10
The Day
I wanted to tell her that it hadn't been me, that such a thoroughly twisted, reprehensible act would never even occur to me, let alone come to fruition. I had no memory of being a part of it and as such should have been angry at the accusation and the way she had thrown me from the car but strangely this was just an internal observation. There was no anger, no kernel of self righteousness ready to explode into defending myself against the blame that was levelled against me. It was as if I knew then, before I even looked at my hands – which bore rope burns here and there, cuts, scrapes, and the unmistakable smears of blood – that I had done this deed.
She didn't give me time to explain myself but I had no way of formulating an explanation anyway. My role as protector and healer was a shattered façade, a mask I had worn over wounds and thoughts and deeds that were everything I had so despised in the murderers of the police station.
Eliza grabbed me forcibly by my hair, before driving her fist across my face. I didn’t resist, as the cold realisation of what I had done was too fresh and had sapped any resistance from my body. I fell onto the ground, before grunting and moaning instinctively as she rained kicks upon my shoulders, back and head.
She pulled me onto my back and wrapped her hands around my throat, squeezing with all the strength that her anger was fuelling. I felt my windpipe convulsing as I gasped for breath. The fire in Eliza’s eyes was the fury of the righteous and I deserved my fate. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.
There was no end though, no release. Her hands relaxed. Her own moral compass was reasserted. It seemed she would not and could not kill me, not like this. She still spoke low and urgently, not raising her voice above a venom filled whisper.
“Get them down and back into the sheets now. You had better undo all of this before the others wake up or so help me I will find a way to kill you. I don't care how much you know about medicine or how useful you are in a fight, when you do this... something as horrific as...” she faltered, running out of steam as she looked past me at the bodies, as if the sheer callousness of the sight was sapping the strength from her.
I worked hard and fast, cutting the ropes and removing the branches, tears rolling down my cheeks as I moved the desecrated remains of the two women back into something approximating peace upon the ground. I cried for them and like a self indulgent child I also cried for myself, for the new life I had somehow sabotaged without even knowing how or why. Within ten minutes I had covered the bodies back up, wrapping them tightly. Blood began to stain the sheets around the corpses throats, a dark reminder of my deeds welling up from the deep, unable to be forgotten this time. Eliza threw the tent over the bodies to hide the evidence, before tossing a large flat stone in front of me, her face a dark mask of utter hatred.
“Dig. Get it done.”
I obeyed, my soul crushed with the enormity of this world that could twist and turn on a pin head. After the pain, grief, suffering and violence of yesterday, which was followed by bonding, food and sleep... to go back to this, this... it was somehow a thousand times worse. I was the demon once more. I was the enemy.
As the dawn began to grow lighter, the mist lifting to reveal a sky that was blue in places and crystal clear, Eliza joined me in digging, using her hands to pull away earth that I had loosened. It was becoming a fine morning, a fitting contrast to the desolation of heart I currently felt.
I was trying desperately to remember the deed, hoping that I could somehow bring forward the fact that I was coerced into committing it somehow, but as details started to bleed through the filter of my blasted consciousness, some part of me spoke up the loudest and proclaimed what I had known for so long but had tried to push aside.
(You are sick.)
As the others in the car started to stir, Eliza shot me a cold look of warning. Her face seemed to soften slightly as she tried to control her anger but I knew it was for the old man and the girl's sake, not mine. We would act the part. The funeral was to go ahead, before the reckoning. I could have run, I could have overpowered her but... I didn't want to. I was chaining myself there, within my own punishment, a deserved punishment. I would not turn away. It was the very least I could do.
The graves were finished around an hour later, completed in silence by Eliza and I as Arthur, Ciaran and Juliet cooked and ate some breakfast. Juliet even spoke a few words, whispering softly and sparsely to Arthur as they sat together. I couldn't hear what was being said but then I didn't deserve to. I was hiding in their midst, burying their loved ones after turning them into some sort of horrible marionettes. I didn't deserve to be a party to any glimmer of happiness and hope that was growing despite my actions.
