Salby (Book 2): Salby Evolution (4 page)

What if the kids were with her?
Surely, they would be in school?

I purged the notion from my mind and prayed it
wasn’t
my ex-wife.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Barbie questioned.

“What? Yes, sorry, I’m fine. I thought I saw someone earlier that I knew is all. She’s gone now though. Come on, we need a car. Stay low between the rows until I find one that’s open.”

“Toys for your kids?”

“I’ll tell you about it later, stay close, and keep your head down.” I warned.

Three months later, Tenerife, Spain, 27
th
June 2014, 2000 hours.

The hotel cuisine really was something to behold as course after course arrived at the table. Every so often, Nathan stole a glance at Evie, his feelings of desire not quelled by the company or environment. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes, the wisps of hair seductively resting on her shoulders, full lips beautifully accented as her expressions acknowledged the chatter. Her mouth formed a discreet smile as her eyes caught him in the act. Rumbled. They both laughed at the moment, which prompted a quizzical look from Stewey and Alisa.

“It’s nothing—just a thought,” Nathan said, in reassurance.

“So how’s the new role going then?” Stewey asked.

“Oh, you mean as an inspector of shale gas fracking companies which seem to be springing up everywhere?” Nathan quipped.

“Aye, that. Quite a fancy title for a reporter, isn’t it?” Stewey teased.

“It is that. Not so bad working with Brian Goulding, though. He knows his stuff; I’ll give him that much. Since his appointment from the Shale Gas Fracking Corporation, and its subsequent collapse, he’s proved invaluable. His personnel file didn’t lie, he’s an experienced engineer, dedicated to what he does. Since the outbreak, the companies have locked down their safety precautions, tightened up procedures and appear to be taking effective measures. Brian is keen on the training and development of staff, to ensure that we never face anything like it again.”

The mere mention of the outbreak brought a silence to the table, as each of them mentally recalled their own experiences of it.

“What happened to that young corporal, what was her name, Simms?” Evie asked.

“Aye, Simms. That’s the lass. Rumour has it she went on an intensive fast-track officer training course a couple months ago. Not heard anything on the grapevine yet to suggest otherwise. Top-up anyone?” Stewey asked as he offered the table wine around.

“How’s Charles, honey? I hope he’s taking it easy now that he’s retired. Have you heard from him at all?” Nathan asked.

Evie looked left and right before she spoke, to ensure that no one besides those at the table were in earshot.

“He’s keeping his hand in. He may be retired, but he’s still in the loop. I think he’d be lost without at least something to do with potions. Spoke to him last week as it happened. He mentioned a report of a missing ship that has since been located off the coast of Murmansk. It left Hull just before the government lockdown was imposed. A spotter plane flew low over the vessel and the pilot reported seeing what looked like movement among bodies scattered on deck. This is classified information and it goes no further.”

“Jesus! You don’t think it could be—” Alisa began.

“Now, honey, let’s not jump to conclusions here,” Stewey cut in. He took her hand in his own to add a calming influence to his words. “We don’t know that for sure, based upon the words of a pilot. Besides, the antidote to the S.A.L.B.Y. strain is very effective, not to mention the outside lifespan of the organism itself. Look at Nathan here, strong as an ox. There’s no way it could have gotten onboard that boat. No way.” Stewey finished, confident in his own assessment.

Evie looked troubled. Her internal alarm bells had begun to ring. She already knew more than had been discussed but chose not to share it at that time. They were on leave after all, not a time for business, and nothing was confirmed. She did her very best not to reveal her true feelings, instead raising her glass in the hope that it would offer up at least a convincing action to the contrary. Stewey topped her up, set the bottle on the table, and continued to pick at the array of food. Nathan looked directly at Evie, but this time, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Right, what say we have a stroll on the beachfront then, burn off some of these calories?” Alisa suggested. She’d sensed the tension hanging in the air.

“Sounds like a good idea. Some sea and sand will do us all good, come on,” Nathan added.

They could hear Stewey and Alisa as they talked in low tones some way behind them. Nathan knew something troubled Evie. He could tell by the sheer pressure of her fingers intertwined with his, as if she were holding on to him for dear life.

“You wanna share?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“That boat, Nate. It’s possible that it left with infected aboard. The time frame is close, but there is room for it to be possible. The information that Charles gave me is strictly confidential, it could cause worldwide panic, not to mention a potential war. That ship is heading for Russia,” Evie warned.

“So what’s the worst-case scenario?”

