Escape Artist (End of the World Book 3) Page 4
This is it. This is where I have to decide. Either I fight them here in the open, or I let them back me into a corner where they will overpower me.
I don’t want to.
But I have no choice.
This time, when I swing the hammer, I put the full force of my momentum behind it.
When it hits the Infected, there is a dull thump and the shockwave reverberates up my arm.
I can’t bring myself to look at it.
But I pull the hammer away and it catches on something.
I have to tug it towards me at the same time as backing away from the other Infected that are still coming towards me. Their bloody hands reaching out to try and throttle me before I have a chance to swing the hammer again.
The hammer comes free. The body of the one I struck crumbles to the floor.
I take another step back and prepare myself to strike again.
I swing again and, to my surprise, the two Infected move out of the way. They aren’t sure which one I am aiming for, but they have both learned from the mistakes of the first.
This isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. They aren’t going to stand there and let me kill them.
My first plan, of hitting them one at a time with the hammer, isn’t going to work. I have fallen into the trap of thinking of them as zombies, when that isn’t what they are at all. Thinking that makes it easier to bring myself to kill them. But it makes it impossible to understand how dangerous they are.
I duck and push through between them. They don’t expect it and aren’t quick enough to catch me. As I get behind them, I turn, swing the hammer again, and take out a second one.
It is only the two of us left. He is about forty years old, bald, except for a thin layer of white hair pasted over his crown. His eyes are black but they look at me with something that might be intelligence.
He opens his mouth and I see half a jaw full of rotted yellow stumps. There are pieces of rotten black flesh between them. The tongue itself looks as if it might drop out of his head.
The Infected man growls and instinctively I turn away. His breath is putrid but, there is breath. Zombies don’t breathe, but humans do. Even sick ones.
I swing the hammer, but the third Infected has learned from the mistakes of the previous two. It knows that I will hit it if I am given the opportunity, it also knows that stepping away will be a mistake. Instead of doing either, the Infected man grabs my arm and stops me from moving.
He is strong and instinct almost makes me cry out. I manage to resist, not wanting Michelle to come and investigate, but I know that I am running out of time. If I am not back soon then she will come and investigate anyway.
I take half a step back.
The look in his eyes doesn’t change.
I lift my leg and kick him as hard as I can in the groin.
If any more proof were needed that he is still human, this is it.
He lets go of my arm and doubles over. I pull the hammer away and while he is facing the floor I swing it down. It imbeds itself in his skull by a couple of inches and it takes considerable effort for me to pull it free.
That doesn’t stop me.
It might be fear or it might be anger. Whatever it is, I find myself repeatedly hitting it in the head with the blunt end of my hammer. The Infected man falls face first on the gravel but I don’t stop. I strike it again and again and again.
Soon there is nothing left of the back of his head except bone fragments and brain matter.
I don’t know how long I would continue if I didn’t hear her.
“Evan?” Michelle sounds both shocked and scared.
When I stand up to look at her I see that the hammer, and my arm, covered in the Infected man’s blood.
Her mouth falls open.
I don’t know what to say.
She stands there looking at me and I look back at her. We are both thinking the same thing: what has happened to me?
Michelle comes over to me and pulls sheets of paper out of the dispenser next to the fuel pump. She wipes my arm and I look at her, waiting for her to speak.
The three Infected people are laying on the ground. Dead. I killed them.
My anger isn’t directed at them but at myself. How did I let this happen? How did I let myself lose control.
When she has finished cleaning my arm she takes the hammer and hooks it onto the back pocket of her jeans. She takes a breath and finally speaks to me.
“Did you manage to find a car?” she says.
I shake my head.
“Let’s have a look then.”
I nod follow her away from the scene of my crime.
After checking another couple of cars we find a white Range Rover with a full tank. The keys are still in the ignition. It is more ostentatious that I would have liked, but there are advantages to it.
Michelle drives back to the others.
It takes us twenty minutes to load up the Range Rover. Michelle, Harriet and I do most of the work while Cassie moans about how bad big cars are for the environment.
“I’ll drive,” Michelle says when we finish.
I don’t argue. The chance to rest is welcome.
She climbs into the drivers seat and I get in next to her. Harriet and Cassie are in the back, strapped in.
CHAPTER 10
THE JOURNEY IS BORING WITHOUT THE DISTRACTION OF driving. Soon Cassie and Harriet are asleep in the back and Michelle is humming under her breath. I stare out the window, but all I can see is fields. The distant buildings are strange and alien.
It seems as if the world is dead.
Three hours later we stop by the side of the road to eat lunch.
“Where do you think we’re going to stop tonight?” Harriet says.
I shrug. “I don’t know honey. We’ll find somewhere.”
She nods and looks away. I watch her staring into the distance for a moment.
