July 23rd, 2002.
The Farm.
The hardest part of getting to the surface wasn't the storm raging all around them. It wasn't the urge to get away, to just drop everything and run for the fence.
The hardest part was just trying to do anything at all.
Gavin Clarke looked through the murk at Toni Daly, who was on the verge of tears. She'd been feeling weepy and moody since they came to the surface. Gavin just felt irritable and grouchy.
"Problem?" he asked her. Toni turned her face up past the Farm's big overhead spotlights to the drizzly sky, the clouds overhead which looked kind of ... curdled looking.
"No," she replied. "It must be the weather getting me down," she said. Gavin snorted and stomped off towards the shed where the trucks were parked.
There were three trucks, all of them Army surplus purchased at an auction the year before. None of them was in full working order, and the rest of the surface team were busy cannibalising parts from the most defunct truck to put in the other two.
"Anything outside, Gav?" asked Nigel Hughes, poking his head out from underneath one of the trucks. Gavin shook his head.
"There's no - one there," he said. "Why are we doing this? Why can't we all just run for it?"
"Because, Gav, this way we can all get out in reasonable nick," Nigel replied. "Pass me the spanner over there."
Gavin went over towards the spanner, lying beside a row of other tools laid out in order of size. Nigel was always obsessed with ordering things.
There was a scream from outside. Gavin stood, the spanner still in his hand, and spun around to see what was happening.
"What was that?" Nigel asked, his voice muffled by the truck he'd ducked back under.
"Sounded like Toni," Gavin said, making his way back out.
"Gav, what about the -?" Nigel yelled. Too late. Nigel swore, pulled himself out from under the truck, looked around. Kevin Jones and Michael Pollard had already joined Gavin outside, leaving the trucks unattended. Nigel swore again, turned to follow them.
There was a weird flash in the back of his head: an image of great suffering. A child was being battered to death. The image passed, leaving Nigel shaking on his grease - stained knees in the cold garage, his grimy hands covering his face.
When Nigel could get up again, he'd put on his Grace. He was ready to face whatever was outside.
He emerged to a scene of panic. The others were running in circles, swatting at swirls of smoke. No, not smoke. More of those Things. Wisps. Deaders.
Nigel cut loose with his death sneeze. Waves of rippling darkness spewed outwards from him, engulfing hunters and Things alike. The smoke rippled, warped, frayed as the darkness corroded them. After the third sneeze, the Things had had enough. They dissipated into the rain, letting the winds take them where they may.
Nigel sank to his knees, exhausted by the strenuous effort. The others rushed up to help him back to his feet. Gav had dropped the spanner: it had warped beyond repair.
"What the fuck was that?" Gav asked.
"More of those dead wisp things," Nigel said. "God, I need a shower right now. A long shower ..."
"Don't worry," Toni said. "You saw them off. We're going to be fine, now."
Underneath, preparations were being made for departure.
In the Monitor Room, a CD popped out of a slot and into Smudge's hand. He took it, inserted it into a jewel case, popped it into an overnight bag crammed with personal effects. Smudge looked around the room one last time.
He turned to face Libra, who stood in the entrance. Libra was wearing clothes he'd been given: Army fatigue trousers and a red sweater which had belonged to one of the dead soldiers, Graeme Savage.
"Got what you need?" Smudge asked.
"Wearing it," Libra replied, slinging an old coat over his shoulder. "I've no desire to collect souvenirs of this place, believe you me."
The truck coughed and rumbled as the key was turned.
"Another!" cried Gavin. Toni Daly turned the key a second time. The truck rumbled, belched a huge cloud of black smoke straight up out of the exhaust. There was a loud bang ... and then the engine turned over.
Gavin waved away the smoke in front of his face. "Nice, one, Toni!" he yelled, the sound of his voice unheard in the din of the engine.
Toni leaned out of the window, stuck her thumb up at Gavin.
"That's the second one!" she yelled. Gavin nodded, enthusiastically.
"I don't like this," Mary Chesters said, peering beyond the lights into the gloom of the surrounding countryside.
"Don't like what?" asked Michael Pollard.
"I swear, I saw someone moving out there," she said, pointing into the darkness. But there was only silence and more darkness.
