Salby (Book 2): Salby Evolution (3 page)

Tenerife, Spain, 27
th
June 2014, 1900 hours.

Two months after the initial outbreak of the Saliva Activated Live Blood type Y (S.A.L.B.Y) viral strain, the UK struggled long and hard to regain a foothold on some sort of normality. Hundreds of thousands lost their lives, and if truth were known, the country still mourned the loss of its sons and daughters. Mass funerals were held in honour of those lost both to death, and in the literal sense. Many of the bodies of those missing were never recovered.

The international community had a million questions; tension ran high for a while. Accusations of a botched chemical warfare attempt were made by the more volatile states, and, at the other end of the spectrum, offers of help and support from came from allies of the United Kingdom. The allies, veiled in a guise of political sympathy, were keen to get more information on exactly what type of strain had caused such damage to a technologically advanced country in the first place. Diplomacy was the key in those instances, with technical-sounding data quickly produced, edited and released to appease the baying animals, at least until a more plausible lie could be created.

There were several acknowledgements for bravery and contribution right across the board. The press still reported tales of heroism at the height of the disaster, of those who’d risked their lives to save others, or simply done their civilian jobs in the combined effort to bring their country back from the brink of decimation.

*****

For newly-appointed Chief Medical Officer - MOD United Kingdom, Lieutenant Colonel Evelyn Shepherd, MD, BSc/MicV, it had been business as usual. With the help of her team, based in the Salby Bio-Chemical Installation, buried deep beneath the town of its namesake, they continued to manufacture vast quantities of the anti-viral serum.

The cure had been created almost by chance on the discovery of two small children and their mother, who appeared to have resistant DNA to the “Y” strain of the virus. Evelyn had ordered the nationwide immediate research and development of an anti-viral serum, to be effective with all known blood types. This proved instrumental in both thwarting the progress of the outbreak and in bringing it to a halt before it could break the national lockdown imposed by the government. As soon as events finally calmed down, at least enough to warrant a few days’ leave, she’d accepted the proposal of a break away from it all, in the company of Nathan Cross.

*****

Evelyn turned to face him as he came from the shower. The steam grappled to keep him there as it wafted through the open door, his near-naked body shrouded. Her eyes met his briefly, before following his torso all the way down, lingering at the well-defined “V” at his hips. Created by his lean physique and well-defined pelvic muscles, the definition was accented by the tiny droplets of water that refused to let him go. The small bath towel, tucked in at his left hip, was the only thing hiding his modesty.

“Evie, honey, if you keep staring at me that way, you’ll give me a complex,” Nathan quipped. He smiled at her and raised a single eyebrow.

“Mr. Cross, if I may say so, you are just divine. How’s that leg doing? Any pain, inhibited movement or aching?” she asked, in her medical tone.

“What say you give me a thorough examination, just to be on the safe side?” He winked. The towel fell to the floor as he moved towards her.

The star-struck lovers were abruptly disturbed by the rap of knuckles on the door. Nathan rushed to retrieve the discarded covering and hastily wrapped it back at his waist. Evie tied her robe at the front, but her eyes never left his body.

“I know. Of all the times. But hey, we better get that, it could be important,” he consoled, as he shared her frustration.

As he passed her to open the door, he kissed her nose and brushed his lips against hers, before whispering into her ear, “Later honey, later.” Evie giggled just as he pulled the door open.

“Something funny? What’d I miss?” the short, stocky, ginger-haired Scotsman asked.

“Come on in, Stewey. It was nothing, just bad timing mate,” Nathan said with a wry smile.

“Aye, I see, sorry, you two. I shoulda thought, I can disappear again if you like, come back later. It wasn’t important.”

Evie smiled at Stewey’s grasp of the situation, her face flushed slightly, which prompted her to turn for the bathroom. The squaddie beamed at her reaction as he smirked to his best mate, Nathan.

“It’s fine, bud. Come on in. Something cold to wet the whistle?”

