The Bug: Complete Season One (20 page)
Jaden stretched on his tiptoes and peered in through the darkened window of what he sincerely hoped was an empty house.
After Mike had made off with the train, Jaden, Col, the new girl, Amy, and Jaden’s mom, Amanda, had spent several minutes arguing over the best course of action, before deciding by a majority vote that they should find somewhere to hole up for the night.
Col’s arm was bleeding from where he’d been bitten back in Boston, Amy was still dazed from having her car smashed to pieces by the train, and Amanda… well, Amanda’s legs weren’t what they used to be, and walking through the night wasn’t something that really appealed to her, if she were being honest.
Only Jaden had been keen to keep moving, yet here he was, drawing the short straw again, being forced to check the house wasn’t filled with zombies – yes, he still saw no reason to call them anything else, despite Col’s protests – and make sure it was safe for them to take shelter in.
Still, Amy – the girl they’d pulled from the wreckage – was fairly hot, and bravely taking the lead like this was bound to make him look pretty damned desirable, he reckoned.
“Looks OK,” he said. He rapped his knuckles loudly on the glass. Behind him, he heard Col hiss in shock.
“What are you doing? If someone’s inside, they’ll hear you.”
“That’s pretty much the point,” Jaden said. “If they start trying to smash the window with their face, we’ll know not to go in.”
Half-hidden behind the garden shed, Col opened his mouth to argue, realized he couldn’t really fault Jaden’s logic, and so closed it again.
Inside the house, the darkness remained perfectly still.
“I think we’re OK,” Jaden said. He tossed a brightly-colored garden gnome from one hand to the other, getting used to the weight of it. As weapons went, it wasn’t great. That asshole Mike had taken their guns, though, so they had to make do with what was available, and what was available right now was a grinning garden ornament with a cheerful red hat.
Holding the gnome poised and ready to swing in his right hand, Jaden slowly reached for the door handle with his left.
“Careful,” said his mom.
Jaden jumped. “Fuck. Don’t do that,” he snapped. He shot Amanda an accusing glare, waited for her to nod her understanding, then reached for the handle again.
He pressed it down quickly, then jumped back, gnome raised. The door remained closed.
He tried the handle again. “Locked,” he announced.
“Damn,” said Col. “What do we do? Try a different house?”
“Break the glass,” Amy suggested, pointing to the door.
Jaden looked the frost-effect window up and down. With a shrug, he hurled the gnome at it. The gnome shattered instantly, then fell in pieces onto the step. The glass, however, remained completely intact.
“Well, so much for that plan,” said Jaden, then he ducked, avoiding a rock that whistled past him. The glass shattered, and Amy thrust her hand in through the gap it left. With a
clunk
, the door unlocked. Amy pulled it open, peered briefly into the gloom, then stepped inside.
Jaden hesitated, then smoothed down the front of his shirt. “Mom, be on the lookout for a new hat,” he said. “I’m going to marry that girl.”
“No, you’re not,” came the reply from inside.
Jaden nodded smugly. “Totally am,” he mouthed, silently, then he followed Amy inside.
***
Col flexed his fingers. The wound on his forearm smarted, but it looked worse than it actually was. At least, that’s what he kept insisting.
“It isn’t infected,” he said. “It’s just a bite. Just a normal, non-zombie bite. I’m not going to turn into anything.”
Jaden and Amy leaned over the table where Col’s arm was resting. Jaden bent low to peer more closely at the wound. “Jesus. What’s that green stuff?” he asked.
“What green stuff?” Col gasped, pulling his arm up to look. He caught Jaden’s grin and had to fight the urge to punch him. “You asshole!”
“Still reckon we should amputate,” Jaden said. “Better safe than sorry.”
“You’re not cutting my arm off,” Col sighed.
Jaden put his hands on his hips. “Well, that is a
very
selfish attitude,” he said. “If you turn, you’ll put every one of us in danger. The least you could do is let me chop your arm off.”
“No.”
“Below the elbow, I mean. We’re not talking shoulder. I’m not a monster.”
“Shut up, Jaden,” Col said.
Jaden shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I still think you’re being very selfish, Columbo.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. “Columbo?”