The graves were shallow and they were ragged but it would be more of a burial than anyone had received since this terror had first reared its rotting head. We gently laid them side by side, face down to hide the blood, before standing back. Eliza was cradling the shotgun now, in the show of keeping a defensive eye against the dead, yet I knew that was only half true. Still, I did not run. I did not fight. I did not take any pride in my staying, it was simply a fact.
Arthur stepped forwards, his face a stony mask as he looked down upon the dead. He glanced at Eliza, his soft wrinkled brow showing confusion as he pointed towards the bodies...
“Which... which one...”
Eliza bit her lip. Sorrow coursed through me, a sorrow I had no right to feel.
“The right, she's the one on the right,” said Eliza, coming to stand by Arthur, placing a hand on his sagging shoulder. His white hair shone in the crisp morning air, as his breath frosted a little in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, before bending down slowly and picking up a handful of the dirt. He paused for a few moments before scattering it on top of the sheet. His mouth was working, saying words under his breath, though I had no idea whether the words were for a God or for Dorothy. He needed Eliza's help to stand up, before brushing the dirt from his knees in a slow, deliberate way. He seemed to have aged by ten years since I had first met him.
“Is there anything else you want to say, before...?” asked Eliza gently. Arthur shook his head, his eyes all but dead.
“I said everything I could in that station and none of it helped. None of it.”
He walked away, shuffling slowly through the dead leaves. If I didn't already know he was alive, I could almost have believed he was one of the dead, moving slowly onwards with no purpose, no hopes, no dreams, just the sickening immediacy of want.
Eliza looked towards Juliet, who was staring down at the other grave. She walked over to the girl, before crouching down next to her. Juliet's face was twitching a little, as if she were trying to work out which of the many feelings that were running through her should be displayed. Eliza ran a hand over the girl’s tufty hair and I heard her telling the girl she could take as much time as she wanted.
“... you can say something if you want, or not. Whatever you need.”
The girl didn't move for a long time. When she did, she walked forwards and picked up a clod of earth before forcefully throwing it down onto the body.
“I hate you!” she screamed, her voice sending a few birds flying from the nearby trees. Eliza moved over to her and embraced her around the shoulders, whispering soothing words into her ears. Juliet lowered her voice but kept on talking, the words tumbling out of her.
“You said you'd protect me, then you died. They hurt me and you just sat there, not even looking at me. You said you'd protect me.” Her body was shaking, rigid, little fists held at her side as Eliza held on to her so tightly I thought the little girl would suffocate. They were both crying, sobs running throughout Eliza's body too. Ciaran – who until now had been standing stony faced with his hands in his pockets – started to walk forwards tentatively as if to comfort Juliet.
“Don't you dare come near her,” said Eliza, glaring at him viciously, pulling Juliet close. “Get away.”
Ciaran looked justifiably ashamed and took a couple of steps backwards again. He glanced at me. I was still stood to the side, arms sagging uselessly. I looked back in mute resignation. We couldn't do anything here except make things worse. This was the remains of humanity, a fractured, broken group, brought together and torn apart by the same unspeakable set of tragedies.
“Cover them up,” commanded Eliza, looking to Ciaran and I, as she continued to hold Juliet. As I picked up the stone to begin pulling the earth back into place, I spotted Arthur returning through the leaves, showing more life, more purpose. He reached out and placed a hand on Juliet's shoulder, showing a solidarity with her dark mix of emotions. Yes, this group was broken but it was not without the capacity to heal.
We marked the two graves with crossed branches tied with the guide ropes, used despite Eliza's disgust at the role they had previously played in the diorama of the dead, as there was nothing else to hand. I placed the photograph from the police station on Hannah's grave, as it was the least I could do to try and make amends, though as soon as she saw it Juliet ran forward and claimed it for herself, running back to the car cradling it as if it was an injured bird. I felt guilt weigh me down again as I realised I should have given it to her immediately. I truly had no idea how to function within society. Perhaps I had always been an outcast, even before I arrived at that island...
It was not long afterwards that Eliza told the others, as coolly as she could, that she and I were heading into the forest to look for some wildlife or other source of food for the onward journey. She was still carrying the shotgun loosely in the crook of her arm as she nodded her head towards the trees. I followed without a word, ashamed to even look back.
