Vengeance (Twenty-Five Percent Book 3) (9 page)

It didn’t take long to reach the start of the bridge, where the road left the ground and began to ascend to the top of the high arc. The last place where Alex could change his mind and get off the road. Purposely keeping his eyes straight ahead, he carried on, leading the untiring eaters towards where the military had bombed the bridge in a futile attempt to stop the Sarcester horde’s progress.

Despite what he’d told Micah, Alex didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what he was going to do once he reached the end of this side of the ruined bridge. All he knew was that he had to stop the horde getting to his home, and to do that he needed to lead the eaters off the bridge, whatever it took.

Both helicopters made several more attempts to get to him. Each time the gunfire from both the rifle he carried and the APV now almost a mile away forced them to turn back. It was obvious they didn’t want to risk serious damage so far from any safe haven. And if they crashed near the horde, poetic justice as it would be, they would be slaughtered. Alex didn’t blame them for being unwilling to risk more than a half-hearted attempt to reach him every now and then.

Ahead of him, the ragged edge of the destroyed part of the bridge came into view. He glanced back to see the horde two hundred feet behind him, still mindlessly following his lead. Picking up speed, he drove as close as he felt was safe then left the bike to walk to the edge.

“Alex? What are you doing?” Leon shouted to him.

Across the seventy foot gap, standing back from the edge on their side in case it gave way, Leon, Brian, Sam, Claire and Janie were looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“It didn’t work,” he shouted back. “I had to lead them up here. The horde’s right behind me.”

“But how are you going to get away?” Sam shouted.

Alex looked into the huge box girder beneath their feet with its service pipes torn apart, shattered ends bending towards the water far below. Huge cracked chunks of asphalt and concrete dangled from the twisted steel framework.

His gaze shifted down to the river a hundred and fifty feet below and his mouth turned to sandpaper. Back behind him, spanning the incline of the bridge, thousands of eaters crammed the way back.

There was only one way for him to go – over the abyss. Either that or down into it.

“I’m going to jump over there on the bike,” he shouted back, trying to imbue his voice with a confidence he didn’t feel. “You need to get back. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Are you
insane
?” Janie yelled. “You’ll never make it.”

The voices of the others raised joined her in their agreement that the jump was too far. It wasn’t helpful. At this point, he had no choice but to try.

Turning his back on them, he ran back to his motorcycle, fired up the engine and did a u-turn, gunning it back towards the eaters. At twenty feet from the slavering crowd, he put one boot to the ground and yanked the front of the bike right, using all his strength to keep upright as the back end swerved around one hundred and eighty degrees.

Focusing on the sheer drop ahead of him, he revved the engine harder and harder until hands reached for him and he released the clutch. With the squeal of rubber on asphalt, the bike leaped ahead.

Alex leaned forward, willing the bike on as he sped towards the gap. Sweat dripped down his face, his breath fogging the visor of his helmet.

Faster. He needed to go faster.

Then the edge of the broken bridge was rushing towards him.

Thundering heart drowning out the roar of the engine, he gasped in a breath as the bike hit the precipice.

The cracked asphalt gave way beneath him. The bike juddered, threatening to wrench from Alex’s grip as the front wheel jerked and lost traction.

Then he was in the air.

For a few moments as Alex and the bike soared over the chasm, he thought he was going to make it to the other side. Then the front wheel began to dip and he knew he wouldn’t.

The hope that he would at least make it into the box girder vanished as the bike hurtled towards one of the huge support pillars. Someone shouted his name. Making a split second decision, he let go of the handles, pushing himself backwards from the bike. Moments later he watched it smash into the concrete as he plummeted towards the river far below.

Holding himself straight, arms clamped to his sides and toes pointed, Alex braced himself.

He hit the water like a bullet.

The impact slammed through his body, threatening to crush every bone. Frigid water swirled around him, engulfing, suffocating, dragging him under. There was a brief moment of panic as it rushed into the helmet, drenching his face.

Then blackness claimed him.

Micah’s heart hit his throat as Alex plunged into the river. “
Get over there!
”

The Sea Holly’s engine roared and he tore his jacket off as they sped for the bridge. The boat lurched beneath his feet, forcing him to widen his stance to stay upright. His eyes fixed on the spot where Alex had entered the water as he ripped his boots from his feet. By the time they reached the expanding rings in the water beneath the bridge, Micah was climbing over the railing.

Taking two deep breaths, he dived in.

He fought the urge to gasp as the freezing water jolted his body. Visibility was no more than six feet, but a trail of bubbles led down into the darkness. He followed it for what seemed like forever, until his lungs were screaming for oxygen and lights began to flash on the edges of his vision.

Then he saw a shape.

