Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (38 page)

FAMILY MAN

Brad hurried across the hospital car
park while trying not to cause suspicion.  His instinct was to run as fast
as he could, but he didn’t know if people would be looking for him.

There’s no way I’m staying in that cess pit with a
disease on the loose.  They don’t pay me enough for that.

Brad knew he would probably lose his job, but when he’d
heard that there was something loose in the hospital, a primal instinct had
demanded he flee.  His stomach ached, even now, at the thought of Dr Clark
sneezing all over him.

Dirty bitch.

Brad wanted to go straight home, see his wife, but he didn’t
know if the hospital would try to contact him there.  He also needed to
work out a way to tell his wife that he had just walked out on his job.

He had a better idea and headed for the bus stop, hopped
onto the 26 as soon as it pulled up.  It was packed full of people and he
was forced to stand up and hold onto an overhead rail.  Luckily it would
only be a short trip. 

While he was waiting, he smiled at a little girl with
pigtails and bright orange bows.  She smiled back at him for a while but
then turned to talk to her mommy.

Cute kid. 

Sometimes Brad wished he’d had a child, but he’d never
earned much money and the thought of having to spend the little he did have on
another mouth to feed was too much for him to consider.  Deep down,
though, it was probably because he knew he would make a lousy father.  He
didn’t want to ruin a kid like his father had him.

The bus came to Brad’s stop and he leapt out onto the
pavement.  He was in a rough part of town; a housing estate full of low
income housing and a dilapidated shopping centre.  It would be frightening
to most people, but not to Brad.  He visited the area frequently.

He headed into a small corner shop and nodded to the owner,
who nodded right back at him, giving him the permission he sought.  At the
back of the store was a door.  Behind it was a flight of stairs. 
Brad headed up and went through the door at the top.

A familiar musky scent filled the air.

Sandy was behind the desk as always.  She seemed to work
all hours.  Brad headed up to her and smiled.

“Mr Brad,” she said in her Nigerian twang.  “What would
you like today?”

Brad took out his wallet and paid her £150 for the full
works.  He needed to de-stress in a big way.  “Everything, please.”

Sandy took the money and nodded subserviently.  “You
want Michelle?”

Brad chuckled.  “Of course.”

“Second door on left.”

Brad headed into Michelle’s room and was instantly aroused
to find her lying on the bed in a black and red negligee.  Her petit Chinese
figure was as alluring as ever.  The thought of penetrating her orifices
was enough to make Brad forget all of his worries.

“Hello, Brad,” she said seductively.  “It has been a
long time.  More than a week, no?”

“I’ve been busy, sweetheart.  Never stopped thinking
about you for a minute, though.”

Michelle slunk down the bed towards him on her hands and
knees.  “You want my ass?”

Brad laughed.  “Let’s just start with a blowjob.”

Michelle got to work.  By the time Brad came, his semen
was already infected.

Michelle had slept with seven men by
the time her twelve hour shift had ended.  She hurt all over.

At least now her shift was finished.  She intended
never to have another one.

I’ve finally taken as much as I can.  No more sweaty
men and their limp dicks.

Michelle had been brought to England against her will and
made to do terrible things.  She had spent the last six years being
treated like a possession, leant out for money like a power tool or
lawnmower.  She could take no more.

At first she had resisted her situation, bit and clawed at
the men until they beat her unconscious.  But eventually she had broken,
succumbed to their demands.  The last couple of years she had behaved well
enough that she had been allowed to live alone in a flat and go about her own
business in the rare hours she was not working.  That was why she would be
able to do what she was planning to do.  Nobody would know she was missing
until tomorrow.

And by then it would be too late to stop her.

She went into the small kitchenette of her flat and switched
on the kettle.  A mug of black tea would help calm her nerves whilst she
waited for what was to come.  It might also get rid of her splitting
headache and clear her blocked sinuses.

Any minute now, I’ll take that last step and there’ll be
no going back.  It will all be over.

