Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught (14 page)

“What was that?” the male honeymooner said. He was right at the rim of the candlelight, staring out into the darkness.

Budd switched off the radio set and stood up. In the quiet that followed, the group listened to the nothingness that filled the room.

“I can’t hear anything, buddy.”

“Neither can I,” the doctor said.

“I definitely heard something,” the male honeymooner reiterated. To strengthen his words he turned and looked back at the others. “I know I heard something. Those things are in here.”

Budd looked at the young man and found that his eyes shimmered in the soft light. His clothes were stained with blood, and dried globs of it marked his face and hands, one of which trembled at his side.

The guy was one sandwich short of a picnic. Maybe two…

“Come on, James,” the doctor’s wife said. “Come and stand with us. We’ll be safe.”

“We’ll never be safe,” James said in a raised, agitated voice. As if fate wished to prove him right, the sound of a jar smashing on the floor burst out from the darkness.

Budd switched the radio on and depressed the transmitter button. “Where’re you, boss?”

There was the usual pause, but the seconds dragged.

“Sam’s just gone up again.”

“Be quick. We’ve got company.”

Which, I’m sure you’ll agree, was unlikely to be a good thing…

Budd watched as Juliette picked up the flashlight and switched it back on. She shined the beam into the darkness, sweeping it from side to side, but the tall racks and long shelves splintered the light and cast shadows across the storeroom.

None of the group spotted anything approaching.

Nevertheless, they all heard another loud crash. The ensuing rumble of metal rolling on the linoleum floor lasted many seconds and gave Juliette ample time to direct the light to the correct location.

Still, Budd found it hard to say if he could see anything.

At the back of the group, the doctor spoke up. “Get back into the elevator, Caroline.”

Without speaking, his wife did as she’d been told.

Budd looked at Juliette, gave her a nervous smile, and then took the flashlight from her hand and gave it to James, the honeymooner. “You too, sweetheart.”

“I want to stay with you.”

“Back you go.”

Juliette walked backwards into the elevator, her eyes still roaming.

Budd remained where he was, the axe held taut in his hands and his attention turning to wherever James chose to shine the light beam. He heard the doctor and the priest shuffle up to his rear.

He swallowed hard.

I didn’t like being the group leader.

I didn’t want to be the one throwing the welcome party for whatever wandered out of the dark…

“Over there,” James said, pointing.

Looking to where the young man had indicated, Budd saw the outline of two figures heading towards them. They were close together, perhaps with one arm around each other, but Budd was sure that their gait was different to the things he’d seen in the hotel’s reception. Their small steps were wary and hesitant, but not stiff and uneven.

Budd indicated for James to lower the torch, and then swung his axe up to rest on his shoulder. “The two of you, over there,” he said, waving with one arm. “Say somethin’ if you, you know, didn’t die at some point today.”

There was no immediate answer, but Budd thought he heard hushed voices above the static of the two-way radio. Eventually a male voice called back, “How do we know that you’re not one of those psychos,
mon
?”

The voice was distinctly Caribbean, but from precisely which island Budd had no idea. “Brother, how many have you seen using axes and flashlights?”

Without another word being spoken, the two figures came out of the shadows and stepped through the candle line.

One was a tall, broad, black male, dressed in a black suit and shirt with a white tie. He had curly black hair that was cropped short to his head. Clasped to his side was a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, and of what Budd guessed was Chinese descent. She was wearing knee-high black leather boots, a short cream skirt and a black blouse. The lacy top, however, had been ripped open and was hanging on either side of her chest. There was a large bandage across her midriff. Above the dressing, but visible below the line of her black bra, were deep cuts and scratches. She looked pale and weak.

The doctor stepped towards the injured woman, removing his jacket and rolling it into a makeshift pillow. “Please, lay her down,” he said.

The black-suited newcomer did what he was told, but he kept his head up and his eyes vigilant as he lowered her to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Budd said. “He’s a doctor. What happened to you?”

“We were attacked; two guys jumped us. They were like animals. They pinned De down and were fucking biting and scratching her. I think I killed them. Man, what the fuck’s going on?”

“The name’s Budd, brother, and I haven’t a clue.”

“Call me Carl. Now, De’ll be fine, right?”

Budd peered in closer to the young Chinese woman; James had illuminated her wounds with his torch, giving the doctor, who had peeled back the bandages, a much better view of her injuries. The medical man pulled his spectacles down his nose and scratched at his eyeball. “They’re only superficial, nothing that can cause long-term damage, although, with bites, a course of antibiotics would be advisable. Nevertheless, you need to rest, young lady.”

De nodded and sat up, letting a smile cross her lips. The doctor’s wife crouched beside her and Juliette handed her a bottle of water from the cart.

While the others looked on over the doctor as he renewed his examination of the wounds, Budd returned to the elevator car. In his hand, the two-way radio crackled with something more than static. It happened a second time. He thumbed the transmitter button. “Boss, no panic over here, just a couple more survivors. Everything okay with you?”

There was no reply, simply the fuzz of white noise.

“Speak to me, chief.”

The static cut off in an instant: the other radio was transmitting, but no words came over the airwaves.

Instead, there were screams, cries of terror, and finally Andy’s voice, shouting something unintelligible.

