The Bug: Complete Season One (23 page)
The hotel’s bar had been done out in the same overstated grandeur as the rest of the place. There were chandelier lights, wall-mounted brass lamps, a truly hideously patterned carpet and lots and lots of dark wood. The last time Hoon had seen so much wood in one place, in fact, he’d been aged ten and camping. There must’ve been a good half-acre of rainforest on the walls alone.
Hoon and Sweeney sat across from each other in antique leather tub chairs which had no right to be as comfortable as they were. Both men gently swirled glasses of stupidly expensive Scotch in their hands, but neither of them actually drank yet.
“We were sent across to Inverness,” Sweeney said. He was gazing past Hoon at a stuffed stag’s head mounted above the bar. It gazed forlornly back. “There’d been rioting. The shopping center in the town – Eastgate, you know it?”
Hoon didn’t.
“Well, that’s where it started kicking off. You lot, police, went in to sort it out, but… well, it wasn’t what you’d call your average riot.”
“Don’t imagine you get a lot of riots in the Highlands,” said Hoon, inhaling the peaty bouquet that wafted from the glass. “Average or otherwise.”
“Quite,” agreed Sweeney. “Anyway, it got out of hand, started spreading outside, and we were called in. They wanted us fully loaded. Boots on the ground, armed to the teeth.” He shook his head, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “In Inverness city center! We had no idea what was going on, but over we went, as ordered.”
He stopped then, and finally took a sip of his drink. Hoon had hated him on sight, but then, he hated everyone on sight. At least this one was showing signs of promise, even if it was just through free drink.
“Bad?” Hoon said.
“Very,” said Sweeney. “They were everywhere. People – women, kids – were being pulled to the ground by these… these…
animals
, who were then...” He looked down, steadying himself. “Well, they were killing them, let’s just leave it at that.”
He took another sip of his drink, and Hoon did the same. The liquid coated Hoon’s tongue in a comforting warmth, then burned as it washed down the back of his throat.
“They weren’t human anymore,” Sweeney said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen people do some pretty messed-up things over the years, but this… They were savages, that’s what they were. Tearing at people. Clawing at them. Biting them, would you believe?”
Hoon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the warmth of the whisky stirring memories of the blood that had filled his mouth earlier. He could still feel the man’s veins tearing between his teeth.
“Aye,” he said. “Aye, I can believe that.”
“The orders were to shoot on sight. Anyone behaving… like that, we were to shoot to kill. That was the order,” Sweeney said. His chest heaved as he took a steadying breath. “But some of them were kids. Babies, for Christ’s sake. You’ve got three-year-olds coming at you outside a shopping center in Inverness – in fucking
Inverness
– and we’re supposed to shoot them. Kill them. It wasn’t going to happen. I mean, some of us are parents ourselves.”
He drained the last drops from his glass.
“Course, we should have done. I know that now. Be a lot more of us here if we had.”
“Aye,” said Hoon. “Maybe.”
“How about you?” said Sweeney, giving himself a shake. “What’s your story?”
“My story? Christ, how long you got?” Hoon asked. “Short version is that the whole point of my job is to stop Glasgow tearing itself a new arsehole every night, and last night, I failed.”
Sweeney nodded. “So, Glasgow’s infected, too?”
“I’d say Glasgow’s probably gone, at this point,” Hoon corrected.
Sweeney leaned forward in his chair and glanced around at the empty room. When he spoke, his voice was low and secretive. “Did you see anything else? Besides the people, I mean.”
Hoon knew exactly what the lieutenant was talking about, but was damned if he was going to show his hand yet. “Like what?”
“Like… insects.”
“Insects?”
“Yes. There were dozens of them. Black and shiny, size of mice. Saw them crawling all over the bodies in the streets. Bloody horrible things.”
Hoon twitched. “Aye. We did get a few reports,” Hoon said. He wriggled in the chair, which suddenly felt far less comfortable. “Saw some of them myself, actually. Right up close.”
