No one knew what to say, the truckers found themselves back on a seat and Joe stood close to the door holding the shotgun like a sentry or a prison warden. His hands were fidgety and his eyes searching.
“Joe, why is it so damn cold in here?” I decided a new tact maybe if I got him talking, removed the fear, he would be reasonable.
“What would you rather it be hot?” He said nodding at the big hooded A/C unit pumping cold air in from the back of the room.
Panic struck, I found myself mad again, an urge came and this time I could barely contain it. Sabre was the sonofabitch that started this and if he was here, I might kill him again. The thudding came once more. And the recognisable sound of glass slipping and clanging to the floor. The crease had spread and a small corner had popped out. The thuds got loud, and then an arm stretched in through the corner. I could feel hair prick upright on my neck. Knives.
“Mike, this way.” He followed me to the kitchen and we found a handful of knives hanging on a magnetic strip. We took them.
“Let me out, Joe.”
He moved away from the door, and I covered my mouth. Outside the girl saw me, she charged mouth open and screaming. It took two hard thrusts to drop her, blood sprayed back on my hand. Nothing could have prepared me for that, blood on thy hands literally. Her red eyes deflated, but she wasn’t done. She wrapped her long fingers around my neck. I pulled my leg up and blasted my heel against her gut and she fell off the knife. I still held my breath and looked around out there, the lightening flashed close, and it was all around us. I shook the thoughts from my head and as I went to walk back inside something clutched my ankle like a manacle. My head hurt for oxygen, and my chest was desperate to expand but I wasn’t afraid. Out there in a mess of bodies, I wasn't afraid. I looked down into the woman’s red eyes. I watched her desperately holding me, begging for the end. I took the knife and pressed it hard into her throat, it barely broke through. Oddly I felt cheated by Hollywood movies, by the act itself, by the rejection of the flesh against the knife. I pressed and forced it back and forth until warm blood splashed against my knuckles. I dropped her head and ran.
I charged through, part of me wanted to get in the old truck while I had the chance. Then I thought of Janey, I had almost forgotten about her bundled up in the backroom with Claire and the kids.
Inside the two truckers were now shoulder-to-shoulder with Joe, who took up his spot in front of the door. His hands were still shaking and his eyes barely peeping out from under bags hanging from his brow. He was like a rock, taking up a wide stance with shoulders slumped. He couldn’t stop all of us if we wanted to leave, not with only two or three rounds left. Did he have it in him to pull the trigger anyway? If I hit that little round nose hard enough and got my body under the barrel, I could do it. Mike had been watching the thoughts cross my face. He waved me over.
“It’s not worth it, not yet.” He began and of course he was right.
“He won’t move, he won’t reason, he only wants to protect his diner.”
“We’ve only got so much time,” he continued raising his eyes to the corner of missing glass.
“There must be a back door.”
“But how can we get all three of us back there and the kids. Even if we get out, we would have to move about in the fog to get to the cars.” He was right again.
There was something hard about Mike, like ex-military. It might have been his indifference to the deep crevice across the bridge of his shattered nose, or it might have been the cold steel in his eyes. I guess dealing with 400-pound sacks of muscle designed to tear men apart demanded a certain tempered finish, a balance of brute and slick. I was just glad he’s on our side, for now.
“What about the kids?” I said glancing over at the couple. The girl was getting younger every time I looked over. Silent tears ran over her parchment cheeks and the boy’s leather jacket still failed to maintain his bravado, he almost looked silly, a man’s face wearing a child’s helpless expression.
“He’s no use, I don’t think we have room for any more, assuming we can get to the car.” I explained its best we take his car as the truck only sat three. He thought it was a good idea, but his car was a little further away.
I glanced over at Joe. I could see my hands on his throat. I could see his eyes bulging and blue veins surfacing on his spotted dome. An unfamiliar rage came on flushing my face. My firm grip on my emotions was slipping again, easier than ever. I kept reminding myself Tara was at home. It was guilt at first, a hollow feeling in my gut, I wanted to fear for her, I wanted to care. But the truth is I could barely remember what we had, why we were in love.
And in the back, my daughter waited. My eyes fell on Sabre’s case again, sitting where he had left it.
“Mike, I should show you something.” I took him to the case and we went over the documents. All the ones I didn’t have time to scan before. One struck me, dated less than a week ago. As I read, the air was drawn from the room. My lungs sucked hard and my heart was going like hell.
Mr. Sabre,
While we acknowledge your important contribution to the programme, we must reject your plea to terminate further testing. Any decision MUST be approved by the board. I will personally address the issues you raise.
The aggressive nature of the chemical does not mean it cannot be contained. In testing, we have seen the chemical expand slowly through water but it fails to expand as an airborne substance. While your assessment of a possible catastrophe is right. If the chemical continues to restack particles as it expands it could conceivably spread beyond the limited field trial. But the chemicals effect would diminish and within the testing area we have allowed for 100x the expected expansion. In an absolute worst case scenario, if the chemical miraculously expanded as an airborne substance it would still barely reach the extremities of our testing area. The experiment has been approved for Monday. The closest inhabited land is 90 miles north, Little Rock, a holiday community of less than 400 people.
To address your second query: No one has been adversely affected when exposed. The chemical has had mild effects on lab rats when exposed daily. As of yet no evidence suggests it could harm a human. We have been transparent in our motives. As a division of Sabre Corp, we understand how rapidly the company is expanding and the scrutiny all projects go under. Let me personally assure you, the chemical is designed to reset primitive function and only effects animals. I don’t need to remind you how important this discovery is and the commercial prospects.
