Savage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (9 page)

A
nna was in the diner, applying a
fresh dressing to her patient’s wound.  The flesh was pale rather than
red, which was good; there seemed little sign of infection.  At first
she’d held little hope of the man surviving, but slowly her opinion was
beginning to change.  He had made it through the night, the morning, and
now the afternoon.  His breathing was steady and his eyelids flickered as
he dreamed.

“He may yet live,” said Rene.  “A fighter.”

Anna fastened the last of the fresh bandages and
stepped away.  “Fighters are the only people left.”

Rene nodded.  He offered Anna a glass of
water.  “You have cut your hair, Anna.  I like it.”

Anna took the glass and smiled.  She had cut her
scruffy brown hair to shoulder-length a few days ago.  Up until now,
nobody had noticed.  “Thank you,” she said.  How are we doing for
supplies?”

“Plenty of rain lately.  We have lots of
water…and fish – always so much fish.”

Anna chuckled.  “Yep, no lack of Omega-3 in our
diets.  Hopefully, Garfield will bring us back something to get our taste
buds dancing again.”

“You think he will return to us?”

“You think he won’t?”

Rene looked sad.  He always looked sad –
like a scorned puppy-dog.  “I think we have all forgotten the danger that
stalks the earth.  We have become too comfortable on this pier: fresh
fish, water,
safety
.  We forget the journey we
all took to get here.”

Anna thought back to the people who had not made the
journey: Nick, Grace, Dave,
Shawcross
, Jan, Mike…oh,
how she missed Mike.  Her next thoughts were of the creatures that had
ripped her past companions apart.  She could easily recall the screeching
wails of the infected and the soft moans of the dead.  Sometimes those
sounds filled the silence whenever she sat alone.  It would force her to
grab a paperback and read just to keep her mind focused on things other than
death.  Losing so many people had made her hard and cold – even more
than she had already been.  Before the infection, the death of her unborn
child haunted her daily.  Now the death of her unborn child was just one
of a hundred deaths she mourned.  It had left her heart unable to beat
with anything other than mistrust and scorn.  The infected and the dead
had removed her capacity for anything approaching joy.

Fortunately the infected – who ran and leapt
like ferocious tigers – had all but died out.  Only a living person
with a bite became infected, but once they died they would soon rise again and
continue their murderous quest as zombies.  The dead were slow and stupid
– they could be avoided in small numbers and were only a danger in great
crowds.  Fortunately, there were very few around the village and the pier. 
Anna surmised that the local residents had owned boats and fled to sea when the
first wave of infections began. 

When they found the pier, Anna, Rene, and the
half-dozen other survivors they’d met on the south coast, including Alistair,
had cleared the village of as many dead as they dared, before breaking into the
pier and securing the gate behind them.  The pier’s location, built almost
a half-mile out to sea on huge metal struts, had kept them safe for almost a
year.  The gate was the only way in and out and the narrow walkway made it
easy to corral the dead and deal with them in small groups. 
Perhaps
Rene is right
, Anna thought. 
Maybe we have become complacent.

Anna sipped from the water and placed the cup down on
a nearby table.  She glanced again at her resting patient.  From the
soft moans and the random sniffs coming from him, she was hopeful that he might
wake soon.  He would be in a lot of pain, no doubt, but he might just heal
if he was lucky. 
And then we’ll learn his story.

Just then, Poppy came racing through the doors of the
diner.

Anna put her hands up.  “Slow down, you’re going
to break your neck.  Who put so much sand in your knickers?”

The girl was panting, so much so that she couldn’t get
her words out.  “Out…on the…sea.  B-boats.  Ships.”

Anna’s eyes went wide.  “There are ships? 
Are they abandoned or are people on them?”

Poppy doubled over, hands on her thighs, still trying
to catch her breath.  “I don’t know.  I-I…
think
so.”

Anna pulled Poppy up straight and dragged her along as
she headed outside onto the deck.  Alistair and the other survivors were
huddled at the end of the pier, pointing and leaning over the rail. 
Beyond them was a huge fleet of ships and boats taking up the sea for miles.