Col sagged in his chair as Jaden’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes!” Jaden crowed. He cleared his throat, like a great orator preparing to deliver a speech. “You’d be forgiven for thinking that ‘Col’ stood for ‘Colin’ or… I don’t know, ‘Colchester’ or something…”
“Colchester?” said Amy.
“Or something,” said Jaden. “But you’d be wrong.”
He made a show of presenting Col, like a gameshow host showing off the star prize. “Introdcing the one and only Columbo TJ Quincy Swanson.”
Col gave a sheepish wave. “Hi.”
“His mom was addicted to TV cop shows of the late 70s and early 80s,” Jaden explained.
Amy frowned. “Jesus,” she said, shooting Col a look of pity usually reserved for people with terminal cancer. “But hold on, Quincy wasn’t a cop, he was a doctor or something. Wasn’t he?”
“A Forensic Pathologist,” Jaden said. “But solved more cases than all the cops who appeared on the show combined, so same difference, far as Ma Swanson’s concerned. Mind you, it’s his sisters you have to feel really sorry for.”
“Oh?”
Jaden nodded. “Cagney and Lacey.”
“Shut the Hell up,” said Amy.
“Don’t listen to him,” said Col. “I don’t have any sisters. He makes that joke every time.”
“Because it’s an excellent joke,” said Jaden.
“Oh. Right. So you’re name’s not Columbo, then?” Amy asked.
Col shifted on the hard kitchen chair. “Well, I mean, yeah, that part’s true. I just don’t have sisters. He made that part up.”
Amy nodded. “Columbo,” she said, rolling the word around in her mouth as if she were tasting it. “Col-um-bo.” Eventually, she smiled down at Col, and Col instinctively smiled back. “I like it. It’s cool.”
“It’s
Cool
umbo,” said Jaden. “Boom!” He held up a hand for a high-five, but no-one was forthcoming with one. “No?” He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He turned away from the table and headed for the refrigerator, blinking as the glow of the light cast an orange sheen across the kitchen. “Anyone hungry?” he asked.
“Yeah, starving,” said Col.
Amy nodded. “I could eat.”
“Then you’re shit out of luck,” said Jaden, pushing the door wide to reveal shelves that were almost bare. “Bitch’s fridge is like Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.”
“Well, what about the cupboards? Check those,” Amy suggested.
“Hey, lady, you’re not the boss of me,” Jaden said, but he turned and started searching through the kitchen cabinets anyway.
Amy sat on the chair across the table from Col. He was trying without much luck to wrap his bandage back over his wound. “Want a hand with that?” Amy asked.
Col looked up at her in surprise. “Uh, yeah. That’d be great. It’s pretty gross, though.”
“I have a little brother, I’m pretty used to gross,” Amy said, then the significance of what she’d said hit her. She took both ends of Col’s soiled bandage in her suddenly trembling hands. “Had,” she whispered.
“Oh. Sorry,” said Col. “Want to, you know, like talk about it?”
Amy shook her head. “Definitely not,” she said.
Col blew out his cheeks. “That’s a relief. No idea what you’re meant to say in those situations.”
Amy smiled half-heartedly, then took a moment to compose herself. “Do you know what’s happening? What’s making everyone act so crazy?”
“Noodles,” announced Jaden. Amy wasn’t sure what answer she’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that one. She and Col looked round to find Jaden holding up two packs of instant noodles. “Curry or Bacon flavor. Any preference?”
Amy stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Neither, really,” she said.
Jaden studied the packets. “Yeah. The best before is, like, two years ago.” He tossed the packets onto the counter. “I’ll keep looking.”
Amy returned to tying up Col’s bandage. “It’s going to sound really crazy,” Col said. “But we think everyone’s being turned into…”
“Zombies,” chimed Jaden.
“Whatever they are,” said Col, “by these sort of…”
“Bugs?” Amy asked.
Col nodded. “Yeah. Exactly. By bugs.”
“I saw them,” said Amy. “My dad… he mentioned seeing them, too, right before he started to act… You know, to act…”
“On Broadway?” Jaden suggested.
