Dead Island (18 page)

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Sam said. ‘You can’t think of everything. I’ll go get one. Be right back.’

‘Don’t say that,’ said Purna.

Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘Why not?’

‘Because that’s what they always say in horror movies just before …’ She made a sharp
crrrk
sound and drew a finger swiftly across her throat.

Sam grinned and disappeared. Two minutes later he was back, preceded by the circular shining disc of a heavy-duty flashlight.

‘Quiet as the grave up there,’ he said, and again flashed his teeth in a grin. ‘Guess I shouldn’t say that either, huh?’

He shone the flashlight into the hole, to reveal a circular stone tube like the inside of a well, the walls covered in green-black slime. Despite the light it was too dark for them to see all the way to the bottom. Iron rungs were set into the wall, and Sam dropped to his knees, reached down and gripped the first one to test how strong it was.

‘Seems OK,’ he said.

He went first, stopping every now and then to shine the beam of the flashlight down into the darkness. It was awkward descending with their weapons, especially as the rungs were slippery with slime, but they managed somehow. The deeper they went, the colder it became, the air heavy with the stench of rotting vegetation. Eventually Purna said, ‘I hear water.’

Her voice echoed hollowly off the walls. When the echoes had died away, they all heard the sound of rushing water below. They continued their descent, the sound getting louder, until at last Sam called, ‘We’re nearly there.’

‘What can you see?’ Purna asked.

‘Moving water. Not much else. Wait, there’s a kind of ridge at the side, like a raised path. Looks kind of narrow.’

‘But passable?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

A minute later they were standing at the bottom of the ladder, catching their breath. They were standing in a square stone tunnel on a slippery, wet, narrow sidewalk, beside which oil-black water flowed like a river, glittering and rippling under the flashlight beam.

The tunnel stretched straight and unbroken in both directions. Pointing against the flow, Sam said, ‘I guess we go this way?’

Purna nodded and they started to walk, their feet splatting in puddles of water.

‘It don’t smell like sewage,’ said Sam.

‘I don’t think it is,’ said Purna, ‘but I wouldn’t wash your face in it.’

‘I’m not sure it’s supposed to be flooded like this,’ said Xian Mei. ‘It could be because of rising sea levels. There are lots of internal waterways and swamplands on Banoi and they all link to the ocean. These tunnels may have just taken some of that extra water on board.’

‘You mean this is sea water?’ said Sam.

Xian Mei shrugged. ‘Well, that’s my theory.’

‘Damn,’ Sam said. ‘Shoulda brought my fishing rod.’

Walking along in single file, they lapsed into silence, the flashlight beam slithering and jerking ahead of them. Passing another of the vertical shafts which linked the disused sewer tunnels to the surface, Xian Mei said, ‘There are five buildings between the supermarket and the police station, so the sixth shaft we come to should be the one we want.’

They walked on, passing another shaft and then another. Suddenly Sam stopped.

‘What’s wrong?’ Purna asked.

‘Thought I saw something in the water.’

‘Like what?’

‘I dunno. Something surfaced, then went back under with a splash.’

‘A fish?’

‘Maybe. Or perhaps just a log or something.’

‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Purna. ‘I don’t think the infected can swim.’

Sam nodded, and was about to set off again when something erupted from the water a few metres ahead of them. In the flashlight beam he saw a pair of wide-open jaws edged with pointed teeth, and an enormous grey-pink gullet.

Purna had shoved Sam aside and fired both shotgun barrels into the elongated mouth before he had registered it was a crocodile. The bullets tore into it, shredding its tongue and the underside of its upper jaw, turning the inside of its pink mouth a sudden and startling red.

The massive creature – at least five metres long from snout to tail – twisted in mid-air, like a vast fish caught in a net, so close to them that Sam could have reached out and touched its ridged prehistoric hide. Then it crashed back down into the water, sending up a wave that surged over the narrow sidewalk and drenched them from head to toe. Sam watched as the creature submerged, slipping beneath the now-churning black water like an enemy submarine. He was both awestruck and more terrified than he had ever been in his life. For a few seconds he could neither move nor speak.

