The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 3) (8 page)

Twenty-Three

Jack held Nip in his arms like a new-born babe and ran. He leapt over tree roots jutting from the ground, ducked under low hanging boughs and tore through the foliage. He stepped onto the courtyard in front of Falcon’s Nest. He realised his mistake a moment too late. He felt something tighten around his ankle, his head hit the ground, and suddenly he was upside down, swinging gently left to right. His eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness.

Twenty-Four

A mouth opened wide in a snarl. Liz stabbed the prongs of her garden fork through it, and into the Lurcher’s brain. Then she tossed the body aside like a soiled bale of hay. The family were drenched with sweat, their movements slow and laggard. Before them, the pit was a mass of undead bodies, writhing from the Lurchers still alive beneath.

A hand shot out from the heap of bodies and seized Fritz by the leg. Fritz pulled back, but the grip was tight, and stayed firm. The movement pulled the Lurcher out of the pit. Its emaciated body was so light Fritz could hardly feel it. The Lurcher had a torn lip, bent into a harsh smile. Fritz hit it on the head with his bat. The end snapped off, flew up and struck Fritz in the face. He hit the dirt. The Lurcher gripped his other foot and pulled himself up onto his elbows. Drool dribbled out of his mouth as he opened wide.

“Fritz?” Bill said. “Fritz! No!”

There was a screech and a flap of wings as a bird flew at the Lurcher, clawing at his face. The hand released and Fritz scrabbled back. The Lurcher reached up with its hands and gripped the bird. He snapped its wings with ease and bit the bird on the chest, tearing out the brightly coloured feathers. Blood oozed down the Lurcher’s face. The bird screeched in agony.

“Beauty!” Fritz said. “No!”

The Lurcher bit into the flesh of the hapless bird, whose head flopped to the side and became still. Fritz went into a mad rage and flew at the Lurcher with his broken bat, stabbing it in the face. It was dead after the third strike, but he kept at it. Soon there was nothing left but a bloody mess. Out of breath, Fritz fell to his knees before the bird.

“Beauty…” he said. “No…”

He daren’t touch Beauty after the Lurcher had bitten her.

“Fritz,” Liz said. “Get up. We have to go.”

“We can’t go,” Bill said. “There are still a lot of them left.”

“Bill,” Liz said. “We can’t keep going like this.”

“There are snares around the house,” Ernest said. “We could use those.”

“There won’t be enough to kill all these Lurchers,” Bill said. “Besides, I want to keep them away from the house.”

“So what do you want to do?” Ernest said.

“I say we lead the Lurchers away from Falcon’s Nest,” Bill said, “and make our way to the Bat Cave and get the boat. We’ll bring it around to Falcon’s Nest and get Jack and Francis.”

“‘The Bat Cave’,” Ernest said, shaking his head. “Why did we let Francis name it?”

Fritz was still on his knees. Ernest pulled on his arm, but he wouldn’t get up.

“She was a good bird,” Ernest said. “She gave her life to save yours. Don’t throw it away now.”

Fritz was silent for a moment, and then got to his feet. The family made their way through the thick jungle foliage. They stopped every hundred yards beating their weapons on the trees and shouting at the top of their voices, stopping when they heard groans and snapping twigs. The incline increased and they began the ascent. The jungle died away, leaving open space on all sides. The sky was dark, not a star in sight. There was only the briefest of flashes of light when the moon looked out from behind its cloudy veil. A flash of lightning revealed the climb before them, and a few seconds later, a deep rumble of thunder followed that echoed the family’s morose mood. Halfway up Sharpie they turned to look back and found the Lurchers emerging from the jungle.

“These things never give up, do they?” Ernest said.

“They don’t know how to give up,” Bill said.

“Do we?” Liz said.

Bodies aching and panting for air, the family scaled the final ascent to the top of the mountain. Shaking, and weak with fatigue, Ernest put his hand on a boulder. It leaned forward, and a small crack marched across its surface. Ernest held his breath, and then breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t fall. There was a grinding noise, and the boulder teetered forward and rolled down the hill, reverberating like a herd of horses. It crashed down the mountainside and flattened a train of Lurchers.

“What was all that noise?” Liz said, reappearing from the summit.

Fritz and Ernest shared a look, eyes wide. A smile appeared on their faces.