We walked for several minutes, her in the lead and me following close behind, picking our way through ferns and grasses, up ridges and down into leaf filled dips, through tangles of roots and brackish puddles. She never looked back, never checked if I was following, even though I was sure she was listening for some sign of my trying to escape, looking for a reason to shoot and finally be rid of me.
As we walked, the weather once again began to turn. A chill wind swept down, starting to drive raindrops at us as we clambered up a ridge, moving up through the tree line, until finally we arrived at the top of a small hillock. It was bare and exposed, putting me in mind of a bald man's head, a patch of blasted earth dotted with scrawny tufts of grass. The rain was thundering down now, starting to soak both of us to the core.
“Shouldn't we go back?” I said, shivering involuntarily.
“No, not us, not ever, not together,” she replied, holding the gun towards me. Rain dripped from its barrel, leaving rainbow puddles of gun oil on the ground. “This is a conversation I've wanted to have for a long time. Maybe if we had already had it then what you did last night may not have happened,” she said coldly. The rain was thundering so hard I was struggling to hear her words.
I stayed silent as she scrutinised my eyes, looking for something in my features though I had no idea what.
“Aren't you going to say anything?” she asked finally. “Don't you know what this is about?”
(Yes.) “No,” I said instantly, without thinking, aware that it was the wrong answer. She was here to discuss my sickness, our sickness, my twisted relationship with the other three. Something was growing in my mind, a quick white hot thought that flashed from temple to temple.
“You do, I can see it,” she said, her eyes showing more wrinkles than usual as she squinted in the storm. Her hair was slick to her head, pressed down by the water.
“It's about those three, the three that follow you, or that you follow... I don't know how it works. I tried the softly-softly approach but you don't get any better, never any better.”
“She certainly doesn't have a problem with confrontation does she?” said Marcus, standing behind Eliza, flexing his hands behind her neck. The coat of skin that he was wearing dripped blood that mixed with the rain, spreading red across the dome of the hillock. I spotted Cato crawling out from behind a fern in the tree line, skittering sideways like a crab. The disease had returned. I felt my mind starting to fall away. I couldn't stop them. (Are you sure?)
“She's trouble, always has been, always will be,” said the tiny man, before blowing on his thumb and growing to his usual height in a heartbeat. The rain was soaking them also, dripping off their bodies or maybe through their bodies... what was I seeing? I turned my head to look for Perdita, the final player in the act...
“Oh, she's here, don't worry,” said Marcus. “She's never far away.”
“You did this...” I said under my breath. Eliza hung her head, shaking it with what looked like bitter disappointment.
“Of course we did, Cato and I both answer to her.” said Marcus, almost apologetically. “She wanted us to point the way but you didn't want to talk to us, to your family. We had to send you a message...”
“Look at me, just me!” yelled Eliza, waving the shotgun in front of my face. She pushed it into my chest painfully. At this range, I doubted the stab vest would do anything to help me. The rain was so heavy now I was almost breathing it in, having to spit it away from my face. It stung my eyes painfully as it dripped down my features.
“There is no way this can carry on,” she said, almost having to shout to make herself heard. Marcus came to stand next to her, sliding the coat off and letting it fall to the ground in a ragged heap, leaving his torso bare. As I looked, the coat seemed to sprout seven or eight small arms, dragging itself away across the earth. I shook my head to clear the sickening image.
“No? You disagree?” said Eliza, her lip curling in anger. “After what you did to the bodies of those poor women, you think you can stay with us?”
“She's going to do you in,” said Marcus, his voice a conspiratorial whisper that somehow cut through the sound of the rain to be perfectly audible.
“No,” I said, my eyes widening as I saw Marcus raising his hands towards her throat. I started to raise mine too, ready to intervene. Eliza placed the shotgun to my eye level.
“Don't force me, please,” she said, her eyes pleading with me, as if I could stop it. (You can.)
“Eliza, what can I do?” I asked, almost wailing. It was a yell of pure childish helplessness. Whatever they were, however they had come about, their deeds were real. The results of their actions were terrifying. The fact that only I could see them and yet do nothing to stop them was a burden fit to crush me. (You can.)
