.’

  The girl walks to the door and stops and looks back. ‘I’m Eden.’ She smiles at Amy, then turns and follows Cameron out.

  Amy goes to the door and watches the pair walking away. Isabelle jerks in her arms. Her body goes loose again and her arms and legs start kicking wildly. She wriggles around and Amy has to place her down on the floor.

  ‘What’s with you?’

  Isabelle rolls about on the ground, giggling, as if nothing has happened. Eventually, she rolls onto her front and starts rocking backwards and forwards on her hands and knees until she takes a few tentative movements and collapses on the floor.

  ‘Oh my God! You’re crawling!’

  Amy watches in wonder as Isabelle pulls herself up again and moves across the timber boards towards the front door. She doesn’t get very far before she collapses again. This time Isabelle kicks madly and begins to cry.

  ‘Oh, sweetie,’ Amy says, picking her up. She rubs at Isabelle’s knee. ‘You cut yourself.’

  Amy’s body goes stiff. She looks at the floor and then back at Isabelle. Her throat constricts. She stumbles back and sits in a chair, giddy and light-headed. Isabelle is whimpering in her arms.

  Amy looks at her closely. She’s starting to look like Victoria, but with Jackson’s eyes. Those eyes, green with a tinge of …

  Isabelle gives Amy an innocent smile. But Amy isn’t smiling. She has just connected the dots. It all makes sense now. She looks at the wound again.

  ‘Oh, Jackson. What have you done?’

  Chapter 70

  The confrontation

  The woman glares at me, waiting. I use every ounce of my strength to stand and run at her.

  Our bodies clash and I feel a stabbing pain in my chest. Her claws are embedded between my ribs. I howl in agony and lash out, stabbing my knife into her ribcage in retaliation. I twist the blade and feel the bones begin to separate.

  The woman moans and bites down on my forearm. I feel her teeth piercing the skin. The pain is excruciating.

  ‘No!’ I scream.

  Blood and sweat are streaming down my face. I wipe my eyes, desperate to see. I have barely enough time to wrench my
knife from her ribcage when she swipes me again. I land on my hands and knees.

  The woman advances one slow step at a time. She is relentless. I can hear the whistle from her chest and see the entrails hanging from her stomach. But if she is in pain, she shows nothing. But I feel pain, and I don’t know how much longer I can survive.

  I stagger to my feet, but I’m swatted down. I slam into the ground, harder this time, hitting my head on the concrete. I look down in a daze. Fang is still in my hand, wet with blood. I try to draw it forward, but it feels as if my arm doesn’t work anymore. It’s like the knife suddenly weighs a hundred kilograms.

  I will my body to move, because the woman is less than a step away. She raises her arm for a final takedown. All five digits are splayed for maximum damage. My mind is screaming: Get up, Jackson!

  I lunge with a sudden rush of adrenalin, aiming Fang at the woman’s eye. I connect, sinking it deep into the socket with a shaking arm. She goes down and I fall to my knees, exhausted.

  There is an eruption of screeching. The child is now kneeling by the woman, her mouth emitting the horrific noise. Lincoln seems torn between watching her and attacking me. The circle of Infected are blank-faced and still. Everyone seems unsure of what to do.

  I push myself up off the ground and stand on wobbly legs. The car is still unattended. I begin shuffling my way towards it, but there is a grunt behind me. I turn to see Lincoln only metres away.

  ‘Lincoln.’ My breathing is ragged and I’m clutching my ribs. ‘You can come with me.’ I take a few steps backwards, unsure about what he is going to do. ‘You are not one of them.’

  I reach the Range Rover and move cautiously to the driver’s side. Lincoln watches my every move. I can see the fight in his eyes. He is tossing up between killing me and coming.

  ‘Please. Amy is waiting for you.’

  His expression falters. A distant memory has bubbled to the surface. The child is getting to its feet. It stares at me with as much hatred as the woman. I can tell they were related.

  ‘Lincoln are you coming?’

  His eyes are closed and his mouth is twitching. The child grunts and moans. Lincoln immediately opens his eyes. He stares at me for a moment, contemplating, before turning and walking over to her.

  ‘Lincoln no!’ I shout, coughing up blood.

  I get inside the car and shut the door. I’m feeling woozy from the pain. A few of the Infected begin to close in around me. Others stand back – watching.

  I start the car, knowing I have won the fight but lost the battle. My friend is still chained to a higher-ranking officer. I have no more energy to fight and hit the accelerator with a heavy foot, turning the wheel with bloodied hands. It won’t be the last time I see their faces, I can guarantee that.

  Chapter 71

  The Vision

  I speed towards the construction site, knowing the mansion house has been compromised. I have lost a lot of blood and my vision is fading – the road ahead hazy and indistinct. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on before I pass out. Just the thought of finding Victoria wills me to keep going. I know she will be there if she has come back.

  I see the wire fence of the construction site up ahead and accelerate for the gate, ignoring the wandering Infected at the side of the road. My arm feels like it’s on fire and it’s still bleeding. It worries me. Who knows how I’m going to stop the blood, let alone fix the damage.

  I pull into the car park and slam on the brake, coming to a skidding halt. I manage to get the door open and tumble out onto the dirt, stirring up dust that sticks to my damp, ravaged body. I cough, spitting out more blood and struggle to get to my feet: my legs heavy, and every movement aggravating my broken rib.

