If they’d had two radios, he could have given one to Kingsley before he left. Eric would’ve liked to have had a way to communicate with him in case he changed his mind – which, admittedly, was unlikely to happen. Stubborn bastard.
But no. Kingsley was gone, and Eric needed to start thinking about what their next move should be.
He considered how useful the homeware, garden and DIY stores near the railway might be when setting up a base for their long-term survival. Provided they hadn’t been looted clean, they would have ample materials for barricading and generators for when the national grid eventually stopped supplying power. The garden stores would have seed and fertiliser for crops, which they needed to start planting right away; many items of fresh fruit and veg were quick to spoil, and although they did have canned and dried options, those weren’t as nutrient-rich.
Without a balanced diet, their immune systems and energy levels would suffer. It was something they needed to start thinking about now if they wanted to prevail in the long run.
The thought of fruit made Eric’s stomach grumble, so he stopped to fish a slightly squashed, over-ripe banana from the duffel, peeled it and ate as he continued walking.
Soon they were back at the bus. They turned the street corner to go round the rear of the bus – and stopped. The banana dropped from Eric’s hand.
Sammy was right in front of him. She was alive, she was here… but there were three men with her, one of them standing behind Sammy with a knife to her throat.
The man holding the knife gave an ugly, snarling grin.
E P I S O D E F O U R
Rescue
1.
There was no time to feel the relief that the sight of Sammy standing in front of them, alive, should have brought. Because the man holding a knife to her throat – Sammy’s own pocket knife, Eric realised – clearly hadn’t kidnapped her only to bring her back to them for a happy reunion.
The memory of Sammy leaving her pocket knife on top of James’ body in the flat came back to him as he looked at the weapon, and the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in his head.
“Figured out who I am, yet?” the man said, his voice raspy, loud, full of impatience. Eric got the impression that the man wasn’t used to raising his voice and shouting at people, that he was straining to make sure he was heard. Nevertheless, he had a blade at Sammy’s throat and Eric wasn’t going to question whether or not he would use it. His bloodshot eyes were manic.
Rebecca shot an incredulous look at Eric. “What is this?” She narrowed her eyes and turned them to the man with the knife. “Why should he know who you are? What’s going on?”
“Haven’t they told you about the man they murdered?” Sammy’s captor asked, addressing Rebecca. “In Braintree, your friends here – and the other one, the curly-haired prick, wherever he is – went into the flat of a man named Darren and stabbed him in the neck. I’m guessing it was because he took care of your mate who was bitten. Am I correct?”
Eric nodded, frowning. “His name was James. We didn’t know what the bites did to people then, and we were angry when he shot him.”
“What are your names?”
“Eric,” he said, then pointed to the women. “Kara and Rebecca.” He didn’t know why the man wanted to know it, but there was no point lying. The more they could humanise themselves, the more chance there was of the man empathising with them.
“I’m Mark, and these two guys next to me are Sebastian and John; we were a team, us three and Darren. He took us into his flat when we were in trouble and saved us from the snappers. He was a good person.”
Eric could see someone else sitting in the van, but he couldn’t see their face because of the reflection of the bright, cloudy sky in the window and Mark blocking his view. He wondered why Mark hadn’t mentioned this other person.
Who were they?
Her police training kicking in, Kara cleared her throat and spoke in a calm, clear voice.
“Whatever it is you want from us, we will do it. Just don’t hurt her. You have our compliance.” Raising one hand, Kara drew her police baton, squatted and placed it on the road by her feet, then straightened. She stared pointedly at Rebecca and Eric to do the same with their weapons, and they did.
“What do you want?” Eric asked as tears rolled down Sammy’s grimy cheeks.
“We want what’s ours, Eric. The weapons and supplies you took from the flat, all of them.”
Eric gestured to the duffel bag, backpack and chain mace he’d placed on the ground, the machete Rebecca had dropped and the rest of the supplies in hers and Kara’s bags. “It’s all there, apart from the food and drink we’ve already used.”
Mark’s gaze wandered over the bags and weapons. Then he shook his head.
“Where’s the crossbow? Has your curly-haired mate got it? Where the fuck is he? You better not be trying something with me or I swear—”
“Mark?” Sebastian interrupted him. The guy was pointing down the road at a cluster of snappers moving in their direction. “We’ve got company.”
The survivors stared at the sizable group of snappers. In their preoccupation, they’d failed to notice the sound that drifted on the wind of teeth gnashing at nothing and shoes scuffing on tarmac. The undead were already too close.
Had they left the engine of the butcher’s van on for too long or was it Mark’s shouting that had attracted them?
There were enough snappers that
