Breathless - Swarm Book 2: (An Epic Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller), page 20
If she bounced or was crushed, he couldn’t tell. The last sound she’d made was to beg for forgiveness. His feet were leaden and his throat closed, there was nothing to do—nothing he could do, even if he’d wanted to—but stand in shocked silence.
“It happened so fast.” Brandon held up his hand. “She bit me.”
“Let me see.” Jeremy snapped to attention and took his son’s hand, inspecting the wound. “Nasty. We’re going to need to get that cleaned and dressed. The human mouth is a petri dish of…”
Brandon snatched his hand back, trembling.
“I’ve got some Neosporin spray in my pack.” He wanted to say something about Marj, but he couldn’t process her suicide. He’d gone into shut down. All he could cope with was his immediate surroundings. “Hold your hand above your head to keep the bleeding to a minimum.”
Brandon trotted by his side, hand held aloft.
Jeremy found his first aid kit, sluiced the wound with the water he’d held back, and sprayed the teeth marks with the over-the-counter medication. He couldn’t remember what you could contract from a human bite, other than “bad things.”
“Got any Paracetamol?” Brandon hadn’t switched from using British brand names for drugs.
“Tylenol. Yup.” He rattled the bottle. There were at least ten left. Plenty for their needs.
Brandon threw two pills back and drained the end of Jeremy’s water. “Thanks.”
“Keep it clean and dry.” He almost called Brandon ‘son,’ but pulled back at the last moment. They’d had three whole minutes of non-sarcasm; he didn’t want to mess with a good thing.
They sat side by side while the survivors picked their way through the detritus, gathering supplies that their owners would never use. It didn’t even strike Jeremy as ghoulish. It didn’t strike him as anything. He was numbed out and glad of it.
When Nash clapped his hands and called, “All right everybody! Let’s get moving! Let’s make some headway before dark!” Jeremy didn’t fault the man for being practical. Any other time he’d have judged Pit Bull for being cold and unfeeling, but with the amount of blood that had been shed on the Dome, that was the only way to cope.
The descending switchbacks quickly plunged them into the valley. Incinerated trees reached for the sky like black spires, and even with the mask, remnants of smoke left a burnt taste in Jeremy’s mouth and made his eyes water. White smoke hung in the air like fog. The ghostly forest was too quiet. The only noises were the crunching cinders, as he and his fellow hikers’ trudged down the soot-covered path, and the creaking and popping of the trees as they swayed in the wind.
Just as he’d suspected, the smoke was more dense than it had been up on the dome and the longer they walked, the more those without masks coughed. Even with a mask on, his lungs felt raw, his chest tight. He’d used his water to treat Brandon’s hand and he didn’t regret that, but he was parched.
They walked for an age, their pace slowed by those in the group, like Lucas and Tosh, who were injured. But with each step, with each switchback, the rushing of the Merced River grew louder and the already smoke-darkened sky grew more dark, until at last the group came upon the Mist and John Muir Trail Junction Outhouse. He took advantage of a little running water to wash his face. When he came outside, Lucas was waiting to talk to him.
“I guess this is it. Time to part ways.” Ahead the trail split. The John Muir Trail curved south toward Glacier Point while the Mist Trail continued west toward Curry Village.
“Best of luck, man,” Jeremy shook #1 DAD!’s hand. “I mean it.”
“You, too.” Lucas clapped him on the shoulder. “And I owe you one.”
His spirits lifted just a tad as he watched Lucas and Paul disappear down the trail. He’d made a lot of mistakes, but in that moment he’d done one thing right.
His moment of semi-peace was interrupted when Max’s coughing picked up. Just like the pilot, Max fell to his knees. He arched his back and grimaced as he peeled the backpack off, screaming in pain. His shirt came off with the pack. “It’s melted my skin.” He devolved into a coughing fit.
Tosh gasped. “Nash, his back!”
But instead of doing anything to help his friend, Nash just stood there, open-mouthed.
Jeremy stepped forward without thinking. He had no idea what to do, but someone had to do something.
