Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (12 page)

“That should keep the wind out,” said Jan.

“Hopefully,” Nick said.  “Isn’t the wind that
worries me, though.”

Jan patted him on the back with a meaty slap. 
“Long as we lay low, I can’t see any danger.”

“Long as nobody makes the mistake of sneezing or
coughing, else you and Dave will probably smash their skull in.”

Jan glared at Nick.  He suddenly felt threatened by
the larger man.

“Listen, brother,” said Jan.  “I may be a lot of
things, but I’m not a killer.  That lady was already dead.  She’s
probably wandering around those woods right now, out of her mind.  There
was nothing any of us could do for her.  Dave was trying to do her a
favour.”

“Funny, because it seemed to me like she was begging for
her life.”

Jan shoved Nick aside.  “You seem to be forgetting that
in the end I came around to your way of thinking.  Maybe next time I’ll
just go with my gut, whether
you
like it or not.” 

Jan walked away and Nick sighed.  It was true Jan
had not been the one who had tried to kill Kathryn, but he
was
the one
who had suggested it.  The man was a criminal when all was said and done.

None of us should forget that.  We don’t know
how dangerous these prisoners are.  They were locked up like animals
before any of this started.   

One thing was for sure, Nick’s main concern was not
about the wind getting in.

***

It turned out that Carl and Pauline
were able to rustle up quite the feast.  A large freezer in the kitchen
contained burger patties, hot dogs, mini-pizzas, and bags and bags of frying
chips.  With a little bit of fiddling they had managed to switch on the
fat fryers and griddles, and within one hour everyone was sitting in the
restaurant eating more than they needed. 

Nick felt bloated and overly-f already, but found that
the act of eating helped take away some of his stresses; allowed him to blank
his mind of its troubles while he focused on a basic human need.

Guess there’s a reason they call it comfort eating. 

At his table were Eve, Margaret, and Pauline. 
Carl, Cassie, and Renee sat at another table, while Jan, Dash, and Dave sat at
a third.  The women at Nick’s table all looked very satisfied as they
finished off their French fries.  They also had a variety of soft drinks
in front of them, which they slurped readily, except for Margaret who was
drinking piping hot tea.

“Nothing seems as bad after a good brew,” said
Margaret.  “It can get you through anything.”

Eve wiped her mouth with a napkin.  “I bet you’ve
seen some stuff in your lifetime, Margaret.”

“I have at that.  Not anything like this, though. 
This is hell on earth.  A right bloody shambles.”

“You think it’s the same everywhere?” Pauline asked,
rubbing at her eyes and smudging her make-up.

“I do,” said Margaret.  “There seems to be
something very deliberate about all this.  How could things degenerate so
completely
without
being planned?  Should we believe that there
weren’t any doctors who picked this up early?  That the Government had no
warning at all?  If that’s the case then this is either the work of very
powerful enemies or a very angry God.  And neither of those would release
something this destructive solely on a little island like Britain.”

“So you think it’s happening in other countries, too?”
Nick asked.  He held a cardboard beer mat in his hands and was
absentmindedly peeling away the label.

Margaret nodded.  “I’d say this is happening at
least in the Western world.  If it was terrorists, for example, they would
have far more to gain by releasing this in America or mainland Europe.  It
would be a waste to focus it only on us.  The spread of the disease would
halt at our natural barriers – the coastline.

“Maybe someone just wants to set an example.  Hold
the world to ransom by showing what they can do.  Maybe we’re being used
to send a message.”

The old lady shrugged.  “Only time will tell.”

Nick nodded his head slowly as he thought about it.

I wonder how much time any of us have left.

While Nick’s mind was wandering, Dave decided to stand
up and address the group.  He cleared his throat and began.  “Perhaps
now would be a good opportunity for us to get some rest; see what tomorrow
brings.”  Nobody argued, so he continued.  “We can turn off the
lights and bed down wherever we can.  Margaret, you can have the sofa in
the staffroom.”

“Thank you.”

“Then we can hold a meeting in the morning to figure out
what our next move will be, although I would suggest staying here until help
finds us.  Agreed?”

With no one taking exception, the group began shuffling
around as they each tried to find somewhere soft to lie down amongst the
various hard surfaces.  Margaret headed off for the staffroom to claim her
sofa while Dave claimed the tall-backed leather chair in the manager’s
office.  Nick decided to roll up his coat as a pillow and just bed down on
the restaurant floor.  There would be nowhere else that was comfortable,
so why waste time looking?  Eve and Pauline did the same, lying down a few
feet from him.  The three prisoners huddled up in the corner of the
restaurant, making a bed from some aprons they’d found hanging up on the kitchen
wall.  Carl and Cassie separated off to sleep in the kitchen.  Nick
wondered if the two of them had formed a relationship throughout the day’s
events as they had become inseparable.

