Purification (13 page)

Lawrence took the map back and folded it down to a more manageable size. He pointed to the general area where they were presently hiding. He had spent the last half hour writing down basic directions to Monkton airfield for the survivors to follow and had just asked for a volunteer to navigate. Showing more enthusiasm than he had done at any time during the previous month, Guest anxiously began to read through the directions and cross-referenced them to the map, plotting the route to Bigginford and the airfield beyond.

‘You travel with Cooper in the personnel carrier then,’

Michael suggested. ‘Armitage can follow behind in the truck and I’ll follow him.’

‘Not in your motorhome you won’t,’ Steve Armitage said from across the room. He’d been outside to check over the three vehicles and had just returned, breathless and cold. He wiped his greasy hands on a dirty rag which he threw into a dark corner. ‘It’s knackered. Axle’s broken.

I’m not surprised after the journey we had last night.’

‘Shit,’

Michael

cursed.

‘What are we going to do now then?’ Emma asked, feeling strangely saddened by the loss of their vehicle.

Although she had often detested being inside it, she had spent a lot of time there with Michael. It was where they had been able to be alone and intimate. She had come to think of it as their own private space. A small, uncomfortable and increasingly cramped and squalid private space, granted, but it had been their own.

‘We’ll have to go out and find something else,’ said Donna who, until then, had been sitting nearby and listening silently. ‘We’re going to need another vehicle.

There’s bound to be something round here that we can use.’

‘There still aren’t too many bodies around out there,’

Armitage added. ‘I reckon we’ll be all right to go and look around providing we’re sensible and we’re not outside too long. Maybe a few of us should go out and work our way through the car parks?’

‘Can’t we try and manage with just two trucks?’ Emma wondered. Michael shook his head.

‘Don’t think so,’ he answered. ‘We might have been able to fit everyone in at a push, but I think we need to try and take as much stuff from here as we can get our hands on. Seems stupid to leave it all behind now we’re here, doesn’t it? We don’t know when we might need it.’

‘He’s right,’ Cooper agreed. No-one argued.

‘You’re going to have to get yourselves two vehicles,’

Stonehouse announced. Stood at the back of the small group of people, the soldier stood up. An imposing figure in his heavy protective gear, flanked by one of his men and with his rifle held at his side, his sudden movement silenced the survivors.

‘Why’s that?’ Cooper asked, genuinely confused.

‘Because we’re going back to the base,’ he replied. ‘It’s our only option.’

‘Don’t be fucking stupid,’ snapped Croft. ‘The place was overrun. You can’t go back there.’

‘We can and we will. We can’t stay out here.’

‘But we need your…’

‘We need to get back underground. We’re completely fucked if we stay up here.’

‘Doesn’t look like you’ve got much choice,’ Michael hissed. ‘You’re dead whatever you do. Might as well come with us and…’

‘And what? Sit and watch you lot run? Sit in these bloody suits and wait to die? Sit and…’

‘At least you’d be giving us a chance,’ Croft yelled, his face suddenly red with emotion. ‘Do things your way and everyone loses.’

‘Tough.’

‘Bastard,’ he spat and he lurched towards the soldier, limping and wincing as he landed heavily on his feet, aggravating his still painful injuries. Stonehouse lifted a single gloved hand and pushed the doctor to one side.

Already off-balance, he fell awkwardly to the ground at the soldier’s booted feet. Stonehouse lifted the butt of his rifle and held it poised inches above Croft’s upturned face.

‘Leave it, Phil,’ Cooper said. He turned to face Stonehouse. ‘Just go.’

‘What the fucking hell are you doing?’ Croft demanded as he crawled away from Stonehouse. ‘Have you gone completely fucking mad?’

Cooper looked down at him.

‘No,’ he replied.

Stonehouse stood and watched, unnerved by the unexpected response he had received from his ex-colleague. He had anticipated some kind of resistance from him at least.

‘Christ,’ the incensed doctor continued as he picked himself up and brushed himself down, ‘there are only four of them. We need that vehicle, Cooper. We’ll end up driving to Bigginford in a convoy of twenty bloody cars if we’re not careful.’

