Salby book 2 salby evolu.., p.4
Salby (Book 2): Salby Evolution, page 4
The store had a massive, multi-departmental, open plan layout. A quick look around yielded no movement farther in, but it was simply too big to see every aisle. I kept low, stayed close to the rows of stock stacked to the roof, practically crawling down the first aisle, which only had sheets of board, corrugated plastics, and external building supplies.
Above my head, printed board signage swung on wire arms, fanned by the air conditioning units in the ceiling. My eyes locked onto the ‘Tools’ board, and I duly turned right as the arrow indicated. The aisle was clear. A few empty boxes lay on the floor in the middle, a trolley full of replenishment stock left abandoned. No sign of the staff. As I moved down the aisle, my first find was a hefty-looking monkey bar. Used primarily for leverage, the solid steel bar, a little over a metre long, could come in handy. I made a mental note of its position so as to pick it up before I left.
A little farther along stood a display of numerous knives. I picked two; one with a long, lockable, folding blade and a razor-sharp box cutter. Quickly, I stuffed both into my back pockets. In the same section, a sturdy backpack tool bag hung next to protective clothing items; I grabbed it, adjusted the straps, and slung it over my shoulder. It was easy to get carried away, forget the situation. As my confidence grew, in the absence of any sound or the presence of anyone else in the store, I stood to enable faster progress and access to the higher shelves. I loaded a few more items into my new backpack, and casually strolled to the next aisle.
The face glared down at me, and his eyes carried an accusatory look which sent a chill right through me. He said nothing, nor did he move. The trident-style garden fork which pinned him to a rack of wood had long since taken his ability to speak … or breathe. According to his name badge, he would have been Mike Stanning—Store Manager. Clearly, my day paled in comparison to his.
Instantly I crouched once more. Whoever, or whatever did that to him would need to have been powerful. Mike wasn’t a small man. I held my breath and parted my lips slightly to allow me to hear as much as possible, yet no sound came to me.
I slowly edged back the way I’d come, back towards the long iron monkey bar that caught my attention earlier.
With it firmly in my grasp, I rounded the opposite end of the aisle, away from Mike, towards the bedroom furniture section of the store.
This wasn’t good, not good at all.
My casual shoes squealed an introduction on the laminate flooring, even though I did my best to limit the sound as much as possible. A noise to my right snapped my head around, cocked towards a chunky oak, double-door wardrobe. As I edged closer to it, I used the tip of the iron bar to tap the doors.
“You’d best come out of there really slowly or so help me, I’ll crack your head.” I warned.
No movement, just a muffled whimper met my warning.
“I’ll not ask again. Come out, or by God, you’ll wish you had.” I swallowed the courage back down hard to prevent it from escaping me. The tip of the bar shook as I raised it in preparation, and, holding it high over my head ready to strike, I grabbed at the turned knob and yanked the door wide. My actions prompted a loud, shrill scream of sheer panic, though not from me.
“Ahhhheeeeeeee! Don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me! Are you one of them? Please, please—” the petrified woman cried. She cowered in the corner of the unopened side of the wardrobe, her hands shook about her face as she sobbed through her panic.
What could I do?
“Hey, hey, easy now. It’s okay. Look, I’ll put the bar down. I’m not going to hurt you, see. What do you mean by ‘one of them,’ one of who?” I asked, in an attempt to get the woman to calm herself and talk to me.
She spread her fingers to look me in the eye. Seconds ticked by before she pushed open the door, carefully pulling herself out and up, though she shied away from my extended hand.
“My name’s Simon,” I blabbed, not really knowing how else to react to her.
“I—I’m Barbara, though my friends call me Barbie, that’s if I have any friends left,” she added, amid shuddered sobs.
“Barbie, it is. You’re okay now. What happened here? How long have you been in there?” My questions came too fast for her and I could see her beginning to panic at her own recall. “Okay, forget it for now. We need to get out of here, away from this place, somewhere safe we can talk. Okay? Can you walk?” I asked.
She nodded.
I appraised her and could see why her shortened name was appropriate. I estimated that Barbie was in her late twenties, with a figure to match that of the plastic doll of her namesake—even in the dowdy store uniform. Long, golden hair flowed to at least the top of her shapely bottom. She edged towards me, still cautious, and I couldn’t blame her.
I glanced at my reflection in a mirrored wall panel to my left. My face was bloodied from the appointment with the tarmac earlier, my once clean jeans now had patches of muck and mud smeared everywhere, and an open tear in my T-shirt revealed a long, thin, angry-looking scratch to my side.
“I look a mess, sorry. We need to move,” I stated, lowering my gaze.
“It’s okay. Where will we go?”
“Somewhere safe. Away from potentially crowded places. I need you to tell me what you know, what you’ve seen and heard,” I urged.
“I can’t leave the store. The manager will fire me,” she panicked, still in shock it seemed.
“Oh, you mean Mike? He’s not going to give a shit, Barbie. Trust me on this,” I reassured her. I bent to pick up the iron bar and adjust the backpack, ready to move. “Stay close to me, keep your eyes peeled and if you see anything move, you sing out. You hear me?”
