The Rot (Post Apocalyptic Thriller) (17 page)

I’ll never forget his screaming though when he woke up in the chapel, not the cries of a Rotten this time but that of a scared lad not knowing where… or who he was.

“Help… Please help…” we heard, and came rushing out. I was reminded a little of Lara and the bridge, because she’d said exactly the same thing and then still turned out to be infected. Danny wasn’t though, that much was apparent by the questions he began asking as soon as he saw us.

“What’s happened to me? Why am I tied up like this? Are you going to kill me?” Poor little guy.

We explained as best we could, but I’m not sure he got it all the first time – it’s a lot to process and for him it must have been a bit like waking up from a coma. It’s gradually sunk in; he couldn’t really deny it when he saw what had happened to the countryside around here. When he saw his first Rotten on supply runs with myself and Kim.

“You mean…
I
was like them?” he spluttered. Takes some getting used to, I guess.

“But it means we can probably help the others… a lot of them anyway,” Kim said to Danny.

Oh, by the way, we named him after Dad: Daniel William Keller. Seemed as good a name as any until his own came back to him. Was it wrong that I hoped a little that it didn’t, that none of his past came back? Because even if that couple at the cinema had nothing to do with him, chances are his own folks were either turned or dead. Besides, we were getting used to him being ‘ours’ by then. We’d have family dinners – still do – where we’d chat and laugh and just do the things that families do. It was something I don’t think either of us, Kim or me, thought we’d ever have.

And we made plans, Kim talking about refining the serum and how to distribute it. I suggested finding a serviceable plane and treating that, then flying over a town or city and spraying the formula – like crop dusting. That was okay as far as tests were concerned, but Kim broached another idea, something a bit more drastic: creating another ground zero effect.

“You mean like a bomb?” I said.

“Something that would scatter a concentrated version of the serum over a wider area, which should then spread.”

“Like the Rot did in the first place,” I said, rubbing my bristled chin. Have I mentioned how nice it was just to grow hair again, and to be able to
feel
that hair. Not that I wasn’t grateful for the SKIN – which Kim is still running tests on by the way, having detached the recording device for me to carry on using… obviously.

Not sure I’ll need it much longer though, because we’re almost ready. Ready at least to try. And if we can pull it off, then…

Just one more thing to report before that happens. Kim’s pregnant. Yeah, I know… When she started being sick all the time, I immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion – thinking negatively again, that everything was going so right something had to go wrong eventually. But it wasn’t the Rot, she just had morning sickness… which, for the record, is a complete misnomer. She was sick morning, noon, and night.

Danny’s been brilliant, I have to say. He’s very much looking forward to a little baby brother or sister.

I look back on those first recordings now and shudder. Things have gradually turned around for me, and that’s what we’re hoping to do for the world. I’ll let you know how it all goes, don’t worry, though I’m fully expecting you to see for yourself. To be making recordings of your own before too long.

Kim can’t really drink that whisky now, in her condition, so it’s left to me to toast the future. Well, here’s mud in your eye…

Ugh
, tastes like fucking mud as well! Remind me never to drink treated whisky ever again.

End Recording.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Record:

I… I know what you’re expecting to hear now, but you’d be wrong.

Been a while since I’ve had the heart to pick this damned thing up and speak into it. Not… not sure I’m ready even now, but…

Not enough mud-whisky in the world.

I… no, sorry. Not yet… I can’t talk about it yet.

Stop.

Record:

Shit.

Look, what do you want from me? Okay, they’re dead… Both dead.

Fuck… I thought I was prepared for this, it’s been a long time, but… hold on… Can’t seem to stop crying. Wait, I think I’ve… yeah… So, that was cutting a long story short, wasn’t it? Kim and Danny, both dead – them and… Oh God, my baby… my little…

Would… would have been my first born.

You want to know how, though, don’t you? Fuck, I don’t know if I can even… Everything was going to be so great, everything was going to be good again. There was hope again.

It happened while I was out on a run, scrounging up more supplies for the bomb we’d been building. We were almost there, as I think I told you when I last picked up the recorder, just a few more parts and—

As soon as I opened the door to the chapel and called out to Kim and Danny, I knew something was wrong. I’d found a working shotgun during one of the excursions, which we’d treated, and it was this I raised when there was no reply from either of them. Then I saw the altar had been knocked over, and one of the stained glass windows was smashed.

“Kim!” I shouted again. “Danny…”

I made my way through into the back room, saw the scratches on the wood of the door. The Rotten, had to be – they’d got in! Kim had another crossbow by this time, but if there were too many of them… I shook away the thought, reminded myself what a good fighter she was, how long she’d survived for until I crashed into her life.

I toed open the door, saw broken glass and wood on the floor, books scattered about. Swallowing dryly, I stepped through and…

Saw Danny, standing and looking down, sobbing. Kim was by his feet, covered in blood. She was looking up at me, but I could tell there was nothing of her in those huge, lifeless, glassy eyes. The crossbow was in her hand, but she’d obviously not been able to stop her attacker.

“Oh… oh no,” I whimpered. “Danny… Danny, what happened?”

It was only then that the boy turned towards me, still crying – except the expression on his face wasn’t one of remorse. He was grinning from ear to ear like a loon, foamy saliva dripping from his mouth. I looked down and saw the piece of glass in his hand, either from one of the beakers or the window behind me, it didn’t matter – all that mattered was what he’d done with it. What he’d been
forced
to do by the fucking Rot.

