The Last Invasion (Isolation Z Book 4) Page 3

  “You go and enjoy the rest of the day,” he added, “And don't mention the job to Marc. I'll handle that later.”

  She had reached the door.

  “Thanks again, Greg,” she said warmly.

  He smiled fondly at her.

  “Happy to help,” he replied.

  Then she left and he sat down again, checking through patient notes, before hitting the intercom to let the receptionist know he was ready for his next patient.

  In a room further up the corridor, Christian opened up the door and walked in to find Kara resting on top of a bed, Greg had cut out the worst of the bite, cleaned the rest and stitched and dressed her arm. She looked pale, but the painkillers had kicked in and as she turned her head, she glared at him angrily.

  “Don't worry, I'm out of here soon. Doc Fitzroy said I had to rest for an hour. I'll be gone in ten minutes.”

  “Well he has patients until mid day,” Christian replied, “I think that was his way of making you rest for a while. You've been through a lot.”

  “Like you care! You had to tell him it was my fourth bite! He checked my notes and he wasn't too happy with me when he found out I wanted a virus child. That's your fault.”

  Christian did not react to her anger as he approached the bed, then he pulled up a chair and sat down.

  “You're clearly determined to have a virus child. I don't blame you for that, I think those kids are great – when they grow up, they could well be ones who put an end to the undead situation.”

  His words confused her.

  “But you said no to me! You were so against me doing this! What's changed your mind?”

  He shrugged.

  “I can see you really want this, Kara. Unfortunately I can't do much to help, I can only suggest you stop risking your life to become positive and find a bite virus positive man. I'd help you if I could but I'm negative.”

  He was looking at her thoughtfully. In the middle of his panicked moment as he recalled how he had messed up the dosage when experimenting on Flint, he had wondered what else could be done in a positive way with the bite virus. It had occurred to him that perhaps more virus kids coming into the world could one day form an army that would easily wipe out the hordes... the more of these children born, the better for the future...

  He paused, gathering his thoughts.

  “You must have been desperate to risk your life like that. I'm pretty sure you'll do it again if there's no other way. Therefore, I'm going to try and see if I can find a donor for you...I'll speak to all bite virus positive guys on record and see if one would like to help. It would have to be anonymous, of course...”

  “But I've spoken to a lot of guys who could have helped and they all said no!”

  “Just let me try for you,” Christian replied, “I may have better luck.”

  “Why are you doing this for me?” she asked, sitting up and cautiously moving her bandaged arm, at once relieved to learn the pain was bearable.

  “I've decided to help. I can see how much you want to do this and... I like you, Kara. I'd like to help as a friend, if you'll let me.”

  She was starting to see Christian in an new light.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that,” she replied.

  He smiled, feeling his face flush as their gaze briefly locked, then he checked his watch.

  “Greg will be busy with patients for a few hours yet... I think you're okay to go home now. But you must rest. And come back and see me next week, on Friday. I may have some good news by then.”

  As she got up gratitude shone in her eyes.

  “Thank you so much for this, Christian!”

  He smiled warmly.

  “Don't thank me yet. I shall try my best. Just do one thing for me?”

  “Anything,” she replied, “What's on your mind?”

  “Don't get bitten again,” he said, “that's all I'm asking.”

  For a moment their gaze lingered, then she left and he stood alone in the treatment room, feeling a little more optimistic about Kara – perhaps if he could help her with this, their friendship would grow... he hoped so. In this new world where life was strange and nothing beyond the town offered more than death at the hands of ravenous zombies, meeting a woman who made his heart skip a beat was a rare occurrence. He just hoped that if he couldn't help her, she would still think of him as a friend, because otherwise, he had nothing to try and build on - and living in this town could get very lonely sometimes...

  Down at the beach, the waves were calm as they lapped at the shoreline. After meeting with John and spending the morning examining the beach front and possible weak points, they had drawn up a new watch plan together consisting of ten extra guards, placed to the north end of the island, where the sea met with land on the rough ground that led across to the far end of the sea wall. The rest of the watch would remain scattered about the points where the gates led down to the sea. Today Marc was starting his shift, and the guy who was meant to be on duty with him had not showed up. He checked his watch, decided to give him a quick reminder about time keeping when he did show, then he took a walk down to the sand.

  Here he was at a point where the wall came to a sharp turn, along with the coast line. It felt like a lonely spot, but the pale yellow sand was pitted with shells and the water rolling to shore carried nothing but sea weed and white foam that looked like a roll of silk. Beyond that, the sun kissed waters reflected sparkles. His eyes suddenly ached. He blinked, feeling as if he had been looking at the sun instead of the water as his vision distorted and the light on the water danced in his eyes. He staggered, then felt dizzy as he looked again to the water.

  That strange turn had just made him feel uneasy, it had reminded him of a time far off, a dark and terrible time before the end of the old world, when dizziness and stumbling and painful eyes had been the start of a nightmare that had seen him diagnosed with a brain tumour. Greg had paid for the best surgeon, his best friend's money had saved his life. A sickening thought hit him that made his heart race in fear:

  What if it was back? There were no hospitals now, only the medical centre and although it was well equipped, Christian was not a brain surgeon. No one would be able to help him. No, please god, not that, it couldn't be that...

