Salby Damned (2 page)

She didn’t respond. She’d left the Suzi, practically sliding from the seat and collapsed to her knees, placing her face in her hands. Her head shook gently from side to side while her shoulders juddered uncontrollably as she sobbed, struggling to believe what she’d just witnessed. Nathan walked towards her, turning part way to make sure Chief Garrett hadn’t moved.
Still there
. As he reached Evie, he bent, placing his hands under her elbows and lifting her to him, pulling her close to his chest.

“Evie,” he said softly in her ear, “are you alright, are you hurt, can you move?”

“Wuh, wuh, wuh, what in the hell is going on here?” she managed to sob.

“Honey, I don’t know. What I do know is that we’re not safe here, and we need to leave now. If there are any more like the girl and Garrett, then we’re sitting ducks the longer we hang around here. We’re best not to take any chances, given what we’ve just seen.”

“We’re screwed!” she mumbled. Her tone was a mixture of hysteria coupled with outright fear.

“No, no, we’re not. We’re still alive and I plan on staying that way for a while yet. Now get in the Jeep, lock the doors, and stay out of sight. I’m going to check the site office and see if I can get a handle on what’s going on here,” he said. He kissed her forehead before closing the car door behind her, signalling through the glass and waiting for the locks to engage.

***

Nathan walked slowly towards the site office, scanning the outbuildings and surrounding tree line as he headed for the open office door. He peered around, hoping it was empty; luckily, it was. The small portakabin had an open plan, a couple of desks with laptop computers, bundles of plans, papers, and schematic drawings, and mounted on the wall, a fire extinguisher hung next to a first aid kit. He took the first aid kit and the laptops, not for the monetary value but for the data they might hold, and as many of the plans as he could fold up, shoved under his arm.

Now leaving the site office, not wanting to push his luck any further, he approached the body of Brin Garrett, the axe-handle now vertical. He placed the items he’d taken on the ground, put his right foot on Garrett’s forehead, and gripped both hands around the hickory handle of the axe. It had sunk deep, and Nathan had to move it from side to side, hearing Garrett’s jaw bone crack, to allow enough give to free the axe; it might come in useful given the turn of events, he thought.

Picking up the items, he returned to the Suzi, knocking on the window as he drew closer. Evelyn tensed up as he waved through the glass to reassure her.

“Open the locks, Evie.” The doors clicked unlocked, and he loaded up the rear before slamming it shut again.

“Do you have your phone on you? Can you pass me my camera from the passenger footwell too?” he asked.

“Did you find anyone alive in there? Who do you want to call?”

“Not me, Evie, you. Will you make a call to the local police and tell them what we have seen? Warn them to come prepared. Someone should know what to do. I’m gonna get a picture of Garrett, the girl, and the damage to the wellhead if I can get close enough, then we’re leaving. Honk the horn if you see anything moving. I won’t be very long. As yet, I’ve seen no other survivors, which doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

He headed back to the fallen bodies, firstly, that of the young girl. Looking at her tiny body filled his soul with sorrow

What had happened to her to bring her here?

The blow from Garrett had caught her with such force that it had snapped her neck, vertebrae, and spinal cord instantly; mercifully, she would have been dead when she hit the ground. He looked closer at the body, photographing from every angle before turning towards Garrett and again rattling off multiple shots from all positions and then noticed something really quite bizarre. There was no blood. From the wound he had inflicted with the axe, there was no blood at all. At the point of entry, there was only a black, jelly-like substance with no spatter and no droplets; just the jelly-like goo at the wound.

***

Back at the Jeep, Evie thought about making a call to the police.

What would she say? That she had been told of an industrial accident? Had come to take a look and ran into half-dead zombies who had attacked them? They would surely think she had lost the plot, would ask her if she’d been drinking or taken any drugs. No, she would call and tell them she had seen something suspicious at the wellhead, kids messing about maybe. They would likely send a patrol, and it would escalate from there.

