Purification (37 page)

‘I can’t just leave him out there…’

‘Wait,’ Emma snapped. She pushed her face against the window. She could see movement from the bottom of the pile of bodies. Armitage was still fighting. High above him Lawrence had moved the helicopter round so that the searchlight was bearing down on him directly. The sudden illumination caused many of the bodies still lurching towards the disturbance to turn and trip away in other directions.

Lying on his back on the cold, hard runway and struggling to breathe because of his tiredness and the choking, abhorrent smell, Armitage began to kick and punch out at the bodies on top of him. They felt hollow and cold and individually offered little resistance. He felt their decayed flesh dripping and dribbling over him and he could feel himself being soaked through by their vile discharge.

The more they fought, he found, the quicker they deteriorated. He rolled over onto his front and tried to push himself up off the ground. Still more of them were clinging onto his back. He had no idea how many of the grotesque things were hanging off him and he didn’t care. He managed somehow to scramble onto all fours and then pushed hard and stood upright and began to smash the bodies away like flies. With five or six of them already thrown to the ground he found that his torso was suddenly free again and the only bodies still holding on were those which clung onto his legs. He began to move forward again, his powerful strides dislodging more and more of the pitiful creatures until his legs were clear and he could run again. He battered more of the cadavers out of his path before reaching the side of the truck and slamming into it.

With one last groan of effort he reached up to the handle on the passenger’s door, yanked it open and hauled himself inside. He pulled it shut (severing a single arm that reached after him) and slid across the cab into the driver’s seat.

‘He’s in,’ cried Emma from the observation tower window. ‘Bloody hell, he’s done it.’

Suddenly sensing that a way out may have just been opened up for them, the three remaining survivors crowded together around the main door and waited for the truck to move. Lawrence watched events from the relative safety of the helicopter hanging in the air and continued to drench the scene with harsh, artificial light, giving Armitage some welcome illumination and a limited degree of protection.

Inside the truck Armitage was struggling. His eyes stinging from the smoke, he slumped forward over the steering wheel. Dripping with rancid blood and gore and soaked through with sweat, he fought to catch his breath and keep his tired mind focussed. He reached out to turn the key and start the engine but then stopped. His chest felt tight. He desperately needed oxygen but the deeper he breathed, the more smoke he inhaled and the worse the pain in his chest became. Beginning as an uncomfortable feeling like a localised stitch, it quickly became an uncontrollable searing, burning and ripping pain which started near his heart and which then seemed to spread out across the entire width of his torso. His fingers felt numb and were now tingling with pain. His feet felt heavy and he struggled to move them onto the pedals.

Armitage again tried to breathe slowly and deeply and did his best to ignore the constant distraction of countless bodies which clattered angrily against the sides of the truck.

Taking his time, he figured that the slower he moved, the more chance he’d have of getting the truck going. His outstretched fingers eventually made contact with the keys and he somehow managed to turn them and start the engine, pushing himself back into his seat with momentary relief and satisfaction as the truck rumbled into life.

Progress was short-lived, however, as another wave of debilitating pain spread quickly across his chest. Groaning with effort he forced himself to concentrate on getting back to the others. He began to move the truck forward and slowly turned the steering wheel to guide the heavy vehicle back towards the observation tower. Still illuminated by the incandescent light from the helicopter, the truck trundled towards the building, mowing down those bodies which foolishly dragged themselves into its path.

‘He’s coming,’ Cooper said, still watching through the gap between the doors. ‘Ready?’

Juliet and Emma nodded. Emma’s throat was dry and her legs felt weak with nerves. This was make or break and she knew it. Never mind the immediate danger they faced outside, what happened in the next few minutes would undoubtedly decide the direction and duration of the rest of her life.

‘What do we do?’ mumbled Juliet anxiously.

‘When I open the doors,’ Cooper replied, ‘you get yourself onto the truck. Doesn’t matter if you get in the front or back or if you’re left hanging onto the side, just get over to that bloody truck and hold onto it, okay?’

