The Alpha Plague (21 page)

He swallowed the hot saliva that rained down his throat and said, “The park is just next to the school. Why didn’t I think of it first? Flynn loves to climb; especially in the park.” He held the bark up. “It’s where he got this from. He told me about it; he climbed as high as he could up the tree and pulled it off. That was a few years back, so I’m sure he can climb much higher now. By the time he leaves primary school, he said he wants to be able to climb so high he can catch the clouds.”

“And you think he managed to get out and make it up there?”

The words hit Rhys like a gut punch and momentarily silenced him. His assertion of a few seconds ago wavered. “I can only hope, Vicky, and as long as I have hope it’s worth going back.”

“But what if he isn’t there?”

For a moment, Rhys couldn’t find the words. He stared at Vicky and ground his jaw. A deep breath released some of his tension. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I know you think it’s the right thing.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow.

“You’re trying to get me familiar with the idea that Flynn’s dead. That’s how we work, isn’t it? Humans, I mean. We set ourselves up for the worse possible scenario so we don’t get our hopes up. We try to feel despair before we know whether we need to or not. First of all, how can I prepare myself for the realisation that my boy’s dead? No amount of thinking it will make me any less devastated if it’s true. I can’t synthesise those feelings before they come to me. Secondly, it’s my boy. If there’s any chance he’s still alive—and until I see his corpse, or him under the twitching and bleeding effect of this virus, then there is a chance—I’m going to hang on to hope. It’s all I have. I’m not giving up until I have to.”

As the pair shot past the front of the school, Rhys pointed at the park next to it. “It’s there; that huge tree in the middle.”

A mob of about twenty diseased had gathered around the foot of the large oak tree. As one, they clawed and grabbed at its trunk. Their inability to climb it showed in their frustrated and pathetic attempts to reach up into the branches. The group only had four or five adults in it. All of the others were children.

Rhys squinted as he looked at the crowd. “Flynn isn’t in that mob.”

“How can you tell?”

It was a fair question. Not only were they quite far away, but the virus added an alien element to its host. The concentrated fury of it turned them into a darker and more horrific version of themselves. Some of them didn’t even look like people anymore. But it didn’t matter how twisted the creatures were; Rhys would know if his boy was there. “I just know.”

Vicky didn’t respond.
 

The summer heat had cooked the car up, and sweat ran from Rhys’ armpits down his side. Better that than open the windows though. On a normal drive, Rhys would have worked out the air conditioning by now. Instead, he leaned forward and stared into the tree. The thick leaves made it hard to see if anyone was up it.
 

“Something’s got them riled up,” Rhys said. “I need you to drive into the park so we can get a better look.”

Vicky’s immediate compliance sent a loud
clunk
through the car when she drove over the curb and onto the grass.
 

“Are you trying to get a flat?” Rhys said.

Vicky ignored him as she sped across the bumpy ground. The car jumped around like a bean on a bass speaker.
 

Rhys stared into the tree. Because he wasn’t looking, when they hit the first diseased kid, the loud
bang
made him jump.
 

As they got closer, Rhys saw something and hope swelled in his chest. It was a small and exposed leg in a pair of shorts. Then he saw a white polo shirt similar to the ones worn by the diseased children that surrounded the base of the tree. Then finally, he saw the wide eyes and pale face of a boy. Of his boy.
 

Grief rushed forward. It nearly both blinded and gagged him. After he’d cleared his throat, Rhys rubbed his eyes. “It’s him, Vicky.” Tears dampened his cheeks and he shook when he said, “It’s Flynn.”

Chapter Forty-Five

With the diseased so intent on Flynn up the tree, none of them bothered with the car as it drove past.
 

Rhys watched them as Vicky drove over to the corner of the park and turned around. Vicky’s impatience manifested when she tapped the steering wheel. “What are we going to do now, Rhys?”

“Is twenty of them too many for us to fight?” he asked. “They’re mostly kids.”

Vicky stopped tapping and looked at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Look,” Vicky said, “I’ll do it as a last resort. He’s your boy, and we’ll get him out of this situation one way or another. Although, I’d rather not go toe to toe with over twenty of them if I can avoid it; who knows how many more will come if we start a fight.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rhys saw a diseased by itself. When he looked at it, he gasped. “A baby.”

