Mutation (Twenty-Five Percent Book 1) (13 page)

“All the bad people are gone now,” he said, “so we’ll be safe.”

Alex smiled, clipping the badge back onto his belt.  “That’s very brave of you, and good job.  You are going to make a fine policeman one day.”

Paul grinned and nodded, then ran into the kitchen.

“Do your eyes hurt?”

Alex looked at Millie, who had stopped colouring and was studying him with a slight frown on her round face. 

“No, they don’t hurt at all.  But I can see in the dark.”

Her eyes widened.  “Really?”

He smiled and nodded.  “Really.”

“You’re not like the bad people outside.  Daddy says we should run away from them because they want to hurt us.”

Alex’s gut twisted into a knot.  “That’s good advice.  You do just what your daddy and mummy tell you and they’ll keep you safe.”

She nodded, smiled and returned her attention to her book.  Alex stared at her for a few seconds before standing and walking through to the kitchen.  Paul ran past him back into the living room.

Len and Maggie looked up from the food they were working on.  The aroma of cheese on toast made Alex’s mouth water and he had to swallow before speaking.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen out there,” he said, “but you can’t rely on help coming.  You need to keep yourselves and your children safe, and this is how.” 

He instructed them on how to not attract attention to themselves or the house, on rationing their food, on how to defend themselves against eaters and other people and on how to avoid becoming infected.  Finally, he took the knife from his belt.

“I applaud your attempt to protect your family,” he said to Len, smiling, “but your execution was terrible.  Luckily for me.”  He touched his fingers to his wounded arm.

Len smiled.  “Again, I’m really sorry...”

“No, your instincts were good to try.  But there are some techniques which will make it much more effective if you have to do it again.”  He flipped the knife over to hold it pointing downwards in his fist.  “First of all, hold the knife like this.”

Len looked at his hand, an uncertain frown on his face.  “I don’t know.  I don’t want to really hurt anyone.”

“I understand,” Alex said, “but you may have no choice.  People are scared and that means they might become violent.”  He glanced back at the door through to the living room.  “Your children are depending on you.”

He held the knife out.  Len looked at it as if it would bite him. 

Maggie reached out and took it.  “Tell us what to do.”

“I wish we could have stayed and protected them.”

Alex glanced back at the Carlson’s house as they walked away along the access road at the end of the garden.

“You can’t help everyone,” Micah said.  “But I know what you mean.” 

He looked down at the new ‘tattoo’ Millie had drawn in red and yellow crayon on the back of his hand.  She’d given them both one, a big, bright flower, saying it would keep them safe from the bad people outside. 

Small children were Alex’s Kryptonite.  He’d been well and truly wrapped around his six-year-old niece’s little finger since the moment she was born.  Millie’s words had had him blinking back tears.  Tough, manly tears, mind.   

Alex hefted the bag containing the rifle and ammunition and looked down at the sword hanging by his leg.  The tools they’d seen in the garage had turned out to be for Len’s job.  He made custom furniture for a living and used some left over leather to rivet together a makeshift scabbard to attach to Alex’s belt.  He’d also helped to sharpen the sword and it fairly gleamed along its edges now.  Alex was slightly afraid he might hurt himself with it.

All in all, he considered getting stabbed a small price to pay for the Carlson’s kindness.  Even though his arm was still throbbing.

They made their way eastwards through the city.  There were undoubtedly more eaters on the streets this morning.  For the most part they were able to avoid them, but occasionally Alex had to kill one.  The now practically razor-sharp sword was already getting some action. 

Uninfected people were few and far between and mostly only glimpsed from a distance or through windows.  The wisest were hiding in their houses.  Other than the occasional eater moan or distant, horrifying scream, it was eerily quiet.

The military helicopter was circling the city as it had been the day before.  Sometimes it would disappear for a while, only to reappear later on.  Alex wondered what they were doing and why they weren’t coming down to help.  He also wondered where the rest of the armed forces were when they should have been flooding the city by now. 

Maybe there was no army any more.  Maybe the helicopter was all that was left. 

Inconceivable as it seemed, maybe the whole country was overrun.  

Alex thought about his family again, about his little niece, and shook his head.  No, it couldn’t be. There had to be an explanation.  He just didn’t know what it was.