Evelyn dialled and on answer, the emergency operator went through the motions: Her name, location, and which service, please; then connected her to the nearest local police station, which she thought would be Leeds. As the ringing tone echoed in her ear, she saw something move ahead of her, only a glimpse, but she was sure something moved.

She hung up the phone and strained at the windscreen, trying to see through the traffic film and dust covering the glass, peering until her nose almost touched the screen. Without warning, the car shook and she screamed. Glaring back at her was a pair of cold, dead, black eyes, totally emotionless. What used to be a man glared back at her in tattered dirt-stained overalls, the stone grey tinge of his face catching the first rays of morning sun.

The newcomer mounted the bonnet and pounded the roof with fists and feet, oblivious to any pain. Evie hit the horn and sidled from the passenger seat to the driver’s side, and grasped at the ignition keys as panic set in. She blasted the horn once more, trying to grip the keys to start the engine, finally managing to turn the starter and allowing the old diesel engine to cough into life. The half-dead thing atop the bonnet began to kick at the windscreen, teeth bared in a wild grimace.

Evie slammed the car into reverse and punched the accelerator to the floor, popping the clutch as the car lurched backwards, sending her assailant spinning into the ground. She hit the brakes, slammed into first, and floored it, changing gears a moment before the two-tonne Jeep ploughed into the prone man.

She felt the thump, thump as the wheels ran over him. In her panicked state, she almost hit the side of a storage hut. Skidding to a halt, she checked the rear-view mirror; unbelievably, the creature still lived and attempted to sit up. The weight of the car must have broken its legs, but it still had intentions of coming after her.

Evie pulled the gearstick to her right and back hard, and the car juddered as it once again found reverse gear. She pushed her foot down as far as it would go, the wheels spinning up dust as they fought for traction, before finally biting and catapulting the car backwards as it slammed into the creature’s head.

The weight of the four-by-four, complete with tow bar, hit the struggling form and imploded the face of the prone attacker, dragging the body beneath the car as the tow bar embedded into his skull. The car careered backwards, coming to a halt, having rammed up and over a log barrier guarding a drainage ditch. The body beneath the car came to rest, bent over the log, wedged in by the weight of the Jeep. Evie didn’t wait for any movement. She engaged first and powered forward, back over the log, dislodging the now dead man and putting distance between her and it.

Coming to a stop just a few yards from the site hut, she hit the horn with such force that it hurt her hand. She kept up the noise until she saw Nathan running towards her. She opened the passenger door from the inside and yelled, almost hysterically, “Get in!!!!”

Nathan didn’t argue. Evie hit the gas before he could even close his door, which clunked shut from the inertia as the car raced for the track road exit.

“Evie, slow down! This car isn’t like yours. What happened?” he asked. He clutched the side of his seat as the big old Jeep bounced over the rutted track road at speed. Evie kept going until she made the main road, only backing off the power to slow for the exit. She tried to speak but nothing ventured out of her mouth.

“I ... he ... I …”

Her knuckles were pure white as she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“It’s okay. We’re safe now. Pull over,” urged Nathan. He spoke in as calm a voice as he could manage, given her speed.

Evie brought the car to a halt, the engine spluttering to silence. She began to shake. Tears formed in her eyes, and when Nathan leant over towards her, she practically fell into him, squeezing him tightly as she sobbed. After a few minutes, she pulled away and began to tell what had happened. Her voice faltered at first, recalling the creature she had seen and killed.

***

There were many questions that Nathan couldn’t answer, but he listened to her until she had nothing left to tell. He pulled her close and held her awhile, until she regained her composure. Evie focused on the rhythm of Nathan’s heartbeat in her ear; it seemed to calm her, and the security of his arms chased away the images that refused to leave her mind.

Finally, Nathan spoke softly and his measured tone added to a sense of safety.

Maybe Evie could be safe with him, outside of the now?

