Mortal Skies: A Post Apocalyptic Sci Fi Horror Novel

by Rebecca Fernfield

  Tabitha, Toby’s teenage daughter, another robust and imposing redhead, eyes Nate then Ellie from the opposite side of the room, and repeats her last statement. “We should wait.” Green eyes, bright and direct, scan each of them as she speaks.

  “Tab, I’m not sure that’s the best option.”

  “Well,” she counters. “We don’t know who is infected, so we should wait … to see if any of them … turn.”

  “What if it’s you that ‘turns’?” Ellie counters. “How do we know that you’re not the ones that have been infected?”

  Tabitha stares directly at Ellie. “I guess we don’t. Which is why it’s safer to wait.” She steps away from her father to the coffee machine in the corner of the room, pulls a squat mug from the stack and slots it beneath the dispenser.

  Nate can’t help but admire her laid-back style and confidence, though her lack of urgency is frustrating. “They could drop their poison across the city at any moment. We need to leave.”

  The machine hums into action as Tabitha presses the button for coffee.

  “She’s just being paranoid. None of us are sick,” Ellie adds.

  The coffee machine fills the silence.

  Toby takes the coffee offered by his daughter. “She’s being realistic.”

  “Yes, but the greater danger lies in staying.” Nate’s frustration rises despite finding the pair surprisingly likeable. He knows they’re right about the infection; a shudder creeps down his back as he quickly assesses each face in the small room. He can see no sign of infection. His need to leave the city is stronger than his fear of any of them turning. “Ellie’s right. None of us are sick.”

  “That we know of,” Tabitha counters.

  Tension rises as furtive glances and scans are exchanged.

  “What do you suggest?” Ellie’s face is pinched and white, her anxiety obvious in her irritation. “That we tie each other up and then watch if one of us becomes a blood-thirsty monster?”

  “Well-”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “I’m just saying that-”

  “Calm it, all of you!” Toby steps forward. “How many of us here have been in close proximity to … one of them?”

  Nate, Ellie, Mimi, Tina, and Todd raise their hands.

  “Josh, too. He’s been the closest.” Nate adds with a glance at the stretcher parked just outside the room where Josh lays unconscious.

  “Me and Mimi, we were on a plane full of them.”

  “The meteorite hit the apartment block next to mine,” Tina adds.

  “Ground zero then.”

  “Yes, and we’ve – me, Mimi, and Todd - been parked up there for the past couple of days.”

  “Tim and Cathy?” Toby asks.

  “We rescued Nate from one. We went to ground zero.”

  “Doesn’t mean we’ve had close contact with the bug, chemical, or whatever it is that’s doing this though,” Tim posits.

  “So, it’s fairly certain that Nate and Josh, Ellie, and Mimi have been exposed to the ‘infection’ and not turned.”

  “As far as we can tell. Josh … It made him sick, but he didn’t become aggressive.” Nate’s impatience spikes. “I’m not sure where this is taking us. What we need to be doing is getting the hell out of here. If they drop that stuff-”

  “Why can’t we just stay here?” Mimi asks. “I don’t want to go back outside.”

  “Well, we need to get away because …” Ellie falters, glances at the stacked shelves. “Perhaps we should stay and wait it out. Mimi’s right; it is dangerous outside. I can’t believe we actually got here alive.” She pulls Mimi closer, and the girl slips an arm around her waist. “And anyway, all the roads are blocked. They won’t let us leave.”

  “Tim? What do you think? Can we wait it out then leave the city once their guard is down?”

  “I know it sounds like the easy option, but-”

  “We can stay here, Tim.” Ellie is animated now. “Look around you. We have everything we need to survive here. There’s food, water-”

  “That’s my stock!”

  “You’re kidding?” Nate interrupts. “Stop here whilst they drop Novichok 7? Have you any idea what that stuff is capable of?”

  “I’ve heard of it. It killed the Skripals in Salisbury.”

