Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (2 page)

Nick frowned at George’s wife.  “Maybe you should get
him to a doctor, right away.”

She nodded, embarrassed.  Then quickly ushered her
husband away, chastising him all the way out of the shop.

When it was just Nick and Paul left alone in the store
again, they looked at each other in confusion.

“The fuck just happened?” said Paul.

Nick shrugged.  “Hell if I know.  How’s your
hand?”

“Hurts like a mother.  That
gandoo
broke the
skin.  I probably got rabies or something.”

“Then you best stay away from me.  I don’t want to
start frothing at the mouth and biting people.  That guy was a mess.”

“You’re telling me.”

Nick shook his head and rubbed at his temples.  He felt
a huge headache coming on, vibrating like an approaching passenger train. 
“Screw it,” he said.  “I’ve had enough of today.  Let’s just cash up
and get out of here.  I’ll do the conference call at home and pretend I’m
still here.”

Paul nodded, rubbing at his hand and wincing.  “Sounds
good to me, governor.  I’m sure things will be better tomorrow.”

Nick huffed.  “They couldn’t be any worse.”

The roads home were quiet. 
Nick and Paul had managed to leave work at quarter-past-four, before the rush
hour traffic was due to begin.  One or two cars still dotted the lanes of
the duel carriageway – and at one point he’d needed to slow down to let a
rushing ambulance pass by – but for the most part he hadn’t had to drop his
Alfa Romeo below seventy the whole way home.  By ten-to-five he was parked
on the curb and walking into his house.

It was nice to be home a couple hours early and, as he
put his key into the front door, he began to think about what he could do with
the extra time.  Perhaps he would take Deana and James out for a nice meal
someplace.  It’d been a while since they’d had treated themselves and it
would be a nice way to put the dreary and exhausting day behind him.
 Maybe he would forget that tomorrow he would have to endure it all over
again.

And the day after that.  And the day after
that.  And every other day until I die of a stroke or just plain boredom.

Deana was standing barefoot in the hallway when he
stepped inside the porch.  She was obviously surprised to see him home so
early.  “What are you doing back?” she asked; her dark Moroccan eyes
suspicious beneath her choppy black fringe.  “Everything okay?”

“Don’t get me started,” said Nick, hooking his woollen
coat onto one of the porch hangers.  “We had about three customers all day
long and then some weirdo came in and attacked Paul – he’s okay, by the way, so
don’t worry.  In the end I decided it wasn’t even worth being open, so I
closed up early.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I couldn’t care less at this point.  I’ll take the
conference call in the bedroom later, but I’m sure no one will even know. 
You fancy going out for dinner tonight, oh dear wife of mine?”

Surprisingly, Deana didn’t seem enthused by the
suggestion.  “I don’t know, honey,” she said.  “James is feeling a
bit under the weather.  I don’t know if it’s wise taking him out.
 And I don’t want to get a babysitter.”

Nick raised an eyebrow.  “What is it with people
getting sick today?  I swear something must be going around.  What’s
wrong with him?”

“He’s just a little bunged-up, and a headache.
 Probably just needs an early night.  He’s in the living room
watching
Family Guy DVDs
.”

Nick sighed.  “I told you not to let him watch that
show, Deana.  It’s not like
The Simpsons.
”

“It’s alright.  He doesn’t understand the adult
jokes.  Go check on him.  He’ll be glad to see you.”

“Okay,” he said, sighing in defeat of her
argument.  He gave her a peck on the cheek and moved past her.  He
took the door on the left, which led to the living room.  Inside, his
mop-haired little angel lay curled-up on the beige corner sofa.  He was
peering at the television screen, but seemed unable to focus very well. 
He was squinting and blinking his eyes as if something was irritating them.”

“You okay, little dude?  Mommy says you’re not
feeling very well.”

“I have a headache,” James said pitifully.

Nick went and sat on the end of the sofa.  He
pulled his son’s socked feet up onto his lap.  “Oh dear.  I’ll get
Mommy to cook you something nice and then you can get an early night. 
You’ll feel all better.”

“Do I have to go to school?”

