Coldbrook (Hammer)(76)

She watched him go and took another sip of orange juice. He’d handed her a sweatshirt, then they’d retreated to the back of the aircraft where the small kitchen and several toilets huddled at the rear of the economy seating area. The other passengers had watched them go, and Jayne was certain it was only Sean’s gun that meant she was still alive. Sky marshal! he’d shouted as he dragged her along the aisle, her body exposed, the bite attracting frantic attention. Sky marshal! Stay back!

She’s got a bite!

She’s talking, not biting.

A f*cking zombie bite on her arm, man!

And if she turns I’m the one with the gun, so—

Gonna kill us all—

Don’t give a—

Asshole.

She’d cried and whimpered, from pain more than from fear, and for those first few minutes she’d talked constantly, not wishing to give Sean a moment’s doubt. She bit her lips until they bled, trying to hold back another churu blackout. He’d sat her in the last row of seats and stood across the aisle, watching her – and watching the other passengers where they’d retreated past the central toilets into the next compartment. He’d shouted updates to them – She’s fine, she’s talking, not a bite at all – but their only reply had been to scream back at him. There were sensible people among the passengers, she knew that. Compassionate, caring people. But right now even those wanted her dead.

Sean was working his way along the aisle, and she could see moonlight sweeping across the seats as the aircraft continued its turn. We’re going back, she thought, and a chill went through her.

‘What’s happening?’ Sean asked. The curtain twitched and a face peered out. The woman looked past Sean to Jayne, and Jayne tried to smile. The woman’s face remained blank.

‘They’re turning us back,’ she said. ‘She still . . .?’

‘She’s fine.’

‘We should put her in the hold!’ someone shouted from beyond the curtain.

‘She’s unwell,’ Sean said.

‘You said she was—’

‘It’s an old illness! Something genetic, something called churu.’

‘I’ve never heard of it.’

‘So she’s fragile, and she might freeze down there.’

‘And?’ The shouter appeared beside the woman, drawing the curtain back to face Sean. The marshal had paused halfway along the compartment, and there were still ten paces between them. But for a moment, Jayne was sure the man was about to charge.

‘She must be immune,’ Sean said. ‘Have any of you heard anything about people being bitten and treated in hospitals? Anyone else immune?’

The woman shook her head gently, looking past Sean again. ‘The President made a speech,’ she said. ‘He said they’re doing everything in their power to help, and they won’t rest until—’

‘Anything significant?’ Sean asked.

‘Immunity register,’ the woman said.

‘They’re saying no one’s immune!’ the man said, and then another woman pushed through, a stewardess who had served Jayne’s supper an hour after take-off. Her presence seemed to calm the man and woman, and they relaxed a little.

‘It’s spreading fast,’ the stewardess told Sean. ‘There’s martial law across five states. I’ve got a friend who works in the NYPD and they’re getting ready to isolate Manhattan. And, from everything I’ve seen on YouTube and the news channels, it infects you in minutes.’

‘Any cases of bites not turning anyone?’ Sean asked.

‘Hey,’ the stewardess said, her smile forced, ‘that’d be good news. You think the media would want any of that right now?’

Sean glanced back at Jayne, and she saw the man tense as if ready to make a grab for the gun. She opened her eyes wider, nodded past Sean, and he turned back quickly. The tension relaxed as quickly as it had built.

‘Why are we going back?’ Sean asked. The aircraft had completed its turn – the moonlight was shining through different windows now.

The stewardess seemed uncomfortable, and Jayne realised that none of the other passengers knew either.

‘So why?’ the man prompted.

‘They won’t let us land,’ she said. ‘UK air-traffic control says they’re scrambling the RAF to turn back any North American flights.’

‘And they threatened to shoot us down if we don’t comply?’ Sean said. The stewardess didn’t answer, which was answer enough.