  “No, they survived, but let me tell you, if they use Novichok 7 on us, we could all be dead within minutes.”

  “Well, if they survived,” Ellie replies, “it can’t be that bad, and I just don’t believe they’ll do that. It’s mass murder. Our government wouldn’t do a thing like that, not to their own people!”

  “The stuff is deadly, Ellie, make no mistake about that. It’s so potent that you can stop breathing within seconds, go into cardiac arrest or suffocate from the fluid in your lungs within a couple of minutes. You can die, Ellie, within thirty seconds of it touching your skin! Is that something you want to risk?”

  “Of course not!”

  “It’s easy for them to use too. It can be a gas, a powder, a liquid. They can stick it in artillery shells, bombs, missiles, or even spray it.”

  “He’s right, Ellie. Novichoks were designed to be more toxic than any other chemical weapons, so some versions can take effect within thirty seconds.”

  “But it’s murder-”

  “It’s what Nate has been told, by someone who works for the government.”

  “Gareth, an old colleague,” Nate explains. “He works for the Civil Contingencies Secretariat in the Cabinet Office. They’re the ones who decide how to respond to … emergencies.”

  “They’re the ones who decide to nuke you when the shit hits the fan.”

  Ellie’s eyes widen, a disbelieving and disappointed child. “But surely … they’re supposed to protect us, not-”

  “Are you prepared to take the risk that they won’t drop it?” Toby asks. “I’m not. Tim, what do you say?”

  “I say we kit ourselves out and get the hell out of here.”

  “How?” Cathy asks. “Ellie said that all the roads are blocked and you’ve seen for yourself that the place is gridlocked.”

  “Like I said, it’s who you know that’ll help you in this situation.”

  “Tim! For crying out loud, quit it with the mystery, and tell us how we’re getting out of here.”

  “I’m coming to that bit, love.” Tim’s eyes gleam, delighting in the spotlight. “Well, it just so happens that I know the perfect escape route.”

  “Tim!”

  “Go on.”

  Tim gives Toby a knowing wink. “The National Grid have just finished digging a tunnel beneath the river.”

  “A tunnel?”

  “Beneath the river?”

  “Yep. And they broke through on the other bank last week.”

  “What kind of tunnel? I haven’t heard of anything.”

  “It’s to replace the current pipeline which is in a trench just below the river bed. It’s fascinating! They’re digging thirty-five metres below the river for this one.”

  “Pipeline? For what?”

  “Gas.”

  Nate imagines them crawling through filthy river mud on their bellies. “It’ll be too small!”

  “Nope. The tunnel is four metres wide. They’re digging it with Mary.”

  “Mary? Who the hell is Mary?”

  “A colossal drill. It’s one hundred and fifty metres long. Can you imagine that?”

  “So, big enough for us to walk through?”

  “Big enough to drive a car through.”

  “Wouldn’t make a difference if we did, the roads are blocked.”

  “Not round here, they’re not,” Toby smiles, “and the entrance to the tunnel is just half a mile down the road. The construction lorries have been going past the warehouse every day for the past six months.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

  “We’re waiting to see if any of us turn,” Tabitha insists.

  Silence falls again and the tension returns
.

  “How about we test for it?”

  “Test for it? This is getting ridiculous?” Nate’s patience snaps. “We need to leave, people!”

  “How about if we start feeling a bit …”

  “Like we want to rip each other’s heads off?”

  “I was going to say poorly, but yes, if we feel any kind of … rage coming on, we tell someone.”

  “And then what? We tie them up?”

  “Well …”

  “Listen. None of us has turned so far, so I think we’re in the clear.”

  “Or just not been infected.”

  “OK, perhaps just not infected, but we have to get out of here. I say we focus on that. They could be dropping that poison on us at any minute.”

  “Or not.”

