The Dark Horde (19 page)

“Brian! Brian, I’m–”

“Haha! And you think that even the police are in on some conspiracy! David, for all you know, I could be in on it too!”

David’s expression was sombre. “If I can’t trust you Brian, then I can trust no one.”

“What about the Coroner? Is he in on it too?”

“The Coroner has as yet only been informed of a delay with the final autopsy report.”

Brian snorted. “So what is it that you’d have me do anyway? I’ve already been summoned back to Howqua Hills and this so far has been a complete waste of my time.”

“Brian, we’re dealing with an alien attack!” David looked nervously around him. “We agreed about the likelihood of a cover-up and now we’re seeing it happen!”

Brian folded his arms. “You’re not answering my question.”

“Well, I was hoping you could. I had hoped that you’d be able to do something or at least offer some advice.”

Brian rose from his chair as he smirked. “Didn’t you pick the wrong person!”

David looked dismayed. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Brian adjusted his belt and pulled out his wallet. “Of course I am. I’ve got enough things of my own to deal with. Sergeant McDougall is expecting to meet me at Frank Weston’s house at six thirty, which means leaving now.”

“I should have known you’d be of no help.”

“Exactly,” Brian said as he drew out a ten-dollar note. “This ought to cover the drink; you can keep the change.”

David slumped in his chair. “Thanks.”

Brian smiled. “Pleasure.”

David stared ahead into space and Brian placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened, but it’s not my place to act. That’s what D24 and the state police are for, so I’ll let them do their job.”

David’s eyes didn’t move from the vacant space in front of him. “Sure.”

Brian leaned over to speak in David’s ear. “But just for the record, I actually believe you that we’re up against something we don’t understand and that no one can be trusted. If you want my advice, do what I’m gunna do: Take a holiday and get away from all this shit!”

David looked dejected as Brian left.

TUESDAY 4:24
PM

Danny walked up the hill from his Unit towards the dining hall, clad in only a white T-shirt and shorts, shivering against the rain and wind. Others jogged past him, eager to meet friends up there, start the run or just trying to keep warm.

Outside the dining hall, a herd of humans gathered, students and their teachers, as the time approached four thirty, when their race was due to start. They stood in the chilling rain, rubbing their arms and legs for warmth. Some chatted and others scanned the clouds for a sign of respite...

But none saw the Dark Horde.

Danny sat alone on a wooden bench along the side of the dining hall, making circles in the white sand with his foot. The cross-country runs used to be scant relief from the ordeal of H Unit, but now there were the voices...

“It doesn’t matter where you run, Danny, we will always find you.”

Mrs Moffatt ascended the steps at the front of the dining hall wearing a blue tracksuit. She turned to the gathering and motioned for them to be quiet.

“I know it’s raining, but it’s only light and expected to clear soon, so today’s long run is still going ahead. Isn’t that good!”

She was answered with groans.

“Today we’re doing Hermit’s Knoll run. It’s a twelve-kilometre run and it’s a new route that was first run last year. I’ll go over the course again for those who weren’t paying attention at lunch time and didn’t check the map up here on the notice board.”

She pointed with a wooden ruler at a map next to her. “The run goes from here, down the hill and past the Wood Shed. Go out the school gate and up the driveway towards Mueller Road. When you get to Mueller Road, you’ll turn right and follow it along for a couple of kilometres, before turning down a track that’ll be marked with the usual orange tape. Follow this track ‘round for a bit, and then you’ll go over a steep hill about halfway along.”

She smiled at the sound of more groans from the audience. “This, folks, is Hermit’s Knoll. From there the track winds back and past a junction where you
don’t
keep going straight ahead, but turn sharply right to head back towards the school. The track crosses Carters Creek a bit further on and following the track up the other side, you’ll see that it joins onto the standard course where the stiles are over the fence into the horse paddock. From there it’s just a simple matter of following the standard course home.”

Danny wasn’t listening to the directions. He never did. It was much easier just to follow those in front of him.

“One final thing. It is raining and most of this course is on dirt tracks, so it’ll be slippery in some places. So take it easy, especially when going downhill like you will when you leave here.”

The humans moved to a line drawn in the sand. Some pushed to the front, others did last minute stretches and some just talked.

The time had come...

Danny saw the others lining up and slowly followed. He stood at the back of the throng to avoid attention.

Mrs Moffatt stood beside the line that bulged with poised runners. She held up the starting pistol. Heads turned to look at her or bent low, eyes and ears straining to judge the moment to start.

Adjusting an earplug, she pulled the trigger...

And like a river bursting its banks, the masses surged forward. Five hundred odd feet trampling down the dirt road leading past the main wood shed, through the gates and out of the school grounds.

The usual show-offs began the race by sprinting away, savouring the few moments they led the pack, before burning themselves out and finishing behind the first hundred.

Danny ran with the tail of the group, in his usual company of the overweight, asthmatic and physically inept. He surrendered his body to the gravity of the hill, letting it carry him like a leaf floating downstream. A slave of will, Danny followed like all the others.

The human herd began to stretch out as they settled into their running rhythms. Fleshy frail creatures struggling to obey orders, their knees wobbling and jarring with their descent.

The lead pack was past the basketball courts and the Wood Shed as the last runners reached the bottom of the hill. By the time the stragglers reached the Wood Shed, the leaders were beyond the school gates and halfway to Mueller Road.

