After Life (Power Reads Book 2) Read online

  Time stopped.

  Her stomach plunged as she flew away from the rooftop, gravity pulling her down as her arms and legs clawed at the air as though she could swim toward the ladder. She felt a rush of cold air as she began to plummet downward. The ladder loomed up, the broad brick face of the chimney filling her vision. She reached out for the nearest rung and then she slammed into the hard metal with a bone jarring crash.

  Pain bolted through her fingers and wrists as she gripped the ladder and then through her thighs as they smacked down beneath her. Instinct kept her legs tucked back below the knee so that she didn’t break her shins or toes impacting the chimney. Her right temple smacked against the hard metal ladder but not hard enough to scare her.

  Christ, I did it.

  Arianna fumbled with her feet to find the rungs below her, and then she scrambled down the ladder until she was below the apartment’s rooftops and out of sight of the rapidly closing helicopter. She heard its rotors hammering the air as she climbed down and down to the alley below and finally, blissfully, stepped onto the ground.

  She dashed through the dense foliage across to the edge of the apartment block and peered around the corner.

  Overhead she could hear the thundering rotor blades as the second helicopter raced overhead. Arianna clung to the wall and did not move until the helicopter had passed over her and had begun to bank around for another pass. She could see the vivid television company markings and an open door on one side where a man was strapped into a seat behind a large camera.

  Hovering in front of the apartment building was the other helicopter, its guns smouldering wisps of blue smoke in the downwash from its blades.

  Arianna shifted position as the second helicopter passed out of sight behind the chimney, dashing back behind the brickwork and edging around it to keep the first helicopter just in sight. It flew in a wide arc and then headed back toward the apartment block. Arianna was wondering what on earth it was looking for when she heard a voice on a loudspeaker echo out over the noise of the engine and blades.

  ‘Come out with your hands in sight!’

  Her heart skipped a beat as the helicopter slowed and then hovered side–on to the apartment blocks.

  ‘Come out now or we will be forced to open fire!’

  Arianna clenched her eyes shut and hugged the bricks. They could be the enemy. They might want her dead. But if they were on her side, then perhaps they were saving her from Kieran Beck? Confusion swamped her senses as the voice rang out again.

  ‘Come out of the apartment with your hands up or we will open fire! This is your last chance!’

  Arianna stared at the helicopter and then to her disbelief she heard a couple of sharp cracks as an unexpected burst of gunfire erupted from inside the apartment. She saw the motorised gun in the helicopter shift position and a jet of flame flicker from its barrel in reply.

  Hundreds of high velocity rounds smashed into Alexei Volkov’s apartment in a shower of bullets that sent clouds of glass out into the sky like diamond chips. The chattering machine gun raked across the face of the building, forcing Arianna to cover her ears against the noise as she heard minor blasts from within the apartment as electrical devices were shattered by the hail of bullets.

  The helicopter hovered for several more moments and then it banked and turned away. The deafening noise finally abated enough for Arianna to lift her hands away from her ears, and on unsteady legs she slowly emerged from her hiding place and stepped out into the street once more.

  Alexei Volkov’s apartment was completely destroyed, fires burning within as the once immaculate upholstery blazed and spat thick black clouds of smoke up into the blustery sky. Debris littered the street beneath the apartment, glass and warped window frames.

  Above the sound of the crackling flames, she heard voices.

  ‘Stay low, keep out of sight!’

  ‘I am!’

  Arianna ducked to one side of the street and hugged the brickwork as she saw two men running down the street in front of the apartment block. With a start of alarm she recognised Han Reeves and Myles Bourne running to a stop in front of the building. Police. Arianna was careful not to move, holding her long hair back out of sight with one hand as she watched the two men look up at the building.

  Bastards. They were trying to kill her.

  As she watched she saw Han, a pistol in his hand, shake his head and bang the butt of the weapon against his temple. She frowned as Bourne patted the detective on the shoulder as though consoling him. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but it appeared that Han was either disappointed or perhaps even angry.