“What? You mean besides another major outbreak in a country ten times the size of the UK? That’s pretty worst case. If that virus was to fall into the wrong hands, it could be utilised as a global weapon of destruction. They have labs there too, you know.”

“But we don’t know for sure that it
is
carrying infected, do we?” Nathan pressed.

“Well, no. Not for certain, but it’s only a matter of time one way or the other. The pilot was convinced he saw bodies. What else could it be?”

“Oh come on now, use that pretty head and think of the multitude of possibilities besides the virus. Could be food poisoning for all we know, or a rogue shipmate who finally flipped out at sea. There’s a myriad of reasons. What say you wait until you know more before you start tearing strips off yourself—that’s my job, in the bedroom,” he toyed, attempting to lighten Evie’s mood.

Evie pressed against him and accepted that his argument had substance. Her logical mind didn’t always contemplate things outside of her field. He gave her strength, a different view on the world, not to mention the best lovemaking she had ever experienced.

Nathan pulled her into him as they walked along the shore, the sound of the sea acting as a lullaby to the fears and doubts in her mind. Only time would reveal more, but by then, it could already be too late, she thought.

“Wait up, you two lovebirds. It’s getting late. Shall we head back for the night?” Stewey asked.

“Yes, sure. A nightcap and then we’ll head up,” Nathan agreed.

Both couples began to walk back towards the hotel, ready to settle down for the night.

Three months earlier, Salby Retail Park, North Yorkshire, 19
th
March 2014, 1300 hours.

The rows of cars provided cover as we searched among them, a hope beyond hope to find one substantial enough for our needs. I knew we would likely need to plough our way out of here, and my car simply wouldn’t have the guts to make it. I spotted a cross-over two rows ahead, door open.

“Barbie, there! That one,” I called.

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. The cause of her temporary paralysis became evident soon enough. A lone woman, clearly one of ‘them’, stood slightly off to her left. Barbie raised the trident fork in a half-hearted gesture of competent defence. It had little effect at distraction and the woman continued to close the gap, goading Barbie to make her move.

“Barbie! Barbara!
Move, dammit!”
I yelled, in a vain attempt to snap her out of her daze.

The crazed, wild haired woman, covered in grime, and slightly larger than Barbie, took another step, her face contorted in pure hate-filled, murderous rage. Her intentions were clear; someone was going to die today.

In the remaining seconds before the woman made contact with Barbie, I had to think fast. I turned, ran and hurdled up and over the cars, building as much momentum as I could. As I reached the car closest to the woman, I jumped.

In what could have been an Olympic-class dive, I ploughed into the woman and sent both of us sprawling to the ground. I came down hard on my right wrist. The white-hot pain shot through my arm and momentarily threw me off the task at hand. That moment was all it took for the woman to lunge at my flayed out legs. She sank her teeth deep into my thigh and bit down hard. I screamed out my pain, which cancelled out that of the fire in my wrist—her clamp on my leg akin to that of a medium-sized dog.

Barbie snapped out of her world and returned to this one, straddled the woman with the trident raised high at her chest, and forced it down hard into the back of the woman’s skull. For a few seconds, almost nothing happened, just a mild twitch and only the barest reduction in the pressure of the woman’s hold upon my leg. Her eyes found mine as the light within them began to fade, glassed over as life became extinct. For one fleeting moment, I thought her grip upon me would remain, but it waned enough for me to pull away. Her face hit the concrete as the trident stood vertical, planted prong-deep in the back of her head.

Barbie appeared to be cold, but nowhere near as cold as I felt. Her body shook uncontrollably and her breathing became sporadic, jerky, as she hyperventilated. In what I can only describe as a systematic assault, my body began to freeze.

Fingers of icy intrusion coursed through my veins, pushed around my system by my rapid heartbeat. My head felt light, woozy, and images began to blur. I managed to stand on my own, though the proximity of the car was the only thing to keep me upright.

“Are you okay? You look bad,” Barbie observed, as she came to my aid.

“Barb, I need help. Something is wrong. Barbie—”

“Rest a minute, just take a moment, you’ll be fine. The wound is pretty deep but doesn’t seem to be bleeding too much. I’ll look at it when we get out of here. Reckon you can make it to the car?” her brow furrowed as she spoke.

