Beneath the Flesh: They kept all the demons out … except one (7 page)

It thudded past the door, only pausing for a moment.

They waited.

A few seconds later, the demon came back. It paused outside the door, seeming to rock back and forth. Jess got the uncomfortable feeling it was looking at them.

Luke aimed his machine gun.

The demon thumped the door. Then it moved away.

The door handle creaked down. It hadn't gone – just moved out of shot. The handle clicked, and with a creak the door slipped open.

A hand came though. An actual hand! It was barely visible in the dark. Then Jess realised there was something wrong about it. It was too small, like a child's hand. It looked like it had too many fingers. All the fingers were moving constantly, clenching into a fist and then stretching out again.

The hand reached further in. A small, delicate-looking forearm, too childlike for a creature this size. An elbow came into view.

A second elbow came into view. Then a third. An entire arm, multi joined, snaked out from behind the door, with its continually clenching and unclenching hand at the end.

Outside in the corridor came the shriek-bark of a dog.

The arm withdrew instantly, and with astonishing speed the thudding, irregular footsteps of the creature moved away. It a couple of seconds it was already in the distance, moving off, by the sound of it, towards the main corridor.

Silence reigned.

“Fuck,” whispered Luke.

“Let's move to another ward,” said Jess. “In case it comes back to look at this one.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

They moved as quietly as they could, though the cart's clattering wheels now seemed impossibly loud. Jess left the door open at the same angle the creature had, and they settled in the ward across the hallway.

Very faintly, they heard in the distance another bark cut off in the middle, another groan.

Of the eight beds in that ward, they pushed one against the doorway, and surrounded it with another three to keep it steady.

Finally, for themselves, they chose the furthest bed, and pulled the curtain all the way around it, except for a small slit with which they could watch the door. It was almost completely black. According to Jess's watch, it was only 9 o'clock.

For the next hour they sat on the bed in the pitch black, holding their guns, watching the door. The dog-killer demon came back at one point, thumping along the corridor, but it passed by quickly without trying the door.

After that, nothing.

Eventually, they put their guns aside, still in easy reach, and lay down.

The presence lightly skittered across Jess's mind.

She fell asleep.

Bad dreams:

Alone. Trapped. Everyone's forgotten about you. Nobody to turn to. Caught alone between two extremes, neither one thing nor the other. Anger. Fear. Killing the vermin to try and make it all go away.

It wasn't meant to be like this, was it?

The feelings of dislocation, of pure wrongness grew, peaked, and –

Jess woke.

She was lying on her left side. It was too dark to see. She could feel the hard presence of the bed beneath her. She could feel Luke lying on the bed beside her, hear his slow, steady breathing.

And she could hear something else. Something rustling softly in the darkness. It was close. Almost above her, in fact. She took a second to steady herself so she wouldn't fumble, then reached up quickly and quietly to grab this pistol and the flashlight.

She shined the flashlight into the darkness. A circle of pale white wall appeared. No demons. She moved the flashlight beam towards the rustling and saw.

Thin brown stalks. Multi-jointed. Half a dozen of them at least, waving about in the air. Like spider legs.

Then she realised. Following the spider legs down to their origin, she saw they were spouting out from the bottom her her jacket. She felt crawling against her belly as they made the journey from whatever hole they'd come from, underneath her clothes.

She stifled a cry of revulsion.

The spider-legs, as if aware she'd noticed them exploring, began to slowly retreat. She watched them for a few seconds, then grabbed one of them.

The spider-leg she'd grabbed stopped retreating. It was dry to the touch, almost like a thin twig, but warm. And far stronger. She felt the presence in her mind twist, and the spider-leg wrapped around her hand. Not in an aggressive way. Almost lovingly it seemed.

She pulled at it.

The presence twitched. A white-hot bolt of pain lanced through her belly.

It came so suddenly, and was so intense, that this time she really did cry out. The spider-leg unwound as she opened her hand, and retreated into her body.

But before the tip of it vanished beneath her jacket, another flashlight spot appeared on it.

Luke had woken up, and he's seen the spider-legs.

Things were silent for a few seconds. Jess felt the presence in her mind skitter about for a moment, then settle down to the point she could ignore it.

“What was that?” said Luke.

Jess put the gun and the flashlight back on the table. She took a deep breath and rolled on her back she she wasn't facing away from him, even though they could still see each other.

At last, she decided on what to say: “This isn't the place to talk about it.”

“Where are we going to talk about it, then?”

“When we get home.”

“Really? When have we talked about it before?”

Jess said nothing.

“Jess, we never talk about it. Not properly …”

“It's happened before,” she said. Better to admit it now than have it prised out of her, she thought.