“It’s Ernest,” Fritz said. “He had an accident and it might be the best idea he’s ever had!”

“Even inadvertently I’m a genius!” Ernest said.

“Yes,” Fritz said, “but saying you’re a genius isn’t genius.”

Fritz moved up to another boulder, blown and shaped into a large round ball by the wind.

“He put his hand on a boulder like this,” he said.

The boulder leaned forward and toppled down the mountainside, squashing more Lurchers in its path. Bill clapped Ernest on the shoulder.

“And look!” he said. “They’re all coming out to investigate the noise! We still might win this thing!”

Twenty-Five

He heard a voice shouting somewhere in the distance… Far in the distance… It was fuzzy and unclear. When he opened his eyes he found his vision just as muddy.

“…ack! Are you all right? Shall I…? Jack? Shall I come down?”

Jack recognised the voice, and it snapped him out of his daze.

“No,” Jack said in a groggy voice. “Stay there, Francis. I’ll be all right.”

Jack was upside down, hanging by one foot. Nip sat on the ground before him, looking at him with concern. Jack reached for the knife in his back pocket. But as he reached in, it slipped past his hand and hit the ground. Jack turned and peered out the corner of his eye, but couldn’t see his knife. Jack turned to Nip.

“Nip,” he said. “Knife. Get my knife.”

Nip cocked his head to one side.

“Knife,” Jack said. “Get it. Go on.”

Nip blinked, unmoving.

“Why didn’t I teach you the word for knife?” Jack said. “Idiot!”

Jack tilted his weight forward, then back, forward, and back again, building up momentum. As he swung back, he saw his knife. He reached for it, but missed. As he swung in again for another try, his fingertips grazed it, and then on the third attempt, he grabbed it.

“Yes!” he said.

Something tightened around his wrist. His arm was drawn up alongside his foot.

“This is great,” Jack said. “Really great.”

He still had the knife in one hand. He tried to cut the vine with it, but the angle was too awkward. He tried to bring his free hand up to take the knife, but could only reach up to his forearm. Jack froze. There was a groan, long and drawn out like a dying man’s last breath. It came from the foliage behind him. Eyes wide with fear, Jack looked at Nip.

“I know you’re in pain, Nip,” Jack said, voice low, “but please, help me.”

The little capuchin monkey must have picked up on something, as he got up onto his tiny feet and limped over to Jack’s outstretched hand. He climbed, careful not to use his injured foot.

“The vine!” Jack said. “Bite it! Bite!”

The foliage shook, and the low groan became louder. Nip’s hand gripped the folds of Jack’s trousers as he pulled himself up Jack’s leg.

“Yes!” Jack said. “Bite!”

Nip hesitated. He pointed at the vine.

“Yes!” Jack said. Bite it!”

Nip bit Jack on the ankle.

“Ow!” Jack said.

The groan stopped, and Jack could sense the creature turning to identify where the exclamation had come from.

“Please, Nip,” Jack said. “Please, understand. Bite the vine. The vine.”

Nip lowered his mouth to the vine and turned to Jack with a questioning look. Jack nodded. Nip bit at it. Jack turned to see the foliage rustle and a torn grey arm begin to emerge.

“Hurry Nip!” Jack said. “Hurry!”

The vine snapped. Jack took the knife from his trapped hand and severed the second vine.

“Come on, Nip!” he said.

The figure stepped out from the foliage, revealing a face with a ruined nose, and teeth visible through both cheeks. Behind her were half a dozen other Lurchers. Jack hugged Nip close to his chest and hot stepped it across the courtyard, careful where he placed his feet. There was the whip sound of the snares pulling tight around one ankle… Two… Three… Four… Jack got to the winch. He saw another Lurcher step into a trap. The final Lurcher barrelled down on him. Francis pushed the water canister over the edge and onto the ground. Jack flew up to Falcon’s Nest, out of the Lurcher’s reach. Francis took Nip off Jack and set him down on a cushion. Jack hugged Francis.

“What’s happening?” Francis said. “I heard gunshots.”

“That was just Dad,” Jack said. “How are things here?”

“Fine. These are the first Lurchers I’ve seen all night.”

“Good,” Jack said. “Hopefully they’ll be the last.”

