The Rot (Post Apocalyptic Thriller) (8 page)

Rakesh had been backing away even before Jane set off, so I reached down for the rifle. I hadn’t been thinking about more than just grabbing it, more than taking charge, but once I had it I was the one facing that tough decision about Jane. In the end it was taken out of my hands because she headed off in the other direction after the teenager, springing up and onto him, scissors going to work on him too. I raised the rifle, but then the pair of them – a weird amalgamation of bodies, a flurry of arms and hands – stumbled sideways into a crate that had a candle on it. Not something that would have mattered ordinarily, if it hadn’t been for all those spirits Carrie had already spilled.

There were whooshing sounds, and suddenly a wall of flames sprang up – cutting me off from them. I looked over towards Dennis, but he was on the floor as well, swimming in a pool of his own blood. I thought about a tourniquet, but he’d already lost so much… and where would I take him, even if I got him out? Wasn’t like I could pop him round to the nearest A&E department, get them to stitch him up and pump some plasma into him. The twitching stopped at that point anyway, the last throes of death done with. I didn’t – and still don’t really – know who was better off, me or him. Me or Carrie, or Rakesh.

The fire continued to spread, running along with the river of spirits and setting light to any wood it could find, eating it up like a greedy mongrel after scraps. Cutting off my way to the cellar doors, to the street, and leaving only one exit route. Up and out through the door that led to the pub, the one Dennis had used to escape the chaos up there in the first place. I stepped over the body, tried not to look at the others that were being consumed by flames. That cellar was like what had happened in miniature – how everything had been okay one minute, then turned to shit the next. And once again I was climbing to get away from an all-consuming fire.

I was about halfway up the steps, looking over my shoulder, when a figure flew at me out of those flames. Too small to be Rakesh, it had to be Jane – the girl a human torch, clothes burning up on her. But she showed no signs of being in pain, just driven to attack; the same drive that had started all this in the first place. Remarkably, she also still had the scissors in her grasp, ready to do more damage. With her free hand, though, she caught my calf – pitching me onto the stairs. Jane brought down the scissors, and if I hadn’t rolled over to face her they would have gone straight into me – SKIN or no SKIN. As it was, the blades got stuck in the wood of the steps, giving me time to kick out, and knock her back. Oddly, her current state made it easier to fight her – she was looking less and less like the girl Carrie had cared for. Less and less
human
as I struggled to scramble away. That said, I still couldn’t bring myself to shoot her – so instead I struck her at the temple with the butt of the rifle and watched her tumble down the steps, rolling and rolling to meet the fire once more.

I flipped back over, half-crawling and half-stumbling up towards the door. Luckily, Dennis had left the key in the lock, so I turned it and practically fell out through the doorway into the pub, slamming the door behind me and locking it again from that side. I tossed away the key and leant against the door.

There was a bang from the other side that made me jump, but it wasn’t enough to break down the barrier – Jane didn’t have the strength for that. I couldn’t just stand there and listen as the thumps grew weaker and weaker, though; I needed to be away from that place. Be on my way somewhere… anywhere. The whole pub would go up eventually anyway.

I hadn’t even thought about whether there might still be any of the affected upstairs. It had been a little while since we’d heard anyone up there, but that didn’t mean a thing; they could have just been standing, staring into space for all I knew. Thankfully, it was completely deserted – just the dead that had met their end in the initial event Dennis had described, including the charred remains of the barmaid and the guy in the suit, the foam from the fire extinguisher having hardened over them here and there. It seemed pretty pointless now, not just because they’d been dead or dying when Dennis did it, but because fire would still claim this whole building soon.

As I picked my way through the bar area, I did my best to ignore the other sights, keeping the Heckler & Koch up and ready for any trouble. I reached the window and saw that it was still daylight outside; I’d sort of lost track of the time, of the days down there, because it was always dark apart from the candles and the narrow slit of light that seeped through the doors to the street. Smoke was already reaching me from the cellar so it was time to get out. A quick check of the street revealed that it was just as quiet out there; no sign of anyone at all. Of course, the affected could pop up out of nowhere at a moment’s notice, as I’d seen, but I had the gun and was willing to risk it.

