Coldbrook (Hammer)(151)

The biker pulled away, and Sean drove off fast. He angled the mirror so he could look at Jayne, then shifted it again so that he could see behind them.

‘The others?’ Jayne asked.

‘Following. But still no sign of the bus.’

Jayne felt the churu coma circling her again. She tried to defy it, emitting a low, quiet moan as she struggled against the dark.

Someone took her hand, surprising her so much that she opened her eyes and sat up straighter. Pain roared through her, but she was used to it. She had lived with it for ever. She let it flood through her eyes and thud in her ears, and Olivia’s hand around hers, her smile, suddenly made things easier.

They passed around a low outcropping in the hillside. The road curved down into the valley, and there was the small compound that might be their new home. Its area was perhaps two acres and it had a few buildings, some informal gardens, parking areas, and a low level of security – fence planted with hedging to disguise it, single guardhouse at the gate. From this distance the bodies that the biker had mentioned were specks, the Chinooks toys.

‘That’s it?’ Jayne asked.

‘Iceberg,’ Lucy said. ‘Lots more below than above. Main entrance is that big grey concrete building, and a road circles down from there into the garage area. But we’re heading for one of the ventilation ducts.’

‘Why?’

‘Only way in. When it hit, Jonah locked down the whole place.’

‘Okay back there?’ Sean asked as he drove.

‘Yeah,’ Jayne said. ‘For now. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk.’

‘I could carry you,’ Olivia said. ‘Daddy says I’m the strongest girl in the world.’

‘He might well be right, kid.’ Jayne grinned, feeling herself pressed into the darkness. ‘Oh,’ she said, and her voice sounded very far away. Even the gunshot she heard could have been in another world. And then everything fell silent, still.

. . . carry her . . .

The voice was incredibly distant, echoed with the soft snap of gunshots.

. . . go down first, I’ll follow, have to tie her on in case . . .

Jayne raged against the churu and opened her eyes. She was sitting on the station wagon’s hood, Sean standing close to her with his back turned, and he was looking back over his shoulder.

‘Hey, Jayne,’ he said softly. ‘Marc is tying you to me, and I’ll carry you down.’

‘We’re here?’ She looked around at Coldbrook’s compound, and saw that close-up there were many more signs of everything that had gone wrong. Bullet holes pocked the buildings, windows had been blown out, and she could see three bodies. They were horribly mutilated, and wild animals had been at them. One of them had been torn open and its innards spread around. At least they didn’t move.

Past a low building, a length of the boundary fence and hedging was scorched and twisted, and beyond lay the gutted remains of a Chinook, its rotors slumped and its fuselage burned away.

Jayne leaned against Sean and rested her head on his shoulder, looking back the way they had come. Two of the trucks had been parked side by side across the gateway. She frowned.

‘Wasn’t there a Ford?’

‘That one didn’t make it.’

Zombies were running along the road that curved down the hillside and was obscured here and there by trees. The first few had already reached the low, hedged fence, and the Unblessed guys were walking calmly back and forth, shooting them as they started to climb. But there were many, many more.

‘The bus . . .’ Jayne said, and then darkness took her again. She threw her arms around Sean’s chest and sobbed again when she felt his hands close around hers.

‘Back with us?’ Sean asked. His voice sounded different: echoing, yet deadened. ‘Don’t struggle. I’m climbing down the duct with you, but the ladder’s narrow. It’s dark. Only two torches. So just trust me, and—’

‘Of course I trust you,’ Jayne said. Rope rubbed the skin of her back raw, but it was a different pain from that of the churu and she clung to it. It was the pain of damage, not the agony she had lived with for so long. And when she felt a dribble of blood running down her side, she traced its journey, fascinated.

From above came the muffled sound of gunshots.

‘How long . . .?’ she asked, her voice slurred.

‘We have to be quick,’ Sean said.

They descended further, and then there were more gunshots, this time from below. Sean stopped and leaned slightly out from the ladder, aiming a torch downward, and when Jayne looked she saw a deep, dark metallic throat maybe five feet across. The torch’s beam shook, and she could feel Sean’s sweat soaking through to her.