“So where is it, exactly?” asked Daniel. He was turned around in his seat, the van parked up at the side of an empty street. The engine was running, but the lights were off, in the hope that they didn’t attract attention, but if they did, they’d be ready to get the Hell out of there in a hurry.
“About two and a half hours north on a good day,” said Hoon. “So tonight? Not a clue. It’s just past Fort William.”
“I’ve been to Fort William,” said Leanne. “It was pretty boring.”
“You think?” said Abbie. “I was there a few years back and thought it was lovely. We went snowboarding.”
Hoon twitched with irritation. “Well, this is all very fucking informative, but I really don’t care,” he said. “Let’s break it down. Population of Glasgow? One million. Population of Highbridge? Nine.” He gave that a moment to sink in. “Oh, and that one million? All violent mad bastards, in case you hadn’t noticed. And that’s at the best of times.”
“He’s right,” said Marshall, joining his DCI in kneeling behind the front seats. “We should go up there to regroup at least. Try to figure out what’s going on.”
Daniel and Abbie exchanged a glance. “I don’t know,” said Daniel. “How will we find out what’s going on up there? Won’t we just be hiding?”
Marshall nodded. “So? Nothing wrong with hiding for a bit.”
“We wouldn’t be hiding,” said Hoon. “I mean, aye, we could hide, but my sister’s up there and she has – and I’m underselling this here – a
lot
of guns. And I mean a
worrying
number of the bastards. She’s a collector,” he explained. “And when I say ‘collector,’ I mean ‘fucking nutter.’”
He gestured out through the front windscreen. The street was empty, but the drifting smoke and the distant clanging of alarms were a constant reminder of the ongoing situation. “This’ll get sorted out sooner or later by brighter sparks than us. It’s bound to. Best we can do in the meantime is tool up, hole up and wait for the dust to settle.” He looked across all their faces. “Agreed?”
Daniel still didn’t look wholly convinced. “What about families?” he asked. “Are we just leaving them?” He looked very pointedly at Leanne.
“Mine are in Spain,” she said, trying very hard to hide the wobble in her voice. “I don’t know… I haven’t heard from them.”
“There’s just my husband,” Abbie said. “And he tried to kill us, so I’m not keen on bringing him along.”
“One sister,” said Hoon. “And she’s where we’re going.”
All eyes went to Marshall. His face reddened with the sudden attention. “Um, my mum and dad are in London. My sister and her kids are in Edinburgh. Right in the middle.”
“M8’s blocked,” said Hoon. “We’d have to go the long way. Or on foot.”
Daniel shrugged. “That’s doable.” He watched Marshall expectantly. “So, what do you want to do?”
Marshall looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “Well, I suppose if the road’s blocked…” he muttered. “And Edinburgh would be the same as this, probably. Maybe worse.” He cleared his throat and looked up, but didn’t quite meet anyone’s gaze. “Let’s just go north,” he said.
“Are you sure?” asked Abbie. “You’re just going to leave them?”
Marshall’s cheeks prickled with embarrassment. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he said. “Her husband’s a good man.”
“So was mine,” said Abbie, her throat tight.
Marshall gestured to Immy. “Aye. Well. Better get the wee one somewhere safe.”
“Hey, I mean, if that’s what you want,” said Daniel. “But I know if it was my--”
“Guys, look!” Leanned yelped, stabbing her finger towards the street in front. A woman in what was until recently probably a very elegant black dress hobbled, bare-footed, along the street. “Help!” she babbled. “Someone help me, please!”
Behind her, three others – all men, Marshall thought, but it was hard to tell – sprinted around the corner, their heads down, their hands grabbing for the woman. She was a dozen yards ahead of them, but they were closing fast.
Daniel floored the gas pedal and the van rolled forwards, quickly picking up speed. He flicked on the lights and the woman blinked in shock, then she swerved left and began stumbling towards the approaching vehicle. “Help me! Help me, please!” she wailed.
Hoon swiveled around to the side door and caught the handle. “Hold on,” he warned Marshall and Leanne, then he pulled the handle and the door flew all the way open. “Marshall, get ready to grab her,” Hoon barked. Marshall took a deep breath and nodded mutely.
“Get ready,” Daniel said, pushing down on the brakes. Hoon leaned out and saw the woman just a few yards ahead, then men hot on her ruined heels.
“Faster, love,” he said, but then he saw the axe arcing out behind her. He thrust a hand out towards her. “Look out!” he warned, but too late. There was a
crack
as the axe caught her across the side of the head, the blade burying itself in all the way to her nose.
She staggered sideways and slammed against the side of the vehicle, the axe sticking out of her skull like a carry-handle. Hoon drew back as the woman hit the ground. Her pursuers glanced briefly at him, then fell on her like wild animals, ripping and gouging and tearing at her flesh.
“Drive,” Hoon said, wrestling to close the door.
“But what about that woman?” Leanne asked.
“If we can help her…” Daniel began, but the slamming of the side door cut him off.
“We can’t,” Hoon said. He glanced out through the back windows, and regretted it almost immediately.
“Let’s just get out of here,” he muttered. “Last I heard, the Erskine Bridge was still open. Head for that.”