“Yes. Did the manager leave?”
“Yes, Barbie. He left a while back. Don’t worry about him, okay?” I took bold steps forwards in an attempt to end that line of questioning. She didn’t need to know either of his death, or his current whereabouts.
We passed through the gardening tools section, and the fork that protruded from Mike’s chest flashed into my mind. I stopped, picked up a similar one from the rack and handed it to Barbara. “Take this, use it if you must,” I urged, a little too matter-of-factly.
“You mean kill them, right?”
“Barbie, it’s them or us. And I know that you know what I mean by ‘them.’”
“You’ve seen them too?”
“I’ve had the day from hell so far—a man in a crashed car, a schoolboy, and a big fella outside with a penchant for throwing people through windows, intent on havoc. Tell me about it. I just want to see my kids, that’s all. Not too much to ask, is it? What have you seen?” I took the opportunity to keep her talking; she may have seen things that could help us both.
“I only work part-time. I’m a medical student, at uni most of the time, but I need the job to help pay for my studies. I got to work late today, around ten-ish. The boss gave me a right roasting and told me to clean up the display areas. That’s what I was doing when the first of them came into the store.” She paused, as an involuntary shiver consumed her.
“Go on,” I urged, keen to hear her story.
She painted a grim picture of her day as she described the people she had seen, and the chaos which had swarmed through the shopping complex and compelled her to hide in the wardrobe.
We made our way back to the front of the store. On a makeshift display stand, cunningly low to entice the attentions of the younger generation, several toys were laid out. I grabbed one from the boys’ side, one from the girls’, and placed them into the backpack.
It had been less than ten minutes since I entered. The breaker switch clicked the electrical lifeblood back into the sliding doors, which responded as we activated the sensor. Instantly, I looked across the car park as I tried to spot the woman I thought could be Charlotte. She was nowhere to be seen. I silently cursed and hoped she’d found safety—before a horrifying thought hit me.
What if the kids were with her? Surely, they would be in school?
I purged the notion from my mind and prayed it wasn’t my ex-wife.
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Barbie questioned.
“What? Yes, sorry, I’m fine. I thought I saw someone earlier that I knew is all. She’s gone now though. Come on, we need a car. Stay low between the rows until I find one that’s open.”
“Toys for your kids?”
“I’ll tell you about it later, stay close, and keep your head down.” I warned.
5 – The Bells
Three months later, Tenerife, Spain, 27th June 2014, 2000 hours.
The hotel cuisine really was something to behold as course after course arrived at the table. Every so often, Nathan stole a glance at Evie, his feelings of desire not quelled by the company or environment. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes, the wisps of hair seductively resting on her shoulders, full lips beautifully accented as her expressions acknowledged the chatter. Her mouth formed a discreet smile as her eyes caught him in the act. Rumbled. They both laughed at the moment, which prompted a quizzical look from Stewey and Alisa.
“It’s nothing—just a thought,” Nathan said, in reassurance.
“So how’s the new role going then?” Stewey asked.
“Oh, you mean as an inspector of shale gas fracking companies which seem to be springing up everywhere?” Nathan quipped.
“Aye, that. Quite a fancy title for a reporter, isn’t it?” Stewey teased.
“It is that. Not so bad working with Brian Goulding, though. He knows his stuff; I’ll give him that much. Since his appointment from the Shale Gas Fracking Corporation, and its subsequent collapse, he’s proved invaluable. His personnel file didn’t lie, he’s an experienced engineer, dedicated to what he does. Since the outbreak, the companies have locked down their safety precautions, tightened up procedures and appear to be taking effective measures. Brian is keen on the training and development of staff, to ensure that we never face anything like it again.”
The mere mention of the outbreak brought a silence to the table, as each of them mentally recalled their own experiences of it.
“What happened to that young corporal, what was her name, Simms?” Evie asked.
“Aye, Simms. That’s the lass. Rumour has it she went on an intensive fast-track officer training course a couple months ago. Not heard anything on the grapevine yet to suggest otherwise. Top-up anyone?” Stewey asked as he offered the table wine around.
“How’s Charles, honey? I hope he’s taking it easy now that he’s retired. Have you heard from him at all?” Nathan asked.
Evie looked left and right before she spoke, to ensure that no one besides those at the table were in earshot.
“He’s keeping his hand in. He may be retired, but he’s still in the loop. I think he’d be lost without at least something to do with potions. Spoke to him last week as it happened. He mentioned a report of a missing ship that has since been located off the coast of Murmansk. It left Hull just before the government lockdown was imposed. A spotter plane flew low over the vessel and the pilot reported seeing what looked like movement among bodies scattered on deck. This is classified information and it goes no further.”
“Jesus! You don’t think it could be—” Alisa began.
“Now, honey, let’s not jump to conclusions here,” Stewey cut in. He took her hand in his own to add a calming influence to his words. “We don’t know that for sure, based upon the words of a pilot. Besides, the antidote to the S.A.L.B.Y. strain is very effective, not to mention the outside lifespan of the organism itself. Look at Nathan here, strong as an ox. There’s no way it could have gotten onboard that boat. No way.” Stewey finished, confident in his own assessment.
