Insidious Valour, page 22
“They’re walking through now,” Dominic reported.
Ryan’s thighs began to scream, tightening with every heavy pace, and the sharp, cold air invaded his lungs. He swung his head back towards the barricade, and the red cloud had all but dispersed from the ground and began to vanish into the air.
The first figure emerged from the smoke, followed by two more, then more. Ryan tried to count while focusing on his forward momentum.
A dozen?
They were armed, holding their weapons close and all taking a kneeling position. Ryan began to duck and weave, making his movements unpredictable. Bullets whizzed by, and he dove to the ground as they zipped overhead, some crashing into the maze wall.
He picked himself up and ran towards the lorry parked outside the maze’s eastern wall. The back cargo had been opened and was fortunately empty. A swarm of footprints led inside, but the gate had been left open. Drinker got them back safe.
Ryan pulled the radio up. “Dominic. This is the game plan,” he huffed. “They’ll be in your field of view in a couple of minutes. Let them get to the bridge before you start shooting. They’ll either start jumping into the freezing river, towards me, or running away. We’ll pick them off together. Got it?”
“You got it, boss.”
More bullets thudded into the back of the lorry, and Ryan did his best to keep peeking around, letting them know he was still there. He guessed they didn’t have any scoped or long-range weaponry but kept his feet hidden behind the tyres should any of them decide to get low and try to take his legs out.
A thundering crack of a rifle almost ripped the sky in half, and the first victim of Dominic’s shooting crumbled to the ground. The panic was immediate, and they started to dart forward. Ryan swung and aimed in at two, hitting them both in the lower abdomen. Dominic took another out before they changed course and started to run back. Between the pair, they had dropped nine, and two more were dispatched while attempting to flee. Ryan focused hard on the last one, putting his sights on their lower back and firing three shots, one of which connected in the kidney area.
“All down,” Ryan said into the radio, leaving the cover of the lorry and approaching the bodies, of which the final one was crawling to their weapon, only for it to be kicked to the side. Ryan knelt next to the bulky soldier and pulled their head up by the hair. “Speak,” he ordered.
“Fuck you.” The response was spat at him. A European accent. Heavy, bold, and eastern. “Admiral was right about you.” They laughed. “Fucking good boy.”
“Well, that’s better than nothing.” Ryan shrugged, only just realising how much pain he was truly in. “How many more of you are there?”
“More than you can stop.”
“You would think that, but two of us just took out twelve of you, so I like our chances. Again, how many of you are there?”
“You think it’s just us and those dirty Termites they have? You want to know how many are coming? I’d die before telling you anything.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ryan said, flipping the man over on his stomach and pulling their jacket off. He took out his knife and cut the back of the soldier’s T-shirt open, exposing their back. He ran the tip of the blade down their spine and dug it in at the bottom. “What I’m going to do to you I’ve only seen in TV shows. I don’t know if this is possible without killing you, but I guess we’ll find out together, hmm?”
From there, Ryan used the knife to pierce the skin all the way up their spine as the screams and begging to stop were almost deafening.
“Okay.” Ryan pulled the knife away and held it in front of him. “How many of you are there?”
Ryan limped through the cafeteria, white jacket almost fully covered in blood and a distant look in his eyes. One of the onlookers screamed at the sight, causing everyone, including the newer survivors, to turn and stare at the scene before them.
He put his hand up and signalled for silence, removing his parka and slumping it on the nearest table.
Cassy emerged from the kitchen, ready to rush over and hug him before she stopped, noticing something different in his eye.
“They’ve retreated back to Milton Keynes,” Ryan wheezed, sitting on the chair. “They’ll be back when they’ve regrouped.”
“What happened?” Cassy asked, looking him and the coat over. “Dominic said you fended off the attack.”
“Oh, we did,” Ryan cackled. “Just call this… interrogation.” He motioned at the blood smears. “Where’s the soldier who passed out?”
“Err, he’s, err,” Cassy stuttered, taken back by Ryan’s calmness. “Drinker took him to Medical Room One.”
“Okay,” he groaned, standing himself up and hobbling to the medical corridor. “Tell Dominic that the top floor is now a four-man job. His team doesn’t leave there until further notice.” He stopped, seeing Cassy hadn’t acknowledged him. “Cassy. Go tell Dominic now!”
He waited for her to take the radio and update Dominic, then gradually made his way to the double doors and pushed through. He leaned against the yellow wall, sliding his damp trainers across the blue tiled floor before stopping outside the open door.
Drinker looked up, shocked at the sight of Ryan. “The fuck happened to you?”
“It’s not mine, just the poor bastard who refused to give me information.”
“Did you find anything out?”
“Just that thousands will be headed our way eventually, both friend and foe, and we have to decide who we let in.” Ryan tossed the jacket on the bedside table and pointed to the soldier in the bed. “Is he out cold?”
“He’s conscious.” Drinker pointed to the drip out his arm. “Trying to hydrate him, and also gave him some ether to help with the pain.”
“Good enough for me. I need a chat with him.”
