Authors: Michael Robertson
He finally looked up and made eye contact with Vicky. He had to look back at the floor so he could speak again. “I’ve learned from my lies. I’m thirty-four and living on a shoestring budget so I can pay a shitty solicitor to help me see my boy more than once a fortnight. My problems are all my own making.”
“So what are you saying? I learn from the fact that I could have stopped humanity’s demise? Never mind I played a part in turning the entire fucking world into diseased lunatics. I just move on and become a better person?” A mixture of fury and grief moistened her eyes. “I’ll stand up in front of what few survivors there are and apologise for killing everyone they love. But it’s okay, everything’s great—I’m a better person now.” A sneer sat on her face like she had a bad taste in her mouth, and she shook her head.
“What could you have done to stop it? I’m guessing if you’d have threatened to talk, you’d have disappeared very fucking quickly. Just another dead body to be pulled from the river.”
Although she stared hard at him, Vicky’s face cracked.
Rhys’ throat dried and he reached across to touch the back of her warm and soft hand. She flinched, but she didn’t pull away.
After a few seconds, she turned her hand over and held his. When she looked up at him, she smiled through the pain. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not judging me… for being kind.”
“You’ve done your best in your life and that’s all any of us can do.”
Vicky nodded.
“You’re a good person, Vicky. You need to stop telling yourself otherwise.”
She paused for a moment before she looked up. The starkness of her stare afforded Rhys a rare glimpse at the person beneath the front. “I’ll come with you to find Flynn,” she said.
A wave of grief rushed forward and made Rhys’ skin tingle. He kept a hold of her hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rhys let go of Vicky’s hand. They had to move, but they could only do that if the diseased had gone. The top of the rough wall dug into Rhys’ grip when he pulled himself to his feet. The second he peered over, his legs buckled and he nearly fell.
Once he’d regained his composure, he tapped Vicky on the shoulder and motioned for her to stand up too. When she got to her feet next to him, he pointed down at the coach below. Caught between two steel pillars, it had nowhere to go. “Look,” he said, “a school trip. The pillars have trapped the coach.”
The lights may have been off in the coach, but Rhys saw the small bodies that moved inside. When he saw the school’s crest emblazoned on the vehicle, he said, “Thank god.”
“Thank god?”
Rhys shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s a primary school, but it’s not Flynn’s.”
As Rhys watched the kids move around inside of the coach, he could feel Vicky’s attention on him.
“What shall we do?” she said.
“What can we do? We can’t rescue a collection of children. Don’t get me wrong, I feel devastated for them, but we can’t help them. Flynn’s my number one—” The breath caught in Rhys’ throat when he saw the diseased man appear.
From the way Vicky tensed up beside him, she’d obviously seen him too. Vicky then whispered, “Dan.”
Damn, she was right. Although, not Dan as they’d seen him about half an hour before. Not the man who had abandoned his lover as he ran straight past them. That Dan had checked out, and good fucking riddance. That Dan was a cunt and deserved everything he got.
Other than Dan, there were no diseased that they could see. As he walked closer to the coach, Rhys spoke to Vicky in hushed tones. “I don’t think he’s twigged that there’s anyone in the coach.”
It didn’t look like Dan had twigged about much as he stumbled along and his head flicked from side to side. He continued to walk toward the coach until he bumped into it. Someone moved inside. Of course they did. It can’t be easy to convince a coach full of petrified kids to hold the fuck still. But Dan didn’t notice the occupants.
With his sweaty hand clamped across his mouth, Rhys watched Dan slide along the side of the coach. The moistness of his bloody cheek made a
screeeeeee
noise as it ran down the black vehicle’s side panel. Dan continued on, and his jaw snapped as if he could taste the air around him. “He knows there’s food nearby,” Rhys said.
A light flashed in the coach and Rhys’ stomach sank. “Fuck!” The mobile phone screen stopped Dan in his tracks.