“Really?” said Sweeney, in the relieved tone of someone who’d been fully expecting to be dismissed as a raving headcase. “Any idea what they are?”
Hoon opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He had a sudden suspicion that the officer was playing him at his own game. “You tell me,” he said.
Sweeney looked at Hoon for several long seconds, as he figured out how much information to trust him with. “From what we can gather, the insects are… I don’t know how to put this… getting inside people. We don’t know how, exactly, but we believe that’s what they’re doing. At first, we thought they were biting people, or injecting them with some sort of toxin, but, well, I saw it.”
“It?” said Hoon.
“I only caught a glimpse,” said Sweeney, holding both hands up as if dismissing his own story before Hoon could. “There was one of them on the neck of a woman who’d been screaming – God, she’d been screaming – but as soon as the insect was on her skin, she just stopped. Just like that. Just stopped and stood there, ignoring the carnage going on all around her.
“I tried to grab for it and pull it off, but… I don’t know. It was like it seeped into her skin. Like she absorbed it. It didn’t cut her, it didn’t burrow inside, it just sort of… soaked in.”
“And what happened to her then?” Hoon asked.
“She became like the others,” Sweeney said. “Well, no, not at first. At first, she just seemed annoyed. Angry. She was talking. Shouting, really. Then she came at me, still just angry, not full-blown demented. Not yet.”
“What did you do?” asked Hoon.
“I warned her. I told her to stop, to back off,” Sweeney said. “And that was when she kicked the crazy into high gear. I had no choice, in the end.”
Hoon nodded. “Aye. I can imagine.”
Sweeney stood. “I’ll go get us another drink.”
While the officer headed for the bar, Hoon turned and looked out through the windows at the grounds beyond. Through the windows on the right were a set of wide stone steps that ran almost the whole length of the castle. From where he was sitting, Hoon couldn’t see where they led, but he was quietly confident it’d be somewhere nauseatingly impressive.
The windows ahead of him – across the room behind where Sweeney had been sitting – showed the approach road that led up from the castle gates. Four big military trucks were parked on what had surely been an immaculate lawn until just a few hours ago. The gate, and the soldiers guarding it, were hidden behind a tree-lined bend, but there were a few others in uniform milling around, rifles in hand.
Of course, Hoon knew those rifles wouldn’t stop the bugs, if they came. Nothing would stop the bugs if they came.
There was a
clunk
as Sweeney sat the bottle on the table between them. Hoon gave it an approving nod, then waited until the lieutenant was back in his seat before he spoke.
“What about the rest of the world?” he asked. “What do you know?”
“Same as here, from what we can gather. Although, we don’t know a whole lot,” Sweeney said. “We tried to retreat back to base, but when we got there…”
“Same thing?” asked Hoon.
“Worse, if anything,” Sweeney told him. “The insects must’ve got in. There might have been people left inside, but… There were too many. Too fast. I ordered a tactical withdr--”
He stopped, mid-word, then shook his head. “We ran away. Came here. Told any of the other squads still out there to do the same.” He reached for the bottle and poured himself a double measure. “Told them it’s to regroup and mount a counter-offensive, but… How do you fight back against the whole world?”
He raised the glass in salute. Hoon titled his own half-full glass towards him. “One of my guys, Evan – religious type, but not in-your-face with it, you know? He swears it’s the end of days.”
“Think he’s right?” Hoon asked.
Sweeney shrugged. “I don’t think he’s wrong,” he said, then he gulped down the drink and his gums drew back with the fire of it. “It’s the insects. The bugs. We don’t know anything about them,” he said. “Maybe if we did, that would give us… I don’t know. It would help. But we don’t. So that’s that.”
Hoon leaned back in his chair. One hand still held his glass. With the other, he slowly drummed his fingers on the polished tabletop. A whispering crept through his head, tickling his scalp and quickening his pulse.
“Maybe we do,” he said.
Sweeney frowned. “Maybe we do what?”
