as well, hands up to her face. It was only when she took these down that I saw the wounds there, the ragged holes in her cheeks. Carrie’s screams were shrill, causing all of us to pause and look over. Jane was rising from her work, a pair of scissors still fixed in her hand which were dripping blood. The girl was crying all right, but from laughter rather than sadness. And before any of us could do a thing to stop her, she’d leapt up to carry on stabbing Carrie – this time in the neck and chest. The woman did her best to ward her off, arms flailing around, but in the end it was no use. She toppled backwards, into a shelf that had bottles on it – knocking everything flying. The screaming was replaced by smashing glass as Carrie slumped down to the ground, not moving.
Rakesh let go of the gun, let Dennis take it – maybe realising that whoever had it would be forced to make a really tough decision. We’d all seen people who had become affected, knew what they looked like, how they acted; for whatever reason, Jane had been slow to display the symptoms and we’d all just assumed she was immune. There was no way of knowing, no doctors to test her, to analyse her for… whatever the hell this was. When it had struck, it hit so many people at once; if you didn’t turn then it was safe to assume you were okay… or so we’d – I’d – thought. It was an assumption that had cost Carrie her life.
When Jane ran across the room, she ran quickly – and with the energy of youth, powered seemingly by the transformation that was overtaking her. “Dennis…” I said; which was all I thought needed saying. He was the one with the gun, the one she was targeting. Dennis levelled it at her, grinding his teeth. I could see his finger twitching on the trigger. A few seconds ago he’d been fighting with Rakesh over the possession of that firearm – who knows, might have even shot the lad if it had continued. But now he was reluctant to use it when he really needed to; not that I could blame him, not that I’d have done any different. Jane was affected, but she was still a child. One who, up until only a few moments ago, had been colouring in, making pictures, doing the normal things that kids do. Now she was a stone cold killer, with one notch already on her belt – and a second imminent.
Dennis did at least attempt to fend her off, dropping the rifle – maybe in the hopes that someone else would pick it up and do what he’d been unable to – then grabbing her by the shoulders. “Jane… Jane, please! ” In all my time in that cellar, I’d never heard Dennis so vulnerable, so unsure of what to do. Jane was snarling at him, teeth chomping together like she wanted to eat him – though I’d never seen any of the affected showing signs of cannibalism. Then she ducked out of his grasp, twisting and turning and sliding underneath. Whether it was pure “luck” or by design, she stabbed him on the inside of the leg – and must have hit an artery. His trousers turned dark quickly, exactly how I imagine the policeman’s had when Rakesh went to him for help. Dennis’ teeth were clamped together now, his hand going to the wound – but Jane was already stabbing him again.
Rakesh had been backing away even before Jane set off, so I reached down for the rifle. I hadn’t been thinking about more than just grabbing it, more than taking charge, but once I had it I was the one facing that tough decision about Jane. In the end it was taken out of my hands because she headed off in the other direction after the teenager, springing up and onto him, scissors going to work on him too. I raised the rifle, but then the pair of them – a weird amalgamation of bodies, a flurry of arms and hands – stumbled sideways into a crate that had a candle on it. Not something that would have mattered ordinarily, if it hadn’t been for all those spirits Carrie had already spilled.
There were whooshing sounds, and suddenly a wall of flames
Rakesh let go of the gun, let Dennis take it – maybe realising that whoever had it would be forced to make a really tough decision. We’d all seen people who had become affected, knew what they looked like, how they acted; for whatever reason, Jane had been slow to display the symptoms and we’d all just assumed she was immune. There was no way of knowing, no doctors to test her, to analyse her for… whatever the hell this was. When it had struck, it hit so many people at once; if you didn’t turn then it was safe to assume you were okay… or so we’d – I’d – thought. It was an assumption that had cost Carrie her life.
When Jane ran across the room, she ran quickly – and with the energy of youth, powered seemingly by the transformation that was overtaking her. “Dennis…” I said; which was all I thought needed saying. He was the one with the gun, the one she was targeting. Dennis levelled it at her, grinding his teeth. I could see his finger twitching on the trigger. A few seconds ago he’d been fighting with Rakesh over the possession of that firearm – who knows, might have even shot the lad if it had continued. But now he was reluctant to use it when he really needed to; not that I could blame him, not that I’d have done any different. Jane was affected, but she was still a child. One who, up until only a few moments ago, had been colouring in, making pictures, doing the normal things that kids do. Now she was a stone cold killer, with one notch already on her belt – and a second imminent.
Dennis did at least attempt to fend her off, dropping the rifle – maybe in the hopes that someone else would pick it up and do what he’d been unable to – then grabbing her by the shoulders. “Jane… Jane, please! ” In all my time in that cellar, I’d never heard Dennis so vulnerable, so unsure of what to do. Jane was snarling at him, teeth chomping together like she wanted to eat him – though I’d never seen any of the affected showing signs of cannibalism. Then she ducked out of his grasp, twisting and turning and sliding underneath. Whether it was pure “luck” or by design, she stabbed him on the inside of the leg – and must have hit an artery. His trousers turned dark quickly, exactly how I imagine the policeman’s had when Rakesh went to him for help. Dennis’ teeth were clamped together now, his hand going to the wound – but Jane was already stabbing him again.
Rakesh had been backing away even before Jane set off, so I reached down for the rifle. I hadn’t been thinking about more than just grabbing it, more than taking charge, but once I had it I was the one facing that tough decision about Jane. In the end it was taken out of my hands because she headed off in the other direction after the teenager, springing up and onto him, scissors going to work on him too. I raised the rifle, but then the pair of them – a weird amalgamation of bodies, a flurry of arms and hands – stumbled sideways into a crate that had a candle on it. Not something that would have mattered ordinarily, if it hadn’t been for all those spirits Carrie had already spilled.
There were whooshing sounds, and suddenly a wall of flames
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