Doomware (21 page)

When the first sharp sounds rang out he mistook them for thunderclaps, fantasising that the heavens were opening up in angry retribution for the evil events taking place beneath them. Zombies starting whooping and running in different directions. Varley stopped what he was doing and looked past him over the roof of the car, the glint of mad relish vanishing from its eyes. A red dot appeared on its chest and travelled up to its face, where it bloomed once, twice, three times. Slowly, like an ancient tree sawn off at its base, it toppled backwards and out of sight, the bloody knife still in its hand.

David understood none of this. He watched it all from a great distance. He knew only that
something
was happening, and could hardly dare to hope it was for good rather than ill. Using all of his energy, he lifted his head so he could look over the car’s roof. He scarcely comprehended what he saw.

Walking towards him along the street, calmly gunning down zombies, was a lone soldier.

David half believed the soldier wasn’t real, that what he was seeing was an elaborate hallucination invented by his mind to ease his passage into death.

When he reached the car the soldier stood a way off, his weapon levelled at him warily. He was dressed in camouflage gear from the cap on his head to the black boots on his feet, with various old-style weapons and items of kit strapped to him like a marching infantryman. He was tall, strong and healthy-looking. His eyes were completely hidden by a pair of wrap-around tactical glasses; assuming he was acybernetic, they were probably providing him with night vision, scanning capabilities and targeting aids.

David looked at this strange visitant in a kind of stupor of pain-fuelled ecstasy, revelling in simply being free of Varley’s torture. It took a while for the reality of the situation to penetrate through the fog of his mind, but as soon as it did he realised the solider was wondering whether he was a zombie. He undoubtedly looked like one, and for a terrible moment he thought he was going to survive Varley only to be shot dead by his rescuer.

“Not a zombie,” he croaked, feebly flailing his free arm. “I’m not a zombie. I’m alive, I’m alive.”

The soldier lowered his weapon and stepped closer. David went to touch him, to prove he was real, and the soldier grabbed his arm protectively.

“Careful,” the soldier said. “Those fingers are broken.”

“Are they?”

“Yes, they are.”

“Please help me,” David said, half destroyed but still ready to beg like he’d never begged before should it be necessary.

The soldier rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Relax. I’m going to.”

His voice was like music – a strong, beautiful adagio – the likes of which left David gasping, fighting back tears.

The soldier was all business. He examined the wire, testing it using some kind of instrument.

“Look at this stuff! That big bastard did this to you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna have to use a mini-thermite on it. I’ll get you outta here ASAP.”

As if to emphasise his point, he turned and opened fire, dropping an approaching zombie with a single burst. David had no idea what a mini-thermite was, nor did he much give a damn as long as it freed him.

“You’ll feel a lot of heat,” the soldier went on. “You might suffer some burns, but they should be minor. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I trust you. Jesus Christ, if you get me outta this I’ll fucking marry you.”

The soldier grinned. “How could I refuse such a charming proposal?”

David watched as the soldier carefully placed a flat disk on the car’s roof. Then he removed one of his gloves, pressed his thumb against the disk and held it there.

“Are you acy’?” David asked him.

“You have to ask?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You live near here?”

“Yes – just there.”

The disk gave out a beep and the soldier hurried to position himself at the roof rack. “Ready?”

David nodded, not knowing what he was readying himself for. After a few seconds the disk began to glow white and give off heat. The roof buckled and rippled in concentric circles around the disk, which sank slowly into the car’s passenger compartment. David felt as if he were being made privy to the workings of magic as he watched the rippling effect reach the roof rack and start melting it away. Immediately, the wire slackened and parts of it snapped, its ends red hot and fizzing. Unceremoniously, and with great strength, the soldier hauled him off the car, carried him a few paces and set him down. There he quickly removed the remnants of the wire before wrapping a surprisingly gentle arm around David to support him. David inhaled sharply, but it wasn’t surprise or pain that took his breath away in that moment (he felt no pain); it was the feeling of being held. After the barbaric nightmare he’d just been through even this simple semi-embrace between strangers felt so human and tender he could scarcely bear it.

