Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(4)

“You’re telling me.”

Nick shook his head and rubbed at his temples. He felt a huge headache coming on, vibrating like an approaching passenger train. “Screw it,” he said. “I’ve had enough of today. Let’s just cash up and get out of here. I’ll do the conference call at home and pretend I’m still here.”

Paul nodded, rubbing at his hand and wincing. “Sounds good to me, governor. I’m sure things will be better tomorrow.”

Nick huffed. “They couldn’t be any worse.”





Chapter two


The roads home were quiet. Nick and Paul had managed to leave work at quarter-past-four, before the rush hour traffic was due to begin. One or two cars still dotted the lanes of the duel carriageway – and at one point he’d needed to slow down to let a rushing ambulance pass by – but for the most part he hadn’t had to drop his Alfa Romeo below seventy the whole way home. By ten-to-five he was parked on the curb and walking into his house.

It was nice to be home a couple hours early and, as he put his key into the front door, he began to think about what he could do with the extra time. Perhaps he would take Deana and James out for a nice meal someplace. It’d been a while since they’d had treated themselves and it would be a nice way to put the dreary and exhausting day behind him. Maybe he would forget that tomorrow he would have to endure it all over again.

And the day after that. And the day after that. And every other day until I die of a stroke or just plain boredom.

Deana was standing barefoot in the hallway when he stepped inside the porch. She was obviously surprised to see him home so early. “What are you doing back?” she asked; her dark Moroccan eyes suspicious beneath her choppy black fringe. “Everything okay?”


“Don’t get me started,” said Nick, hooking his woollen coat onto one of the porch hangers. “We had about three customers all day long and then some weirdo came in and attacked Paul – he’s okay, by the way, so don’t worry. In the end I decided it wasn’t even worth being open, so I closed up early.”

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I couldn’t care less at this point. I’ll take the conference call in the bedroom later, but I’m sure no one will even know. You fancy going out for dinner tonight, oh dear wife of mine?”

Surprisingly, Deana didn’t seem enthused by the suggestion. “I don’t know, honey,” she said. “James is feeling a bit under the weather. I don’t know if it’s wise taking him out. And I don’t want to get a babysitter.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “What is it with people getting sick today? I swear something must be going around. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s just a little bunged-up, and a headache. Probably just needs an early night. He’s in the living room watching Family Guy DVDs.”

Nick sighed. “I told you not to let him watch that show, Deana. It’s not like The Simpsons.”

“It’s alright. He doesn’t understand the adult jokes. Go check on him. He’ll be glad to see you.”

“Okay,” he said, sighing in defeat of her argument. He gave her a peck on the cheek and moved past her. He took the door on the left, which led to the living room. Inside, his mop-haired little angel lay curled-up on the beige corner sofa. He was peering at the television screen, but seemed unable to focus very well. He was squinting and blinking his eyes as if something was irritating them.”

“You okay, little dude? Mommy says you’re not feeling very well.”

“I have a headache,” James said pitifully.

Nick went and sat on the end of the sofa. He pulled his son’s socked feet up onto his lap. “Oh dear. I’ll get Mommy to cook you something nice and then you can get an early night. You’ll feel all better.”

“Do I have to go to school?”

Nick laughed and tickled his son’s foot. But James didn’t react, which was strange because he was usually very sensitive to tickle-torture. He must really have been feeling ill. Nick tussled his hair instead. “We’ll see how you’re feeling tonight, buddy, and then decide. So, what’s happening in Family Guy?”

“Brian and Stewie are trapped inside a bank and Brian just ate Stewie’s nappy.”

Nick screwed his face up in disgust. “Lovely. Well, you can carry on watching until dinner, but then it’s going off, okay?”

He was about to get back up again, to go find Deana, but he paused when he spotted the thick Beano plaster on his son’s finger.

“Hey, buddy. What happened to your finger?”

“Jordan bit me at school. I didn’t even call him a name or nothing. He got in lots of trouble with Mrs Tanner, though, so it’s okay. Mommy had to kiss it better for me and put a Dennis the Menace on it.”

Nick didn’t like the coincidence. Paul had been bitten, too. But what did that mean? Surely an unruly child biting his son was nothing to worry about? It was the type of thing that happened at first school all the time.

Still, it was weird.

“Jordan bit you? Were you feeling ill before that, or afterwards?”

James shook his head. “I didn’t feel poorly until Mommy picked me up. I started to feel sick in the car and got a headache.”