Then Purna shoved him in the back. ‘Get going,’ she said.

Sam forced his legs into action, stumbling ahead of her.

‘Is it dead? Did you kill it?’ Xian Mei panted from the rear of the group.

‘No idea,’ replied Purna. ‘And I’m not hanging around to find out.’

By the time they reached the sixth shaft they were still shaking with shock and a raw, primal terror that the creature might attack again. Even Purna was finding it difficult to hold the shotgun steady as she turned briefly to scan the black water behind them.

‘You go first,’ Xian Mei said to Sam. ‘I don’t think either Purna or I will be able to push up a manhole cover from underneath.’

Sam nodded and began to climb, not knowing whether he’d be able to do it himself. While he knew it was true that neither of the girls possessed his brute strength, he wouldn’t have fancied taking on either of them in a fight. With the image of the crocodile still looming large in his mind, he was relieved a few seconds later to hear first Xian Mei and then Purna start to ascend behind him.

At least fucking crocodiles can’t use ladders
, he thought.

The climb seemed twice as long as the descent, and by the time he reached the top of the shaft Sam’s muscles were trembling with fatigue. He paused a moment, sweat running down his face. His arm was throbbing where the zombie in the supermarket had bitten him, and so was the back of his head where he’d hit it on the side of the counter. Ideally he could have done with something to eat and drink, maybe some painkillers and a few hours’ sleep to recharge his batteries. He knew, however, that he wasn’t going to get any of that any time soon. Instead he was somehow going to have to dredge up the energy to launch an attack on the heavily armed low-lifes who had killed Dani and taken Jin hostage. This time yesterday he hadn’t even
met
any of the people currently in the building above him or clinging to the ladder below. Now it seemed they occupied his whole life.

Wrapping his left arm round the topmost iron rung set into the wall of the shaft, Sam took several deep breaths in an effort to stop himself feeling dizzy, then tilted his head back as he directed the flashlight beam upwards. He saw a circular indentation directly above his head where a manhole cover should be, but the manhole cover wasn’t there. Instead, laid across the top of the hole was what looked like wood.

Floorboards, he thought, his spirits sinking. In the intervening years, someone must have laid a wooden floor over the original stone flags. Transferring the flashlight to his left hand, he adjusted his position to reach up and push at the underside of the wooden floor. He expected there to be no give whatsoever, and was astonished when the wood rose easily above his hand.

It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t a wooden floor above him after all, but a trap door – or, more likely, a trap door set into a wooden floor. He allowed the door to settle back into place and briefly told the girls what he had found.

‘Can you open it?’ Purna asked.

‘I think so.’

Sam pushed again and the trap door rose. When it had risen to the extent of his outstretched arm, he climbed up and out, attempting as he did so not to drop the flashlight or impale himself on the machete which he had tucked into the belt of his jeans. He half-expected to find himself surrounded by guys pointing guns at his face, but instead he emerged into what seemed to be a janitor’s office. There was a sink, a mop and bucket, various tools and cleaning implements on shelves, and an armchair with a newspaper folded on the seat.

He turned to help the girls out and then lowered the trap door back into place. Purna crossed the room and put her ear to the door. ‘I can’t hear anything,’ she said.

‘Could be this ain’t even the right building,’ Sam said.

She puffed out her cheeks at the prospect and Sam knew that, despite her focus and drive, she was as fatigued as he was. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ she said.

Once she and Sam were in position, Purna nodded and Xian Mei plucked open the door. Purna and Sam stepped out quickly, turning in opposite directions, guns poised. However, the corridor they stepped into was dark and quiet, and although a brief examination revealed the floor to contain little more than a staff locker room and shower block, it was obvious from the stickers on the lockers and the wording on a staff shift chart on the wall that they were in the right place. As if further proof were needed, at the far end of the corridor was a reinforced fire door with a keypad on the wall beside it, above which a sign read
CELLS
1–12. Idly Purna tapped in the four-digit security code – 4274 – that had failed to open the main door earlier, and was not surprised to find it failed to open this one either. Retracing her steps, she pushed open a set of double doors on to a stairwell and the three of them cautiously and silently began to ascend.