“We’ll head for my place, pick up supplies, and stay away from the towns until we know how widespread this has become. We’ll be fairly secluded there for a little while, and it will give us a chance to examine the papers and laptops that I took from the site. Trade places. I’ll drive.”

Evie nodded in approval and then remained silent for the entire ten-mile journey. She tried to remove images of that thing from her mind or to find any rationale–but there was none, no sense to it at all. Nathan drove cautiously back to his house. In the distance, in the direction of the town, they could see plumes of smoke rising. It became clear that whatever had taken over the men and the girl at the wellhead was quickly spreading to the surrounding areas. Approaching his home, Nathan spoke softly, searching her eyes as he did. Was she really okay?

“We’re here. I could use a hand with the stuff in the back, Evie.”

*******

His home was a rural smallholding, consisting of the central farmhouse with one outbuilding, set in about four acres and surrounded by high old oaks and coniferous trees. The main house was two storeys with old-world wooden window frames that looked like they could do with a fresh coat of paint. Climber plants had made their home high up the end wall, with signs of penetrating the roof. Uneven cobblestone bricks suggested an ancient building and the chimneystack on the far end was no longer vertical.

They took the items from the boot, leaving the axe where it was for now. They headed to the front door, which was a two-stage split opening type, the key unlocking the top half and allowing access to the bolted lower section. Nathan set the maps and plans down on the kitchen table, placing the liberated first aid kit next to them. Evie followed behind slowly, allowing time for her eyes to adjust to the stark low light of the kitchen. She placed both laptops next to the plans and stared at them.

“Evie,” he said gently, “you alright? How ‘bout I make us a drink? Make yourself at home. The bathroom is up the stairs there, first on the right, if you need it. Would you like tea, coffee, or something a little stronger?”

He smiled, trying to take her mind off the wellhead events.

“I, I need to use the bathroom first. Do you have vodka?” she said, so quietly that Nathan struggled to hear. Surprised by the request, he moved to retrieve two small tumblers from the cupboard over the counter.

***

Meanwhile, Evie made her way up the creaking stairs to the bathroom. Nathan heard the water sloshing into the deep washbasin and remembered that it had been a while since he’d had a good clean-up. He’d bought the small farmhouse and surrounding land with his wife Katelyn ten years ago, almost to the day, having moved from London to escape the fast paced city life.

Working as a Commodities Advisor for an investment bank group had meant long hours, though the rewards had been great; a good salary and some wise investments had secured a modest income for the rest of his life. The economy back then was much stronger, and he’d been fortunate to leave before the house of cards began to crumble. They had looked for a rural place together; it was to be their retreat with a view to raising a family, but fate had a different agenda.

Katelyn had been a designer, working mainly in the fashion industry. She’d been in charge of lucrative high-end fashion lines and surprisingly with the Ministry of Defence also. They were both busy, active people who had found each other against all odds. She had captured his heart and mind after only a few weeks of dating, Nathan recalled. They had married exactly two years after their first encounter, on a beautiful summer’s morning in the local church. There had been a small, select group of friends, colleagues, and family present.

It had been the best day that he could remember, and God alone knew how much he had loved her. The farmhouse had needed quite a bit of work when they took it on. So, together on weekends off, they would work to make this old house theirs. Nathan loved the creative female touches that Katelyn incorporated into the décor; she was vibrant, full of life.

***

In late November, three years ago, on a water-drenched stretch of road heading back to the farm, Katelyn’s car had come face to face with a vehicle driven by a new driver. With the weather conditions, the inexperienced youngster had been travelling too fast and, no doubt, showing off to the two friends in the car with him. With no room to pass, Katelyn had veered to her left. The oncoming car struck the driver’s front quarter, peeling back the bodywork from the chassis and shearing the engine mounts, sending the car rolling side over side for almost fifty yards, Katelyn died and, Nathan hoped, instantly. He couldn’t process the thought of her trapped and suffering.

