Peter turned his head just enough to look back at the other man and bit back the response he wanted to give. The reason he’d lasted so long with the other man was simply that he was cautious enough to not give Trevor a reason to want to fight him. Something, the others did quite frequently.
“Alright, if it’s a rat in the pipes, there’s no reason for it to come in here, is there?”
“I had an idea right…”
Peter stifled another groan and pushed himself up to a sitting position on his bunk and looked down at the other man as his heart sank a little. The last time he’d heard Trevor say that, he’d lost a tooth in the ensuing fight.
“Go on then.”
“Well, what about if we drip some blood around the edge of the toilet, yeah? They can smell it, can’t they?”
“That’s sharks.”
“No, it’s rats too, I swear it is. Bit of blood and it’ll make em think we have some food or summat.”
“How you gonna get the blood? Not like there’s anything in here to cut yourself with?” Peter gestured at the four walls that had little beyond a few photos taped to them. Their small number of personal items sat on the shelves above the sink and that was pretty much it. “What you gonna do to get blood?”
Trevor grinned, revealing yellowed, crooked, teeth and nodded at the larger man.
“You can hit me.”
“Hit you?”
“Yeah. You black lads like to fight don’t ya?”
“No more than anyone else.”
“Tell that to Alan and his boys. They’re always fighting with the blackies.” He held up his hands as Peter’s face twisted into a scowl at the mention of Bradley. “None of my business what you lot get up to. I just know if there’s a scrap, it’s usually your lot.”
“Carry on with that shit and I will lamp you!”
“See! I knew you were like the others. Do it, mate. A busted lip and I’ll have some blood to lure that rat out, see?”
“If I hit you will you shut up and let me try and sleep?”
“Yeah, mate, yeah. Whatever you want.”
Realising that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep if he didn’t do as the other man asked, Peter hopped down off of the bed and took a step back from Trevor. He curled his right hand into a fist and drew it back.
“You ready?”
“Do it!”
The thump of his fist hitting the other man’s face was audible even over the moans and shouting from the others. Trevor stumbled back, hands rising to his face as blood spurted from between his fingers.
“You broke my nose!”
“Sorry, missed.” Peter said, keeping his fist ready in case he needed to defend himself.
“No bother,” Trevor said, flicking some of the blood on his hand towards the toilet. “Lot more blood at least.”
“Yeah, sure.” Peter gave him a sceptical look before adding, “you gonna let me sleep now?”
Trevor just waved his hand in reply and with a half-shrug, Peter pulled himself up onto his bunk and lay back down. His stomach rumbled, loudly, and he pressed one arm over it as he tried to avoid thinking of the last time he’d actually eaten something.
At some point, he managed to fall asleep and was rudely awakened a short while later by the excited shout of Trevor. He blinked blearily before pushing himself up, trying to see what had made the other man so excited.
“I got one!” Trevor crowed, holding up something small and brown.
“Sure it’s not just a turd?”
“It’s a rat! I told ya I heard it.”
“Yeah, I guess you did. Congrats. Now what?”
“Now I’m gonna eat it,” Trevor said, happily. “You want some?”
As hungry as he was, Peter wasn’t that hungry, and he pulled a face as he shook his head.
“More for me then.”
Without warning, Trevor put the small creatures head in his mouth and bit down, hard. There was a sickening crunch before he hawked and spat the rat’s head back into the toilet bowl.
“For fuck's sake!” Peter said, with a look of disgust. “That’s been in the sewer.”
“Don’t care, I’m hungry.”
With bloody fingers, Trevor pulled at the flesh, peeling away the skin as best he could with just fingers and nails. As soon as some of the red, raw, flesh was visible, he bit down on it and used his teeth to tear it from the bone.
He chewed noisily and Peter shook his head and turned away. Almost two years he’d shared a cell with the other man. He’d seen him naked and wearing nothing but soiled underwear. He’d listened to the endless stories and the absolutely foul tales behind the tattoos he wore. But watching him tear flesh from the body of a rat was just too much.
It had been days since the guards had opened the cell doors and Peter wondered if they ever would. For all he knew, he would spend his last days in that cell and the next flesh Trevor tore from bone would be Peter’s.
That thought made him shudder and he lay back trying to think what could have happened to stop the guards from letting them out. It was a subject of much debate in C wing of Armley prison, judging by the comments shouted back and forth by the other prisoners.
The worst part was the fact that he should have been released two days before. He’d long since accepted his own part in why he was in prison. He’d acknowledged that there was no one to blame but himself, and he was okay with that. At least he’d thought he was. Which made it all the more galling knowing that for two days he’d been in that same dingy cell for absolutely no reason.
“You missed out, mate,” Trevor said as he lay down in his own bunk. “Wasn’t that bad.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
His stomach grumbled once again and, just for a moment, he wished that he’d taken Trevor up on the offer of a part of the rat. Filthy creatures though they were, it didn’t look like he would be getting anything else to eat anytime soon.