  ‘Don’t move.’

  The voice was a harsh whisper that sent a chill down her spine, made worse by the cold tip of a gun that touched the nape of her neck.

  ‘Back up,’ the voice urged as a hand closed like a vice around her arm.

  She turned to see two hooded men standing behind her. From somewhere inside she managed to dredge her voice back up.

  ‘They’re police.’

  The man who held his gun to her neck smiled, revealing a row of rotten, stained teeth barely visible against the shadowy interior of his hood.

  ‘We know.’

  She was considering shouting out to Han for help when the two thugs looked up. Arianna turned to see Han edge forward toward the shuttered entrance to the apartment block. Han’s face collapsed as he yelled at Bourne.

  ‘Down, now!’

  The two men hurled themselves across the street as the entire apartment block exploded and vanished in a ball of expanding flame and smoke. Arianna flinched as the shockwave hit her, a cloud of roiling smoke and flame billowing up into the turbulent sky as the helicopter rolled away from the blast. Chunks of brickwork and masonry showered past the chimney where Arianna crouched with her hands over her ears.

  Arianna ducked her face away as the building collapsed entirely, Han and Myles vanishing in the expanding cloud of debris as she was yanked away by the two hooded men.

  ***

  22

  Bayou La Tour

  Louisiana

  Marcus did not consciously think about what he was doing.

  He heard Kerry’s scream and without considering any danger he launched himself down the corridor toward her. The sound of helicopter blades seemed to appear from nowhere to shake the entire compound and he quickly saw that the airlock was wide open, hot wind gusting dangerously into the compound from outside.

  ‘Kerry?!’

  He ran outside and staggered as the helicopter’s downwash slammed into his back and sent him reeling across the ground as clouds of dust swirled in the sunlight. The hot air snatched his breath from his lungs as he squinted up into the bright sky and saw a huge twin–bladed helicopter hovering above the ground on the far side of the compound.

  He heard another scream and turned to see Kerry sprawled on her back in the dust nearby as a figure clawed at her. Marcus hauled himself to his feet and ran at the figure. In the swirling dust clouds he could barely make out the faces of the two people struggling for their lives, but it mattered little to him as raw fury seethed through his body.

  A man was crouched over Kerry, his tongue hanging out as he tried to lick her face, his hands pinning hers to the ground.

  Marcus swung a boot up into the man’s jaw, felt the thump as his steel toe–caps impacted into the man’s face, felt a crunch as the jawbone shattered. Marcus’s boot swung up and through the man’s face and to his surprise he saw the entire jawbone rip from the man’s skull and spin away into the sunlight in a spray of blood.

  The man’s eyes rolled up into their sockets as he was flung from Kerry’s body and hit the ground on his back. Kerry screamed again and lurched to her feet, her face plastered in dirty tears and thick blood staining the side of her hand as she held it to her neck and crouched over her pain.

  For a long moment Marcus did not understand, and then a dawning horror crept upon him as he turned and saw the helicopter l
ift up and swing away to the north. He looked down at the man he had attacked and saw that his face was a bloodied mess, his tongue hanging from his ruined jaw like a bright pink snake. But his body was already covered in lesions from which hung tattered ribbons of blackened, dead flesh and his body was almost skeletal, emaciated. His eyes were stained yellow as though from jaundice and his nails had fallen out along with much of his hair.

  Marcus didn’t say the word, but he thought it just the same. Apophysomyces.

  Marcus whirled and saw the compound airlock still open.

  ‘Come on!’

  He grabbed Kerry’s arm and dragged her toward the airlock as from the far side of the compound he saw figures limping, crawling and trotting toward him.

  ‘Oh please, no!’ he gasped.

  The people were infected, staggering on decaying limbs and struggling under the oppressive heat. Marcus hauled Kerry toward the airlock, trying to keep track of the figures circling the compound toward him. He was only a few yards from the airlock but they had less ground to cover, their eyes set upon him. In the silence after the helicopter’s deafening departure, he could hear their groans and pleas.

