Chapter 18
With extreme care, I edge nearer the junction that leads onto Bayswater Road. The normally busy thoroughfare that carries traffic into the shopping mecca of Oxford Street and the West End only carries the mangled shells of burnt-out cars. Battle noise travels up to me, making me more cautious. As I reach the junction, it is obvious in which direction the action is taking place—on my right, west, further along Bayswater Road or just past it in Notting Hill Gate.
I have a decision to make, either stay on the built-up side of the road with its hotels and embassies or cross the road, to the Hyde Park side. The Hyde Park side looks more inviting with the trees and greenery behind the border fence, but it could easily hide Rabids in its leaves.
There is no contest as I peer down Bayswater Road. The built-up side has bodies and other obstacles filling the pavement and gutter. The buildings that line the street are scorched by fire, with window broken and doors gaping open. No thank you, I’ll take the other side of the road.
Rising from my covering position at the junction, I go to move and cross the road. I glimpse it out of the corner of my eye, on my left like a shadow. At first, my brain processes the image as a tall man running across the junction—and for a split second, I delay, but it is not a man. A giant Rabid, by far the biggest I’ve seen, flashes towards me at tremendous speed. Fear and reflex take over and I whip around, my M4 turning quickly with me as I bring the rifle to bear on the target. My split-second delay has cost me dearly, however, the rifle turning too slowly to get a shot away. The Rabid slams me back off my feet and we both hit the ground, the M4 pointing at nothing but air. I scramble to recover myself as gravity directs the Rabid to the side of my body. I am nowhere near quick enough; the Rabid’s scramble is quicker and it springs onto me, its powerful arms pushing down onto my arms’ biceps. The massive beast pins me down, its ugly head floating above mine. I struggle uselessly to free myself, hardly noticing its depraved stink, but I can’t break the Rabids’ unrelenting grip. Petrified and unable to move, all I can do is look with fear into the terrifying eyes of my assailant and wait for its teeth to strike.
The Rabids’ mouth starts to open, its infested yellow teeth getting ready to slice into me. My eyes locked with the creature, it stares at me, studying its prey. The beast’s head tilts back, its mouth opening further and then the head comes swiftly down into my face and it screams an ear-piercing high-pitched screech an inch away from me. Its hot breath and spittle shower my screwed-up face as my eardrums threaten to burst. I wait for the inevitable pain of its teeth ripping into me, my fear rising, but it doesn’t come.
My arms feel the giant Rabids’ claw-like grip loosen around my arms, and it then pushes against them. The Rabids’ weight almost crushes my arms as it hurls itself up and off me, jumping to its feet. Before I can react, it runs off, careering down the road in the direction of the sound of fighting.
The beast has deadened my arms, they feel weak and floppy; without looking, I know my biceps have already started to bruise. What just happened, and why didn’t it bite? It had me powerless in its grip. The temptation to lie on my back to rest and recover, to think more about the reason, is strong. I can’t though, I’m too exposed, my stomach muscles manage to pull me up into a sitting position. With some feeling returning to my arms, my left hand moves to my face, to wipe off the remnants of the Rabids’ spittle from it as best it can, in the hope the vile smell will go with it too.
An idea starts to form in my head as my arms feebly help me to my feet again. An explanation as to why the Rabid didn’t bite. I churn it over in my brain as I bring the M4 up so that I, at least, have a chance of defending myself if I’m attacked again. Out in the open, I find a hold point and move to it, finally making it across the road. An Apache Attack helicopter powers over my head from behind, heading straight down the road. I barely hear it as my ears recover from the Rabid’s assault, but I welcome the sight of it.
Do the Rabids think I am one of them? Do they take me for a Zombie? I had assumed the female Rabid in the stairwell at Orion hadn’t attacked me because it was alone in the dark or because there was something wrong with it. It was the same with the young infected girl in the street earlier. She didn’t attack me because she didn’t see me; she looked straight at me for fuck’s sake. Can they smell me as I smell them now? I couldn’t smell them so easily before I was scratched, I am sure of that.
I was attacked by the hoard in Orion, yes, but I started that episode. The building was nice and quiet, until I started shooting; that caused the commotion and they reacted to it. There was no other reason for the giant Rabid not to bite, to take its pound of flesh. Was his display a display of power to show me he is the alpha, the king of the jungle?
My mind reels as I try
