Tide of souls, p.17
Tide of Souls, page 17
"Tomorrow. We'll scout west."
"Can I come?"
"Aye."
"Thank you."
"Just be careful."
No-one else could get shit-all out of Stiles. If she died, we'd know nothing. Always assuming there was anything to know in the first place.
If I was honest, that was why I didn't like him - apart from the obvious one of him being mad. I'm not comfortable around mental illness, can't handle the idea of it finding a home in me. I laugh at nutters out of fear - fear I might become one of them. Because I've come too close to it. So I laugh, because I'm still on the rails and they're not. Ugly but true.
But it wasn't just that.
It was Katja.
I was jealous.
We found survivors in nearby villages that had survived the flooding - Blacko, Roughlee, Downham. More often than not, we'd see the nightmares, lurking in the shallows. They didn't attack, just watched. We never had to fire a shot.
For the first time, an uneasy hope began to blossom. Perhaps they'd leave us alone.
After all, they were dead. And dead flesh rots. Tendons and ligaments parting, the skeleton falling apart. And bodies in water, salt water most of all, rot away fast.
If we could just wait them out. If we could just hold on long enough, then nature would do the job for us.
About a week after that first flight out, I was in the farmhouse front room, drinking with Mleczko and Chas. Billy sat by Mleczko - there was no shaking him, which got Mleczko ribbed unmercifully - while Jo and Chas sat together on the sofa, holding hands like a couple of kids. Nobody took the piss, and not only because Chas'd make their lives hell if they did. It was - never thought I'd say this about Chas Nixon - sweet. Good to see something going right.
Katja and Stiles were talking in their corner. I took a large swallow. Stupid to be jealous of Stiles anyway. She wasn't with him out of love.
Katja got up, left the room.
Mleczko nudged me. Stiles was coming over, hunched and moving stiffly, grimacing at the pain each movement brought. Poor bastard.
He had Katja. Lucky bastard.
Stop snivelling, Robbie.
"It isn't over."
I looked up at him. "What?"
He gestured round with a free hand. "You think it's all over. Don't you?"
"They think it's all over," Billy sniggered. "It is now."
I ignored him, and so did Stiles. He just stared at me. His eyes were incredibly bloodshot, the irises snared in red webs of tiny broken veins. Dad'd had had eyes like that.
"It hasn't started yet," said Stiles. "The Deep Brain. It's watching and waiting. The ocean. The voices. The souls. It's coming."
"What is?" I asked.
Stiles' eyes screwed shut, as if against a sudden jab of pain, lips peeling back from his clenched, yellowed teeth. Then he sucked in a breath and opened his eyes again. "It's coming, Sergeant," he said again, and then turned and limped back to his corner.
"What is?" I asked. He didn't answer. I stood up and shouted. "What fucking is?"
The whole room was silent. Movement at the corner of my eye; Katja, stood in the doorway, watching.
Stiles did not turn around. "Death," he said. "Death is coming."
Then he sat back down, picked up the bottle he'd been working on, and said no more.
Katja went over to him. I sat back down.
"Fucking lunatic," muttered Chas. Jo huddled closer to him, as if for warmth. It was the closest to frightened I'd seen her.
"Apeshit," Mleczko agreed.
"Yeah," Billy echoed, "apeshit."
"Yeah." I grunted.
I saw them sat together. I wanted to look away, but didn't.
He was holding her hand. And Katja... Katja wasn't just letting him hold her hand. Do you understand? She was squeezing his hand back, stroking the knuckles with her thumb. She was responding. Of course, it could have just been like a whore's kisses - faking it to please the customer.
But I could see how she looked at him. I could've handled pity. Even lust, hard to imagine though that was.
But this was something else. This was the look I'd wanted to see in her eyes when she looked at me.
She realised she was being watched. She looked up. I turned away before she met my eyes.
"I need some fucking air," I said, standing.
I went outside.
"You OK, Robbie?"
"Aye."
"Rob -"
"Chas, I'm fine."
