Rage (Book 2): The Infected

by Murray, Richard

  That the other woman was sneering about it offended Sarah greatly and if it weren’t for the danger they were in, she would have already stormed off. The absurdity of her situation didn’t escape her notice.

  Stuck on top of a parking structure, in a storm, and afraid to go down into the covered sections for fear of infected people and rats that would, if she were lucky, simply kill her. On top of that, Jason looked very close to the point where he would turn and, once he did, he could infect the rest of them. Which left her with an immediate problem she could at least distract herself with.

  She picked her knife up from where it had been left on top of her rucksack and reversed it in her hand. Kyra gave her a bemused glance as she crossed over to the car that Jason leant against. She lifted her hand and brought the bottom of the knife’s handle down against the glass of the passenger side door.

  It didn’t crack and she repeated the gesture, smashing the handle into the glass with enough force that it shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Kyra demanded.

  “Help me,” Sarah said in reply, setting down her knife and reaching for Jason.

  Shaking her head, Kyra looked over at the ramp leading down into the structure to make sure no infected had been drawn out by the noise and then went over to help the other woman lift the shivering man.

  Once they had him on their feet, Sarah pulled open the passenger side door and guided him into the seat. Kyra, finally understanding what she was doing, pulled the seatbelt across his body and locked it into place.

  “If he turns, he should be stuck,” Sarah said, somewhat grimly. “If he doesn’t, then he’s as safe there as anywhere else.”

  “Yeah,” Kyra agreed, looking at the other woman with the first hint of admiration. “I don’t suppose you know how to hotwire a car do you?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “That’s a shame. We might have had a chance.”

  Anna, having watched them in silence, raised a hand as she tilted her head to the side.

  “I think they’ve found the infected,” she said as the first screams came to them.

  Chapter 17

  The group moved slowly into the darkened interior. While relieved to be out of the rain and chill wind, they couldn’t shake the creeping fear that they were someplace that they shouldn’t be.

  Bradley led the way with his usual cocky confidence and two of his more loyal gang members close behind. Peter came next, clutching the knife so hard that he feared it would snap in half.

  Behind him, the last four stuck close together, trying to look in all directions at the same time as they nervously held weapons they had never used before. They were dealers, mainly, and while many had brandished a knife before, none had ever used one on another person.

  Bravado and keeping your mates close was the method that usually worked for them. Maybe a fistfight or two, but they were kids, barely out of school and moving aimlessly through life on the lowest level of the gang hierarchy.

  They weren’t fighters. Which was why, when the screaming woman leapt onto the bonnet of a car as they passed, they stopped and stared. Naked but for the cuts and bruises on her skin, she threw back her head and howled.

  It was too late to do more than raise a baton before the woman leapt straight at them, bowling the closest over and taking him to the ground in a thrashing mass of limbs. He flailed ineffectually with the baton as he called desperately for help.

  The infected woman pulled back her head and spat a gobbet of saliva directly into the young man’s face before scrambling away from the others that rushed towards her. She hissed at them as she crouched on the cold concrete, a few feet away.

  “Fucking do her!” Bradley snapped as the others helped the downed man up.

  A couple of the closer lads shared a look that seemed to ask whether they were more afraid of the woman or Bradley, before they brandished their batons and went for her.

  The first swing missed and the lad holding it stumbled in front of his mate. The infected woman seized the moment and leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her teeth tore into the flesh of his neck.

  As he screamed and jerked around, his mate swung his baton at shoulder height, cracking the woman squarely in the side of the head. Blood splattered against the ground as she turned her head to howl at him.

  The man holding the bloodied baton stared at her wide-eyed, not quite sure what to do, while Bradley cursed and ran forward. His knife sank almost to the hilt in the woman’s side but still, she refused to release her hold on the screaming man.

  “Her head!” Peter called. “Stab her in the bloody head!”

  Without hesitation, Bradley pulled free the knife and slammed it forward into the howling woman’s skull. She hit the ground, dragging the knife from Bradley’s hand and he stared down at the blood on his hands for a moment, face twisted in disgust before he looked up at his crew.

  “Shut him the fuck up and get ready, more will be coming.”

  “I don’t feel good,” said the young man who had been the first to be attacked, and the others looked at him, noting the paleness to his skin. “I feel sick.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be fine, pal,” Bradley said, patting him on the shoulder. “Get ready.”

  All of them seemed to become aware of the sound at the same time, a soft chittering hiss and they instinctively moved closer together, facing outwards in a rough circle as they tried to see in all directions.

  “The fuck’s that noise?” one of the gang members asked.

  “Dunno.”

  “Coming from up there,” another said, pointing towards the ramp leading up.

  The sibilant hissing filled the group with fear, and they looked nervously around, each one hoping someone would tell the rest of them what to do.

  “What they waiting for?” Peter asked, not expecting an answer.

  “No idea,” Bradley replied. “Maybe-“

  “I don’t feel good…”

  They both turned as the young man who had been spat on collapsed to his knees. His body shaking as though he were having a seizure and his baton dropped from limp fingers.

