Tim Lebbon - Coldbrook

‘I. .’ Holly began. But they were whispering, and their fear was palpable. Holly glanced up and back at the hilltop, relieved to see it was still an unmoving silhouette against the strange sky.

‘They track you,’ the woman said.

‘Then come through with me.’ Holly lowered the crossbow, feeling vaguely stupid aiming it at another human being. She could never kill anyone human, she realised, and if they restrained her by force she would have to accept that. She desperately needed to get through, but she could not take human life to do so.

‘Through?’

‘There.’ Holly nodded at the breach, nestled thirty metres behind them at the foot of the hill like a haze of mist catching moonlight.

‘Travel through there has been forbidden,’ the woman said.

‘But you won’t stop me,’ Holly said. She caught a look between the two guards and their companions, a quick glance that spoke volumes. The woman guard started signalling with the fingers of one hand. ‘No,’ Holly said, and she raised the crossbow again. ‘I have to get home.’

‘We have orders.’

‘There’s no more time.’ Holly took one last look behind her. Dawn was already penetrating the dusty atmosphere, lighting up the hillsides, and she could see movement up there now.

Another series of finger signals but Holly was no longer concerned with their stand-off. They were all out of time.

Lowering the crossbow for the second time, she ran between the guards towards the breach beyond them.

The nights, Jayne realised, were always going to be the worst. Tired, terrified, and vaguely hungover, Jayne stirred from a dream-filled sleep and took a couple of seconds to remember what had happened. She’d once enjoyed these brief moments before the stab of pain, these seconds of reconstruction, when her waking mind would bring together the disparate strands of her life and identity to remind her who she was.

Today it took her two whole heartbeats to remember that Tommy was dead.

‘They’re still out there,’ a man’s voice said.

Jayne kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, examining the ache in her head as a way of trying to bypass the heavy, hot pains in her limbs and hips. She pretended, in those few moments before reality smashed its way through, that this was her dream — this place, this time, with these diseased, dead people wandering the airport as they searched for anyone they had missed. And it might have worked for longer than a second if Sean had not persisted.

‘Jayne? You awake? You okay? I said they’re still there.’ His voice became muffled, and she knew he had turned again to one of the aircraft’s dulled, scratched windows. ‘Some have gone, I think. Or maybe they’re just waiting somewhere out of sight. But lots of them are just. . wandering. Like cattle.’

Jayne opened her eyes at last and grimaced at the familiar pain. Soon she would have to start massaging her limbs and joints, give herself the gift of movement.

‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘Couple hours,’ Sean said.

‘What’s happened?’

He shrugged, his back still turned towards her. She could see the window misting and clearing as he breathed, and she wanted to tell him to get back. But it was dark inside the cabin, and outside there was flickering, dreadful light.

‘Terminal’s still burning. Hour ago, a big passenger jet overflew the airport, real low, then headed north. A few minutes after that an F16 went back and forth a few times.’

Jayne sat up slowly, wincing against the pain in her stiff limbs and joints. As she started massaging, the determination in Sean’s voice gave her a boost.

‘Did you speak to your daughter?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Did your friend call back?’ she asked.

‘Leigh? Yeah.’ Sean paused.

‘And?’

‘And he said he’d put a call in, and entered you on the immunity register. Help should be on its way.’

‘ Should be?’

Sean turned around at last, retreating from the window, and for a moment Jayne saw the glimmer of distant fires reflected against his skin.

‘Shouldn’t we be calling the police, or something?’ she asked. ‘Or. . I don’t know, the army? Scientists?’

‘I’ve been thinking about this,’ Sean said, shaking his head, ‘and-’

From outside they heard the whoop of a police siren. Eyes wide, Sean glanced from Jayne to the window and back again.

‘Help?’ she asked.

‘Maybe. But we have to be careful.’ He was still nursing the gun in his hand, and she wondered whether he’d closed his eyes even for a moment while she had been asleep. She felt very selfish. She had rested, mourning a love she knew was dead, and all the while Sean had watched over her, not knowing what had happened to his daughter.

Jayne pushed herself upright and staggered across the aisle to the far seats. Sean grabbed her hand and eased her down, and they looked out of two adjoining windows. In the distance, past a series of boarding gates where several aircraft were parked, a blue light flashed three times. A siren whooped again, followed by three more flashes.

‘What are they doing?’ she asked.

‘Looking for survivors, maybe?’

‘Or looking for us?’

Below them, several shapes emerged from beneath the plane’s fuselage and headed across the wide span of concrete. One man walked quickly, almost with authority, but the splash of dried blood down the back of his white shirt was stark and black. The others followed at a slower pace, a couple of them hindered by the wounds that had changed them.

‘Hiding beneath us,’ Jayne said.

‘Sneaky bastards.’

‘Sneaky? You think they can sneak?’

Sean gave her a sidelong look and shrugged.

‘We should signal them,’ she said. ‘But we should warn-’

‘I doubt they need warning.’ He tensed for a moment, thinking. He chuckled. ‘Wish I could drive this thing.’

‘Wish I could fly this thing.’

Sean nodded, still distracted. ‘Cabin lights,’ he said at last.

‘I’m sure there’s a master switch, but where?’

‘Maybe it doesn’t matter.’ Sean reached for the overhead control panels, pushed buttons, and the weak reading lights flicked on.

‘Might as well light a match,’ Jayne said, watching from the window. She could make out two vehicles, one a police car and the other a larger truck. In the flickering light of the burning concourse, they looked white.

Sean walked back and forth along the cabin, flicking on the lights.

Something exploded in the blazing terminal, sending a column of fire and rolling black smoke skyward. Gouts of flame arced comet-like from the blast, and as they rained down they too started exploding in brief, incredibly bright bursts.

‘Gas canisters,’ Jayne said. ‘The cop car’s moving back.’ She heard Sean’s footsteps as he raced to switch on more lights and suddenly she felt incredibly exposed here in this contained space. The glare of the explosions and the subdued lighting behind her combined to blur her vision, and outside there could be any number of grim faces turning her way. They’ll see us now , she thought. Whether or not those cops are here for us — whether or not they see us — the zombies will know we’re here . This might have been their one safe place, but now it was compromised.

‘I think we have to get out,’ she said when Sean crouched by her side.

‘Come on, come on,’ he said, willing the cops to see them.

The two vehicles were reversing away from the burning terminal and away from them, moving slowly but obviously under control. There was a flash from the truck’s passenger window that might have been a gunshot. And then the police cruiser stopped.