“Can you believe it?” said Alistair.  His chubby
face was bright red and gleaming with excitement.  “It’s got to be the
Navy.  We’re rescued at last.”

Anna frowned. 
Rescued?  Rescued from
what?
  They were already safe.  How could they be any safer,
unless there was some island someplace with no dead whatsoever?  If this
was the Navy, then why did so many of the boats look like leisure cruisers and
yachts?  The fleet did not look like any navy she knew of; in fact there
was only one boat that even looked at all like military – a large grey frigate
taking up the centre. 
Maybe it’s escorting these other boats to
safety.  Perhaps it
is
the Navy after all. 

Despite her hopes, Anna didn’t buy it.

They waited nigh on an hour for the fleet of
mismatched ships, boats, and yachts to come closer.  Anna could make out numerous
men and women on the various crafts.  Many of the sailors waved a friendly
hand or blared their horns.  Poppy waved back at them all, jumping up and
down excitedly. 

Anna placed her arm on the girl’s back to calm
her.  “Let’s just wait and see what they want, Poppy.  We can’t trust
anybody until we know a little more about them.”

“But look at all the people.  There are women,
too.  They look friendly.  They’re waving.  HELLO!  YES,
HELLO, PLEASED TO MEET YOU.”

Alistair turned and scowled at the girl.  “They
can’t hear you, stupid.  They’re too far away.”

“You’re the one who’s stupid,” Poppy mumbled so that
Alistair did not hear.  Anna tried not to chuckle.  Alistair had no
idea how to deal with the little girl and grew increasingly flummoxed by her
with each passing day.

The vast fleet came to a stop.  Only a single
boat – a small white yacht – broke away and headed for the
shore. 
A greeting party
, Anna thought.  Her anxiety dissolved
slightly at the show of diplomatic convention.  She hoped the small group
coming ashore would extend the hand of friendship and offer trade, but the
truth was that there would be no way of knowing until the strangers were
already at the pier. 
I really wish Garfield and the others hadn’t left. 
There’re only a handful of us left.  If something bad happens…

Anna took a deep breath and cricked her neck to the
side.  She never played the victim and was irritated just for thinking
like one.  She parted the group of her fellow survivors and moved up to
the railing.  The group would be looking to her to take charge of the
situation. 
Time to put my mother hen suit on.

Patiently, she waited for the small white yacht to
reach the end of the pier.  It was a small boat and slow.  When it
finally arrived, Anna was shocked by what she saw.  Standing at the bow of
the yacht was a grim-looking man with a missing hand.  Where his left fist
should be was a jagged metal spear.  Sheathed inside a scabbard on his
belt was what looked like a medieval short
sword.
 
With his long blonde hair and muddy face, the man looked like a character from
a comic book.  His age seemed to be just north of thirty, but it was hard
to tell for sure.  Nowadays, even twenty-year-olds could have grey hair
and wrinkles.

Two other men accompanied the man with the
sword.  An older man with long grey hair stood at the wheel inside the
boat’s small pilothouse, while a third man, large and brooding, stood at the
back of the yacht.

“Hello, there,” the swordsman said.

“Hi,” said Anna abruptly.  The onus was not on
her to state her business, so she opted to remain quiet for the time
being.  Thankfully, Alistair and the others took her lead and did the
same.

“We are fellow survivors,” the swordsman
continued.  He spoke strangely, like he was acting out some part in a
play.  “Some twelve hundred in total.  We wish you no harm, only to
discuss a short matter.  May we disembark?”

“No,” said Anna.  “Not until you state your
business.”

“Very well.  I’m looking for a man.  A man
that tried to sink our flagship.”  He turned around and pointed to the
large frigate in the distance.  “The
HMS Kirkland
.  Do you see
it?”

“I see it,” said Anna.  The big ship was like a
bristly grey sea monster.  Radars and towers rose up from it like spines
and bristles, while its long pointed bow was like the sharp beak of a condor.
 “Why did this man try to sink it?”

“Because he’s a bloody
nutter
,
luv,” said the large man at the back of the yacht.  “Have you seen him or
not?”

Anna shrugged.  “Seen who?”