He was watching the chopper pass overhead yet again as they cut through the graveyard of an old church when Micah, walking in front of him, came to an abrupt halt at the gate and backed up rapidly.  Alex stumbled as they collided, but Micah didn’t even look at him.

“What’s going on?” Alex said, instinctively keeping his voice down to a whisper.

Micah didn’t answer, but pressed himself against the tall brick wall next to the gate and beckoned him forward. Alex joined him and peered around the corner. 

The road they’d come to was one of the main routes north out of the city.  They’d been skirting the middle of town, thinking the density of the population there would mean an increase in the number of eaters, and were now fairly close to the northern edge of the city centre.  Park Street ran almost ramrod straight from the centre to the outskirts of town.  Alex remembered something about it following the route of a Roman road.

The street ahead of them, and as far to his right and left as Alex could see, was packed with cars, like one giant, unmoving traffic jam. 

He said the first thing that came to mind.  “Where is everyone?”

There were no drivers, no passengers, no bodies.  Blood stained the ground in some places, but not enough to account for the original occupants of such a large number of vehicles.  The occasional eater wandered among the makeshift car park.

“Come on,” Micah said, keeping low and running for the nearest edge of the gridlock.

Alex followed his lead and they wormed their way in amongst the steel maze.  Many of the cars had their doors hanging open, as if they’d been abandoned in a hurry.  The road was only four lanes wide, two in each direction, but they had to climb over several bonnets to get across.  There were even cars on the pavements. Every vehicle in every lane was facing in the same direction - north, away from the centre.

Alex leaned down to peer inside a blue mini.

“What on earth...?” Micah said.

Alex looked up to see him standing tall, staring along the road to the north.  He climbed onto the bonnet of a car and stood up.

“Micah, get down,” Alex hissed.  “You’ll bring every eater here to us.”

Micah didn’t seem to hear him as he continued to focus on something down the road.  Alex turned to look in that direction.

It was past noon and the sun was at its zenith, but as it was September it wasn’t quite overhead, instead hanging slightly behind them.  Some distance along the road, something was reflecting the light back at them.  It was like looking at a mini-sun.  When Alex looked away, there were orange spots in front of his eyes. 

“What is that?” he said.

“It looks like metal,” Micah said, shielding his eyes with one hand.

“What, a lorry or something?”

Micah shook his head, frowning.  “No, it’s too big.  And it looks like it spans the whole street.”

Alex climbed up onto the bonnet with him and squinted north.  It did indeed look like something large and metallic was blocking the entire width of the street, at least three storeys high, from where it butted up against the surrounding buildings.  It looked like a huge metal wall had been erected across the road.

Then he saw the movement.

At the base of the wall was a huge, undulating mass of... something.

“Do you see that?” he said.  “In front of the metal thing.”

“Listen,” Micah said.

Alex did, closing his eyes for a moment to concentrate.  It was faint, a low rumble on the breeze, but it was unmistakable.

Eater moans.

Thousands of eater moans.

He opened his eyes and stared at the undulating mass again.  Could those really be eaters? 

A shudder ran up his spine.  He suddenly felt the need to be elsewhere. 

“We should get out of here,” he said, dropping down from the car’s bonnet.

A moan almost made him leap out of his skin.  He whirled around to see a lone eater lumbering towards him, thinning hair dishevelled and matted with blood, arms outstretched.  Raising the sword, Alex drove it into the eater’s open mouth, yanking it back out before the eater fell. 

Micah jumped to the ground beside him and together they made their way quickly through the remaining traffic jam and into the next street running east.  For a while, neither of them spoke.

“Sealing off the city,” Alex said, vocalising his thoughts.

“What?”

“Back at the station yesterday, before I found you in the cells, Inspector Parker said they were sealing off the city to stop the spread.”  He thought back to his boss and friend’s final words to him.  Had that really been less than twenty-four hours ago?

“You mean, you think that’s what we just saw?  Some way they’ve blocked the road?”

“Parker didn’t know what it meant, but what if it was a literal sealing?  A wall to keep the eaters in?”

“But how is that even possible?” Micah said.  “It would have to be on every road leading out.  How could something that big have been done so quickly?  This is Britain.  It takes them six weeks to sort out your council tax bill.”

Alex was thinking.  “Remember all that construction they had a few years ago?  Caused chaos on all the roads leading out of the city centre?”