“Then what?” asked Daniel.
“Then just keep going straight for a hundred miles,” said Hoon.
“And hope we don’t meet anyone along the way,” Leanne added, quietly.
***
Leanne sat between Abbie and Daniel, focusing all her attention on the baby, and trying not to look at the carnage and chaos passing by the windows. The first few routes to the bridge had been blocked – twice by abandoned accidents, once by an army of rioters who had chased the van for several minutes - but Daniel had eventually found a way through.
The Erskine Bridge was less than a mile away now, and while there were cars abandoned all over the approach road, its two lanes meant it was possible to weave between them.
“She’s cute,” Leanne said, tapping Immy lightly on the end of the nose. Immy wriggled happily. “Can I hold her?”
Abbie smiled weakly. “Uh, maybe in a wee bit, OK? I just… I want to hold onto her just now. You know, what with everything.”
Leanne nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She stuck her tongue out at Immy. The baby blinked, then smiled.
“No, you should, it’s fine,” Abbie said. “Just… maybe in a wee bit.”
Hoon sat against the van’s back doors, head back, eyes closed. Marshall was sitting on a wooden bench that was so narrow as to be almost completely pointless. It was so uncomfortable he had started to suspect it wasn’t a bench at all, but rather just some sort of manufacturing defect.
“You awake, sir?” Marshall asked.
Hoon sighed. “With any luck no, and this is all just a dream.” He opened his eyes. “What’s the matter?”
Marshall shifted on his shelf. “It’s just… that stuff you were saying. Back at the station. About the bug.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I mean,” Marshall began. He glanced to the others, who were chatting away up front. “It’s a bit… far-fetched, isn’t it?”
Hoon nodded. “Aye. So?”
Marshall leaned over and supported himself on the back door as the van pulled a tidy S-shape around two abandoned vehicles. “So… why did you say it?”
“Because it’s true,” Hoon said. “I was down in cells with Morrison--”
“Watson.”
“Whoever. I was down in the cells with him, and we saw them. Everywhere they were. The walls, the ceiling, the floor,” Hoon said, his eyes darting left and right like he was watching the memory replaying in front of him. “Bugs. Hundreds of bugs.”
“What did you do?” Marshall asked.
“What do you think we did? We ran,” Hoon said. “Like shite off a shovel. They got Morr—
Watson
. Just piled on him, burying the poor fucker. There was nothing I could do.”
Marshall leaned over and rested a comforting hand on Hoon’s arm. The DCI immediately yanked it away. “Get off, ye bell-end,” he snapped. “So next thing I know, Watson’s back on his feet, but he’s not him. Not really. He’s different.”
“In what way?”
“Well, he’s trying to gouge my eyes out for one thing, and from past experience that’s quite a fucking departure for the old bastard,” Hoon said. His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, then he shook his head. “Anyway, long story short, I put him down. But then I see it.”
Marshall leaned in. “See what?”
“The bug. Big ugly brute of a thing. Sort of like – have you ever seen a stag beetle?”
Marshall shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
“Right. Doesn’t matter, then. It was like a stag beetle, but bigger and with more, I don’t know, sticky-out bits on its head,” Hoon explained. “It was just sitting there on the back of my hand, looking up at me.”
“What did you do?” Marshall asked.
Hoon frowned. “Nothing. That’s the thing. I was terrified of the ugly wee bastards when they were on the walls and that, but once it was on my skin… nothing. Not a flicker of worry. Nothing.”
He stared at the back of his hand for a while, as if he could still see the bug there now. At last, he gave himself a shake. “Anyway, it vanished. It was like I blinked, and it was gone. Just, you know, gone. So there I am, wondering where it’s vanished to, and then I start to hear it.”
Marshall adjusted himself on his narrow seat. “Hear it?”
“Aye,” Hoon said, crawling his fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp. “It’s like I start to hear it whispering.”
“What, in English?” Marshall asked.
“Aye, in English,” Hoon said, but a flicker of doubt crossed his pock-marked face. “Well, maybe not right away, but quickly in English, aye.”
“And what was it saying?” Marshall asked.
Hoon raised his eyes and met Marshall’s gaze. “That I should kill everyone,” he said. “Right now, it’s telling me I should kill you. It wants me to tear your fucking throat out and feed you it through your arse.”
Marshall’s mouth went dry. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a scrape at the back of his throat. “Right, I see,” Marshall said. “And… you’re not going to listen to it, are you?”
It took what felt like a very long time for Hoon to shake his head. “No,” he said, quietly. “No, I don’t think so. But I’ll keep you posted.”
Marshall let out a shaky breath. “Well that’s reassuring,” he said, then he rocked sideways as the van slowed to a halt.
“Eh, lads,” called Daniel. He put an arm over the back of the passenger seats and turned to Marshall and Hoon. “We’ve got ourselves a wee problem out here.”
“OK, top five zombie movies in reverse order,” said Jaden. “Go.”
Col glanced at him, then went back to scanning the houses around them. The power was out on this street, and in three of the last four they’d walked down, but the glow of the now-distant fire pushed away the late-evening gloom.
“Is this really the right time?” Col asked. “We should keep our eyes open for more… you know.”
