Infection Z 3 (9 page)

T
he winding dirt
track was long and spiralled on for miles, and Hayden felt like eyes were watching him every inch of the way.

Invisible eyes peeking through the trees. Rustling movement. Growling.

“Is it just me or is this place completely and utterly … well, off?” he asked.

Holly sat by Hayden’s side, Sarah now manoeuvring the golf buggy. He’d had difficulty steering it. Always had been shit when it came to vehicles. First realised that back at the dodgems at Blackpool Pleasure Beach many a year ago.

She smiled. “It’s empty and you’re complaining about it seeming ‘off’. Trust really isn’t your strong point, is it?”

“If you’d seen the things I’ve seen, it wouldn’t be yours either.” He diverted his gaze away from Holly. He didn’t want her to catch him looking at her with accusation and curiosity. He didn’t want her to see the glimmer of truth in his eyes—the truth of what he’d done to Gary. Leaving him behind, unconscious, to die in the way he had.

“He was hardly the most trustful bloke
before
he saw the shit he talks about,” Sarah said, steering the vehicle around a sharp curve in the road.

“Oh yeah?” Holly laughed. “How did you guys meet anyway?”

“Hayden here was—”

“That’s a story for another time,” Hayden interjected. He felt his cheeks heating up at the memory of being stood at the side of his old road. The desperation and the fear inside him as Sarah shouted at him to get into the back of the van. He thought about how hopeless he’d felt, how hopeless he must’ve looked. It wasn’t an image he wanted Holly to see, not right now. “How far d’you think ’til we hit the roads again anyway?”

Sarah took another turn. “Your guess is as good as mine. Tell you what, this place is weird. The fuck’s that thing there?”

Hayden looked where she was pointing. Some kind of cabin beside a lake. The lake looked artificial, like it had been dug up recently. Behind it, a tall, sturdy-looking metal fence to keep whatever was on the other side out of here.

“Some kind of new development?” Holly asked.

Hayden thought back to the state of the bodies he’d seen recently. To the hole torn in the side of the fence near where they found the buggy. And of the traps. Why would there be traps in the woods? What was so dangerous that it required capturing?

“I know something happened. Back there. With—with Gary.”

The words from the left made Hayden’s face turn cold. He looked to his side. Saw Holly with her head down. She was holding her dry hands together, fumbling and scratching at them.

“What … I don’t …”

“I can see that look on your face,” Holly whispered. “I can see that look because I’ve had that look on my face before, too. You changed when you walked out of those woods. Something on your face. You can tell me. If there’s … if you have a secret, you can tell me.”

Hayden’s mouth dried out completely. He looked at Sarah, who fast shifted her gaze away like she was pretending not to look. Hayden cleared his throat. He couldn’t be the one in the spotlight here. “Stuck in a golf buggy with a woman who claims she’s been bitten and hasn’t turned, and also claims she knows a safe place in Holyhead. And I’m the one who’s being scrutinised?”

“Hey,” Holly said. “We had this discussion. We’ve talked about honesty and trust and—”

Sarah coughed.

“And I’m allowed my reservations, like you said,” Hayden said. “I just don’t agree with you tearing apart my—”

“I’m not tearing a thing apart. I’m simply—”

Sarah coughed.

“I know what you’re trying to—”

And then the golf buggy veered off the dirt track.

When Hayden realised what was happening, it was already too late.

He looked at Sarah as the golf buggy veered towards the trees. She was lying with her head on the steering wheel. Her arms had gone limp and her eyes were closed.

Blood oozed from her nostrils.

Hayden lunged for the steering wheel but before he could reach it, he heard the metal buggy crack and his body flew out of the side of the vehicle.

He crashed into the muddy ground. Tumbled and tumbled on his side, branches scratching his cheeks, the taste of blood building up in his mouth. He tried to stop his roll but it was pointless. He was going too fast. Speeding down the hill towards a stream. If he didn’t stop soon, his head would crack on the rocks and it would be over, everything would be over.

He stuck his fingers into the mud. Felt it slip away under his grip. He had no idea where Holly or Sarah were but he could hear movement, feel their eyes on him.

He stuck his fingers into the ground again, shifted all his weight into the earth.

With a finger-snapping jolt, he stopped.

He caught his breath. The sounds of the trees rustling in the wind surrounded him. The taste of blood was strong now. His ears rang like a gun had fired either side of them.

He closed his eyes, squeezed them together, tried to balance himself.

Then he remembered: Sarah.

The look on her face. Blood dripping down from her nose. The cough. And then the unconsciousness.

And then he remembered little Tim. Little Tim, who didn’t have a sign of a bite wound on his body, and went on to pass the virus to his mum.

The panic on Sarah’s face when she’d first found Tim’s body. The blood on her hands.

Matt’s words etched in blood:
KAREN NOT BIT HES AIRBOURNE TIM AIR—

He eased his tender body around in the direction of the rustling, the movement, and he saw it.

