Spores (12 page)

The only clouds in the sky were the normal ones, white and fluffy. As he looked into that beautiful blue sky, it felt as though everything was back to normal. A couple of pigeons landed on the roof of a stone building across the street, then the illusion was shattered when the screaming began.

He jumped up, ran through the door and out into the bright sunlight but the noise was abruptly cut off before he managed to reach the edge of the building.

Miles skidded to a halt and slowly turned in a circle, drinking in the bizarre sights in this new and terrifying world. The view took his breath away. Once again, the city bustled with life but none of it was human. He stepped towards the edge, crouched down and stared into the city. Those things were everywhere. Thousands of the smaller creatures swarmed across roads, pavements and pedestrian zones.

Peppered amongst the profusion of primary coloured nightmares were the behemoths. Miles only saw a few of them but as far as he was concerned, one was too many. After getting up close and personal to two of the things in that shop, he’d rather have a continent between him and them.

Each behemoth had a collection of creatures clustered around it, sliding over each other’s bodies whilst stroking its vast flank and long neck with their legs and mandibles. They reminded him of worker ants caressing their queen.

Several of the creatures stopped stroking the monstrous nightmare stationed opposite the city library and suddenly shot away in a tight group. They scuttled towards an abandoned double decker bus parked beside a sandwich shop. Three beetle-like creatures, painted in vivid red climbed through two broken windows on the lower floor.

Within seconds, a child’s terrified screams shattered the silence. Miles watched with horror as one of the creatures pulled a small girl out of the bus window. Miles turned away, unable to watch. Her screams were abruptly cut off; he could only hope that her death had been quick and painless.

Edger was right; those fuckers knew the location of every human in the area. They were using the smaller creatures to collect them.

“Like a general directing his troops.”

How long would it be before it was his turn to be collected? Miles glanced back at the door. It wouldn’t take them that long to get through that. After a few moments, he plucked up enough courage to look down into the street. Thankfully, there was no sign of that little girl.

None of the creatures stayed close to the bus, why should they. They’d uncovered their prize and were now heading back to the general, who no doubt had fresh instructions. Miles discovered that the huge monster had already selected their next target. The behemoth was staring directly at Miles

He jumped up and ran back towards the door. What the hell was he thinking of by trapping himself on this bloody roof? He grabbed the edge of the door and thanked the lord that none of the bastards could fly. At least none that he’d discovered, anyway. He opened the door wide, desperately ticking off what options he had left. He was sure that this building would have somewhere safe to hide, a cellar or strong room but what good would that be? Was he not supposed to be getting back to the Institute? Miles barked out a bitter laugh, some knight in shining armour he’d turned out to be.

Miles looked down those stairs and a pair of large orange eyes stared back up at him. Oh, fuck. It was that blue armoured bastard. It must have followed him. He fell back and slammed the door shut; it wouldn’t take it long to get through that, the door was only thin wood. The door shuddered.

“What the fuck do I do now?”

He pushed both feet against the door and looked around the roof. That kid had entered this building through that door so there must be a way off. The door shuddered again, he got the feeling that blue bastard had just been joined be his pal. Miles listened to them scratching at the wood; this wasn’t going to hold them for long. The only other object on here with him was an oil drum, on the other side of the roof. Miles gingerly removed his feet, stood up, and sprinted across. The drum was full to the brim with stinking water, there was no way that he’d be able to move that.

Behind the drum was a small pile of sweets; a Mars bar, two Twix’s and a Milky Way. Had he just stumbled upon Alistair’s secret horde? He saw a few more wrappers closer to the edge. Miles picked up the Mars bar and followed the trail. He laughed aloud when he saw the ladder.

“Of course! How else could he have gotten on here?”

The metal ladder led from the roof of this building, across a narrow alley and into the open window of an office block. Where Alistair had found it was beyond him. Miles imagined the lad lugging that bloody thing up a dozen flights of stairs and wondered why he’d gone to so much bother. The door behind him splintered and the question flew from his head. He yelped and climbed onto the ladder. It wobbled when Miles put his weight on it but he didn’t hesitate. He’d have rather plummeted to his death than have those filthy bastards consume him. Miles edged his way across, his ears attuned to the sound of those things scurrying towards him. What if some of those things were already inside that other building? He could be unwittingly crawling to his own doom.

Two more of the things reached the edge of the building; they saw Miles staring at him and growled before turning back. He wondered what had happened to Alistair. Had they punished him for letting their prize escape or was the lad still sitting at that table, reading his books?

Miles sighed, too many questions. He turned around and took in his new surroundings, how long would he have before they cornered him again. His stomach growled, he’d dropped that Mar bar before climbing onto the ladder. Looks like he’d have to starve for a while longer.

This room reminded him of his old desk job back in Ipswich. Then again, he supposed the thousands of other office buildings scattered across the country would have given Miles similar nostalgic memories. They all seemed to follow the same generic pattern.

He padded past a mahogany coloured desk on his way to the open door then stopped. Miles gazed at the monitor sat on the desk, next to a black keyboard. Its previous owner had covered the edge of their monitor with stickers; he recognised a Dalek and the Tardis but none of the other pictures. At his old insurance company, none of the employees would have been able to deface company property like that. His boss, Martin, would have had a seizure if anyone had placed stackers over their monitor. Miles closed his eyes, remembering the occasion when his boss had bollocked Miles for bringing his Empire Strikes Back coffee cup to work.

“I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.” Whispered, Miles.

His boss had lost his job because of what Miles had done.

For weeks after the coffee cup incident, Martin had attempted to make Miles’s life as miserable as possible. He’d eventually found out that Martin believed that films with daft robots and spaceships belonged to the teenage and under population segment. Martin had made it his oath to rid Miles of this childish passion.