Because his neck was covered in the stuff, like he was wearing a scarf – tracking up one side of his face to his hairline, into one of his eyes and sending it blind, though it was still shedding tears like the other one.

“Danny… no,” I breathed.

His grin became a snarl and, still sobbing, he began towards me. I backed away at first, retreating into the chapel – and then into one of the pews, my old bed, which I fell over. Danny followed me, letting out the most tremendous wail. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that this was the boy we’d had breakfast with that morning. Worse even than when we’d first found him, the Rot racing through the kid now.

I scrambled to my feet, shotgun up again and pointing at him. “Stop… please Danny. I don’t want to…” But part of me did, God help me! Part of me wanted to blow his head clean off for what he’d done. I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t him, it was our old enemy returned. It had somehow found a way to defeat our…Kim’s serum, to take back what we’d stolen from it.

Danny paused, cocking his head. Maybe some part of him recognised me, or understood what I was saying – understood what had happened here. Because his brow furrowed, and I swear the tears that came next were genuine. Just before he took that piece of glass and tore into his own face, raking down the side of it like he was trying to cut away the Rot, ending with a flourish across his throat, blood jetting out across the chapel floor.

Then came the rumbling sound, the crack in that floor. The cracks up the walls of the chapel – which caused a section of the roof to cave in where Danny was standing. I didn’t see anything else for the dust, just got out through the front doors again, watching as the main part of the chapel collapsed, like St August’s had done so long ago.

I stood there for a few moments, then dropped to my knees – as I had that day as well. I’d lost so much more this time, though. And I still had the shotgun in my hand. Even put the barrel in my mouth, placed my finger on the trigger.

But I knew what would happen if I pulled it. Knew that it would probably just click uselessly, knowing my luck, deny me my end; the serum failing. Eventually, I threw it aside and burst into tears, not even testing that theory.

Took me all my strength to pull back from that one. But I’m a survivor, like Mum was… Like Kim was.

I’m a survivor, and this is what happened next.

Stop.

Record:

Sorry, I needed to get myself together properly to tell you about afterwards.

It wasn’t just a survival instinct that got me going, it was also a craving for revenge. I’d finish up the bomb, detonate it and—

Didn’t take me long to realise that wasn’t going to happen. Even if I exploded it, the serum clearly didn’t work – or didn’t work
permanently
. I don’t know whether it was just that something was wrong with Kim’s formula, or whether she wasn’t really immune at all – perhaps it had got to her in the end as well, I have no way of knowing. Hell, maybe
I’d
given it to her? Not even going to go there again, because I’ll find some way of ending myself without the need of a shotgun – and I have to carry on.

Didn’t matter, it was pointless. Ground zero would only buy some time, but then what? Without Kim, there was no way of refining the treatment; she was the brains… the brains behind all this. Had been the true Godsend. Kim, my love.

But the injection would buy
me
some time, to maybe find someone else who could continue her work. At least find somewhere that might be unaffected. I picked my way through the rubble of the church, but everything was pretty much destroyed. I stopped when I started to see limbs in there, but by that time the Rot had taken hold of the site anyway.

Luckily, there were still some stocks of serum in the Volvo – we’d placed spray-packs in the boot in case of emergencies. And the car was still working… for now. So, I’d revert to my previous plan – but instead of crop dusting, I’d begin my search.

I found a plane I could use and treated it, which would keep it going for a while. My travels had taken me the length and breadth of this country, so I’d make the hop abroad and begin there.

And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since…

By air at first – damn, I miss flying – then by land, by whatever transport I could find, I searched and searched. When my stocks of serum ran out, I attached what was left of the SKIN – one of the few things that
had
survived the chapel – to the hull of a boat and navigated waters I once swore I would never attempt. I’ve survived, and I’ve seen sights you could not possibly believe.

Rivers of melting people, flowing into each other because of the Rot. Snow and ice infected with the stuff, turning from white, from clear, to brown and purple-grey. Mountains cracking up the middle, split in two and tumbling to the ground. Whole cities the size of which we could not even imagine at home, flattened, having succumbed to the Rot, before sinking into a massive crater in the ground.

I might have taken more days than Fogg did, but I made it around the world all right, just like I did when I was backpacking; as the skies above me turned from blue with fluffy clouds to drab and bleak, mirroring the Earth itself. I gave up trying to find a cure and instead focussed solely on my secondary objective, spurred on by stories told by those who were still able to speak, even if they could do little else – the Rot having left their minds last after ravaging their bodies. They spoke of somewhere sacred, a tiny part of this globe that the Rot hadn’t been able to ‘change’. Maybe it was just a myth, just hope, but I had to know for sure…

I…

Stop:

Record:

And now I’m coming to the… edge… no, to the
end
of all this; coming to the end in more ways than…

Foot…
found
the first signs of it on me earlier this water…
week
. Might have been with me from the start, or might have been down to the muck I’ve been farm…
forced
to living off – which, come think…
to
think of it I ran through in… ran out of later…
long
ago. Can’t remember who…
when
. The Rot has been take me piece by…spreading that me, eating away me…

But must case…
carry
on. Need to… there is still house…
hope
. You know what, it might be the…the Dad…
disease
talking to me, but realised something. We were rotting long before it came along. Us, people…the plug…the
planet
… what we’d done to the gift we’d been given… Might bo… bo…
be
better now… keeping me alive…
fuck!