  “Sure, Ellie, or not. But we’ve agreed hanging around is not worth the risk. OK. Executive decision.” Nate declares. “We pack three cars. Kit ourselves out in protective clothing and breathing apparatus, and make our way to this tunnel. If we feel a bit rage-y we tell someone.” He stares around at the silent people. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  The convoy arrives at the construction site to the angry roar of jet engines above the clouds. Ellie winds the window down as Tim darts from his vehicle, bolt cutters in hand, and slices through the padlocks securing the gates.

  “They’re doing it! They’re bloody well dropping it.”

  “Do that window up, Ellie.” Nate barks.

  Tim pulls the gate open and leaps back into his car with a fearful look at the sky, his protective suit making him bulky, and his movements awkward.

  Nate slams the Range Rover, stolen from the rental company neighbouring Toby’s warehouse, into first then third, and follows the speeding vehicles in front. Josh groans from the backseat as the car bumps over deeply gouged dirt tracks and descends towards the mouth of the tunnel. Nate glances at him in the rearview mirror. He’s slumped against Tina, still unconscious, but safe within his suit. Mimi and Todd are squeezed beside him. Ellie gasps as they drop into darkness, voice muffled by her helmet. Nate focuses on the cars ahead as sunlight is replaced by headlights, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel.

  The cars slow, but keep a steady speed as they progress through the tunnel. The minutes pass, and the tunnel glows red from the bright tail lights of the cars in front. The temperature drops and Nate shivers.

  “How much further?”

  “Not far,” Ellie placates.

  Minutes go by and then Ellie leans forward, pointing through the windscreen. “I can see light!”

  The cars in front pull ahead as the circle of daylight grows large and brightens.

  “We did it!”

  The Range Rover bounces as it hits the lip of the tunnel, jolting them forward. Nate slows to a stop, pulling alongside Toby’s blue Volkswagen Transporter, and winds down his window. Toby leans out. “Where now?”

  Infested. The lowlands will be infested. “We keep going.” Nate replies, a vision of dark hills, paths winding through trees, up and over moorland, returning. Infested. “We go up high; to clean air.”

  Nate shifts into first, pulling away from the tunnel as the convoy resumes. Josh coughs, white mist seeping as a delicate and twisting tendril from his mouth.

  Epilogue

  Two Days Later

  The Perspex container straddles the central table in the laboratory, it’s thick walls opaque where the gas hovers. The creature sits in one corner, unmoving; a spider in its trap. The only sign of agitation is a single click of its horned foreleg. The horn, Connaught has informed Littleton, is razor sharp at its point, not unlike the barb of a manta ray. Whether it is poisonous, is yet to be proven, though is suspected.

  Connaught steps to the cage containing the rats as Littleton coughs, the research scientist’s face is flushed. “We’ve noticed that it taps the barb just before we feed it.” Excitement glimmers in his eyes.

  “Do you feed it regularly?”

  “On the hour.”

  “So, it knows when the hour is up,” Littleton states.

  “It would seem so.”

  The bony leg rises, angled at the knuckle, and taps.

  “It’s asking to be fed?”

  Connaught reaches into the rats’ cage. “More of a demand, I’d say. It’s truly fascinating.”

  “Fascinating is not the word I would use, Connaught.”

  Taking the squirming rat by the tail, Connaught places it into the secondary chamber attached to the large plastic container. It scurries, turns back to the entrance as Connaught relocks the hatch, and scratches at the wall. The mist rises, and a tendril works its way into the smaller chamber, enveloping the rat. It scurries into the larger chamber. The bony leg of the creature lifts as the rat passes, and spears the rodent with its horned leg.

  “So, it does have the capacity to kill.”

  “It does, and its aim is always accurate; it hasn’t had to stab twice.”

  The rat lies rigid as the creature retracts its barb.

  “Is it paralysed? Will it eat it?”

  “Watch, major. You’ll see.”

  A long membranous tube elongates and hovers over the rat’s head. The creature bokes, spews orange vomit, then envelopes the head with its leathery proboscis. The noise of sucking is distinct, and nauseating.

  “That is disgusting.”

