Trauma (Wildfire Chronicles Vol. 5) by K.R. Griffiths

Author:K.R. Griffiths [Griffiths, K.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-03-03T06:00:00+00:00

19

The village Emma had described took John by surprise. Not just because it appeared out of nowhere as he rounded a blind corner, but because it was bigger than he had anticipated. He had come to expect that when a Welsh person labelled something a 'village' what they actually meant was 'a few houses'. This was different, though. It even had a small high street. Once it had probably had a population of several hundred. Most of whom, John suspected, had ended up dead on the riverbed next to Caernarfon Castle.

Darkness was falling, and John slowed up abruptly, furtively searching the gloomy houses and gardens for the Infected. It all looked quiet. He could no longer hear the humming, but dismissed the notion that the Infected would have turned inland. Just too convenient. They were still coming, he knew it deep in his writhing gut. He'd be able to hear them in a few minutes.

"We don't have much time," he hissed. "The petrol station."

He jabbed a finger down the main street. About halfway down it stood a small, four-pump fuelling station.

"Look for any vehicle that looks solid. Look for keys. We’ll have to get out of here fast. Move."

John took off down the street, keeping a wary eye on the windows and doorways as he passed them. If they stumbled across Infected now, he thought, the game would be up. Any more than a couple would be too many to handle, and reinforcements would be arriving at any minute.

John found their escape route right next to the petrol station.

In a side street next to the fuel pumps he saw a small schoolbus. A twelve-seater that had probably delivered all the village's children to the school in Caernarfon, back when education hadn’t revolved entirely around surviving by learning to kill.

For a moment John wondered whether Linda had taught the kids who travelled in the vehicle. He dismissed the unhelpful thought immediately, and focused on the bus.

The vehicle looked undamaged, discarded in the middle of the street at an incongruously jaunty angle. A long smear of blood ran from the door at the front, down the entire length of the bus. John's mind wanted to conjure up images of the horror that had almost certainly befallen the passengers, and he told it in no uncertain terms to shut up.

John approached the bus at a canter, slipping inside and sighing in relief when he saw the keys dangling from the ignition. He dearly wanted to test the engine, and ensure they weren't all about to die because of a flat battery, but he didn't dare risk the noise. Against his better judgment, he was going to have to roll the dice. He grimaced.

"In the bus," he whispered, and waited until the others had filed silently into the vehicle before speaking again.

"Rachel," he said finally, "I want this bus ready to move, okay? The minute you see my signal, get that engine running and go. Don't stop for anything."

Rachel nodded firmly.

"What's the signal?"

"Fire," John said through gritted teeth.

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