Nick laughed and tickled his son’s foot.  But James
didn’t react, which was strange because he was usually very sensitive to
tickle-torture.  He must really have been feeling ill.  Nick tussled
his hair instead.   “We’ll see how you’re feeling tonight, buddy, and
then decide.  So, what’s happening in
Family Guy?
”

“Brian and Stewie are trapped inside a bank and Brian
just ate Stewie’s nappy.”

Nick screwed his face up in disgust. 
“Lovely.  Well, you can carry on watching until dinner, but then it’s
going off, okay?”

He was about to get back up again, to go find Deana, but
he paused when he spotted the thick
Beano
plaster on his son’s finger.

“Hey, buddy.  What happened to your finger?”

“Jordan bit me at school.  I didn’t even call him a
name or nothing.  He got in lots of trouble with Mrs Tanner, though, so
it’s okay.  Mommy had to kiss it better for me and put a
Dennis the
Menace
on it.”

Nick didn’t like the coincidence.  Paul had been
bitten, too.  But what did that mean?  Surely an unruly child biting
his son was nothing to worry about?  It was the type of thing that
happened at first school all the time. 

Still, it was weird.

“Jordan bit you?  Were you feeling ill before that,
or afterwards?”

James shook his head.  “I didn’t feel poorly until
Mommy picked me up.  I started to feel sick in the car and got a
headache.”

Nick patted his son on the leg and gave him the
reassuring smile of a worried parent.  “Okay,” he said.  “You just
rest here and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.  Anything in particular
you’d like?”

“Fish fingers.”

“Anything else?”

“Fish fingers.”

“Okay, fish fingers it is.” 

Nick got up from the sofa and headed out into the
hallway.  Deana was in the kitchen, already starting on dinner.

“His lord requires fish fingers,” he said to her as he
approached from behind and squeezed at her hips. 

“Right-o,” she said.  She was already rummaging
around the fridge freezer so it was easy for her to come out with a large
cardboard box full of Cod sticks.  She set them down on the IKEA breakfast
table, next to a basket of laundry, and brushed off a layer of frost. 
“Did he ask for anything else?  Or just fish fingers?”

“Just fish fingers with a side of fish fingers.  I
suppose you could force him to accept some chips and beans with them.”

“That wouldn’t be because you want chips and beans,
would it?  You’ve got fillet steak in the fridge, you numpty.”

“I know, I have.”  He perched back against the
table.  “But I’m too tired to eat it tonight.  It would just be
wasted on me.  I’ll just have whatever James is having.”

Deana moved up close to him, tiptoed on the tiles, and
gave him a kiss on the mouth.  “You’re not coming down with something as
well, are you, babe?  Because I can’t be doing with nursing you both back
to health.  I am in no mood for man-flu.”

Nick shook his head.  “I’m fine.  Just
tired.  Really, really, really tired.  I don’t know how much longer I
can take working at that bloody place.”

“Find something else, then.  I don’t want you to be
miserable all the time.”

“I’m not
miserable. 
Just…
unfulfilled
. 
Anyway, don’t worry about it for now.  I’m just glad to be home early for
a change.  Shame we can’t go out, but never mind.”

“James show you his battle wound?” Deana asked him.

“His finger?  Yeah.  What happened?”

“Another kid bit him about an hour before I picked him
up.  It wasn’t too bad.  Still bleeding a little when he got home, so
I put a new plaster on it.”

“And kissed it better?”

“Of course!  What kind of mother do you think I
am?”

Nick giggled and then checked his watch.  It was
almost half-five.  “I need to get ready for the conference call,” he said,
giving his wife a quick peck on the lips.  “I’ll try to get away as quick
as I can.”

“Okay, I’ll bring you a coffee up.”

He thanked her and then quickly headed upstairs to use
the phone in the bedroom where it would be quieter.  The last thing he
needed was to be on the conference call and have his son and wife’s voices
giving it away that he was at home instead of at the store where he was
supposed to be.

He opened the door to the bedroom and lay himself down
on the freshly made Queen-size bed, dumping down his keys and wallet on the
glass side-table next to the phone.  The duvet cover was the blue Egyptian
cotton one that he liked so much.  The soft thread immediately relaxed
him.