‘No we won’t,’ Cooper said calmly. All eyes were on him. He began to walk towards the exit and away from the confrontation when he suddenly stopped, turned round and ran back in the opposite direction, diving through the air and smashing into Stonehouse and the soldier standing next to him. In the sudden confusion the two soldiers were knocked flying and sent tumbling to the ground.

Stonehouse was on all fours. Cooper grabbed hold of his facemask underneath his chin and yanked it off his face.

The second soldier, immediately aware of what was happening, began to scramble away. Cooper jumped onto his back and pulled and tugged at his suit, his mask and his breathing apparatus until it came free and he could see the soldier’s exposed body underneath. Aware of the other two soldiers running away and fleeing deeper into the vast store, he stood back and readied himself should the troopers on the ground attack.

Stonehouse was the first to drag himself back up onto his feet. He ran angrily towards Cooper, grabbing his rifle off the floor as he moved. By the time he’d managed to stand completely upright the infection had caught him.

Choking, and with a look of pained surprise on his frozen face, he fell back on top of the other soldier who was already suffocating. Fighting for breath, he shook and convulsed, still grasping his rifle tightly. Eyes bulging, he stared at the faces of Cooper and the others who stared back at him as he asphyxiated and died.

‘You killed them,’ gasped Donna in revulsion. The survivors stood and stared in disbelief. ‘You killed them you bastard.’

‘They were dead already,’ Cooper responded with disdain.

14

Michael, Baxter and Cooper ran together through the silent car parks scattered around the industrial estate, desperately searching for another suitable vehicle to get them to the airfield. The number of bodies around was still lower than they’d expected and it stood to reason that the bulk of the population who had died in this area had, over the days and weeks, been dragged away in the direction of the military base. All three men were acutely aware of the fact that the danger was reduced but far from gone, and that more random bodies might appear at any moment.

‘Van,’ Michael said as he pushed his way past another lurching corpse. ‘Over there.’

He pointed to the far right corner of the large rectangular car park they had just entered. On its own next to a red-brick office building was a red mail van. On the tarmac in front of it lay the gnarled body of a postal delivery worker.

The woman’s motionless corpse was twisted and withered like a piece of washed-up driftwood. The strap of an empty mail bag was wrapped around her neck, its contents having long since been scattered and blown away by the wind.

Cooper ran round and yanked open the driver’s door.

Michael frantically grabbed the keys from the corpse’s wizened hand and threw them over to him before turning back and kicking out at two bodies which had stumbled uncomfortably close. He had Stonehouse’s rifle slung across his back. With nervous uncertainty he swung it round and primed it as Cooper had earlier shown him how.

He’d taught him how to shoot while they’d been underground but, until now, he’d never actually needed to fire a weapon. Bullets were okay when they were faced with just a handful of corpses, but Michael and the others usually had to deal with many, many more than this.

Holding his breath he brutally shoved the barrel of the rifle into the dark hole in the middle of one body’s face where its nose had once been and pulled the trigger. A deafening crack rang around the car park, echoing off the walls of every building in the immediate vicinity. Michael was knocked back by the unexpected force of the weapon. He tripped and fell as a shower of crimson gore and splintered bone erupted from the back of the creature’s head.

‘Push it!’ Cooper shouted from the front of the van. He couldn’t get it started. The engine wouldn’t turn over.

Michael picked himself up and shot the second body in the side of the head before swinging the rifle around onto his back again and running round to the rear of the vehicle where Baxter was already pushing. He shoulder charged the van, the impact helping it to roll forward slightly.

Cooper jumped out of his seat and began to push and shove against the driver’s door and steering wheel.

‘Christ, Cooper, have you still got the bloody handbrake on?’ Baxter half-joked, red-faced and wheezing as he strained against the back of the van. ‘Come on!’ He threw his full weight forward again and, with his head to one side, stared anxiously at more gangling, decomposing bodies which were creeping dangerously close.

With all three of the men pushing the van finally began to achieve some momentum. It started to roll across the width of the car park with relative ease and Cooper hurled himself back inside. He slammed his foot down on the clutch and tried again to start the engine. After a few painfully long seconds of ugly mechanical groaning and straining, the machine finally spluttered into life. He accelerated away, clearing the engine and leaving Michael and Baxter to run after him through belching clouds of dirty fumes which spilled from the van’s exhaust after weeks without use. He quickly turned the vehicle around and returned to collect the others, taking only the briefest of diversions to plough down two meandering cadavers which pointlessly stumbled after them.

