Mortal Skies: A Post Apocalyptic Sci Fi Horror Novel

by Rebecca Fernfield

  “No-” Nate stops. “Actually, yes. We should do that.”

  “We should take him to hospital.”

  “I’m going to, but Justin is right. If we mark it, we can measure it to see how fast it’s spreading.”

  “Or getting smaller?” Justin adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Nate leans over Josh and parts his eyelids. The pupils remain black, contracting quickly in response to the light, the irises still a bright blue. No brain damage, no evidence of the ‘infection’ that was troubling the woman that had attacked the schoolkids.

  Outside a shriek pierces the air, and a deeper, longer shriek responds.

  Twenty

  Nate dips the flannel into the bowl of warm water then wrings it out. A stroke of the flannel across Josh’s shoulder makes the black patch stand out in relief then pulse. Fear chews at his belly, but he notes that the patch hasn’t grown beyond the lines he’d drawn in pen at each side. To the left, it is perhaps smaller—please let it be smaller! Katy’s footsteps pad up the stairs. She calls before she reaches the landing.

  “Nate!” Her voice is an urgent whisper. “Look out of the window—in the garden.”

  An instinctive dread grips him; is she back! Dropping the flannel into the bowl, he leans across the bed to peer into the garden. Clustered in the small space, trampling on summer flowers and clipped box hedging, are three men, two women and a child that can be no more than ten years old. One of the women is her.

  “Hell!”

  Katy steps next to the bed, glances to the garden with a grimace, then places a palm across Josh’s forehead. “He’s warmer at least.”

  Katy’s words unnoticed, Nate stares at the group; they stand close, rigid as they stare at the living room window. “The curtains still drawn?”

  “Yes, thank God!”

  Nate huffs. His belief in an almighty power genially looking over them is long gone. If there is a God, he’s taking the piss, and has been doing for years.

  The creatures – he can’t think of them as human – seem to be muttering though not interacting. The squat woman at the front, the one that had terrorised the schoolkids, is in a state of undress and bloody dishevelment that is painful to see. Her t-shirt has broad yellow stains darkening to brown beneath her armpits, blood has bloomed and darkened on the white fabric obscuring the print. A deep gouge is slashed across her upper arm and the sleeve ripped. Her belly hangs over the low-riding waistband of a pair of dirty-grey sweatpants that stretch tight over her thighs and buttocks. These too are stained with large patches of darkened blood, the knees brown with streaks of black where at some point she has knelt in mud and perhaps even oil. Her skin is sallow, the lips black, eyes like a blind dog’s apart from the red at their centre. Melanie’s belly had sagged after the birth of their son, much to her horror, but her ‘repulsive mother’s apron’ as she called the hanging roll of stretch-marked flesh had quickly retreated, almost disappearing over the years and her dedication to abdominal crunches. Nate had loved her anyway, the marks on her skin proof of their love, and her sacrifice for their child. The rolling, sagging belly of this woman, however, was repulsive, stretch-marked and hanging to the top of her legs, the t-shirt torn to her belly button. Her feet are bare, the toes bloodied. In her hand she holds a knife.

  The others are also dishevelled, covered in blood and mud, and oblivious to their own injuries. All have the red eyes, opaque irises, and black lips of the squat woman. He turns his attention to the child. It stands to the side, black hair curled tight to its head, a kitchen knife gripped in its hand. Like the others, an insane grimace seems frozen to its face, the dinosaur printed onto his t-shirt up-graded to ‘parental advisory’ with its spatters of drying blood now dripping from huge fangs.

  “They’re armed! What the hell are they doing?”

  “I think they’re waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Us.”

  A strangled mewl and Katy grips Nates upper arm. “What’s going on, Nate? What the hell is going on?”

  He lays an arm across her shoulder, “I don’t know.”

  “But why are they waiting there? In my garden?” Her voice rises in pitch, edging towards hysteria.

  Nate gives her shoulder a firm hug. “Stay calm, Katy. Remember, Justin needs you.”

  “But-”

  “They’ll get bored and leave. Perhaps they’re high on something? It’ll wear off and then they’ll go away.”

