The Dust: Book Three - Sanctum Page 19

  Jeremiah Rosser had moved a few yards from the others. He was watching the battle progress. Studying how the Infected were luring the Purebloods into a trap, he could see there were another thirty savages ready to pounce the moment the Purebloods entered the gorge.

  This was good. Fighting the Infected they could handle. Whether it was picking them off a few at a time over a month, or a full assault, their little band of warriors were used to fighting them.

  The Purebloods were something else though. An organised army, heavily armed. What they lacked in tactical nous they gained in sheer numbers.

  He turned to the others. ‘I’m with Roger. We don’t need to get ourselves killed today.’ He smiled.

  He then turned away to watch the battle unfold when he went ice cold. There, standing at the back, studying the battle from the other side of the Haytor rocks, was Emma Davis.

  Jeremiah’s hands tightened. The bruises that still littered his body seemed to pulsate. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth started to squeak under the pressure.

  ‘Leila K.’ He muttered to himself. ‘I’m back.’

  With that, he grabbed his gun and box of ammunition and jumped from the safety of the smaller boulders, and ran towards the Haytor rocks.

  Jake saw him first. ‘Shit, shit. What’s he doing?’

  Roger shouted after the old farmer, but to no avail.

  ‘Fuck this.’ Angel, with her gun in hand, ran after him.

  Naomi looked at Harry James, then Roger. ‘This is it.’ With that she was chasing Angel.

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Roger roared. He looked over to his friend Jake, but it was too late. He and Harry James were also sprinting towards the Haytor rocks.

  ‘Christ on a bike.’ Roger loaded his gun. ‘Looks like today, we die. ‘Then he too joined the assault.

  ***

  ‘I’m going in.’ Davis was a fighter, not a voyeur.

  ‘Are you mad?’ The Doyen asked. ‘You don’t need to.’

  ‘Lead from the front, that’s my motto.’ Davis, armed to the hilt, marched to the edge of the rock. Taking careful aim, she let out two shots. Two Naked men fell from the stone. Their battle was done. ‘Are you coming?’ She looked back at the Doyen. ‘It will be fun.’

  Reluctantly, he grabbed his automatic assault rifle. He would join the skirmish; behind Davis though.

  Several Purebloods peered over the edge, and looked down into the ravine.

  Instantly, large metal poles, sharpened at the end, thrust upwards into the unsuspecting faces. The piecing screams could be heard for miles around.

  A dozen Infected foot soldiers then surrounded at least twenty or so Purebloods, and rushed them towards the gorge.

  A volley of shots cracked through the sky, but it was too late. The naked torsos that fell had done their job. A small sacrifice for the overall cause.

  All the Purebloods fell over the edge. Those that gripped to the ledge were speared by the metal pikes.

  The Infected had turned the battle around. Slashing as they went, using bits of broken helicopter fashioned into daggers, they moved back across the rocks.

  White overalls turned crimson, as bodies slid form the granite and fell to the moor.

  Emma Davis could see the carnage that confronted her. ‘You.’ She shouted. ‘Come with me.’

  A stocky man with a wispy ginger beard looked over at the female voice calling out to him.

  ‘Come with me, god damn it.’ Davis didn’t suffer fools gladly, and this was no time to be fucking about. ‘And bring him.’

  The stocky man looked to where she was pointing. A large man in tight white overalls loomed behind him. A large scar ran across his head, it looked fresh. ‘Hey, you.’ He shouted in his harsh Liverpudlian accent.

  ‘What do you want?’ The large man punched a naked woman, bearing down on her so hard that she was lifted off her feet.

  Taffy.’ The stocky man noticed the South Wales accent. ‘She wants us to follow her.’ He pointed at Davis, who was now leaping over dead bodies like a mountain goat to get closer to the front line.

  ‘Let’s go then.’ The large Welshman joined forces with the smaller man. Stooping low they followed the woman into battle.

  ***

  ‘Jeremiah!’ Angel screamed.

  The old farmer was too busy battering everything in his path to listen.