The other car bounced from the impact, hitting a solid old oak and was, even then, travelling in excess of forty miles per hour, the crash investigators had said. Two of the three lads in the other vehicle were also killed, and the driver died at the scene an hour later, despite the best attempts of the medics to save him. It had been such a tragic waste of life.

In that instant, Nathan’s perfect world had disintegrated into a million pointless fragments. It would take many sleepless nights and many empty bottles to come to terms with his loss.

Nathan poured two good-sized shots of vodka into the glasses he’d fetched, downed one, and refilled it, troubled memories of that time momentarily allowed to the fore. The alcohol made its fiery descent into his empty stomach, snapping his thoughts back to the present.

Upstairs, Evie stared blankly at the mirror over the basin, searching for some sort of answer. She ran the cold water, waiting until the tepid stream had been replaced by a much cooler flow. Cupping her hands and leaning over, she pulled water up to press into her face. The coolness of the liquid made her gasp, kick starting her senses once more. She dried her face using a towel that smelled faintly of shaving foam, being sure to fold it neatly and replace it on the towel rail, before heading back downstairs.

“There you are,” Nathan said. He smiled as Evie tentatively peeked around the corner.

“Here, get this down you, it’ll put a fire in your gut for sure,” he added. He passed her the shot glass, and Evie instinctively took it with her right hand.

You’re a righty, good to know. Lefties are much harder to work with.

“What are we going to do?” she asked boldly. After slugging the vodka, her voice became stronger now, as if the spirit had given back her lost courage.

Nathan unfolded the plans from the site office and laid them out onto the table. He then rifled through the bundle of files hoping to strike it lucky, but they were mostly invoices for materials, progress schedules, and what appeared to be some sort of register. Upon further inspection, it became clear that the register was a file of the employees contracted to work on the site, the shift patterns, and various block charts relating to productivity against cost.

“Take a look through these, Evie, and see if you can find out what they had been doing at the wellhead, how many people were on shift at the time of the incident, and any information relating to Salby. I’m going to fire up those laptops and see what they can tell us,” he said. He perched on a chunky wooden chair, pulling it closer to the first machine on the table.

He pushed the button to start the computer, which, after a while, flashed the SGFC company logo before the mouse pointer settled mid-screen, opposite desktop saved file folders. They’d been lucky as there had been no password set. Double-clicking on the files revealed charts, graphs, and statistical data, none of which made a great deal of sense to Nathan. However, one such file contained an outlined underground survey of the town of Salby. He studied the plan, noticing that at the very edge of the town, the detailed depth and composite information had no entries logged; very strange, he thought.

At the wellhead, the same file listed soil sample recordings at various depths, analytical data of substances found, and deep well extraction sample data. There were also charts with recommendations for directional exploration to follow. Yet, underneath the town itself, no data had been collected or, if it had, it wasn’t there to be seen. He tried searching the laptop for hidden file folders but found none. Puzzled by his findings, he turned to Evie.

“Have you found anything yet?”

Evie looked up from the register. “It was B Shift working when the wellhead exploded, and in all, 120 men and women, mostly surface-based on duty. They’d been pumping chemicals into the wellhead to fracture the rock, along with high-pressure water jetting. According to the town plans here, they had bored down to around one mile before heading west at ninety degrees, towards the town boundary.” Evie followed the entries with her finger, picking up the next point.

”The last log entry I can find was at the beginning of the shift at midnight last night. It shows that a two-mile tunnel had been cut horizontally through the rock, releasing evidence of some shale gas, which had been stored for purity testing. The plans indicate a seam of gas pockets in the general direction of the tunnel, going towards the town boundary, which is where they must have reached by the time of the explosion.” Nathan nodded his understanding of the information before offering some of his own.

“I can find no records on this laptop that show surveys under the town. Yet here”—he paused, tapping his finger on the open site map—“at the wellhead site, there are tons of files and figures, even soil sample references. Why would they blatantly drill into an area that hadn’t been surveyed?”