Good for them.  Glad something positive came out
of today.

Nick laid his head back on his rolled-up coat and stared
up at the suspended ceiling hanging above them all.  The lights in the
building had now been switched off and moonlight spilled in through the
surrounding windows.  If it wasn’t for all the bloodshed, one might even
have described the night as beautiful.

Deana would have found this romantic, bedding down on
the floor under the moonlight. 

I miss you… 

He closed his eyes and listened to the silence for what
seemed like hours until, finally, the silence was replaced by the dozing snores
of his companions.  The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him, too,
was a soft whimpering coming from Eve as she struggled with the unseen terrors
of her dreams.

chapter ten

When Nick opened his eyes he was
back at home, standing in his kitchen.  Deana stood at the sink, washing
dishes with her back to him.  James lay on the cold tiles, staring up at
the ceiling as if he was paralysed.

James, what are you doing on the floor?

Nick stepped forward and looked down at his son. 
He tried to speak to him, to tell him to get up, but no sound escaped his
lips.  When he pressed his fingers to his face he realised that it was
because he had no lips.  There was only coarse scar tissue where his mouth
should have been.

Oh God…

Deana turned around to face Nick.  Her face was
mouth-less, too.  Her eyes were wet with blood and crimson tears stained
her cheeks.  In her hand she held a claw hammer.  She offered it to
him.  For some reason he could not stop himself from taking it.  He
held the heavy hammer in his hand and spun around as if he were suspended by
invisible wires.  He was powerless to take control of his own body as he
took two strides across the kitchen floor and knelt beside his son’s paralysed
body.

James continued staring up at the ceiling, blinking
occasionally, but never moving.

Nick raised the hammer above his head – he stared into
his son’s eyes – then brought it down with all of his strength.  It struck
James right between the eyebrows, caving in part of his skull and filling his
eye sockets with blood. 

Nick felt sick, horrified by what he had done.

He raised the hammer again.

This time he struck his son in the mouth, shattering his
small teeth into tiny shards.  James choked and spluttered as he struck
with the hammer again, shattering his jaw completely and sending it sideways.

Nick wanted to die, to stop existing, and escape the
abominable fate of destroying his son’s beautiful face. 

He raised the hammer again.

Nick swung the hammer downwards, again and again,
spraying blood and bone fragments into the air and coating everything with gore
as he split apart flesh and mashed up brain matter.  By the time he was
through, there was nothing left of James but a lumpy, red residue on the grimy
kitchen tiles.

He had just killed his son.

Again.

And Nick knew that he would keep on doing the exact same
thing every night when he closed his eyes.  Sleep would never again come
easy.

In his dreams, he looked over at his wife
pleadingly.  This time Deana was facing him.  She held a chef’s knife
in her hand.  Again, Nick was powerless as he took it from her.  

When he turned back around, James’s face was back to how
it had been, untouched by the vicious blows of the hammer; once again innocent
and beautiful. 

Nick knelt down and got back to work.

He raised the knife.

***

Nick’s eyes snapped open. 
His breathing was wet and ragged, hurting his chest as it forced its way from
his lungs.  He was surrounded by darkness, not full black but more of a
floating gloom.  When he saw the moon through the windows, he remembered
where he was – he remembered everything.

Oh God.  James, Deana.  What the hell
happened to my life?  It just went away in the blink of an eye.

He sat up a little too quickly and thought he was going
to throw up.  The taste of cheap burger meat rose up and filled his
gullet.  Then he heard something and spotted that the lights were on in
the kitchen area behind the counters. 

In the darkness, he could see the fuzzy shapes of Eve
and Pauline sleeping nearby.  Whoever was in the kitchen, it wasn’t them.

Then who?

He rolled onto his knees and rose slowly to his
feet.  After what everybody had been through, he did not want to wake
anybody up unjustly.

 The sounds continued.  As he headed over to
the gap in the service counter, it seemed like somebody was weeping.

What the hell?

Is somebody crying?

Nick kept his footsteps slow and careful.  He slid
between the various cookers and countertops and tried not to make a
sound.  For some reason he felt compelled to creep, to keep his approach
clandestine.

At the far end of the kitchen was an L-shaped corridor
where the fridges were located.  Peeking out from around that corner was a
pair of legs.  The feet sported heavy work boots that Nick thought he
recognised.

I know whose boots those are.