The transmission ended and the white noise returned.

Budd looked up from the radio set, unaware that he had been staring at it, willing a proper message to come. The others were looking at him, fear etched on their faces.

I don’t mind telling you—there was fear on mine, too…

James shined the torch towards the distant doorway; there was no sign of Andy’s group. “Right,” the young man said, “we have to help.”

Budd cursed the fact that he was still holding the axe; the others were again looking at him to lead the way. He clipped the two-way radio onto his belt. “We’ll go and check this out, but I want the rest of you in the elevator in case things don’t go well.”

There were mumbles of acknowledgement from around the group, except for the doctor, who was torn between his professional duty to his current patient and his desire to offer help to what seemed a more dangerous exercise. As if sensing the dilemma within the doctor, Carl straightened up to his full height, several inches above Budd, and clenched his fists. “I’d like to help,” he said.

“Sure thing, brother,” Budd replied. He rummaged through one of the bags on the cart and then handed Carl a flashlight. “Take this.”

“Thanks.”

As Budd turned to leave, flanked by James and Carl, he locked eyes with Juliette and offered her a smile. She returned it and then hurried on, keen to help the doctor move his patient into the lift. Budd let his eyes linger on her as long as he could, until his movement put her out of view. He took the radio from his belt and pressed the button. “Boss, come in, do you hear us?”

Static was still the only reply. Budd reattached the radio and then made ready his grip on the axe’s shaft.

“Is this guy on his own?” Carl asked as they neared the door to the staircase.

“Nah, I think there’ll be six of them.”

“How far away are they?”

“Pretty close. At least, they should be.”

They arrived at the staircase doorway. Budd reached for the handle. Behind him, Carl used his light to check that nothing had followed them. In the distance, sliced by the shelves and racks that stood in between, the elevator made a distant glow. Budd pulled open the door, revealing the light from the staircase. He stepped back and raised his axe.

The landing was empty.

Budd hurried inside, heading for the set of steps that would take them up to the next half-landing. James kept alongside him and Carl followed a short way behind. The two men switched off their flashlights.

Shouts came from above.

Budd stopped and Carl bumped into him. The contact drove Budd on. He took the steps one at a time and reached the half-landing much later than he could have done. The cries from above were louder now, getting nearer. Around the corner, on the landing for the floor above, he heard the door open and a rush of feet come in.

Chris came bounding down the stairs.

“What’s happening?” James asked.

Chris paused for long enough to take the flashlight from the young man’s grip. “Those things are all over the fucking place. We need to get to the restaurant.”

“What ’bout the others?” Budd asked, but his breath was wasted because Chris was already running headlong down the staircase again, escaping as quickly as he could.

I didn’t like the guy, but I—sure as Hell is full of politicians—liked his idea…

“We have to help them,” James said, and launched himself up the second flight of stairs and across the landing. He pushed open the door and plunged into the darkness.

Budd looked at Carl, who nodded upwards and gave a slight smile. “Slow and steady, yeah?”

“You got that right, brother.”

More shouts came from the corridor.

“Let’s just wait here a bit, see what happens,” Budd said, stopping his advance. He couldn’t tell from Carl’s expression whether the bigger man was happy to come to a halt, or disgusted by his lack of bravery.

Not that it mattered to me…

James stumbled back through the doorway, dragging Sam behind him. Blood was matted into the Californian’s long hair, and streamed down the side of his face. Carl ran up the last few steps and hoisted Sam’s limp body over his shoulder.

“Take him down,” James said.

Carl turned and obliged, jogging down the staircase.

Andy was next through the door, his hammer gripped two-handed. There was gore splattered over his face and torso, dripping from his white shirt. “Come on, Frank,” he yelled as he retreated to the stairs.

Frank jumped backwards through the doorway, thrusting the axe-head out into the dark corridor. He tried to speed the closing of the sprung-door, but several hands appeared in the space and made it impossible. He withdrew to the stairs.

Budd led the four men in their downward escape. He rounded the first half-landing and then descended the next flight of stairs in three large strides. James was right behind him, keeping pace. Andy and Frank, who were making a fighting retreat, had still not reached the half-landing.

Rather than wait for them—and probably just get in the way—I decided it was better to head straight back to the elevator and make sure everyone was ready to go by the time Andy and Frank did arrive.

Well, that’s what I’d tell anyone who asked…

Budd pulled open the door to the storeroom and ventured into the darkness beyond. He used the glow from the open elevator door as the target for his run. He navigated the racks and shelves with care born of not wanting to risk an injury and be forced to slow down permanently.

When Budd caught up with Carl, who was encumbered by Sam’s weight on his back, he settled to his pace, comfortable to be in the big man’s light. Other than for James, who was right behind them, the staircase door had not yet reopened.

Plenty of time remained to get ready.

They reached the semicircle of candles and stumbled inside. There was tumult in and around the freight elevator, with raised voices and small arguments, but Budd could hear none of them above the sound of his thumping heart.

Juliette came to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I am so glad you are back,
Monsieur
Ashby. That man,” she said, pointing towards Chris, who had slunk into the back of the elevator car, “said everyone was dead and that we must leave. The doctor and I refused.”