Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel

Book
Summary

First people got sick.  Then they got really sick
.

Nick Adams is just a normal guy.  He loves his family,
appreciates his home, and covets his car.  But he absolutely hates his
job.  Which is what makes is so difficult when not a single customer comes
by his store that day.  It seems as though there’s a bug going around,
something that has come out of nowhere and is keeping people at home. 
Still, it’s probably nothing to worry about.  People get sick all the
time.

And besides, things are finally starting to look up.  Nick’s
first customer of the day has just stumbled through the door…

His day is about to get worse.

It won’t be long before Nick’s entire life is turned upside down, sending
him on a frantic journey through a ravaged world that will ultimately lead him
500 feet upwards to a hilltop amusement park.  Is it the last safe place
on Earth, or are the monsters at the top of the hill even worse than the ones
below?

Welcome to Ripley Heights.  Where the fun never starts.

RAVAGE

(Special Edition)

BY

Iain Rob Wright

Dedicated
to my Father-in-Law, Roger.  I miss you.

With
thanks to:

Barton Glenn

Vix Kirkpatrick

Vince Early

Barbara Rochester

Barb Higgins

Paul Blanchfield

Caroline Doyle

Nicola Rees

Erimozqueda

Lee Nelson

Alison Coombes

Julie Nice

Andy Smith

Hotstuffsteph

Stephen Bryant

Faith Kauwe

(Sorry if I forgot anyone.  IRW)

“
Since the day of my birth, my
death began its walk.  It is walking towards me, without hurrying
.”

- Jean Cocteau

“We are living
on the brink of the apocalypse, but the world is asleep.”

- Joel C.
Rosenberg

“He’s got an arm off!”

- Simon Pegg, Shaun of the Dead,
2004

NEWS REPORT: SEPTEMBER 29
^th
2012

Terrorist attack suspected of killing up to 1500 people as
commercial cruise liner, SPIRIT OF KIRKPATRICK, sinks due to massive explosion.

Joint relief efforts are underway in the
Mediterranean Sea, where the tragedy occurred, by several nations including
France, Italy, UK, and Egypt, but so far no survivors have been found.  It
is thought that the explosion, which caused the entire 33,000 tonne vessel to
sink below the waves within minutes, occurred inside the engine compartment.

No group has yet come forward to claim
responsibility for the attack, but owners of the doomed cruise liner, Black
Remedy Corporation, have claimed that, with the stringent safety measures
present on all of their public passenger ships, there is no possible cause for
the disaster other than an act of terrorism.

The company has previously been targeted
by eco-terrorists and religious groups because of its reputation for operating
unethically in the 3
^rd
world and for allegations of corruption and
sabotage.  While the vast, multi-national corporation has made great
efforts in the last decade to conduct its affairs to a better moral standard,
it is thought that there may still be groups and individuals who wish to target
it.

NATO Secretary, General Able Rasmussen,
condemned the suspected suicide attack as ‘despicable’.

Part
One: LIFE

“The whole town is dead,” said Paul,
re-entering the phone shop with a bored shuffling of his feet.

Nick gazed out at the shopping centre’s vacant seating areas
and deserted walkways, and saw that his co-worker’s statement was
correct.  The Boots megastore directly opposite – usually teeming with
customers – was devoid of a single shopper.  Its typically vibrant team of
staff were pottering around aimlessly, re-jigging shelf displays and chatting
to one another for lack of anything else to do. 

Likewise, the small mobile phone shop that Nick managed was
also unbearably quiet.  It’d been more than two hours since the last
customer stepped through the open metal shutter that fronted the store. 
Every minute had begun to feel like hours.

“I wonder why it’s so quiet,” Nick mused out loud, directing
the question to his colleague.  “Is England playing football today or
something?”

Paul shrugged, shook his bald head.  “Hey, I’m
Sikh.  I only know when there’s cricket on.”

Nick chuckled, but still felt worried.  With no
customers, how on earth were they going to get any sales.  He needed to
earn his bonus this month, to cover the deposit he had already paid, and yet
didn’t really have, on a new car.

“All the other shops were just as quiet as us when you
checked?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I spoke to Chris at Game Traders and he said
they haven’t had a customer since eleven.  They’ve been dossing around,
playing Fifa all day.”

Nick’s watch told him it was just after three.  The
daily sales target was a nigh-on-impossible feat to achieve now.  Paul had
set up a two-year iPhone contract for an overweight teenager first thing that
morning, but hadn’t sold a thing since.  Nick himself hadn’t taken much
more than a few quid through the tills.  Nothing but credit top-ups and
bill payments.

Actually, I sold that SpongeBob phone sock, too. 
Whoop-de-do.

Nick rubbed at the dull, black stubble on his chin and
stifled a yawn. 
Area manager’s going to have my balls in a vice if we
don’t get more sales on the board. 

What can I do, though?  Can’t force people to come
to town and buy overpriced gadgets that they don’t really need.  Hell,
even I can’t tell the difference between the new iPhone and the last one.

This is bad, though.  We need to get one more sale
at least.

