The Deluge by Mark Morris

Author:Mark Morris [Morris, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780843959727
Google: rUdZngEACAAJ
Amazon: B001HBI6HK
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2007-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

"How's your arm?" Libby said.

Steve looked up. He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts, and with the sheer hard work of putting one foot in front of the other when all he wanted to do was stop to ease the grinding pain in his side, that he hadn't realized she had fallen into step beside him. The farmhouse was over half an hour's walk behind them, and up to now the long plod back to the hotel had been undertaken mostly in silence.

"Not too bad," he lied. "The paracetomol that Sue gave me has helped a bit."

"You don't look good," Libby said.

"Oh, thanks," he said. "I always thought I had a certain rakish charm."

She almost smiled at that. "You look pale, feverish."

"I'm not feeling brilliant," he admitted, "but neither is anyone else. Nice cup of tea and a lie down, that's what I need. It's been a long day"

"Tell me about it," she mumbled.

Lowering his voice so that only she could hear, he asked, "How are you, Libby? Really?"

"I'll survive," she said, so quietly he could barely hear.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Her answer was abrupt. She gave him a sidelong look. "Sorry, Steve, but no. I'm not ready"

Daylight was draining from the sky when the hotel finally came into view. By now Steve's limbs were prickly and tender, as if hot glass were pulsing through his veins, and though he hadn't said anything, he didn't think he could have gone on much longer. He hoped the blade hadn't been rusty or dirty. The thought of getting a blood infection was pretty frightening.

All seemed quiet as they arrived, squelching and muddy, on the forecourt of the hotel.

"Wonder how Greg is," Max said.

"I expect Marco's been making him mugs of cocoa and reading him bedtime stories," said Sue.

There were a few halfhearted grunts of amusement, but no one was really in the mood to laugh.

They entered the hotel, each of them covering their noses and mouths. "I'd forgotten how fragrant this place is," Sue said.

Trying to ignore the rotting bodies in the foyer, they went upstairs. The third floor was so quiet it might have been deserted.

"Hi, honey, I'm home!" called Sue.

There was no response.

"Please, no more shit today," murmured Max, taking a firm grip on his rifle.

"Anyone around?" called Sue. "Marco? Mabel?"

Silence. Sue was about to say something when Abby held up a hand. "Shh."

"What is it?" asked Max.

"I can hear something. Listen. A kind of... fizzing noise."

After a few seconds Max nodded. "Yeah, I hear it too. It's like them things Ma used to take for her stomach."

"Alka-Seltzer," said Steve, and almost unconsciously murmured the slogan from the TV commercial: "Plink, plink, fizz."

"It's coming from the end room, isn't it?" said Libby.

"Greg's room," confirmed Sue. "Max, with me?" He nod ded. She looked over her shoulder at Steve. "Are you up to this, Steve? You look terrible."

"I'm fine," he lied, and held up his gun.

"Nice and slow," Sue said. "It might be nothing."

They approached the room-Sue, then Max, then Steve, bringing up the rear.

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