Not looking back, I headed out through the main door of the pub. Moving forward, always moving forward.

Pause.

Resume recording:

I spent the next couple of hours making my way through those streets, which were uncannily quiet.
Perhaps all the affected had wiped themselves out
, I thought to myself. But then where were the bodies, if that was the case? Not that there weren’t a fair few of those, don’t get me wrong.

Wasn’t long after leaving
The White Hart
, though, that I came across somewhere I could grab some clothes. My time with Dennis and co. had made me realise that I needed to blend in more, cover the SKIN to avoid any questions I couldn’t really answer. The shop was an old Army & Navy store – just the one arm of the forces missing, which happened to be mine, naturally. It had been broken into already, or at least the glass at the front had been smashed.

Taking a leaf out of Rakesh’s book, I swiped a dark hoodie from a rack and tugged that on, then I pulled the hood up and over a baseball cap. A pair of cargos fitted over my shorts, and of course I had my boots already, courtesy of the facility. I found a grey overcoat to complete the outfit, which would also hide the rifle quite nicely, then I tugged a pair of gloves over the SKIN on my hands. Finally, I filled a backpack with things I thought might be useful, like a compass; a few maps; binoculars; that kind of thing. A backpack, which was just a little bigger than Jane’s school one had been…

Jane.

I tried to push away thoughts of what had happened to that little girl, but it wasn’t easy. If there’d been a delay in her turning, then why not with others? Could anyone now be trusted? Was anyone actually immune to this thing? Made me all the more grateful for the SKIN; I was starting to realise that it was the only thing keeping me safe… that would continue to do so, with a bit of luck.

Being in that store was the first time since it had all happened I’d been able to catch my – recycled – breath, and thinking about Jane brought back memories not just of Carrie, Rakesh and Dennis, but of the people back at the facility. The kindly doctor Weeks, that nurse, the guard on the roof; all victims of this in their different ways; and even the affected were still people deep down. Maybe they could even be cured, a reversal set in motion. It would take greater minds than mine to figure all that out, but it did start me thinking; it gave me a direction and maybe some shreds of optimism.

For most of the rest of that day, I checked out some of the other buildings in town – clearing rooms before searching them for anything useful; seeing if any phone lines were working, whether there were any mobile signals. In only one of those houses was electricity still powering the lights, but I couldn’t get either the desktop computer or the laptop working. I tell a lie, the laptop did power up for about a minute, enough to show me what looked like a scrambled screensaver of clouds. Oh God, what I wouldn’t have given for a plane at that point; to be soaring through the clouds, up and away from all that shit on the ground. Then the thing just died on me, and it wasn’t long after that the lights winked out as well.

There was just no consistency to it. If the power was out, then it should have been out everywhere – not randomly. And why didn’t it last? When it grew dark, I didn’t want to be out on the streets alone – there was a night vision scope on the rifle, which helped, but that wasn’t the point. I wasn’t ready back then. So I found another hiding place till dawn: an out of the way garage I could bed down in, surrounded by cardboard boxes, which I could easily defend or get out of if it was attacked. I’d already decided that, come the morning, I would find a car and get out of there, give myself some time to think.

I hadn’t slept much during my time in that cellar, napping more than anything – and I doubted I would that night either. If I’m on edge, I always have trouble nodding off and even then I sleep incredibly lightly – which works well if you have one ear out for any potential trouble. But I found myself dozing, through sheer exhaustion I suspect, and my dreams were filled with beautiful countryside similar to the kind I’d flown over in the chopper.

I was snapped out of that by the cardboard boxes falling over. Someone in the garage with me. Immediately, I swung the rifle round in that direction… letting out the breath I was holding when I saw it was just a cat. A tabby, it jumped down from the boxes it had knocked off, and padded towards me on the floor.