“I don’t think now is a good—”
“Maybe not,” Ryan interrupted, “but we know that there are people on the way and that they were prepared enough to lay two ambushes. Drinker, I need you out there, keeping order with the new arrivals and helping Dominic set up defence. Can you do that for me?”
Drinker didn’t answer immediately; more so, he was taking in Ryan’s calmness while also looking like he just stepped out of a slasher movie. “Aye.”
“Thank you.”
Ryan staggered into Medical Room One, pulling the last metallic splinter from his left shoulder as he landed hard in the armchair, trying to steady his breathing and make sense of what happened.
He leaned forward, spitting blood on the floor. “What you saw…” he winced, talking to the semi-conscious stranger in the gurney, “…it was real. All real.”
Back in the cafeteria, orders were yelled out as positions and lookout points were delegated amongst the members of Penbrook Vineyard and the newest batch of survivors.
“We’ve faced them before,” Ryan continued, attempting to cover the fresh gash that ran down his left bicep. “They’re called Termites.” He paused, replaying the image of the swarm that had just tried to ambush them. “That’s what they were nicknamed by their captors—Termites—a workforce designed to do nothing but build, work, fight, then die.”
A box of ammo clattered across the corridor floor outside their room, and two people rushed to fortify the winery’s western fire exit.
“And the speed you saw them run… it wasn’t your eyes playing tricks on you. They’re strong. I’ve seen them throw wooden spears through metal barriers.” Ryan winced, sitting forward. “This power they possess is the result of a build-up and release of adrenaline, and the only thing that keeps that in check is the consumption of human meat…”
The stranger on the bed tried to open their mouth, and a croak escaped their bloody, bruised lips.
“Don’t talk. I’ll ask the questions.” Ryan sat forward. “Use your eyes. Blink once for yes. Twice for no. Do you understand?”
One blink.
“Good.” Ryan exhaled with relief. “Do you know who sent this wave of Termites after you?”
Two blinks.
“Damn. Those soldiers that were chasing us today, were they a part of your survivor’s camp in Sheffield?”
Two blinks.
“Were they new additions?”
One blink. The soldier lifted their hand, making a thumb symbol out of it. “Dry…” they gasped harshly. “Dry.”
“Dry? What’s dry?”
“Drive,” they managed before falling limp, and the pained glaze over their eyes was awash with peace.
Ryan reached up to the side of their neck, checking for a pulse. Nothing. He lowered his head, wiping the crusty blood away from his eyes. He saw the final gesture that the soldier had left him. The thumbs up and the word drive.
He looked to his right, where he had tossed his jacket and the mysterious object that was safely in its pocket.
The thumb drive.
39
Warm water ran down Ryan’s naked body as he stood in the shower with the door wide open, staring back at himself in the bathroom mirror. The blood across his face and in his hair had darkened to a hellish red colour. After months of avoiding his own reflection, he actually liked the warped monster that stared back.
He wasn’t scared of what was looking back, nor at what he had done this afternoon. He may have cost five soldiers their lives and performed a Nordic ritual that would disgust any civil human being, but he didn’t care.
One of his clean, blond locks dangled down, and he saw Lyndon’s face in the mirror. Just another reminder of every family member, friend, and loved one he’d lost to this now-approaching enemy. The sorrow didn’t sadden him anymore, but rather, it made him feel alive, like eliminating this enemy was his only destiny.
This fucking enemy.
In his own head, he felt like he’d sent a message to the ones he was going to kill. The Termites. Project Zodiac. Connor. Admiral.
“If you think we’re even after what I’ve done, then you are truly more fucked in the head than I ever gave you credit for.” He snarled at the imaginary beings in the mirror while wiping the blood from his chin and flicking the crimson droplets to the ever-growing puddle at his feet. “You see, I’m only just getting started.”
The monsters vanished, and all he was left with was the stern, psychotic reflection. The whites and green of his eyes tried to break through the spattered blood across his face. The same face that saved nearly a hundred people that afternoon.
I’ll do what I have to.
He shut the shower door and washed away the final crusty stains while trying to avoid getting too much hot water on his left arm, the newest of his many injuries.
Get back to focusing on what to do, he reminded himself as the blood swirled down the drain. What’s on that fucking thumb drive, and who were those men chasing us?
He turned off the hot water, watching the final droplets come to a halt. Between his newfound pride in hurting people and figuring out what was coming next, he remembered that the very shower he’d just had was from Cassy’s water allowance. He opened the door again and caught the newer reflection. Clean. Green eyes prominent. The difference was staggering.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
He snatched the towel and started drying.
Get the fuck out of your own head and get to the bottom of this shit. He pulled his joggers and hoodie on, slipped into his running trainers, and headed downstairs.
* * *
Sandra was working overtime in the kitchen, cooking batches of meals double what she had before. Teddy and Johanna helped organise and hand out spare sleeping bags, blankets, and mattresses to the new arrivals. At the same time, Sanjay and Rani took control of maintaining and feeding the animals.
Ryan met Drinker and Cassy at a table and started going over everything.
“Seventy-eight new survivors, plus sixteen from yesterday morning. Craig’s okay, just looks like a minor concussion,” Drinker reported. “We have just enough spare clothes in the holding rooms for the newer arrivals to change once a week.”
