The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum (13 page)

Naomi helped Lou Pepper from the wagon, both of them running towards the advancing Roger. Lou was till screaming hysterically as bits of bloodied skull fell from her matted hair.

The naked woman could now see Angel standing at the seat of the wagon. Grunting and groaning she advanced, sniffing at the air and cackling like a banshee.

She then cried out as something bit her face. It caught her right cheek, making her head fall back. The stinging made her put her hand up to her skin. Touching her cheek she then looked at her fingers, and they were covered in blood.

‘Arghhhh!’ The naked woman now screamed. This time the sting caught her neck and made her fall backwards. It was as if an invisible snake was attacking her, snapping and cracking through the air.

Angel climbed over the seat and gave another sharp crack of the whip. Bingo! Third time lucky. This time the naked woman rolled off the wagon, screaming in pain.

Angel looked up, only to be faced with the huge savage bounding toward her. His arms, like tree trunks, were only feet away from her face. She quickly pulled back her horse whip, but she would never have time to strike.

Harry James rode through the dust cloud, and he could see a naked woman falling from the wagon. His cricket bat raised, he could now see Angel. Standing only a few feet from her was a man, about to attack her.

He dug in his heels, and as he sped past them he swung his willow bat and cracked the naked attacker on the back of the head. The sickening thud was followed by a hollow crack. It was as if he had taken the top off a large soft boiled egg.

Angel ducked as the head exploded in front of her. The large man fell to his knees. Angel finished the job by booting him off the side of the wagon. Jumping to the dusty floor, she grabbed the head of the fallen woman and wrapped the horse whip around her neck. Pulling hard, the woman hardly struggled before a waterfall of blood emptied from her mouth. She then went limp.

Harry James dismounted his horse and ran back over to the wooden cart. He could see Angel had finished off the woman, but he could see another two figures looming in the background. Behind them another was already running away. Soon the retreating figure was joined by an older man, but a rotund woman remained. Licking her bloodied lips she cupped her plump breasts and roared at Harry James.

‘Let’s do this.’ Angel called over to him.

Harry was actually surprised. For a split second she had spoken to him like a human being.

Both of them ran at the infected woman and then parted to cover each flank.

Angel was first to strike with a lick of the whip. Marking one of the woman’s buttocks she snarled back at her spraying blood. The congealed droplets fell to the floor and rolled into the dust.

Harry James ran over, surprising her by tossing a handful of dirt at her face.

Screaming in agony as the grit met her bloodshot eyes the woman raised her hands to her face. Harry James then turned and struck. He hit her with such ferocity that the back of her head caved in. Before he could hit her again, Angel had caught both of the woman’s feet with the horse whip. The infected heavyweight fell to the ground and another cloud of dust shot up from around her..

Harry came down hard again, this time square in the face. That was it, game over.

Roger repacked the discarded tins and boxes back onto the wagon. The mood after the skirmish had been exhilarating. With adrenaline pumping everyone was on a high, and even Angel and Harry James had been laughing and congratulating each other.

After every blood pumping peak there comes a trough. The small band of survivors were now working in complete silence. Naomi had been comforting Lou Pepper, who had hadn’t stopped shaking since the attack.

Angel had now distanced herself once more from the two boys. All she could think about was Jake. If that attack had gone only slightly differently, that would have been it. This now magnetised her senses, all she could think about was seeing her man. Perhaps Roger had been right; wasting time on a half-cocked plan to rescue Jeremiah only spelt disaster. That could wait.

She needed to see Jake, she needed a cuddle. She needed to feel his warmth.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Jeremiah had been searching for Sharon Gough for over an hour.

‘Get back to your room, Jeremiah.’ Sharon was furiously fiddling with a bunch of keys.

‘Are you trying to break into the infected unit?’ The old farmer was astonished at what he was witnessing.

Sharon ignored the question. Using a small pencil torch to light the dimly lit corridor she tried another key in the lock. Again the door stayed locked.

‘You are trying to get us killed.’ Jeremiah went to grab the keys.

Sharon elbowed her friend in the chest. ‘Leave me alone, go back to your room.’ She snarled back at him.