I tried hard to focus on her beautiful blue eyes. They had shone when I first met her, so bright that the impression remained in my mind. Now, her face swooned in and out, distorted by unfocused waves that rolled and undulated. Her arm encircled my waist, more to keep me upright than to aid my progress towards the vehicle. The wound, though not severe enough to limit the actual workings of my leg, had other implications of which my mind could not yet collate. The quiver in my soul told me that something was very wrong with me.

“How far now?”

“Are you gonna make it? It’s just there, right there, come on, just a little more. Stay with me. Keep talking,” she urged.

“I’m cold, Barbie, freezing cold. I can’t focus, feels like I’ve been drugged somehow, and I’m floating. I feel agitated, angry at everything—even you, for some reason,” I babbled.

“Really? What did I do?” She asked.

“I don’t—I don’t know. Nothing I can recall right now.”

We made it to the car, thankfully. She propped me up against the passenger door as she checked inside. Sure enough, the keys, with an impressive factory fob still attached, dangled from the ignition. Barbie opened the rear passenger side, and I flopped backwards across the seat. The urge to close my eyes was so strong and yet something I knew I had to fight for as long as I could. The engine turned over on the first attempt to start it, and the car purred as it settled.

“Oh! I love the colour. It’s an automatic, soft hide seats too, and a mirror big enough for makeup. How do I make it go?” Barbie panicked.

“Lever to ‘D,’ park brake off, just accelerator and brake, that’s all you need.” I replied, weakly. For the life of me, I couldn’t lift my head from the seat. It felt weighted, magnetised to the plush leather.

“Thank God, I’ve got flat shoes on. I can’t drive in my heels for shit, automatic or not,” Barbie stated confidently.

If I were able to, I’d have chuckled at that comment. We were soon moving tentatively through the car park. After several circuits, Barbie decided upon a shortcut up and over the verges to get to the road. It was a tough, bumpy ride away from the shopping mall, with repeated use of the public footpath as a thoroughfare. Aside from a close encounter with a limited waiting sign which clattered the driver’s wing mirror, we made it unscathed without further intervention from the poor, unfortunate souls already caught up in this nightmare. The motorway exit loomed just ahead.

“Which way, Simon? Simon, are you still with me?” I heard her ask, as she peered through the rear-view to check.

“Still here, but fading fast. We go south, down the A1. Pick up the M62 East for Hull. Make for the docks, we need to be—” I managed, before I blacked out mid-sentence.

“Simon! Shit! Simon, talk to me! Great! That’s
just
great. Now he wants to take a nap. Okay, south, he said, then east. Come on, you can do this—it’s just a drive to the sea.”

Queen Elizabeth Dock, Hull, 19
th
March 2014, 1415 hours.

Still a relatively short time after the initial outbreak at Salby, the main motorways remained passable. Barbie made good progress towards the port city of Hull, thirty miles east. Upon arrival to the Queen Elizabeth Dock, used primarily for freight sailings, Barbie parked the car out of sight and away from the main route in.

Next, she made sure that Simon was comfortable and took a quick look at the leg wound which seemed to have caused such serious symptoms. With no medical kit to hand, there wasn’t much to be done. The spattered blood, evident on the edges of the torn denim, looked to have coagulated and sealed. Without closer inspection, she reasoned that if he wasn’t bleeding, anything else could be dealt with once they were safe.

“Okay, think, Barbie, think. What would Simon do from here? He must have come to the docks for a reason. There must be more of ‘them’ out there. He said he’d met some. The docks—
boats.
That’s it!
He wants us to get on a boat, to sail our way out of this place.
Baltic Wanderer
, I like the sound of that one. That’s in Russia, isn’t it? The Baltic?” she asked, as if Simon would answer.

By the time night fell, the dockworkers had departed for their homes and into nightmares of their own, no doubt. Barbie woke with a start from her impromptu nap. Long nights studying medicine, combined with the day job, took its toll upon her—even at the age of twenty-three. She pulled the car as close to the side of the boat as possible and parked behind a robust metal container, so as not to be visible from the vessel. It seemed eerily quiet, too good to be true. She took the bag with the items taken from the store, slung over her shoulders.

“Right, my impromptu saviour, it’s time to return the favour.” She psyched herself up before opening the passenger door wide, but then stopped.

Instead, she moved to the back of the car and popped the tailgate. Sure enough, the side pocket held a green box with a white cross emblazoned on the front. First Aid Kit, the cover declared. Most new modern cars carried one supplied by the manufacturer these days, not that Barbie had ever owned a brand new car. She took the kit with a half-smile and added it to the backpack contents. As she returned to the rear passenger side, Simon stirred.