Nick patted the man on the shoulder. “I think so, too, Mark. It’s good to meet you.”
“Likewise. Think I’ll go back on the bus now. Take the weight off me leg. See how the lad is doing.”
Nick nodded as the towering Jamaican hobbled off. “I’ll let you know if anything transpires,” he shouted after him.
“You part of the morale squad or something?” said Eve, standing nearby. She had a frown on her face. “Who made it your job to check up on everybody?”
Nick turned around to face her. The sour look on her face, mixed with smudged makeup, gave her the look of a sad clown. “What’s the problem?” he said. “I’m just trying to keep myself busy.”
She shrugged. “No problem. Just wonder why you bother, that’s all. We’re all fucked, but you keep going around like everything is going to be fine. We’ve got a bus with no petrol, a guy with a broken leg, and a pair of geriatric bingo warriors.”
Nick huffed at her. “Well, being negative isn’t going to do anybody any favours, is it? Should I have just left you in that closet?”
“Yeah, probably. It was safer than standing in the middle of a field, or letting that crazy little girl attack us.”
“No one exactly let her do it, Eve. And the girl was sick, not crazy.”
Eve flapped her arms. “Are you kidding me? The people we’ve seen don’t just need an aspirin. They’re totally screwed. They’re monsters.”
“My son is not a monster. My wife is not a monster. You’re as bad as Cassie.”
“I know,” she said. “I was listening to what she was saying and she’s right. Soon as you put one of those crazies down, they get right back up and stumble after you all over again – only this time they’re dead.”
“Sorry, I have trouble believing that – even with all that I’ve seen. Dead people don’t walk around. There must be some other explanation that makes sense.”
Eve flapped her arms. “Viruses don’t usually turn people into bloodthirsty psychopaths, either, but hey, you know what, it happened anyway. Someone came and turned the fucked-up factor all the way up to eleven.”
Nick pointed his finger. “Just calm down, Eve. You’re getting worked up.”
“Get your goddamn finger out of my face. Who made you so important that you think you can manage everyone?”
“Eve! I’m just trying to help. What’s gotten into you?”
“I just don’t want to be here with you people. I don’t feel safe.”
A scream from the bus cut the conversation short. Nick looked around to witness one of the bus’s side windows cracking. It looked like someone’s head had been pushed through it and then pulled back inside.
Eve looked up. “What the hell?”
Nick sprinted over to the bus doors and jumped up the steps. When he looked down the aisle, he was confused by what he saw.
The teenager, Jake, had shoved Mark up against the side of the bus, forcing the man’s head back against the broken window as he tried to bite a chunk out of his face. Mark tried to resist, but his bulbous cast was wedged beneath the seats.
Nick fell forward as Dave ran into the back of him. When he, too, saw what was happening he swore loudly. “Shite! Jake is one of them.”
Nick shook his head. “How? What happened?” Then it occurred to him. “Jake’s hand! The little girl bit him. She infected him.”
“Then it must be a virus,” Dave said. “We have to get away from the kid before we catch it, too.”
“We can’t just leave Mark. He needs our help.”
The Jamaican mechanic’s screams were suddenly cut short as Jake’s teeth sank deep into the man’s windpipe. Nick watched in horror as veins and cartilage were torn away like wet spaghetti.
Dave grabbed a hold of Nick’s woollen coat. “We’re already too late. Come on!”
He hated to run, to just abandon Mark as Jake ripped his face and neck into bloody shreds, but he had to face it that Dave was right. It was too late.
We have to get the hell away from Jake.
Dave was already off the bus. He shouted at Nick to hurry up.