He kicked downwards, reaching out his right hand, and his fingers brushed something smooth and hard. He stretched further and found arms and a torso. Grabbing hold of Alex’s body, he swam for the surface.

Micah burst into the sunlight and gulped in frantic lungfuls of air. Clutched in his arms, Alex wasn’t moving. Water sloshed inside his helmet. Micah pushed the visor up and it splashed out to reveal Alex’s still face, his eyes closed. Micah fumbled with the strap, his fingers numb with cold. Finally getting it unfastened, he tugged the helmet off and tossed it aside to sink into the depths of the river.

“Alex,” he shouted, shaking him. There was no response.

Something hit the water nearby. Moments later, another heavy object splashed down, then another. Startled, Micah looked up. Eaters were falling from the bridge directly overhead.

The blue hull of the Sea Holly approached slowly, pulling in close.

“Micah,” Jean called, “over here.”

He pulled Alex the last few feet to where she was leaning over the side and reaching out to them. Everett dashed from the cabin and knelt next to her, helping her pull Alex’s still form from the water. Micah hauled himself up after him and crawled to his side.

An eater hit the railing at the side of the boat and bounced into the water.

“I need to move the boat,” Everett said, getting to his feet and disappearing into the cabin.

Micah flattened his hand onto Alex’s chest to feel for movement. How long had he been in the water? One minute? Two? More? He had no idea. When he pressed two fingers to his neck, he felt nothing.

“Is he breathing?” Jean said.

Micah shook his head. He moved his hands to the centre of Alex’s chest and noticed how badly they were shaking.

Calm down. I need to calm down.

As the boat picked up speed, motoring away from the bridge, Micah linked his hands over Alex’s heart and began to pump. He hadn’t done CPR for a long time and he suddenly wasn’t even sure he was doing it right. Were his hands in the correct position? Had he got the rhythm right?

After counting thirty compressions he tilted Alex’s head back, pinched his nose, and covered his mouth with his own, breathing into him twice. Nothing changed. He started compressions again.

Thirty more.

Two breaths.

Check for heartbeat.

His own heart pounded against his ribs as he pumped Alex’s. Hot tears mingled with the cold river water clinging to his cheeks. The compressions were becoming more desperate.

“Breathe, Alex,” he sobbed. “Please, breathe.”

He was surrounded by eaters.

They reached for him on every side, surging towards him, their fingers grasping at his clothing. A dozen hands grabbed him, pulling him towards their gaping mouths. Bodies crushed around him. He tried to gasp in air, but a weight on his chest compressed his ribcage.

He couldn’t breathe. He was going to suffocate.

Light blazed into his eyes.

Alex gasped in a breath and was immediately wracked by violent coughs as his mouth filled with water. Hands grasped his shoulder and rolled him onto his side, pressing his cheek against rough wood. He continued to cough, gasping in small bursts of air between spasms until his lungs cleared and he lay still, panting and exhausted.

“Just relax,” a woman’s voice said. “Breathe.”

The instructions were unnecessary. The only thing Alex could do was breathe, and he was relieved to be able to do that. After a while, he opened his eyes.

He was lying on a wooden floor. A deck, he decided, by the way it was moving beneath him. Someone was kneeling in front of him. He swivelled his eyes up. It was Jean. Beyond her Micah was sitting on the deck, hugging his knees. He was soaking wet, his blond hair plastered to his head and the water dripping from his clothing forming a puddle around him. When Alex focused on him he looked away, wiping the back of one fist across his eyes.

Alex pushed himself to a sitting position. The movement caused more coughing.

Jean’s hand rested on his arm as she anxiously peered into his face. “Are you all right?”

He had to wait for his body to stop trying to hack up a lung before he could answer. “I’ll be okay, I think. My chest just feels congested. And it hurts here.” He put a hand to the centre of his torso where it ached every time he took a breath.

“That must be where Micah gave you CPR,” she said. “When he got you on board, you weren’t breathing. We were worried for a moment there we’d lost you. I think if you weren’t a Survivor, we probably would have.”

Alex looked over at Micah again. His friend was staring out across the water.

“I’ll get you two some blankets and towels,” Jean said, rising. Alex spotted Micah’s bike at the back of the boat as she walked into the cabin.

“So was that your plan?” Micah said, looking at Alex when she’d gone. “Throw yourself off the bridge and almost kill yourself?”

“To be honest, I kind of lied about having a plan.” Alex smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You know me and plans.”

Micah turned away again.

“Thanks,” Alex said, “for saving my life. You can definitely put that on the list.”

He expected Micah to laugh, or at least smile. Instead he stood without even acknowledging Alex had spoken and followed Jean into the cabin.