Nick rounded the corner to see Carl lying face down on
the floor.  There was no blood and it was not immediately apparent what
had happened to him.  He could even have been sleeping, but somehow Nick
knew it wasn’t true.  He knew it for sure when he spotted Jan standing
over Cassie while the girl cowered on the floor without her shirt.

Jan’s eyes immediately went wide when he noticed Nick’s
presence.  He quickly put his hands up in submission, holding them high
above his head.  “This isn’t what it looks like, brother,” he said.

“You have no idea what this fucking looks like,” Nick
growled.  He looked down at Cassie, who was visibly stricken by whatever
event had just transpired, and then shook his head in disgust.  “Cassie,
it’s okay.  Come over here, to me.”

For a second it looked like she might refuse, but then
she clambered to her feet shakily and scuttled over to him.  Nick placed
her behind him.

Jan stared Cassie hard in the eye as she cowered behind
Nick.  “You remember what we spoke about, sweetheart, okay?”

“You don’t talk to her,” Nick said.  “You don’t say
a word to her, you understand me?”

Jan shook his head.  “You got this all wrong,
brother.”

“The only thing I got wrong was letting a bunch of
criminals tag along with us.  Soon as the sun is up, you’re gone. 
When the others hear about this they’re going to lynch you.”

Jan laughed, his barrel chest heaving in and out. 
“Who?  You and Dave?  Don’t make me shit myself!”

Nick shoved out at Jan angrily, but found himself
swatted aside like a measly fly.  The larger man punched him in the ribs
and then shoved him aside with ease.  Nick flopped to his knees, clutching
his abdomen.  His lungs felt like they might explode as he fought
desperately to catch a breath.

Jan strode forwards and shoved him backwards with a
large right foot.  He glared down at Nick as though he were a child. 
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” he said, “and we’ll see who gets
lynched.” 

Then the large man turned and walked away.  As he
did so, he looked Cassie in the eye again.  “You just keep quiet and
things will sort themselves out, sweetheart.  Trust me.”

Nick managed to catch a strangled breath and roll onto
his side.  He shuddered in pain.  Cassie came up beside him and
helped him to his feet.  Her shirt was rolled up on the floor and she
hastily picked it up and put it back on over her white, satin bra.  Then
it was as if she had suddenly remembered that Carl was unconscious.  She
dropped to her knees beside him and patted his cheeks.  “Wake up,” she
pleaded. 

Carl began to moan.  His eyes fluttered open
slowly.  “W-what happened?  My head feels like a Skoda parked on it.”

“I think you got struck from behind,” Nick
explained.  “By Jan.”

“Motherfu-“

“Don’t worry about it for now,” said Cassie in a
soothing voice.  “We can talk about it tomorrow.  Let’s just go and
get some sleep.”

Together they picked Carl up off the floor and started
dragging him towards the restaurant floor.  He was still pretty much out
of it, but was gradually regaining his senses.

“What the hell happened?” Nick asked Cassie.

She shook her head.  “Nothing.  Don’t worry
about it.”

“Jesus, Cassie.  Don’t listen to what that son of a
bitch told you.  It’s okay now, you’re safe.  You can tell me what
happened.”

Cassie huffed as they got Carl down onto the floor
beside the service counter.  “None of us is
safe
anymore. 
We’re all screwed.”

Nick didn’t want to argue with the girl and Cassie
obviously didn’t want to talk about what had happened; at least not right
now.  There was no point prodding her. 

“Okay,” he whispered to her.  “Get some sleep and
we’ll talk in the morning.  Don’t go wandering off anywhere, okay? 
Stay close.”

Nick headed back towards his spot between Eve and
Pauline.  He looked around for Jan and the other prisoners as he
went.  The three of them were huddled together on the floor by the
restaurant’s exit doors.  Jan seemed to be having a heated discussion with
Dash, but both lowered their voices when they noticed Nick’s presence.

What are they talking about?  Are they plotting
something?

Nick settled back onto his spot on the floor and took a
deep breath.  His breathing was still laboured after the punch Jan had
delivered to his ribs.  The guy was big –
huge
– no doubt about it,
and if it came down to violence Nick wasn’t confident what the outcome would
be.

“Hey,” said Eve in a whisper.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he lied to her.  “I’ll tell you about it
in the morning.  Just make sure you and Pauline don’t go anywhere in the
night without letting me know first.”

Eve shuffled across the floor so that she was only
inches away from him.  “Okay,” she said.  “Same goes for you. 
No sneaking off again without telling me first.”

“Deal.”

Nick stared up at the ceiling and wondered what the
morning would bring.