A zombie wearing a bloodied blue uniform just like the man who had been butchered back where they’d found the golf buggy.

It was marching in Hayden’s direction. Reaching its long, sharp fingers out, the bones peeking through the gnawed-down tips.

Hayden tensed his body. Tried to lift himself up, but his ribs stung, his head ached.

The zombie ran. Ten metres away. Nine metres. Soon, it’d be upon him. He’d be a goner. It’d be over. It’d—

Something shifted in the right of his vision.

It happened in a blur. A dreamlike blur that Hayden couldn’t comprehend—and probably never would.

Something jumped out and landed on the zombie.

Something big. Golden.

An animal.

It knocked the zombie to the ground. Hayden heard its neck crunch as the beast’s paw pressed into it. He saw the saliva dribble from the corners of the beast’s mouth, saw it go in to bite the zombie with its piercing sharp teeth.

And then he saw it turn away. Grunt in dissatisfaction, like Hayden might if he smelled some off milk.

It lifted its head—its huge, gorgeous head—and only then did Hayden truly understand what he was looking at.

It was the undeniable face of a lion. A lion with a beautiful golden mane. Through its fur, Hayden could see its ribs.

The lion looked at Hayden with its big, brown eyes.

Stared at him. Sniffed the air.

“Holy shit.” Holly’s voice from somewhere behind. “Is that …”

Hayden didn’t hear the rest of what Holly had to say.

Blood-laced drool dripped from the hungry lion’s mouth.

The beast stepped towards him.

T
he last time
Hayden stared a lion in the eye was when he was back in high school on a school trip to Knowsley Safari Park. He remembered his coach driving past the crowd of three, four lions, all lying down, all looking back at him. He remembered the fear he felt. The realisation that, if they wanted to, those beasts could wander over to the school coach and butcher everyone inside. Every last one of them.

Except that day, he remembered the tour guide insisting the lions were well fed. That they weren’t hungry. And that they were actually rather timid of vehicles.

Today, over a decade later, Hayden wasn’t guarded by the protection of a vehicle.

He wasn’t trapped behind glass, observing from a distance.

And the lion didn’t look well-fed.

He wanted to move away. Wanted to drag himself up the grassy ridge, back towards the dirt track. But as he stared at this lion—saw its ribs poking out of its matted fur, saw blood from the creature dripping down its mane—all he could do was stay put. Stare into its eyes. Stare into its eyes and hope to God it turned the fuck away.

Because if it didn’t, he was screwed.

He was dead.

He thought back to the man they’d found in the woods. The way his body had been torn apart. The blue uniform he’d been wearing, and it all just clicked. The buggy. This was a safari park. Some kind of safari park.

And it was filled with a bucketload of starving animals.

The lion grunted as it stared at Hayden. Breathed heavily. Beautiful but terrifying, no doubt about that. And lying in the mud, staring at this lion, it felt like every other single sense evaded Hayden. A sense of where he was. Of who was around him. Of what he was going to do.

All he knew was that he had to get away.

He had to get away from this lion.

Somehow, he had to get away.

He heard a wince. Heard movement behind him to his right.

And a cough.

The lion turned. Looked in the direction of the cough, too.

Sarah.

Shit. Sarah. Regaining consciousness. She couldn’t make a sound. Not now. Not—

The lion put one foot in front of the other, started to move.

Hayden’s insides turned to mush. He knew right then that he had to move. That there was nothing else he could do. No way he could just stay put, no way he could hope the lion would turn away, disappear into the woods.

He had to run.

He had to get to Sarah, to Holly—wherever the hell she’d gone.

He had to get away.

He took a deep breath of the cool air, a smell of decomposition lingering.

He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his forehead.

You can do this, Hayden.

You can fucking do this.

He waited until the lion made another step. Another step towards Sarah, another step up the hill.

Then he turned around and he ran.

He didn’t look back as he clambered up the hill, splashing around in the mud, trying to keep his balance. He just powered on. Saw Sarah. Saw her lying on the dirt beside the broken remains of the buggy. Holly was nowhere to be seen. She’d done a runner. Fuck. She could’ve helped but she’d done some kind of runner. He knew she wasn’t to be trusted. Knew he had to keep an eye on her.

But shit.

He had other things to worry about right now.

He stuck his fingers in the mud and dragged himself up the side of the hill. His feet slipped with every step, and behind him he could hear the lion growling, hear its huge paws patting through the mud.

He imagined its teeth. Imagined it opening its cavernous mouth and closing in on Hayden. Ripping him to shreds, just like it had the man they found in the woods; just like it had all those other bodies they’d found in the woods.

He kept on running.

Still alive.

Still staring at Sarah, who looked out of it, grimacing in pain. Her arm looked dislocated, snapped out of its socket. Blood dripped from her nostrils.

But she was alive.

Just like Hayden, she was alive.

He heard the lion roar and he tasted sick at the back of his throat, felt his stomach rise into his chest, his heart pounding and pounding and pounding. But on he went. On he crawled through the mud. On he climbed towards Sarah. Because that’s what he had to do—climb. Climb through the mud, one step at a time.