  “What-“ Peter began but stopped as the young gang member threw back his head and howled.

  He leapt to his feet, before spinning on his heel and backhanding Peter across the face. Peter stumbled back and all of a sudden, as though a gate had opened, the infected ran down the ramp.

  Naked and bloody, their bodies bearing testament to the abuses they had suffered before the infection took them. Their faces were twisted with madness and they wanted to hurt, to kill, to feed.

  Bradley, reacted first, his knife flashed out and blood spurted over the man to his right. The young, infected, gang member, staggered back, blood spraying from the wide cut in his throat.

  “Their heads!” Bradley called as he kicked the young gang member away. “Kill the fuckers fast!”

  Peter was slammed against a car as an infected man hit him full-on, almost throwing him from his feet. A fist struck the side of his head and he staggered back, hands moving almost instinctively, and he blinked as the infected man stared at him, eyes wide and mouth moving but nothing coming out other than a gurgle.

  The knife Peter held had gone up through the chin and through the soft palate, into the brain. The Infected man was dead, he just hadn’t realised it yet. Peter pulled free the knife and shoved the man’s body away. It fell with a thump to the concrete.

  Another of the gang members was down, screams filling the air as two infected people chewed on his body. One, biting off the man’s fingers one by one, chewing and swallowing quickly. The other was tearing chunks of flesh from his ankle.

  Bradley had two bodies on the ground before him and, moving with the agility of a trained fighter, was blocking the punches thrown his way and responding with his blade, arm shooting out like a viper, blade sinking deep.

  The others were fighting with the infected and Peter ran to
wards the nearest struggling man. He didn’t even think as he rammed his blade into the back of the infected man’s skull. It broke through with a sickening crunch of breaking bone.

  “Behind you!” a voice called, and he spun, elbow rising up to break the nose of the woman rushing towards him.

  She barely seemed to notice, just hawked and spat at him. Peter ducked, pulling his knife free and spinning away from the infected woman. The man he had just helped, cracked her in the side of the head with the baton he held, and she went down, limbs twitching.

  The fight was short and brutal as the infected fought with a rage-filled madness, ignoring minor wounds and doing their best to spread their bodily fluids around. Their stench filled the area, blood and piss and shit, all mixed together.

  One infected man, ignoring the fighting, mounted the twitching body of the infected woman that wasn’t quite dead. Insane laughter burst from his mouth as he thrust into her stinking body and he didn’t notice Bradley until the gang leader stabbed his blade straight into the side of his skull.

  Then the fighting was over, and the group stood amidst the carnage, covered in blood and other foul substances, as their hearts beat wildly in their chests.

  “Anyone bit?” Bradley asked, curtly.

  “Nah, mate,” one gang member said. “Think Jez was spat on though.”

  “Fuck, no!” Jaz said, staring wild-eyed at the gang leader. “He didn’t get me, man.”

  “What the hell was that?” Peter asked. “Man gets spat on and then goes fucking nuts?”

  “Yeah, those others too,” Bradley said, gesturing at the bodies. “They knew, didn’t they? Waited till he turned into one of them before they attacked.”

  “Messed up,” Peter agreed, looking down at his blood-covered jacket. “No one get the blood anywhere near a cut, your mouth or your eyes, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” was the chorused replies.

  “Two of us for a dozen of them,” Bradley said, voice lowering as he joined Peter. “Not bad.”

  “We’re down to six and I doubt that’s all there is here.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah.”

  Bradley turned to the others. “Gather your shit and let’s go.”

  “We off back to the van, boss?”

  “Nah, we’re going up, lads.”

  The gang members showed fear and hesitation, but none dared argue with their leader, and dutifully followed him as he led the way up the ramp to the next level. Peter paused as a sound came to him and he turned back, wary.

  They came from all across the floor, small bodies scurrying faster than he could track, from under cars and out of the darkest places. His face twisted in disgust as the rats clambered over the bodies and began to tear at the flesh.

  He shook his head as he turned to follow the rest of the group, knowing that the horror he had just see was not going to be the worst thing he experienced that day.

  They moved quickly up the next two floors, keeping a watchful eye out for any of the infected, and on each other. If any of their own number were infected, they would deal with them before they could turn on the others.

  On the fourth floor, they dashed from car to parked car, checking around them before moving on. Peter stayed to the rear of the group, so when they stopped beside a red Citroen, he was the only one that saw the hand reach out from beneath the car to grab at a gang members leg.

  Before Peter could even call out, the hand had closed around the ankle and was yanked back. The gang member fell with a cry of surprise that turned to one of horror as he was dragged beneath the car.

  “The fuck was that!” someone yelled, as the group practically leapt away from the car.

  “Hiding under the cars,” Bradley snapped. “That’s all we fucking need.”

  He didn’t seem to care about the screams of his lackey, or the way the young man’s bloodied hands were torn up as he clawed at the concrete, trying to pull himself out.

  “Get ready!” Peter called, raising his knife. “They’ll come out.”