“What?”

Rhys pointed at the diseased woman. “Look, that one over there has a baby. It’s not interested in attacking anyone because it’s looking after that thing. It’s like what I saw in the tower. These monsters look out for one another.”
 

As Vicky watched the diseased woman and baby, the colour drained from her face. “It’s fucking tragic what’s happened. Government paranoia turned this conflict into a pissing contest between scientists who have zero empathy. They see the entire world as an experiment without any regard for consequence. They don’t care that they’ve torn families apart.”

While Vicky talked, the plan formed in Rhys’ mind. He kept it to himself; she wouldn’t go for it if he gave her a choice. He grabbed his bat off the back seat. “Wait here.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow at him.
 

Once outside the car, Rhys pushed the door closed as quietly as possible. He took steps toward the woman. They were diseased; they weren’t real people anymore. If he saw them as real, he’d lose the fight. He needed to win for Flynn’s sake.
 

When he got close to the mother, he readied his bat. The mother then turned and looked straight at him. With her dark and bloody eyes fixed on him, she worked her mouth up and down as if to stretch a cramp from her jaw. Then she snarled and hissed. A wounded dog backed into a corner, she just wanted him to stay away. Her tongue, covered in blood, poked forward like a reptile’s, and she pulled her little one in tighter.

Rhys stopped and stared at her.
 

Then he pushed on again.
 

As he got closer, she pulled her baby in and turned her shoulder around the infant so she faced him side on. The thought of it robbed some of the strength from Rhys. Diseased or not, a mother and child stood before him. He knew he couldn’t treat them with that compassion. They didn’t deserve it and their human form probably wouldn’t want it. Rhys would want to be taken down instantly in their situation.
 

She opened her mouth to hiss again, and Rhys swung for her.

Like a puppet having its strings cut, the mother went down and hit the ground hard. The strength of her grip abandoned her and she let go of the infected child. It rolled away from her dead body and fell on its back. Its limbs pistoned out in random directions, but the baby didn’t cry.
 

The taste of bile rose onto the back of Rhys’ tongue as he watched it.

He then leaned down, grabbed one of its chubby ankles, and lifted it from the ground. There may have only been a few teeth in its mouth, but from the way it snapped and bit at the air between them, the little shit knew exactly how to use them.

As Rhys approached the car with the thing at arm’s length, Vicky stared at him, her face slack. She wound the window down. “What the fuck are you doing?”
 

“Don’t confuse this thing for human. It’s one of them, and it’s them against us.”

With a deep frown, Vicky looked from Rhys to the baby and back again.

“Look, I just need you to trust me, okay?”

Vicky continued to watch the baby.
 

“I’m going to get on the roof of the car and bang on it when I want you to move or stop. I need you to drive over to the tree, but much slower this time. You got that?”

She continued to watch the baby.

“I said, have you got that?”

Vicky gulped and nodded.

Chapter Forty-Six

The climb onto the roof proved much harder because of the baby. Its tiny bloody eyes glared hate at him. No matter how small the thing, it wanted to fuck him up. When he was finally up and on his feet, Rhys stamped on the roof. “Remember to drive slowly, Vicky.”

Even at the slow pace, the car shook over the lumpy ground and it threatened to throw Rhys off. With his arms held out for balance, he watched the baby swing like a pendulum from his grip. Its little mouth snapped every time it got close to him.

As they approached the tree, the diseased at the bottom continued to focus on Flynn.
 

Rhys stamped on the top of the car again when they got close, and Vicky came to an abrupt stop.
 

Everything moved in slow motion. Rhys’ foot caught beneath the blue strip light that sat on the top of the car, and he fell. He reached out to soften his landing, which brought the baby closer. The ravenous little demon swung so near to his face that the castanet
click
of its teeth snapped in Rhys’ ear.
 

