Twenty-Five Percent (Book 3): Vengeance Page 11

  Micah looked back at him from the opposite end of the corridor. “Okay. I’ll let Janie know and finish this floor.”

  Alex nodded and stepped back into the stairwell, letting the half glazed fire door swing shut behind him as he headed for the top floor in the five storey block. He took the stairs two at a time, trying not to think about what was on the ground floor.

  “Try growing a pair,” Bates had said when Alex raised his concerns. “It’s all stable until it’s detonated.”

  Alex didn’t know what Bates had used in the homemade explosives that were now packed around the building supports, and the fact that Bates seemed to have detailed knowledge of how to make them was disturbing in the extreme. But it served their purposes for now. If circumstances were different, Alex was fairly sure he’d have had to arrest the man.

  Reaching the top floor, he jogged to the first door and banged his fist against it. When no one answered, he tried again. After another ten seconds he simply kicked the door in. A quick search of the two-bedroomed flat confirmed it was empty. The smaller of the bedrooms contained a cot and baby clothes were scattered over the floor. Alex didn’t let himself speculate on what had happened to the former occupants.

  He returned to the corridor and moved on to the next door. After completing four more flats, he reached the final one in the building. Following the prerequisite half a minute of knocking and waiting, he raised his foot.

  The door opened.

  Alex almost fell over as he frantically tried to avoid kicking the elderly man standing before him in the stomach.

  “If you’re trying to rob me,” the man said, “there are plenty of other empty flats you could try first.”

  He didn’t seem afraid, just mildly sad as he leaned on his walking frame and breathed heavily, as though getting to the door had been akin to running an uphill marathon.

  Alex straightened. “Sorry, I thought this one was empty. I’m not here to rob you.”

  The old man studied him for a few seconds then backed away from the door. “You’d better come in then.”

  Leaving the door open, Alex followed him into a small living room filled with a peculiar mix of old and new furniture. It smelled floral, with an undercurrent of stale body odour.

  “Would you like something to drink?” the man said, heading for a nineteen sixties sideboard with a collection of bottles gathered on the top, most of them half empty.

  “Um, no. Sir...”

  “Call me Reg,” Reg said, unscrewing the top from a bottle of whiskey.

  “Reg, I’m sorry, but I’m clearing the building. You’re going to have to come with me. I can help you pack up anything you need, but we don’t have long.”

  Reg hobbled to a nearby armchair and dropped into it with a grunt. A cylinder of oxygen stood next to him. “Don’t have long before what?” he said, talking a sip from the glass.

  Alex glanced out the window, half expecting to see the horde in the distance even though he knew they were still too far away. “There’s no way to sugar coat this. There’s an eater horde coming, a huge horde, and we have to stop them. They’ll be going right past here in about forty minutes and this building, along with three others, is going to be collapsed on top of them. So you need to come with me.” When Reg didn’t move, Alex added, “Now. Please.”

  Reg finished his whiskey and placed the glass down next to a framed photo on what looked like a bedside cabinet.

  Alex had to restrain himself from picking the old man up and carrying him into the bedroom to get his belongings. “Reg...”

  “How are you going to set off the explosives?”

  “Uh, we have remote triggers so we can do it when everyone’s clear.”

  Reg nodded as if it was what he wanted to hear. “I’m not going.”

  “What?”

  Reg drew in a deep breath and promptly started coughing. He grabbed the mask attached to the tank and held it to his face until he was breathing relatively easily. “What’s your name?”

  “Alex.”

  “Sit down, Alex.”

  “Reg, there’s...”

  “Sit down.”

  Alex swallowed his reply and sat on a sofa by the fifty inch flat-screen TV mounted on one wall. He glanced at the window again. This was no time for a discussion.

  Reg indicated the oxygen tank. “As you can see, I’m not a well man.”

  “We can...” Alex stopped when Reg held up his hand.