“Zombies.”
Col sighed. “They’re not zombies. There’s no such thing.”
Jaden twirled his gun on his finger. “OK, fine. There’s nobody around, so humor me. Top five zombie movies in reverse order.”
Col hefted the cop’s revolver from one hand to the other, trying to get used to the weight of the thing. “Fine,” he muttered. “Probably Day of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead – original, not remake – Shaun of the Dead, 28 Days Later--”
“Aha!” Jaden cried.
“What?”
“28 Days Later.”
“What about it?”
“You just said it was a zombie film,” said Jaden. “Yet there are no zombies in it.”
Col blinked. “Yeah there is. It’s full of them.”
Jaden put an arm around Col’s shoulder. “Oh, you poor misguided child. The
zombies
in 28 Days Later are just normal people infected with the Rage virus. They’re not reanimated corpses, just very angry, very violent individuals.”
Col could see where this was going. “Fine, OK. Wayne and that cop were zombies. It’s the zombie apocalypse,” he said. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” crowed Jaden.
Col shrugged Jaden’s arm away and went back to scanning the street. They were in a quiet residential area, but even on a normal night he’d have expected to see a few people out walking dogs, waiting for a bus, or whatever. Tonight, though, the streets were empty, despite the fact a plane had levelled a big chunk of the city just a dozen blocks away.
“Where is everyone?” he wondered.
“Probably attracted to the plane wreck,” Jaden said. “That’s where I’d go if I were a zombie. Big fire plus dead bodies equals a cooked meal for those guys. It’ll be like a giant barbecue. They’re probably all there playing Frisbee.”
Col shook his head. “There is something seriously wrong with you, Jaden.”
“I know,” Jaden grinned. He stopped outside a neatly-kept garden with its gate wide open. “Now get your game face on, we’re here.”
Col looked the house up and down. The curtains were drawn in every window, and the rooms beyond were in darkness. “What if she’s not there?” he asked.
Jaden blinked, as if that possibility had not even occurred to him. “She’ll be there,” he said. “Maybe one of us should go in the back and one in the front. Co-ordinate it.”
“We’re not freeing hostages,” Col pointed out. “Besides, we might shoot each other when we meet in the middle. Let’s stick together.”
Jaden shrugged. “OK, whatever. We’ll do it your way, so if my mom gets horribly killed, I can totally blame you. Let’s go.”
He darted along the path, then took a detour onto the grass to pull off a forward roll. “What the fuck are you doing?” Col whispered.
“Being awesome,” Jaden told him. He slammed his back against the wall to the right of the door and held the gun in front of his face with both hands. Col stopped just before the step.
“The door’s open,” he said.
Jaden’s smile faded. “What?” he said, leaning around the doorframe. The front door was ajar. Through the narrow gap, Jaden could see the telephone table lying upturned on the floor. He shot Col a worried look, then carefully nudged the door open. “Mom?” he called, hanging back on the step.
They stood listening for a moment, hoping for some reply from within. None came. “You sure she’s in?” Col whispered. “She wasn’t heading out or anything?”
Jaden shook his head. “She’s fifty. She doesn’t go out. Just works, shops and watches
CSI
. She should be home.”
Clutching the guns, they crept quietly into the hallway. The house was silent. Nothing to suggest Jaden’s mom – or anyone else – was home.
“Jaden, look,” said Col. The doorframe had splintered where something had forced it in. Jaden stared at the damaged wood for a few lingering moments, then snapped his head away.
“Mom?” he called, louder this time. “Mom, where are you?”
Something leapt from the shadows on their right, hissing loudly. Startled, Col spun, gun raised. The roar of gunfire almost blew out their eardrums in the narrow hallway. They both jumped back as something white and fluffy hit the carpet between them.
“Holy shit,” said Jaden, looking down. “You shot the cat.”
Col gaped in horror at the twitching mound of bloodied fur at their feet. “Oh Christ. Oh Christ, I am so sorry,” he said.
“You shot Panthro,” said Jaden. “Through the face.”
“It was an accident,” Col insisted. “Total accident. I head a hiss and I panicked and… Oh Christ, Jaden, I’m so sorry.”
The cat spasmed once more, then stopped moving. “Rest now, sweet prince,” Jaden whispered, then he hooked a foot under its body and flicked it out into the garden.
Jaden crossed to the bottom of the stairs. “Mom,” he shouted. “Col just shot Panthro.”
They listened for a reply, but heard nothing. Jaden puffed out his cheeks. “Well, she’s not up there. She’d have reacted to that.”
“Unless, you know, she can’t,” said Col.
“What do you mean?” asked Jaden.
“You know. If she’s… hurt.”
“Why would she be hurt?” Jaden asked. “Don’t be such a morbid bitch.”
Turning away from the stairs, Jaden burst into the front room, gun sweeping for targets. “All clear in here,” he said, beckoning Col into the room. “Wait, what’s this?”
A bright yellow Post-It note was stuck right in the center of the TV screen. Jaden peeled it off and felt a laugh of relief bubble up inside him as he read his mom’s handwriting.
“Called into work,” he read. “Don’t wait up.”