There was a knock at the door.  Michelle gripped the
edge of the kitchen counter and took a deep breath.

Here goes.

She went and opened the door and let the man inside. 
He was tall and dark.  Not what she had imagined.  He was also
wearing a suit, which she also had not expected.

“Michelle Lin?”

Michelle nodded.  “Yes, please take a seat, Detective.”

The tall man did as he was asked and took a seat on the
worn, leather sofa in the centre of the room.  Michelle went back into the
kitchen again and made a second cup of tea.  She brought it, along with
her own, over to the coffee table.

Her guest smelt strongly of aftershave.

She took a seat on the recliner opposite the sofa. 
“You can protect me when all this is done, yes?”

The man nodded.  “Yes, we will keep you safe. 
We’ll set you up with a new life and you can forget about this entire chapter
of your life.”

Michelle grinned.  The feeling of warm relief running
through her stomach almost made her forget about her headache.  “I am very
grateful to you, Detective Marsh.  You are my last hope.”

“And you are ours.  Can you really help us bring down
the Kahn prostitution ring?  You have evidence?”

“Not evidence, but I can tell you everything.  Not just
about prostitution, but drugs, too.  Mr Kahn is into everything.  I
know exactly what and where; all of his movements, all of his clients.  I
can even tell you where his shipments come in.”

Detective Marsh grinned.  “With all that, Mr Kahn will
ruined.  You could expose his clients, humiliate them.  The police
could catch him red-handed with enough drugs to put him in jail for the rest of
his life.  You are positive you are prepared for all of that?”

“Yes.  I want to destroy Mr Kahn, and all of the sick,
perverted men that make him rich.”

Detective Marsh leant forward and took a sip from his
tea.  Then he just sat there on the sofa for several seconds.  He
seemed to be mulling something over.

Michelle was feeling anxious.  Her headache was getting
worse.  “I can tell you everything,” she said.  “Just tell me when to
get started.  I know everything.”

Detective Marsh stood up and let out a sigh.  “No,
Michelle.  I’m afraid you do not know everything; but you do know too
much.”

Detective Marsh took out the black-market pistol that Mr
Kahn had given to him and fired it three times into Michelle’s chest.  The
blood spatter that found its way onto his shirt was teeming with a virus that
had made its way all the way from the Mediterranean Sea.

Detective Marsh took a shower at
home and then headed right back to work.  The police station was unusually
abuzz and several of his colleagues were frustrated that they had not been able
to get a hold of him in the last few hours.  He’d simply told them he was
busy.

Busy killing a hooker.
 

Marsh felt beads of sweat running down his spine.  It
was not a hot day and he wondered why his skin was so clammy.  He put it
down to the stress of committing a murder – his first and hopefully his
last.  But if Kahn had anything to do with it…

Why the hell did I ever get into drugs and hookers? 
I’m the world’s biggest fucking idiot.

The dispatch floor was teeming with bodies as the telephone
staff patched calls through to the relevant departments.  It seemed like
something was going on.  Too many calls.

Something’s obviously hit the fan.

Marsh stomped over to the offices and headed for the
Briefing Room.  He’d had a feeling he would find several of his colleagues
there, but he was surprised to find that half the officers on staff were
standing inside.

“Marsh!  Where the hell have you been?”  It was DI
Winters, and she did not look happy.

“Sorry, Ma’am.  I was…otherwise engaged.  What’s
going on?”

DI Winters shook her head and cursed.  “Chris, will you
take him away and brief him, please.  We need to get moving.”

Detective Chris Cox left the assembly and took Marsh out
into the corridor.  The first thing he said was, “You look like shit.”

Marsh shrugged the comment off.  “I’m fine – just a
cold or something.  What’s going on?”

Chris shook his head and cleared his throat.  “Nobody
knows, really.  Southampton General has been quarantined because of some
super-bug.  We’ve been hearing that people have gotten really sick, and
that they’ve been attacking each other, as well.”

“Attacking each other?”

