Twenty-Five Percent (Book 3): Vengeance Page 13

  He reached the bed and paused, unsure if he wanted to see whatever was behind it. Steeling himself, he stepped forward and looked over the top. Sitting on the floor, knees bent, eyes closed and head leaning against the wall behind him, was Micah.

  Alex took a moment to breathe out a silent “thank you” before he walked around the bed and crouched in front of him, touching his knee gently.

  Micah started and his eyes flew open. He stared at Alex for a few seconds. “Am I alive, or are we both dead?” he said in a loud voice.

  “I’m pretty sure we’re both alive.”

  He looked up at the blood splattered across the ceiling. “That’s a relief. I was sort of hoping heaven would look nicer than this.” He pointed to one ear and said, “I think the blast may have affected my hearing.”

  “I think you may be right,” Alex said, smiling. “You okay otherwise?”

  Micah looked down at himself. “I think so. Kind of a surprising twist considering a grenade went off ten feet away from me.”

  Alex stood and offered his hand, pulling Micah upright and grabbing his elbow when he swayed unsteadily.

  Micah put a hand to his temple. “My head is pounding.”

  “Grenades will do that to you.”

  Porter’s voice drifted from the living room. “Don’t come in here if your stomach isn’t made of steel.”

  Micah led the way out of the bedroom and stopped.

  When he saw him, Porter smiled. “You made it.”

  “Mm hmm,” Micah said, looking like he was trying to avoid seeing the carnage around him. “Could we maybe leave before I ruin my tough guy image and throw up everywhere?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.”

  They filed out into the corridor and walked to the stairwell where the others greeted Micah with variations on the theme of, “Holy crap, you’re still alive!” The volume of his responding “thanks” had reduced slightly from in the bedroom, so his hearing seemed to be improving.

  “Is it really that bad in there?” Collins said, indicating the open flat door.

  “A grenade went off in a room full of eaters,” Alex said. “Use your imagination.”

  “I want to see,” he said, heading along the corridor.

  “Why?” Dent said.

  “Because I’ve never seen something like that before.”

  “I’m staying here,” Rick said. “In fact...” He backed out onto the stairwell landing. “...I think I’ll actually stay here.”

  Collins disappeared into the flat. He stayed there for almost five seconds. It may have been less. When he emerged he looked uncomfortable and slightly green.

  “I’ve seen it,” he said, walking rapidly back to them. “Don’t ever need to see it again. If we’re done here, I could use some fresh air.”

  There was a patch of overgrown grass in front of the building. Once outside, in an unspoken collective decision everyone headed for it and spent a minute wiping off their shoes.

  “What happened with blowing up the buildings?” Micah said as they worked.

  “I got the eaters there and Bates’ explosives worked,” Alex said. “I didn’t check how much of the horde had been taken out before I came to find you though.”

  There was a pause before Micah spoke again. “Reg?”

  Alex pursed his lips and nodded. Micah looked back at his shoes as he rubbed them on the grass.

  Micah’s bike lay on its side where it had ended up when he’d crashed. Together, they hoisted it upright.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, running his hand over the myriad of dents and scratches. He flipped the start switch and the engine roared into life, sounding none the worse for wear. He patted the seat. “That’s my girl.”

  “You’ve given it a name, haven’t you?” Alex said.

  Micah’s lips twitched. “Might have.”

  “You’d better be careful my sofa doesn’t find out. It can hold a grudge like you wouldn’t believe.”

  He shrugged with one shoulder. “The sofa can’t get outside, the bike can’t get in. It’s the perfect setup.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds then dissolved into the kind of giggles you only get after a life or death situation. Beside the APV, Ridgewell began to laugh with them. Soon, everyone else was joining in.

  Alex laughed until his stomach muscles hurt and he was gasping for breath. Considering their circumstances, it felt strange. But good.

  A couple of minutes later, when they’d collected themselves, Collins sidled up to Micah and said, “Don’t tell anyone, but the APV is called Angelina.”

