There was a hint of emotion in Jas’s face. A momentary flicker.
“I didn’t kill him,” he said, sounding marginally less aggressive. “He fell on his knife.”
“And you expect us to believe that?”
“I don’t really care what you believe. I’m not interested.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Would somebody tell me what the hell is going on?” Michael said. “Who are these jokers?”
“This is Jas,” Lorna replied, confirming his suspicions and almost having to force herself to spit out his name. “And this other useless strip of piss is Mark Ainsworth.”
Another explosion came from the direction of the burning apartment block, this time so loud and violent that Michael felt the ground shake beneath his feet.
“So where are your playmates, Jas?” Caron asked, being deliberately antagonistic. “Are you two all on your own now? Have they all abandoned you?”
She didn’t realize how close to the truth she was.
“They’ve gone, useless bastards,” Jas admitted before adding, “and it looks like they’ve taken your places on the last boat out to your precious bloody island.”
Michael reeled from what he’d just heard. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It was bad enough that he was left stranded here, but the thought that this callous, murdering wanker’s associates—probably the same fuckers who were responsible for all the grief back at the castle earlier, putting everyone’s lives in danger made it back to Cormansey when he hadn’t was unbearable. He pushed his way through the others and lunged at Jas, taking him by surprise. He grabbed him by the collar and smacked him up against the window of a health food shop. Inside, a corpse immediately began hammering at the glass to be set free. For a moment Jas seemed more concerned by the dead body behind him than by Michael.
“Was that all your doing down at the marina?” Michael demanded. “Did you wreck all the boats?”
“So what if I did?”
Michael didn’t have a chance to speak again. Jas was too strong for him. Powerfully built and fired-up, he forced Michael back, shoved him to the ground, and aimed the rifle into his face.
“Don’t be stupid, Jas,” Lorna yelled, trying to pull him away. Michael scrambled back up onto his feet, but Jas came at him again, this time kicking his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, flat on his back, all the air knocked out of him. Lorna forced herself between the two men as Jas went for him a third time.
“Stop, Jas,” Ainsworth said, but his words had no effect.
“Leave him,” Lorna ordered. “You stupid bastard, Jas. He’s got a kid waiting to be born on that island. You’ve taken away his last chance of getting back there.”
“He’s better off here,” Jas replied as Ainsworth tried to pull him away. “The kid’s as good as dead, anyway.”
Michael groaned with anger and pain and stood back up. Lorna blocked him, stopping him from getting any closer.
A corpse brushed past Jas. He tried to load the rifle but his hands were shaking. Instead he swung it around and clubbed the stumbling body away.
“You all think I’m some kind of villain,” he said, trying again to load and now looking around at the frightened faces staring back at him—people he’d called friends at one time or other before now. “I’m not. I didn’t want for any of this to happen. Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t kill Jackson either, I swear…”
He stopped talking when the air was filled with another thunderous noise. For a second several of them thought it might be the helicopter returning, but it was quickly clear that this was something else entirely. Howard took a few steps back toward the main street, sidestepping several more cadavers, and saw that a billowing cloud of dust and smoke was rolling steadily toward them. The air felt hot and dry. Had part of the apartment building collapsed? It was impossible to tell, but the flames were spreading fast. Through the haze he could see more of the dead continuing to stagger forward, the farthest advanced of them catching fire long before they reached the burning apartments.
Harte and Kieran came running out of the chaos toward him. “We need to get out of here,” Harte shouted, wiping tears from his stinging eyes. “The whole bloody town’s going to go up in flames.”
He stopped speaking when he saw the expression on Howard&x2019;s face.
“Harte…” Howard started to say.
“What is it?” Harte demanded. He continued around the corner and saw Jas. Jas saw him too, and immediately raised the rifle and aimed it at him. And then Kieran appeared, and Harte was immediately forgotten. Jas directed the full force of his anger at him instead.
“You sold me out, you fucker!” he screamed, charging into Kieran and sending him flying. He aimed the rifle at him and Kieran staggered back, tripping on the curb and landing on his backside.
“You were wrong, Jas,” he said, barely able to get the words out.
“Jesus,” Lorna shouted, “is there anyone you’re not pissed off with? Doesn’t that tell you something? Like, that
Jas glared at her, but was distracted as another random body collided with him. He recoiled, shoving the foul thing away. It continued to try and move toward him, trying to get to the fire in the distance, but Jas misinterpreted its actions as an attack. He forced the rifle up into the creatures gaping mouth and fired, splattering what was left of its brains over the pavement in a firework-like shower of dark brown gore. He spun around and saw another cadaver walking listlessly toward him, and fired again. This time he hit the cadaver in the right shoulder. It collapsed, but immediately tried to drag itself forward with its one remaining good arm. He clubbed the back of its head with the butt of his rifle.
“Jas, stop!” Harte shouted, but his words had no effect.
“They’re coming!” he screamed, the panic in his voice now clearly evident. The collapsing building had clearly attracted the attention of many more of the creatures, and another surge of dead flesh was now advancing toward them.
“They might be coming,” Harte said, still trying to stop him, “but they’re not coming for you, you idiot. Haven’t you worked it out yet? The dead aren’t our enemy. They’re as scared and as lost as we are.”
Jas spun around again. Another corpse, and another shot to the face. This time Ainsworth tried to stop him, grabbing the barrel of the rifle. In Jas’s panic and confusion, his trigger finger tightened and he fired. Ainsworth was blown backward. He collided with a corpse, then dropped to the ground, a bloody gaping hole in his chest.
“What the hell have you done?” Lorna demanded, standing over Ainsworth’s twitching body, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. Wisps of smoke rose from around the edges of his wound. She didn’t need to get any closer to know he was dead. She looked up and saw the others moving farther away from Jas, who was reloading the rifle with another handful of shells from his pocket. “What happened to you, Jas?”
“The last three months happened,” he replied, still looking for his next target. He aimed and fired at another cadaver, then another and another … The rest of the living scattered as he reloaded again, regrouping around the back of a garbage truc. Harte tried to call to Lorna from the truck, but she wasn’t listening. She was still crouched next to Ainsworth’s lifeless body. Jas fired at yet another cadaver.
“The last three months have fucked us all up,” she said, “but I thought you were better than this. It didn’t have to be this way. You, me, the dead … we’re all victims, you know. It’s not about us versus them or you versus me, it’s just about us all trying to survive.”
“I know that,” he said, lowering the rifle momentarily. “I know that better than anyone. I’ve been trying to tell you, you won’t survive on that island, it’s a dead end. You should stay here. You should stay here with me.”
Lorna stood up and walked over, terrified that at any moment he was going to lift his weapon and start firing again, but still feeling a need to try and talk to him. She thought he sounded desperate. She glanced back along the street, and in the distance she could see the glow of the flames. The warm wind continued to gust toward them, fanning the fire and helping it spread with remarkable speed.
“We have to go,” she said, gently putting her hand on his arm. “It’s not safe here.”
His voice cracked. “It’s not safe anywhere. Don’t go to the island, Lorna. Please don’t.”
He pushed her away, his sudden, unexpected movement taking her by surprise, and then fired another shot into the smoke. She saw a body go down, visible only when it hit the ground.
“I know you’re scared,” she said, hiding behind him now as yet more of the dead approached in greater