  A naked woman faced him. He swiped her away like a drowsy fly with the butt of his gun. A shaven headed man confronted him. Jeremiah gave him a right uppercut, and then kicked him off the granite rock like a deflated football. He was on a mission, and he only had one woman in his sights.

  ‘Stop!’ Jake yelled at Angel, and grabbed her shoulder.

  ‘Jeremiah!’ She shouted back to her boyfriend.

  ‘Let him go, he will look after himself.’

  Before she could answer gun fire broke out, and Jake threw her to the ground. ‘It’s too dangerous. We must move over there.’ He pointed to where the Purebloods were attacking from.

  She nodded in agreement.

  They both moved fast; ducking and diving as they clawed their way across the moor.

  Jake took pot shots at anything that came close, but nothing fell from the rocks.

  ‘We need to attack from behind.’ He stopped her and pointed to a few Purebloods who were bringing up the rear. ‘It’s our only chance.’

  Angel kissed Jake on the cheek. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

  Roger could see Harry James tussling with an infected savage. Before he could take aim Naomi struck the assailant with a rock.

  ‘Over here!’ He called over to them, but it was too noisy. The screams of the dying were now drowning out any chance of communication.

  Roger ran towards the two of them. Just as he was about to reach them he got knocked off his feet. He didn’t see who had hit him.

  Shaking his head he picked himself up. That’s when he saw the white overalls.

  ‘Who are you?’ The young man called out to him.

  Roger couldn’t understand what he was saying. He shook his head once more.

  The sharp pain in his left arm was sickening. He spun around and crashed to the grassy floor. His upper arm felt as though it was on fire and he couldn’t move his hand. He looked at his jacket; there was a small smoking hole.

  ‘Fuck!’ He cried out. He knew he had been shot. Looking up he could see the white overalls once again. He could also see the glint of the metal barrel.

  Ignoring the pain, Roger moved fast. The whizz of the bullet screeched past his head, and that was followed by the gunfire. He was a sitting duck.

  Naomi could see Roger rolling across the grass. She could also see the white clad assassin taking pot shots at him.

  She took aim, squeezed the trigger and the man’s head shattered; then he fell to the ground.

  Running over to Roger, she could see he had been hit. ‘You have to stay here.’

  ‘No way.’ Roger wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot!’ She barked. ‘You are bleeding badly; you need to put pressure on the wound and keep still.’

  Roger knew the young girl was right.

  Naomi removed her shirt and tore off the sleeve. ‘Use this, tie it hard.’

  ‘I know what to do.’ Roger started to wrap the make shift tourniquet just above the gunshot wound. ‘Thank you.’

  Naomi nodded, and then in the blink of an eye she was gone.

  Roger slumped back into the longer grass. His battle was over.

  ***

  Davis looked behind her for the Doyen, but he couldn’t be seen. She was glad of that; he would only slow her down.

  Spraying bullets left right and centre; the infected were being felled like rotten trees.

  ‘You over there.’ She ordered the stocky man to her left.

  ‘You, big guy. Stay behind me.’ The large Welshman guarded the rear of Davis.

  Moving across the rocks, she mopped up everything that came her way. She could see the smal
l gorge where the infected were slaughtering the Purebloods, and she decided a full on offensive was needed.

  Running like the wind she bounced from boulder to boulder, shooting on sight. The Welshman was behind her, crushing anything she left living.

  The stocky scouser was struggling to keep up though. Twice Davis had to shoot infected filth that was close to him. The third time he wasn’t so lucky.

  Just as Davis was in reaching distance of the gorge, the scouser slipped on the granite that was now drenched with blood. That was it, his guard slipped. Two young girls pounced, and ripped him to shreds. His skin was peeled from his skull, and his brains were tossed for the seagulls to fight over.

  Davis was unaware of his demise, and she didn’t much care anyway. She littered the gorge edge with bullets, and they ricocheted their way down into the crevice, killing many.

  ‘Kill.’ Was all she yelled at the Welshman. That was enough.

  He leapt into the air and disappeared down into the abyss. Davis was impressed. Single handily they had changed the course of the battle, once again to their advantage.