  I peer around, trying to take in my blurry surroundings. Everything is swimming in and out of focus. It makes me feel nauseous and I collapse to my knees and vomit. I try to stand, but darkness sweeps over me like a fog and I roll onto my back, closing my eyes. I hear movement, feet. I try to roll onto my side to see who is approaching, but I feel chained to the ground.

  The person is speaking, but the sound is muffled, distant. My ears are ringing and my head is pounding. If it’s an Infected, they will be devouring me any moment. I have no weapon and I have no fight. All I can do is lay there and die.

  Swirling images fill my thoughts. Everyone I know passes in front of me in a kaleidoscope of colour and movement: Victoria, Isabelle, Amy, Lincoln and my other friends from the Block. I see my family: my mother, father and, of course, my sister, all smiling, clapping, cheering in delight. The sun is shining and everything is bright and clear.

  But then the sky fills unexpectedly with dark, ominous clouds. My family is gone, my friends too. I’m left standing alone on a barren hill without a tree in sight. The place is unfamiliar. I am lost.

  I look across from the hill to see a vast shadow approaching in the distance. The clouds descend; they are thick and angry. I feel a chill run across my skin.

  Someone is yelling at me, their words muffled and distorted. I try to concentrate on what they are saying, but they are drowned out by loud screaming. I wish it would stop so I can hear what they are trying to say. I try to speak, but I find my mouth is already moving. I’m the one screaming.

  The clouds burst open and rain lashes me. Rivers of water run down the hill. Lightning rends the sky and the air fills with the rumble of thunder. I look out to try and see the approaching shadow, but it’s too dark; the sun is obscured.

  A flash lights up the sky and illuminates the landscape. I glimpse a sea of movement. It’s bigger than I could have imagined – there are hundreds upon hundreds. Another bolt of lightning confirms my fears; Infected are climbing the hill towards me. I pat my side, praying for a knife. But I’m naked – defenceless.

  A chorus of moans breaks through the thunder. It’s coming from behind me. Darkness shrouds the hill, concealing everything. I wait for the next flash of lighting. When it comes, the vision numbs my body. Mutations are approaching – hundreds, if not thousands. There is nowhere to escape. I’m trapped.

  The armies are fast approaching. I stand on the hill, lashed by pouring rain – naked, vulnerable. The wild weather intensifies, yet their angry cries drown out the sound of booming thunder and driving rain. I accept I am about to die and close my eyes.

  The noise builds and builds: thunder, moaning, shrieks and angry cries, thousands of marching feet dragging through rivers of mud. I’m shaking all over, eager for death but fearing pain.

  The clamour of battle breaks out around me. I open my eyes and watch the armies clash in a brutal war. Limbs are torn off, heads crushed, bodies ripped apart. Black blood rains down and stains the ground. I am encircled by Mutated and Infected fighting to the death. But in the unfolding carnage I am ignored.

  I begin to climb the bodies piling up around me. I am no longer shaking from the fear of death, or from the icy wind and driving rain, or from the destruction unfolding around me; I am shaking for one reason alone – I know what this is.

  I climb … and climb … and climb. Limbs and open wounds are my footholds. The hill is slick with blood and slippery sinew. I fear I’ll never reach the top. But reach my goal with one last push of exhausted legs. I fall to my knees as the rain stops and the clouds part, allowing bright sunshine to fill the sky. I suck in the air and smell nothing but the freshness of rain.

  I look around and see the battle is over. The Mutated and Infected that are left are silently watching, their slimy faces covered in gore. I am no longer invisible.

  ‘Come back!’

  The yell comes from far away; the voice familiar. I begin to raise my arms but don’t know why. I take one last look around and close my eyes.

  Something is shaking my body – or eating it, I can’t tell anymore. Each movement adds to the pain in my ribs and forces gravel into my back. I open my eyes and try to focus on the figure leaning over me.

  ‘Jackson!’ the figure screams.

  I blink, trying t
o clear my blurred vision and identify the figure fading in and out of focus above me.

  ‘Victoria?’

  My words sound slurred, my voice no longer my own. The mist clears from my eyes and I see the worry in Victoria’s face, the tears in her eyes. I try to lift my arm to wipe them away, but it doesn’t move.

  ‘I found you,’ I say, and she smiles.

  Epilogue

  Lincoln is standing on a hill, gazing out towards the centre of Brisbane, taking in the magnitude of the city with a cold, stern expression. Behind him a cluster of Infected watch, immobile, and wait for their orders. Koda is beside him, scarred but alive.

  Lincoln’s hand twitches and moves to his pocket. He brings out a long, curved knife and holds it up to the light. He turns it in his hand, examining the sharp blade and orange handle that is covered in greasy, black blood. Koda barks, drawing his attention – someone is coming.

  The knife is swiftly hidden. The small figure walks up beside him. Lincoln acknowledges the child with a curt nod before his attention goes back to the view. He can sense him out there, is drawn to his presence, yet he feels accountable to the little one beside him.

  The child looks up at Lincoln, emotionless, then looks down at the city below. She raises an arm and points to the far-off buildings.

  ‘Find him.’

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