When Rhys hit the roof of the car, he rolled onto his back and lifted the baby away from him. He kept it at arm’s length. The fall had instilled a new vigour in the horrible thing. It writhed and snapped with more ferocity than before. So close to tasting blood, it seemingly couldn’t bear it.
 

Rhys got to his feet again, and the baby chewed at the air between them. He turned to the diseased beneath the tree. “Oi, you horrible bastards, look at me. I have one of you now.”

As one unit—one mind—the pack turned and stared at Rhys. The usual expressions of hate locked their faces, but they quickly vanished when they saw the baby. Concern wrinkled brows and their aggression vanished.

Rhys swung the baby back and forth. He felt like a cruel older brother holding his sister’s doll hostage. The diseased’s eyes followed it like dogs on a stick—that’s all the baby was: an inanimate object to be used as a toy. This thing wasn’t human and didn’t deserve to be treated as such.

The strength drained from his body as if his muscles questioned his actions. The little thing was a monster—nothing more. Rhys took a deep breath and pushed through it. He then yelled and launched the small child.
 

Bloody eyes stared, dark mouths hung open, and then, as one, the diseased chased it.
 

Another stamp on the roof and Vicky pulled toward the tree.

The bright sun shone into Rhys’ eyes, and he had to shield his vision to see when he looked up. “Flynn, it’s me. Daddy. You need to come down now, mate, before they come back.”

For a moment, Flynn stared at Rhys and shook his head.
 

“Come on, we can’t hang around. We’ve got to get out of here, now.”

Flynn shook his head again, but he didn’t speak.
 

A glance to the side showed the diseased gathered around the baby. “If you don’t jump now, you’ll die. We’ll all die. Come on, Flynn.”

When his little boy lowered one of his legs, Rhys saw the shake that ran through it. His heart tensed when he saw the dark patch that had spread around his crotch from where he’d pissed himself.

“That’s it, you’re doing really well.”

The small black plimsoll found a foothold as Flynn got closer to his dad. Some of the diseased looked their way. Rhys’ heart raced, but he tried to keep his voice even. “You’re doing well, Flynn, but we need to speed it up a little, mate.”

Flynn bit his lip in concentration and sped up.
 

Then Rhys heard it and it ran shards of frigidity down his spine… the primitive call from a diseased. It turned his entire body to gooseflesh and his pulse ran away from him. “Jump!” he said. “Jump now, Flynn.”

Flynn slipped from the tree and landed in Rhys’’ arms just as the pack ran toward them.

With a hard stamp on the roof, Rhys shouted, “Go, go, go, go.”

As the sound of a stampede rushed forward, Vicky revved the engine hard and Rhys dropped down so he and his boy were crouched on top of the car.
 

A couple of hands slapped at the boot as it shot away, but none got any closer than that.
 

As they moved over the bumpy ground of the park, Rhys pulled Flynn in tight. With his little boy in his arms, Rhys sobbed like he’d never sobbed before.

Chapter Forty-Seven

When Vicky stopped the car, Rhys pulled out of the protective hug he’d wrapped his boy in; a glance around made it seem clear to him. “Come on, mate, let’s get in.”

Flynn sat up and hugged himself. It did little to stop him from shivering.
 

Rhys rubbed his back before Flynn looked down at where he’d wet himself.
 

Rhys dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about
that; Vicky won’t care. We’ll get you a change of clothes en route.”

The screams of the diseased rang through the air behind them. They hadn’t given up yet. After Rhys slipped off the roof, he held his arms out to Flynn. “Come on, we need to hurry this up.”

The roof bent and popped as Flynn walked across it and jumped down.
 

The second they closed the back doors, Vicky hit the gas and they sped off.

***

Everything had worked out. Rhys had his boy and a new lady in his life—so what if it had taken the end of the world for a woman to be interested in him again?
 

They had to pass Summit City on their way to The Highlands, but it would be behind them soon and they’d be home free. When Flynn squirmed, Rhys relaxed his hug on him. It was hard to let go after he’d pined for his touch for so long.

Rhys placed a kiss on top of his boy’s head and breathed in his smell. “I thought I’d lost you, mate. Then I held the piece of bark you’d painted and varnished for me, and I knew you were all right. I just knew it.”