Nathan pulled three bottles of beer from the cooler, set them on the side, and removed the caps, leaving them there as evidence, before handing one of the bottles, covered in fine condensation, to Stewey.

“Get that down you, and for God’s sake, sit down. You’re making the place look untidy,” he joked.

“Cheers, buddy. I didn’t mean to barge in, it’s not urgent. Me and the wee lassie are heading for food, wondered if you two wanted to double up?” Stewey managed, between slurps of beer. His Highland accent had broadened considerably almost as soon as he was on leave.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see what the boss says,” Nathan joked, his head cocked towards the bathroom.

Technically, Evie
was
still his boss, at least while he was under oath to the government. Not withholding an official stand-down, but with the imminent threat now gone, he would soon return to his own newly-acquired civilian role as an inspector of the rapidly forming shale gas fracking development locations dotted around the country.

“Ah, here’s my girl now.” Nathan quipped.

“Hey, Stewey, how are you?” Evie asked cheerily.

“I’m good, sorry to have barged in lassie. Wondered if you two wanted to join us for dinner?”

“What do you think, honey? Sounds good to me,” Evie agreed, as her hand brushed Nathan’s.

“Give us an hour Stewey, we’ll meet you in the lobby, and oh, get the beers in!”

That was Stewey’s cue to leave, and he caught on fast, made a polite exit, and left them to finish getting ready for the evening’s activities.

“Now, where were we?” Nathan pulled her towards him, his hands under her bottom to lift her, which brought her face to his. He kissed her tenderly and traced the contours of her mouth, before teasing her neck with his lips. He could feel the slight tremble from her body at his touches, the sensation enhanced by the faint, perfumed scent from her earlier shower. The tucked-in plain towel that covered him began to constrict his groin.

“We only have an hour, you know,” Evie said, deflated. She traced the lines of his defined upper arms, she let her palms rest over his chest as she looked into his eyes. “Let’s get ready, savour this desire and then tonight—” she hinted, but the sentence hung unfinished.

Nathan kissed her again, turned her around, and playfully patted her bottom back towards the bedroom.

*****

A little under an hour later, Evie strolled from the bedroom in a backless, black dress, which accentuated her body. Nathan stood, unable to remove his gaze as she approached.

“Will I do?” she smiled coyly.

“What won’t you do?” Nathan quipped as he brushed his lips against hers, mindful of the subtle makeup. “You look, stunning—truly stunning.”

“Thank you, honey. Nice shirt, suits you,
and
I know what’s underneath,” she teased.

“Shall we?” Nathan asked, offering his arm to accentuate the gentlemanly implication.

Together, they made their way down to the lobby to be greeted by the admiring glances of the various guests. An overly long appraisal from Stewey earned him a swift, firm dig to his ribs from his lovely wife, Alisa.

Hand-in-hand, Nathan and Evie approached the table. Stewey still managed to retain his gaze upon Evie, albeit much more clandestine after his reproach. To his credit, each place had a fresh, chilled drink ready and waiting, wine for the ladies, and beer for the gents.

“I was just about to say you look great—Nathan!” Stewey teased with a flash of his charming smile.

“Aw thanks, mate. You know, you might have got away with it but for the fact that your gaze was nowhere near me,” Nathan announced, with a wink to Alisa.

Stewey feigned injury to his ribs and pulled his wife close for a peck on the cheek.

“Evie, that dress is stunning on you. You
must
tell me where you bought it,” Alisa complimented.

She was taller than Stewey, though not by much, given the slender legs nicely finished off with subtle heels. Her eyes were the darkest Nathan had ever seen, aside from those of the deadheads. They shone, pure black as night, and distinctly far eastern, to match what seemed to be endless black locks—which extended to just below the base of her spine.

“Alisa, thank you. Join me to the ladies’ room, I’ll tell you all about it.” Evie replied.

Both women smiled as they made their way out, followed once more by respective gazes of both Nathan, and Stewey.

“You okay mate? You looked miles away there for a second, something wrong?” Stewey asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“What? Oh, yes, I’m back. It’s all good. It was nothing, just a memory that’s all.”