  “Leave em! Head up to the next floor!”

  Without waiting for a reply, Bradley turned and jogged across to the next ramp. The three remaining gang members followed, but not without a lingering glance at their friend. Shaking his head, Peter ran after them.

  On the fifth level, the infected were waiting. A handful of them crouched over in the shadows beside the ramp that led up onto the top floor. They turned as the group ran up the ramp and didn’t hesitate before bursting into howls of anger and running straight at them.

  “We got this!” Bradley crowed, watching them come, arms spread wide, and knife held ready.

  Peter wasn’t so sure, and his shoulders hunched as another cry was raised behind him from the floor below.

  “More coming!” he called but was ignored as the others met the infected head-on.

  With little choice, Peter turned to face the two infected that came running straight up the ramp towards him. One naked and bloodied, the other still wearing the prison garb, though the face he recognised was twisted into a mask of hate.

  A right hook to the jaw sent the former gang member staggering back long enough for Peter to kick out, sweeping his legs from under him. As the man fell, the naked infected man was on Peter, arms flailing wildly.

  Peter didn’t hesitate, left hand grabbing the closest arm of the infected man, he pulled him in close and jammed the knife straight into his chest. A peculiar look crossed the infected man’s face before he coughed, spraying bloody foam-flecked spittle directly at Peter.

  With a curse, Peter pulled free the knife and kicked out at the other infected that was trying to rise to his feet. His heel caught the man in the jaw and knocked him back, long enough for Peter to step forward and slam the knife down into his skull.

  He pulled the blade free and turned to see how his group fared. Bradley was standing, chest heaving over the bodies while two of the gang members held down the third who was convulsing.

  “Kill him,” Bradley ordered, his eyes moving towards Peter. “You good?”

  “Yeah, mate.”

  “Let’s go get our reward then.”

  The gang leader flashed a grin and strode towards the ramp, his lackeys finished off their fallen friend and followed after him. Peter hurried to catch them up, not quite sure what they were going to do.

  “Hey,” he called out. “Hold up!”

  Something in his voice caused Bradley to stop and turn. He cocked an eyebrow, “What?”

  “Can you hear that?”

  “What the fuck is it now?”

  “That…” Peter said, glancing around. His eyes widened as he realised where the sound was coming from. “Oh hell!”

  Bradley, following his gaze, looked up. There, running along the pipes that ran the length of the ceiling, were rats. Hundreds of them, all scurrying along towards the men. Several dropped from the pipe onto the fallen bodies and immediately began to feed.

  “That’s not fucking right,” Bradley said, his words echoed by a crash of thunder from just outside. “That’s messed up!”

  “Yeah, how about we run!”

  Peter didn’t wait to see if the others were doing the same but started running full speed towards the ramp. He was up and out into the lashing rain before he thought to check for danger and skidded to a stop, turning with his knife raised as the others ran up behind him.

  Bradley came up beside him, breath coming in gasps as he stared at the darkness inside the parking structure.

  “They’re not following.”

  “Fucking rats, man!” one of the men said, shivering and not from the cold.

  “They don’t like the storm,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. “Like the infected don’t.”

  The group turned to face the women they had come to rescue, well aware that they must have been a sight, covered in blood and missing several of their number.

  “Bang up bloody rescue you guys have done,” said the beautiful, dark-haired,
woman with just a little contempt in her voice. Her eyes swept the group, stopping briefly on Peter whose face darkened. “Anyone know how to hotwire a car?”

  Chapter 18

  The storm still raged as the trucks pulled up outside the trio of tower blocks. Dobb’s, driving the lead truck glanced over at the pensive looking Jack and waited patiently for instruction.

  Someone had noticed their arrival and the door to their tower block opened, an invitation and a sign that the area was as safe as it was going to get.

  “Park as close as you can. Drive over the bodies if you need to,” Jack said, watching out of the side window. “Keep an eye out for danger.”

  Not that they expected any. The storm clouds that filled the sky, rumbling with thunder and sending flashes of lightning down towards the city, had done what the military couldn’t. Cleared the streets of the infected.

  How long that would last was anybody's guess and it was with that thought in mind, that Jack opened the door and climbed out of the cab after Dobbs parked it in front of the tower block.

  Lennie Pearce stood beside the open door, wringing his hands as he watched Jack approach. As soon as the younger man arrived, he raised an ingratiating smile.

  “You’re back?”

  “Aye, where is everyone?”

  “Young Mark has gone to get some people to come down and help… you have got food to unload?”

  “Yeah, we have.”

  Jack glanced back at the two trucks. Dobbs was out of the cab and had gone around to the back to open up the coverings on the truck. Claire and Deacon were both making their way across to where Jack stood.

  “I want as many people as you can get down here,” Jack said. “These trucks need to be unloaded and everything taken upstairs before the storms passes. We clear?”

  “Sure, sure…” Lennie lifted himself onto his tiptoes to look over Jack’s shoulder. “Just the four of you?”

  The question was clear in his voice and Jack couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his face as he turned away.

  “Get everyone moving, now!”