I felt the cold wind on my face, breathed out. The clouds had broken briefly, letting moonlight gleam on the dark waters beyond. Scratching the surface, shedding no light on the depths. And all I could think was:
Death, Sergeant.
Death is coming.
Chapter Sixteen
The nightmares made a brief, vicious attack on Blacko a few days later. They struck in numbers, but they were driven off. If something was controlling them, it was new and slow when it came to tactics. Humans have been killing each other for years, on the other hand, so that gave us an advantage.
Almost too easy. Almost like a testing of our defences.
Parkes and Hendry tried, every day, almost religiously, to contact Windhoven, but there was only ever the hiss of static. I had to believe they were still out there. Had to.
Katja had been staying with Ged. He never put a foot wrong with her, she assured me. A widower. Better things to do. He'd sit up late into the night, cradling a photograph of his daughter, her boyfriend and their kid. She reckoned he liked having her round. Reminded her of his daughter. For some reason I didn't understand at the time, she didn't seem to like that.
Anyway, she moved in with Stiles. That's right. Into that filthy hole of a caravan. Not that it stayed filthy for very long. When she was done, the caravan was unrecognisable. Scrubbed clean.
And yes, I have to admit, that burned. But I turned away, blanked it out. And got on with my job. At such times, I was glad to be a soldier again.
"There's a location not far from here," said Hendry. "An army base, pretty new, but with landing facilities and some fuel supplies. We were told we could use it as a temporary stopover if we couldn't fly straight out to Windhoven."
"You didn't mention this before, Sir."
"We tried contacting them just before we flew out, but..."
"What?"
"They were being overrun. God knows how - they were on high ground, well-defended - they should've been able to hold off any attack, especially in the early stages."
"But they didn't?"
Hendry spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know the details. We got a few garbled messages, enough to tell us what was happening without saying how and why. Right then it didn't seem particularly important."
I nodded. "But the base itself?"
"Should be intact."
"And those things?"
"Again, no way to tell. All we can do is... go and take a look."
"What kind of supplies are we talking about?"
"Avgas for the Chinook. Plus army rations, medical supplies, weapons, ammunition..."
"Christmas come early, you mean."
"It's not far off, anyway," Lomax put in. "Christmas."
Jesus, he was right. Well, at least if I lived that long, I wouldn't be spending Christmas alone. I could thank the nightmares for that, if nothing else.
"What?" said Lomax.
I realised I was smiling. "Doesn't matter. Alright then. Let's go take a look."
The Chinook flew over Nelson; as we went we could see what was left of the town, the tops of taller buildings and a few of the higher-up streets poking clear of the water.
Another thing I noticed as we flew.
The waters were clearer.
They'd lost that shitten, stewed-tea look they'd had. Under them, we could see houses, buses and cars, streets.
It was, for the record, a weird fucking sight.
I was glad when the chopper veered away from it and homed in on a flat-topped hill nearby.
High fencing ringed the base. A watchtower. At one end the perimeter was partly submerged.
The compound itself was a cluster of unremarkable prefab buildings on a concrete floor. Probably still in its early stages.
We flew over a couple of times. No sign of life. On the other hand, if we kept flapping around overhead, then anything lurking in the water might notice. And I wasn't keen on having a welcoming committee when we touched down.
"What do you think?" asked Hendry.
I took a breath. "Let's chance it."
On board we had Joyce, Hassan, Parfitt and Akinbode, along with Lomax and Katja. Also a couple of villagers, Neil and Steve. 'Villagers' was probably the wrong term - they were both tourists who'd been trapped in Barley by the floods. Steve was in his forties and had had a potbelly, which had disappeared in the two weeks they'd been with us. He and his wife had been celebrating their anniversary with a hiking tour of the fells. Neil was in his late twenties, rangy and outdoorsy-looking. He'd been down for 'a spot of bird-watching'. Both could handle a gun, and carried hunting rifles.