“You’re welcome, Alex. Don’t mention it, Alex. That’s what friends are for, Alex.” Alex sighed, irritated. “What’s wrong with him?”

He pushed himself to his feet and froze, shivering in his wet clothes as he stared around him in astonishment. Floating in the river all around the boat and as far as he could see were bodies. Thousands and thousands of bodies.

Jean returned a minute later.

“Thank you,” he said, looking beyond her to the cabin as he took the towel, blanket and dry clothing she handed him. Micah hadn’t come back.

Jean leaned towards him and lowered her voice. “He needs a few minutes. You really scared him.”

Alex remembered back to how frantic he’d been when Micah was bitten, thinking he was going to die. He sighed and nodded. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. You should get out of those wet clothes.”

When she continued to watch him, Alex cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Smirking, she turned her back and heaved a sigh. “Deprive a woman of a little fun, why don’t you.”

“Jean,” he said as he stripped off his soaked clothing, “you are shameless.”

Once he was dry and dressed and wrapped, still shivering, in the blanket, he padded in his bare feet below deck to find Micah huddled in his own blanket, sipping from a steaming mug of what turned out to be hot chocolate.

Everett handed him his own mug and left to join Jean on the deck, muttering as he climbed the stairs. “I suppose I’ll just go and clean up the mess you’ve made on my boat then.”

Alex sat and took a sip of the drink, enjoying the feel of the heat sliding down his oesophagus and blossoming in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Micah didn’t reply.

“How many do you think drowned?” Alex said, trying for a change in subject.

Micah took a sip of his cocoa. “I don’t know. Ridge radioed just now. He said Boot’s lot managed to coax them back with the fake pheromones, but it looked like the horde is significantly smaller. He said the rest are heading upriver, presumably to the next bridge.” He looked up, towards the deck. “There are a lot in the river.”

“Yeah.” Alex didn’t think he’d forget the sight of all the bodies in the water anytime soon. Even now, he could hear faint thuds on the hull as they moved through the floating graveyard. Ultimately their plan had worked, and yet it didn’t really feel like a victory. “It should hold them up for another day or so.”

“Yeah,” Micah said, staring into his mug.

“I am grateful for what you did.”

Micah looked at Alex for the first time since he’d got there. “Could you just not do anything stupid like that again?”

Alex kept his face straight. “Are you really asking me to not do anything stupid?”

The ghost of a smile flitted across Micah’s lips. “Alright, just try to warn me in future.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And no more freezing rivers.”

“You don’t like swimming? It’s great exercise.”

“Next time I’ll leave you to drown.”

By the time the Holly motored into the marina where they’d first met Everett and his boat, Sam, Leon, Claire, Brian and Janie were there to meet them. The moment Alex stepped from the boat, Sam ran to him and hugged him hard.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, his voice muffled against Alex’s shoulder.

Alex patted him on the back. “I’m okay, thanks to Micah.”

Sam let go and threw his arms around Micah.

“That was insane,” Brian said. “You are certifiably out of your mind.”

“Lost another bike, I see,” Janie said.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have to claim on the insurance,” Alex said. “My premiums would be through the roof.”

Micah swept an arm towards the boat where his motorcycle stood on the deck and said in a smug tone, “Still got mine.”

Once they’d unloaded Micah’s bike, Leon, Sam, Claire, Janie and Brian piled into the Toyota Yaris they’d arrived in. Brian drove because he wouldn’t fit anywhere else and Leon sat beside him because neither would he. Sam looked more than comfortable squashed up against Claire in the back seat.

Jean came to say her goodbyes to Alex and Micah.

“Everett’s going to take us out to sea where it’s safe, until this is all over,” she said. “He’s really very sweet.”

Alex looked over to where Everett was studying the deck where Micah’s bike had been and shaking his head, a scowl on his face.

“He hides it well.”

Jean gave a snort of laughter. “Well, yes. But if you need a boat for anything, call us.” She held up the radio they had given her. “And if you jump into the river again, try not to drown.”

Micah shook his head. “Please don’t encourage him.”

With the Sea Holly motoring out of the marina, Alex climbed onto the motorcycle behind Micah. “I hope Kenny’s place has another helmet I can get when I pick up a bike. I thought I might try out the Harley this time...”

“Not the Harley,” Micah said.

“Why not the...”

“I have dibs on the Harley.”

“When did you call dibs on the Harley?”

“When we were last there. I clearly said I wanted to get the Harley after everything was back to normal. Or as normal as it’s going to get after all this.”

“I don’t remember the word dibs ever coming into the conversation.”

“Then I’m doing it now. Dibs on the Harley.”

“You are so childish.”

Micah pulled on his helmet. “Don’t care, as long as I get the Harley. If you’re very nice to me, I might let you ride it occasionally.”