  She relaxes a fraction. “Yes … You’re right. They’ll need to eat, so when they’re hungry …”

  “They’ll leave.” He injects his words with a certainty he doesn’t feel.

  A low chuntering rises through the open window and beyond the garden, whilst deeper in the city multiple sirens blare. Nate pulls the window closed to the distinctive tat-tat-tat of a gun firing. It always surprised him how unlike the movies the noise of gunfire was. In real-life it seemed hollow. The woman notices his movement at the window, throws her head back, and emits a sphincter-contracting shriek.

  Thud! Thud! Thud!

  Katy squeals, cowers back into the room, hands cupping her eyes as the woman bangs at the living room window. “Jesus! Oh, Jesus! She’s trying to get in!”

  Josh groans, his eyelids flicker. Katy continues to mumble, her panic rising. Nate’s patience crumbles as Josh opens his eyes. “Katy! Get a grip.” For a second, the boy’s eyes appear red and Nate steps away with a jerk from his bedside. Their eyes lock and Nate sags with relief as he realises that they’re merely bloodshot, still clear, bright blue, no hint of the ugly dullness of the monsters outside.

  “Dad?”

  Nate checks the boy’s shoulder. The black patch is smaller, at least a centimetre less in diameter than when he’d drawn the lines beside it. The tension across Nate’s chest eases a little. The thudding vibrates on the living room window.

  “What are you doing?” Josh’s voice carries the familiar tone of a querulous teenager.

  “You’ve been unwell.” Nate replies with relief. He’s narked. Narked is good! “We couldn’t wake you this morning.”

  “I’ve got a banging headache.” He sits, and pushes fingers through lank hair. “The dreams-” He stops, seems confused. “The dreams … they were so real, but … but that’s impossible … the woman, she chased me-”

  The tension returns. “What happened last night, Josh? Katy told me that you went out. When you came back you were in a state, couldn’t speak, and just came up here.”

  A shriek erupts from the cluster of ‘things’ in the garden. Startled, Josh throws the duvet aside and clambers out of bed, staggers as his legs give way, then jumps to the middle of the room. “What the hell was that?” His eyes stare wildly.

  “Josh-”

  Another scream and Josh’s eyes widen further. He jabs at the window, leaps back across the room, climbs onto the bed and stares down into the garden. A cacophony of screams erupts, and the vibrations of fists thudding against the downstairs window make the glass in the bedroom window rattle.

  “Josh! Get back from the window.”

  “It’s her!”

  Pain returns to Nate’s chest. “The woman with the grey sweatpants?” He already knows the answer.

  “Yes, the … the fat one. She chased me from the tower block last night.” With wild eyes he jumps from the bed. “I thought it was just a nightmare. It can’t be real!” The cacophony continues. “I went to see where the meteor landed.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone out!” Nate can’t keep the anger from his voice.

  Josh ignores him. “There were two. One clipped a tower block, and the other smashed into it. It was like the twin towers—there was rubble everywhere, people covered in ash and blood-”

  “What about the woman? Why did she follow you?”

  Josh, suddenly aware that he’s standing in the middle of the room, being stared at by three people with only his underpants on, grabs for his jeans. He continues his story as he thrusts fee
t into trouser legs. “There was this crater, and smoke came up out of it. People were staring down at it and then the smoke kind of wrapped around them. That’s when they started acting weird.”

  “Weird?”

  “Yeah. When the smoke got them, they changed. They all stood still for a few minutes, went quiet – everyone else was running around like headless chickens – the police and firemen were there, ambulances trying to help the injured – but this lot, they just stood groaning and swaying and then …” He stalls, his eyes glazing over.

  “And?”

  “And then they started attacking everyone—even the kids. This one bloke … he just grabbed hold of this paramedic who was leaning over this woman, trying to help her, and the bloke … he just grabbed his head and twisted.”

  “Gross!”

  “Josh! Perhaps you can tell us somewhere else. Justin is too young to-”

  “Sorry!”

  “No! I want to hear.”

  Josh looks to Nate for permission.