"Alright," I said. "Our main priority's the Avgas, followed by medical supplies. We've already got guns and food, though extra supplies would be useful. We go after them later, if we've time and room. Clear?"
"Sarge."
Lomax pointed at one of the buildings. "That'll be the QM store. Pretty much everything we're looking for should be in there."
And what else, I wondered?
"Akinbode, you're on lookout. Lomax, Joyce - take the Gimpys. Neil, Katja, Steve - we're looking for fuel. Hassan, Parfitt - find the medical gear. Any sign of trouble, raise the alarm and fall back. Do not, repeat, not, engage unless absolutely necessary. I'll decide if we start a shooting match or not. Any questions?"
There were none.
"Right. Let's go."
Exactly what purpose the base'd been meant to serve even Hendry didn't know. A support base for the regional control centres, perhaps, although the floods hadn't been recognised as a major threat till only a few days before November 7th. This hadn't been built that quickly. Of course, there were any number of dangers the authorities could've had in mind, not least its own citizens.
We landed the Chinook broadside-on to the storehouse. Joyce manned the Gimpy in the rear doorway, aiming at the half-submerged end; Lomax covered the side of the compound opposite the storehouse with the other one. Akinbode stood by the cockpit with a Minimi, watching the far end.
The rest of us de-bussed, formed a perimeter. Neil and Steve'd been briefed on what to do, and they fell into step pretty well for civvies.
Wind moaned across the concrete.
"Sarge?" asked Parfitt.
"Go."
The door wasn't locked. I stepped back, rifle shouldered. Katja, Hassan and Parfitt followed suit. I motioned to Neil and Steve to pull the doors open.
Inside was dark silence. I moved forward to the doorway, sighting left and right, quarter-turning the sight to activate the night vision.
Rows of steel shelving and a big central aisle. Nothing moving.
"Clear. Parfitt, Katja - go."
They moved forward, rifles aimed. "Clear."
"OK. Get looking."
The Avgas was near the back; behind it was -
"Sarge! Check this out!"
Two more Landrovers. "Very nice, Parfitt. Shouldn't you be looking for the medical supplies?"
"Sorry, Sarge."
He found them; luckily they were very portable. Which freed him and Hassan up quickly for the next job - rolling drums of JP-4 Avgas on board the Chinook.
"Alright. Let's move."
"What about the other stuff, Sarge?"
There'd been Gimpys, SA80s, Minimis and a shedload of ammunition back there, not to mention that Landrover and at least one Mk19. "No room for it. We'll come back."
When we returned, everything seemed as we left it. A good sign.
The weapons were crated up, so we moved them out fast. Just as planned. All running smoothly. Thank you, oh God I don't believe in. Not a hitch.
"Sarge!" yelled Joyce.
Fuck.
Just outside the perimeter fence, up to its thighs in foul water, was one of the nightmares.
I threw the rifle to my shoulder and sighted. It didn't move. From the chopper I heard Joyce cocking the Gimpy. "Hold fire!" I yelled. If there were more, a shot could open up a whole new world of grief.
It wore the remains of an Army uniform; much of its face was eaten away. The jawbone yawned, almost unsupported, the cheeks hung like tattered flags, and half its nose was gone. But there was still flesh on its limbs, and the empty sockets of its eyes blazed green.
"Shit," I heard from behind me, followed by a rifle bolt snapping back.
"Hold fire, Parfitt."
As I watched, the water beside the first nightmare stirred and broke. A fretted scalp, clumps of skin and hair still clinging to the skull, broke the surface. Its face was greenish coloured - there seemed to be something furring it up - but otherwise more or less intact. Its eyes were whole, glowing like dusty bulbs, and I could even make out a moustache. It stood beside the first nightmare, a few short yards away, and watched us.
Another rose beside that, upper half canted sideways. Its face was badly torn, hanging loose off the bone on one side. It straightened up as it neared the fence. They all wore Army uniforms.
"Another round here!" Katja was aiming her M-14 round the side of the store. "In the water."
"I've got some too," Lomax called. "By the fence."