Rhys’ heart ran away with him and his throat dried as he watched Dan turn slowly and tilt his head up to look at the window. Blood ran over his chin as his mouth hung open. His cheeks ran red.
“How the fuck can he see through those bleeding eyes? How do any of them see through them?” Rhys said.
Instead of a reply, Vicky continued to watch on, her breaths short and sharp.
Hysteria stirred inside the coach as Dan continued to look up. “There must be teachers on there with them,” Rhys said.
“Yeah, but how do you keep a coach full of kids calm?” Vicky replied. “It’s hard work trying to get one kid to do something against their will, let alone an entire fucking coach full of them.”
Another one of the kids moved in the coach.
Dan locked onto it.
Another one moved.
While he stared up at the coach, Dan swayed on the spot.
Another child moved.
“Why don’t they keep the fuck still?” Rhys said.
Dan banged on the window.
A child screamed.
Dan banged again, this time with more force.
The movement in the coach stopped.
Dan didn’t. Instead, he turned away from the coach and drew a deep intake of air that made his chest swell. Then, with what looked like great effort, he released a primitive scream. Like an enraged chimp, hysterical and fierce, Dan called again and again.
“What the fuck?” Vicky said.
Before Rhys could respond, the rolling thunder of what sounded like a thousand heavy footsteps replied. Rhys’ bowels twinged, and his jaw fell loose. “He’s just told the others he’s found food.”
Chapter Eighteen
The first of the diseased appeared. They ran at full tilt to Dan’s call.
Within seconds, the tide rushed forward as a constant stream of them. They screamed and yelled as they descended on the coach.
Vicky’s warm hand found Rhys’ and he squeezed back.
The first diseased crashed into the side of the coach with a loud
thump
. Several more followed and collided into the side of the large vehicle.
The diseased rocked the coach on its wheels, and more joined them all the time. A lot of them punched it like they thought they could bash their way through the metal.
The high-pitched screams of the children filled the air.
More diseased came.
Rhys gasped when the diseased lifted their side of the coach from the ground. “They’re going to tip it.”
It landed back on its wheels with a
crash.
They tried again with the same result.
“They’re lifting it higher each time,” Vicky said.
When they lifted the coach again, Vicky said, “No.”
The huge vehicle yawned like a large beast as it passed its tipping point. For a second, it teetered on its edge.
Then it fell.
It hit the ground to a loud
splash
as broken glass exploded away from it. The diseased jumped onto the side that now faced the sky and pounded against the unbroken windows.
“Don’t they have an emergency hammer to break the glass with?” Rhys said. “Surely they should try to do something to get out?”
Hundreds of diseased flooded over the side of the coach like ants onto sugar. They banged against the windows. Anxiety twisted Rhys’ stomach. “It won’t be long before—”
The windows down the side of the coach popped one after the other. The roar of a feeding frenzy mixed with the screams of what must have been at least forty children. They didn’t stand a chance as what seemed like a continuous stream of diseased swarmed out of the city.
The diseased rushed through the broken windows. They pushed and shoved one another aside to get at their prey. A fight broke out between several of them over one little boy who cowered beneath them. Rhys dropped his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to see any more.
***
When the cries stopped, Rhys looked up to see a writhing mass of activity inside the coach. Tears ran down his cheeks as he looked at the blood that coated the side of the black vehicle. Small diseased children climbed out of the wreckage, dazed and confused as if they’d just woken from the night terrors. With bloody eyes, slack jaws, and jerky movements, clarity had left their tiny minds. “Look at what we’re up against,” Rhys said. “How the fuck are we supposed to get out of this city?”
When Vicky didn’t reply, Rhys looked at her. She cried freely too. With a heavy sigh, Rhys turned away from the carnage.
Then he saw it and every muscle in his body froze.
Chapter Nineteen
A little boy of no more than about four years old stood in the stairwell door. He kept it propped open as he stared at Rhys and Vicky. Other than the twitch of his head from side to side as he seemingly took in Rhys, and then Vicky, and then Rhys again, he stood still. A low rattle ran through his chest with his laboured respiration.