  “I’m eighty-four years old and I’m in the end stages of emphysema. I can barely get across the room without having to stop and get my breath back. I won’t survive out there.”

  “But Reg, we have to bring the building down. It’s already rigged to blow. I can carry you, get you somewhere safe.”

  “Alex?” Micah’s voice called from outside the flat.

  “In here.”

  “What are you...” Micah walked in and saw Reg. “Oh.”

  “Micah, this is Reg. He says he’s too ill to leave.”

  “We can take you somewhere safe, where people will take care of you,” Micah said, staying by the door.

  Reg picked up the framed photo beside him and turned it round for them to see. On it, Reg sat next to a white haired lady, looking a little younger than he did now. Their hands were clasped together on his knee. Around them stood a man and woman in their forties, two teenagers, a boy and a girl, and a younger boy. They were all laughing, as if someone had just told a very funny joke.

  Reg’s fingers trembled as he gripped the frame.

  “This is my family,” he said. “My wife, Leann, died from cancer a year ago in this flat. I wanted to go with her, but I held on for my son and his family, for my grandchildren.” His hands began to shake harder. “A month ago, when this all started, my son called me to say they were coming to get me and we were all going to leave the city. But they never came. Even after the eaters left, they didn’t come. I know they’re dead.” He placed the photo down and, ignoring a tear rolling down his face, he opened the cabinet and took out a shoe box, removing the lid. It was filled with bottles of pills. “I brought these in here for when I finally got up the courage to take them. Every morning for the last month I have woken up determined that would be the day I ended my life. Every night I went to bed cursing myself for my cowardice in not having done it. But no more.” He closed the box and replaced it in the cabinet. “I’m dead already; my body just hasn’t caught on yet.”

  “Reg, we can’t blow up the building with you in it,” Micah said softly.

  “Let me do it,” Reg said. “Let me trigger the explosives. This way, my death will mean something. I’ll be useful. I haven’t been any use for a long time. And I won’t back out this time, not when lives are depending on me.”

  Alex couldn’t answer, didn’t know how to answer. He looked at Micah for help.

  “We need to talk about this,” Micah said.

  “You do whatever you need to,” Reg said, “but I’m not leaving.”

  Alex followed Micah out of the flat.

  “What are we going to do?” Micah said, sagging against the wall. “This building needs to come down. Without it, this won’t be nearly as effective.”

  “We could force him to leave,” Alex said. “I could carry him screaming and cursing and crying out into a world where his family are dead. He’d hate us for it and probably try to kill himself the first chance he got, if he didn’t just die from the shock anyway.”

  “Are you saying we should let him do it?”

  “I’m saying I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do about anything.” Suddenly angry, he punched one fist into the exposed brick wall, wincing when the rough surface dug into his knuckles. “Damn it.”

  Micah pushed himself away from the wall and walked back into Reg’s flat. When Alex caught up, he was handing a small black box to Reg.

  “When you see the building across the road go down,” Micah said, “flip this switch.”

  Reg nodded, wrapping his wize
ned hand around the box. “You can count on me.”

  “Are you absolutely sure about this?” Micah said. “We can still take you with us.”

  Reg looked at the photo. “I’m sure.”

  Micah stared at him for a moment then turned to walk away. Reg caught hold of his hand. Alex saw tears fill the old man’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said. He looked at Alex. “Thank you both.”

  Alex tried to produce a smile, but couldn’t. This wasn’t right. They couldn’t leave him to die. Too many people had lost their lives for even one to die for nothing.

  “Reg, I...”

  The satellite phone Alex was carrying with him buzzed. He took it from his pocket and answered. The first thing he heard was gunfire.

  “Ridge?” he said.

  For a few seconds, no one answered. Then, “They tricked us.” It was Rick’s voice. “Bastards split the horde without us seeing, circled around behind us. We’re trapped. We could use some help.”

  More gunfire sounded. In the background thuds and a metallic scraping could be heard, along with moans. A deep, sonorous, tidal wave of moans.