Micah was nodding.  “They said they were renewing the roads and junctions...”  He stopped walking.  “They’ve been expecting this to happen.”

Alex stopped and looked back at him.  Micah sat down on a nearby wall and stared at Millie’s tattoo on the back of his hand.

“They knew this was coming and they trapped us here and left us to die,” he said.  “How could they do that?”

Alex heard the deep
whump whump whump
of the helicopter approaching and looked up.  It was low, no more than fifty feet above them, and he could see soldiers through the open side staring down at them.

Micah suddenly leaped up. 
“You bastards!”
he screamed up at the chopper.  “People are
dying
down here! 
Children are dying!
”

The helicopter came to a stop in the air, hovering above them.  Alex was looking around for any eaters attracted by the shouting when he saw Micah pull his gun from his belt and aim up.  Two soldiers brought their rifles to bear on him.  Alex ran forward, dropped the bag and grabbed hold of Micah’s wrist, pushing it down.

“Let go of me!” Micah shouted in his face, furiously trying to free his arm from Alex’s grip.

He didn’t let go.  “They’ll shoot you,” he said.  “People need us here.  You need to stay alive.”

Micah glared at him, breathing heavily.  Alex looked back up at the helicopter in time to see the soldiers lower their rifles.  It peeled away, flying over the buildings and out of sight.

He relaxed his hold on Micah’s wrist and he yanked it away, turning his back on him.

“I know how you feel,” Alex said, “but whatever we do, we can’t just throw our lives away.  We have to be careful.”

Micah stood still for a few moments then wiped his hand across his face.  “I know people who might know what’s going on,” he said.  “I’m going to see them.  You can come if you want.”

Without waiting to see what Alex would do, he strode away along the road. 

Alex watched him.  He could go home.  They were only a couple of miles from East Town now, it would take him no more than half an hour at a fast walk.  He could see that his friends were alright, get a change of clothes, sit down on his own sofa and relax.  Feed his caffeine addiction. 

He sighed and picked up the bag, jogging after Micah to catch up.  He had an uncomfortable feeling he was going to regret this.

Whoever these people were Micah was going to see, he hoped they liked Survivors.

The area was called Castle Hill, although to Alex’s knowledge there had never been a castle there. 

A mixture of detached houses on large plots mingled with new builds, on smaller plots.  The property prices here were lower than the equivalent sized residences on the opposite side of the city, thanks to its proximity to East Town, but it was still a nice neighbourhood. 

Alex always got a lot of fearful looks whenever he walked through the area. He made a point of coming here a lot, for that exact reason.

Now it was like the rest of the city, the streets devoid of the uninfected.  There were no eaters either which was strange.  Everywhere they’d been so far had had at least a few of the flesh-hungry moaners.  If it wasn’t for the unnatural hush, Alex could almost have believed it was just a day like any other in sunny Castle Hill.

Micah had been unusually quiet since they’d seen the metal barrier with its mass of eaters, barely saying a word, even when Alex asked where they were going.  Eventually, he stopped asking.

They walked along a wide, leafy street, the cherry trees which would have been carpeting the pavement beneath their feet in pink petals a few months ago now just beginning to show their autumn colours.  Alex followed Micah into the driveway of a large, gabled house.  It had a neat front garden with well tended flowerbeds and a brick path leading to a red door. 

Instead of going to the door, Micah walked between the detached garage and the side of the house to a tall wooden gate with an electronic keypad.  Angling his body so Alex couldn’t see what he was doing, he typed in a code.  Alex heard a lock click.  Micah waited for five seconds, then typed again.  Another lock clicked.  He pushed the gate open and walked through.  Alex followed, wondering what was in here that required such involved security, and what he was about to get himself into.

“Hands in the air!”

Micah stopped at the sound of the woman’s voice, almost causing Alex to trip over him.

“Creedon, do we have to do this every time?”

“Get ‘em up, Clarke.  You know I have to pat you down.  It’s the rule.”

“There is no such rule and you using that excuse to try and feel me up is getting old.”

“Don’t lie, you know you love it.”

Alex moved to the side to look around Micah, but they were still sandwiched between the house and the garage with just a couple of feet in between.  Micah moved to block him, keeping himself between Alex and whoever he was talking to.

“Look, I’ll save you the trouble,” Micah said.  “I’m carrying a Glock 17 in the back of my jeans.”