  He drew in a sharp gasp to fight the rising wave of panic that threatened to wash over him as another pain shot through his vision. He tried to focus on the water, but the light reflecting off the waves seemed to knock him side ways as it stabbed at his eyes and he fell hard to the sand, on his side, staring at the rolling surf. Then the world was gone, he knew nothing more as his eyes rolled and his body jerked and he had a seizure.

  While he was on the sand, far out at sea, the light caught on the binoculars used by a lone figure in a small rowing boat, who watched as the undead creature rose from the sea, its clothing tattered, its skin decayed, it was draped in sea weed that hung over one shoulder and as it extended a hand towards the living prey that lay shuddering on the sand, its dead eyes set on its victim, as it waded out of the shallows and on to the beach.

  The tide washed past its wet and scuffed boots, wiping away all trace of sand as the rolling water pulled back once more. The pull of the surf was behind the creature now. Its hair hung in thin strands, its mouth contorted into a snarl as it shuffled forward leaving dragging marks in the sand as it headed towards the man on the beach. It parted blackened lips and rotted teeth snapped together as it gave a low growl. A small crab scuttled from its parted lips and dropped to the seaweed that covered its shoulder, then it fell to the sand and skittered off as the zombie sniffed the air. Now it lumbered faster towards Marc, who was now still, the seizure had stopped but his eyes were closed, he was on his side and his clothing and face partly covered with grains of damp sand. He heard the roll of the tide, opened his eyes and saw a flash of the past – an undead creature was lumbering towards him. No, no, that was long ago, he was sure the island was long gone...

  His mind felt blankly confused, as if a few facts tu
mbled about in there but none formed any kind of sense. Then he smelled decay and turned on his back, feeling wet sand beneath him as he looked up and a shadow loomed over him. The creature roared and lunged, landing on him with force.

  Marc slammed a fist against its throat, knocking its head back as his other hand reached for his gun. He was still confused, wondering if this was the island or... that other place they had gone to, its for now name escaping him lost in haze, his thoughts were still drifting. But this creature was real, it was on him, it was snapping its jaws.

  A single gunshot rang out and the zombie's brains exploded in a mess as the gun jammed in its mouth sent a bullet through its head that ripped through its brain as the top of its skull flew off and landed in the surf. Brain matter was scattered about the sand as the sea rolled in and out like the water was trying with its pull to wash away the mess. Marc rolled, shoving the dead weight off him, then he sat up, still feeling slightly dazed as his thoughts collided and came back together. He was shaking as he holstered his gun and got to his feet, then as he heard shouts he turned to see others come running, their guns drawn.

  “It was just the one... it crept up on me... I think we're clear now. We should run a check around the whole wall just in case,” he added, brushing sand from his face and hair.

  “How did it get that close?”

  “Are you okay, mate? You look pale?”

  Two guys had fired off questions at the same time and he didn't care to answer either with the truth - he wasn't ready to consider what that truth could mean just yet.

  “It was an isolated attack, I'm sure of it. Just a floating corpse that got washed in. But we should comb the area to be sure.”

  They nodded, then one man joined more men who had turned up and they went left as the others went right, leaving Marc alone on the beach with the corpse. He looked down at it, then scanned the water, but saw no sign of more arising from the depths.

  “Just my bad luck,” he murmured as he looked to the waves, but the remark had not been about the corpse attack – it was just his bad luck that life had finally been going good, until he had blacked out on the sand. He knew that feeling. Something cold and worse than that undead corpse seemed to be creeping up on him now, it was a reminder that maybe he had not cheated death after all: He had just suffered a seizure. He felt sick with fear. If the tumour was back, he was a dying man...

  Vicki had reached home just as Cleo was taking the kids out to the park. Vicki had told her about Greg's offer to help her get some work.

  “That man of yours is awesome!” Vicki had said, then she had laughed, “I don't mean... you know, not that way, I mean, he's awesome for helping me... I don't still hold a candle for him.”

  Cleo laughed too.

  “Of course you don't, I know that... by the way, that bitch next door has been complaining about the kids again. I thought I'd take them out for the afternoon.”

  “She should try complaining when Greg gets home,” Vicki replied.

  “I hope she does,” Cleo told her, “He'll soon give them both a piece of his mind!” Then she was gone out the door as Zodiac ran on ahead and she yelled to him to come back NOW as she pushed the pram along the road.

  Vicki closed the door and she was still smiling. She wanted to tell Marc about the job but of course, it had to come from Greg because Marc was so against the idea. She didn't blame him, he had seen her struggle with her fragile sanity ever since the day they had first met when the chopper had saved her and her sister from the fishing boat where they had been trapped with two attacking zombies. So much had happened over the years, too much to think about... but she was happy today and she wanted to stay that way.