He’d told no one of the ongoing night terrors since his near-death encounter with the S.A.L.B.Y. virus, but lately, the dreams weren’t confined to the blanket of night. “What’s on the menu then?” Nathan said, in a bid to break the uneasy moment.

Stewey knew his best mate well, he wasn’t convinced there was nothing wrong, but for now, it would keep until Nathan felt ready to tell him. They browsed the extensive menu; the hotel restaurant had an exciting and exotic array of starters, main courses and desserts to suit any palate.

When the ladies returned, both smiled broadly before taking their places at the table, ready to order. They chatted freely over drinks as the first course arrived, the atmosphere one of relaxed indulgence. The conversation never steered towards the events of the previous few months in the UK.

Salby, North Yorkshire, 19
TH
March 2014, noon.

My car spluttered to a halt in the car park of the one and only out-of-town shopping park.

I despise shopping
.

There must have been some sort of incident on the outbound route farther up as the traffic was backed up considerably. Drivers honked their horns, angry words were exchanged and some people even began to run
towards
the incident.

Rubber-neckers!
The fascination of the human race with other’s misfortune never ceased to amaze me.

On the plus side, at least there
was
traffic here.

My journey there was a little hazy, surreal and dream-like. Images of the bloodied schoolboy encroached upon my vision and clouded my reason, turning my stomach. The phone in my hand was as good as useless. Repeated attempts at contacting the authorities bore only silence, no dial tone, no network—nothing.

4G coverage, my ass!

Resigned to my fate, and resolute in my determination, I swung the car door wide and stepped out, intent on heading for the toy store just across the parking area. The main precinct seemed to be pretty quiet despite the number of cars in the parking zones. I weaved between them, snubbing the pedestrian walkways in my haste to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible.

Extensive glass-fronted display windows ran along one entire wall of the south side of the precinct. Designer outlets crammed as much stock as they could into the portals to entice the passing trade. Despite my need to make the toy store, I stopped as my eyes settled upon a sturdy jacket in one of the more well-known stores. The price tag took my breath away—almost a week’s wages for me, but a well-made garment, which certainly looked the part. The dummy in the window looked life-like, perfectly still with an emotionless face, and yet, with such realism, I found myself with my nose almost pressed to the glass in an attempt to satisfy my curiosity.

Although he wore a ski hat, which covered his head and goggles, which obscured his eyes, I could make out movement behind the slightly tinted lenses. His eyes flicked frantically to his right, and his head emphasised the instruction with the barest of forced movement, as if urging me to flee. I stared in disbelief as the dummy repeatedly flicked its eyes to my left, and yet stood riveted to the spot.

The plate glass window two down from me exploded outwards and jolted me from my fixation. A body tumbled across the block paving in a blizzard of broken glass. To most, that would have been their cue to run. I stood fast. The body, that of a teenage shop worker, lay face down and motionless, surrounded by the refracting light sparkles of a million window fragments. The next thing to come through the same window was the janitor. I ran towards the nearest car, dived over the bonnet and landed in a heap, sandwiched between two parked vehicles. I peered around the front of the car, but stayed low enough to be hard to spot.

The janitor, in faded green overalls, appeared to be looking for something, or someone. His head moved slowly from right to left numerous times until his gaze settled upon a lone woman. I followed his stare towards the female.

Shit … she looks like Charley!

While I couldn’t be certain, the woman was about the right height, had the same long hair, and from the half of her face I could see, resembled my ex-wife, Charlotte perfectly.

I got it right, ex-wife, well it’s about bloody time!

It seemed as though minutes passed before the meathead janitor began to move towards her. There was no way I could overpower him. He was twice my weight and clearly strong enough to toss a body clean through a window.

Part of me doesn’t care if it is her. Weapons. I need weapons.

I popped my head up to look through the glass of the car doors as I began to crawl towards the DIY superstore off to my left. While the janitor, still a hundred yards from the woman, made slow progress towards her, I had enough time to get into the store, find something appropriate and get back to thwart his intentions—whatever they might be. Not that I was about to ask the man.