There was a pause.  “I am so turned on right now.”

“Just tell Bates I’m here.”

“He knows you’re here,” the woman said.  “Anyway, who’s your friend and why won’t you let me see him?”

Micah turned his head.  “Stay behind me,” he said to Alex.

Alex frowned.  “Give me a break.  I can look after myself.”

Before Micah could stop him, he stepped to the side, squeezing past the back corner of the garage. 

A dark haired, thirty-something woman was sitting on the edge of a wooden patio table, one foot resting on a chair in front of her.  She looked like she’d stepped off the cover of Hot Chicks With Guns Monthly; camouflage cargo pants, tight black vest top with a push up bra and a lot of cleavage.  She held a semi-automatic rifle in her left hand, propped up on one thigh.  The whole effect was hot, in a disturbingly ludicrous, is-she-serious kind of way.

As soon as she saw Alex, her smirk vanished and she leapt to her feet, pointing the rifle at his head.

“What the hell, Clarke?” she said, not taking her eyes from Alex.  “What are you doing bringing that
thing
here?”

Micah stepped in front of Alex again, holding his hands up.  “Calm down, Creedon.  We just need to talk to Bates.”

“
We?
  Who’s
we?
  Get out of my way so I can get rid of it.”

“What on earth have you brought me into, Micah?” Alex said, unholstering his pistol while being careful to keep out of sight of the apparently insane woman who wanted to kill him.

“I told you to stay behind me,” he replied.

“Move, Clarke, or I’ll shoot it through you,” Creedon growled.

“What’s going on here?”

Alex looked for the source of the new voice, wondering if he’d have to shoot his way out.  A tall man with cropped salt and pepper hair rounded the corner of the house and came to stand next to Creedon, his hands on his hips.  Alex risked peering around Micah.  Creedon still had her rifle pointed in his direction.

“Clarke’s brought in a white-eye,” she said.

The man turned towards them, glancing at Micah then fixing his eyes on Alex.  Alex held his pistol at his waist and tried to affect an air of confident nonchalance.

“You planning on shooting us?” the man said.

“Only if I have to.”

“Bates, this is Detective Constable Alex MacCallum,” Micah said.  “We need to talk to you.”

“You’d better have a damn good reason for bringing a white-eye in here, Micah,” Bates said.  “Police or not.”

“This is ridiculous,” Micah said, gesticulating at Bates.  “How many times have I helped you out?  You know me.  Have I ever betrayed your trust?”

Bates was silent for a few seconds, staring at Alex.  Alex stared back, wishing he knew what was going on.  He had come to trust Micah, but he was now wondering if that would turn out to be a monumental error of judgement.

“Stand down, Creedon,” Bates said eventually.

“What?”
she shrieked.  “Are you
insane
?  That’s a white-eye!”

“Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said, looking at her sharply.

She glared at him and lowered her rifle with a huff.

Alex watched her carefully as Bates led them inside the house.  Her narrowed eyes never left him.  Just before he stepped in through the back door, he winked at her.  She almost exploded and he smiled as he walked inside. 

It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do under the circumstances, but it felt good.

“Are you insane?” Micah muttered as he followed him in.  “Creedon’s borderline psychotic.”

“Really?  And she seemed like such a sweetheart.”

Micah shook his head.  “How are you still alive?”

Bates led them through the kitchen, into the hallway and up the stairs.  Alex counted twenty-three people spread throughout the house, that he could see.  Most of them, including Bates, were dressed in khaki camouflage like Creedon.  Several of them were openly wearing firearms. 

Every one of them stared at Alex like he was something disgusting they’d stepped in.  He kept an eye on the exits, in case he had to use one in a hurry.

Once upstairs, they went straight what must have at one time been a bedroom.  Now it was a small office, with a dark wood desk, a smattering of chairs, and a computer.  A large map of the city covered the top half of one entire wall.  Red dots were scattered across it, with a concentration in East Town, right where Alex lived. 

Bates lowered himself into a black leather office chair on the far side of the desk.

Alex stared at the map, letting his gaze roam around the streets marked out on the paper.  He knew several Survivors who didn’t live in East Town and found their addresses on the map, seeing the red dots marking out their houses.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Micah said from behind him.

Alex turned around.  “Really?  Because how it looks is that this is the secret hideout of some anti-Survivor club, and now you’ve dragged me into the middle of it.  Have I got that right?”