Max’s back was flaming red. His skin was peeling, stripped away, and bloody. He coughed again, this time violently, then frantically yanked his mask down. Blood spurted from his mouth. He sucked in a wheezing gasp, his mouth open for too long. He clutched his neck as bloody tears leaked down his cheeks.
Jeremy grabbed a water bottle from someone’s hand; he didn’t know whose. The peeling skin reminded him of his mother’s eczema. “It’s a contact allergy,” she’d explained, showing him the hives blooming across her skin. “If I wash my hands in time, it won’t be so bad.” Jeremy opened the water bottle and poured half of it over Max’s back. The man roared in agony as rivulets of pink dripped down his spine.
Max went into another spasm of coughs as Jeremy fumbled frantically to open his first aid kit. There had to be something useful in it, but as he scanned the contents—antiseptic wash, Band-Aids, triple antibiotic ointment, gauze—he didn’t see anything that could soothe burns.
Blood flowed from Max’s nostrils and ears, thick lines of death running down his neck and chest. He opened his mouth wider, but no sound emerged, and then his body went tense, wracked with twisting convulsions. Eyes starting out of their sockets, Max fell forward, dropping so quickly he didn’t have time to put his arms out to stop himself. He landed flat on his face, open mouthed in the ashy dirt below, his body rigid and shaking.
Jeremy watched helplessly until Max fell completely still.
Tosh screamed and screamed and turned away, burying her face in Nash’s chest.
Max was dead.
Chapter 20
KIM WALKER. BACK OF JILLIBY, AUSTRALIA
A gust of wind rocked the van then dropped away as the silence lengthened between Kim and the young driver, Toby. Kim shivered, running her hands up and down her arms. Outside the night was darker than the inside of a pit, the only illumination the thin yellow light flowing from the windows of a house. Anything or anyone could be waiting in the deep black pools of shadows. But they’d been traveling along that remote back road for ages and had yet to pass another vehicle or spot another house. It was either approach the building and seek information about their exact location or turn around and attempt to backtrack their journey. They had to be close to Wyong, but a wrong turn off the old highway when a firestorm had erupted around them had resulted in hours wandering, lost, in the darkness.
A low moan emanated from Shannon lying on the narrow bed in the back of the van while her partner, Luke, remained unconscious on the floor, his breathing little more than tiny wheezing gasps. There was no time to waste. Those two needed a hospital. If she was going into labor, they were well and truly screwed. The last thing Kim wanted to do was deliver a baby with a man who was either high or coming down off a high.
When Toby gave no indication he intended to leave the safety of the van, Kim unclipped her seat belt. “I’ll do it.”
“Be careful,” Shannon whispered.
“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Kim paused and sent the other young woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She had this—she’d grown up surrounded by the Australian bush, was more aware than most of what dangers could lurk beneath the scrub or be coiled hidden in the straggling grass of a paddock. She ensured her mask was secure, and opened the door with a trembling hand. Jumping out of the van she forced herself to take the first step into the smoky haze. Then another. Then another. An insect whirred past as she reached the thigh-high wire fence separating the house-yard from the paddock and long drive where the others waited inside the van.
From inside the house, a dog burst into a barking frenzy.
A light flared to life on the front porch, the door banged open, and a man appeared. The man belched, thumped his chest and coughed. “What do you want?”
Stopping, Kim waved. “We’re lost. Can you tell us what road we’re on?”
“I’ve got no food here. Be off.”
“We’re not after your food, sir. We only want to know the name of the road that runs past your property.”
“Got no food. Get out of here.”
Kim caught the slur behind his words and hesitated, loath to walk any closer. She looked back at the van.
Toby wound down his window. “The dude’s drunk. Let me handle this.” He bent down and when he reappeared again, he held a rifle in his hands and a manic grin lit up his face.
Oh crap! Toby had a gun all this time! Her belly fell away into nothing while her internal warning bells shouted ‘Run!’ “What the…? Toby, for pity’s sake, put that gun away!”
“Chill, dude. I got this!”