She nodded and was about to ask another question when Cooper threw the doors open. The blood-splattered prison truck ground to a sudden, lurching stop just a few metres ahead of them.

‘Move!’ he yelled. He grabbed hold of both women by the arm and dragged them forward, virtually throwing them out of the building. Bodies began to surge at them from every imaginable direction. Juliet half-ran and half-fell towards the back of the truck, managing somehow to jump up and yank the back door open. She pulled herself inside and then reached out for Emma who was fighting her way through a dense section of the rabid crowd. She forced herself to keep moving through the tide of rotting flesh which pushed against her and threatened to swallow her up.

It seemed that those bodies which had remained on the sidelines had suddenly sensed an increase in the level of their own physical danger and had forced themselves to move and attack before the survivors and their machines attacked them. What felt like thousands of cruel, bony hands reached out to grab hold of Emma. Unexpectedly her speed increased. Running into her at force from behind, Cooper shoved her towards the truck, wedged his hands under her arms and threw her up into the air. With her flailing hands stretched out in front of her she managed to grab hold of the back of the vehicle. Juliet was waiting. She caught hold of the scruff of the neck of Emma’s jacket and dragged her inside. The bodies were no match for Cooper’s controlled force. He powered through them and jumped up onto the back of the truck after the others. Hanging half-out of the open door he smashed his hand repeatedly on the vehicle’s metal side. The noise was more definite and controlled than the relentless battering coming from the bodies. Armitage knew it was his signal to move again.

Forcing himself to rise above the constant, agonising pain which still crippled him, he accelerated and turned and drove out towards the gaping hole in the airfield’s border fence.

‘You okay?’ Emma asked from inside the back of the truck.

‘Will be when we get to this bloody island,’ Cooper replied, still standing in the doorway and holding on tightly with every lurch and sway of the prison truck as it moved across the uneven ground. From every direction bodies turned and stumbled towards the powerful vehicle, some being smashed to the side, countless others being dragged beneath its wheels and crushed into the ground. Ignoring the bloody confusion unfolding all around them, Cooper looked up through the drifting smoke and watched with relief as the helicopter began to slowly follow them away from the buildings.

‘What do we do now?’ Juliet wondered innocently.

Before Cooper could answer the truck began to slow down.

‘Steve,’ he screamed at the top of his voice, ‘keep moving. For Christ’s sake, don’t stop here.’

The truck lurched forward again and accelerated for a few metres and then slowed down. The engine stalled as Armitage’s foot slipped off the clutch pedal, the sudden movement almost throwing Cooper off the back and into the baying crowds. In the cab the driver’s hands and feet felt like lead now and he could no longer make them do what he wanted them to. He knew that he couldn’t drive any further. The pain in his chest was unbearable.

‘What’s he doing?’ Emma asked pointlessly as the prison truck ground to a final halt. She ran deeper inside and began to bang on the inner walls. ‘Steve!’ she yelled.

‘Steve! What’s wrong…?’

They had stopped just a short distance from the downed section of fence. Even though the crowds were slightly less dense here than they were around the buildings, within seconds of the abrupt ending of the truck’s journey masses of rotting corpses were already battering against it’s exposed and undefended sides. Cooper kicked out at those which were unfortunate enough to stumble and trip nearest to him.

‘We need to get onto the roof,’ he said as he surveyed the desperate scene. From all directions hundreds of cadavers turned and began to move ominously towards them. The helicopter hovered overhead, it’s noise and light now attracting easily as many bodies as it repelled. Cooper looked down at the sea of swarming creatures in front of him and then glanced up at the helicopter again. ‘There’s no way he’ll be able to pick us up off the ground.’

Turning round he grabbed hold of Juliet and pulled her closer to the door.

‘What…?’ she stammered.

‘Roof,’ he snapped. He crouched down and cupped his hands for her to use as a foothold. Groaning with effort and pain he lifted her up. With nothing on the roof for her to hold onto she struggled to get a grip and pull herself up.

Cooper dug deep and shoved her a little higher and she managed to dig her elbows down and inch slowly forward.