Slow days weren’t uncommon in Nick’s line of business,
especially with a recession in full swing, but this was one of the worst
footfalls he could remember.  There was barely any point to being open, in
fact.  With the cost of electricity and wages, the store would probably be
losing money just by them being there.

The store’s head salesman, Paul, strolled over to the laptop
area and started browsing the Internet.  It was against company regulations
to use the computers for personal use but Nick wasn’t about to be a jobsworth
just for the sake of it.  He was an easy-going manager at the best of
times, and today there really was nothing else for his staff to do.

He let out a sigh and looked over at Paul.  “Check and
see if something’s going on today that we don’t know about.  Find me an
excuse to give the area manager.  An outbreak of plague would be ideal.”

“No problem, governor.”  Paul typed away with his
gold-ringed fingers.

Just then, Chelsea re-joined them, having finished her lunch
in the back.  She looked at the empty shop floor and then over at Nick,
before pulling a face.

“I know, I know” he said to her.  “If it stays like
this much longer, I’ll probably send you home.  No point the three of us
being here.”

No point even one of us being here at this rate.

If it was up to him they all would have left already; he
would’ve closed up shop and called it a day.  But Head Office didn’t allow
him to make such judgement calls.  They paid him to be there ten hours a
day and that’s exactly how long they expected him to stay, whether there was
any need for it or not.  There was no requirement for Paul and Chelsea to
suffer, though.

I think they might slip into a coma if things get any
more boring. 

Oh, to hell with it.  I can manage things here on my
own for a couple of hours.

Nick was just about to tell both Paul and Chelsea to go home
when, finally, a customer entered the store.

“
Hallelujah
,” Nick said under his breath, before
prodding a member of his staff gently on the arm.  “Go get him,
Chels.  We need to get a contract out of this guy or I’m screwed on the
conference call tonight.”

“No sweat,” said Chelsea, flicking her long blonde hair
behind her back.  “Watch a sales-ninja at work.”

She swaggered over to the customer, her trademark fake smile
switched on full beam.  The customer didn’t seem to notice her approach,
though.  He slumped up against the central display where the live
demo-phones were lined up on painted-steel pedestals.  The man hunched over
a Nokia smartphone so closely that he was probably smelling the lithium in the
battery.

Great
, Nick thought to himself. 
Our first
customer in hours is a pisshead.

Nick decided to shadow Chelsea, just in case she got into
problems.  The girl had a short fuse with difficult customers, and a drunk
would certainly qualify as a potential trigger for her teenaged temper.

“Are you okay there, sir?” Chelsea asked the man.

He remained hunched over, almost like he didn’t even hear
her.

“I said, are you okay there, mate?”  Chelsea was
already beginning to look irritable, and her tone had changed.  She turned
to Nick and shook her head.

 Nick eased her aside with his hand and stepped up
beside the customer.  It was best for a manager to deal with anyone who
was going to be a problem. 

Sales people should be free to sell.  Managers
should be free to deal with all the headaches.

“Sir, are you okay?” he asked politely.  “I’m afraid
you can’t sleep it off here.” 

Still no response from the hunched-over man. 

Nick reached out a hand.  He was quickly getting
impatient.  “Sir, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go someplace else.”

The man shot upright like an uncoiling spring.  He
turned to Nick with swollen, bloodshot eyes.  A thin strand of saliva hung
pendulously from his lower lip, ready to make a break for the floor at any
moment.  The man’s entire expression was vacant and faraway.

Yikes!

Nick took a step backwards, his stomach flipping over like a
wet pancake.  “What the heck is wrong with you, man?”

The customer swayed on his feet and groaned unintelligibly.
 If he had been drinking, then he must have drunk a shitload.

“I…I’m not feeling well,” said the man.  His voice was
thick, as though he had spoken with a swollen tongue.

“No shit,” said Paul from over by the laptops.  “You
look rough, mate.”

The groaning man wobbled for a moment, then managed to speak
again.  “I…I don’t think I can make it home.  W-will you call my wife
for me, please?”

Nick found himself staring for a moment, speechless. 
The stink coming off the other man was foul, even worse than the sickly sight
of him.

Maybe he’s diabetic or something.  Don’t they have a
funny smell right before a coma?
 

Nick managed to find his voice.  “Yes, yes, of course,”
he said.  “Chelsea, will you grab my mobile, please?”

Chelsea hurried over to the sales desk and procured Nick’s
phone for him.  She handed it over gingerly, almost as if he was
contagious of something merely for talking with the smelly man in the store.

“What’s the number for your wife?” Nick asked.

The man’s eyes rolled in his skull and it seemed like he
might pass out for a moment.  Eventually, he managed to give a reply.
 “It’s…it’s – one moment.  It’s 07…0798…07985…”

It took about a minute in total before the man gave out his
full phone number.  When Nick dialled it a woman picked up on the other
end and asked who was calling.

“Oh, hi.  This is Nick Adams.  I’m calling from
Touch Pad, one of the phone shops in town.  I have your husband here with
me.  I’m…I’m afraid he’s not feeling very well.  He needs someone to
come and collect him.  Would you be able to make it into town?”