“I’ve got you,” the soldier said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

David didn’t trust himself to speak; he was on the verge of declaring undying love for another man.

They stayed like that while David caught his breath. He was weaker than a kitten, and the soldier must have sensed how overwrought he was. When David looked at the car again it was virtually unrecognisable, having caved in on itself like a failed soufflé. He let his face bathe in the warmth from it.

“Can you stand?” the soldier asked.

“I think so.”

He got to his feet with the soldier’s help, but he couldn’t stand nor walk unsupported.

“Show me where you live,” the soldier said.

“This way,” David said, and they started off.

“You alone?” the soldier asked.

“I have a boy.”

“Which floor are you on?”

“Top floor.”

“It would be.”

* * *

By the time they got to the top floor David was breathless and racked with pain. It was all filtering through now, probably as his adrenaline dissipated. There seemingly wasn’t a cell in his body that didn’t hurt, and the only thing that kept him going was his desire to get to the flat.

Inside the soldier helped him onto his bed. “I’m gonna give you some injections,” he said. “Antibiotics, analgesics, a sedative. Where’s your kid?”

As if on cue, the boy burst into the room. His face fell when he saw how dreadful David looked.

“Dad!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. C’mere.”

He hugged the boy and kissed him, but was too in the grip of pain to really savour the moment.

“Were you sleeping like I said?” David asked him.

“Yes, my system woke me ‘cause there were sounds inside the flat.”

“That’s good.”

“What happened?”

“This hero here … I don’t even know your name.”

For a moment it seemed as if the soldier had been struck dumb by the sight of the boy. Then he said, “Tarot. Like the cards.”

“Tarot here saved me.”

“Oh, thank you!” the boy cried, and he flung himself into the soldier’s arms.

The soldier hugged him, looking a little taken aback, but his reaction was mostly hidden behind his glasses.

“Go back to bed now,” David said. “Daddy needs some time.”

The boy didn’t want to go, but eventually he trooped off after several exhausted kisses from David, and reassurances from both of them that everything would be okay.

As he administered an injection the soldier said, “Cute kid. He’s cybernetic?”

“Yes.”

“How’s that possible?”

“You tell me.”

“You’re one lucky guy.”

“He’s not my son, not biologically. I found him.”

“I’m sorry. He called you dad. I just assumed.”

“It was his idea.”

“You should start to feel drowsy now.”

His eyelids became heavy and the pain lessened. He desperately wanted unconsciousness, but something was niggling at him, something he was reminding himself he needed to say.

“Your weapons … don’t let the boy touch them,” he said, but that wasn’t it: still the niggling feeling denied him sleep.

“You’ve got permission to pass out, private,” the soldier said.

Then he thought of it: he hadn’t thanked the soldier for saving his life. Before he could tell him, his eyes closed and he was gone.

When he woke a shaft of brilliant sunlight was emanating from a chink in the curtains. He felt numb all over, a pleasant kind of numbness that spoke of trials over and recoveries under way. The boy was curled up beside him asleep, and he let his gaze rest on him for a long while, watching the undulation of his breathing, taking in the outline of his features as if he’d never seen them before. He felt enormous love for the child, even more than before, a relaxed, natural kind of love the likes of which he’d never experienced.

Eventually he tore his eyes from the boy and looked at the shaft of sunlight. It too he studied as if it was something new: the shimmer of suspended dust particles, the variations in the rays’ light intensity, each a mere ghost of its source. He was struck by how incredible a thing the sun was, how incredible the universe was – the incredibility of existence itself. It was too incredible that the universe still existed, that within it the sun was still shining, and that he was still here to pay witness to its light.

His right hand was in some kind of cast, and his left arm had been bandaged from wrist to elbow. It looked expertly done; the soldier obviously had medical training. Shawn’s father’s ring was back on the ring finger of his left hand, presumably placed there by the boy.

