Twenty-Five Percent (Book 2): Downfall (6 page)

Alex sighed. “I think you’re right. Being a hero is a pain in the arse.”

Micah smiled and leaned against the side of the boat, staring into the water.

There was a small quay on the other side of the river and they unloaded the bikes without any problems.

Jean walked up to Alex and Micah and smiled. “Since I live right near the river, Everett has offered to take me home.” She stared off into the distance for a few seconds before sniffing and wiping at her eyes. “I don’t have the words to thank you. You saved my life...” Her voice trailed off to a squeak and she threw her arms around Micah, hugging him tight before moving on to Alex. “You two be careful. And come and find me when this is all over.”

“We will, Jean,” Micah said.

On the boat, Everett was making a show of examining the already scuffed deck for any new scuffs.

“This wasn’t here before,” he said, leaning down and pointing to a scrape that was obviously years old.

Alex shook his head. “Send me a bill.”

When Jean and Everett had left, they made their way from the river back towards the main road. There was an exit just after the bridge, but even before they reached the slip road Alex could smell the eaters. They left the bikes and walked along a bridge that carried a minor road to the other side, stopping to look down at the carnage.

“Looks like blowing the bridge up didn’t work,” Micah said.

Military and civilian vehicles were scattered along the road as far as they could see. Some had been in collisions, others looked like they’d simply been abandoned. Eaters were everywhere.

Alex and Micah made their way back to the bikes.

“It’s probably safer to stick to the smaller roads, at least for now,” Micah said, pulling out the map. “We should avoid the big towns too.”

Alex looked into the sky, sighing in frustration. “We’re not going to get there today, are we?”

“We can shorten the distance if we don’t follow the big roads and cut across country. If we don’t hit any problems, we could be there in a few hours.”

“But we will hit problems,” Alex said, “because there are eaters everywhere and we have the worst luck. It took us two days to go a couple of miles in Sarcester.”

Micah folded the map and replaced it into the storage compartment beneath the seat on Alex’s bike. “We’ll get there. If they didn’t need Hannah, we would have found her with Jim back at the lab. She’s important to them. She’ll be safe.”

Alex sighed again and nodded. He knew Micah was right, but it was eating him up inside that he wasn’t there to protect her. The longer she was missing, the more scared he became.

They got back on the bikes and crossed the trunk road, taking a B-road on the other side and heading into the Suffolk countryside.

Their route took them past isolated houses and through quiet, scattered villages.

They drove along country lanes, wending their way between harvested arable fields and through small patches of woodland. Under less unpleasant circumstances, Alex would have found it pretty.

Uninfected people were a rare sight, only the occasional glimpse of a face at a window or a distant car. Alex didn’t know if everyone was just staying inside out of fear, if they’d been eaten, or if most of the population had been turned and were now part of the hordes. Or if the isolation was just due to skirting carefully around all population centres of any size. 

Avoiding the towns meant their progress was slowed considerably. Even without having to worry about other traffic, the winding roads meant going at more than fifty miles per hour for any length of time was impossible. At one point they came to a single lane bridge where a large camper van had somehow become wedged sideways, blocking the entire road. Its front wheels had smashed through the concrete side and were dangling off the edge. There was no sign of the occupants and no way past. They had to backtrack and find another way across the river.

Evidence of the eaters’ progress, and people’s panicked flight from them, was frequent. Sometimes it was nothing more than trampled crops and hedges where a horde had heedlessly blundered through. Sometimes it was a car or van with windows smashed and blood staining the ground.

They’d been driving for an hour when they entered a dense forest. The trees pressed in close on either side of the road and their branches reached towards each other overhead, creating a tunnel of foliage.

The road veered to the left and Alex slowed to take the sharp turn. But even at under thirty miles an hour, he only just glimpsed the large log lying across the road before the front wheel of his bike collided with it and he was flying through the air. He hit the road, tumbling over and over until he came to a stop against a mossy tree trunk.