  She went upstairs, put her meds in the bathroom cabinet, then she went back downstairs, into the kitchen and poured herself a tall glass of iced lemonade.

  Ever since settling here, this had been the closest to normality she had ever known – after Flint's demise, this town had come together in such a way that resembled normal life that she felt even more at home here than she had back on Wolfsheer Island. And her and Marc had never been closer, their love never deeper. It seemed like nothing could go wrong now...

  By the time she had gone into the front room and looked out the window, Marc was walking towards the house. She watched the way the sunlight shot highlights through his dark hair, then her gaze ran over his toned, sun kissed shoulders and she watched the sway of his hips wrapped in black denim as he approached the house. She wanted to take him in her arms and love him, he was back early and she had no clue why, but all she wanted to do was take him by the hand and lead him up to the bedroom.

  Moments later the key turned in the lock and he came in along with a cooling rush of fresh sea air. He closed the door and turned to her, she stood there looking into his eyes with a smile on her face.

  “Home early... and the house is empty! Let's go upstairs, Marc!”

  She wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her, welcomed her kiss as tears filled his eyes, then he pulled back as he struggled not to weep. All the way home he had been silently debating, should he tell her or not tell her... But he couldn't keep the part about the zombie quiet – that would be all over town soon because news travelled fast. If she found out there was a strong possibility he was ill again, it could make her fall apart and she had been doing so well... But he had finally decided, if he left it until he had to tell her, it would be much worse. She needed to prepare for this. She needed time to get used to the fact that he may not be around for much longer.

  “Marc?” she said, noticing his troubled expression, “Is something wrong?”

  He looked into her eyes and in that moment she saw such despair her own expression changed to one of deepest concern. His heart began to ache. He had to get this over with.

  “We need to talk. Something has happened.”

  He led her through to the front room and they sat down together on the sofa. By now he could almost hear the hammering of her heart as an anxious expression came to her eyes. He took hold of her hand, then began to explain.

  “I was alone on patrol today – the other guy was late. I was attacked. A zombie washed in, I didn't see it coming. I'm not bitten or scratched, I'm fine, I blew its brains out. The teams have searched and there are no others out there, this was an isolated incident...”

  He paused, for a moment he had seen a flicker of fear in her eyes but now it was gone.

  “It was just the one?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you're okay?”

  “I wasn't injured, Vicki.”

  He looked at her. She looked back at him. There was more, she could tell and it worried her deeply, but if the incident had been isolated and he wasn't wounded, why the hell was he looking so worried?

  “So everything is fine, you said it was just the one out there and it didn't injure you. I guess that means it was just a horrible shock.”

  He gave a heavy sigh. His grip on her hand tightened.

  “Vicki,” he said, and his eyes glazed with tears he still held back, “It crept up on me because I was on the ground, I was on the sand. I regained consciousness just in time to shoot it as it lunged at me. I was able to remember where I was, what was happening, and go for my gun.”

  He fell silent again. His heat was aching deeply now. There was no easy way to break it to her.

  “Why were you on the ground?” she asked.

  His voice trembled as he gave his reply.

  “I had a seizure. Just like before, in the old world, before the apocalypse. It was the same kind of seizure the brain tumour used to cause. I think it's back. I might be wrong but if it is, Vicki – Christian can't remove it. If I'm right about this, all he can do for me is try and control the seizures and tell me how long I have left. Before, when Greg paid for my treatment, I had maybe two months left without the surgery. But I'd been ill for a while, trying not to worry too much about the symptoms. Maybe it's different this time, maybe I have much longer.”


  “Or maybe you're wrong!” she said as tears filled her eyes, “You're not dying, no, you are wrong. I love you so much, you can't be dying, this isn't happening, not to us, not now...”

  She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight,she touched his face, then swept back his dark hair where beneath, the faded surgical scar was visible. Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked into his eyes.

  “You're not dying, I won't let this happen!”

  “If I'm right, we can't stop this,” he said softly as his own tears began to show, “We have to see Christian and find out for sure and if it is bad news, we have to accept it and face it together.”

  At this point Vicki crumbled.

  “I don't want to lose you!” she wept, and he pulled her back into a strong embrace, holding her as she sobbed against his shoulder and another terrible fear hit him as he wondered how she would cope, if the worst happened and he wasn't able to be strong for her any more...

  Chapter 3: Deja vu

  Greg had left after his shift at the medical centre had ended, he had left while Christian was busy with a patient so he didn't get asked to stay longer and help with paperwork and patient records. It was a lovely day and he wanted to get home quickly and spend time with his family. As he walked towards the house, he was already making plans. Maybe drinks in the garden tonight, spend some time with his best friend as they talked about the future. The past had been rough, ever since the undead had taken over, from the oil rig to Wolfsheer to their ordeal on ending up here in Circus while Flint had been in charge, it had been a hellish journey. But the town was safe now, the bad times were over and life could only get better from here... He unlocked the door and went inside,.

  “Hi guys, I'm back!” he called out.

  His voice echoed about the hallway, and there was no reply. This was odd, because at this time of day in the late afternoon, someone was always home.