Contagion

Jack pulled himself into a sitting position between Sparky and Rhali, and Lucy-Anne was pressed against the door beside Rhali.

“Is he…?” she asked.

Jack leaned forward to look over the seats, terrified of what he might see. But Hayden stared up at him with wide eyes.

“He’s OK. Jenna, you need to change gear.”

“What?”

“You need to—”

“I haven’t got a clue how to drive so just shut up and let me get on with it.”

“Ease on the gas, foot on the clutch, slip into—” Sparky began.

“Shut the hell up!” she shouted. Remaining in second gear she drifted them wide into the ramp to the next level, rebounding from the wall again with a sickening crunch and a laboured screech of tearing metal.

“It’s okay,” Sparky said. “We don’t need the bumper. Bumpers are overrated.”

“Where the hell are those things?” Lucy-Anne asked. Jack twisted in his seat and looked behind at the shapes loping after them.

“Not finished yet,” he said.

“Mate, can’t you do anything?” Sparky asked.

“If I need to,” Jack said. “But—”

It must have been on the car roof. Sitting there, planning, scheming, trying to figure out how best to get at the food inside. And the best way was to put their best defence out of action. Jack saw a flurry of movement, heard the dull whisper of strengthened glass breaking into countless pieces, and felt Sparky lean into him as he cringed away from the thrashing limb that swung into the car.

Then the impact across his face, and no more.

Blood splashed across Lucy-Anne’s face. It was a sickening warmth that quickly faded to cool, and she knew that Jack was dead.

Rhali screamed. Jack slumped to the side and rested against her, bleeding on her, and she started hyperventilating, trying to shove him away and hold his face at the same time.

“Jesus Christ!” Jenna shouted, because she’d seen everything in the rearview mirror.

“Drive!” Lucy-Anne shouted. She could taste Jack’s blood when she opened her mouth. “Just fucking drive, Jenna!” If they stopped now—if they let those things get into the car—Jack was no longer here to do anything to help them.

Jack was no longer here…

She couldn’t dwell on that, and neither could she check him out to make sure. Sparky was struggling and he needed her help, and really, everything might depend on her. Everything. Because Hayden was crying and gibbering in the front seat, and Rhali could only look at the bloody mess that had been Jack’s face.

Not yet, not yet, Lucy-Anne thought. I’ll look in a minute. I’ll try to find my best friend’s pulse in a minute.

Sparky had grasped the thing’s limbs and was holding it up against the ceiling, pushing with all his might. It was dark and shiny like a beetle’s carapace, ending in a sharp pincer-like arrangement that was even now shredding Sparky’s shirtsleeve and the car’s fabric ceiling. The thing was scrabbling up on the roof trying to maintain its purchase, and as Jenna swung them down another ramp and bounced from another wall, the limbs shifted position as the creature slid.

Lucy-Anne leaned across Rhali and Jack and thrust her hand into Sparky’s jeans pocket. She worked her fingers against the folds and creases and found the knife, tugging it out, ripping the material, opening the blade, and without even looking at Sparky she leaned further over him and started slashing at the limb where it entered the window. Shoulder or elbow she couldn’t quite figure out, but the thing squealed in agony as black blood spattered down across her forearm.

“Sparky!” she shouted. He heaved the limb back towards the window and then let go. The creature slid from the roof and bounced from the boot, squirming and thrashing when it struck the ground.

“Floor it!” Lucy-Anne screamed. She sat back against the door with the knife still in her hand, and realised that the thing’s blood stank.

“Jack?” Jenna asked.

“Get us out of here or we’ll all be dead!”

“Dead?” Rhali said. She spoke softly, but even above the car’s labouring engine they all heard. It was a word that broke through such noise.

Lucy-Anne looked at Jack again, nervous, her heart fluttering. His face was a bloody mess.

“Just drive,” she said.

Jenna seemed to become more confident. Though she did not attempt to change gear, and the engine screamed as she floored the gas between floors, she took the ramps more successfully, avoiding any more jarring impacts with the walls. On the third floor one of the tyres blew out and the car slewed sideways, but Jenna fought with the wheel and straightened them again. On the second floor she crashed into a Ford that protruded from the parking bays. The impact almost stalled the Mazda, but she slammed her foot on the gas, wheels screaming, the stench of burning rubber accompanying them as the Ford was shoved sideways and their car scraped past.

“Where are they?” Sparky said. He was looking behind them, ahead, and leaning cautiously sideways to peer from the shattered side window.

“Given up the chase?” Lucy-Anne asked.

“Maybe,” he said. But they all remained on edge as they drove out from the shadowed car park into daylight.

“Too noisy,” Lucy-Anne said. “Let’s get a street away then dump the car.”

“And we’ll have to see to Jack,” Sparky said. He was taking his first good look at his friend, and Lucy-Anne could see his fear.

“How is he?” Jenna asked. She kept glancing in the mirror. The car engine screamed in second gear. Hayden gibbered in the front seat.

Rhali stroked Jack’s brow, and his face bled.

Her illness washing through her, Nomad raised her head and looked around. The tank was static and terrible. The wires and fail-safes glowed menacingly all around the display hall. All was silent.

“Jack,” she said. She gasped, because something had changed. But whatever the change, Jack had made his choice.

And there was always Lucy-Anne.

CHAPTER TWELVE FIVE

In darkness and nothing, Jack thought he was with the monsters.

He had an awareness of who he was but not why he was here. He wanted to call his friends, but could not remember their names. He floated, or sank, or rose through darkness so complete that it had form and solidity. It was like swimming in black water, but here he could breathe.

The taste on his tongue was blood.

After an unknown time he started to make out a glow in the distance. At first it was a smudge on the night, a sheen in the blackness. He moved towards it, out of the stark nothingness where there were monsters, and it started to take on form. Countless points of light manifested, like sprinkles of salt on a black sheet the size of a field. The closer he approached, the clearer the image became, and the larger and more malevolent the deep blackness behind him.

That’s my universe. His words were comforting. And as he thought them, the spread of light expanded rapidly until it filled his field of vision and he was inside it, enveloped and part of the light himself, and the blackness was banished to the distance.

Yet he still did not feel safe. He passed through this place that was his, and just off-centre was a warm red