The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum (23 page)

Jake smiled at Jeremiah from behind Angel. ‘Excuse mother’s mood.’

Angel turned to face Jake. ‘You think this a joke do you?’

Jake held up his hands but said nothing.

‘Look, I couldn’t stay behind babysitting. You need every pair of hands you can get.’ Jeremiah sat down. The long yomp had taken it out of him.

‘You’re no good to us dead though, are you?’ Angel was extremely pissed off that her friend had gone against the wishes of the group and followed them. ‘We only have your best interests at heart, you know that.’

‘Yes!’ Jeremiah snapped back. ‘I can’t just stand by and watch others fight. I need to be proactive. I’m a farmer for Christ’s sake; I need to be doing things.’

Jeremiah looked across at Jake.’ I have unfinished business. Whether it is the Infected or the Purebloods, I need to do this.’

‘Of course, you’re right.’ Jake held out a hand and pulled the old farmer to his feet. ‘United we stand.’

‘And united we fall.’

Jeremiah’s word suddenly hit home. This did feel like a final solution.

***

‘Have you seen it?’ Roger handed Angel a mug of luke warm tea from his flask.

‘The rocks?’

‘Yes.’ He said with concern written all over his face.

‘Yes, but it’s not my main concern.’ Her eyes turned to Jeremiah.

‘That’s some feat, mind.’ Roger whispered. ‘He actually caught you up. I mean, he’s not in the best of health.’

‘Exactly. This is no place for him.’

‘Well it’s too late now, he’s here to stay.’ Roger gazed back over to the Haytor rocks.

‘Is it bad over there?’ Angel tried to forget about her friend’s suicide trip.

‘Well, I wouldn’t send my worst enemy over there. The rock is crawling with infected bodies.’

‘I wish we had a plane.’ She sipped her drink.

‘With a huge bomb on it.’ Jake added, sitting down next to his friends.

‘A pity to blow up such a lovely land mark though.’ Roger looked again through his binoculars.

‘Fuck landmarks.’ Naomi squatted down near the others. ‘Let’s just wipe these fuckers out.’

Roger was taken aback by the young girl’s ruthless attitude. ‘At the sake of the planet?’

‘My mother is dead; I’m living like a nomad with a bunch of strangers.’ She pointed over to the Haytor rocks, which were swarming with their impending doom. ‘Because of those cunts.’

She looked Roger deep into his eyes. ‘Now let’s stop all this fucking chit chat and go and disembowel the twats.’

‘I second that.’ Harry James was now chomping at the bit.

‘Me too.’ Angel smiled at Harry. ‘Let’s show these mother fuckers who’s boss.’

Jake looked at Roger, then Jeremiah. ‘The ladies have spoken.’

Harry James pulled a face.’ Ladies?’

‘Shut up son, and pick your handbag up.’ Jeremiah said, as he started the walk towards Haytor.

Angel laughed. Perhaps her friend was back to his old self.

The six friends then drew their weapons and started their march to destiny.

The Haytor Rocks

Emma Davis wiped the dust from her combats. She stood out like a sore thumb as she was the only one not in her white overalls. The search party had been allowed to wear more conventional camouflage gear, to keep under the radar.

She looked around for the Doyen; she could see his truck, but there was no sign of him. Her eyes then met someone she knew very well. Doctor Robert.
What in God’s name was the little grunt doing here?

Suddenly, standing on the roof of one of the transit vans, the Doyen appeared.

His overalls were crisp white, and his cleanly shaved head glistened in the midday sun. Holding an automatic rifle he raised it above his head.

‘The time has come.’ He shouted down to his followers. ‘To wipe this filth from our land. What we start here today, we will carry on throughout the country.'

The gathered band of Pureblood’s started to cheer.

‘Let there be no prisoners.’ The Doyen continued. ‘Crush every skull you come against.’ His loud booming voice carried out across Dartmoor. ‘To the rocks; destroy everything in your path.’ He then jumped from the roof of the black transit van.

The small army were now wound up, and running towards the Haytor rocks screaming for blood.

Davis loaded her gun and started to walk. Already bringing up the rear, she would guide the attack from the behind the front line.

‘Davis!’ A voice called over to her that she instantly recognised. ‘Where the hell are you going?’ The Doyen was now standing in the back of the pick-up truck.

‘To finish off the infected scum, sir.’