He was tentatively examining the bandages when the soldier walked in. Gone were his cap and sunglasses, revealing dark-blond hair cut short and soulful brown eyes. He was wearing a khaki singlet, exposing tanned, muscular arms and broad shoulders, one of which sported a tattoo of a man hanging upside-down from the bough of a tree. Encircling the opposite arm was a depiction of a snake devouring its own tail.

“Morning,” he said, smiling. “How do you feel?”

“Not too bad considering.”

When David spoke his eye socket ached, a reminder of the punch that had knocked him out. The boy stirred, but didn’t wake.

“I kept you dosed up,” said the soldier. “You should start on oral painkillers in a couple of hours, but first thing’s first: your prophyl’s.”

The soldier pointed towards his prophylactic pills and a glass of water waiting for him on the bedside cabinet before helping him into a sitting position. They took care not to disturb the boy.

“Thanks,” David said. “What time is it?”

“About midday.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t remember your name.”

“Tarot.”

“That’s it. Is that your first or second name?”

“First. Tarot Dugas’s the name.”

David swallowed one of his pills with a large gulp of water. “Unusual.”

“That’s my parents for you,” Tarot said as he took a seat.

David noticed that the soldier had a slow, unhurried way of talking, like a drawl that was soothing on the ear. This was mirrored in the way the man moved.

He downed the rest of the water, sating his thirst.

“Thank God I got to you when I did,” Tarot said. “I heard you for miles along the motorway. I almost didn’t stop: thought you were one of them. Lucky there was so much pain in your voice.”

David gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, lucky.”

“Sorry. Bad choice of words.”

“You were walking the motorway at night?”

“It’s the best time. There’s less lighting, and whatever’s happened to their eyes means their night vision isn’t up to much. You’ve got the advantage as long as you’ve got a decent pair of glasses.”

“I see,” David said, nodding absent-mindedly.

“I’ve been on the road for a while, started out in Northumberland. I’ve learned a few things about when’s best to travel.”

“You walked here from Northumberland?”

“Yes, well, part of it I drove, until I ran out of petrol. I travel light, sleep wherever I can.”

“Where are you heading?”

“For the coast. Thought I’d see if I could make it across to France … look for other survivors on the way.”

“Have you found any?”

“You’re the first. And I have to say, I can’t believe one of you’s not acy’.”

David looked at the sleeping child. “He’s a miracle boy all right.”

“The poor kid was worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine,” David said dismissively.

“Your fingers aren’t as bad as I thought; they should heal in time. It’s those bites I’m worried about.”

David peeled back one side of his shirt, exposing the dressings underneath. “These are all bites?”

“Most of ‘em.”

David stared at the patchwork of dressings. He couldn’t recall being bitten that many times. Had he passed out again after all? Or had he blocked it out?

“You should stay on antibiotics for at least a week,” Tarot said. “There’s no telling what kind of bugs are in their saliva. I cleaned you up as best I could but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

David took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know how to thank you…”

“You don’t have to,” Tarot said, and he nodded towards the boy. “He’s thanked me enough for both of you.”

David smiled. “He’s a great kid.”

“Yes he is. He reminds me of my son, back when he was that age. The resemblance is quite striking actually. When I first saw Shawn I…” Tarot stared off into the distance for a moment, before recovering himself. “I guess it took me back is all.”

David almost couldn’t bring himself to ask. “Was he…?”

“He was cyber’ … along with his mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tarot smiled, but his eyes didn’t smile along with him; there was only sadness there. “He was barely into his hundreds.”

“How old are you?”

“I lose track of the lesser years but I’m in my ninth century.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I fought in the Gene Wars.”

“No!”

“And the Five Islands’ War.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“People like you and me have been around that long, y’know?”

“No, not your age; I’m shocked they let an acy’ fight. How the hell did that happen?”