He leant out of the truck and watched until her feet had disappeared over the top. Moments later her head reappeared over the edge.

‘Okay?’ Cooper asked.

‘Okay,’ Juliet replied, forcing herself to look anywhere but down into the mass of rotting faces which stared back at her.

Emma was next. With the nearest bodies just inches away from grabbing hold of him, Cooper supported her relatively slight weight until Juliet had caught hold of her hands from above and had pulled her up onto the roof.

Cooper then turned and scrambled up himself, using the door at the back of the truck to push himself up.

Breathlessly the three survivors stood together on top of the truck. Emma looked down at the relentless crowd of decayed creatures below her. Their anger and ferocity seemed to increase as Lawrence lowered the helicopter down.

‘Get in,’ Cooper shouted, having to yell to make himself heard over the deafening noise. Instinctively crouching down and moving on all fours because of the rotor blades which now seemed perilously close and the wind which threatened to blow them off the roof of the truck, Emma and Juliet crawled towards the aircraft. Lawrence now hovered just inches away, although the distance between the roof of the truck and the helicopter’s nearest landing strut seemed immense. Taking a deep breath Emma stepped across the gap and pulled herself into the back of the aircraft.

Cooper ran down to the front end of the truck and lay down across the width of the cab. He dragged himself further forward and leant down and banged on the half-open window next to Armitage. He could see the back of his head. The exhausted driver was lying across the steering wheel with his face turned away from Cooper.

‘Come on, Steve,’ Cooper pleaded. ‘We’ve done it.

Let’s get you up here.’

Armitage slowly lifted his head, turned to look at Cooper, and then dropped back down again. He closed his eyes.

‘Can’t,’ he gasped, his voice hollow and hoarse and his breathing shallow and intermittent. ‘Can’t do it.’

‘Come on,’ Cooper insisted, although he already suspected that it was pointless. Armitage’s face was grey and ashen.

He shook his head again.

‘Can’t.’

Frustrated, for a second Cooper contemplated jumping down and trying to manhandle the other survivor up onto the roof of the truck. He knew that it would be impossible and pointless. He’d have to climb down to do it and even if he managed to shift Armitage’s considerable weight, the hundreds of bodies still baying for his blood would prevent him, if not both of them, from getting back up to the helicopter.

‘Go,’ Armitage gasped, trying to lift his head again. The light from the helicopter suddenly shifted slightly, illuminating the inside of the cab and allowing Cooper to clearly see the pain in Armitage’s face. His lips were tinged with blue and it was obvious that he was beyond help.

‘Okay, mate,’ he said, reaching in through the window and resting his arm on the other man’s shoulder.

Reluctantly Cooper then stood up and ran the length of the roof to get to the helicopter. Strangely relieved, Armitage closed his eyes again and tried to breathe through the increasing pain until it finally stopped.

‘What about Steve?’ Emma shouted as Cooper scrambled into the helicopter and pulled the door shut behind him. He shook his head and looked down and watched the roof of the truck becoming smaller and smaller as the aircraft quickly climbed away.

Below them the airfield was a solid mass of crazed, decaying bodies.

46

Almost exactly fifty-nine days since the germ had destroyed almost all of the population of the planet, the final survivors arrived in the air over the island of Cormansey.

Michael had been waiting in the small cottage by the airstrip. Donna and Jack Baxter kept him company although no-one had spoken for what felt like hours.

Finally the oppressive silence was broken by the constant dull thud of the approaching helicopter. The distant sound increased Michael’s uncertainty and nervousness to an almost unbearable level. Almost too afraid to look he went outside and scanned the skies until he finally spotted the aircraft approaching. He watched every last metre of its painfully long descent to the ground and then sprinted the length of the island’s short runway.

Cooper was the first to get out, then Juliet.

Then he saw her.

Michael ran over to Emma and held her. Ignorant to everything else that was suddenly happening around them -

the frenzied and excited activity, the tears for missing friends, the cars which approached from various directions, the cheers and cries of relief and sadness - he buried her face in his chest and held her tightly.