“Is everything okay?” I say.
She shakes her head but doesn’t look at me.
“What’s wrong honey?” I say. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head, but she doesn’t move away.
“I’m worried about mum,” she says.
“Why are you worried about her?” I say.
She is crying. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I promise,” I say, certain that I already know what she’s going to tell me.
“Are you sure?” she says.
I nod. I never break promises to Harriet. The fact that I found her in London, that I got her to safety, that should be evidence enough to convince her.
“Okay,” she says. She takes a deep breath and I prepare myself for the news that I already know. Then she tells me: “Mum’s planning to leave.”
“What?” I say. I can tell by her reaction that I have not managed to restrain myself from looking angry. I try to force myself to calm down. “Sorry,” I say.
“She found a map.”
“She found a map?”
Harriet nods.
“A map to what?”
“It’s a place where she thinks she’ll be safe. A commune.”
I try to work out why Cassie wouldn’t tell me about this. If she has found a place that she thinks will be safe then why can’t we all go there?
“She thinks you’ll call it stupid,” Harriet says, answering the question before I’ve even have a chance to ask it.
She wouldn’t be wrong. The idea that some hippie community that shuns modern medicine could possibly be safe is ridiculous, but if she really believes it... It’s not as if we have many other options.
“Will you talk to her?” Harriet says.
I nod, although I’m not sure how I’ll broach the subject. “Do you want to go?” I say.
Harriet doesn’t reply.
It is a lot of pressure to put on a twelve year old, but we are all having to make some adjustments in the new world. “Do you want to go Harriet?”
“She could be right.”
“I don’t know.”
I shake my head. That’s a conversation to have with Michelle. “Has she said when she’s thinking of going?”
“Soon. We’re getting closer to it.”
“What if we change course?” I say, thinking that will give us both what we want and I won’t have to have an awkward conversation with Cassie.
“Then she’ll go sooner. It will be more dangerous because she’ll be on her own.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll talk to her.”
Harriet smiles and goes back to eating her soup. Mine no longer holds any appeal so, after stirring the pot for a few moments, I get up and go to find my ex-wife.
Cassie is sitting in the back of the Range Rover. I open the door and look at her.
“You shouldn’t be out in the sun,” she says. “It’s bad for your skin.”
I say nothing, climb in the back next to her and close the door. She straightens up as if she knows what I’m about to say.
“What is it?” she says.
I say nothing.
“If you’ve come looking for favours, you should know I’m not interested. We had our time together, try to move on.”
“I’ve been talking to Harriet,” I say. “She’s worried about you.”
“Why is she worried about me?”
“She thinks you’re planning to run away.”
“Oh.”
“It’s true then?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“You think I’m running away again. That I don’t want to be with you.”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do. I want to be with my daughter.”
“That didn’t stop you last time.”
“That’s not fair.”
I stop myself. This doesn’t need to become an argument. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Tell me what’s going on?”
I can see that she is suspicious of my sudden change. She expected this to become an argument as well, might even have hoped for it. It would be easier not to answer, if we were hurling insults at each other.
“It’s okay Cass,” I say. “I only want to understand.”
She holds out for a moment longer and then sighs. She bows her head and then takes a deep breath. “I got bitten.”
I don’t react.
“Michelle told you?”
“She did.”
“So do you know what that means?” she says.
“Why don’t you tell me,” I say.
“It means,” she stops, takes another deep breath and tries to calm down. “It means I’m infected. It means that I’m going to become one of them.”
“You don’t know that,” I say.
“And you don’t know that I won’t,” she says.
Which is also true. “So you’re running away?”
“I’m keeping you all safe. What if I turn into one of them and try to hurt you?”
“And what if you don’t?”
She shakes her head. “You’re not listening to me Evan: what if I turn into one of them and I hurt Harriet? I’m not willing to take the risk.”
“Neither am I, but there has to be something else we can do. If you go wandering off by yourself than you’ll get killed and what if you don’t turn into one of them?”
“There’s places I can go,” she says. “I managed to do okay before you showed up.”
“That was different, you were in your own flat and you didn’t have an army trying to find you.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“At least give it a few days,” I say. “If you start to get sick, then consider it.”
“Okay,” she says. The fact that she doesn’t argue this point, leads me to believe that she’s lying, but I can’t force her to tell me the truth.
“Harriet likes having you here,” I say. “Don’t let her down.”
I decide that it’s best to leave it at that. I get out of the car before I can say something that will undo any of the good I’ve done.
I walk around for a while to clear my head. From the other side of the road I can see the white Range Rover, Harriet and Michelle. We are so few and so vulnerable. Even if Cassie is close to useless, having her here makes it feel as if we have a chance. Three people running is desperate, adding a forth makes it feel like something else. The start of a community.