The sign on the wall next to the double doors of the floor above read G. Although that presumably stood for ‘Ground’, Purna guessed that because of the steps outside, which led up to the main door, it was more likely to be the floor above this one where they had first entered the building, and the one above that where they had encountered the three men. She whispered as much to Sam and Xian Mei and they nodded their agreement. The trio ascended another flight, and then another, whereupon Purna crossed to the double doors and peered through the reinforced glass panel set into it. Recognizing the corridor leading to the open-plan office where the men had ambushed them, she turned to check that Sam and Xian Mei were ready, then pushed the door open a few inches.

She slipped through the gap quietly, checking left and right. The door to the office was about three metres to her right on the opposite wall of the corridor. Purna crossed the corridor swiftly, turned to flatten herself against the wall and sidled along it to the door. She waited until Sam and Xian Mei were beside her, then she peered around the edge of the glass door.

She saw the men immediately. They had cleared one of the desks and were sitting around it, playing cards. She saw Jin too. The girl was huddled against the opposite wall, hands and feet tied, face bruised and streaked with tears. Purna saw the oldest of the three men, the one with piggy eyes who had fired at them out of the upstairs window, raise his head and call something across to Jin, his voice rough and mean. Jin cowered, lowering her head, and the other men laughed. Trying not to let her anger cloud her judgement, Purna saw that the older man and the tattooed man had replaced their hunting rifles with Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine guns, presumably from the police armoury. The weapons were propped against their chairs, within easy reach should the need arise. Because the scrawny man was on the far side of the table, Purna couldn’t see where his weapon was, or whether he had replaced his original handgun with something else. She drew her head back and told Sam and Xian Mei what she had seen and how she thought they should handle the situation. Again, and without hesitation, both nodded their agreement.

Purna took a slow deep breath, composing herself, then nodded. The three of them stepped away from the wall, moving into position. Purna nodded once more, then strode forward and kicked the door open, raising the shotgun as it flew back. Before the men with their backs to her had even turned round, she barked, ‘All of you, raise your hands! Do it now!’

She didn’t glance round to see if Sam and Xian Mei had moved into position on either side of her; she trusted them to have followed her instructions. She was focused only on the three men, on what they would do with their hands.

When the tattooed man twisted and reached for his gun, Purna shot him.

She did it without hesitation, blasting a hole in his back. There wasn’t a coin-sized wound and a trickle of blood like on the TV. Instead, a chunk of flesh tore away from between his shoulder blades, shattering his spine and causing blood to gush from him like a punctured water bag. He collapsed forward, his face smashing against the edge of the desk as his chair tipped over. When, a split-second later, the older man jumped up and clawed vainly for his gun, which had already toppled to the floor because he had stupidly knocked it over when he had moved his seat, Sam shot him in the stomach.

The scrawny man, meanwhile, snatched a handgun off the table beside him. The handgun had been hidden from view by the older man’s body, and the scrawny man actually managed to raise it an inch or two before a flare, fired by Xian Mei, exploded in his face. He screamed and went over backwards, but still managed to squeeze the trigger of his gun as he fell, the bullet dislodging a chunk of plaster from the ceiling. To ensure he wouldn’t be able to get off another lucky shot, Purna adjusted her aim, tilted the shotgun down and to the left slightly, and shot him through the heart.

The echoes of the gun battle seemed to reverberate in Sam’s ears for far longer than they should have done. It was only when they finally began to abate that Sam realized the room wasn’t as silent as he had thought. Huddled against the wall, Jin was sobbing hysterically, her hands covering her face, and the man Sam had shot was whimpering and clutching his stomach, his hands and shirt slick with blood.

As Xian Mei went over to comfort Jin, Purna walked forward, cursorily examining the two dead men and then looking dispassionately down at the wounded man at her feet.

‘Please …’ he whispered. ‘Please …’

‘Sorry,’ Purna said, her voice flat and dead, ‘but there’s nothing we can do for you. You can either lie here and die slowly in pain, or we can make it quick.’