The Last Plague (7 page)

     “What about the woman that Frank went back to help? What happened to her?”

     “Dunno.”

     “What was that puncture wound on her neck?”

     Ralph took in a deep breath. Joel eyed him nervously, hands held together like an old maid.

     “I don’t know, mate.”

     “And what’s wrong with Magnus? Is he sick? Is there something worse than that wrong with him?”

     Ralph thought exactly the same. “He’ll be fine. Once Frank gets back we’ll decide what to do, and we’ll get out of here. Calm the fuck down.”

     “One of us should’ve gone with Frank. We shouldn’t have let him go on his own.”

     “Would you rather have gone with Frank? Or would you have wanted to stay here and look after Magnus on your own?”

     “Neither.”

     “Frank will be okay. He’ll be back soon.”

     “I wish I had your confidence.”

     “Just take it easy. We’re safe in here.”

     “Okay.”

     “I’m going to see if I can find tablets or something to help Magnus.”

     “Okay.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

There were great booms in the distance, like the footfalls of a behemoth raised from the earth. Distant thunder. The ground reverberated.

     Frank had not moved for an hour. His limbs were stiff, like ice sculptures draped in cloth. He was too scared to leave his hiding place.

     Night would fall soon. The only light was a diseased, greasy hue. He didn’t want to be out here in the dark. He had heard strange noises earlier. Muted calls from far away; and voices that were no more than whispers in his ear. Footfalls down the street. The sound of running.

     The shrieking man-thing was gone. He had staggered away over half an hour ago, sniffing the air and mewling like he was in pain.

     Frank let out a small laugh and there was hysteria within it. He closed his mouth, scolded himself silently. With some effort he moved his limbs. He composed himself. A quick scan of the street at his level. No movement. No spindly legs waiting for him.

     He crawled out from under the van, scraping his palms and the heels of his hands. He winced, ignoring the temptation to look at the grazes on his skin. He watched the street as he rose into a crouch. Waited, watched. He stood up, his back to the side of the van, flat against it. The breeze was cold and touched the nape of his neck.

     The street was deserted. There were shadows but they remained still and were only threatening in the vague shape of them in the silent spaces.

     The flapping whisper of wings above him. A flock of birds shot overhead. They filled the sky, thousands of dark, frail-boned bodies moving as one organism. He envied their freedom, envied their flight.

     The birds faded into the distance. They were the first animals he’d seen since arriving here. No cats or dogs. Nothing.

     He had to get back to the others. They would be worried about him. He started down the street.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Something scratched against the front door.

     Ralph and Joel looked at each other. Joel’s eyes were starkly white, and Ralph gestured for Joel to stay put and then stepped into the hallway. He had locked the door straight after Frank stepped outside.

     More scratching. Slow and lethargic. Weak.

     His fingers tightened around the knife handle. He hesitated, feeling like a little boy who was scared because a stranger was at the door. Then he stepped forward, his trainers padding softly on the carpet. Joel was behind him, eyes wide and alarmed. He was about to speak but Ralph shushed him with a raised hand. Ralph looked through the spy-hole in the door.

     “What’s out there?” Joel asked.

     From what he could see there was nobody behind the door, unless the visitor was less than five feet tall or a child. His mind created an image of some grinning pygmy-creature waiting for him. Or maybe the visitor couldn’t be seen because it had crawled here and was now lying at the doorstep, crippled and bleeding. Maybe it was Frank, and he was badly injured.

     Ralph breathed out. He kept his eye to the hole. He sensed Joel’s apprehension behind him, radiating like heat, a mass of trembling flesh barely held together by his clothes.

     “Ralph?”

     He crouched and opened the letterbox, looking left and right, listening for the sound of breathing or a shuffle of movement. He closed the letterbox and stood.

     “It might be Frank,” said Joel.

     “It might not be.”

     “He might be in trouble.”

     Ralph chewed on his lip.

     “Frank?” Joel said, raising his voice.

     Something heavy crashed into the door, causing it to shudder on its hinges. Ralph fell back on to the foot of the stairway, scrambling half-way up the stairs on his back. Joel retreated down the hallway towards the kitchen.

     “What the fuck?” said Ralph.

     Another crash. The door shook. The bolt held. There was the sudden, sharp crack of wood splintering.

     Ralph raised the knife.

     Another crash reverberated throughout the house. The door was beginning to buckle. 

     Then it stopped.

     Ralph was breathing hard. His skin was greased with cold sweat.

     “I think it’s gone,” whispered Joel.

     “I hope so.”

     “I think I’ve pissed myself a bit.”

     Ralph stared at the door.

     The echo of violence hung in the air. Ralph could feel it throbbing against his skin.

     Joel crept towards the door, hands planted against the walls at his sides, his fingernails digging into the white wallpaper.

     Magnus appeared in the doorway to the living room.

     Joel yelped and backed into the wall. “Magnus, you’re awake.” 

     Looking towards the door, Magnus’s voice was barely audible. “They want us to let them in. We shouldn’t let them in.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ralph closed the curtains and then peered between them through the living room window. Darkness shrouded the street. Whatever had crashed against the front door was out there, maybe watching the house, and maybe thinking of other ways to gain entry. 

     They had barricaded the front and back doors with furniture; anything they could get their hands on that wasn’t nailed down. Tables and chairs. The sofa and armchairs. A Welsh dresser decorated with china cups hanging on dainty little hooks.

