Holmes slammed into the first set of double doors which opened out into the short corridor between the mall and the car park stairs. He pushed his trollies in and shoved them towards the far end of the corridor, groaning with effort as he struggled with the cumbersome load.
‘I’m going back for more,’ Holmes said. ‘I’ll be a couple of minutes.’
He was gone before he’d given Heath chance to answer.
Tired and struggling, Heath moved his two trollies towards the car park staircase. He stood and stared at the huge pile of supplies they had gathered. Breathless, he tried to work out how much they would actually manage to get into the car and how they were going to get any of it upstairs.
Holmes was back. The sound of him crashing through the doors again startled Heath.
‘Come on,’ he hissed as he pushed two more trollies towards him. ‘Start getting stuff up to the car.’
Picking up several badly packed carrier bags and a heavy cardboard box, Heath began to climb the steep grey stairs back to the top level of the car park. Becoming increasingly annoyed by the older man’s lack of speed and fitness, Holmes followed close behind.
‘Get a bloody move on, will you?’ he shouted.
With his legs and arms heavy with effort, Heath pushed his way back out into the car park and dropped his bags and boxes on the ground. Holmes unlocked the car and they began to cram their supplies into the boot. Hiding behind the van, Clare started to get up.
‘Wait,’ Jack mouthed. He turned back and watched as the two men disappeared back down the stairs. ‘Let them load up the car first.’
A couple of minutes later and Holmes returned. He threw more goods into the boot of the blood-splattered car and then turned and ran back down again. Another couple of minutes and Heath emerged from the shadows again, closely followed by Holmes making his third trip. Jack couldn’t wait any longer.
‘Hey,’ he said, standing up and stepping out into the light.
‘Are you…?’
Holmes reacted instantly to the presence of an unexpected body. The fact that this body was communicating with him didn’t register. He turned to face Jack and, giving him as little regard as he would any one of the thousands of corpses dragging themselves along the streets, he dropped his shoulder and charged into him, sending him flying across the car park.
‘You stupid bloody idiot!’ Clare screamed, jumping up and pushing Holmes back against the car. ‘What the hell did you do that for?’
Realisation dawned. Holmes stood and stared at Jack as he rolled around on the cold ground, doubled up with pain. Heath pushed past him and helped Jack to his feet.
‘Get in the car,’ he shouted to Clare.
Stunned and in considerable pain but nevertheless relieved, Jack slowly made his way over to the car and opened the back door and collapsed onto the seat. Clare sat down next to him.
‘You okay?’ she whispered.
‘I’m all right,’ he replied, still clutching his chest and with his face screwed up in agony. His breathing was heavy.
Heath paced up and down anxiously in front of the car.
Holmes had disappeared again. Moments later and he re-emerged from the staircase, carrying yet more provisions including, Heath noticed, his precious beer. They loaded the boot until it was filled to capacity. Holmes casually threw the remaining carrier bags of food at Clare who grabbed hold of them as he slammed the door shut.
Heath introduced himself as he sat down in front of them.
‘I’m Bernard Heath,’ he said as Holmes started the engine and turned the car in a quick, tight arc. He drove at speed back towards the entrance to the car park as the sweat-soaked and overweight university lecturer next to him struggled to turn round and face Jack and Clare.
‘I’m Jack Baxter,’ he replied, still wheezing, ‘this is Clare.
Thanks for…
‘You with anyone else or are there just two of you?’ Holmes interrupted.
‘Just the two of us. What about you?’
‘There are about forty of us,’ Heath answered.
‘Does anyone know what’s happened?’ Jack asked hopefully.
Heath shook his head.
‘Haven’t got a clue,’ he replied and, with that, the brief conversation abruptly ended.
Holmes drove back down the entrance ramp and deep into the crowds of bodies, destroying any of them unfortunate enough to stumble into his path.
11
‘I can’t do this,’ Paul said suddenly. It was the first time that either he or Donna had spoken for more than an hour.
‘Can’t do what?’
‘Stay here like this. I can’t handle it. I can’t just sit here knowing they’re out there waiting…’
‘Well you’re going to have to handle it, aren’t you? There’s not a lot else we can do.’
Still crouching in the training room where they’d hidden since the incident hours earlier, the two survivors knew that there were still bodies out on the landing. Occasionally Donna plucked up the courage to peer out through the window, immediately moving out of sight again at the faintest sign of activity in the corridor outside. She had spent the last hours trying to work out why the creatures were there at all. Had they been trapped by the heavy landing doors swinging shut, or had they made a conscious decision to wait there for the survivors to emerge again? Were they even capable of conscious decision making? It was impossible to tell.
Assuming that it had been sound that first attracted them to the tenth floor, Donna had come to the conclusion that it had been a domino effect of sorts that had drawn others to the scene.
It seemed logical that the noise made by the first body trying to force its way inside had attracted another which in turn had attracted another and another and so on…
‘So what are we going to do?’ Paul moaned. Christ, he really was beginning to irritate Donna now.
‘Jesus,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t know.’
‘We can’t sit here forever, can we?’
‘But what are we going to gain from leaving?’
‘We’re ten floors up here. The only way out is to go down the staircase and if any more of those things appear then we’re going to have a hell of a job trying to get through them when we need to get out, aren’t we?’
He was right. She didn’t bother to acknowledge him but she had to admit that he was right. Much as she wanted to stay hidden in the office, she knew that if she followed her earlier line of thinking through, then more and more of the bodies could be attracted to the scene until it became impossible for the two of them to get away. Her options looked decidedly bleak; take her chances with the diseased population or sit here and wait endlessly with this whinging mouse of a man. For a few seconds she sat and weighed up the odds before deciding it was time to move.
‘All right then,’ she said, ‘let’s do it. We’ll try and find somewhere safer, if anywhere’s going to be any safer, that is.’
She watched Paul’s face. He looked terrified. Although he had been the one who had suggested they leave, it was obvious that the grim reality of his suggestion was only just beginning to sink in.
‘But how?’ he stammered. ‘How are we going to get past them. We don’t know how many of them are…’
Donna thought for a moment.
‘Distract them,’ she said eventually. ‘There are doors at either end of the landing, aren’t there? We’ll draw them towards one end of the office and then get out through the other.’
Paul looked into space, thinking carefully. The expression on his face slowly began to change and Donna started to wonder whether she’d been hasty in her judgment of him. He had listened and he suddenly looked ready to overcome his obvious nervousness and take what was left of his life in his hands to leave the relative safety of the office.