I hope this clears up your concerns. Doctor Lindegaard’s resignation was a matter of confused morals. Since my promotion, the chemical has taken substantial steps towards commercial use. The testing will continue as planned.
Yours sincerely,
Jacqueline Valkor
Mike’s eyes were scanning along the page again. Progressively becoming narrower, his lips pulled back from his teeth. He combed his fingers through his slick back hair, flashing his Tagheuer. He was all flash and style, delicately set about a hideously raptured nose and two eyes looped in purple. Our eyes met, confused, but somehow certain. It had spread beyond the 100x allowance. It did affect humans.
“Fetch whatever it is they have got over there.” Joe’s voice startled me. It came echoed with footsteps and MacGregor and the other trucker were sheepishly treading closer, we didn’t resist. We had extracted everything we could, and it sure as hell looked dire. The clock ticked closer to three in the afternoon, and the darkness was still there, as though the sun was entirely obscured, hitting the fog like my headlamps had.
I started toward the back room.
“Where do you think you are going?” Joe called.
“You can keep me from the fog Joe; just try keep me from my daughter.” I said without looking back.
They were all asleep. Except Claire. She sat one leg folded over the other at the knee. Her skirt rode up. She looked at me again, and this time there was no confusion. Her eyes wanting, her lip twisted a little between her teeth. Her head tilted. Again, the guilt came like a cannon ball down the throat. I wanted to want Tara. My high school love carried into midlife, and this morning I did love her but I was losing it as my focus centred on Claire. Something was strange, and it had become stranger. For the first time since the morning pancakes, I realised how empty my gut was. I wanted meat. I found the chiller, stocked full of bacon and sausage. I took a packet of bacon and crushed it in my fist until my thumb broke the packet and the brine squirted out.
I ripped the packing and buried my face, sucking as much as I could. Chomping, and shredding until it was empty. I found another, and another. The brine was soaking through my shirt, cooling me. Only when it hurt to eat more I left.
When I returned to the main room of the diner Mike was sitting with the young couple, no one was at the door.
“Where are they?”
“That big red headed trucker has a handgun in his cab and the little Italian, the owner, suggested they would need more weapons to keep us in. He said if he sees us out there, he would shoot us. I think all three of them went.”
“Shit! They will come back like the rest, animals. Except they will have guns.” I eyed the missing corner of glass and wondered how much fog had gotten in already. How much of the chemical were we inhaling?
There was no time to worry about that, they would be on their way back, mad and aggressive.
I lead Mike to the kitchen and we grabbed a pair of knives each. I sent the couple, Sarah the babysitter and the burly cook out the back to wait with the others. The boys offered to stay and fight, but their voices came obligatory, quaking with forged bravado.
We waited, crouching, concealed in a booth near the entrance. I could hear my breath, like a low wind through the reeds by the lake. And Mike’s cold steel eyes were hard set on the door. He had a blade coming out the back of each hand military. He could have been a commando looking like that, face caked with blood, sweat slicked across his forehead. We waited.
The door pulled open. They stepped in. There was no talk between them they just moved forward. They were like apes, the way they lumbered, hunched so far forward that they almost made a cavity of their chests. Apes, sniffing at the air, not quite as gone as the other’s but no longer human. The clap of their footfalls was the only sound. There were two of them. Where was the crew cut boy?
Joe the owner looked like a boxer who’s gone twelve rounds, beat. He still held the gun. We couldn’t go; we needed all three to be there.
That's when my heart almost escaped my chest. My eye's watered with the sound. Her voice.
"Daddy!" She called, running to the room. She stopped dead. The brainless two, found her, studying her with tilted heads and bulging eyes. Janey stood as if her pink gumboots were nailed through the heel into the floor.
I gasped. Claire stumbled in after her, and before she could scoop her up she stopped dead. Eyes wide. The truckers meandered forward sluggishly.
Mike was gone. The blades danced about, Joe didn’t stand a chance. The incision was as swift as a cat’s paw swipe. It came through his throat with a red spray and Janey let out a scream and turned into Claire, he was crouched and ready to pull her away. Mike knocked the shotgun clear and pounded at Joe's chest with the knives until he dropped.
McGregor’s eyes were shining red, he bared his teeth and in a lunge, he was on Mike. He wrapped him with arms and legs. I saw his lips peel back. Then his mouth closed on Mike’s neck. I was up drawing the knife back, then driving it forward. It was hard to break through the layer of leather and clothes and skin, into the flesh. After the first jab, I leaned on the handle pushing it deeper. I pulled his red hair back and with his head came a mouthful of Mike's bloody flesh. I pulled the knife from his back and ran it across his neck pressing hard until his body became rigid against mine and his grip loosened.
Mike’s hand was pressing against the hole in the side of his neck. Claire had receded with a sobbing Janey. I felt an overwhelming weakness, my knees trembled and my eyes were hot and running down my cheek. It was like a hole in the chest.
Mike Stood. It wasn’t over. The boy, the youngest of the truckers emerged from the bathroom. His eyes still white, his mouth open, shocked. Mike fell on the shotgun, snatching it up.
“No!” I screamed but it was too late. He squeezed.
The boy hit the bathroom door; holes appeared in his chest then washed away under the blood. His eyes were wide and white. Hand on chest. Blood seeped through his fingers. His brow fell half way over his eyes and a tear spilled over each cheek. He watched his chest heaving, in disbelief. He was a kid, a spectator like the young couple or Janey. He wanted to see the Cards win the world series. He wanted to drive away into the night, yet here he was. Lying in his blood.
I couldn’t look away; the boy was in the bathroom all along, his mind un-tampered by the fog. Something told me deep down Mike knew, the moment before he squeezed, he realised the boy was still one of us.
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