Twenty-Six

But even as he spoke, more Lurchers came through the foliage and spilled across the courtyard. Snares trapped feet, but slipped off those with missing appendages. The courtyard was alive with hanging writhing bodies. Few of the traps had not been set off. The Lurchers scratched at the bark of the tree, and then lowered their faces to it. They bit at it, the sharp fibres stabbing their mouth and noses, splinters protruding from their faces like they’d received piercings.

“They can’t get up here,” Francis said.

“No,” Jack said, “but they can take us down there. They’re biting through the bark. They won’t stop until they bite all the way through.”

“But they don’t eat trees!”

“They’re not eating it. They’re cutting through it. They’re going to take this tree down, and us with it.”

“What’re we going to do?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Jack said. “But I suppose we can slow them down.”

He picked up a ceramic bowl, took careful aim, and dropped it over the side. It crushed a Lurcher’s skull. Francis grabbed an end table, and together they dumped it over the side. Another two Lurchers fell. Jack ransacked the living room, dropping vases and photo frames. Francis did the same with the kitchen, tossing out saucepans, knives and baking trays. They ransacked the whole house, but the Lurchers kept coming and chomping at the tree trunk. The whole treehouse lurched to one side. Jack and Francis exchanged a look.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jack said.

He picked up a backpack and put Nip into it. Jack went to the cable and monkey-barred his way across it. On the other side, he took off the backpack and put Nip down. He turned back to Francis, who was looking at the ground. The Lurchers were still munching away at the tree.

“Your turn,” Jack said.

“Are you sure about this?” Francis said. “Mum said not to leave the house.”

“I’m pretty sure this situation overrides that order. And when she comes later, you can blame me and say it’s all my fault.”

“Okay,” Francis said. “Here I come.”

Francis held onto the cable with his hands and wrapped his feet around the end. He fed his hands along the cable and dragged his legs behind.

“That’s it,” Jack said. “You’re doing good. Keep coming.”

The treehouse juddered. The vibrations travelled along the cable. Francis squealed and hugged the cable tight. A handful of Lurchers turned to look up at Francis crawling along the cable. Lightning struck, and Francis screamed again.

“Jack,” he said. “I’m scared. I want to go back.”

The treehouse leaned over, pulling the cable tighter. Jack gripped it in both hands, fearful it would be pulled out at his end.

“You can’t go back,” Jack said. “Keep crawling this way.”

“I can’t,” Francis said.

“Think how proud Mum and Dad will be when I tell them you did this.”

“Mum and Dad aren’t coming back.”

“Of course they’re coming back,” Jack said.

The gun in his pocket felt heavy. Jack swallowed.

“And I’ll make you a nice badge like the one you made me if you come over here,” he said.

“You will?”

“I promise,” Jack said. “Now come on, you can do this. Just take it one step at a time.”

Francis loosened his grip a little.

“Yes,” he said. “Okay. I can do it.”

Francis passed one hand over the other.

“Good,” Jack said. “Good. Keep coming. That’s it.”

There was a loud crack and Falcon’s Nest screamed like it was in pain. The cable tightened, and then the strut attached to their parent’s treehouse snapped. Francis swung toward the boys’ tree and smacked into it. One of his hands lost its grip. The other maintained it, but now he was only a metre off the ground. The Lurchers turned to face him, their white eyes gleaming in a shaft of moonlight. Francis’s eyes went wide. The Lurchers ambled toward him.

“No!” Francis said. “No! No!”

“Climb!” Jack said. “Climb!”

Francis did, his feet scrambling across the tree’s bark, finding no purchase. Jack seized the wire and pulled. Francis rose two feet. The Lurchers reached up with hungry hands, but felt only the soles of Francis’s shoes. A Lurcher managed to pull one off. Francis squealed. Jack’s arms shook with Francis’s weight.

“You have to come up!” Jack said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hold on!”

“Okay,” Francis said.

He pulled himself up. The cable slipped through Jack’s sweaty hands. Francis fell a foot and jolted to a stop. He screamed.

“Hurry!” Jack said.

Francis pulled himself up the cable, one hand after the other. He got to the top, hands on the doorframe, and then pulled himself up. Inside the treehouse, he collapsed on the floor. Jack let go of the cable. It jittered side to side, the Lurchers’ bodies rubbing against it. He could feel the Lurchers’ teeth grinding as they began to munch on the tree trunk down below.