Micah was twisting a gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand.  Alex didn’t see him as the nervous type, so the subconscious movement made him uncomfortable.  He glanced at the door.

“Maybe you should explain why you’ve brought this
man
here,” Bates said, looking at Micah.

“Okay,” he said, sitting in one of two chairs across the desk from Bates, “Alex, yes, this is an anti-Survivor group, but we need help and they can help us.  They will have information we don’t.  Bates, I brought Alex here because I trust him.  He’s saved my life twice since yesterday...”

“Three times,” Alex said, sitting down next to Micah.

Micah frowned.  “Three?  I’m counting letting me out of the cell and pulling that eater off me earlier.  When else?”

“The helicopter,” he said.  “If I hadn’t stopped you from taking a pointless pot shot at it, you’d be riddled with bullets now.  And probably I would be too.”

Micah pursed his lips.  “Hm.  Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it,” Alex said.  “I saw the look in their eyes, those soldiers were ready to shoot.”

“Okay, for the sake of argument, I will give you the helicopter.”

“And then there was when I got us out of the station car park...”

“Oh no, I’m not giving you that.  You almost killed us there.  That we got out at all was pure luck and nothing to do with you...”

“
Micah
,” Bates snapped.

Both of them looked at the older man.  He raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Micah said. 

Bates sat back and studied Alex.  “So you’re the famous white-eye cop.”

Being called a white-eye every few seconds was beginning to annoy Alex.  He suppressed the urge to show the Rambo wannabe what a Survivor could really do.  “Famous?” he said.

“We know all about you here,” Bates said.  “Not many white-eyes in the police force.”

Alex clenched his fists in his lap.

Micah glanced at him and cleared his throat.  “We’re here because I think we can trade information.  Do you know what’s going on around the city?”

Bates opened his mouth to answer when a knock sounded on the door.  “Enter,” he said.

The door opened and a young man wearing black rimmed glasses poked his head around the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Biggs is back.”

Bates frowned and stood.  “Stay here,” he said before walking out the door and pulling it shut behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Alex said, rounding on Micah.  “Bringing me to the clubhouse for your little band of anti-Survivor, militia-wannabe, psychos?  These people are flipping insane!  And where did they get all those guns?  This is how you repay me for saving your skin four times?” 

He stood and began pacing back and forth in front of the map.

“Will you calm down?” Micah said.  “You’re not in any danger.  And it’s two.  Three at a stretch.”

Alex stopped and gaped at him.  “They have a map of the addresses of every Survivor in the city!  That woman wanted to put me down like a rabid animal.  Right now I’d feel safer out with the eaters.”

“Okay, maybe you want to avoid Creedon, but apart from her...”

“Half the people here are wearing camouflage.  Have any of them actually been in the army?  And what on earth are they camouflaged for?  We’re in a flipping
city!
”

“You’re overreacting...”

“Overreacting?  Are you kidding me?  I’m going to be lucky to make it out of here alive.”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought you’d be in any serious danger,” Micah said.  “I’ve known Bates a long time.  He may be a bit extreme...”

“A
bit
?”

“...but he’s reasonable.”

Alex jabbed his finger at the map.  “
This
is not reasonable.”

“Look, Bates knows stuff.  He’s a raging conspiracy theorist, which is now a good thing.  He’s been waiting for something big like this to happen.  If the government have been planning this, he’ll know something about it.  Plus, I’m hoping to get some weapons out of them.”

Alex frowned.  “How many weapons do they have?  And where did they get those guns?”

“I don’t know where they get them, I just know they have a stash.  Will you sit down?  You’re making me nervous.”

“We’re in the lair of the crazy people in the middle of a city full of things that want to eat us and
I’m
making you nervous?”

“Yes.  Pacing makes me nervous.”

Alex huffed and flopped back down into the chair.  “If I end up dying here, I am so taking you with me.”

Micah rolled his eyes.  “You are such a baby.  You’re a Survivor and a trained police officer and you’re stronger and faster than these people.  Act like it.  Right now they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.  Apart from Creedon.”

“That reasoning doesn’t even work for spiders.  And was that a compliment?”

“No.”

The door opened and Bates came back in, his frown attempting to burrow through to the back of his head.  He sat back down in the chair behind the desk and ran a hand over his short hair.