‘Nonsense, you will ride with me.’ The truck pulled up alongside her. ‘Jump in.’

She didn’t need a second invitation. Using the footplate as a step, she climbed in. ‘Thank you sir.’

‘We can direct operations from here.’ The Doyen smiled. ‘No need for us to be in immediate danger, is there Davis?’

‘No sir.’ The truck pulled away.

The main body of the Purebloods attacked the rock head on. With superior firepower at first, it was a breeze.

Guns rang out in the clear summer skies, and the congealed blood of the Infected stained the granite. The white overalls soon took the place of the naked flesh on the rocks, as the Purebloods easily pushed back the Infected.

The Doyen and Emma Davis looked onwards from the safety of the pick-up truck, as their army made easy pickings across Haytor.

‘This shouldn’t take long.’ He smiled as he talked to Davis.

Davis wasn’t as confident as her boss. She had seen the Infected on the brink of defeat many times. It was as if when they were taken by surprise they panicked. But what she had noticed is that they turned it around quickly and effectively. The battle wouldn’t be over until the last infected body was broken in two.

***

‘Where did they come from?’ Harry James gawped, as the Purebloods swept across the rocks.

‘They were already here.’ Jake answered.

‘Really, you think that?’ Naomi gripped her gun and edged a little closer to the granite mountain.

‘I do.’ Angel placed a hand on Naomi’s shoulder. ‘The question is, have they been watching us?’

‘What shall we do?’ Harry asked.

‘Let’s just wait here and see what happens.’ Roger was in no rush to get involved in a fight. Especially if the Purebloods were doing the job for them.

‘We can’t just stand here.’ Angel winced; she could see the head of an infected teenager flying through the air. ‘It will be us next.’

‘Do you believe that?’ Roger shouted as the hollers of a bloody battle grew louder.

‘They know where we live. Yesterday, they spotted us.’ Angel thought this was the ideal opportunity to strike now, and kill two birds with one stone. ‘We can use the infected to our advantage.’

‘How?’ Roger still didn’t think this was the time to risk everything.

‘The Purebloods don’t know we are here. We can blend into the battle and pick them off.’

‘I’m up for that.’ Naomi was ready to stand by her friend.

‘Easy, remember York.’ Jake piped up. ‘We had the upper hand, home turf. This is their castle.’

‘We must be cautious.’ Roger could see the Pureblood’s superior man power was now pushing the
Infected
back into a deep ravine. ‘We have too much to lose.’

Jeremiah Rosser had moved a few yards from the others. He was watching the battle progress. Studying how the
Infected
were luring the Purebloods into a trap, he could see there were another thirty savages ready to pounce the moment the Purebloods entered the gorge.

This was good. Fighting the Infected they could handle. Whether it was picking them off a few at a time over a month, or a full assault, their little band of warriors were used to fighting them.

The Purebloods were something else though. An organised army, heavily armed. What they lacked in tactical nous they gained in sheer numbers.

He turned to the others. ‘I’m with Roger. We don’t need to get ourselves killed today.’ He smiled.

He then turned away to watch the battle unfold when he went ice cold. There, standing at the back, studying the battle from the other side of the Haytor rocks, was Emma Davis.

Jeremiah’s hands tightened. The bruises that still littered his body seemed to pulsate. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth started to squeak under the pressure.

‘Leila K.’ He muttered to himself. ‘I’m back.’

With that, he grabbed his gun and box of ammunition and jumped from the safety of the smaller boulders, and ran towards the Haytor rocks.

Jake saw him first. ‘Shit, shit. What’s he doing?’

Roger shouted after the old farmer, but to no avail.

‘Fuck this.’ Angel, with her gun in hand, ran after him.

Naomi looked at Harry James, then Roger. ‘This is it.’ With that she was chasing Angel.

‘For fuck’s sake.’ Roger roared. He looked over to his friend Jake, but it was too late. He and Harry James were also sprinting towards the Haytor rocks.

‘Christ on a bike.’ Roger loaded his gun. ‘Looks like today, we die. ‘Then he too joined the assault.

***

‘I’m going in.’ Davis was a fighter, not a voyeur.

‘Are you mad?’ The Doyen asked. ‘You don’t need to.’