And before Kim could do anything more than gasp, he’d opened the door, poked the barrel out of the van and pulled the trigger. A window shattered, showering glass over the veranda floorboards as the shot echoed through the bush.
Throwing herself to the dirt, Kim clapped her hands over her ringing ears, and Shannon screamed over and over.
The house owner hollered as he bolted behind his screen door, “What do you think you’re doing? You’re crazy. I’m getting my shotgun.”
Fighting the urge to hyperventilate, Kim compelled herself off her knees and, hunching over, staggered to the van where she wrenched the door open and fell onto her seat. “For heaven’s sake, Toby, stop shooting.”
Toby whooped and waggled the rifle in the air while Shannon’s sobs grew hysterical.
“You two are lunatics,” the man shouted from behind his door.
“Get us out of here. Now!” Kim slapped her open palms against the dashboard.
From inside the house a door slammed. A second later another gun went off and the van’s side mirror blew apart. Squealing, Kim ducked and uttered the only thing she could think of that might stop Toby from returning fire. “Toby! Come on, your gran is waiting.”
Toby dropped his rifle out of the window and started the engine. “I’m sorry, Gran. I’m sorry, Gran.” He burst into tears, hauled hard on the steering wheel and the van sped back down the drive.
When they reached the road and out of firing range, Kim found her voice. “What were you thinking? Pull over. Pull. Over. Now.”
Toby stopped the van on the grassy verge beside the road and buried his face in his hands while Kim gulped air and willed her body to stop shaking. Shannon’s sobs died to hiccups and Kim dug deep for calm. That girl needed her. She had to get it together. “It’s okay, Shannon. We’ll be alright.”
She sucked in another lungful through her nostrils then gagged as the stench of the van filled her airways. Flinging open the door, she leaned over and vomited onto the grass. When she finished, Kim washed her face and mouth with water from a bottle in her bag then stared at her trembling fingers.
Guns. Violence. Death. People dying before her eyes. People shooting at her. Everything now was so alien to the life she’d known before the fires had started. It was as if she’d been flung into an apocalypse movie with no script for her to follow.
“I’m sorry, dude,” whispered Toby.
“It’s okay.” She slumped into the seat and closed the car door, then sat there, rubbing her chest. No one spoke, even Shannon had stopped sobbing. Eventually, Kim stirred and fixed Toby with a stern glance. “Don’t take any more speed. You hear me?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. I got it for Gran. She said she wanted to feel good again. Then when all this stuff happened, I got so scared I took some.”
“Oh Toby, we’re all scared. But drugs aren’t the answer, for you or your gran. Wait here. I’m going to check that man’s letterbox.” Not waiting for an answer, she got out of the van and crossed the quiet road, wishing they’d done this to begin with. Using her phone flashlight, she opened the lid and spied the white gleam of envelopes. At last. A piece of good luck. An address.
Pulling at her lower lip with her finger she considered the house in the distance for several seconds before running down the drive until she reached the rifle lying in the grass. Scooping it up, she raced back to the van. All the while she cringed inside as she half expected to hear the explosion of a shot being fired and feeling its deadly force punching into her back.
Almost in tears she climbed into the van and stashed the weapon under her seat before reaching for the map again. “We’re near Jilliby.”
“My gun…”
“No! You can’t have it. Now, let’s get moving. We’ve been traveling northwest instead of southeast. We need to turn around. Twenty minutes tops and we should be at the hospital.” She shifted the map so he could see as she traced the route with her trembling fingertip.
Shannon squealed. “My water broke. Kim, help me.”
“I’m coming.” Kim went to leave her seat then paused. “Can you focus, Toby?”
“Yeah, dude. I can do this.”
“No more fooling around, OK?”
Toby started the car and pulled out onto the road. “I got it.”
“We’re depending on you. Just like your gran. So, don’t let us down.” Pushing past the seats, she skirted Luke to kneel beside the bed. After receiving a nod from Shannon, she lifted the hem of the woman’s dress and turned on her phone flashlight. Then she dropped the dress and smiled. “Good girl. You’ve begun to dilate.”
