Coldbrook (Hammer)(33)

Olivia sniffed behind him, and Vic realised his daughter was crying.

‘So?’ Lucy asked beside him, so cold, so afraid.

His guilt scoured deep into him. Before he could change his mind he brought the Rav4 to a halt and pulled out the satphone.

‘Honey, I just need to see how bad it is,’ he said, pressing Jonah’s speed-dial number as he spoke. By the time Lucy began to protest the call was answered, and the old bastard’s Welsh accent cut through the static.





4


‘Vic, you stupid bastard Yank, do you have any idea what you’ve done?’ The phone’s ringing had startled Jonah – he was standing at the viewing panel in the door, looking out at the deserted, silent corridor beyond – and his shouted response was partly in reaction to that shock. But it was also provoked by the words that had appeared on the little screen: Vic calling.

‘Jonah—’

‘Today I’ve seen people dying. Melina. Uri. And Estelle, she had her head . . . it was . . . because of you.’ He drew a breath, leaning against the door with one hand.

‘Jonah, where are you? How bad is it?’

‘Ah, f*ck off, Vic,’ Jonah said, and he disconnected. His head was spinning, heart galloping, and he sat down gingerly on the edge of the desk. The palpitations made him cough, and for a moment he was sure the dizziness would increase and he’d hit the floor. Break a hip, he thought, and wouldn’t that be just fine? Survive all that and then break a damn hip? Wendy would have laughed at the irony in that, but then she always did have a skewed view of life. Bill Coldbrook had once said, The more we think we know, the more humble we should become, and how right he had been. Had Jonah’s own pride and arrogance caused this catastrophe? Perhaps.

Jonah dialled Vic back and the call was answered after the first ring.

‘Vic, don’t talk,’ Jonah said. ‘I’m not sure I want to hear your cowardly bastard voice right now, but you need to hear mine, and what I have to say. You need to know. Are you listening?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. I’ve seen people attacked and killed down here, and then get up again to go and attack others. I believe I might be the only one left who’s not either dead or infected. I’ve made some calls, sounded the alarm. And I’m alone in Secondary.’ He stared at the door for a moment, sure he’d seen movement beyond. But his view of the corridor outside stayed clear. Just shadows on my mind. ‘Whatever the contagion is, it’s spread by bites. It kills and infects its victims within a minute. I’ve seen people shot five times and still walking, unless they’re shot in the head. You have to shoot them in the head.’

Vic snorted, and it might have been a laugh.

‘Funny?’ Jonah asked softly. ‘You’re finding something amusing?’

‘No, it’s just—’

‘I said I didn’t want to hear your bastard voice, Vic. There’s nothing funny here. Nothing! I saw Estelle have her face bitten off. She fell and bled out, died. And then stood again, and attacked the only guard I believe was left alive. He . . . he blew her head off. That time, she stayed down.’

‘You’re talking about zombies, Jonah.’

‘The notion’s make-believe. But what it implies fits.’

Vic laughed again, but there was desperation there, a hint of hysteria. And Jonah did not like that.

‘Pull yourself together, boy! Think of your family.’

‘I am thinking of my family. They’re here with me now. We’re on our way out of Danton Rock, but . . . I heard shooting when I left the compound.’ Vic fell silent for a moment, and now Jonah did see movement through the door’s glass panel.

A face appeared there, so ruined that he could not possibly identify it, could not even tell its owner’s sex. It stared in at him with one good eye, pressed against the strengthened glass and smearing blood. It did not blink. He heard nails drawn across the metal door.

‘There’s one watching me,’ Jonah said, backing away from the door, and the truth of what he saw hit him hard. Don’t give up on me now, he thought as his heart lurched in his chest, and he closed his eyes to try and calm his body. The thing scratched some more.

‘One what?’ Vic asked.

‘One of them. If you could only see. I’m turning away, but listen to me. This is beyond fault or guilt now – that all comes later, and damn me if I won’t punch your lights out when I see you again. But I’m trapped down here. And there’s something I need to do, and something you must do, too. You’ve got to warn people. Visit the station there, speak to Sheriff Blanks. Tell him what happened, tell him everything I’ve told you. And tell him to shoot them in the head.’