  “Katy, perhaps Justin can go back to his room?”

  “No! No way. I want to hear.”

  “Justin, I think Josh’s story is a little too grown up-”

  “I may be a kid, but I can take it. I’ve watched horror films before.”

  “Have you?”

  “Don’t hide the truth from me. I’m nearly ten!”

  “Well-”

  “Perhaps he does need to know what … we’re up against.”

  Katy is silent for a moment then nods. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Yes!”

  “Go on, Josh. What happened then?”

  “The whole place broke out into fighting. It was carnage. The police, the firemen, all got involved, but when the smoke got to them too, they started attacking. It came up my leg-”

  A sharp intake of breath and Katy steps back.

  “But I got out of there. I must have got away from it, because I’m all right now. I’m not like them …” He glances at Katy, frowns, then turns to Nate. “Am I, Dad?”

  “No, you’re not, but you were sick and there’s something on your shoulder.”

  A flash of fright and Josh looks down at his shoulder then wipes at the black patch.

  “It’s getting smaller,” Nate placates as Josh continues to brush at his skin.

  “If the smoke sent the others … demented but it just made Josh sick, then perhaps he’s immune?”

  Josh reaches for the t-shirt unpacked by Katy and folded neatly on the bedroom chair.

  “That is, if that’s what’s making them behave like this.”

  “Like zombies!” Justin pipes up.

  “It could be a leaked chemical.”

  “From outer space?”

  “More likely a chemical attack by a foreign enemy.”

  “What enemies? We’re in England. Who would do that to us?”

  The last thing Nate wants is to start delving into politics with Katy. “I don’t know. It just makes more sense than it being from outer space.”

  “But the meteors … they are from outer space, and Josh said that the smoke came from the crater.”

  “Yes, but that’s just what they told us,” Josh replies. “The government don’t want us knowing half of what goes on.”

  “Sure, but why lie?”

  “To stop mass panic. If people knew that we were going to be attacked, there would be riots-”

  “There already are.”

  “What about the woman?” Katy asks. “How come she’s outside?”

  “She followed me. I tried to get away, but she was too fast.”

  “What? That fat thing?”

  “She’s fat, but she can run.”

  The thudding continues downstairs and another piercing shriek breaks through the conversation.

  “Nate, what if they break in?”

  He locks eyes with Katy as he processes her words. The people outside aren’t showing any sign of disappearing. The windows and doors at the front are strong and double glazed, but the ones at the back aren’t. Thumping on them would be disastrous, and making them secure is probably impossible; Katy’s long back garden only has a small shed containing a single bicycle and a few garden tools, the most dangerous of which is the garden fork he’d speared the woman with. “We’ll have to leave.”

  He leans into the window to take a final look. Another male has joined the group, but the fat woman has disappeared. As he pulls away, a gate at the back of the terrace clacks shut.

  Twenty-One

  Nate runs down the stairs, leaping over the last five to the hallway. Dust eddies in irritation as he lands. The front door rattles in its frame, and, from the front room, a new sound joins the thuds as something hard smashes against the windows. The creatures had gone into overdrive since Josh had woken. The cacophony of shrieks had quieted, only to be replaced with a more insistent thudding. Worse, two other males had joined the original group, both wearing the same insane grimace and blood-soiled clothing. These however, were tooled-up. One, dark beard straggling to his naked but hair-covered chest, holds a machete. The other, dressed from head to foot in black, with ‘POLICE’ printed across his protective vest, grips a long and very ominous-looking, black baton.

  “Just grab a few bits and put them in the bag!” Nate calls after Katy in exasperation. He had insisted they evacuate immediately but, despite his best efforts, she had been determined to pack a rucksack. She runs back along the corridor for the third time, remembering yet another item she had to have. “Stay there, Justin,” he calls as the boy reappears from his room, rucksack on his back. Animated by fear, Josh runs into the hallway from the kitchen.

  “There’s three of them at the back, Dad.” As he speaks, the shattering of glass erupts from the kitchen. Josh falters, swivelling to look back. Nate grabs his arm, yanks him forward. “Get upstairs! Go!”