“And food?” Cassy asked.
“This is nothing new for Sandra,” Ryan reassured. “She used to feed double this when she was a school lady. According to our rations and inventory meeting yesterday, we can hold out without any fresh crops until next summer.”
“Grape water?” she added.
“Enough until March, but the winter and spring rains will top up during that time anyway,” Ryan said firmly. “I’m more worried about any rogues coming our way or more survivors.”
“Should we get Dominic in on this? He is head of security.”
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “Cassy, radio Dominic and say we’ll be up in five minutes.”
“Okay.” She stood and took the radio, getting some distance between her and the crowded noise.
Ryan and Drinker sat in silence, waiting for her to come back. She held the device close, seeming to be taking longer than normal, concerned. She shot Ryan and Drinker a look of horror. They both stood and ran over.
“Is there another wave coming?” Ryan pressed. “Are we under attack?”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head, moving her mouth away from the radio and whispering, “The cell door key has been removed from the box upstairs.”
“Hannah’s cell?” Ryan hushed back, alarmed. “Who’s on watch?”
“Callum.”
“Has anyone heard from Callum during his shift?”
Cassy shook her head, covering her mouth.
Ryan marched slowly to the stairwell, looking down to the basement entrance, still bolted shut from the outside. He pulled Drinker close. “Go out the front door and see if the second basement has been opened.”
“Aye.” Drinker took off in a hurry.
Ryan took his pistol out from his back pocket, signalling for Cassy to join him and do the same. He knew he couldn’t kill Hannah, but if it came to self-defence, she was fair game.
Only minutes passed before Drinker returned. “Second basement exit is still padlocked.”
Ryan held his hand out, asking for the radio. Cassy passed him the device. “Callum. All okay down there?”
No answer.
“Callum?” he asked again, only met by more silence. “Fuck.” He motioned for Drinker to join him. “Cassy, lock the door behind us. Don’t cause an alarm. Okay?”
She nodded, and Ryan unbolted all three locks, stepping inside with Drinker. To the right, Callum’s body lay in a pool of blood, his trousers round by his ankles. The cell door was wide open, with the key still in the lock.
“You might as well come in and lock the fucking cell,” Hannah barked angrily. “No point in my trying to escape when this little dickhead didn’t mention the other doors were bolted from the outside.”
Both marched over with pistols raised, facing into the cell. Hannah sat, washing her mouth out with water. Drinker pushed the door closed, locked it and withdrew the key. Ryan knelt beside Callum, turning his body over. The blood was coming from his crotch, which was missing a certain male appendage. He lifted his gaze further forward, just out of the candlelight, to see the small stump on the cold floor.
“Little shit tasted disgusting too. I thought virgins were supposed to be clean,” Hannah complained, spitting back into the bowl. “Some men have no common decency, do they?”
Ryan itched hard not to raise his gun while Drinker stood over the scene, hands on his head.
“I’ll do the favour for you two if you want?” she continued. “Though, this time, I promise to go all the way.”
“You promised a fifteen-year-old boy sexual favours in return for your escape?” Drinker asked seethingly.
“What would you do in my shoes? It’s not like there’s any age law these days, is there?”
Ryan took the radio from underneath Gavin and clicked the receiver. “Dominic. Cassy.” He paused, looking down. “She killed him to try and escape. Callum’s dead.” Walking away from the door, he looked up to the dark ceiling, trying to block out the tirade of abuse Drinker was throwing at Hannah, which seemed to have no effect on her.
Just another monster living among them.
The basement door was unbolted, and Cassy ran it at full pace, stopping in front of the cell door, paralysed and frozen.
“If it makes you feel any better, honey,” Hannah taunted, “your man refused when I offered. Now that’s what you call loyalty, considering my blowjobs are, well…” she pointed at Callum’s body, “…to die for.”
“You shut your fucking mouth!” Ryan snapped, marching to the cell.
Cassy’s trembling stopped, and her right arm swung out towards the prisoner, pistol aimed and ready.
“Woah, woah, woah.” Ryan stopped, arms out, trying to calm her. “You know we can’t do that.”
“Oh, this is more like it!” Hannah quipped, standing. “Nice to see your little girlfriend has more balls than you.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ryan roared again.
“Why? We all know you won’t kill me. I’m your get-out-of-jail-card, remember? You won’t kill me, even though that’s the second teenager I’ve murdered here, and I’m pretty sure the first one was a lot closer to you than this one was. What kind of man are you?” She turned her attention to Cassy, “And you won’t kill me because you’re not that person, even if I told you I’d happily kill your two children, too.”
There was a flash. A deafening bang in the confined basement space. Cassy’s arm kicked back from the recoil. Sudden and shocked cries sounded from up in the cafeteria.
Hannah stood, shocked but alive. No blood.
“Drinker,” Ryan said softly while looking over their prisoner, “get upstairs and calm everyone down, please.” He waited until he was gone, then stood behind Cassy, holding her shoulders. They both looked into the cell. There were no bullet markings on the wall. No wounds on Hannah.