“Shut up, Jaden,” Col sighed. He reached across the table and squeezed Amy’s hand. “You OK?”
Amy beamed, but her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “Hell of a day,” was all she managed to squeak through her tightening throat.
She and Col sat in silence. Even Jaden paused in his quest for food. “It’s going to get sorted out,” Col said. “The government or whatever, they’re going to send in the army. It’s going to get sorted out.”
“I doubt that,” said Jaden. “This is end of the world scenario stuff. Far as we know, this is everywhere, not just Massachusetts. Whole country’s probably affected. Whole world, maybe.”
Col shot him a scowl. “That’s not helping, Jaden.”
“I’m fine,” said Amy. She sniffed noisily, and this seemed to center her again. “Better we know the truth than don’t. If help’s not coming, then I guess we deal with that. Somehow.” She looked between them. “Where were you going? You know, when you smashed my tiny car to pieces with your huge train?”
Col smiled. “New York,” he said. “My parents are there. Somewhere.”
“You were taking the train all the way to New York?” Amy asked.
“Yeah, until that asshole Mike stole it,” Jaden said. “He must’ve been watching my mom when she…”
His voice trailed off. He looked around the kitchen, as if only just seeing it for the first time. “Hey, now I come to think about it,” he said. “Where the Hell
is
my mom?”
Hoon slurped down a mouthful of tea so brown it was almost black, then turned away from the window to face the rest of the group. They were all gathered in the kitchen - Daniel and Marshall studying the instructions on the tin of baby milk formula, Leanne pacing with a whimpering Immy, and Moira wiping squidgy bits of dog off the butt of her gun.
“So, hang on, we put four scoops of powder into the bottle…” Marshall looked up in horror. “Wait, bottles! We didn’t get bottles!”
“I did,” said Daniel. He rummaged in a box and pulled out a pack of three plastic baby bottles. “Here.”
“OK, so we put four scoops…” Marshall read again. “Scoops. What does it mean by ‘scoops’? How big’s a scoop?”
Hoon set his tea down and sighed. He snatched the pack of bottles from Daniel and tore them open. “The scoop’s inside the fucking tin. You’ll need to sterilize these first.”
Daniel blinked. “Sterilize them?”
“Aye. To kill any germs.”
“We didn’t get a sterilizer. Did we?” Daniel said.
Marshall shook his head. “I didn’t know we needed one. Did they have one?”
“Boil the kettle and fill them with hot water for a bit,” Hoon instructed. He thrust the open pack back at Daniel, who fumbled with it, then got to work filling the kettle.
Hoon crossed to Leanne and peered down at Immy. Her eyes were puffy and her face was red from crying. “What’s that sweetheart?” Hoon whispered. “They’re a pair of useless fannies? I know.”
He turned back to Marshall and Daniel, then jabbed a thumb in Immy’s direction. “Hear that? Out of the mouth of fucking babes.”
“Oh, stop trying to show off!” Moira snorted. She finished polishing the end of her shotgun, then set it down on the table. She held her arms out. “Come and give your big sister a hug.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Hoon stepped closer and embraced his sister. “By God, you’ve got fat,” she said when they stepped apart again. She placed a thumb on his cheek and pulled his bottom eyelid down. “You look awful.”
“Aye, well, cheers for that,” said Hoon, pulling away. “It’s been a long night.”
“What’s it like out there now?” Leanne asked.
Hoon puffed out his acne-scarred cheeks. He’d met just one group of people on the way up the road, and had killed or maimed two thirds of them. He remembered the taste of the blood in his mouth and took another gulp of his tea.
“It’s no’ what I was expecting,” he said. “I mean, I thought it’d be wall-to-wall wi’ violent bampots, but I didn’t really see anyone.”
“Same here,” said Marshall. “One or two, but that was it. Hundred miles and virtually no bugger to be seen. No cars coming the opposite direction, nothing.”
“Well, that’s to be expected,” Hoon said. “You’d have to be pretty fucking suicidal to head for the city.” He drained his mug and let out an ‘aaah’ of satisfaction.
“Did you see any bodies?” Daniel asked.