"Hold fire!" I shouted again.
"What the fuck?" said Parfitt.
I looked back at the three nightmares. Their eyes were... pulsing. The glow brightened to an unwavering blaze, faded, then brightened again. All in perfect sync.
"I've never seen this before," Katja called. "But I don't think it's good."
When was it ever? "Hold your fire!"
They stood there, eyes pulsing. Then it stopped.
A few seconds later they turned and sank back down into the water.
"Sarge?" Parfitt again. "What the fuck was that?"
"Fucked if I know," I said. "Let's get out of here."
Back at the farmhouse.
"We saw maybe a dozen, Chas. Not exactly an army."
"Yeah. But what if they've started inviting their mates?"
"Aye, I know. There's the rub."
But the Landrovers, more weapons... that grenade launcher, which we'd forgotten in the rush...
Chas shrugged. "No point doing the job if you don't take a risk now and then, is there?"
This time we circled the base twice, and saw nothing. Everything exactly as we left it.
"OK, let's move." Lomax and Joyce manning the Gimpys again. The rest of us were heading straight for the store.
"Let's go, let's go. Get the doors open."
Steve and Neil pulling the doors open. The darkness within.
The stench rushes out to meet us, and the green glow of eyes in the darkness.
And the dozens of leering, rotted faces.
And their outstretched, rotting hands.
Death, Sergeant.
Death is coming.
Parfitt's closest, doesn't stand a chance. Gets off one scream as they lunge forward, one biting into his face, two, three others falling on top. Can't get a clear shot. He's screaming. Blood spews out in a jet. The screaming stops.
Fall back and fire - me, Katja. Steve and Neil already hightailing it back to the chopper. A few go down.
"Go!"
Akinbode's Minimi firing, more of them coming out of the other buildings in the compound. They're fucking everywhere.
The Gimpys hammering. They're in the water at the far end.
Thinking as I run: they were waiting for us. They were fucking waiting for us.
A trap.
They set a fucking trap.
"Akinbode! Move your arse you bastard, now!"
Akinbode frozen, seeing the nightmares rushing in on our tail. Then he blinks and runs for the side door.
Too slow. One leaps on his back - two more throw themselves in.
Akinbode screaming.
Drawing the pistol. Firing. Three headshots. Three down. Akinbode scrambling up as -
"Down!"
Lomax, running in, firing his Sig-Sauer over my head. "Come on!"
More nightmares rushing inwards, teeth bared and arms reaching out. I blow the face off one, then I'm backpedalling.
"Akinbode! Get on the fucking Gimpy! We're leaving!"
He scrambles aboard the Chinook.
"Sarge!"
More of them rushing in, no time to aim, oh fuck -
Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat.
Joyce on the tail GPMG, raking the submerged end of the compound and the dead figures coming out of it. Three, four go down. Akinbode firing the door gun.
"Move move move! We are leaving! We are very fucking leaving!"
And then the kind of scream I never want to hear again.
"McTarn!"
Lomax on the ground. Pinned flat. Still alive, but already they've started eating him, tearing chunks off his hands, arms, legs, face. The look in his eyes, the fucking horror in his eyes.
I aim at Lomax. I see his eyes close.
And I fire.
"Robert!" Katja. "Come on!"
I run for the chopper. I look back.
Bad idea. Just ask Lot's wife.
The nightmares are still coming.
And shouldering through the crowd, a fresh one. Mangled, bloody. A hand, reaching out towards me. Two fingers missing.
The torn, ruined face, slack in death. The eye sockets empty and glowing. Clumsy. Shambling. Parfitt's jaws gape open. And he gives out the hissing snarl I've come to know so well.
"Aw fuck."
A hole appears in his forehead and the back of his head blows out.
Katja, lowering the M-14. "Come on!"
The Chinook's rotors thundering, beating at the air. Hands pull me aboard. We're lifting. Not even time to close the door.
The nightmares are running for the chopper. One jumps. In through the fucking door. Lands on its feet, rocking and swaying for balance.