“Know a bit about them,” Hoon said. He wriggled in the seat again, the old leather suddenly making him itch. “Or have a way of finding out, anyway.”
“Oh? How?”
Hoon smiled. He leaned over, picked up the Scotch bottle, then filled Sweeney’s glass almost all the way to the top. “Trust me,” he said. “You’re going to need another drink.”
Amy awkwardly patted Jaden on the back. “Uh, it’s OK,” she said. “Just let it out.”
Jaden straightened up sharply, drawing in a sharp breath through his nose. He wiped his tears on his sleeve and tightened his jaw. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Dude, I’m sorry,” said Col. “I’m so sorry.”
“About what?” asked Mike. “Where’s Amanda? Where’s your mom?”
“She’s dead,” Jaden said. “She’s fucking dead, Mike.”
“What? No. Shit!” Mike spat. He slammed his hands on the wheel. “Shit, shit,
shit
.”
“What the fuck are you so cut up for?” Jaden demanded. “You barely even knew her.”
“There’s a set of points a couple of miles up the track,” Mike said. “Couldn’t figure out how to change them.”
Amy felt Jaden’s whole body go tense. His face darkened. “So… what? You abandoned us here, then came running back so my mom could help you?”
“I didn’t abandon anyone,” said Mike, glancing in the rear view mirror. “I just saved all of you, or didn’t you notice?”
“We wouldn’t have fucking needed saving if you hadn’t taken the train, you piece of shit,” Jaden spat. He pressed the gun against the back of Mike’s head. “Stop the car, Mike.”
Col’s eyes went wide. “Jaden, what are you--?”
“
Stop the fucking car, bitch
!” Jaden hissed.
Mike held Jaden’s gaze in the mirror for a few moments, then tutted and pulled the car in at the side of the road on a long, empty residential street. “There. What now? You going to shoot me?” Mike asked.
“Get out of the car,” Jaden told him.
“Jaden, what are you doing?” Col asked. “Come on, man, put the gun down.”
“Col, I love you, man, but shut the fuck up, OK?” Jaden said, not taking his eyes off the back of Mike’s head. “Michael. Open your door and get out. Now.”
Mike muttered below his breath, but did as he was told. Jaden opened his own door, keeping the handgun trained on Mike.
“Come on, kid, put the gun down,” Mike said. “You don’t need to do this.”
“You left us to die,” Jaden hissed, and the tears filled his eyes again. “You fucking left us at the side of the road to die, and now my mom is gone, Mike. She’s dead. And that means you killed her.
You
.”
Mike nodded slowly. “Guess that’s fair,” he said.
Col’s door opened. “Don’t come out,” Jaden told him.
“Come on, Jaden,” Col said, ignoring the order. “Get in the car.”
“And what? Just let him get away with it?” Jaden said. “Pretend we’re all just one big happy group?”
“What? God, no,” said Col. “Leave him here. Like he did with us. We’ve got his rifle in the car, just leave him.”
Jaden’s eyes darted down to the other handgun that was tucked into Mike’s belt. It was the one Col had taken from the policeman who’d tried to kill him. They’d almost died getting that gun, and Jaden was damned if Mike was going to keep it.
“Give me the other gun,” Jaden said.
“You can’t leave me out here with nothing,” Mike protested.
“We can’t leave you out here with…? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jaden spat. “We’re leaving you exactly how you left us, you dickless camo-wearing fuck. And you’re getting off lightly.” He made a show of pointing his handgun at the tip of Mike’s nose. “Now, give me the gun, or I am going to shoot you in the face.”
Mike chewed his lip for a moment. “No.”
“I’m not fucking around here, Mike,” Jaden warned. “I’m going to shoot you. You killed my mom, man.”
“Bullshit,” said Mike. “You’re not going to--”
Jaden twisted his wrist, just a fraction, and pulled the trigger. Fire exploded from the barrel. The bullet whistled by Mike’s head, missing him by just a few centimeters. He ducked, screaming and covering his head with his hands.