Evie looked troubled. Her internal alarm bells had begun to ring. She already knew more than had been discussed but chose not to share it at that time. They were on leave after all, not a time for business, and nothing was confirmed. She did her very best not to reveal her true feelings, instead raising her glass in the hope that it would offer up at least a convincing action to the contrary. Stewey topped her up, set the bottle on the table, and continued to pick at the array of food. Nathan looked directly at Evie, but this time, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Right, what say we have a stroll on the beachfront then, burn off some of these calories?” Alisa suggested. She’d sensed the tension hanging in the air.
“Sounds like a good idea. Some sea and sand will do us all good, come on,” Nathan added.
They could hear Stewey and Alisa as they talked in low tones some way behind them. Nathan knew something troubled Evie. He could tell by the sheer pressure of her fingers intertwined with his, as if she were holding on to him for dear life.
“You wanna share?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“That boat, Nate. It’s possible that it left with infected aboard. The time frame is close, but there is room for it to be possible. The information that Charles gave me is strictly confidential, it could cause worldwide panic, not to mention a potential war. That ship is heading for Russia,” Evie warned.
“So what’s the worst-case scenario?”
“What? You mean besides another major outbreak in a country ten times the size of the UK? That’s pretty worst case. If that virus was to fall into the wrong hands, it could be utilised as a global weapon of destruction. They have labs there too, you know.”
“But we don’t know for sure that it is carrying infected, do we?” Nathan pressed.
“Well, no. Not for certain, but it’s only a matter of time one way or the other. The pilot was convinced he saw bodies. What else could it be?”
“Oh come on now, use that pretty head and think of the multitude of possibilities besides the virus. Could be food poisoning for all we know, or a rogue shipmate who finally flipped out at sea. There’s a myriad of reasons. What say you wait until you know more before you start tearing strips off yourself—that’s my job, in the bedroom,” he toyed, attempting to lighten Evie’s mood.
Evie pressed against him and accepted that his argument had substance. Her logical mind didn’t always contemplate things outside of her field. He gave her strength, a different view on the world, not to mention the best lovemaking she had ever experienced.
Nathan pulled her into him as they walked along the shore, the sound of the sea acting as a lullaby to the fears and doubts in her mind. Only time would reveal more, but by then, it could already be too late, she thought.
“Wait up, you two lovebirds. It’s getting late. Shall we head back for the night?” Stewey asked.
“Yes, sure. A nightcap and then we’ll head up,” Nathan agreed.
Both couples began to walk back towards the hotel, ready to settle down for the night.
6 – Road Trip
Three months earlier, Salby Retail Park, North Yorkshire, 19th March 2014, 1300 hours.
The rows of cars provided cover as we searched among them, a hope beyond hope to find one substantial enough for our needs. I knew we would likely need to plough our way out of here, and my car simply wouldn’t have the guts to make it. I spotted a cross-over two rows ahead, door open.
“Barbie, there! That one,” I called.
She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. The cause of her temporary paralysis became evident soon enough. A lone woman, clearly one of ‘them’, stood slightly off to her left. Barbie raised the trident fork in a half-hearted gesture of competent defence. It had little effect at distraction and the woman continued to close the gap, goading Barbie to make her move.
“Barbie! Barbara! Move, dammit!” I yelled, in a vain attempt to snap her out of her daze.
The crazed, wild haired woman, covered in grime, and slightly larger than Barbie, took another step, her face contorted in pure hate-filled, murderous rage. Her intentions were clear; someone was going to die today.
In the remaining seconds before the woman made contact with Barbie, I had to think fast. I turned, ran and hurdled up and over the cars, building as much momentum as I could. As I reached the car closest to the woman, I jumped.
In what could have been an Olympic-class dive, I ploughed into the woman and sent both of us sprawling to the ground. I came down hard on my right wrist. The white-hot pain shot through my arm and momentarily threw me off the task at hand. That moment was all it took for the woman to lunge at my flayed out legs. She sank her teeth deep into my thigh and bit down hard. I screamed out my pain, which cancelled out that of the fire in my wrist—her clamp on my leg akin to that of a medium-sized dog.
Barbie snapped out of her world and returned to this one, straddled the woman with the trident raised high at her chest, and forced it down hard into the back of the woman’s skull. For a few seconds, almost nothing happened, just a mild twitch and only the barest reduction in the pressure of the woman’s hold upon my leg. Her eyes found mine as the light within them began to fade, glassed over as life became extinct. For one fleeting moment, I thought her grip upon me would remain, but it waned enough for me to pull away. Her face hit the concrete as the trident stood vertical, planted prong-deep in the back of her head.
Barbie appeared to be cold, but nowhere near as cold as I felt. Her body shook uncontrollably and her breathing became sporadic, jerky, as she hyperventilated. In what I can only describe as a systematic assault, my body began to freeze.
Fingers of icy intrusion coursed through my veins, pushed around my system by my rapid heartbeat. My head felt light, woozy, and images began to blur. I managed to stand on my own, though the proximity of the car was the only thing to keep me upright.