If he had known why, it would have made it easier to understand. But, one day the guards just hadn’t turned up and those already on shift finished had walked out without bothering to open the cell doors.
Something bad must have happened, something big! Terrorist attack, nuclear war or something. The constant sirens he’d been listening to for days indicated that. Then there was the gunfire. While not that familiar with guns, he’d known a few lads who had them and he recognized the sounds.
Outside, in the city, someone had been shooting. That meant it was either rioting, terrorists or something like that, as far as Peter was concerned. He just wished he knew what it was and why it meant he would be dying in the crappy cell he’d wasted almost three years of his life in.
“You hear that?” Trevor said, again, and Peter let out a groan.
“I don’t want to hear about another fucking rat!”
“Nah, not that.”
Trevor rose from his bed and padded over to the cell door. It had a thin strip of safety glass in it that gave them a view of a small portion of the shared common area outside the cell. He peered through it, face pressed up against the glass.
“There!” his voice rose with excitement, enough so that Peter sat up.
“What?”
“A light. Someone has a torch!”
No one in the cells would have a torch on them which meant it was a guard, had to be. Peter practically leapt off of the top bunk, legs almost buckling as he staggered. Too many days without food had robbed them of strength.
“Let me see.”
Trevor shifted to one side to allow Peter the chance to approach the glass. Even in the darkness, he could see the smear of the other man’s blood on the glass and he wrinkled his nose as he kept his own face away from it.
“I see it, someone coming down the corridor.”
“Told you.”
“Aye, you did-“
He cut off abruptly as the loud buzz of the door unlocking filled the small cell. All around them, the other prisoners yelled and cried out as their own cells were all opened fr
om the same terminal.
Without waiting, Peter yanked the door open and staggered out into the common area. Other prisoners were leaving their cells as well and he ignored them as he headed straight towards the door that led out of his cell block.
It opened as he approached and one of the prison guards that he recognized stood there, torch in hand and face unshaven. There was a dark, hooded, look to his eyes and he raised a hand warningly as the other prisoners began to follow Peter.
“Wait, wait!” the guard said. “Just wait.”
“The hell’s going on?” Peter demanded before anyone else could speak. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I didn’t know they’d left you in here,” the guard said, voice weary and full of pain. “Things are bad out there. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Bad how?” someone behind Peter asked.
“People are sick. They’ve been attacking everyone.” Peter caught a glimpse of pale skin beaded with sweat as the guard moved the torch he held in a hand that trembled. “Everyone’s dead.”
“The fuck’s he talking about?” someone shouted, as others took up the call.
Peter waved his arm angrily for silence and took a short step towards the guard who raised his hand in warning. Blood dripped from his sleeve to splash on the floor.
“It’s in the blood and the saliva,” he said as he saw the look on Peter’s face. “If you’re bitten it won’t be long before you’re like them.”
“Like who?”
“The Crazies, those people who have been infected. The ones killing and eating everyone else.”
“You’re nuts, man. That sounds like a shitty horror movie. It just don’t happen in real life, yeah?”
“It’s true,” he said wearily. “I’ve opened all the gates. You can walk straight out. No one will stop you. Nobody’s alive to care.”
“Why did you come back?” Peter asked as the other prisoners hearing that, began to push and shove to get past him and through the door. “Why did you bother?”
The prison guard lifted his shoulders in a shrug as he stepped aside, letting the prisoner’s past. His eyes met Peter’s for the briefest moment, and they were full of pain and loss.
“Someone had to, and I didn’t have anything else to do.” He winced and bent over slightly as though pained. “Go on now, and good luck. I have to open the other cell blocks while I have time.”
He turned away, making his slow, halting way down the corridor as Peter watched not quite sure he understood what was going on at all. In short time he was gone from view and the other prisoners had disappeared into the dark maze of corridors as they ran for their freedom.
“Pretty fucked up, huh?” Trevor asked from directly behind Peter.
“Yeah. Why you still here?”
“Figured I’d hang around with you for a bit,” Trevor said, with another foul grin. “Anyone I knew left me long ago. Not like I have anyone waiting for me. You?”
“Ah, yeah, there’s someone out there,” Peter said, eyes narrowing as he looked at the other man. If what the guard had said was right, he was pretty sure he would need someone out there to watch his back. “You can come if you like.”
“Sound.” A grimace crossed his face. “Christ, I think that rat was proper dodgy. I ain’t feeling too great.”
“Well, if you’re gonna be sick, do it now. Not sure what it’s gonna be like out there but I doubt we’ll have time to hang around.”
With that, he set off down the corridor, determined to get out of the prison first and then, find some food to eat. Something told him that he’d need all his strength for what he was about to face.
Chapter 4
The mood in the flat was sombre as the residents gathered. One person for each floor of the block of flats. Where once there had been fifteen, they had dropped down to nine. Since the bottom six floors had been sealed off as best they could, there was nobody on those floors to need representing. Instead, their needs and complaints had been passed on to the representative from whichever floor where they’d found a home.