‘Control yourself!’ The old farmer snatched the keys from her. His larger hands, that had worked the land for over forty years, were far too strong for her smaller, more dainty ones.

‘Give them back to me.’ Sharon tried to lower his arm.

‘Look at yourself!’ He shouted. ‘What have you become?’

Sharon pushed him. ‘You are as bad as them. Murderers, the whole bloody lot of you.’

Jeremiah grabbed hold of her left arm. ‘You will get us both killed, woman.’

‘Good!’ She yelled. ‘Better to be dead with a clean conscience than alive and committing genocide.’

‘Genocide?’ He pushed the young woman against the cold wall. ‘Have you heard yourself?’ Jeremiah paused for a few seconds to try and calm the situation. He let go of her arm. ‘You ideals are misguided, Sharon. These aren’t human beings you can reason with. These are infected former humans. They no longer exist, not as we do.’

‘They are sick human beings. We could have been one of them. It’s only a twist of fate that we’re not.’ She looked at the veins in her arms. ‘The blood pumping around
our
bodies, it’s unaffected by the poison in the air. Does that mean though, that we have the right to slaughter those who have a different blood group? I think not.’ She pushed herself away from her former friend.’ I will not stand by and see sick human beings destroyed, because nobody can be bothered to find a cure.’

‘You are wrong.’ Jeremiah wasn’t having any of it. ‘Remember York? Remember Ruddington?’

Sharon said nothing.

‘They killed children, babies. They killed my son, my wife.’ He moved closer to Sharon. ‘You told me how you found your grandfather mutilated in his armchair. Are you saying that type of savagery, that type of bloodlust, can be cured?’

‘We will never know at this rate.’ Sharon wasn’t budging from her ideals. ‘That man, the self-proclaimed Doyen, will systematically hunt down every single one of them until every infected human is dead.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Jeremiah had already made up his mind. Sharon had taken leave of her senses and needed to be stopped.

‘You don’t understand. I can’t stand by and be a part of this.’

‘Then let’s leave. I don’t want to be a part of this fascist organisation either. Their whole ideal stinks, plus I don’t like wearing a uniform.’ He smiled at Sharon, trying to lighten the mood.

Sharon looked back at him. Her eyes had sunk back into their sockets, tired from overwork. She hadn’t smiled for a few days now, not since the meeting. She had nothing to smile about. She felt morose.

‘Come on. Let’s get back to our quarters and sleep.’ Jeremiah was trying his damn best to try and get through to his friend and colleague. ‘Tomorrow we can plan how we are going to leave. We can make a difference somewhere else.' The old farmer held out his hand.

Sharon could see a small fire extinguisher. It was hanging on a flimsy bracket, secured to the wall where Jeremiah was standing. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t quite believe what she was about to do.

Jeremiah fell backwards, his ears deafened by a high pitched ringing. Hitting the floor beneath him, his hand fell open and the large bunch of keys slid along the tiles. He slipped into unconsciousness.

Sharon Gough ran over to the keys and scooped them up. She dropped the fire extinguisher. It clattered to the floor, echoing up the corridor.

She moved over to Jeremiah, shocked that she had attacked him; she felt for a pulse. It was still there, and it was strong. Rolling him over into the recovery position she wiped the trickle of blood from his cheek.

‘I’m so sorry, please forgive me.’ She whispered into his ear.

With that, she marched over to the door and pushed the last remaining untried key into the lock. She slowly turned it and the latch clicked. Looking back at Jeremiah with tears in her eyes, she took a deep breath.

‘Goodbye my friend.’

Sharon Gough then slipped into the darkness, closing the door behind her.

***

‘Daddy, Daddy!’ Amber shook Jake out of his slumber.

‘What is it Sweetheart?’ He rubbed his eyes, moving onto his other side to get a few more minutes sleep.

‘Wake up daddy.’ She went to rip away the duvet, but Jake gripped it hard to stop her. ‘There are nude people on our lawn.’

Jake didn’t need to hear anything else. He was up over to the window within seconds. He flung opened the heavy curtains and peered through the pane of glass.

‘There, Daddy.’ Amber pointed to figures, huddled together in the centre of the large garden. ‘Look, they have no clothes on. Just like the others, the ones that weren’t very nice.’