  The creatures’ low chuntering ebbs below the noise of glass being shattered. Another shriek. They’re demented. Fucking demented! As more glass breaks, and wood splinters, Nate reaches the door beneath the stairs. Getting the stepladders, that Katy reassures him are stored there, is their only hope. There is no escape through the front or the back, so the only way is up to the loft, where they can hide until the creatures lose interest and disappear—that, at least, is the plan. Breaking out through the roof will be the only other option.

  The back door slams open. Nate’s heart thuds with sickening pain against his sternum; in the narrow hallway there are only feet between him and the door from the dining room that leads to the kitchen. They will be at the centre of the house within seconds! He slams the door open. The cavity inside is dark, but there’s enough light to see the stepladders propped up against the wall, half hidden behind Katy’s overcoat. He yanks at the metal frame, pulling Katy’s coat off its hook. The ladder’s feet catch against tins of paint and other paraphernalia stored in the ‘glory hole’ as Katy calls the untidy space. Upstairs a loud tap knocks against the loft hatch as Josh forces it to open. Good lad!

  In the kitchen, clattering feet, shrieks, and the chattering of a demented excitement, grows louder. The scraping of metal overhead is followed by a thump. As he pulls the stepladders from the cupboard, he uncovers a set of weights, presumably belonging to Katy’s muscle-bound ex. Feet clatter across the tiles in the dining room. Nate grabs the heaviest weights first, the muscles in his back giving a sharp twinge as be pulls. He throws them against the door, grateful, for the first time, for the narrowness of the body-blocking hallway.

  “Dad!” Josh’s shout is urgent. Excited chuntering fills the hallway as the dining room door is flung open and smashes against the wall.

  “Dad!” Josh shouts as Nate pulls tins of paint, weights, and bags out of the cupboard and pushes them against the door, stuffing Katy’s coat beneath the gap.

  “Come and get the ladder!” Nate screams. If he leaves now, there’s no way Josh, Katy, and Justin can get into the loft in time; those monsters will break through his pathetic def
ence within seconds. The front door shakes, its double-glazed panels crack. Back and front are now under attack! “Get the ladder! Get the others into the loft.”

  Josh clatters down the stairs “No, Dad! There are steps in the loft!”

  The cupboard door bangs against Nate as one of them slams against it. The weights slide against the tiled floor. “What!”

  “Come on, Dad. Quick!”

  As the panels in the front door crunch under another assault, and the cupboard door bangs against his shoulder, Nate turns, grabs the stepladders, and wedges their legs firmly between the floor and the bottom of the door. The front door’s glazed panel breaks. The noise of glass breaking fills the front room too as the monsters attack that window. Wood splits as a body crashes against the cupboard door.

  “Dad! Run!”

  “Go, son! Go!”

  Nate leaps to the bottom of the stairs, grabs the bannister and swings himself to the third riser. As he reaches midway, the hinges on the door give way. Josh stares at him from halfway up the ladder hanging down from the loft. “Get up!” Josh disappears into the dark space. Behind Nate, screeching fills the hallway as the door is trampled to the floor and the creatures run to the bottom of the stairs. He takes the first rungs of the ladder in one step. With each step, the creatures gain. As he pulls himself into the loft, pushing at the heavy storage containers in his way, the first creature is on the landing.

  “Pull it up!” Katy screams, grabbing the belt of his jeans.

  Nate turns to the light, his legs dangling over the opening. As he draws his legs up, and the ladder rises, the creature reaches out and grabs the first rung.

  “Pull!”

  Josh groans as he heaves at the sudden weight. The creature’s feet leave the ground. Nate pulls at the storage container beside him. It’s heavier than he expected. His back twinges again as he pulls the heavy weight at an awkward angle. He shunts it to the opening and pushes. The lid flips off, uncovering a box filled with magazines; pages of jutting breasts, proffered posteriors, and wide-spread legs flap and tumble as the box leaves his hands, sliding down the rungs with speed, knocking the creature’s head with a thump. Its grip loosens then breaks, and the steps slide up in one snapping movement. The space becomes black. The hatch drops an inch, leaking in light.