Just three weeks before the Wasting outbreak, Miles had broken into the man’s office and deliberately spilt a cup full of cold coffee over Martin’s desk. He’d ensured that a dozen folders belonging to the company’s most treasured clients were scattered over the desk before he knocked the cup over.

He remembered that intense surge of savage glee when he saw the old man’s face when he opened his office door the next day. He also remembered the terrible guilt that ate into him when he discovered that Martin had been sacked. The man only had a couple of years left before retirement. His whole life revolved around that company.

“How many people in my life have I let down?” he said, sniffing.

He pulled the stickers off the monitor, screwed them into a ball and threw them on the floor. Miles hurried out of the room before the place could trigger any more bad memories.

The room led out into the narrow corridor. He saw a reception counter at the end and opposite that was a vending machine, even from where he stood; Miles could see someone had broken into it.

“Could that be the source of Alistair’s food?”

He ran along the beige carpet, hoping to God that the lad hadn’t emptied the machine. Miles picked up a packet of crisps, stuffed them into his front pocket and grinned when he saw the huge pile of chocolate bars that had spilled onto the floor.

Miles tore the wrapping off a dairy milk bar and took a huge mouthful whilst wondering if there was a cold drinks machine somewhere around here. What he would do for a can of Coke.

“Or a bottle of beer,” he said, before biting off another chunk of chocolate.

He picked up a couple more chocolate bars, pulled out the crisps and shoved the bars into his pocket. Miles dropped the crisps back on the floor.

“Never much cared for salt and vinegar anyway.”

As he pushed through a set of fire doors and padded into a large conference room, his optimism rose a little. Despite their huge numbers, they were still only animals. Given time, a large number of the fuckers would probably be able to eat their way through the half a dozen doors that separated him from the streets, but by that time Miles could have escaped into another building.

He now saw how Alistair had been able to travel across the city and why he’d lugged those bloody ladder up those stairs. Most of the buildings were relatively secure; it was the on streets where the danger lay.

“And I threw the ladder away.”

He wandered over to a window a looked out. He saw none of the behemoths but he did see plenty of the smaller creatures clustered over a small white commercial van. Could there be someone trapped inside there? If that was the case then he hoped they were able to drive away and out of danger.

“And take them all with you so I can get away.”

He couldn’t see any of them on the street directly below. What chance did he have of running across the street and reaching the next building before any of them noticed? Miles figured that the chances were good that he could make it as long as the next building wasn’t locked up. It also seemed that it was the only choice he had left.

“At least I still have a choice.”

He hurried through the conference room and through the next set of doors, looking for the stairway. It would be beneficial to his journey to find some sort of tool, something to aid him in breaking into a building should the need arise.

He abruptly stopped beside by a red fire extinguisher hung off the corridor wall. He had just realised that he still didn’t know which direction he ought to be going in. the Institute was in the centre, that bit he knew. Miles should have used the opportunity to locate the place while he was on that roof.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Miles. That’s what you are a …”

He shut his mouth and pressed his body against the wall; he’d heard something shuffling towards him. Miles lifted the extinguisher off its bracket. There was no way that he was going out without a fight. The noise grew louder. He twisted the handle and jumped out, screaming.

A long haired man, wearing a black jacket and a bright blue pair of flared trousers screamed back at him before falling backwards with his filthy hands covering his face.

“Oh, Jesus,” gasped Miles. “I’m ever so sorry. I thought you were one of those things.”

He put the extinguisher down on the carpet and helped the stranger up.

“I’m fine,” replied the man. “Wow, talk about a close shave. Who’d thought an extinguisher could be used as an offensive weapon. The buggers are everywhere aren’t they.”

The man smiled, displaying a perfect set of white teeth. They seemed so out of place in such a haggard looking face. Miles wondered if they were false.

“Listen to me rabbit on, old motormouth, that’s me.” He held out his hand. “Sorry, it’s been just ages since I’ve seen another face.”

Miles gripped the man’s hand, trying not to cringe, his flesh felt odd, spongy. “I’m Miles.”

“Cool name. I’m Dustin. My woman is downstairs; she’d love to meet you.”

Miles nodded, glad of the company, even if he did appear to be a bit weird, he mentally shrugged, say that, Dustin didn’t seem as odd as Alistair. He looked harmless enough.

Dustin received it as if the bar was pure gold. “I’m almost speechless,” he uttered. “For me? Man, you hardly know me yet you’re offering to like break bread. Oh, hell. This is so uncool.”

He pushed the bar back into Mile’s astonished hands then fled down the hall. “I’m so sorry.” He shouted back.

Miles blinked, what the hell had he done wrong? Had he just offended him?

“Wait up!” Shouted Miles but the man had already gone. Miles ran after him, he had to know what he’d done. More importantly, Miles wanted to find out how the man had stayed alive.

Miles saw a set of doors slowly closing at the end of the corridor and put on an extra burst of speed, he didn’t want Dustin to get away from him. As he reached the doors, Miles thought he saw something bright blue out of the corner of his eye but when he looked back, there was nothing there.

“Fuck off, Mr. Imagination. I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment.” Miles pushed open the doors and found himself on a staircase. He gazed up and down the stairwell but saw no sign of him.

“Shit, I’ve lost him.” Then he remembered Dustin saying his girlfriend was below and raced down the steps. Miles heard a door a few flights down swing shut; he nodded to himself, knowing he wasn’t far behind. Miles reached the bottom floor and pushed through the doors, grinning. He saw his quarry stood statue still, a few metres away. Miles still had the chocolate bar in his hands.