“I don't know, I don't... I've tried to think of a way to solve this since the station, I’ve run it over and over in my head but I don't know, I just can't think of a solution,” she continued, her anger dissolving in the deluge.
She lowered the gun, the raindrops running together in rivulets down her cheeks. Her eyes were red tinged, and though the rain made it impossible to be certain, I'm sure she was crying.
“You tell me, doctor. Is there anywhere we can go from here that won't end in death?”
“There is violence in the air, hot and heavy. She's dead, or you are,” said Cato, running up my arm and crouching on my shoulder. “Marcus will save you, don't worry. It's his reason for being. He'll twist her neck until it pops...”
Marcus grunted, black hairs bursting from his skin, his face, shoulders, back, arms, all in a cloud of red droplets, spraying blood. His bellow seemed to echo around the woods as he reached for Eliza with inhuman speed.
“No!” I yelled, lunging for his arms. Eliza tried to bring the shotgun up but I knocked her aside. She fell sideways, slipping on the mud as I bull-rushed into Marcus, smashing him backwards. I drove and drove, until he span away into the darkness at the side of the hill, tumbling down between the trees, his body smashing from trunk to trunk as he fell. I tried to halt my momentum but I had put too much into my attack. My boot slipped on a slick tree root and I tumbled after him, hitting my shoulder and head on the trunk of a tree, fern cracking... rain... slip... taste of dirt... blood... black...
I remembered pressing my face, feeling stickiness, rubbing the tackiness between my fingers in dazed fascination. My body shook with tremors but it took a while before I realised that I was freezing. Despite the cold my shoulder felt as if it were burning, even though I couldn't connect the movement of my hand with the pain, until a fresh wave of agony flashed across my skull and my eyes flickered open.
The rain was beating a staccato on my body, pushing me into the mud with each raindrop. I craned my neck forwards a little, seeing a few dead leaves on my body. As I raised my hand I saw blood, slowly being washed from my palm as I held it up. I tried to move again but my shoulder protested as I tried to roll left. I fell back, gasping a little, my legs shifting uselessly, sliding over the wet ground. When I felt ready, I tried rolling to my right, managing to get half way before needing a moment's rest, my head falling sideways onto the ground again. Looking back I could see water already pooling in the depression where I had previously lain. I tilted my head slightly to look up the slope, seeing a mass of roots and ferns, their leaves glistening and bobbing in the rainfall.
I pulled my arm around slowly but as I pressed the bloody palm into the earth the pain in my left shoulder again flared up, so I had to leave it to hang uselessly as I pushed myself up using only my right arm, eventually managing to tuck my knees up under me before standing up in a series of slow, methodical steps.
When I was finally on my feet and able to look around, the memory of how I had arrived flashed across my mind's eye. I looked up. The sky visible through the branches above was a subdued and sombre grey but I had no idea whether it was from the storm clouds or the retreat of daylight. Maybe the leaves had fallen with me as I had crashed down the slope or maybe they had fallen on my body over the course of hours. I checked my left shoulder and face with my right hand, also moving my left arm to check the range of motion available. I seemed to have broken my collarbone in the fall, also gaining a large cut in my scalp that had bled quite vigorously, as they always did due to the thinness of the skin and amount of blood vessels.
I took one or two tentative steps but my legs seemed to be relatively fine, if stiff and lethargic from the cold.
I had no way of knowing which way to go but away from the slope seemed the most likely. The rain made hearing most other sounds impossible, so I had no way of registering any slowly shuffling footsteps if the dead were going to choose to find me. I wasn't sure I even cared anyway. I was just walking, no obvious aim or direction. Eliza was... where? I had no idea. Even if I did, would she care where I was?
