Rich Hawkins: The Last Plague

Ralph pointed to the open front door of a house across the street. “What about in there? Magnus needs somewhere to rest. We can’t drag him much further.”

“We don’t know who’s in there,” Joel said.

“I don’t give a fuck,” said Ralph. “We can’t stay out here. What do you think, Frank?”

Frank looked at the open door inviting them inside. A grey dimness lurked beyond it.

The shrieking thing called out again; a wailing, desperate sound. He tried not to imagine the mouth that made such a noise. He imagined something wet and dripping. He imagined a toothless mouth with fleshy slippery gums and tongue running over clammy white lips.

“Frank,” Ralph said, clicking his fingers at him. “What do you think?”

Frank looked back down the street.

“Frank!”

He looked at Ralph. “Okay.”

Ralph and Joel hauled Magnus towards the house. There was a blue Nissan on the driveway.

Frank followed then stopped at the door. Joel was calling out to see if the house was occupied. No answer. Ralph helped Magnus sit down on the hallway floor, slumped against the wall. He muttered under his breath.

Joel returned from the kitchen. He had already checked the living room. “Nobody home. Don’t know about upstairs, though.”

“Shut the door, Frank,” said Ralph.

“I’m going back.”

Ralph’s eyes widened. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, mate. Why?”

“It’s not right to leave her.”

“Please don’t go,” said Joel. “Stay here, Frank.”

“I’m sorry. I have to do it.”

“Don’t be a dickhead,” Ralph said. “We have to look after Magnus, not some woman we don’t even know.”

Frank handed his bag to Joel. “I can’t leave her back there.”

“Here.” Ralph tossed Frank the crowbar.

He caught it.

“Get back here in one piece.”

Then Frank was gone.

Frank hid behind the back of a white transit van parked by the side of the road. He gripped the crowbar and peered around the side of the van.

The woman was gone.

A sliver of panic and guilt stabbed him in the gut. Something had happened to the woman. He had had the chance to save her but neglected it. Maybe someone else had helped her. Maybe not.

Frank’s body sagged and he rubbed his face with one moist, clammy palm.

Something moved on the other side of the van. The patter of feet and the scrape of something on the road. Frank froze. His temples throbbed.

Something shrieked.

The sound filled Frank’s head. He clenched his teeth, fought the urge to scream, pins in his eardrums.

The shrieking thing swiped against the van. A scraping sound, like nails over metal.

Frank crouched and looked under the van.

The naked legs and bare feet of a man. Gangrenous lesions on his calves. It is human. The man grunted, a terrible livestock sound, like a cow drowning in a mud pit. Frank was struck by a stink like something left to rot in the sun by the side of a road.

Frank realised that if he could look under the van at the man, then the man could do exactly the same. He edged to the rear of the vehicle, towards the wheel, for cover. The man breathed loudly through a gasping mouth. The fevered breaths of a sick animal.

The man skittered . Wet grunted breaths grew more rapid.

The man was moving around the side of the van, towards him.

Frank got onto his hands and knees and scrambled under the vehicle. The cloying stink of oil and diesel. He stayed low to the ground, kissing the road. The cold hard tarmac bit at his hands. He tucked in his limbs. He held his breath. Sweat dripped from his face. His pulse thudded hotly between his ears and he thought the man might be able to hear his heartbeat.

The man’s bare feet stopped next to him. Long toenails yellowed, curved and fungal. Calloused heels wrapped in dead, flaking skin.

I’m a fool for coming back here.

The man shrieked again, the sound of swollen and infected vocal chords.

Frank closed his eyes. He did not want to see the man’s face when he stooped to drag him from his hiding place.

Ralph examined the blade of the kitchen knife in his hand. It was sharp and he liked it.

Judging by the framed photos on the walls, the house belonged to a young family. Mum, dad, and a little boy no more than ten years old. Ralph wondered where they were now. He had searched for the Nissan’s keys, but couldn’t find them.

He wondered if the family was dead.

They had laid Magnus on the sofa. He was barely conscious but his nose had stopped bleeding. Now he was a limp shape, eyelids fluttering, muttering nonsense words and moaning gently. His head was resting on a cushion. Joel laid a damp cloth over his forehead after cleaning the blood from around his nose and mouth.

Ralph found a Tupperware box full of chocolate bars in the kitchen cupboard. He gave one to Joel, one to save for Magnus when he awoke, and one for Frank when he returned. Ralph didn’t save one for the woman Frank had gone to rescue. He took two for himself and ate them without pause.

“What’s happening out there?” asked Joel. “Where is everybody?” He let out a nervous, juddering sigh. “I’ve got work tomorrow…”

Magnus groaned.

“Fuck knows,” said Ralph. “Have you tried the TV?”

“The power’s out. Do you think it’s only happened to this village, or do you think it’s happened elsewhere? Maybe the people were evacuated for some reason. What if this area is contaminated with something? Radiation or a biological agent of some kind. We could be in the middle of a quarantine zone. The government might want to hush it up, keep it all secret. There could be squads of soldiers in bio-hazard suits executing on sight anyone they think is contaminated.”

Ralph’s mouth turned sour. “We don’t know what’s happened. No point in jumping to conclusions.”

“What about the woman that Frank went back to help? What happened to her?”

“Dunno.”

“What was that puncture wound on her neck?”

Ralph took in a deep breath. Joel eyed him nervously, hands held together like an old maid.

“I don’t know, mate.”

“And what’s wrong with Magnus? Is he sick? Is there something worse than that wrong with him?”

Ralph thought exactly the same. “He’ll be fine. Once Frank gets back we’ll decide what to do, and we’ll get out of here. Calm the fuck down.”

“One of us should’ve gone with Frank. We shouldn’t have let him go on his own.”

“Would you rather have gone with Frank? Or would you have wanted to stay here and look after Magnus on your own?”

“Neither.”

“Frank will be okay. He’ll be back soon.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“Just take it easy. We’re safe in here.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to see if I can find tablets or something to help Magnus.”

“Okay.”

There were great booms in the distance, like the footfalls of a behemoth raised from the earth. Distant thunder. The ground reverberated.

Frank had not moved for an hour. His limbs were stiff, like ice sculptures draped in cloth. He was too scared to leave his hiding place.

Night would fall soon. The only light was a diseased, greasy hue. He didn’t want to be out here in the dark. He had heard strange noises earlier. Muted calls from far away; and voices that were no more than whispers in his ear. Footfalls down the street. The sound of running.

The shrieking man-thing was gone. He had staggered away over half an hour ago, sniffing the air and mewling like he was in pain.

Frank let out a small laugh and there was hysteria within it. He closed his mouth, scolded himself silently. With some effort he moved his limbs. He composed himself. A quick scan of the street at his level. No movement. No spindly legs waiting for him.