  Naked bodies shattered onto the jagged rocks below; he kicked and punched them into oblivion. Those who tried to escape by getting out met Davis and her trusty machine gun.

  A few paces behind, she was now joined by the Doyen. ‘I knew we could do it.’ He cheered. ‘Bravo Davis, bravo.’

  ***

  Jeremiah Rosser scaled the north face of the giant rock and pulled himself onto the summit. There he could see her. In all her glory she was standing on the blood soaked stone, shooting the defenceless.

  ‘Right Leila K, your time has come.’ He slowly moved a little closer. He didn’t want to miss; he wanted to actually see her demise through his gun sight.

  Crawling a few inches closer, Jeremiah shifted slightly to gain a comfortable position. He checked his rifle, is was loaded and ready to fire. The sun shone down on the back of his neck, and he could feel his skin tingling. He pressed the stock up to his shoulder and took aim.

  His finger danced over the trigger, and he curled it around the metal pin.

  He squeezed. The gun rang out over Haytor, but Davis was still standing.

  Jeremiah found himself on his back, and he couldn’t understand why. He could feel pressure around his left ankle. He looked down. An infected female was just about to bite a chunk out of his shin.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ He shouted. Fumbling with the gun, he tried to get it steady to shoot off his attacker.

  It was too late. The teeth sank into his skin and bit hard. Jeremiah kicked out at the woman’s face, but she hung on like an Alabama tick.

  Her teeth stayed locked to his leg, and her jaw kept tightening.

  Jeremiah could feel his shin bone being scraped by her teeth.

  He twisted and turned, but she was too strong for him. He could feel the pressure on his bone; the pain was too much. Jeremiah could feel himself passing out.

  Angel sliced open the white overalls with her small kitchen knife. Before the Pureblood could advance any further she plunged it deep into the man’s chest.

  Jake came down hard on the Pureblood’s head with the handle of his pistol. With one great heave, he then dispatched him off the side of Haytor rock and onto the granite below.

  ‘Shit, its Jeremiah!’ Angel could see her friend being attacked only yards away from them.

  Before Jake could look, she was off.

  One hard kick with her boot and Jeremiah’s attacker rolled off the farmer’s body. Another kick to the face and the infected female was spitting teeth. Before the woman could counter attack, Angel had sliced her throat.

  ‘You okay?’ She looked back at the old farmer.

  He winced; the pain still searing.

  Jake skidded across the granite and dropped to Jeremiah. He lifted up the old man’s leg and inspected the wound. ‘You’ll live, just.’ He winked.

  ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘A flesh wound. Down to the bone, but nothing a good wash and a bandage won’t sort out.’ Jake looked over at Angel. It would need stitches, but it was pointless in worrying the old man too much.

  Gun fire broke out once again. Shards of rock flew through the air, and the trio ducked for cover.

  ‘Leila K!’ Jeremiah shouted out, pointing in the direction of Emma Davis.

  Angel fired back, but couldn’t see anybody.

  Jake snaked his way to the left to get a better view. He could just about make out two figures with guns firing generally in their direction.

  He fired a few shots over but there were too many rocks in the way. That had been a big mistake. Gunfire now rained down on him hard.

  ‘Over here!’ Angel shouted across to Jeremiah. ‘Can you move?’

  Ignoring the pain, Jeremiah shuffled towards Angel who had found shelter behind a craggy boulder.

  Jake turned to reload his gun when he came face to face with a set of white overalls.

  ‘Don’t shoot!’ The man yelled. ‘I mean you no harm.’

  Jake ignored the pitiful pleas, and grabbed the man wrestling him to the ground. He looked into his eyes. The man was petrified. He was also unarmed. Knowing that the end result might mean the man’s death, Jake made a conscious decision not to talk to him. He didn’t want to make any connection to a man he would murder.

  Pulling the man to his feet, he dragged him from behind the cover of the rocks.

  ‘Over here!’ He cried out to the other Purebloods. ‘One more shot and he gets it.’

  Jake had one arm around the man’s neck. His other hand was gripping a pistol that was pointed at the man’s head.

