itself back out of sight again.
Lorna stood in the corridor outside the office and composed herself before going in. The handle was stiff and she needed to shove the door hard with her full weight to get it open. She paused again before going any farther, letting the cloying stench of the captive corpse’s decay dissipate. She felt unexpectedly nervous. Christ, what was she worried about? She’d dealt with hundreds of these creatures before now, and this one wasn’t any more of a threat than any other. And besides, she reminded herself, this is one corpse against six of us. Damn thing doesn’t stand a chance.
She entered the dark room, picking her way through the waste and rubbish which had accumulated over weeks, trying not to slip in the dark puddles of offensive-smelling gunk which had seeped and dribbled from the cadaver over time. She moved toward the light coming from the pool. The corpse in the doorway was still preoccupied with the men lying in wait for it outside and didn’t notice her approaching. She’d never been this close to one of the dead before and not been about to destroy it. It was a grotesque, yet morbidly fascinating sight. The nearer she got, the more unpleasant detail she could make out. The various lesions and open wounds on its torso and legs were filled with teeming movement—thousands of maggots and worms gorging on its decaying skin. A chunk of flesh hung loose from the side of its right calf. She could see bones and what was left of its muscles and sinew under the skin. Although for a moment her nerves threatened to get the better of her, she forced herself to stay focused and keep going.
“Get ready,” she shouted.
At the sound of her voice the cadaver began to slowly try and turn itself around, but it was far too slow and clumsy. Lorna lifted her hands and shoved it firmly in the small of its back, taking care to handle its swimming costume and not make contact with bare flesh. Knocked off-balance, the corpse tripped back out into the open again. She followed it through to the poolside, slamming the door behind her and sealing off its escape route. It instinctively lurched toward Hollis and Martin, the closest of its aggressors. Howard’s dog bolted forward and he dragged her back, just managing to grab her collar as she leaped at the Swimmer. Her claws dragged along the raised floor tiles at the side of the pool as she scrambled to break free and attack.
“Watch it!” Gordon yelled as the dead woman heaved its disfigured bulk toward Martin. He put his arms up to protect himself, but Hollis shoved him out of the way. The body acted with remarkable speed, almost immediately turning its full attention toward him instead. It crashed into him with unexpected momentum, shoving him back and over.
“See,” he said as he picked himself up and struggled to grab hold of the hideous figure which writhed and squirmed relentlessly, “it has no choice now. We’ve made it fight. All it can do is attack.”
The monster’s loose, greasy skin seemed to slip and slide around its bones as he held it. It managed to free itself from Hollis’s grasp and immediately lurched toward Harte, the next closest. He could see that it had already been damaged as a result of its brief skirmish with the other man. The flesh at the top of its right shoulder had been torn away and now appeared to be falling down its arm like a loose-fitting sleeve. He looked deep into its vile face as it neared. Harte knew nothing of the creature’s past. He knew only that it was time to end its pitiful existence. He jumped toward it, grabbing a fistful of hair and slamming its face onto the tiles at the edge of the stagnant swimming pool. Still it continued to try and fight, hopelessly overpowered but stubborn and relentless to the end.
“Fucking thing won’t give up,” he said anxiously as he fought to keep hold of it. No one else moved. Howard, in particular, had seen far fewer corpses than the others and was overwhelmed by the full extent of this cadaver’s grotesque appearance. Every movement it made caused more damage but it didn’t stop. He could see rotten flesh literally peeling away from its bones; the more it fought, the more damaged it became. But what else could it do? The enormity of what they were witnessing was not lost on Lorna. More used to being this close to the dead, she could ignore the shock of the grime and gore and concentrate on the implications of the creature’s actions.
“So those bodies outside,” she said as Harte dragged it back up onto its unsteady feet, “are all going to react like this?”
“We’ve got to assume so,” Hollis answered.
“Dear God,” mumbled Martin, covering his mouth in disbelief.
“Get rid of it,” Gordon said, backing off. “Please…”
Harte let go of the corpse and it staggered away for a few steps farther. He watched it for a moment, long enough for it to clumsily turn back around and start moving toward him again, then he barged it into the pool. The Swimmer waved its arms furiously, its frantic, uncoordinated movements keeping it afloat for a final few seconds before it was sucked below the surface. Martin watched until it was just a dark, unfocused shape on the bottom of the pool. Damn thing was still moving. Even down there, the damn thing was still moving …
48
“Helicopter,” Sean said simply, pointing out of Jas’s bedroom window, then turning and heading for the door.
Jas looked up. He was right. There, crawling across a dull sky peppered with gray and white clouds, was the helicopter again. He was sure it was the same one they’d seen previously. He scanned the skies behind it, desperately looking for the plane which had followed every time they’d seen it yesterday, hoping he’d see it again and disprove his evacuation theory. He stared up into the sky for what felt like forever but it wasn’t there. His heart sank. He was certain that meant they were running out of time.
“Aren’t you coming down?” Harte asked. Sean had already disappeared. Jas shook his head and remained sitting on the end of his bed, cradling a drink in his hands.
“No point,” he replied sadly. “I can stay up here and watch them fly away, no need to waste energy running downstairs to do it. Anyway,” he said, taking another swig of his drink, “they’ll be back later.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“And?”
Jas wearily got up and walked over to the window just in time to see the helicopter bank left before completely disappearing from view. “And the fact that the plane hasn’t come back this time tells me I’m probably right. First time it flew over yesterday it went from east to west, then it came back, then it did the same again. I said from the start I thought these people were packing up and moving out. Maybe two plane loads was enough to get them all away, and the fact they made so many trips so quickly yesterday kind of proves the point. I think the helicopter’s back to mop up anyone or anything they left behind.”
“So what are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is I think this might be the last time they’ll pass by. Another couple of flights at most, but I think this is it. They’ll fly back when they’ve done what they need to do and we won’t see them again.”
“You might be wrong.”
“I hope I am.”
Harte paused for a moment to consider the other man’s logic. His explanation seemed feasible. “So do you think it was the military or the government?”
“No idea. Probably neither. I doubt there’s anything like that left anywhere. No, I just think it’s a bunch of lucky fuckers who’ve struck gold. They’ve got someone who can fly so now they’re off to find somewhere where there are no bodies, no germs, and no arseholes like Webb and Martin.”
“I get the idea.”
Jas finished his can of beer and leaned against the window. Martin, Ginnie, and the others were outside now, standing around their pathetic message on the lawn, trying not to feel completely fucking useless. He turned his attention to the ever-growing crowd of bodies in the field over the road. Even now, even after they’d all done as they’d agreed and kept quiet since Sean and Webb had returned yesterday evening, still more of them were continuing to drag themselves back from the golf course. There had to be almost a thousand there now, maybe double that number, and they showed no signs of reducing. Who was to say the whole damn lot weren’t about to turn tail and start moving away from the music in some kind of bizarre slow-motion stampede? A few hundred breaking away weren’t a massive concern, but a few thousand … now that was a different matter.
“We need to do something,” he announced, the tone of his voice suddenly more positive and definite. “Sitting