‘Lead from the front, that’s my motto.’ Davis, armed to the hilt, marched to the edge of the rock. Taking careful aim, she let out two shots. Two Naked men fell from the stone. Their battle was done. ‘Are you coming?’ She looked back at the Doyen. ‘It will be fun.’

Reluctantly, he grabbed his automatic assault rifle. He would join the skirmish; behind Davis though.

Several Purebloods peered over the edge, and looked down into the ravine.

Instantly, large metal poles, sharpened at the end, thrust upwards into the unsuspecting faces. The piecing screams could be heard for miles around.

A dozen Infected foot soldiers then surrounded at least twenty or so Purebloods, and rushed them towards the gorge.

A volley of shots cracked through the sky, but it was too late. The naked torsos that fell had done their job. A small sacrifice for the overall cause.

All the Purebloods fell over the edge. Those that gripped to the ledge were speared by the metal pikes.

The Infected had turned the battle around. Slashing as they went, using bits of broken helicopter fashioned into daggers, they moved back across the rocks.

White overalls turned crimson, as bodies slid form the granite and fell to the moor.

Emma Davis could see the carnage that confronted her. ‘You.’ She shouted. ‘Come with me.’

A stocky man with a wispy ginger beard looked over at the female voice calling out to him.

‘Come with me, god damn it.’ Davis didn’t suffer fools gladly, and this was no time to be fucking about. ‘And bring him.’

The stocky man looked to where she was pointing. A large man in tight white overalls loomed behind him. A large scar ran across his head, it looked fresh. ‘Hey, you.’ He shouted in his harsh Liverpudlian accent.

‘What do you want?’ The large man punched a naked woman, bearing down on her so hard that she was lifted off her feet.

Taffy.’ The stocky man noticed the South Wales accent. ‘She wants us to follow her.’ He pointed at Davis, who was now leaping over dead bodies like a mountain goat to get closer to the front line.

‘Let’s go then.’ The large Welshman joined forces with the smaller man. Stooping low they followed the woman into battle.

***

‘Jeremiah!’ Angel screamed.

The old farmer was too busy battering everything in his path to listen.

A naked woman faced him. He swiped her away like a drowsy fly with the butt of his gun. A shaven headed man confronted him. Jeremiah gave him a right uppercut, and then kicked him off the granite rock like a deflated football. He was on a mission, and he only had one woman in his sights.

‘Stop!’ Jake yelled at Angel, and grabbed her shoulder.

‘Jeremiah!’ She shouted back to her boyfriend.

‘Let him go, he will look after himself.’

Before she could answer gun fire broke out, and Jake threw her to the ground. ‘It’s too dangerous. We must move over there.’ He pointed to where the Purebloods were attacking from.

She nodded in agreement.

They both moved fast; ducking and diving as they clawed their way across the moor.

Jake took pot shots at anything that came close, but nothing fell from the rocks.

‘We need to attack from behind.’ He stopped her and pointed to a few Purebloods who were bringing up the rear. ‘It’s our only chance.’

Angel kissed Jake on the cheek. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

Roger could see Harry James tussling with an infected savage. Before he could take aim Naomi struck the assailant with a rock.

‘Over here!’ He called over to them, but it was too noisy. The screams of the dying were now drowning out any chance of communication.

Roger ran towards the two of them. Just as he was about to reach them he got knocked off his feet. He didn’t see who had hit him.

Shaking his head he picked himself up. That’s when he saw the white overalls.

‘Who are you?’ The young man called out to him.

Roger couldn’t understand what he was saying. He shook his head once more.

The sharp pain in his left arm was sickening. He spun around and crashed to the grassy floor. His upper arm felt as though it was on fire and he couldn’t move his hand. He looked at his jacket; there was a small smoking hole.

‘Fuck!’ He cried out. He knew he had been shot. Looking up he could see the white overalls once again. He could also see the glint of the metal barrel.

Ignoring the pain, Roger moved fast. The whizz of the bullet screeched past his head, and that was followed by the gunfire.
He was a sitting duck.

Naomi could see Roger rolling across the grass. She could also see the white clad assassin taking pot shots at him.

She took aim, squeezed the trigger and the man’s head shattered; then he fell to the ground.

Running over to Roger, she could see he had been hit. ‘You have to stay here.’

‘No way.’ Roger wasn’t having any of it.

‘Don’t be an idiot!’ She barked. ‘You are bleeding badly; you need to put pressure on the wound and keep still.’