Deacon had been invited along, mainly because there were still plenty of questions needing answers and it seemed that he, perhaps, had some.
They had gathered in Denis’ flat once again and the older man grimaced as the others around him made their displeasure with him known. There was little love for the man, and he knew it, which was why he had browbeaten his neighbours into keeping him as the representative. It was the only bit of power he had left.
Jack stood beside the window, looking down over the city as the representatives settled themselves in place. There wasn’t much in the way of small talk and he knew that by the time he was done the mood wouldn’t be any better.
Kyra and Deacon stood talking quietly next to him. She was clearly someone that had a decent understanding of how to carry a conversation and Jack was pleased that it saved him having to do it. He glanced back to where Denis sat beside Lennie Pearce and Chester Shaw. Two allies who still seemed able to stomach his presence.
He pushed down the urge to sneer and turned back to the window. Out in the darkness the infected would be out in full force. They avoided the daylight unless they were in a large enough group and Jack suspected it was to do with survival instinct more than anything else.
Across from his tower block were two others. One sat dark and empty, the resident’s dead or infected and beside it, lights shone brightly in the window of the other. There were people still alive in there and that would be a potential problem he would need to address soon enough.
“Think we’re all here,” Darcy Carter said. Another of Denis’ allies, she was a stout woman with tight blonde curls and way too much makeup that couldn’t hide the constant disapproving looks she gave the others. “We gonna start?”
“Yes, let’s begin with-“
“I’m tired,” Jack said, cutting Denis off before he could begin. “Tired of the bickering and the moaning, so we will keep this short.”
He turned to face the room as silence fell and all eyes were on him. He managed a weary smile as he leant back against the radiator that was fixed to the wall beneath the window. He could feel the warmth of it, a barrier to the cold wind that blew in the world beyond.
“The lower floors are as secure as we can make them,” he began. “Took us all of yesterday and most of today, but the windows are boarded over, and the stairwells are blocked.”
He kept a wary eye on Denis as he said that and was gratified to see the older man squirm in his seat.
“We’re safe, for the moment, from the infected but we need to avoid attracting their attention. That means every flat either has to be able to block any light getting out or not have their lights on when its dark.”
“Why?” Darcy spluttered, voice full of indignant anger. “You can’t expect us to sit in the dark and do nothing.”
“Aye, lad,” Chester chimed in. “Get’s dark before five most days. What do you expect people to do?”
“Survive,” Jack said, simply and in a tone of voice that immediately quietened the others. “I want them to survive. We don’t know when or if any help is coming and from what we’ve heard, it’s not looking good.”
“How do you mean?”
Jack turned to look at the speaker. Seth Barnes was in his seventies and his wife was diabetic. It was a conversation he’d have rather had alone, but there simply hadn’t been the time.
“From what Deacon has heard via his radio, several more cities have fallen to the infected and they are spreading out into the countryside. The death toll is in the millions and it’s like this across the world. Out government has gone into hiding and we are on our own.”
The old man’s face lost some of its colour and he trembled as he understood just what that was likely to mean for his wife. Emmie Dean, a young single-mother and seemingly nice person, crossed over to him and took hold of his hand as she murmured soft, soothing words to him.
“I’m sorry,” Jack continued.
“But this is the reality of the situation. Whatever is infecting these people isn’t going away and it’s only going to get worse. As the infected get hungry, they will be hunting for more prey and if they see a light on, they will come here.”
“You’ve secured the floors below,” Chester said. “I thought we were safe?”
“I don’t think they’ll be able to get in but we wouldn’t be able to get out if they are hanging around trying to get in.”
“Get out?”
“Yes. We have some food and other supplies and we managed to grab quite a bit from the other block of flats before the infected forced us back in here. But, it’s still not enough. Not to last us the winter.”
“You want to go out there again!” Kyra said, face registering her surprise. “After last time I thought… well, I didn’t think you’d risk it. I told you what I saw.”
When the infected had been attacking the tower block, Kyra and those others in the car with her had decided to leave, thinking there was no chance of them surviving. What they had found was that every road leading away from the city centre was blocked with traffic and the infected were attacking everyone.
There were potentially tens of thousands of infected out in the city and many more people already dead. Those that remained wouldn’t last long if they tried to flee and soon, they too would be running short of food.
That left very few options for Jack and the others. They needed to get out into the city and gather as much food and supplies as they could before it was taken by others.
“We have little choice,” he said, to the room. “Even if we ration, there’s over a hundred people here and we can’t feed everyone for long.”
“Then why did you let those others stay?” Denis snapped. “The two women?”
“We won’t turn people away.”
“Aye, lot of good that will do us when we have less food and more mouths to feed.”
“He raises a good point,” Deacon said, shooting a look of disgust towards Denis. “Where do you draw the line? Two here, three there? What about when that other tower block full of people runs out of food and comes begging?”
“There has to be a limit,” Kyra agreed. “As much as we may hate to do it. We have to look after ourselves first.”
Rage (Book 2): The Infected Page 3
