Chapter 3

Ellie crept over to the edge of the hole and peered down, clicking her flashlight on. The writing desk had been totalled in the fall, reduced to nothing more than charcoal and splinters. Pages had become strewn all over the place, some in better condition than others. For the atrocious condition of the desk, the craftsmanship had really stood the tests of both time and the elements. To think that any of the contents had survived either was almost beyond imagining and it really put into perspective every time she'd heard someone say that they didn't make things like they used to.

Taking her light from the strap on her backpack, she lowered it into the hole and panned around to try and see any sort of movement. Nothing stirred, but there were a lot of promising signs down there. There was a bunch of junk covered over with sheets in a corner, a rack full of old, cobweb-covered wine bottles along the left wall and on the right... Ellie's stomach instantly let out a growl. They were caked in layer after layer of dust, but there was no mistaking what she was looking at. Canned food. She could see hot dogs, sweetcorn, spaghetti, beans...! Ellie suddenly realised she was drooling and decided that she'd stayed still too long. She deftly hopped through the hole, seeing that the drop was just short enough that the writing desk could now safely break her fall if she hit it right. Sure enough, she was able to more or less hit the writing desk's remains at the angle she'd planned to and got dumped on her back on the floor as she fell back and her backpack took most of the impact. As she rolled over to pick herself up, her hand landed on something that caused her to look down. It was a page that had previously been contained within the desk. She picked it up and turned it over to look at it.

"I keep seeing her walk out that door. Keep hearing the murmurs of people in the streets. True, our town is a lot smaller now, but that doesn't mean they can't all treat us like outcasts. I don't think they'll try anything but just to be safe I changed the safe combination to 55, 49, 32, 8. Let's hope no one has to use it.

Our daughter joined the terrorists. Those 'Fireflies'. Says she believes in what they're doing. She didn't give a thought to the rest of us. To the kids. They're her siblings. Her blood. Now everyone thinks the entire Abel bloodline is contaminated. But we don't support terrorism here. And that girl is an Abel no longer."

"Damn." Ellie muttered under her breath. Her family really did turn on her. I don't think that's something I'll ever understand." Her words were barely more than a whisper, but they were still enough. She heard a sudden scratching noise from over in the corner with all the junk. It was punctuated by a very distinctive clicking noise that she knew all too well. Drawing her gun and switchblade, she crept over. One of the covers was writhing and clicking, but the creature she knew was underneath seemed weak. There were no spores around and she knew that if it had any strength at all it would have just torn through the sheet and attacked her. The infected were many things, but smart enough to play dead wasn't one of them.

She tore the cover off and jumped back quickly. The clicker underneath looked different from normal. It was emaciated. As she'd predicted it had no strength to stand. But she'd also found something quite rare: It was mid transformation. It looked like it had been half way to being a bloater but simply didn't have the calorie reserves to fuel the metamorphosis all the way. She could see the mycotoxin sacks all over its body; the kind a bloater would throw at someone from long range. But they were limp and empty membrane bags with no toxin in them. The fungal plates on its body looked brittle and the ones that scraped on the floor were flaking apart in clouds of fungal dust. That was the closest this thing was ever going to get to making spores and Ellie decided it was best not to breathe it in. While she knew spores wouldn't be any harm to her, she didn't know what physical damage that dust might do. The last thing she needed was for it to eviscerate the insides of her lungs like fibreglass. The creature itself, though, was what drew her eye. While most of its face was covered over by fungal plates, she realised that this must have once been a tall and elegant woman. And if her hunch was right, a beautiful one too. She could guess who she must be looking at. The exposed parts of her arms and lower jaw gave that away. This was the mother from the family photo. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd drawn her pistol.

"I don't know where your husband and kids are." Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears as she was vaguely aware of the tears that were creeping down her face. "But I'll find them if I can. And if need be, I'll show them the same mercy I'm showing you." The muzzle of the gun gave a harsh bark. The clicker's fungal plates, damaged and brittle as they were, offered no defence against the bullet. At close range, it was enough to shatter her weakened and brittle cranial vault. The shot was so loud it sounded more like a .50 calibre round going off in the confined space.

From above her, a series of screaming clicks caused her to look up. Another clicker, also halfway to being a bloater but infinitely more healthy, stood on the edge of the upstairs floor where the writing desk had fallen from. Now that she knew the sick one had been the mother, she had no doubt about who this was. She waited for it to jump down so she could engage it too, but she was surprised to see it turn and head the other way. Why? Did it know what had just happened? Did it recognise that, even though they were both transformed, the thing that just died used to be its wife? Had their solitude linked them somehow? She had no idea, but the thought unnerved her. She'd always been told that once they were infected, the person underneath was gone forever. That the fungus stripped away every single quirk and trait that made up who they were and rendered them a mindless feral drone that sought only to serve the infection and spread it as far and wide as it could. It was the reason she'd always killed them with so little remorse. All but one, anyway. But the actions of the creature that had once been the father had totally flown in the face of all of that. It should have attacked! It should have tried to kill her! Had it really managed to retain even the smallest glimmer of humanity this whole time?

One thing was for certain: If she was going to kill it then she needed better weapons. She refocused her attention to the corner again and started pulling the covers off things. She uncovered a bunch of random crap, but nothing that looked like a weapon. That was until she uncovered the biggest one. A large safe stood in front of her, the combination lock instantly bringing to mind the note she'd found just now. Without pausing, she grabbed the dial and started twisting.

"Fifty-five, forty-nine, thirty-two, eight..." There was a metallic thud as the door creaked open and revealed the contents inside. A beautiful ornately carved over-under double barrelled shotgun with a grip and stock made of varnished dark wood and chrome powder-coated barrel sat inside along with six rounds. This was perfect! Now she had something with enough power to get through the armour plates on that thing. But even this wouldn't be enough without some sort of explosives to back her up. That was when she remembered the bottles of wine and made her way over. Unfortunately, the wine had gone thick and stodgy. It wouldn't burn in the way she needed. Molotovs were out of the question. That was okay, she would find something else. Or an alternate source of alcohol. If there was a way, she'd find it. For now though, she had other matters to attend to. Heading over to the other wall, she started grabbing cans of food and loading her backpack full of them, desperately praying that they weren't old enough to give them dysentery. Her immediate plan was simple. Get the food, get back to Joel and assess the condition of it once they were secure. With that in mind, she zipped her backpack shut again now that it was full and shouldered it again before heading for the basement door.