numbers, “and I don’t pretend to understand why you did what you did, but your best chance is to come with us now and try to get to Cormansey. There’s no future for any of us here, but there might still be on the island.”
“You think?” he said, taking aim again. “You all think I killed Jackson. You
“I know that, and we can put it behind us. It might be a struggle on the island, but—”
“I’m not going,” he said abruptly. He fired once more.
“But this is madness. Come on, Jas, you’re confused. Think about Michael … he’s going to be a dad. What would you be doing if your kids were still alive? Would you have wanted them to stay here, or would you have wanted them to go to the island?”
Jas instinctively pressed his palm to his chest, feeling for the outline of his precious wallet under several layers of clothing. But then another group of bodies stumbled into view and he tried to fire again. The rifle was empty. Lorna tried to pull him away but he shrugged her off and marched toward the nearest corpse and clubbed it to the ground. Then another. Then another. And now he was surrounded. The slow trickle of bodies emerging had become an unsteady flood, more and more of them approaching all the time, attracted both by the distant flames and Jas’s bluster.
Once more Lorna tried to pull him back but he just pushed her away, desperate to destroy every last one of the foul, disease-ridden cadavers which now seemed to be converging on him. There were scores of them everywhere he looked now: some limping, some crawling, some barely moving at all. Some were still nearly recognizable as people, others were little more than gelatinous heaps of decay that were somehow still able to function. Jas felt his legs weaken. He was surrounded, more of them approaching than he could deal with alone. He glanced back over his shoulder, looking for help, but even more bodies had sealed him off, preventing him from seeing Lorna now. She could still see him—just—and was poised to run deeper into the crowd to try and drag him away when Harte grabbed her from behind and pulled her to safety behind the garbage truck.
“Leave him,” he said.
“We can’t…”
“We can. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”
He stood back and she saw that Hollis was slumped on the floor, resting up against a grubby shop window. His clothes were soaked with blood. Lorna couldn’t process what she was seeing. She tried to talk, but no words came out. Caron was sitting by Hollis’s side, gently stroking his arm. She stood up and held Lorna.
“He got caught in the shooting,” she explained. “We didn’t even realize he’d been hit…”
Lorna crouched down next to Hollis. He looked up at her, his filthy face streaked with tears. There was blood on his lips.
“I know I don’t look so good these days,” he said, his voice hard to hear, “but I didn’t think Jas would mistake me for one of them.”
“Oh, Greg…” she said.
“You lot go on,” he mumbled, blood bubbling. “I’ll never make it.”
“He’s right,” Harte said. “We need to go.”
“What’s the point?” Lorna demanded, sobbing. The tears carved clean lines through the dirt and soot on her cheeks. “Let’s face it, we’re fucked.”
“Bloody hell,” Hollis said, forcing a grin. “Things must be bad if you reckon we’re fucked.”
“Just being realistic, that’s all.”
“Realistic!” Harte protested. “Christ, Lor, we’ve spent three months trying to avoid the walking dead, hiding in castles and hotels and the like, and you decide today’s the day to start talking about being
“He’s got a point,” Kieran agreed.
“But we can’t just leave Hollis…”
“Yes, you can,” Hollis said. “Go, Lorna. Get out of here.”
“No…”
Hollis managed to lift his head slightly and looked up at Harte, who acknowledged his friend.
“Come on,” Harte said, gently picking Lorna up. She shook him off, wanting to say good-bye to Hollis, but she realized it was too late. She’d seen enough death to know there was no life left in his tired, glassy eyes.
Harte peered out around the front of the garbage truck. There were more corpses now—an incalculable number. The mass of dead bodies still trudging down the street toward the fire in the distance was undiminished, an unstoppable thick brown river of decay now. There was no sign of Jas; he’d long since been swallowed up. The bulk of the corpses seemed to be coming from the direction of the station, and the road to the car park was still relatively clear.
“What do you reckon?” Howard asked.
“Sprint for the car park,” he replied. “It’s our only option. Got to get up there and hope Richard turns up before the whole bloody town burns down.”
They grouped together, ready to move.
“Wait,” Caron said, looking around. “Where’s Michael?”
59
Michael was waiting for them at the entrance to the car park.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kieran asked.
Michael answered with his own question. “Who’s missing?”
“Hollis is dead,” Lorna replied. “Shot.”
“And Jas?”
“He’s dead too, presumably. We lost him in all those bodies.”
Michael nodded.
“Did you have something to do with that?” Howard asked. “What did you do?”
“It wasn’t just about him, you know,” he explained. “All I did was open up the station. I saw hundreds of them trapped there when I first came to this place. Figured I should let them out before we leave.”
“
“I just wanted your friend Jas to get an idea of what he would really be up against if he stayed here.”
Lorna shook her head and started to climb, not sure whether she believed Michael. She took Caron’s hand and led her up the corkscrew-shaped road. What they were going to do when they reached the roof, however, she had no idea.
0em' w'0em' width='2em' align='justify'>They climbed over a plum-colored Mini which had crashed into a barrier, then stopped on the third floor of five and peered down into the streets below. The town was steadily filling with fire, building after building being eaten up by the heat and light. But somehow the position didn’t look as bad from up here as it had down at ground level. The fire hadn’t made as much progress as they’d feared. Michael was relieved; they’d have a good few hours before they’d need to move again.
Howard peered over the edge and looked directly down. Closer to the entrance to the car park he could see the station which Michael had opened up. Even now there was a massive column of bodies trying to escape. They played a bizarre game of follow-the-leader as they spilled out onto the street and walked toward the red-hot devastation in the distance.
And then, just for a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of Jas, still fighting in the midst of the chaos. It was impossible to be sure from up here, such was the extent of the dead masses which filled the street outside the car park. Was it really him, or had it just been more corpses reacting to each other? It was gone again in just a few seconds.
In the distance Kieran could see the farthest advanced of the bodies burning up, and he watched them with an unexpected mix of emotions: relief, first and foremost, that the time of the dead was finally coming to an end. These were undoubtedly their final days, their final hours perhaps. He also felt an undeniable sense of achievement that he’d made it through to see this moment—that he’d survived when so many millions of others hadn’t. And, strangely, he also felt pleased that, one way or another, everyone’s suffering would soon be over—living and dead alike. He understood why Michael had done what he’d done.