The substantial open space between me and the store entrance posed a risk I had to take. I crouched, my gaze returned to the woman and then to the man, and I let out a long, slow breath as he finally altered his course and re-entered the shopping complex.

The woman simply stood, in some kind of daze it seemed, shock perhaps at what had happened. I reasoned that I’d need some kind of weapon if I were to go after her, and given my proximity to the store, best I go in and arm myself.

The pneumatic doors slid apart long before I got close enough to pass through. I waited behind the nearest car to see who, or
what,
might come out, but no one did. The next time the doors opened, I took my chance and ran for the relative safety of the store, acutely aware of the fact that there could be more of those strange people inside. I crouched just inside the doors, conscious of the IR detector, keen not to set if off again. As I looked up, inside the frame, a switch caught my eye. In one fluid movement, I stood, pushed the switch upwards, and again crouched low. The doors rattled open no more. Good. Yes, this action blocked a fast escape route, but it also prevented any unwanted company from entering behind me, which, in my reasoning, would allow me some time to find what I needed.

The store had a massive, multi-departmental, open plan layout. A quick look around yielded no movement farther in, but it was simply too big to see every aisle. I kept low, stayed close to the rows of stock stacked to the roof, practically crawling down the first aisle, which only had sheets of board, corrugated plastics, and external building supplies.

Above my head, printed board signage swung on wire arms, fanned by the air conditioning units in the ceiling. My eyes locked onto the ‘Tools’ board, and I duly turned right as the arrow indicated. The aisle was clear. A few empty boxes lay on the floor in the middle, a trolley full of replenishment stock left abandoned. No sign of the staff. As I moved down the aisle, my first find was a hefty-looking monkey bar. Used primarily for leverage, the solid steel bar, a little over a metre long, could come in handy. I made a mental note of its position so as to pick it up before I left.

A little farther along stood a display of numerous knives. I picked two; one with a long, lockable, folding blade and a razor-sharp box cutter. Quickly, I stuffed both into my back pockets. In the same section, a sturdy backpack tool bag hung next to protective clothing items; I grabbed it, adjusted the straps, and slung it over my shoulder. It was easy to get carried away, forget the situation. As my confidence grew, in the absence of any sound or the presence of anyone else in the store, I stood to enable faster progress and access to the higher shelves. I loaded a few more items into my new backpack, and casually strolled to the next aisle.

The face glared down at me, and his eyes carried an accusatory look which sent a chill right through me. He said nothing, nor did he move. The trident-style garden fork which pinned him to a rack of wood had long since taken his ability to speak … or breathe. According to his name badge, he would have been Mike Stanning—Store Manager. Clearly, my day paled in comparison to his.

Instantly I crouched once more. Whoever, or whatever did that to him would need to have been powerful. Mike wasn’t a small man. I held my breath and parted my lips slightly to allow me to hear as much as possible, yet no sound came to me.

I slowly edged back the way I’d come, back towards the long iron monkey bar that caught my attention earlier.

With it firmly in my grasp, I rounded the opposite end of the aisle, away from Mike, towards the bedroom furniture section of the store.

This wasn’t good, not good at all.

My casual shoes squealed an introduction on the laminate flooring, even though I did my best to limit the sound as much as possible. A noise to my right snapped my head around, cocked towards a chunky oak, double-door wardrobe. As I edged closer to it, I used the tip of the iron bar to tap the doors.

“You’d best come out of there
really
slowly or so help me, I’ll crack your head.” I warned.

No movement, just a muffled whimper met my warning.

“I’ll not ask again. Come out, or by God, you’ll wish you had.” I swallowed the courage back down hard to prevent it from escaping me. The tip of the bar shook as I raised it in preparation, and, holding it high over my head ready to strike, I grabbed at the turned knob and yanked the door wide. My actions prompted a loud, shrill scream of sheer panic, though not from me.

“Ahhhheeeeeeee! Don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me! Are you one of them? Please, please—” the petrified woman cried. She cowered in the corner of the unopened side of the wardrobe, her hands shook about her face as she sobbed through her panic.