Danny ran in a slow jog at the end of the field. His chest burning, his breath became laboured and a stitch began to aggravate his left side. He made to stop and walk...

But his legs would not respond.

Some alien force dragged him onward, compelling his legs to keep moving... A force he feared was all too familiar.

Danny ran on, moving past the others around him who had stopped to walk like he wished. His face flushed and his side aching, he felt like vomiting but still his body refused to relent. Now positioned behind three-quarters of the pack, he saw some of his fellow Unit members up ahead.

The beast within kept calling...

Danny continued to move further upfield, stranger to this new determination. Of his Unit he passed Mark, then Price, then Mike and the others he ran with.

Some ignored his passing and some turned their heads in amazement, whilst others sneered things like “Are you running away again, Danny!” or “Is your mummy waiting for you at the end!”

Danny ran on past them. The voices, the pain and even the world faded into unconsciousness. It was easy to forget who he was.

He reached Mueller Road and broke into a sprint as he turned down its length, shackled and helpless to this strange drive. He shoved his way past others who normally beat the shit out of him, surging beyond their reach before they could respond. He dashed past the drink stops without slowing and leapt easily over a fallen tree at the side of the road that others avoided.

“That was Danny Malone!” said a stupefied Mrs Farell to the principal Lucas Prescott at the drink stop.

Nearing the track turn-off now and in the upper half of the runners, Danny’s limited body finally gave out on him. His knobbly legs buckled and he went crashing to the hard asphalt. There was a horrible ripping sound as the tarmac tore at his hands and knees.

Nathan and John, the two runners he had just passed, almost followed him down. Jumping clear, they both stopped.

“Shit, Danny! Are you alright?” John said as he moved to Danny’s side to help him up.

Blood flowing down his leg from one of his knees, Danny forced himself up and pushed John away with lacerated hands.

Nathan pointed at Danny’s gory knee. “You better go back to Mr Prescott.”

Danny seemed not to hear them, they couldn’t even be sure that he saw them, he simply turned and ran on again, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Inhuman and unstoppable.

The road became an open path, then a muddy trail winding through Wattle trees towards Hermit’s Knoll. Branches swayed above, dumping wattles, leaves and rain on those below.

Danny, now abreast of three-quarters of the field, didn’t hear the cries of those he passed. There was only the wind in his ears.

Danny coursed up the steep hill and careered down the other side, leaping over boulders and past an ever-thinning field of other runners. His feet slipped a few times on the muddy descent but he retained his footing and the momentum carried him onward.

The ground flattened out and continued through wet scrub until reaching the turn off. Danny charged ahead into the undergrowth the other side of the path, oblivious to the barbed blackberries and stinging nettles there to mar his passage...

Then his head hit something hard and the world went black.

“You’re a failure.”

Danny’s head throbbed with pain, his hair sticky as it clung to his face. His body leaden, he lay immobile in the mud. His eyes stuttered open, but he could only make out splashes of red adorning him. A chill voice whispered in his ear.

“We should kill you now.”

Danny managed a forlorn whimper, “Then do it!”

“Haha! You think we’ll reward you with charity? No Danny, you will suffer. We will torture and rape you until your body is so mangled and broken that you cease to be recognisable as having once been human. We will reduce you to what you started your pathetic existence as: protoplasmic jelly. And then Danny, you will be re-created... As one of uuusss.”

“Wh-Why are you doing this?”

“A puppet does not question its master. It knows only to obey. Now rise!”

As if by strings, Danny was lifted to his feet, scattering flies that crawled over the exposed meat of his torn knee. Searing pain scored his head. His upper body hung in the air like a crucifixion.

“Wh-Wh–”

Danny suddenly pivoted and ran at a tree to his left. Unable to stop himself, he impacted face-on against the unyielding trunk. The crippling force felled him instantly. He felt a burning sensation in his nose as fresh blood began to spill down his face.

“Haha. Dance puppet!”

Once more he rose against his will and threw himself at the tree. Again the collision floored him. Blood washed his eyes and his nose was a pulpy mess squashed against his cheek. Unable to resist, he rose again and again to keep hurling himself at the tree.

“Please! Please stop!”

“Even death is denied you, Danny. There is only one way it will stop.”

“I’ll do anything! Just please stop!”

His head jerked towards the stub of a broken branch, poising to slam eye-first onto the protruding spike.

“Obeeey.”

Danny thrashed at the branches around him, but still his head remained poised for impalement.

Between choked sobs, “I obey! I obey! Ple-e-e-eeeaaassse!”

“You will not fail again.”

Danny flung himself at the spike. He felt it pop his eyeball before driving into his brain... Obliterating consciousness.

TUESDAY 6:31
PM

Brian looked through steady rain on his windshield at Frank Weston’s house. In fading daylight he saw white police tape extending around the modest weatherboard building and down a dirt side road to encompass a white Torana lying there. Neither the building nor the vehicle showed signs of activity. There were no other cars or people to be seen.

Fucking typical.

Brian sighed as he picked up his two-way radio...

“VKC Wangaratta, this is Howqua Hills 150.”

The only reply was static.

“VKC Wangaratta, are you there?”

Again, only static.

He threw the handpiece at the dashboard and flung open the car door. He stepped out of the patrol into a large puddle.

Brian looked down at the muddy water splashed over him...

One fucking thing after another.

A strange mewing sound reached his ears, somewhere close. Brian turned to determine its source as the noise emanated again from a copse of gum trees near the Torana.

That’s it.