Toni Daly turned off the truck engine. The roar spluttered and died. The smoke stopped. She coughed, raised the side window, waited for Gavin to open the passenger side door and slide in like he had with the last truck, which now waited outside for its driver and passengers.
Outside the truck, Gavin looked underneath the chassis one last time, to make sure Nigel wasn't underneath it. Funny, there wasn't a peep from him: hadn't been a peep from him for the last five minutes.
Nigel was always the talkative sort.
A shadow moved in the light coming from the lamp on the far side of the truck. Gavin looked closer under the lorry, saw nothing.
"Nigel?" he called out. Not a sound.
"Nige?" Gavin asked. Silence.
Gavin shook his head, stood up straight, continued cleaning the replacement spanner. "Bloody hell, Nige," he said to nobody in particular. "Thought you'd be chuffed to have the truck up and running. Where've you gone?"
"Did you say anything?" Toni asked, rolling down the window again.
"Nah," Gavin replied. "Just wondered where Nige was, that's all." He shrugged. A shadow moved across the side of the truck, man sized.
Gavin smiled, began to turn. "Hey, Nige," he said. "Did you go for a piss round the back or what? We got the truck runn -"
It was not Nigel Hughes.
Gavin's first instinct was to lash out with the spanner. It caught the Thing smartly, and lopped its slimy green head clean off its body.
Gavin turned ... and saw that there were more Things behind him. He spun, and discovered that he was surrounded by walking dead.
The scream, curtailed by a crunch, drew the attention of the hunters outside in the yard. Mary Chesters turned, looked at the shapes surrounding the garage. She blanched, pointed.
"There!" she cried. The others needed no further urging. Ignoring the winds, they began to run towards the garage.
There was a mechanical roar, a screech of tyres. The Things were suddenly scattered by the emerging truck as it backed out of the garage and spun around. In the driver's seat sat Toni Daly, wide eyed with fear.
There was no sign of Gavin or Nigel.
The intruder alarm caught Smudge and Libra by surprise as they were wandering towards the lift. Smudge and Libra spun around, saw six inmates running towards them.
"What is it?" Libra yelled, as everyone barrelled past them. Anna Dawson stopped, panting.
"Anna, what is it?" Libra asked, grabbing Anna by the shoulders.
"It's ..." Anna said. "Teri Butler felt it. Something has entered the compound, or is on the premises above us."
"More Things?"
"I dunno," she said. "Maybe. I think."
"We'd better go up there, make sure, hadn't we?" Libra said. "How many people does this lift accommodate?"
"You'll want the cargo lift, mate," a voice said behind Libra. Libra turned, saw Michaels.
"You're all right," Libra said, "after what happened to you."
"I've got a job to do," Michaels replied. "Like the Colonel here had to, I had to just suck it in. Know what I mean?"
Libra nodded. "OH yeah," he said, knowingly. "All right then; show me the cargo lift."
The lift discharged a knot of the hunters, including Libra, into the back of the truck garage, now occupied only by the cannibalised remains of the third truck and a lot of detritus and discarded spare parts.
The hunters were ready for anything. But what they saw surprised them, even so.
"Poor bastards," Smudge said, examining the decapitated remains of Nigel Hughes and Gavin Clarke. "They never stood a chance."
Libra turned around, looked out through the open garage doors with the sight and the clear vision full on. "Bloody Hell," he said, "it's rough out there."
"It would be," said Anna. "It's dark."
"More than that," Libra said. "It's even hard for me to see through the shit flying outside."
"Can you feel that?" asked Teri Butler. "Feels cold, horrible. Like the world's dying, and it's sharing its pain with you."
"Suck! It! In!" bellowed Libra, wheeling on the girl. Teri took a step back, quivering with fright.
Libra turned to face the other hunters, as Smudge and Michaels looked on quietly at the back.
"Anna; I want you to take Teri here, and stand at the door."
"Sir," said Alex Pritchard, "I may be able to take point with Anna, instead of Teri. We both can push Things away from us, Anna and me."
"All right then," Libra said, wondering where he'd suddenly become "sir" again all of a sudden. "You and Dawson, take your places. Report on what you see when you can look outside."
Anna and Alex moved forward to the mouth of the garage, peered outside.
"Bloody Hell, Libra!" Anna cried. "They're fighting for their lives out here!"
By: Fiat Knox
Copyright © Fiat Knox, 2001