“How long?” Luke's voice in the dark was soft, almost a whisper, but not because he was afraid of being overheard.

“Since I saw the … the spider-legs?”

“Yeah.”

“A few days. I saw them just before you told me about the plan to come here.”

“Alright.”

She reached over with her left hand and took his hand. He squeezed back, but it didn't feel right.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“What good would it have done? You'd have just worried about it.”

“I deserve to know.”

Jess pulled her hand away. “Oh, do you? Do you really? Why is that? I never asked for all this help you're giving me. I just want to be useful. I …”

Luke waited for her to finish.”

“I don't want to be this … this pathetic and helpless little thing, do you understand? That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to be told again how unlucky I was, and how brave I was being. Do you understand?”

A pause.

“I guess so.”

That was a no, Jess thought. But she didn't bother to push forward with it.

She felt the presence crawling about in her head again. She didn't plan to tell Luke about that, either, but it did remind her of something.

“What happened with Eric …” she said. “That's worse than being turned into a runner. And it's what's happening to me. Different infection, yeah, but same sort of thing.
I don't want to end up like that.
You hear me?”

“I know,” said Luke. “You won't. We'll find a way to cure you.”

“And if you don't?”

“We will!”

“That's not good enough. If it gets too bad, Luke, I want you to kill me.” She stopped him as he was about to speak. “I mean it! I'm scared. I really fucking am. Not of dead. Well, not just death, but of being helpless like that. You have to promise, if the operation doesn't work, if things get too bad, you …”

A moment of silence in the darkness. “If everything fails, if absolutely everything fails, I'll do it.”

“That's all I need.”

After that, the conversation fell away. They were both still silent. Jess realised she was crying. She rubbed away the tears with the back of the hand and hoped it wouldn't still be visible in the morning. In her head, the presence shifted briefly, then fell silent.

Foxglove Compound was built around one of the satellite towns of Bridgham. At first glance, it seemed much the same as Paradise Compound: Large walls topped with barbed wire (though here there were gun-towers too), a welcoming committee of heavily armed guards as the van rolled in.

The guards kept their guns ready even as Richard and the drivers exited the van. It wasn't until a few seconds later, when voice from across the loading area called out, “At ease!”, that they stopped.

The loading area looked like it had originally been a car park. Now a high wire fence surrounded it. On the far side of the car park, hiding in salvage-made garages, four vehicles were waiting. Two vans, more heavily armoured than even Paradise's. And next to them, the tractor units for trucks.

The owner of the voice strode towards them. He looked like the sort of person Richard wouldn't want to get into a fair fight with.

He eyed Richard with suspicion bordering on contempt. “And who are you?”

“Richard Carter. I'm a representative from Paradise Compound. I thought it would be helpful to see how things are going.”

“We weren't told you'd be coming.”

“The decision was only made a couple of days ago.” Richard gave him a smile tuned to seem friendly but not weak.

The man grunted. “To be expected, I suppose. Name's McAllister.” He offered a crushing handshake. A guard came up and offered the trade letter. McAllister took it, then turned back to Richard. “Come with me.”

Richard had never been to Foxglove before. He'd come to Paradise Compound by a different route, and from what he'd heard, he didn't want to make this his new home anytime soon. Foxglove's population was high than Paradise, but its insistence on continuing salvage trips into Bridgham and elsewhere meant it also lost people at a higher rate.

As he followed McAllister down the street, he did notice a few gardens here and there – they were growing food in Foxglove, but nowhere near as much as Paradise.

McAllister led him into a terraced house, the front room of which seemed to have been converted into a sort of office. There he made Richard wait in the hall for twenty minutes while he read the letter (which, Richard though, shouldn't have taken more than five minutes). At last he opened the door and asked him to come in.

He dropped the letter on the desk. “Did you write this?”

“No. This was written by our trading manager, Jessica Monet.”

McAllister acknowledged this with a brief nod. “Well, you bear it anyway. You accuse us of breaking the agreement. We're not. We will hold to our trade agreement until it ends, for the next month. Then we
will
renegotiate. We can no longer import enough food at such inflated prices from Paradise, do you understand?”

“Of course,” said Richard. He was not here to argue for Paradise Compound's trade policy – he didn't much care, but if McAllister wanted to try and engage him on the issue, he wouldn't stop him.

“I will explain all this in my reply of course,” said McAllister. “But you should know that our administration is quickly becoming sick of your compound's antics.” He sighed. “Is there anything else you wanted to
represent
to us?”

Richard shook his head.

“Very well. You will remain in the same rooms as the drivers until it  is time to leave. You may not wander around the compound at your leisure. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”