Drawing in a shaking breath, he tried to focus on the fact that he was still alive.

The sound of running footsteps was followed by Micah’s panicked voice. “Alex, can you hear me? Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?”

Alex’s visor was flipped up. He opened his eyes and squinted up at Micah. “Everything hurts.”

“You could have injured something. Don’t move.”

He wasn’t sure he could have moved his little finger if he wanted to. “Not a problem.”

“Does your neck or head or back hurt?”

Alex concentrated on those areas of his anatomy. “Only in a general, I just got thrown off a bike at speed, kind of way. My right hip hurts a lot though. I think I landed on it.”

“What about along your spine?”

“Not specifically. Can I take this helmet off?”

“You really shouldn’t,” Micah said, frowning. “When people have accidents on bikes they usually don’t remove the helmet until they’re sure there are no spinal injuries.”

“Well, if you’re going to make me wait until the ambulance arrives, I think we’re going to be here for a while.”

Micah sighed. “Alright, but try to keep your neck still.”

Alex nodded then realised what he’d done. “Oh crap, does that mean I won’t be able to walk now?”

Micah rolled his eyes and sighed. “Any new pain?
Don’t shake your head
.”

“No.”

“Then... I don’t know. Just keep still.”

Alex tried to keep his back and neck perfectly aligned. He couldn’t deny he was slightly, or possibly very, concerned he had injured something important. Being thrown off the bike had been terrifying.

Micah gently pulled the helmet off while Alex braced himself, breathing a sigh of relief when nothing popped, burst into searing agony, or fell off. He gave his fingers and toes a quick wiggle, just to check, then looked over at his bike some way along the road. It was lying on its side. Alex couldn’t tell from this distance in the gloom under the trees if it was damaged or not.

Then he saw movement. A figure darted from the tree line beyond where his bike was on the ground and Micah’s was standing beyond it. It ran to the bikes.

Alex sat up, whimpering a little as pain shot through his hip.

“You shouldn’t...”

Micah stopping talking when Alex flicked his eyes pointedly to the bikes. He turned to look.

A rustling sound came from the trees around them. Before either of them could do anything, six men stepped from the undergrowth and pointed six automatic rifles at them.

“Stay where you are,” one of the men said.

The rifles looked military, but the men definitely didn’t. They’d probably taken them from one of the many wrecked army vehicles they’d seen on their journey, evidence of the military’s losing battle with the greater force of the eaters. Alex wondered if they knew how to use the automatic weapons properly. Not that it mattered. At this range pointing and squeezing the trigger would be enough.

Micah turned back to Alex and looked pointedly at his waist where his gun was hidden beneath his jacket. Alex shook his head slightly. Micah widened his eyes and pursed his lips. Alex darted his eyes to each of the men then back at Micah. Micah frowned, sighing imperceptibly, and turned away. Alex wasn’t sure who had won the silent argument.

“What do you want?” Micah said.

“Just your bikes. If you don’t do anything stupid, we won’t shoot you.”

“You left that log across the road,” Micah said, his voice edged with anger.

The man Alex had seen near the motorcycles jogged up to them. “Keys aren’t there,” he said.

“Keys, now,” the man who appeared to be the leader said.

Micah looked up at him. “No.”

“Did it sound like a request?” the man growled.

Micah’s gaze flicked down again to Alex’s hip where his pistol sat in its holster. Apparently, the argument wasn’t over. Alex tried to indicate with his eyes that it was a terrible idea and would probably get them both shot. But either there was a problem in the eye to English translation, or Micah didn’t care.

Unzipping his jacket, he stood and turned to face them.

“You are not getting the keys,” he said. “However, if you leave now, you won’t get hurt.”

“Oh, hell,” Alex muttered, stifling a groan as he pushed himself to his feet. Pain shot through his hip, leg and both arms. He tried to surreptitiously lean against the tree for support.

