Decay Inevitable by Conrad Williams Read Free Book Online

though, he saw she was right. Catriona was unconscious but breathing regularly, a peaceful look on her face. For him to scream now might wake her and he didn’t want to do that, not when it would mean she’d see that the baby had been born inside out.
     
     
    K ERWICK SAID, “I love this job.”
    “What’s to love, for Christ’s sake?” Trantam leaned into the bend as he steered the Merc left. “And where, for the love of minge, are we?”
    A voice from the back seat said: “Saddle up those sirens, children.” Out of the shadow, a head emerged, along with two huge, gloved hands that grasped the front seats. Black collars jutted into the grooves of a face so thin it seemed it must collapse in on itself.
    “And can we have flashing lights too, Gleave?” sang Kerwick, clapping his hands. “Can we? Can we?”
    “Nipple,” spat Trantam, but he was smiling. He turned to Gleave. “What’s happened?”
    Traffic fell away from them as the Merc wailed and strobed through the north London streets. Gleave said, “We have to make a special pick-up. Same kind of shit we usually do, but we’re using a different hand to wipe the mess up with.” Gleave flexed his fingers; his directions were accompanied by the squeal of leather. “We’re on Pandora now. Hang a left into Narcissus. Top of the road, right into Mill Lane. West End Lane is straight ahead.”
    Trantam braked hard outside Cumberland Mansions. The three men got out of the car. Gleave rang the bell. A few seconds later, a frantic voice yammered down at them about ambulances and police.
    “That’s right, sir,” said Gleave firmly. “We’re from the hospital. Could you let us in, please?”
    As the buzzer released the door, Gleave leaned against Trantam as Kerwick disappeared up the stairwell. “There are five flats in this block. Shoot anything that breathes. Shoot anything that doesn’t.”
     
     
    W ILL GOT SO far as to ask where the stretcher was before a great bright flare went off in his head. It took a while to blink it free and when he could see again, he was sitting in a puddle of his own piss on the floor, looking into the silenced muzzle of a gun.
    “Congratulations! It’s a... it’s a... sheesh! What is it? Dog food?” Kerwick was pumped, jittery as a candle’s flame. Will saw, through the gap at the kitchen door, his wife being moved. She moved very easily on her slick of blood. He thought, hoped, he heard her moan.
    Mrs Garraway was lolling over an arm of the sofa. Someone had used the philtrum between her nose and mouth for target practice. Splinters from her dentures had become embedded in her cheeks on their way out; it seemed as though she was eating herself from within.
    “What did she do?” Will asked, his voice thick and sleepy with fear.
    Kerwick snorted. “She died, brainiac. Jesus.”
    Gleave appeared behind Kerwick, drifting from the kitchen. He didn’t look up as he passed them and stepped into the bathroom. “The mother’s dying. We have to be quick. Kill him and then we have to go,” he said. He turned to Will and smiled. It was almost compassionate, if you could get beyond the wolfish, densely packed teeth and the lack of animation in the eyes. “Godspeed, you nobody cunt,” he said.
     
     
    C HEKE SPAT TWICE and waited for her eyes to clear. Mucus filled her nose and throat, and burbled wetly in the creaking cavities of her chest. Beyond the blurred limit of her vision, shapes rocked and nodded like restless trees viewed at dark. There were voices too, although she could not yet decode their patterns. It was a painful time and one best suited to introversion. She was barely conversant with the skill of torpor but tried to retreat into it now, seeking shelter in which she could rejuvenate herself at her own pace. The journey had been a shock, both physically and mentally. She wasn’t sure if she had escaped serious injury. She needed torpor to give her time for reflection as well as the chance to heal any