  ‘Kerry, move!’

  Kerry was shuffling, one hand still stifling the blood spilling from her torn neck, but she looked up and saw the figures looming toward her and then started for the airlock with renewed urgency.

  Marcus was almost there when, within, he saw Dr Reed standing and watching them. Something about Reed’s expression sent a lance of apprehension bolting down Marcus’s spine.

  ‘Keep the door open!’ Marcus yelled.

  Dr Reed’s face was stricken with regret, so deeply riven into his features that Marcus knew the old man’s grief was not feigned, despite his holographic visage. Slowly, the holosap reached up to a light–panel on the wall.

  ‘What are you doing?!’ Kerry yelled at Reed.

  ‘Don’t shut the door Reed!’ Marcus shouted. ‘Don’t do this!’

  Dr Reed looked down, unable to meet Marcus’s eyes.

  Then, slowly but agonisingly quick enough for Marcus prevent it from happening, the airlock door hissed shut.

  ‘No!’

  Kerry reached the door and screamed as she pummelled it with her fists, leaving bloody stains all over the surface. Marcus saw Dr Reed still standing inside the airlock, perfectly able to step outside but for the guilt that must be wracking the old man’s mind.

  ‘I’ll kill you!’ Marcus shouted, not caring how ridiculous the threat sounded. ‘I’ll find a way and I’ll kill you!’

  Kerry stepped away from the door and looked left and right. Figures were lurching toward them, arms outstretched as they begged through ruined mouths for food and water, eyeing both Marcus and Kerry hungrily.

  ‘Shit, Marcus!’ Kerry shouted, unable in her pain and terror to formulate a more useful response.

  Marcus looked up at the airlock and turned to her.

  ‘Give me your boot,’ he urged as he cupped his palms at waist level.

  ‘What?!’

  ‘I’ll boost you up!’ Marcus shouted. ‘Hurry!’

  Kerry lifted her foot up into his hands and Marcus launched her up onto the airlock roof, the aluminium construction bowing slightly beneath her weight but holding. Kerry scrambled to safety and then turned, reaching down for him.

  ‘Come on!’ she yelled.

  Marcus looked left and right and knew that he had no time. Hands reached out to touch him and he whirled away and sprinted from the compound toward the dense mangrove swamps nearby.

  ‘Marcus!’

  A hand grabbed his neck and squeezed hard. Marcus swung his left arm across and batted the hand aside, felt the nails of the fingers scrape perilously hard across the skin of his neck as he staggered backward from the emaciated woman reaching out for him, her eyes laden with pain and horror, her mouth open in a scream silenced by dehydration and rotting vocal chords. A rush of stale, fetid breath wafted across his face and he retched, staggering backwards.

  Marcus grabbed a desiccated branch lying on the ground and with a grunt of effort swung it at the woman’s face as she advanced. The branch smacked into her temple and shattered as she span away and collapsed into the dust. Faces loomed closer, some laced with ugly tattoos, others with twisted scar tissue deforming their already ruined faces.

  ‘Marcus!’

  He heard Kerry’s cry above the sound of the groaning, infected horde that turned and lumbered after him as he whirled and sprinted away, their footfalls pursuing him in a clumsy stampede. Some fell on the rugged ground, unable to walk on crumbling legs and with their brains and spinal columns turning to mush inside their bodies. He glanced over his shoulder and saw them, eyes fixated on him, toothless mouths hanging open and drooling with thick white saliva encrusted on their lips and chins.

  He heard no cries of rage or hunger from them, just a muted chorus of misery from the dying as they begged in their own exhausted way for some kind of release from their suffering. Marcus ran harder and plunged into the thick cover of the nearby forest, rushing between the trees as clouds of insects swirled and buzzed on the hot air.

  The danger of mosquito bites was not at all lost to Marcus, as was the hazard of using wet soil to protect his skin. One open wound, one lesion in the skin coated with soil, could infect him.