Breathlessly, and without saying another word, the men motored back to the warehouse.

Inside the building Emma had managed to find the two remaining soldiers who had disappeared in fear of their lives. They were hiding together in a large storeroom.

‘Just leave us alone,’ one of the soldiers spat as they heard Emma approaching. His voice was high-pitched and strained, full of desperation and fear. ‘That bloke’s a fucking psychopath. He’s always been the same. He’ll fucking kill us.’

The frightened trooper cowered away in the shadows.

Metres away from him Kelly Harcourt pressed herself back against a storage rack hoping she would melt into the shadows, her heart thumping in her chest.

‘He’s no psychopath,’ Emma said as she took a few cautious steps further into the room, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the two frightened figures. ‘He’s a survivor, that’s all.’ She peered into the room, sure that she had just seen a flicker of movement. ‘You’d probably have done the same if you were in his position.’

She didn’t find it easy defending Cooper’s virtually indefensible actions, no matter how relieved she was that he had acted so quickly. She’d also forgotten that, many weeks ago now, these two troopers had served alongside him. Perhaps there was much about his character they knew that she didn’t.

‘He’ll do it again,’ the male soldier whimpered. ‘All he’s got to do is open our suits and we’ve fucking had it.

That’s all that any of you have to do.’

‘But no-one’s going to do that to you, are they?’ Emma sighed. ‘Why the hell would we?’

‘You’ll do it if you have to,’ Harcourt shouted, the sudden volume and direction of her voice giving her location away. ‘You’d kill us just as quickly as you get rid of those bloody things outside.’

‘Personally I couldn’t, but maybe you’re right, maybe some people could. The point is we shouldn’t have to. The only reason that Cooper did what he did was to safeguard the group. He’s just looking out for himself and for the rest of us, that’s all. As long as you don’t do anything to put us at risk, you’ll be okay and…’

She stopped talking. Just ahead and to her right Kelly Harcourt slumped against the racking and slid down to the ground. Emma could see one of her feet sticking out into an aisle. She slowly walked towards her and crouched down at the side of the terrified soldier. Her facemask was clouded and blurred with condensation. She lifted her head and looked up at Emma.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Harcourt admitted, struggling to keep her composure. The anger and fear in her voice had suddenly given way to desperation and pain. ‘I can’t handle this.’

‘It’s all right,’ Emma soothed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘We’re all struggling to handle this, we just drag ourselves along from day to day.’ She paused, not sure if Harcourt was listening or whether it was even worth continuing. ‘Listen, I don’t believe in bullshit so I’ll be straight with you, you two have got the worst deal of all here. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. You’re trapped in those bloody suits and it must be hell, but you don’t have much of a choice, do you? You can try and get back to your base, you can stay here or you can come with us. Like I said, as long as you don’t put anyone at risk then…’

‘Then what?’ she demanded. ‘Then your friend won’t kill us.’

Emma sighed with frustration. She stood up and began to walk back towards the door, keen to get back to the others.

‘Look, we’re too busy trying to keep ourselves alive here. No-one’s interested in killing you.’

Without waiting for a response she turned and walked away.

15

Strangely calm and uncharacteristically oblivious to the potential threat of the growing crowd of restless bodies on the other side of the chain-link fence, the survivors readied themselves to leave. Their brief and unexpected respite at the warehouse had given them precious time to regroup and reorganise themselves and the arrival of Lawrence and Chase in the early hours had given some direction to their frantic and previously directionless escape from the bunker.

Now without the motorhome many of the group had been crammed into the back of the personnel carrier, which had proved to be slightly less cramped and more comfortable than the back of the prison truck. Cooper took the wheel of the military vehicle with Peter Guest at his side while Steve Armitage took up his now familiar seat at the controls of the second truck. Armitage had begun to fiercely guard his position. Apart from the fact that very few other people could have driven the truck, the responsibility, power and control which he attached to the role made him feel worthwhile and alive. Strange, he thought, that what had previously always felt like such an ordinary and menial task should now give him such purpose.