I skidded down a small slope towards a stream, my boots splashing into the rippling water. I sat down for a moment to catch my breath, before dipping my hands in and drinking. It was quite dirty, mud washed with rainwater into a gulley, yet I was so thirsty that I drank until I felt fit to burst before lying back to recover my strength a little. When I felt ready it still took a while for me to pull myself up the other side, pushing with my legs as best I could whilst trying to negotiate some slippery roots one handed. Beyond the lip of the bank the trees continued, with no paths visible through the brambles and ferns to guide my way. I moved onwards, as it was my only option apart from lying still and waiting to die, which had its own appeal admittedly. I was worse off here, right here and now, than I had been on the island. The depressing nature of that thought made it very hard to continue, and yet I did continue for some reason.
My relationship with Eliza had been brief, fiery and complicated. Threat. Forgiveness. Trust given and trust betrayed. Was that how all relationships were? I hadn't felt I'd even had the time to work out where we stood, it was just one thing rolling into another, no time to think, just action leading to reaction, to reaction, to reaction...
A strip of grey had begun to replace the darkness that clung between the trees ahead and after a few more minutes I finally emerged from the forest to find a wire fence crawling with bind weed and beyond it a road going from left to right. On the other side of the road there was a high grassy ridge stretching in both directions towards more trees. The tarmac was wet, dull and grey, with bits breaking off at the edges as it encroached on the soft wooded earth, but it was a welcome sight nonetheless. It was a line, a purpose.
After a few failed and painful missteps, I managed to negotiate the fence, tumbling over onto the roadside. As I glanced from left to right, both ways looked equally dark and full of unknown promise. I decided to go right, as it was slightly down hill and my legs were suffering from the uneven ground I had been covering. My feet were also starting to complain with every step, the water that filled my boots swelling the skin of my soles uncomfortably.
I followed the road at an agonizingly slow pace as I couldn't push myself to go any faster. I eventually spotted a red hatchback at the side of the road next to the wood on my right, collapsed into a ditch with the bonnet wrapped around a tree. The windscreen was a fractal mess, obscuring details within, so I turned to make my way towards it, curiosity getting the better of me. As I got nearer, I could see the drying blood through the web of cracks on both the door windows and the windscreen and it wasn't long before I heard the low moan of a corpse.
Whether it was the pain or not I don't know but for some reason I didn't have an ounce of panic or fear left, as if it had drained out of me along with the blood from my head. I continued walking towards the car, seeing that the driver's door had once been opened but had fallen back, pressing on the leg of the corpse at the wheel. I circled around behind it curiously, looking through the gap to see a festering mess, held in place by the seat belt that hadn't saved whoever it had been from dying. A deflated air bag was draped over the corpse's lap, stained with the blood that had dripped from the wounds on its head and face. They may have been inflicted before the crash, before the poor soul had even started driving. Perhaps they had been trying desperately to escape their fate when blood had fallen into their eye from a bite, causing them to miss the turn and tumble off the road into the tree. Had they died instantly? Had someone else opened this door to find the corpse waiting? Or had they been able to open the door a little but not had the strength to push it against the gravity holding the car in the ditch, as it fell again and again on their leg, before they finally died of their wounds? Or had the dead creature that now lay where the person had died managed to somehow open the door of its own accord in the days and weeks it had been here? There was no way of knowing. The story was lost, blood in the rain. No one knew or cared, not even I, not any more. I felt numb, and not just physically.
Its arms were trying to reach me as it twisted in its seat but the belt was still holding firm. I looked over the body to see the glove compartment was open, with one or two chocolate bars lying on a roadmap. It was better than nothing. I circled around the back of the car, finding the boot loaded with bags and survival equipment, clothes and photo albums, and even a cage holding the stiff remains of a bird that had long ago perished as its former owner had gnashed and wailed in the front seat. No return from the dead for the animal kingdom, not yet. There was also two petrol cans, fuel that I could give to Eliza as some sort of peace offering... no, it was a foolish notion. I had broken that bond irrevocably.
I opened the passenger seat door and the body leaned over hungrily, fingers twisting and searching in the air for me. I was unconcerned, picking up the chocolate bars and the map and swatting the hands away before moving around to the back seat, opening the door and sitting down with my back to the corpse and unfolding the map onto my lap. The dead driver wailed as it tried to reach over its own shoulder awkwardly to get at me.