“Hey there,” I said. “You’re not going to make me use this, are you?”

It stood and gazed at me, cocking its head. For a moment or two I wasn’t quite sure whether it would go for me or not, but then it started cleaning itself – licking its paws and rubbing its ears with them. Unaffected by everything that had been going on around it the past few days, unaffected by whatever had touched the population.

Then it was on its way, off to continue its nocturnal activities now that it had woken me up. I waited there until dawn’s early light started to stream in through the small window, only then emerging from my hiding place behind the boxes, my hiding place inside the garage – though not before selecting a few choice items that were on the walls: tools that I could use as hand-to-hand weapons should the need arise – a smaller brother to the axe from back at the facility, a hammer, a small serrated saw that tucked into itself like a pocket knife.

There was still no activity out on the streets, and I headed – according to my compass – out towards the northern-most end of town. I came across a few cars, and one truck, but couldn’t seem to get any of them started. Probably just as well, because the noise would have attracted too much attention before I could leave the place behind me in my rear-view. Much better, I reasoned, to take one from the edge of town and quickly say my goodbyes. Keep quiet until then, stick to the spaces between buildings which would hide me. Assuming I could find a car that was actually working, of course.

Eventually I did: a red Ford parked up not far away from the local theatre. Abandoned, like most of them – I wondered if the affected could remember
how
to drive anymore, or even wanted to – with its keys still in the ignition. It started up first time and purred more contently than the tabby had done back in that garage. I’d make a clean getaway; hadn’t seen any of the crazies in all this time, let alone had to fight any of them. But I was really counting my chickens…

I didn’t know where they’d been, or where they came from – but suddenly there were dozens of them; the streets choking with them and their noise. It was almost as if they’d decided to let me get this far, give me the hope that I might make it away from town, only to snatch that away from me at the last minute. Out of the buildings all around me they streamed, like someone had rung a dinner bell, or issued a call to arms. Too many to shoot, that was for sure. The only way was to get in the Ford and drive.

So that’s what I did, getting ahead of them for a little while – only to find more in front of me. I couldn’t really avoid them, had to plough into men, women and children. Wasn’t even sure whether they were all affected or not, and couldn’t stop to find out. I just prayed I was ending their suffering as they bounced over the bonnet, over the roof. It was then that I felt a rumbling beneath me, the car vibrating, followed by what sounded like an explosion going off. The next thing I knew, a crater the size of a small pond had appeared in front of me; a massive hole in the road! Was that what they were doing, had they set some sort of trap for me, like natives in a jungle? They’d never shown any kind of aptitude for working together before – in fact quite the reverse – but…

I tugged on the steering wheel to swerve round the hole, sideswiping more of the affected as I did so. One woman’s face pressed up against the glass on the driver’s-side door and I looked right into her eyes as she slid off; they were wide and bloodshot – pleading or murderous, I couldn’t tell which. And I noticed something else… Then she was gone again, replaced by another body – but I was facing front again, watching out for more craters.

None came, but I saw in my mirror that huge cracks were spreading from that hole – reminded me a little of the glass back at the facility, and I knew what came after that.

In this case, it was so much worse.

The cracks reached the buildings on either side of that street, one in particular which looked like a law court or something, then up the sides of them. Eyes flitting from the crowds in front to the rear view, I saw enormous zig-zag streaks travelling up those buildings. It sent shudders along the road, which again I felt through the tyres and the metal of the car’s frame.

I stamped on the accelerator, trying not to care as I rammed into more of the affected. One barrelled over the bonnet and smacked against the windscreen, splintering it. For a few moments I was completely blind, until the shape rolled off again… and I had to swerve quickly to avoid a collision with a wall.

That was the least of my problems, though, because just behind me the buildings were starting to topple. Only one at first, but then another and another. They came crashing down as surely as if they’d been marked for demolition – falling on top of many of the affected, crushing them so completely I didn’t feel guilty anymore about driving through them. The collapsed buildings were causing more cracks to appear in the road, chasing me just like the affected had done.