“Yeah.  No one can make much sense of it, but some
calls got through from within the hospital about an hour ago.  There’s a
group locked up inside that are claiming some of the infected people have gone
mad and are trying to kill them.  Winter is trying to figure out a way to
respond without breaking the quarantine around the hospital.”

Marsh was shocked.  It had never been an ordinary day
at the office, but it was getting even weirder.  “Do we know what the
cause is?”

Chris nodded.  “The World Health Organization have got
involved.  They’re saying something about that terrorist attack in the Med
is responsible.  They think some kind of virus got loose.”

“Shit!  How the hell did it make it over here?”

Chris shrugged.  “I don’t have all the details. 
We’ve been responding to so many calls that nobody really knows what’s going
on.”

“Why so many?  Are the cases not contained to the
hospital?”

“Mostly, but there have been some strange calls from all
over the place.  We’ve been asked to help the NHS locate and detain any
suspected locations of the virus outside of the hospital.”

“What?  What locations?”

Chris sighed.  “Whatever this virus is…it’s spreading.”

Marsh flopped back against the wall.  “I don’t want to
get involved with any nasty diseases.  That’s not my fucking job.”

Christ, I just want to go home and get high.  Smoke
this day away into oblivion.

Chris shrugged.  “Our job is to follow orders, and
right now it’s all hands on deck.  I was about to help set up a checkpoint
at the train station.  Winters wants us looking out for signs of sickness
in high traffic areas.”

Marsh bit his lip and breathed out through his nose. 
“Goddamn it!  Okay, I’ll tag along, but I swear if I catch smallpox, I’m
going straight to the union for damages.”

“You’re not going to catch smallpox,” Chris said, chuckling.

But Marsh had already caught something far worse.

Chris didn’t like the way his
partner looked.  Marsh was a hard-living kind of guy and would often come
in with the tell-tale signs of a hangover, but today was different.  No
hangover could have made him look like the heavy-breathing bag of shit he
looked like today, though.

“You feeling okay?”

Marsh looked over from the passenger seat and sniffed. 
“I’m fine.  Must have been something I ate.  Just stop gawping at
me.”

“Okay.  Just let me know if you need to take off. 
You’ll be no use to me, sick.”

Chris brought the unmarked police car into the train station
car park and pulled it into one of the spaces.  It was the middle of a
weekday so the station wasn’t as busy as it could have been, which would make
life easier.

Especially if we have to lock the place down.

“So what are we looking for?” Marsh asked.

Chris turned off the engine and answered the question. 
“Sneezing, bleeding, sweating.  Flu-like symptoms that progress to
haemorrhaging and aggression.”

“Christ almighty,” said Marsh.  “What kind of maniac
unleashes something like that on purpose?”

“We don’t know anything right now.  We just need to be
vigilant.   Better safe than sorry.”  Chris opened his
door.  “Come on, there should be a couple of uniforms inside waiting for
us.”

Marsh started coughing, but he opened his own door and
stepped out with Chris.  The sun was beginning to go down, which gave
everything a dull orange tint.  Chris always found dusk to be a depressing
time of day, neither light nor dark.  It was the day’s limbo and easy to
get lost in.

Chris had to usher Marsh across the car park and towards the
main building that housed the station.  It was a medium-sized hub,
consisting of six platforms, ticket office, and a row of shops and fast food
restaurants.  There was probably less than a hundred passengers waiting on
the platforms.  It would not be impossible to survey them all.

Up ahead, two uniformed officers stood in their fluorescent
yellow jackets.  They recognised Detective Cox when he approached them.

“Everything been okay here?”

The larger of the two officers nodded.  “So far so
good.  Haven’t seen anything alarming.  The staff here have all been
asked to watch out for anyone suspicious.”

“Good,” said Chris.  “We’ll take it from here.”

The two police officers nodded and left them to it. 
Chris decided to get himself set up with a coffee before he got to work. 
“You want a drink, Marsh?”