The leader’s laugh sounded strained. “We have the guns and you’re giving the threats? Are you insane or stupid?”

Micah leaped forwards, elbowed the nearest man in the face and grabbed his rifle. Instead of using it, however, he drove the butt into the man’s stomach, sending him sprawling backwards onto the ground.

Alex waited to be riddled with bullets. It didn’t happen.

Instead of pulling triggers, the men still standing looked to the leader uncertainly. Something wasn’t right.

“Yeah,” Micah said, “thought so.”

“Drop it!” the leader shouted.

“Or what?” Micah said. “You’ll shoot me? With rifles that are useless because you have no ammunition?”

Without aiming the rifle he’d taken anywhere in particular, he pulled the trigger. A sharp bang echoed from the surrounding trees. Micah jumped, looking at the gun in shock.

A stunned pause was followed by the men all aiming at Micah and pulling their triggers. There was a short flurry of impotent clicks.

When realisation dawned, the men rushed Micah all at once. Two of them were on the ground clutching parts of their anatomy in agony before someone got in a lucky punch and the remaining four grappled him at once.

Everything stopped when the gunshot split the air around them. The men looked up to see Alex’s pistol trained on them.

“Let him go.”

Micah got to his feet and walked towards Alex, jabbing his elbow backwards into the face of the man who had punched him as he passed and wiping the blood from beneath his nose.

“On your faces on the ground,” Alex ordered, waving his gun for effect.

They looked at the ground uncertainly.

“Did it sound like a request?”

Mumbling their displeasure, with several mentions of “white-eye”, the men lowered to the ground.

That was when the screaming started.

The man Micah had taken the rifle from had crawled away, unnoticed in all the commotion. Eaters were emerging from the trees. Several of them were on him already, tearing at his flesh with their teeth.

Hearing rustling behind him, Alex pushed away from the tree as more eaters plunged from the undergrowth around him. One grabbed his left arm, yanking it back. He bit back a scream of agony and fired his gun point blank into its head.

Moaning erupted around them.

The men scrambled up from the ground and ran for the trees on the far side of the road, a large part of the horde on their heels. One of them tripped and fell. He didn’t get back up.

Alex fired at two more eaters who were almost on him and stumbled onto the road, his hip throbbing in agony. Micah took down three more.

More screams sounded from the direction the men had run.

“Come on,” Micah yelled, heading for the bikes.

Alex limped after him as fast as he could, expecting to be overrun at any moment. Micah reached Alex’s bike, bending to lift it.

“It’s too heavy,” he grunted.

Reaching him, Alex grasped the seat and hauled it upright, adrenalin dulling his pain. Micah ran to the log and dragged it out of the way.

“Key,” Alex called, reaching up to catch the key Micah tossed to him.

“Duck!” Micah yelled, raising his gun.

Alex dropped as two bullets whizzed by overhead. Two eaters fell behind him.

Micah ran for his bike while Alex climbed onto his. Too late, he realised he’d left his helmet by the tree. He glanced back, but couldn’t even see the tree past the mob of eaters crowding the road. Turning away, he turned the key and flipped the start switch, relieved when the engine roared into life. The bike seemed to have fared better than he had.

Movement ahead of him caught his attention. A lone eater burst from the trees, launching itself with astonishing speed at Micah who was climbing onto his bike. The eater grabbed his arm and pulled. Caught off balance, Micah was dragged to the ground, the eater dropping onto him. He cried out, frantically pushing at the body on top of him, but the eater was too strong.

Alex threw his bike into gear and sped towards them. As he watched in horror, the eater plunged its head down at Micah’s face.

A shot rang out.

The eater went limp.

Alex leaped from his bike and heaved the dead eater away. Micah lay on his back on the ground, still clutching his gun, his eyes wide. Spots of blood covered his face. Eater blood.

Alex pulled him upright. “We need to go.”

Micah nodded without a word and climbed onto his bike, wiping his sleeve across his face.

With the horde almost on them, they sped away.