Hoon shook his head, pushing back the image of the teenager dying on the road in front of him with his throat ripped out. “No.”
“Neither did we. Not one. Not on the road, in the cars… Nowhere. Isn’t that weird?” Daniel said. “We thought maybe someone had moved them all, or…” He glanced around the kitchen. “They got up and moved about by themselves.”
“Like zombies?” said Leanne.
“Nonsense!” scoffed Moira. “You’ve been watching too many horror movies, young man. In future, stick to the porn.”
“OK, fine, so if not that, then where did they go?” Daniel asked.
The kettle rolled to a boil and Immy erupted into a fresh wave of tears before anyone could answer. Leanne bounced her, but the effort of holding her for so long was starting to take its toll.
“Fancy taking her for a bit?” she asked Hoon. “My arms are knackered.”
“Aye, no bother,” said Hoon. He reached out for the baby, then stopped when he felt something stirring inside his head. It was barely a breath of a whisper, but it was there. “I mean, eh, no’ right now. Get one of this lot to take over for a bit. I’m away for a pish.”
He half ran, half staggered out of the room and through the bungalow, trying to remember where the bathroom was. It had been years since he’d come up to visit, but Moira clearly hadn’t bothered her arse decorating in all that time. The carpets were worn and matted with dog hair, the whitewashed woodchip on the walls was peeling at the seams, and the whole place was in dire need of a tidy up.
He stumbled through the only door which would make any sort of sense to be the bathroom, and found a utility room lurking behind it instead. Muttering below his breath, he turned and tried another two doors, before finally finding the one he was looking for.
Hurrying inside, he fumbled for the lock, discovered there wasn’t one, then turned to the sink and twisted the cold tap all the way open. His hands trembled as he scooped up the water and splashed it across his face. He looked up and met his eyes in the bathroom mirror, and for a moment almost didn’t recognize them. A hairline crack on the glass distorted his face, splitting it in two from top to bottom. Hoon stared at the two halves in turn, watching as the water drip-drip-dripped from his chin and the end of his nose.
There was a whisper, soft and faint, somewhere at the edge of his hearing. Hoon turned on the hot tap, too, trying to drown the whispers out.
“I’m not listening to you,” he muttered, glaring at his reflection like he could overpower it through force of will alone. “I am not fucking listening.”
There was a knocking at the door. He didn’t look. Didn’t move. “What?”
“Uh, sir, it’s me. It’s Martin.”
“What do you want?” Hoon demanded. His jaw was so tightly clamped together that the words came out as a hiss.
“It’s the bottle. For the baby. How cool does it need to be?”
Hoon’s fingers tightened on the edges of the sink. “What the fuck are you asking me for?”
There was a pregnant pause from beyond the door. “Just… your sister said you had a kid. A son. Thought you might know.”
Hoon blinked. His grip relaxed. He felt a dull ache around his back teeth as his jaw unclenched.
“Room temperature,” he said, shutting off the taps and straightening up. “Not too hot, not too cold.”
“Like Goldilocks,” said Marshall.
Hoon rolled his eyes. “Aye. Like Goldilocks. Run it under the tap to cool it down.”
“I think it’ll be cool enough by now,” Marshall said. Another pause. “Out of interest, are you going to be long, sir?”
“No,” said Hoon.
“Right. It’s just… I really need to go, and you’ve been in there twenty minutes already.”
Hoon frowned. Twenty minutes? “Bollocks, I’m just in.”
“Uh, no, sir. You’ve been in a while,” said Marshall. He hesitated as he waited for an answer. A moment later, Hoon heard his footsteps shuffling across the threadbare carpet.
Twenty minutes?
Nah. Couldn’t be.
Could it?
Drying his hands on a towel that looked a good decade older than Leanne, Hoon turned towards the door. As he did, he cast a final glance towards his reflection, and just for a second thought he saw one half of his face smiling back at him.
Hoon paused outside the kitchen door, ran his fingers through his thinning hair, then stepped inside. Leanne was sitting at the table and trying to wrestle the teat of a bottle into Immy’s mouth, while everyone else stood over her, offering advice.
“Just, I don’t know, pop it in,” Daniel suggested.