  “Indeed it is, but it’s not unlike our flies, which also spit enzymes onto their food then suck it up, although they eat anything, unlike this species which only appears to eat the brain of its prey.” Connaught gestures to a blue and white cool box on the counter. “You can take a look if you want. The remains of her last few meals are awaiting incineration after I’ve taken a look.”

  “Her?” Littleton draws back from the creature. “When is it scheduled for extermination?”

  “Extermination?”

  “Yes!” His voice is stern. “Extermination. It has to die, and the sooner the better.”

  “But we’re only at the beginning of discovering what it’s capable of.”

  Littleton turns away, the revulsion he feels borders on panic; the thing is truly repulsive, and dangerous. “We have absolutely no interest in learning what it is capable of; only in learning how to destroy it. One more day-”

  “One!”

  “Yes, one more day and then I will put in a request for the termination of this project.” Littleton recognises the steely glint of defiance in Connaught’s eyes. “I recognise that your … interest in this-”

  “What happened to ‘we can’t fight an enemy we don’t understand’?”

  “Connaught, the only thing we need to understand about this ‘enemy’ is how to rid the earth of its presence.”

  “But it’s a new species, Major. The ramifications-”

  “A new species that sees us as prey, Connaught.”

  “Wolves, lions-”

  Littleton snorts. “There is no comparison between this thing,” he gestures to the tank, “and lions and tigers, and it is far too dangerous to be kept alive. Man has spent decades attempting to wipe out pathogens that spread disease and death, this creature is no different.”

  “But a new species, major. We should study it to-”

  “A new species that I will make it my priority to drive into extinction, Doctor Connaught.”

  “By studying it, we have a chance of discovering what will kill the parasite, or reverse the effects of the infection, even create a vaccine. If we can do that, then you won’t have to exterminate entire communities with chemical weapons. The people will be cured.”

  Littleton remembers the images of the infected, and is not sure he’d want to see one ‘cured’; that they’d return to normal is doubtful. “Curing the infected may not be … hell, man, we need to stop this at source.”

  “Then let me continue with my research.”

  The monster in the cage retracts it proboscis, the gas swirls in agitation. The rat lies dead, its flesh stripped to bone, eye soc
kets empty, skull cavity cleaned out.

  “One day, Doctor Connaught-”

  Thud!

  Both men twist to look at the creature in the cage. It appears agitated, but is not the source of the noise.

  Thud!

  Both men stare across to the counter.

  Thud!

  The blue and white cool box shifts. Littleton steps towards the door. “What the hell is in that box, Connaught?”

  Thud!

  The box moves towards the edge. The creature in the cage scrabbles, its horned legs tapping against the plastic.

  “The dead rats.”

  “Dead?”

  Another thud and the box hangs over the edge.

  “Connaught, get out of here!”

  Thud!

  The box topples and its contents spray across the tiled floor.

  “Connaught get back!”

  Several of the rats are intact, their bellies distended, their heads skinned of fur and flesh. Others lay with bellies burst open, cavities empty. Across the floor, black monsters, miniature, mutated, versions of the hideous creature in the cage, scurry between the bodies, scattering across the room. Connaught stands frozen. Littleton backs to the door. “Connaught! Evacuate now! That is an order.”

  Littleton grabs the door handle, slamming it down as the things scurry to Connaught.

  “Move it, Connaught!” Littleton pulls the door open and leaps into the corridor.

  Connaught screams as a dozen black and spiny monsters launch into the air, pinning themselves to his body, stabbing barbed legs into his flesh, biting rows of tapered incisors into his face, arms, legs, and stomach. Littleton slams the door shut as one launches across the room. It thuds against the door as Connaught falls to the tiles, his legs jerking in spasms as the creatures devour him.

  Nate, Josh, Ellie and the group may have made it out of the city, but the danger for Mankind has only just begun!

  This epic story of a world at war with a new, and utterly terrifying, species continues in MORTAL SKIES 2

  If you liked Mortal Skies, then you’ll love THE KIELDER STRAIN.