  ‘Please, please don’t kill me.’ The hostage spluttered.

  ‘Shut up!’ Jake shouted. He started to move slowly in the direction of Angel and Jeremiah.

  Then the two figures that had been firing at him stood up.

  Jake stopped. ‘I will shoot him!’ He yelled.

  The taller figure lowered his gun.

  Jake started to move again. He looked over at Angel who was beckoning him to move faster.

  Jeremiah, who had been inspecting his wound, looked up at Jake and the prisoner. ‘Bloody hell, it’s the doc.’

  Under Jake’s arm was Doctor Robert.

  Emma Davis, who hadn’t lowered her gun, stood firm. She then took aim.

  ***

  ‘Harry, slow down.’ Naomi shouted. She then shot an infected woman at point blank range. Blood sprayed everywhere, drenching her in the process.

  ‘Harry James!’ She again shouted after him.

  Harry James had the bit between his teeth. Using a gun he had found in throes of battle, he shot his way to the gorge.

  Purebloods, infected; whoever stood in his way fell.

  Slamming another bullet into a naked body, he started to climb the rock face.

  ‘Harry James!’

  He instantly recognised the female voice from below. It was Naomi. He assumed she had stayed with Roger.

  ‘Wait for me.’

  He could see her running to the small opening.

  Harry found a good place to rest his feet. He looked down again to see if Naomi had started climbing. He couldn’t see her, his heart raced. Then he could hear her scream.

  He scrambled back down the rock face calling out as he went. ‘Naomi, hang on!’

  Naomi was pinned to the floor. A naked male pensioner held both her wrists, his teeth snapping together as he drew closer.

  Trying to kick out, she wriggled and heaved with all her might. It was no use; the man was too big and heavy.

  Drool fell from the side of his mouth and landed on Naomi’s cheek. He gazed at her eyes, twinkling in the sunlight. They looked delicious, he imagined them bursting in his mouth.

  As he opened his jaw, the foul stench of his breath hit Naomi’s nose. She twitched as the foul acrid air filled her nostrils.

  Their noses touched, he sniffed her skin. It was pure, unsullied and divine.

  As he about to strike Na
omi closed her eyes. This was it, she would soon be in her mother’s arms again. Then the weight of the body pinning her down had disappeared.

  She opened her eyes; the man had gone.

  Harry James rugby tackled the man as he tried to slip away. Using his foot to pin the savage to the floor, he drew his gun and fired. The pensioner was dead.

  Harry looked over to Naomi. She gazed back over to him, he had saved her life.

  He wiped the blood from his hands and started to walk over to her.

  ‘Are you okay?' She asked quietly.

  Harry nodded as he was too out of breath to talk.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘Shall we try again?’

  ‘To climb the rock?’ Harry James puffed.

  ‘I mean us.’

  Harry looked confused. ‘Us?’ He ushered them both into the shadow of the gorge.

  ‘Shall we start again?’ She wiped the drops of blood from his face. ‘I haven’t been fair on you; none of us have. You have tried so hard to fit in.’

  ‘It’s okay, I understand.’ He looked up at the rock face.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Naomi held Harry James’s hand.

  He looked at her and smiled.

  Then blood poured from his mouth, and he slumped into Naomi’s arms.

  She screamed, and nearly buckled under the weight.

  ‘Harry! Harry, what’s happened?’ She then stopped asking, as the large metal spike protruding from his back answered her questions.

  Naomi went to the ground, cradling him in her arms. ‘Harry, Harry, please don’t die.’

  Harry James said nothing. He was dead.

  ***

  ‘What are you doing?’ The Doyen could see Davis sizing up the man holding the doctor.

  ‘The time has come.’ She squeezed the trigger.

  ‘Jesus!’ The Doyen recoiled in horror as the head of the man in white overalls exploded.

  ‘You have shot the doctor!’ He yelled.

  Davis took another shot at the renegade, but he had vanished.

  ‘You idiot!’ The Doyen couldn’t believe what she had done.

  ‘No sir, you’re the idiot.’ Davis loaded another full magazine.

  Before he could do anything, they came under heavy fire.