Deep breaths.

Keep his cool.

Keep his—

“Hey!”

He heard the voice above. Over to his left.

A familiar voice.

Holly’s voice.

Hayden chanced a look and saw that Holly was holding a gun. Pointing it shakily at the lion. Fear all over her face.

But she was standing her ground.

Standing her ground as Hayden got closer to Sarah.

Got closer to helping her. Closer to saving her.

He didn’t look over his shoulder. Couldn’t let himself. Because he could tell from the fear on Holly’s face that the lion was close. That it was still chasing him. That—

He felt his boot slip.

Felt the soft muddy ground give way underneath him.

And he fell face flat into the soil.

He scrambled to pull himself up as mud filled his eyes, as the bitter earthy taste engulfed his mouth. This was it. This was the moment the lion caught up with him. The moment this surreal fucking turn of events came to a conclusion. The moment it tore him apart—tore Sarah apart and put an end to both of them, piece by piece.

Holly had to fire the gun.

He didn’t want to see a lion harmed, always stood against animal cruelty, but she just had to fire the gun.

He dragged himself up. Saw Holly still standing there, frozen. Still pointing the weapon. Sarah just a couple of metres away.

“Fire it!” Hayden shouted.

But she didn’t.

Holly just kept standing there. Frozen. Rigid. Hands shaking.

The rest of the weapons lying in the rucksack beside the overturned buddy.

Hayden rushed over to Sarah. Wrapped his arms around her and tried to lift her. She squealed when he pushed against her right side—when he hurt her dislocated shoulder.

“You—you have to get up,” Hayden said. “I’m sorry but you have to get up—”

A force.

A force slamming into Hayden’s back.

Smacking him deep into the mud, covering him with darkness.

Pressing down.

Pressing down hard.

He knew what it was. He knew what it was and he couldn’t feel hard done by. Because he’d left Gary behind. He’d knocked Gary out and left him to die in the woods. Didn’t matter if he’d made him unconscious. Didn’t matter at all. All that mattered was he’d played God with someone else’s life. He’d betrayed a companion.

And now he was going to pay for it.

Piece by agonising piece.

He searched the damp grass for something, anything.

Searched it for a rock. For something to hit the lion with. Something to bat it off.

Felt its sharp, uncut claws dig into his shoulder.

Its hot breath and slimy drool dripping all over his neck.

Its growl loud in his ears.

He searched.

Searched some more.

Then he felt something.

Felt something—the bag. The zip of the rucksack. The weapons rucksack.

He stuffed his fingers inside it, stuffed them in as far as he could stretch, as far as he could reach.

Desperate.

Determined.

And then he felt the tip of something sharp.

Felt the tip of something sharp nick his fingertips.

Grabbed it, as the lion pressed down harder, as its mane brushed against his neck.

Spun it around.

And swung it in the lion’s direction as hard as he could.

He wasn’t sure he’d had much success. Not at first. Because the lion was still pressing him down. Still holding him. Still breathing its rancid breath all over him.

And then he heard a whimper.

He heard a whimper and he felt hot blood and he pulled the blade away and stabbed it again.

Stabbed it and felt guilt, felt nothing but immeasurable guilt for what he was doing, as the lion cried, struggled.

Stabbed it and felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he fought off the hungry beast. The beast that was just trying to do the same as everyone else in this world—survive.

He stabbed it a third time and this time, the lion pulled away.

The weight shifted from Hayden’s body.

He turned over. Rolled over, every inch of his body feeling infinitely lighter.

He scurried back. Sat beside Sarah. Looked back at the lion.

He expected it to be dying. To be toppled over onto its side. To be looking up at Hayden with fear. With confusion.

But it wasn’t.

It was bleeding. Bleeding just between its ribs.

But it was standing.

It was alive.

It looked Hayden in his eyes, looked at him just as it had before, and then it turned away.

Turned away and limped off into the woods.

Into whatever fate awaited it.

Hayden put a hand around Sarah’s back. Heart still racing. Adrenaline so rich it made him want to puke. The smell of sweat strong.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s … let’s get you up.”

“Guys,” Holly said. “I … I’d hurry. If I were you. I’d hurry.”

It was then that Hayden heard the growl.

Heard the muffled cries.

He turned and looked into the woods, looked between the branches where the lion had disappeared.

Saw it on its side.

Saw a mass of zombies surrounding it.

Sticking their teeth inside it.

Ripping its beautiful golden fur away.

He felt his eyes sting with tears. Felt guilt. Felt shame for what he’d had to do. For the only thing he’d been able to do to survive.

But that guilt was short-lived.

That sadness was short-lived.

Because he heard another growl behind him, behind Holly.

Turned and saw a lioness standing in the middle of the dirt track.

Staring down at her king being torn to shreds.

Staring at Holly, at Sarah, at Hayden.

Growling.