  It was a good five minutes before they stopped laughing again.

  18

  Darren jumped to the ground from the door of the helicopter and strode towards the group of men gathered around a cluster of benches, clenching his fists to disguise his trembling hands.

  He glanced at the second helicopter a little way across the hotel car park. The hole in the window was covered with a multiple layered patch of duct tape. Shaking his head slightly, he thought about how MacCallum, outgunned and outnumbered, had not only faced them down, but succeeded in driving them off. Of course, he’d had help. Darren rolled his right shoulder and winced. It would be purple by tomorrow.

  But there was no denying the white-eye had guts. He was an unremitting pain in Darren’s arse, but he wasn’t a coward. Or maybe he was just out of his mind. Who else would stay and face a man determined to kill him who had command over the hordes of eaters?

  Then there was the incident on the bridge. Darren had been shocked to see him still alive after that one. Insanity was looking more and more likely, the more he thought about it.

  “How’s the shoulder, Pinner?” he said to the man sitting on a bench with blood soaking the front of his sleeve.

  “Bloody white-eye shot me,” the pilot said. “He shot me! Through the bloody window. How did that even happen?”

  Darren had to quell the sudden urge to laugh. “Is it bad?”

  “I’ll live, but it hurts like hell. It’s a flesh wound, but it doesn’t feel like one. Harris bandaged me up.”

  “Can you fly?”

  “If I have to. I’d prefer to get some painkillers first though.”

  “We’ll find you something. There must be some inside.” Darren looked around at the little group. None of them seemed to want to meet his gaze, except for Timothy Pinner who had a good excuse for his failure, having been shot and everything.

  “Is it bad?” Jessup said.

  “They got maybe a third of the horde with those buildings.”

  Darren kept his face and voice carefully neutral. No way would he reveal how impressed he’d been with the plan. He wasn’t sure how many there were in the horde now, but after the bridge and the collapsing buildings they’d be lucky to have a third of what they started out with. It was still a scary amount of eaters, but he was no longer convinced it would be enough. Not that he cared, beyond staying alive himself.

  He looked at the lorry on the far side of the car park. “How is she?”

  “You think any of us is going to check on that bitch?” Fitzwilliam, their other pilot, was sporting a very large bruise on his cheek and his eye was beginning to swell shut. He was also holding one arm awkwardly. “Next time, she goes with you, Tim.”

  “Sod that,” Pinner said.

  Darren hid his smile. It had taken all of them in the helicopter to get her under control. In hindsight, it was almost funny. “There won’t be a next time. From now on we’re more careful. And she stays with Mr Boot.”

  “Tell Boot that,” Ian Baker muttered, then his eyes widened. He glanced nervously at Darren. “I mean...”

  “Relax, Baker,” he said.

  Baker flashed a small, nervous smile and didn’t relax at all.

  “Right,” Darren said, “let’s get inside.”

  There was an immediate hush. The fifteen huge men darted nervous glances at each other like they were five year olds who’d been caught doing somethin
g naughty.

  Darren heaved a sigh. “And yes, I will be the one to tell Mr Boot what happened.”

  His audience breathed out.

  “Uh, Bish?” Fitzwilliam said, looking at the lorry. “What about her?”

  “We’ll take her with us.” He started towards the lorry, stopping when no one followed him. “Well?”

  The rest of them, minus Pinner, reluctantly joined him.

  Half an hour and a few bruises later, they were inside the Premier Inn just outside Sarcester where Boot had chosen to set up ‘operations’; his word, not Darren’s. Darren made his way to the bedroom that had been transformed into an office for their illustrious leader.

  There weren’t many of Boot’s security guards in the hotel, but he kept his game face on anyway, the one that implied a complete lack of concern, just in case anyone saw him.