  “Where are you?” Alex said.

  “Maybe a mile from you, on the edge of town. Not to pressure you or anything, but please hurry.”

  “We’re on our way.” He replaced the phone. “We have to go.”

  “Just go,” Reg said, waving them away. “I’ll be ready.”

  Alex glanced at the window then back to the old man, reluctant to leave him.

  “Reg,” Micah said, “if you change your mind, hang a sheet or something out your window. We’ll see and come and get you. You don’t have to do this.”

  Reg simply smiled sadly as Micah grasped Alex’s arm and pulled him towards the door.

  “We can’t save everyone,” Micah said when they reached the stairwell. “Especially if they don’t want to be saved.”

  They descended to the ground floor in silence. With every step, Alex fought the urge to go back up and bring Reg down with them.

  “What’s wrong?” Janie said as they ran to where she and Leon were waiting where they’d left their bikes.

  “Got a call from Rick,” Alex said, shrugging the rifle he’d left there onto his back and climbing onto his new motorcycle. “They’re in trouble. We’re going to lead the horde away from them and through here, like we planned. Where’re Brian and the others?”

  “They already drove to the rendezvous point,” Leon said. “We were waiting for you two.”

  “Get back there with them. Blow it when the horde’s here and you see us get clear.”

  “That last part’s especially important,” Micah said as he pulled on his helmet and flipped up his visor.

  “Just be careful,” Janie said, looking uncharacteristically worried.

  Micah flashed her a grin. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I’d just hate to see another couple of bikes get ruined,” she replied with a shrug.

  “Silly me,” Micah said, still smiling.

  Leon and Janie headed for the car they’d brought and Alex and Micah took off in the opposite direction. As they drove past Reg’s building, Alex looked up at his window. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a figure standing there.

  Lowering his gaze to the road ahead, he followed Micah towards the outskirts of the city.

  14

  It took them less than two minutes to reach the horde.

  They came to a halt at the top of a rise a hundred feet away and Alex flipped up his visor to get a better look. Or, more accurately, to help him believe what he was seeing.

  The noise was deafening, the air saturated with the ravenous moans of thousands of riled up eaters. Over the heads of the horde, Alex could see the epicentre of their excitement pressed into the corner formed by two industrial buildings across a car park a couple of hundred yards down the hill. The silver Lamborghini was wedged against the wall with the APV parked sideways in front of it, apparently in an attempt to offer some protection for the more vulnerable car. Eaters surrounded both vehicles like ants, crushed against the sides, swarming over the top of the low riding sports car, scrabbling at the outside of the APV.

  Alex could see Dent and Rick through the windscreen of the Lamborghini. Even from this distance he could tell they were terrified. Collins, Ridgewell, Porter and Hudson were more protected within the APV, but could do nothing for the two in the car. If any one of them set a foot outside, they’d be torn to shreds.

  Two of the ever present helicopters were hovering in the distance, clearly content to let the eaters do the job for them while they stayed safely away from the APV’s weapons.

  “Is this what happens when they release the pheromones to attack?” Micah said, staring at the frightening scene in horror.

  “We have to get the eaters away from them.” Alex dug the phone from his pocket and dialled, watching Rick in the car as he answered.

  “Alex?”

  “We’re here.” He gave a jaunty wave when Rick looked up, searching for them. “We’re going to lead the horde away. Be ready to roll.”

  Rick gave a desperate sounding laugh. “Yeah, we’re just chillaxing here, but we’ll be...”

  He stopped abruptly as an eater scrambling over the car fell onto the windscreen. A spider web of cracks snaked out from the point of impact. A startled cry emanated from the phone as the glass gave way and sagged inwards. Then the call cut off.

  Alex saw Rick and Dent scramble back from the compromised windscreen.

  “Hey!” Micah shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  None of the eaters paid them any attention.

  “Together on three,” Alex said. “One, two, HEYYYYYYY!”