“What the fuck?” he yelped. “OK, OK. Jesus.”
He reached for the gun in his belt. Jaden kept the pistol trained on him. “Slowly,” he said, watching Mike pull the gun free. “Now put it on the ground.”
Mike hesitated, but then set the gun down. “You don’t need to do this,” he said, straightening up.
“I know, but I want to,” said Jaden. “I want to leave you here to die alone. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Fuck you, man,” Mike spat.
“Kick it over to me,” Jaden said, mimicking every cop movie he’d ever seen. “Easy.”
Mike pushed the gun across the asphalt with his foot. Keeping the pistol trained on him, Jaden bent and picked the other weapon up. He tucked it into his own belt, at the back, then opened the driver’s door. “See you around, bitch,” Jaden said, then he lowered the gun and started to climb into the car.
Mike lunged, bringing his foot up and driving it into the door. The door slammed on Jaden, smashing him against the car’s body. He cried out in pain as the edge of the door cut a deep groove across his left shin.
The door was pulled open. Jaden tried to raise the gun, but Mike drove a fist into his face. Once. Twice. Jaden’s nose went
krik
, and suddenly he was choking on his own blood.
“You little fuck,” Mike snarled, hauling Jaden by the hair and throwing him to the ground. Jaden tried to take aim with the gun again, but the gun wasn’t in his hand. Where was it?
Where was it
?
“Point a fucking gun at me?” Mike’s boot connected with Jaden’s ribs, driving the air out of him in a gasp of breath and blood. He kicked him again. Again. “Point a fucking gun
at me
?”
“Yaaaaah!” Col howled as he launched himself onto Mike’s back. Mike staggered, but didn’t fall. He drove the point of his elbow back, connecting hard with Col’s stomach, then reached over his shoulder and caught him by the hair.
“Get off me, you little prick,” Mike barked, bending and tossing Col over his shoulder. Col hit the ground ass-first. He scrambled on the tarmac, frantically trying to get up, but Mike stamped down on his wounded arm and pain stopped Col moving any further.
Jaden rolled onto his side, reaching for the gun tucked into the back of his pants. Mike got there first. He pulled it free, then forced Jaden down onto his back. He knelt on Jaden’s chest and slid the magazine out of the gun, checked it, then slid it back in.
“Two left,” he said. “One in the chamber makes three. That’s pretty fucking convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“Mike, listen to me,” Col wheezed. “You don’t have to do this, OK? You don’t have to do this.”
“D-doesn’t
have
to,” Jaden spluttered through a mouthful of blood. “He wants to. D-don’t you, Mike?”
Mike nodded. “You’re damn right. Nobody threatens me, do you understand me? I came back to help you.”
“You came back because you’re too fucking stupid to work the track points,” Jaden wheezed. He rolled a blob of blood together in his mouth, then spat it at Mike’s face. There was no energy behind it, though, and after curving in the air it fell back down on his own chest. “Well, that was disappointing,” he admitted.
“Yeah, that’s what your mom told me,” Mike said. “When we were in the station? She was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself because – and I quote – ‘that boy has always been a disappointment’.”
Jaden struggled against Mike’s weight. Mike sniggered. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Her words, man, not mine.” He looked at the gun in his hand. “Speaking of words, got any last…”
Mike’s voice trailed off, mid-sentence. He frowned as something stabbed through his chest from behind. He, Jaden and Col all stared at the thin black blade sticking out through the front of his fatigues.
Blood trickled from the corners of Mike’s mouth. He coughed, then began to fall forwards, pulling himself free of the blade. Jaden pushed him aside as he fell, and Mike landed limply on the road beside him.
Jaden and Col looked up to see a shivering Amy standing over them, the insect-like leg held in both hands. Her breath was coming in shaky big gulps, and her eyes swam with tears as she stared down at Mike’s lifeless body.
“Shit,” she muttered, lowering the bug-leg to her side. “I think I officially just became a serial killer.”