  But the truth was, he was concerned. As he walked along the hallway leading to Boot’s office his heart was beating a little faster than he would have liked. After losing a third of the horde at the bridge, Boot had been, to put it mildly, unhappy. Chester had been the one to break the news, but Darren had the misfortune to be in the room. During the ten minute screaming rant Boot’s face had turned so red Darren wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d fallen down and died of a brain aneurysm.

  This time it was Darren’s turn to deliver the bad news, since Chester hadn’t been with them in either helicopter. With Boot’s severe unpredictability nowadays, there was a chance Darren would find himself looking down the barrel of the silver plated pistol he wore at all times. Chester had known Boot for over twenty years and was almost like a surrogate father to him. The problem was, Boot had no such emotional connection to Darren.

  Reaching the door, he took a deep breath and knocked.

  “Enter,” Boot’s imperious voice commanded.

  Darren checked his pistol was secure in his shoulder holster, unclipped the safety strap in case he needed quick access, and opened the door.

  Harvey Boot was sitting on a neutral coloured sofa in the neutral coloured room, reading a book. He was wearing one of his usual custom-tailored suits. Darren had no issue with his boss wearing a suit all the time, but he wished he’d let the rest of them wear something more comfortable than the Men In Black outfits. Something more practical for being in the middle of an eater apocalypse.

  As usual, Boot’s devoted PA, Valerie Worth, was sitting nearby. Chester was standing by the window. When Darren glanced at him, he raised his eyebrows. Darren gave a tiny shake of his head. Chester’s responding scowl didn’t fill Darren with confidence.

  “You have something to report, Mr Frobisher?” Boot said, neither looking up nor inviting Darren to sit.

  “Yes, Sir.” He glanced at Chester’s impassive face again, hoping for some support. “Uh, we led the eaters in towards the city, as you told us to. We also managed to trap the soldiers who’ve been tailing us.”

  “So they’re no longer a problem?” Boot said, still not looking up.

  “Um, not exactly.” Darren related the bare facts of what happened when MacCallum and Clarke had turned up, and what he’d found when he subsequently returned to the scene and came across a significant proportion of the horde crushed and the rest in disarray.

  When he’d finished, Boot finally raised his eyes.

  “Just to clarify, you had the APV surrounded with a horde thousands strong, ready to lead them into the city, and now, with the intervention of just two men armed with a couple of rifles, not only are the soldiers not dead, but several thousand of my eaters are. Is that correct?”

  Darren let out a slow breath and flexed his hands, feeling the pistol press reassuringly against his side. “Yes, Sir.”

  Boot stood abruptly and Darren gave an involuntary flinch. Boot ignored him and walked to stand by a chest of drawers beneath the window, staring towards the tall buildings of the city two miles away. One hand clenched and unclenched while the other ran absently over a large beige vase on top of the drawers. It was half a minute before he spoke.

  “Well, what I suggest you do now is take the helicopters back out there, round up the horde, and find MacCallum and Clarke. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Uh, yes, Sir,” Darren replied, unnerved by Boot’s apparent calm.

  Boot continued to stare out the window. Unsure what to do next, Darren backed towards the door and slipped out as quietly as he could. He’d gone three steps from the door before something vase-sized shattered against the other side.

  Darren walked quickly away.

  19

  “So what’s the plan now?” Lieutenant Dent said.

  They were about to leave the building where Micah had almost blown himself up and the question caught Alex off guard. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do next.

  “Um, well, first I suppose we should find out how many eaters are left. Jerry might be able to see from where he is. He’s the closest.”

  Micah unclipped the radio from his belt. The black casing was somewhat more scratched and dented than it had been the last time Alex saw it.

  Micah switched it on and got static. “Oh, hey, it still works. These things are tough.” He dialled in the frequency the spotters were using and held out the radio so the gathered group could hear. “Jerry?”

  After a few seconds, Jerry’s voice replied. “Yo.”

  “What’s happening, Jerry?”