The conference call would commence at five-thirty sharp,
but the managers of the other stores would usually get on early to check the
lay of the land.
 How did your store do today?  What was footfall
like?  Did you meet your insurance quota?  Is the area manager in a
good or bad mood today?

He picked up the phone and dialled in the number he knew
by heart.  Then he tapped in the login pin number.  There was a brief
silence while the automated service connected him.

When he heard the static of the open line, Nick
introduced himself.  “
Nick Adams, Solihull, Touchwood.
”

There were no replies.  He must have been the first
one there. 
Great
, he thought to himself.  Everyone else has
had such busy days that they’re struggling to even get away and jump on the
call. 

I’m so dead
.

Nick took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting
it echo in the receiver.  He rubbed at his forehead with his free hand and
closed his eyes while he waited for someone else to arrive.  He really
hated conference calls.  Why there had to be one every single evening he
did not know; just like he did not know why he had to be in store for 8AM when
it only took twenty minutes to get ready for a 9AM opening.  It seemed
that Head Office was unaware that Branch Managers had lives outside of work.

There was nothing he could do, though.  He wouldn’t
get paid as much anywhere else in retail.  Most people in the country –
the
world
, in fact – hated their jobs just as much as he did, but for less pay,
so in some ways he was lucky.  At least his family was secure; even if it
did mean he was miserable fifty hours a week.

Nick checked his watch and saw that it was now
5:32.  “Hello,” he said into the receiver.  “Hello, is anyone else
here?”

A second later, the line crackled and another voice
appeared on the line.

“Hey,” said Nick.  “Who’s that?”

“It’s Paul.”

“Paul, what are you doing on the call?”

“I figured you’d need backup after the day we had.”

Nick smiled.  It was good of Paul to go down in
flames with him.  “Thanks, man.  I appreciate it.  It’s just me
and you so far, though.”

“Yeah, I think there’re a couple managers who are
reluctant to get on here.  I phoned around on the way home and found out
that a few other stores were deserted as well.  Evesham only did two
contracts and Tewkesbury did none, so don’t worry too much.”

Nick sighed relief.  “That’s good to know. 
Least I won’t be the only one getting torn a new one.”

Paul started coughing and hacking into the phone.

“You okay, buddy?”

“Just a cold coming on, I think.  Probably from
that
doodi
that bit me earlier.”

“You best not be calling in sick on me tomorrow, dude!”

“Course not.  Can’t leave all the sales to Chelsea,
can I?  There’s only room for one top salesman in our store, and it’s me.”

A crackle on the line and another voice appeared. 
It was the distinctive Australian twang of the area manager.  It grated at
Nick’s nerves every time he heard it.  It wasn’t the accent he hated, it
was the man.

“Who is on the call?” the area manager asked in his
usual pissy tone.

“Just me and Paul,” answered Nick.

“Who might
me and Paul
be?”

“Nick Adams and Paul Patel from Solihull.  No one
else is on the call yet.”

“Yes, I know.”  The area manager spoke as if he
were a fool.  “I’ve had a lot of managers call in sick today, so there
will be no call tonight.”

The line clicked and the area manager was gone.

“
Prick
,” said Paul.

Nick laughed into the line.  “I’d wet myself if he
hadn’t actually gone yet.”

Paul tutted.  “Guy don’t scare me.”

“You find it weird?” asked Nick.  “I mean, what he
said?”

“About managers calling in sick?  I guess so. 
Maybe they all went on a bender and planned a mass sickie.  You know we’re
never in the loop about those things, just because we’re both married and past
the age of thirty.  This is a young man’s game, fella.”

“Yeah, maybe.  I just find it weird with how town
was so quiet today.  And that guy who came in at the end of the day was a
total mess.  There must be a right horrible bug going around.”

“Yeah, the bloody lergy, and
I
have it,” said
Paul, before clearing his throat of phlegm.  “I got to go, governor. 
Think a night in the pub is in order if I’m going to be feeling rough all
night.”

Nick rolled his eyes.  “Just don’t come in with a
hangover.”

“Ha!  I’m Sikh.  We don’t get drunk. 
There’s no beer in the world strong enough.”

Nick laughed and both men exited the call. 

He went downstairs to spend the evening with his family,
hoping that whatever was going around, he wouldn’t catch it.