  He reached down as he ran and scooped up a handful of moist soil and wiped it across his neck and face, up his arms and on his hands. There was little he could do about the odds of becoming infected, except to console himself that while the soil–to–skin contact might infect him, an infected mosquito bite certainly would infect him. Play the odds, Marcus.

  A thousand thoughts rushed through his head as he ducked under twisted mangroves and leapt over buttresses of thick saw grass. The helicopter had to have been military because nobody flew anything anymore: fuel was more valuable than gold or diamonds these days. Although Marcus could not fathom why, for some reason Dr Reed had called in the military to clean the compound out and kill both Kerry and himself. Maybe it was Dr Reed who wanted to isolate the genes and take the glory for the discovery that saved mankind? He’d said as much himself. But the genes had not yet been tested, not on a human being anyway, so how could he be sure of success?

  A new and terrifying possibility slithered through the vaults of his mind as he searched through the swamp for a route back to the compound, trying to move quickly and quietly while also desperate to avoid scratching himself on any foliage or trees.

  Marcus slowed, breathing heavily in the humid air and listening to the billions of insects humming through the swamp. He glanced behind him and saw that his pursuers had fallen behind, blundering awkwardly through the mangroves. Quietly, Marcus eased his way through the forest on a wide circle around them as he turned back toward the compound. His main concern now was Kerry. Having been bitten she had perhaps just a few hours before the infection would spread through her bloodstream, reaching every corner of her body and beginning the horrific process of rotting her flesh from the inside out.

  The Falling was in so many ways a classic zombie–like sickness, playing out like the script of a horror movie. Victims were reduced to shambling, groaning automatons desperate for food and water, increasingly unable to seek it for themselves. But far from being voracious consumers of human flesh, the true horror was their desperation. They keened and cried and begged for release, adults and children alike. The sickness dehydrated and starved them in cruel unison, driving them insane until they were far into the realms of diminished responsibility.

  Marcus fought back tears as he recalled images of parents eating their children and vice versa, of troops unwilling to open fire on the suffering masses, understanding their pain and that they were not an enemy, not a predator. They were simply desperate beyond all imagination for surcease. By the time the military gave the order to fire at will in cities all over the world, that doing so was not genocide but virtually an act of kindness, the infection was far too widespre
ad to be stopped.

  The reality of a global pandemic was not one of a last minute miracle cure, or a heroic last stand against mindless zombie hordes. It was a tragedy of the human spirit quashed by unimaginable horror, with no end or saviour in sight for either the infected or the few terrified survivors.

  And now the holosaps were turning against their human creators.

  Why? The question returned to him over and over again. Why had the military tried to silence them? Why had Dr Reed betrayed them? And where the hell did they get a group of infected humans from? Most people had died years before out in the wilderness, decades before in fact, when the cities had become quarantined against the spread of the infection. Some had since fallen silent as, somehow, The Falling had broken through and decimated their populations. Others, like New York, survived still on a meagre supply of fuel and grain harvested from unyielding permafrost to the north.

  The answers that sprang forth from his imagination terrified him. What if the humans had been deliberately infected for some reason? In his memory he saw their clothes, ragged but not old, their faces, many of them tattooed or bearing the scars of savage fights. Convicts, or perhaps criminals? Maybe tests were being run, a vaccine sought elsewhere in secret military experiments that nobody wanted to hear about?

  Marcus began to wonder what else the military might be up to out here. The compound was supposed to be the only inhabited place south of Georgia in the entire continental United States: he and Kerry had been brought down the coast by boat, the only safe way to travel. A helicopter probably only had a range of a few hundred nautical miles, so where was it based and why had it undertaken such a risky mission in the first place? And if the military or the government wanted them dead, why not just use a missile to destroy the compound?

  The answer leaped out at him: Kerry’s discovery.

  They wanted it, and for whatever reason he and Kerry were not to be a part of it. He could imagine the cover–up, reported by Dr Reed: either Kerry or Marcus had failed to secure the airlock properly. The infection had got inside the compound. It was a tragedy but there was no option but to abandon them to their fate.