“Hungry?” I asked as I glanced over to look, seeing the hands a good foot away from me even as it strained with all its remaining ragged muscles. It moaned in reply, seemingly excited by the sound of my voice.
“Here you go,” I said, opening one of the chocolate bars and dangling it in front of the corpse's reaching fingers. It ignored it, still trying to get at me, as if it could pull me towards it by tethering the air around me.
“Suit yourself,” I finished, taking a bite out of the bar and looking down at my lap.
The red crayon lines that covered the map stood out vividly, like fresh cuts in flesh. I didn't even have enough energy to register surprise. I had thought my map was still at the station, forgotten amongst my old clothes... and maybe it was still there. Maybe there were many maps. Maybe all maps were pulling me back towards the hole that beckoned me, even glowing a little at the edges as I spotted it. I was close now, very close. The lines were all converging, seeming to move in front of my eyes like meal worms. The cross that marked where I was flickered and rippled as I watched.
“Where do you think I'm going?” I asked, turning to the dead in the front seat. It still reached for me, dripping ichor from its fingertips. Even though I couldn't even be sure if it had been a man or a woman and despite the fact that it hungered for my exhausted flesh, at this moment it was the closest thing to a friend that I had. There was no reply save a continued groaning but as I glanced past the snapping jaws and rotting skull I looked up the hillside to see a tree, long dead with most of its branches gone, with the remains of a swing slowly swinging in the breeze, the seat hanging forlornly off the single remaining rope. A rush of familiarity came over me. I had been here before, many times. I could remember seeing the swing slowly falling into disrepair over the course of years, one side having snapped during a high wind.
I got out of the car, walked to the centre of the road and looked around, left to right, scrutinising the landscape through the veil of rain. Yes, this was all familiar. As I closed my eyes to concentrate, more details somehow surfaced from my long dormant memory. They had been hiding under ice that was now beginning to crack, allowing them to float to the surface.
The cross on the map was my location, the route was my route and I knew, somehow I now knew that around that corner to the right, beyond where this road joined a larger road, there lay my destination.
I walked back towards the car to retrieve the map but it was gone, the half eaten chocolate bar sitting alone on the seat that was becoming sodden in the rain. Maybe it had never been there. Of course, I didn't need the map, not any more. I didn't need outside directions, pointers, signs. Part of me thought about searching through the boot of the car and picking out some useful things, but then... what did I need? I had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Everyone I had met, I had driven away despite my best efforts. The harbour, the farmhouse, the town, the woods, the fall... it had all been for this, to bring me here.
I started walking, my feet splashing through the rainwater as the road rushed to meet me. Before I knew why, I was running, sprinting as fast as my shattered body could manage. Rain whipped into my eyes, forcing me to close them. It didn't matter, I knew this route. My body moved, pain shaking throughout it with each thundering stab of my foot onto the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I was at the junction. Ahead of me lay a wide expanse of empty road, leading to two large black painted metal gates, hanging wide open either side of a driveway. There were signs next to both sides of the gate that stated this was the Elucido Institute, though I didn't need to read them to know that the driveway led to a hospital. A centre of healing. A centre of death.
All three were stood between the gates, waiting for me. Perdita was an adult now, crisp and clean in her sky blue uniform, the rain not touching her but simply beading and falling from her body in crystalline marbles. Her chestnut hair was hanging loosely about her shoulders, framing her sharp features. She held Marcus and Cato by their wrists as they struggled and screamed whilst trying to get away. The woman was as rigid and cold as a statue and she would not be denied. (Cannot be denied.)
I crossed the road slowly. Perdita pulled the other two aside to let me pass. I walked a little way ahead before looking back. The unearthly woman threw the other two towards me where they tumbled and collapsed onto the driveway, before turning and pulling the huge iron gates closed with a merest flick of her wrist. It was as if we were pets, tossed into a cage, impotent and with little idea of what was to come. When she turned back to face me, her mouth was wide, her jaw surely dislocated to be in such a position. It was dark inside, no sign of tongue or teeth, simply infinity, the depths of loss. Marcus and Cato struggled to their feet, moving close to me in collective fear. That was when she spoke, though not using her gaping mouth. She spoke with some other force as her voice tore through the sky and cut into my soul.