  “Not a lot,” Jerry replied, his voice distorted through the radio’s speaker. “Looks like dropping the buildings on them took out maybe a third of the horde, maybe more. It’s hard to tell in all the dust. The rest, the ones that can still walk anyway, are just milling around. That was a spectacular show, by the way. But now it’s pretty gross down there, even from up here.”

  “Any sign of the helicopters?” Alex said.

  “One showed up, looked around, and flew off again. What happened to them anyway?”

  “One I shot through the window. I think I may have hit the pilot. The other, I have no idea. If anything changes, let us know.”

  “Will do. This is Eagle One, out.”

  Pete’s voice replaced Jerry’s. “I thought I was Eagle One.”

  “You’re Eagle Three.”

  “Three? Who’s Eagle Two then?”

  “I am.” The voice belonged to Melissa, a forty-something divorcee who had managed to survive the outbreak by hiding in her house and being very, very careful. She had been one of the first to sign up to be a spotter, one of a small army of people armed with binoculars and stationed strategically on various tall buildings around the city.

  There were a few moments of silence before Pete spoke again. “Oh, well yes, of course, Melissa.” He gave a small laugh.

  Micah turned the radio off. “If Pete doesn’t ask Melissa out after all this I’m going to make him do it, I don’t care that he’s a Survivor. It’s painful to watch him around her.”

  The radio crackled and Janie’s voice emerged. “Alex? You and Micah still in one piece?”

  “More or less,” Alex replied.

  “Me and Leon are on our way back to East Town to make sure everyone’s ready for whatever comes next. What are you going to do now?”

  Why did people keep asking him that? “I suppose...”

  Sam cut in. “Alex? Alex, are you there?”

  The scared tone in his voice had Alex immediately on alert. “I’m here, Sam. What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a horde... No, get everyone back behind the fence!”

  Alex grabbed the radio from Micah’s hand. “Sam, what’s happening?”

  “The bus we were using broke down. We thought it would be safe to walk because it’s only a mile or so, but a horde came out of nowhere. We’re trapped.”

  Alex tried to keep the fear from his voice. “Where are you?”

  “In a park on... where are we?... Samson Avenue. They have us surrounded in the play area.”

  Leon’s voice cut in. “Sam, are Pat and my girls all right?” />
  “They’re okay, Leon. I’m right with them.”

  “We’re on our way,” Alex said, already running for his bike.

  The soldiers were climbing into the APV.

  “We’ll follow you,” Dent called out.

  Even at a speed that would have got Alex arrested before the outbreak, it took them five excruciatingly long minutes to reach the park on Samson Avenue.

  They were stupid to have moved everyone to watch the main horde. It was a big city and they didn’t have enough people to cover the entire perimeter, but still, he should have thought of this. Whether or not this horde had anything to do with Boot, they should have been covering all the angles.

  Sam’s group was composed of some of the men, women and children who had been sheltering in East Town, as well as those of Alex’s neighbours who were going with them to the buildings where they would be hidden from Boot’s army. Maggie and Len Carlson and their two small children, Paul and Millie, the family who had helped Alex and Micah on the second day of the outbreak, were with them, as were the family Alex and Micah rescued when their car was under attack by eaters, Jane and Roy, Luke, Miriam and Aaron.

  Patrice, Emma and Katie were there.

  Halfway to the park, they reached the river. The bridge they planned to cross was blocked with cars yet to be moved. There was no way past for the APV

  “You keep going,” Ridgewell called. “We’ll find another way.”

  “Just go south east,” Micah shouted back.

  He and Alex wound their motorbikes through the blockage and continued on.

  When they finally reached the public park, they drove straight in through the tall iron gates, riding through the lengthening grass and zigzagging around stands of trees and weed-strewn flowerbeds. It was a big area, covering more than sixty acres near the centre of the city, but Alex knew it well from his days on patrol and he headed directly for the children’s play area. When they got there they found bodies littering the fenced in area and the gate open.

  Alex scanned the dead, heart pounding. To his relief they were all eaters.