Jake did a quick head count. There were five of them. Four males and one female. ‘Stay here, don’t move.’ He grabbed his daughter’s shoulders. ‘If anything happens then you go up into the attic and lock the door. Do you understand?’

‘Daddy, you’re scaring me.’ Amber didn’t want him to go.

‘Do you understand?’ Jake looked at his little girl straight in the eyes.

Amber nodded.

Jake tugged up a pair of jeans, slipped into his trainers and ran out of the bedroom.

‘Stay there and don’t move.’ He shouted back at Amber as he bounded down the stairs.

Jake nearly slipped as he jumped down the stone steps that led into the cellar. He had meant to go down there yesterday after setting the Crayfish pots, but had been distracted by Amber. She had wanted to plant seeds in the greenhouse and he had helped her.

The old metal locker was still there. Deep green in colour, the doors were slightly dented and rusty. Jake opened it up.

He sighed with relief. The four air rifles were still there. His Uncle certainly had just abandoned Old Mill without having a proper clear out.

Grabbing a small tin of pellets, he picked up the BSA Lightning rifle and ran back up the steps. Jake made his way to the patio doors which led to the back lawn. Stopping in the middle of the room, he pulled down the barrel and loaded a pellet. It was time to defend his castle.

Bursting through the double doors, Jake made his way left to the narrow steps. They led to the garden. Taking aim at the group he squeezed the trigger.

The head of the oldest male exploded like an overripe pepper. It took the small group by surprise.

Before they could attack, Jake had loaded another pellet and fired it at another male aggressor. He dropped to the floor, minus his head; blood sprayed over the lush, green grass.

Three naked bodies were now making their way towards him. He didn’t have time to load the rifle so he sprinted to his right, away from the advancing party.

Running in an arc towards the river gave him time to pull the barrel down and expose the loading hole. Grappling for a small pellet whilst sprinting was tricky, but he managed to get the rifle loaded and cocked.

The infected female was closing in on him. Jake slid down onto the damp grass and took aim. He waited till she was about ten meters away from him, and fired.

The pellet hit her square in the forehead. The pressure of the lead projectile made both sides of her head rupture. Congealed liquid and brain matter flew through the morning air, landing on the raised beds.

Jake didn’t have time to worry about the soil contamination and rolled over, yanking at the air rifle as he went.

The footsteps pounding across the lawn were a giveaway, he realised his reload time had vanished.

Looking up he could see the bare legs running towards him, and instinct took over. Raising his arms, Jake held the rifle up for protection.

The infected male caught his foot on the butt of the gun and he hit the deck. As he fell his knee caught Jake square in the jaw.

Fuzzy headed, Jake tried to pick himself up, but his legs had turned to jelly. The strike to the face had hurt him badly, and he was struggling to stay conscious.

The last of the infected could sniff death, he moved closer to the bodies lying on the grass. Opening his mouth, blood dripped from his blackened teeth; it bounced off the face of the man beneath him.

Was it raining?
Jake opened his eyes.

They were met with the eyes of a mad man. The eyes of an infected savage, ready to strike and about to kill.

Jake slammed his right palm into the oncoming face of the attacker. The naked torso fell sideways as his neck cracked.

Without hesitation Jake jumped to his feet, and kicked the infected male in the side of the head. He then searched for his rifle.

Grabbing it from the damp grass, he slammed the butt into the chest of the assailant. The ribs beneath the rifle cracked and shattered. Jake brought it down again, this time with more ferocity. The stock disappeared into the cavity off the man’s chest and he let out a high pitched squeal.

With a bit more composure Jake now loaded the rifle, and pointed it the other body that was lying next to his recently deceased ally.

One quick squeeze and the fifth and final infected human was exterminated.

‘Behind you, watch out behind you!’ A foreign female voice Jake didn’t recognise came from the steep bank, to the right of the cottage.

Without looking for the person warning him, Jake turned around.

Another infected male, athletically built and in his late twenties came sprinting at him.

Jake held out his rifle once again, as if it was fixed with a bayonet. As the young man got closer, Jake couldn’t help notice the huge penis that slapped the inner thighs from side to side, as the man dashed towards him.