What could I do?

“Hey, hey, easy now. It’s okay. Look, I’ll put the bar down. I’m not going to hurt you, see. What do you mean by ‘one of them,’ one of who?” I asked, in an attempt to get the woman to calm herself and talk to me.

She spread her fingers to look me in the eye. Seconds ticked by before she pushed open the door, carefully pulling herself out and up, though she shied away from my extended hand.

“My name’s Simon,” I blabbed, not really knowing how else to react to her.

“I—I’m Barbara, though my friends call me Barbie, that’s if I have any friends left,” she added, amid shuddered sobs.

“Barbie, it is. You’re okay now. What happened here? How long have you been in there?” My questions came too fast for her and I could see her beginning to panic at her own recall. “Okay, forget it for now. We need to get out of here, away from this place, somewhere safe we can talk. Okay? Can you walk?” I asked.

She nodded.

I appraised her and could see why her shortened name was appropriate. I estimated that Barbie was in her late twenties, with a figure to match that of the plastic doll of her namesake—even in the dowdy store uniform. Long, golden hair flowed to at least the top of her shapely bottom. She edged towards me, still cautious, and I couldn’t blame her.

I glanced at my reflection in a mirrored wall panel to my left. My face was bloodied from the appointment with the tarmac earlier, my once clean jeans now had patches of muck and mud smeared everywhere, and an open tear in my T-shirt revealed a long, thin, angry-looking scratch to my side.

“I look a mess, sorry. We need to move,” I stated, lowering my gaze.

“It’s okay. Where will we go?”

“Somewhere safe. Away from potentially crowded places. I need you to tell me what you know, what you’ve seen and heard,” I urged.

“I can’t leave the store. The manager will fire me,” she panicked, still in shock it seemed.

“Oh, you mean Mike? He’s not going to give a shit, Barbie. Trust me on this,” I reassured her. I bent to pick up the iron bar and adjust the backpack, ready to move. “Stay close to me, keep your eyes peeled and if you see
anything
move, you sing out. You hear me?”

“Yes. Did the manager leave?”

“Yes, Barbie. He left a while back. Don’t worry about him, okay?” I took bold steps forwards in an attempt to end that line of questioning. She didn’t need to know either of his death, or his current whereabouts.

We passed through the gardening tools section, and the fork that protruded from Mike’s chest flashed into my mind. I stopped, picked up a similar one from the rack and handed it to Barbara. “Take this, use it if you must,” I urged, a little too matter-of-factly.

“You mean kill them, right?”

“Barbie, it’s them or us. And I know that you know what I mean by ‘them.’”

“You’ve seen
them
too?”

“I’ve had the day from hell so far—a man in a crashed car, a schoolboy, and a big fella outside with a penchant for throwing people through windows, intent on havoc. Tell me about it. I just want to see my kids, that’s all. Not too much to ask, is it? What have you seen?” I took the opportunity to keep her talking; she may have seen things that could help us both.

“I only work part-time. I’m a medical student, at uni most of the time, but I need the job to help pay for my studies. I got to work late today, around ten-ish. The boss gave me a right roasting and told me to clean up the display areas. That’s what I was doing when the first of them came into the store.” She paused, as an involuntary shiver consumed her.

“Go on,” I urged, keen to hear her story.

She painted a grim picture of her day as she described the people she had seen, and the chaos which had swarmed through the shopping complex and compelled her to hide in the wardrobe.

We made our way back to the front of the store. On a makeshift display stand, cunningly low to entice the attentions of the younger generation, several toys were laid out. I grabbed one from the boys’ side, one from the girls’, and placed them into the backpack.

It had been less than ten minutes since I entered. The breaker switch clicked the electrical lifeblood back into the sliding doors, which responded as we activated the sensor. Instantly, I looked across the car park as I tried to spot the woman I thought could be Charlotte. She was nowhere to be seen. I silently cursed and hoped she’d found safety—before a horrifying thought hit me.