Shannon moved her head from side to side. “I’m too tired. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. Anyway, we’ll be at the hospital soon. All you have to do is hold back from pushing until we get there.”
“Luke. I want Luke.”
Kim brushed the girl’s damp hair from her red-rimmed eyes. “He’s here. How far apart are the contractions?”
“Ugh.” Her face scrunched up as she panted through another painful spasm. Gasping she relaxed again. “I’m not sure, maybe, about three minutes?”
How did that happen? Had the woman been in labor and not said anything? The world had gone mad. “Let’s start timing them.” Kim marked the time on her phone. “Let me know when the next one starts.” She jumped when Shannon reached over and clutched her hand.
“Don’t leave me.”
“You’re going to be fine.”
Shannon looked past Kim toward the shadowy cabin where Toby sat and lowered her voice. “I mean it. Don’t leave me with him.”
Kim followed the direction of her gaze then turning back slowly nodded. “I won’t leave you until you’re safe.”
“Thank you.” A soft sigh escaped her lips as Shannon closed her eyes.
Her heart stuttering, Kim jumped up and checked the girl’s pulse. A bit fast but still beating strong. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned her head against the faux timber cabinetry and placed her thumb tenderly over her phone’s screen saver, a baby photo of her daughter, Emma.
A few minutes later, Shannon stirred and moaned. “Ow—it’s starting up again. Hurts so much.”
“Try to breathe through each contraction.”
“Should it be like this? Awful then the next one is more like a dull ache?” Shannon’s fingers clenched into fists.
“You’re doing fine.” Kim lifted Shelley’s dress again, biting back her gasp at the sight of the blood running down the inside of her legs. Not an ordinary labor. Stopping and starting wasn’t a good sign. Shannon needed expert medical attention, and soon. All Kim could do was watch, hold her hand and be there. Not much when all she wanted was to take the girl’s pain from her. She would have done anything to have had someone with her during her own labor, but her father had been at the pub, as usual. Kim had learned at a young age to keep everyone else at a distance. And now here she was suddenly caring for total strangers.
As the van sped into the night, Kim stayed by Shannon’s side. “You’re going to be all right. You can do this. I’m here,” she said over and over, a mantra. Ten minutes later, cars passed them on the road, and they were soon back on the Pacific Highway.
Sweeping into the hospital’s carpark, the van’s headlights reflected off the chrome and metal of so many vehicles, Kim lost count. Toby killed the engine and Shannon’s low, keening howl prickled over Kim’s skin as if tiny hairs were being pulled out, one by one.
“We’ve arrived, Shannon. It’s going to be okay.” She squeezed the girl’s hand but Shannon simply blinked at her, her mouth continuing to make that pitiful noise. Kim crab-walked past the unconscious Luke to the front bucket seats where Toby rocked to and fro hunched over the steering wheel and whispering under his breath as he counted his fingers—over and over.
“You did good, mate.” Bending lower Kim surveyed the scene in front of them, her gut rolling over at the smoky haze. What she could see of the hospital revealed a long building, consisting of two stories that sat on a small rise of land with the parking areas in front. The majority of the building lay in darkness, however lights burned in windows near the emergency entrance, meaning the ICU still functioned. The buzzing stutter of a lone generator was clearly audible over the shouts and cries of people running all over the place, like ants scurrying away from a storm. Floodlights on both sides of the wide double-door emergency department entrance illuminated a good portion of the parking lot, which was jam packed with yelling people. Cars of all sizes, small trucks, ambulances and even a few police cars were parked anywhere they could and formed a massive blockade of metal. It would be impossible to navigate a way through to the hospital entrance unless on foot. Several vehicles had smashed into each other. Others had occupants still inside–and as far as Kim could tell, sat unmoving.
An ambulance peeled into the parking lot, zoomed past, and stopped a few yards away. Two paramedics rushed from the cab and ran to the rear doors. A second or two later, they stumbled through the smoky darkness and falling ash to the entrance hauling a stretcher between them. One paramedic held a drip and an oxygen mask shielded the patient’s face.