  The combined volume of their roars carried to the nearest eaters. A few turned towards them. With some more yelling and arm waving, those few started in their direction and a few more looked round. A wave of distraction travelled sluggishly away from them as the natural pheromones kicked in and more and more eaters turned to see what was going on. But it wasn’t working fast enough. The Lamborghini’s windscreen had vanished and several eaters were reaching through the empty space. He couldn’t see Dent or Rick.

  They needed to get the attention of the whole horde, right now.

  “Oh, hell,” he muttered, pulling his pistol from the holster at his waist and aiming it into the air. He fired three shots.

  As one, the horde turned to look at Alex and Micah. It took a few moments for their combined mind to come to the conclusion that people on bikes were easier prey than people in cars, then they started towards them.

  So did the helicopters.

  “Oh, hell,” Alex repeated as he turned his bike to leave.

  The closest chopper reached them in seconds and opened fire, cutting a swath through the horde as it bore down on Alex and Micah speeding away. Alex swerved to his left as the gunfire reached them, bumping over the pavement and into a car park wrapped around a Pizza Hut. He glanced back to see Micah veer in the opposite direction for a side street.

  Unable to make the sharp turn, the helicopter hurtled past between them.

  Alex gasped as Micah’s bike clipped the rear end of an abandoned car blocking the road and spun out of control, crashing onto its side and skidding into a lamppost. Micah was thrown off, tumbling over and over across the ground until he hit another car.

  “Micah!”

  The second helicopter crested a building, flying straight for them. Tearing his eyes from Micah’s still form, Alex swung his rifle around and fired, desperately trying to draw attention away from him. Bullets pinged off the metal hull. One lucky shot somehow penetrated a window, punching a hole into the interior, and the chopper wobbled in the air. He kept firing until it rose higher and peeled away over the buildings.

  On the ground eighty feet away, Micah still wasn’t moving.

  The first helicopter reappeared, circling back towards them. Alex raised the rifle again and pulled the trigger. It fired twi
ce and clicked empty.

  Moans from his right signalled the arrival of the horde. The fastest of the eaters were almost on them.

  “Micah!” Alex yelled, gripping the throttle as the helicopter heading for him fired.

  The Pizza Hut sign shattered, showering the spot he’d just vacated with red plastic and glass. Bumping back over the pavement onto the road, he saw Micah raise his head. To his right, the helicopter was circling for another pass. In front of him, the joggers in the horde split, some heading for him, the others for Micah.

  “Micah!” he screamed again.

  Micah pushed to his feet, swaying unsteadily. Alex drove towards him, but at that moment the horde arrived, pouring along the road between them and forcing him to veer away. For a few heart-stopping seconds his view was blocked by the eaters swarming towards Micah.

  Then he saw a figure run up the steps to the door of a block of flats. Micah flipped up his visor and waved.

  “Keep going!” he shouted. “I’m okay.”

  Before Alex could answer, he turned and ran into the building. A frightening number of eaters followed.

  Torn between going to help Micah and leading the horde towards their trap, Alex forgot about the helicopter until it was almost on top of him. He gunned the bike as the downdraft washed against his face, speeding away along the road. The chopper followed, tearing up the asphalt with both machine guns. Not fast enough to outrun it, Alex zigzagged, trying to avoid being hit.

  The road suddenly exploded in front of him. The grenade’s shockwave thumped into his chest, debris showering his path. Yanking the front wheel to the right, he lost control and fell, skidding across the road away from the detonation. The helicopter flew overhead and stopped to hover close by, weapons trained on him as he pushed out from beneath the bike.

  Alex pulled off his helmet and stood, head held high, heart beating out of his chest. Staring his death in the face, he had a deep urge to close his eyes. He kept them open. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

  Suddenly, the helicopter lurched to one side. It spun in a circle, rose into the air then dropped almost to the ground. Alex threw himself down as it whizzed over at head height, then watched it stagger into the distance, looking like it had just stumbled out of the pub at closing time.