Wright, Iain Rob - The Spread 03 - The Stand by Wright Iain Rob

Author:Wright, Iain Rob [Wright, Iain Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ulcerated Press
Published: 2021-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

6

“We can’t leave,” said Ed. “Those things will kill us.”

“Or infect us,” said somebody else.

“My Brian is out there. What’s happened to him?”

“I need to get home.”

Oliver shook his head, sitting at the bar. “I don’t wanna become one of those monsters.”

Dale pounded the butt of his shotgun against a table to shut everyone up. His eyes were like vats of acid, ready to burn anyone who caught his gaze. “We stay here, we die. I dinnae know aboot the rest o’ ye, but I’d rather fight than lie down like a wee slag. Those things outside ma pub are flesh, bone, and blood, nae different to the rest of us. Have some backbone, will ye nae?”

Helen sighed. She didn’t like the way she was sat at the table closest to Dale, as if she were his lady in his mad little fiefdom. Less than a week and he already thought of these people as his. The horror had turned everybody meek. “Dale’s right,” she said reluctantly, hating to admit it. She had considered what he’d said about help not coming and could see no way to disagree. The army was nearby, but they had done nothing to enter the village. They weren’t here to save anybody.

Shelly gasped. “Helen, yoo know how bad it is oot there more than any of us. It would be insane to leave.”

Helen took in a long breath, anger, rage, sadness and spite bubbling away beneath her skin. Her soul was empty. “Aye, I know better than anyone what’s oot there. I watched ma wee daffodil get butchered. His blood is still beneath ma fingernails.”

“So why the hell do ye want to go outside?” asked Oliver, his incredulous face begging to be punched. “We’re safe here.”

“We all thought we were safe at the kirk, too,” she said, “and the bowls club. Yer all fools if ye think ye can just stay here and wait for everything to blow over. Those things will get inside. Then they’ll slice yer throats open and leave ye to bleed out on these ugly carpets. Honestly, I don’t give two fecks what any of ye do, but I’ll nae sit here and wait to die. I’m going outside to kill as many of those bastards as I can.”

Dale grinned. “Now there’s a battle cry. Ye heard the lass, there’s nae option to stay safe and cosy. We die here or we fight to live.”

“I’ll die here, thanks very much,” said Oliver. “I’ve still got some sense left.”

Dale’s grin remained, but it cracked slightly, became a distortion. He marched over to Oliver and stood over him. Oliver leant back on his stool, eyelids flickering like he expected to get punched. “Ye’ve got a problem there, pal, because this is ma pub and I’m calling last orders. Get ready to leave.”

“No,” said Oliver. “I’ll nae throw ma life away so yoo can play general. It’s a death sentence. We should all stay here until there’s nae another option.”

“Yeah,” said Ed. “We don’t have to leave right now, do we?”

There was a mumble of assent.

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