Marsh glanced at him.  His eyes were red and
bulging.  His nose was running.  “Yeah, cheers.  Get us a tea;
white, two sugars.”

“Coming right up.”  Chris headed off to the small
coffee shop that served the station.  There was no one else inside except
for an acne-ridden barista.  He placed his order, stood and waited. 
A radio hissed away from a nearby counter.

Reports…mass sickness…Southampton General…police cordon…

Chris shook his head.  Things were obviously no
better.  His radio had remained silent for the last hour and he knew that
it was likely because everyone was so busy.  Nobody had time to check in
with anybody else.

Hopefully whatever it is has been contained to the
hospital.  If this thing spreads then the terrorists will have giant
smiles on their goat faces.

Chris had lost a distant cousin in the 9/11 attacks. 
He could not claim any great loss, but the loss of a family member – however
distant – gave him a connection to the atrocity that perhaps others in the UK
did not have.  To them it had been a horror movie unfolding on the
news.  For him it had been real.  Punishing evil people for their
torment of others had been his driving force ever since.  Drug dealers,
abusive husbands…nothing was too big or small to elicit his concern.  His
role in life was to stop the bad guys, but right now it seemed like they had
scored a victory.  It made Chris feel sick.

The barista came back with his order.  He paid the
young man and asked him a question.  “Has anybody called in sick today?”

“Nope.  We don’t need many staff on during the
week.  Just me and the manager at the moment.  He’s in the back.”

Chris nodded.  “Okay, just wondering. 
Thanks.”  He took the hot beverages and headed back to where he’d left
Marsh standing.  His partner was still in the same position, but he was
slouched like a bag of potatoes, letting all his weight hang downwards.

“Marsh!”

His partner did not reply.

“Hey, Marsh.  Get your head in the game, man.”

Still no reply.  Chris huffed and stepped around in
front of him.  He didn’t expect to see what he did.

“You’re bleeding.”

Marsh snapped out of his daze and looked at Chris.  His
nose was leaking blood all the way down onto the tip of his chin.  “W…what
you talking about?”

“Your nose!  Here…”  Chris pulled a handkerchief
from his pocket and held it to his partner’s nose.  The blood was coming
thick and fast.

Marsh crumpled at the knees.  Chris tried to hold him
up but was only able to ease him to the ground slowly.  “What the hell is
wrong with you?”

Marsh wasn’t responding.  His body was rigid and he was
going into some sort of seizure.  Chris placed his hands gently behind his
partner’s head and cried out for assistance.  A moment later, the barista
from the coffee shop and several nearby commuters had come to help.

Chris shouted at them as they stood around gawping. 
“Call an ambulance.”

One of the passengers took out their phone and begun
dialling.  The coffee shop employee dropped down onto his knees beside
Chris and went to grab a hold of Marsh’s flailing body.

Chris shot out his hand.  “No!  Don’t restrict
him.  Just let the seizure end on its own.”

The young barista stared down at Chris’s hand clamped around
his wrist.  The stained handkerchief was scrunched between his fingers and
blood had smeared all over his forearm.  “Dude!  You got blood on
me.”

Chris withdrew his hand.  “I’m sorry.  Go get
yourself cleaned up.”

The barista hurried back into the coffee shop, while Chris
held onto his partner.  Marsh’s seizure was coming to an end, but blood
continued leaking from his nose.  It had also began to seep from the edges
of his eye sockets.  The gathered spectators held their mouths and gasped.

It was then that Chris had a realisation. 
He has
it.  He’s caught the virus we’ve been sent here to look for.  Shit,
Marsh, what the hell have you been up to?

Then he had another, more frightening thought.
  He’s
infectious.  I need to close this whole place down.  God knows how
many people he’s passed this onto already.

Chris let go of Marsh, letting his body slump to the ground. 
He shot to his feet and pulled out his radio.  It crackled as he spoke
into it.  The panic in his voice was obvious.  “Dispatch.  This
is Detective Cox.  The virus has spread.”