A look of irritation came over the swordsman’s
face.  When he spoke again, the nature of his speech had changed.  He
sounded less like a Shakespearian actor and more like a thug.  “Don’t piss
about, darling,” he snarled.  “Just answer the question.”

“Or else what?”  As soon as Anna said it, she
glanced out at the vast fleet of ships.  She wondered if she should tone
down her obstinacy and be a little more polite.  She knew little of these
three men or the people aboard the boats. 
Distrust is one thing,
she thought. 
But I shouldn’t go looking or a fight.

Alistair was spluttering, but he managed to speak up
before Anna had another chance.  “What did this man look like?” he asked.

The swordsman cleared his throat.  “Skinny
geezer, hair the colour of a two-pence piece.  A bullet wound in his
guts.”

Anna’s eyes went wide. 
We have the guy, all
right.  He’s lying unconscious in our diner right now.  Oh, Hell’s
bloody bells.

 “We have the man you’re looking for,” Alistair
said immediately.  He shrugged at Anna.  “Sorry, but I don’t think we
should get ourselves in the middle of this.  We don’t owe that man
anything.  We patched him up and kept him alive.  What else can we
do?”

“
I
patched him up,” Anna corrected.  “And
he’s been unconscious this whole time.  Shouldn’t we wait to hear what he
has to say before we hand him over to a bunch of pirates?”

Alistair shook his head.  “It’s not our
business.  You see all those ships out there, right?  This could be
our ticket out of here.”

“When did getting out of here become so goddamn
important?  We’re safe here.  We look after each other.  I don’t
think we should be in such a hurry to leave.  As much as I mistrust you,
Alistair, I trust those men even less.”

Alistair frowned, but then seemed to think for a
moment.  It became clear he wasn’t changing his mind.  “We can decide
what to do after we give these men what they want.”

Why should we?  Why do we owe them our immediate
trust? 
Just because their group is bigger than ours?
 
While Anna had no reason to protect the wounded man in
their diner, something inside of her was
loathe
to
hand him over.  There was something brutish about the way the huge fleet
had swarmed up on the pier out of nowhere and brought its demands.  She’d
never liked bullies in the old world, and she liked them even less now.

The swordsmen hit the edge of the yacht with his
spear, making a
clang
and getting their attention.  “Hurry up and
hand the man over,” he yelled up at them.  “I don’t have all day”

“Why should we do what you want?” Anna asked him.

“Because if you won’t hand him over then I’ll come up
there and take him myself.”

“You can try, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
 
Jesus, Anna.  Stop picking a fight.

“What are you doing?” Alistair whispered to her
irritably.  The man’s jowly chin was jiggling with frustration. 
“Let’s just hand the man over before something bad happens.”

“What’s happening?” asked Poppy.  “Are these men
bad?”

“They’re not bad,” Alistair told her.  “We’re
just helping them with something.”

Anna whispered back to Alistair in the same irritated
tone he had used on her.  “Why should we? 
Because
this guy is ordering us to?
  We don’t take orders from him.”

The swordsmen stood restlessly on the bow of his yacht
and let out a long, contemplative sigh.  He closed his eyes for a moment and
seemed to be thinking.  His light-blond hair was blowing in the breeze.
 After a while, he pointed his spear at them.  “This is going in a
bad direction.  I said I’m not here to hurt anyone, but I’m beginning to
change my mind.  You know that frigate we were talking about, the
HMS
Kirkland
?  Let me tell you a little bit about her.  She’s a
Type 27 ‘Duke’-class frigate, originally constructed for use by the Royal
Navy.  193 metres in length, she has a displacement of 6,000 tonnes. 
Most interestingly of all, though, are the two 30MM guns on each side,
starboard and portside.  The starboard gun is currently pointing right in
our direction.  If I give a signal, or if anything happens to me, this
place will be ripped apart in seconds by so many rounds of API incendiary fire
that you will think that Hell itself is raining down on you.”  The
swordsman raised an eyebrow as if to implore them.  “I suggest you people
let me up there and take me to the man you’re hiding.  My only interest is
taking the man back to the
Kirkland
to stand trial for his crimes.”