     His body was awash with adrenaline and he was jittery. His stomach felt full of crawling millipedes. He turned away from the window. With the curtains closed the room was dark, but Joel had found two candles under the sink and lit them with Magnus’s cigarette lighter. The small flickering flames made shadows dance and cavort like oily wraiths. Ralph and Joel had a torch each, switched off to save the batteries. Magnus and Joel were sitting on the carpet, across from each other. Joel eyed Magnus unsurely, as if he was a stranger. Joel was holding a bread knife he had taken from the kitchen.

     Magnus was without a weapon. Ralph made sure of that.    

     “What happened to you, Magnus?” asked Joel. He sniffed, wiped his nose. His mobile was on his lap, its screen blank and useless.

     Magnus looked at him. “I don’t know. I felt weird. Like something was in my head trying to push its way out of my brain. It drained all of the energy from me.”

     “Your nose kept bleeding as well,” Joel said.

     “I know. I feel much better now.”

     “What was wrong with you?” asked Ralph, standing against the wall.

     Magnus didn’t look at him. “How should I know?”

     Ralph’s face looked ghoulish in the candlelight. “Do you know who was banging at the door, Magnus?”

     “I don’t know who it was. I knew they wanted to come in and see us.” Magnus scratched a patch of skin under his jaw. “Remember when I saw something in the sky on Saturday night…before I passed out?”

     “Yeah,” said Ralph. “I found you outside half-frozen.”

     “Since then I’ve had that strange feeling – I just thought it was an extended hangover – but when we arrived in the village it got worse. It’s not too bad now; it’s fading, I think. I can’t explain it.”

     “Do you know what happened here?”

     “I have no idea. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

     Ralph saw something in his friend’s face. Magnus wasn’t telling the entire truth.

     “And what about Frank?” said Joel. “Should we search for him? Do we wait here for him?”

     Ralph said, “It was his choice to go out there. He should’ve listened to me. Fucking idiot.”

     “We can’t leave him out there,” said Joel.

     “You want to go out there?” Ralph’s voice had risen. “Our phones don’t work, so it’s not as if we can give him a quick call to see if he’s okay, is it?

     Joel looked away.

     “Maybe something got him,” said Magnus.

     Ralph hated the silence that followed. He thought of Frank out there in the dark and immediately despised himself for letting Frank go alone.

     Magnus said, “Whoever came to the door knows we’re here so maybe we should leave, find another place to hide.”

     “I’m not going out there,” said Joel. He pressed at the keypad on his phone then discarded it.

     Magnus eyed Ralph. “What do you think?”

     Ralph said nothing, just walked to the window and looked out at the silent, empty street. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The woman emerged from the darkness beneath a dead streetlight. The woman Frank had returned to help. She lurched forwards and stopped a few yards in front of him. Frank halted. His breath caught in his throat. He raised the crowbar and said nothing as his eyes were drawn to her.

     She was naked, but Frank felt no attraction towards her. She stank of piss and madness. Sagging breasts little more than flaps of skin. She was hunched over, and her spine curved so much that it was protruding from her back, the vertebrae shifting with her movements. Her limbs were thin and her hair was falling out. The puncture wound on her neck had scabbed over.

     A grin twisted her pink, fleshy lips. Her face was so slack it seemed like the skin would slough off her skull the next time she shook her head.

     “What’s wrong with you?” No air was left in Frank’s lungs. He grasped for his inhaler but his hand couldn’t find it.

     She didn’t answer. Her body began to buckle and dance, her limbs flailing, her fingers clawing at the air. She let out a small moan and raised her head towards the sky, her mouth still open. A silent scream from the darkness of her throat.

     The blood drained from Frank’s face. His heart stuck in his gullet. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her.

     Bones clicked and joints popped wetly. Something changed in her face, and the skin stretched tighter over her cheekbones. She held out her hands and the fingers upon them lengthened.

     She stared at Frank and let out a screech that wasn’t a human sound. Her breath came in shivering fits.

     Frank stepped back.

     She came for him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

They were sitting on the floor.

     “I need a piss,” said Magnus.

     Ralph shrugged. He was squeezing his stress ball. “You don’t need my permission.”

     Joel looked at them but said nothing.

     “Is the toilet upstairs?”

     Ralph nodded. “Knock yourself out.”

     Magnus looked unsure.

     “Aren’t scared of the dark, are you?” Ralph said. “Piss in the kitchen sink if you have to.”

     “That’s disgusting,” said Joel.

     Ralph let out a tired, short laugh. “Just go upstairs, Magnus. You’ll be fine. The bad things are outside, not in here.”

     Magnus swallowed. A draught passed through the room and touched him with icy fingers. He fought back a shiver.

     Ralph handed Joel’s torch to Magnus. “Have a good one.”

     Magnus rose, switched on the torch and went out into the hallway. He checked the barricaded front door then stood at the foot of the stairway. He pointed the torch up the stairs, staring at the shadows created by the invading light. He put his free hand on the bannister, breathed in then breathed out. His bladder felt tight and swollen. He noticed the beige carpet, darkened with grime over the years, beneath his feet and around him.

     He thought of Debbie and the boys. He checked his mobile again. No signal. Only a few hours left in the battery.

     “I’m sorry, Debbie,” he whispered, staring at the phone.

     Something creaked upstairs; the shifting and shrinking of floorboards. He shook his head. There was a dry lump in his throat. The muscles in his face were stiff and the blood quickened in his veins.

     A hand on his shoulder; Magnus whirled. Ralph looked at him.