I stop when I get halfway across the road. Something feels different. Something has changed. I realise this before I hear the distant chudder of helicopter blades. I look up and see the first craft rising over the horizon.
For a moment I stand there looking at the helicopters. They are coming towards us, but I don’t know whether that is a coincidence or if they know we are here.
I glance at the bright white Range Rover. If they haven’t seen us yet, it won’t be long before they do.
Do we run to the car and hope we can put enough distance between us and them that we get away? Do we give up the car and make a run for it on foot?
I don’t have long to decide.
The noise from the helicopter gets louder. I can also hear car engines and that makes the decision easier.
CHAPTER 11
I RUN TO HARRIET AND MICHELLE. THEY HAVE heard the noise as well and are already on their feet, packing our things into bags.
“Leave that,” I say. There isn’t time for anything except getting away. “Cassie!” I shout.
“I’ll get her,” Harriet says.
Michelle drops her bag and grabs my daughters arm before I have a chance to say anything. “You wait here,” she says, already moving away. “I’ll get her.”
Michelle and Cassie are back in less than a minute, and then it is time to go.
I take Harriet’s hand and lead her across the field. In the distance there is a copse of trees where we will be able to hide for a time. Before we can get to it though, we have to cross the field where only the rotting crops are available for cover.
As soon as they see the car they will know we were here. The still warm camping stove will confirm it.
We run as if our lives depend on it, which of course they do. The ground is uneven and I am prone to tripping on exposed roots and clods of dirt that have dried into something harder than stone. The dead husks of plants whip into our faces. I try to keep hold of Harriet’s hand, but soon feel it slip away from me.
I stop and turn back but I can’t see her.
“Dad?”
I turn towards the sound of her voice, but I don’t see her. The dead crops won’t hide us from the helicopters, but it is tall enough to keep us from seeing one another.
The last time I lost Harriet, I almost lost her forever. If she is gone now then what hope do I have of ever finding her again?
I stop myself. I’m spiralling. I need to get a grip.
“Harriet?” I say.
I turn in a tight circle waiting to hear her voice. There is nothing. Either she is too far away or something has happened to her.
I turn again and now I don’t know which direction we were going in. The field is lower than the road. I can’t see the copse of trees, but I can see the helicopters.
They aren’t the dual rotor models that I saw earlier. They are smaller, but in my mind that only makes them more dangerous. They can move faster and we have lost any advantage had to begin with.
“Harriet!” I shout again.
This time I don’t expect an answer and I don’t get one.
I have to decide.
Do I stand here and hope that one of them comes back to find me? Or do I keep with the plan and run to the trees? That is what Michelle would tell Harriet to do.
I push aside the rotting stalks and accept the slaps across the face with good grace. The pain doesn’t concern me.
The pace I set for myself is close to a sprint but the helicopters continue to get closer. Soon I can feel the s
teady pulse of their engines. They are coming for me.
I hear men shouting to one another in a language that I don’t understand.
It is the soldiers. Their cars must have reached the road and followed us in. They are coming for us from all directions now and I don’t see how we can get away.
After a few more seconds I see the trees peeking over the top of the crops.
My heart is beating so hard that it feels as if it is going to burst through my chest. I am half convinced that the soldiers will be able to hear my panting breath over the sound of the helicopters. I don’t stop moving. I keep going. If I can get to the trees, I tell myself, I can stop and figure out what to do next.
I burst through the last of the dead crops. For a moment I am in bright sunlight, exposed to anyone looking in this direction. I hear more shouting behind me and a loud bang which I imagine is a gun.
The shadows fall around me and there is eerie silence. I know that it is the deadening effect of the trees, but it is easy to imagine that I am safe here. As if the soldiers won’t be able to follow me in.
A dirt path runs through the trees and then disappears over the crest of a hill. I can’t see what lies beyond, but there might be more trees.
There is no sign of Harriet but that doesn’t mean she isn’t here. I allow myself a moment to catch my breath but no longer that a few seconds. The soldiers saw me come in here and they will arrive soon.
I start walking, looking for my daughter, looking for Michelle, even looking for Cassie. Seeing any of them now would give me some comfort, but there is no one here.
After a few minutes I have gone over the hill and see that this isn’t a small copse. This is a forest and it extends far into the distance. We could get lost in here. We could lose an army in here.
The thought fills me with some hope, but it doesn’t solve the most pressing problem: where is Harriet? I can’t hide her unless I know where she is.
“Harriet?” I say, keeping my voice low so that it doesn’t travel far. I know that the chances of her hearing me are low. “Michelle?”
Nothing.
“Cassie?”
There is no response and I start to wonder why I can’t hear the soldiers. They should be here by now. But the deadening effect of the forest continues to work its magic. I can’t hear them and, it is reasonable to assume, that they can’t hear me either.