Malice then twisted his features as he drew a deep breath that swelled his rib cage.
“Oh fuck!” Rhys said.
Higher pitched than Dan’s, the boy’s shrill primitive call sent ice through Rhys’ veins.
The child’s scream came in three braying waves. It may have only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a fucking lifetime. Rhys lost his breath when he looked over the car park wall at the carnage below. As one, the pack of what must have been one hundred or more diseased looked up… straight at Rhys. Their collective bloody stare drove frigid dread to Rhys’ core.
When he turned to Vicky, he saw it in her eyes. Despite her tough exterior, he knew she couldn’t do it.
Rhys headed straight for the boy and wound his baseball bat back as he ran. Just the thought of it weakened his muscles, but one of them had to do it.
The aluminium bat connected with the kid’s skull. It only took one swing to extinguish the boy’s fury and knock him to the ground.
To make sure, Rhys stamped on the kid’s head. His skull gave way like it was made from eggshell, and Rhys heaved at the sound of the wet crunch. Diseased or not, he’d just killed a little boy.
When he looked up, Vicky stared at him. A mixture of pity and disgust played out on her face.
The door to the stairwell creaked when Rhys pulled it open and pointed into it. “Come on, we’ve got to go if we’re to get away.” The sound of his voice echoed throughout the cavernous space.
When Rhys stepped over the dead boy and into the stairwell, the door at the bottom crashed against the wall from where it had been kicked open. The scream of the diseased filled the space. “Fuck!” Rhys said.
After he’d jumped backwards into the car park again, Rhys lifted the dead kid’s ankles and dragged him out of the way. “We can’t go down there, Vicky.”
Vicky looked over her shoulder in the direction of the car park next to the one they were in.
As he pressed himself into the now closed door, Rhys shook his head. “No way. No.”
“What else are we going to do?” Vicky said. “There’s no other way.”
The thunder of footsteps accompanied the screams that raced up the stairs. Rhys could feel their approach through the ground. “No way, Vicky. I can’t do it.”
It clearly didn’t matter what Rhys could or couldn’t do, Vicky had made her mind up. She bounced on her toes and said, “Just watch me. If
I can get across it at my height then so can you.”
The ground vibrated to the point where the door rattled in its frame. With his breath caught in his throat, Rhys looked at Vicky and nodded—like he had any other choice.
Vicky took off and ran at the wall on the far side of the car park at a flat-out sprint. Rhys couldn’t even move that fast.
The screams grew louder, the diseased so close he could smell their fetid musk of death. No more than two floors separated them and Rhys now.
Vicky didn’t break stride when she jumped up onto the metre-high wall that ran around the car park. She kicked off the top of it and flew through the air. No way could she make it. As her arms and legs windmilled, Rhys’ stomach flipped and he looked away. He couldn’t watch her fall to her death.
Chapter Twenty
When Rhys looked back, he saw Vicky had landed on the top floor of the car park on the other side. She waved him over. “Come on, Rhys, you can do it.”
The first diseased that reached the top of the stairs hit the door so hard, Rhys nearly fell over. His shoulder stung when he pushed back against it.
The second one didn’t catch him off guard as much, but as the third and fourth threw their weight against the door, Rhys’ feet slipped a little. If he stayed there much longer, it wouldn’t be a choice if he ran or not, the fuckers would be on top of him as they tore chunks from his face.
The door pushed open a crack. Bloody hands slid through the gap. Diseased fingers brushed against Rhys’ right arm.
While he gritted his teeth, Rhys pushed harder against the door, but his trainers slipped over the asphalt.
A variety of hands poked through. From adults’ to children’s, bloody to muddy, black to white; every one of them had bloodstains. Every one of them wanted to grab Rhys.
While he fought his losing battle, Rhys looked down at the dead boy. That could be Flynn if he didn’t get to him. He had to try to jump.