Nathan stood and made his way to the TV to turn it on. Maybe there would be a news report that could shed more light, or at least confirm that someone had reported the initial explosion, he thought.

“Did you manage to get through to the police before the attack, Evie?”

She looked straight at him. Fear of the event recall filled her eyes. Nathan regretted asking the question; the memory clearly haunted her.

“I, I made the call, had been transferred to the local police station, but the phone just kept ringing. It, that thing, came at the car while I was waiting for an answer,” she said, visibly shaken.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. Are you hungry? I could rustle up some food,” he asked. He was consciously steering the conversation to new ground and paying attention to the grumbling sounds coming from his own stomach.

They continued to sift through the files and maps whilst eating hastily made sandwiches, learning more about the operation up to the point where the fracking operation had met the town boundary. After that, the trail went cold.

In the background, the local news bulletin flashed up old images of the wellhead site. It reported that “an incident” had occurred in the early hours of this morning. No other information was given, which meant that the authorities were now aware of the explosion and had probably blocked press reports for the time being. In a perverse way, it was comforting to know that those in power would now be aware of what had happened; the full scale of the event had yet to break.

***

Nathan went into a small study office from which he used to work. Just inside the door, he turned, reaching over the doorframe and pulling down a long, zipped case. He took it back to the kitchen and laid it over the sprawling collection of maps and files. He moved to the drawers of the kitchen unit and slid open the top one, his right hand emerging with a small cardboard box.

“What’s that? What are you going to do?” Evie asked, looking intently at the long, narrow case.

He pulled the zip on the case, flipping over the side section to reveal a sleek long rifle, silenced with a large telescopic sight mounted. Evie took a step backwards.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you with this. We need some protection here, that’s all. I’m going to rig the farm with a few devices that will hopefully get us through the night. Tomorrow, we’ll need to go out for supplies, but I think tonight we’re better off staying put. Can you shoot? Have you ever fired a weapon?”

“N-no, I really don’t like guns,” she replied, still nervously eyeing up the rifle.

Nathan made his way to a small pantry door in the corner of the kitchen, pushed it open, and, clicking the light on inside, momentarily disappeared from view, returning with what looked like another gun.

“Christ! Nate, just how many of these bloody things do you have?”

“I do a bit of hunting from time to time. Come on, a short sharp lesson in weapon skills, whether you like guns or not. If one of those things comes at you, I may not be there to stop it. At least if you know how to use this,” he said, tapping the stock of the Remington gently, “then you’ll stand a chance of being able to defend yourself should the situation require it. Come on, out to the back yard.”

She thought about the creature that had attacked her in the Jeep, recalling the rage and ferocity of its actions and then, spurred on by an involuntary shiver that overcame her, she followed Nathan outside.

“How do I use it?” she asked, with stronger resolve.

Nathan loaded shells from the box and then took his stance, telling her how best to spread her feet for a standing shot, emphasising the need to keep the gun gripped tightly in against her body because of the recoil of the shotgun when firing. He handed her the weapon, allowing her to become comfortable with the feel, weight and style and watched as she copied his stance, fortunately they were both right handed, which made it easier for Nathan to teach her the basics.

She gripped the shotgun, replaying what she had been told; it was heavier than she thought it would be. The cold steel handle and composite-material grip and shoulder piece was shorter than the double barrel type she had seen in films. Evie felt comforted by Nathan’s gentle touch. His hands lightly turned her shoulders, and he gave soft but assertive instructions in her ear. Bracing, she shouldered the Remington, taking aim just below the metal watering can placed in the centre of the open yard,and, with her stomach cart-wheeling, her finger hooked around the trigger.

Nathan leaned inwards, his lips close to her ear, and whispered, “Relax and steady your breathing. The gun is going to kick like a mule and sound like a cannon, so be prepared for it, Evie, and remember to try to squeeze the trigger gently, don’t pull on it. It helps you to keep a straighter aim by doing that, whenever you’re ready.”