“I’m trying, but she keeps pushing it back out,” Leanne said.
“What if you squirted it in?” Marshall wondered.
Moira tutted. “Oh great idea! And if we get enough in, maybe we’ll inflate a balloon on the top of her head and win a goldfish.”
Marshall smiled weakly, silently wondering what the old bat was on about.
“Come on, Immy, just take it,” Leanne pleaded.
Hoon took off his overcoat and hung it over the back of a chair, then held his arms out. “Give her here.”
Leanne stood up and carefully slid Immy into Hoon’s arms. He turned the baby and nestled her head in the crook of his arm. A smile spread across the DCI’s face. Not the smug grin he plastered on his face when he’d just proved some point, but a real smile. It wasn’t an expression Marshall had ever seen him wearing before.
“Right, what’s all the noise about, ye wee arsehole?” Hoon cooed. “Eh? What’s all the noise about?”
The others watched him, taken aback by the sudden gentleness that had come over him. Only Moira didn’t seem fazed by it. She was busy cranking on the gas rings, glugging some oil into a pan, and setting to work frying up some breakfast.
Hoon took the bottle from Leanne, tipped a little on his wrist, then opened his mouth and shook a couple of drops onto his tongue.
“Ugh,” Daniel muttered.
“You know there’s more tea if you want it, sir, aye?” said Marshall. “No need to get desperate.”
“I’m checking it’s OK,” Hoon said. “I mean, it’s a relatively simple procedure, but if anyone can fuck it up, it’s you pair.”
He held the bottle up in front of Immy. “Right, you. Cut yer shite and drink this.”
Immy opened her mouth. Hoon popped the tip of the bottle in and nodded as the baby clamped her gums around it and began to suck. “Good girl,” he said. He glanced down at her fresh white diaper. “Now, once we figure out who put your nappy on back-to-front, we’ll be all set.”
Leanne groaned. “It’s not, is it?”
“Unless her arse is on the wrong way round, then aye,” said Hoon, but for once there was no venom behind his words. “We’ll sort it in a minute,” he said.
“I’m doing eggs, bacon, sausage,” Moira announced. “Anyone else have any requests?”
“Don’t suppose you’ve got any vegetarian sausages?” Daniel asked.
Moira frowned. “Oh! Are you a veggie?” she asked, then she made a show of very deliberately reaching for her shotgun.
“No,” said Daniel, his eyes following her hand as it crept towards the gun. “Not really. Normal’s fine.”
Moira gave a satisfied nod, then got back to work. Immy’s cheeks expanded and contracted as she worked to drain the bottle.
“Did you make more?” Hoon asked, looking from Marshall to Daniel in turn.
“More?” Marshall asked.
“Aye. She’s no’ a fucking camel, she’ll need another one soon.”
Marshall reached for the kettle again. “Aye. Right. Course.”
Hoon looked across to Leanne and rolled his eyes in despair. She smiled and shrugged. “Martin and Daniel met some soldiers,” she said, trying to find a way to redeem them a little. “At the shop.”
“Oh?”
Immy grabbed the end of the bottle and pushed it as she turned her head away. Hoon lifted her onto his shoulder and began gently patting her back.
“You’re really good with her,” Leanne said. “I’d have no idea what to do.”
“Bob’s done it all before, haven’t you, Bob?” Moira said, as she placed long strips of bacon into a cast iron pan, making them sizzle and spit. “He has a son. My nephew. Grown-up now, of course.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah,” Leanne said. “What’s his name?”
Immy let out a burp so loud it practically echoed around the kitchen.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Hoon. “Tell me about these soldiers.”
He listened as Daniel and Marshall told him about their encounter with the army outside the shop. They told him about the castle, and the other troops already waiting there. Marshall went to great lengths to emphasize the safety Lieutenant Sweeney had promised, drawing meaningful looks at Immy as he spoke.
When they’d finished, Hoon nodded, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Never liked the fucking army,” he muttered.
“It’s a castle,” said Daniel. “With armed guards. It makes sense.”
“Aye,” Hoon admitted. “Aye. Suppose.” He turned to his sister. “Here, Moi?”