Nick clutched the phone tightly to his ear and listened
while the woman informed him that she could be at the store in twenty
minutes.  The thought of having to babysit the sick man during that time
wasn’t something he was relishing, but what worried him even more was that the
man’s wife also sounded pretty sick.  The voice on the other end of the
phone was disorientated and thick with mucus.

“Okay,” Nick uttered into his mobile as the conversation
neared its end.  He swallowed a spongy lump halfway down his throat. 
“S-see you soon.”  He slid the phone into his pocket and smiled at his
sickly guest, who was standing unsteadily beside him.  “Your wife is on
her way.  She won’t be long.  Perhaps you should take a seat while
you wait.”

“I’ll make the poor sod a cuppa,” said Paul, already
wandering off towards the back.  “Looks like he could use one.”

Nick led the sick man over to the carpeted sales area where
there were several places to sit.  The reason that part of the floor was
carpeted was to make people feel at home, relaxed and more inclined to
buy.  Nick thought the theory was rubbish, but what did he know?

As the sick man took a seat on one of the area’s plush, cubed
sofas, Nick was forced to arc his head away as malignant body odour threatened
to make his eyes water.  The stench seemed to drift off the other man in
hot, humid waves.  Nick made sure to sit on the opposite side of the
desk.  But even that was too close.

“Should I do anything?” Chelsea asked him.  She looked
sick to her stomach and was fidgeting with her hair.

Nick waved a hand at her.  “Just go, Chelsea. 
Paul and I will be okay to hold down the fort.”

The young girl’s shoulders loosened with relief.  “You
sure, boss?”

“Yeah, just get out of here.  I’ll see you when you’re
next in.”

She skipped off to the staffroom to get her things while
Paul returned with three mugs of piping hot tea.  He placed them down on
the desk and slid the cleanest one towards their poorly guest.  “Here ya
go, fella.  Drink up.”

“Thank you,” the man replied weakly.  He seemed to have
gotten a little better since sitting down, but was still looked decidedly
unwell.  “I’m sorry to put you all out like this,” he said.  “I just felt
as though I was going to pass out.  I just…I just headed into the nearest
shop.”

“So you’re not interested in getting yourself a shiny new
phone then?” Paul joked.

The man didn’t laugh.  His head kept falling towards
the desk as if he was having trouble holding it up.

“So what’s wrong with you?” Nick asked.

The man shook his head and spattered the vinyl surface of
the desk with bubbling drops of spittle.  “I-I don’t know.  I’ve been
feeling under the weather since yesterday morning.  It got really bad this
afternoon, though.  I think I must have the flu or something.”

Nick nodded.  “Yeah, probably.  Might be worth
getting yourself down to see the quack.  People underestimate the flu and
how bad it can make you feel.”

The man nodded.  “Soon as my wife picks me up, I’ll be
heading straight to my local doctor, don’t you worry.”

“Your wife sounded pretty poorly, too,” Nick
mentioned. 

“She has whatever
I
have, but she only started
feeling ill this morning.  Must have caught it from me.”

Nick sipped his tea and tried to ignore the smell of wet
fart drifting continuously over from the other side of the table.  “Well,
I hope you get well soon, buddy, because you look like death warmed up.”

The man’s head slumped to the desk with a
thud!

Paul and Nick exchanged worried glances.

***

Fifteen minutes later when his wife
arrived, the man was still face down on the sales desk. 

His wife tottered into the shop
looking almost as bad as he did.  Her eyes were bulging and bloodshot,
just like her husbands, but they seemed a little more lucid and less
dazed.  Her mousy brown hair, still kept neat in a tight ponytail, gave
her the look of a woman that just soldiered on, no matter the weather.

“Hi,” Nick said to her, keeping his distance.

“I’m here to take George home,” she said, before sneezing
three times in quick succession.  “Is he…is he here?”  

“Yes,” Nick pointed to him, “but I think he’s napping.”

The woman staggered towards the sales area at the back of
the store.  Her steps were uncoordinated and clumsy.  Her husband –
George
– managed to lift his head and look at her as she came over to him.  He
seemed unable to do anything more than that, though, and remained seated.

Nick shook his head. 
Wow.  I really hope I
don’t catch what they have.

Paul headed over and placed one of his thick hands on
George’s shoulder.  “The missus will get you to the doctor now,
fella.  You’ll be right as rain.”

Like a thrashing animal, George snapped his teeth at Paul’s
hand, clamping down his jaws like a salivating pit bull.  Paul yelled out,
yanking back his hand back and wrenching it free.  He clutched it to his
chest and cursed in his native Punjab.  “
Haram Jada
!”

George looked completely startled, as if he had no idea what
he had just done.  “I…I’m so sorry.  I…”

“
George!
” his wife cried.  “What the bloody hell
are you playing at?”

He looked tiny and afraid; a scolded man.  “I’m so
sorry,” he gushed at Paul.  “I…I don’t know what came over me.”

Paul shook his injured hand and seemed totally bewildered by
what had just happened.  “N-no problem, fella,” he said.  “I’ll just
put it down to the fever.”