“There are only two outcomes for a truly sick patient, recovery or death.”
She pointed past us. I followed her finger, spotting a dark shape around fifty metres away, just visible through the lashing rain. It was large and imposing, a vast modern structure that jutted out of the gloom at the end of the driveway. As with everywhere now, there was no electricity. It felt strange to see such a large building without lights, especially one that was so used to continuous habitation. It was as if I knew instinctively how this building should look and how it usually looked, yet now it truly had the appearance of having been contaminated, becoming rotten and dead.
The sky was so dark now that it must have been approaching night again. I had never seen so much rain, cold heavy streaks lancing down, hurting where they struck my head, soaking my hair and dripping down my neck. Marcus walked to my left, trudging with slow, tired strides, head down, spines hanging like the tentacles of a dead octopus. Cato on the other hand was a whirling dervish of nervous fear, skipping from foot to foot as his size fluctuated wildly. He was muttering platitudes to himself to try and calm down but it was clearly not having the desired effect.
It was the longest walk I had ever undertaken. Every step of the way, she was behind us, pushing us forwards with her sheer presence. Though I had sprinted the last leg of the journey here, now I had crossed the point of no return I would have given anything to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Even though they were my family were Marcus and Cato worth dying for?
The walls of the building rose above me as we picked our way through ambulances, some with their doors hanging open and blood stained equipment, beds and sheets spilling out onto the car park in front. The heavy rainfall over the past few days had filled the drains to the point where they were overflowing, spilling out and spreading in waves over the concrete. The strangest thing was the absence of dead outside but that was soon explained when we came closer to the entrance. The doors were automatic but shut tight, keeping the dead inside captive as they scraped their gory hands on the already blood soaked glass. There were so many, maybe hundreds, green and white, black and putrid, blood and bone and gristle. Doctors and nurses, patients, porters, all job roles forgotten, irrelevant. Now that they had spotted fresh meat they were building up into a frenzy, slamming their hands against the doors, the sheer weight of numbers threatening to shatter them. Clawing, biting, crawling, wailing.
I almost fell backwards at the sight, knocking into a corpse behind me that had risen up from underneath a bloody sheet which still clung to its rubbery bloated form. It tried to throw its arms around me but Marcus was at my side and still had enough power and wherewithal to kick it away hard, sending it tumbling into the concrete. Cato skittered behind a toppled wheelchair as Marcus reached into the back of an open ambulance, pulled out a fire extinguisher and strode over to the still floundering corpse, smashing the makeshift weapon down several times until the thing's head was a spreading stain, being washed away by the water from the drains. The hospital had obviously been sealed in the vain attempt to halt the spread of the disease but they had failed miserably, creating instead a house of rotten bodies, clawing at each other until tissue damage and decomposition felled them.
“Where are we supposed to go now?” I asked Cato, crouching behind the nearest ambulance in the hope that it would calm the horde, pulling Marcus down with him. “This place is suicide.”
(Recovery or death.)
“What did you say?” I whispered, a band of pain running from my neck to my forehead, a strange wave of discomfort I had never felt before.
“I said that this place is suicide!” shrieked Cato. “We can't leave. Perdita will hold us here, pushing us inwards. See, she's almost here now.”
The girl, now a woman, was walking carefully and purposefully up the drive, her white shoes parting the drainage water, leaving a clear path in front of her. As she entered the car park she turned quickly towards me, standing watching me from afar, mouth agape. The uniform... I could tell now that it was a doctor's scrubs: blue fabric, with the name badge indistinguishable at this distance. Her steely grey eyes started to roll back in her head as her shoulders started to twitch. She started to involuntarily snap her jaws, as if regressing into some sort of beast. Her eyes were... gone? There was nothing there, not even blood, just an unfathomable Stygian abyss.
“Name me.”
The command came violently, words thundering through my body.
As she started to again walk towards me, purposeful, powerful, I knew she had brought me here for this. The name badge came into view but all I could focus on was the mouth, the eyes, the emptiness. Perdita was finally hungry.