The Bug - Episode 2 by Barry J. Hutchison Read Free Book Online Page A

thing to go faster. “Move, you piece of shit!” he sobbed.
    Jaden was sitting half-turned in his seat, ducking low so he could see out through the back windscreen. “It’s gaining on us!”
    “Of course it’s fucking gaining on us!” Col shouted. “It’s a plane!”
    Two miles back, but less than half a mile in the air, a passenger jet plunged after them, tilting as it fell.
    “Hurry up!”
    “I can’t hurry it up! It’s going as fast as it can!”
    Jaden whipped round and grabbed for his seat belt. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck?”
    “What?” Col demanded. “Is it going to—?”
    There was a sound, louder than any Col had ever heard before. No, not a sound, lots of sounds. Hundreds of them, thousands, all happening at the same time behind them, every one of them terrible.
    There was a light which flared the evening sky in orange. There was a warmth, which became a heat, which became a hiss of pain on Col’s lips.
    The terrible sounds caught up. Col heard Jaden scream.
    And the world went dark.

GLASGOW NW POLICE HQ, GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
25 th MAY, 2:57 AM
 
    Leanne hurried along beside Marshall, her knife gripped tightly in her hand again. Hoon marched on ahead, muttering below his breath.
    “He’s not happy about the guns, is he?” Leanne whispered.
    “No,” said Marshall, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t fancy being whoever took them if he finds them.”
    “What do you think about all that stuff he said? About the bug?”
    Marshall puffed out his cheeks and shrugged. “No idea.”
    “Is he dangerous?” Leanne asked.
    “What? Uh, no, no he’s not dangerous,” Marshall said, although he felt the need to add, “Don’t think so,” just to cover himself.
    Hoon looked back over his shoulder. “Keep up, you pair,” he called. “I swear, if we get to the car park and find out there’s no riot wagons left, I will not be a happy man.”
    A moment later, they reached the car park. There were no riot wagons left. Hoon, to his word, was not a happy man.
    “Bastards! The fucking robbing bastards!”
    “The wagons would’ve been out on call, sir,” Marshall pointed out. “You know, dealing with rioting like they’re supposed to.”
    Hoon shouted a few more obscenities at the world at large, then took a deep breath and smoothed down his overcoat. “Right. We need a vehicle.”
    “My car’s parked out front,” Marshall said.
    “Right. OK. What kind is it?”
    “A Renault Clio.”
    Hoon buried his face in his hands. “Fuck!” he shouted. “OK, fine. That’ll have to do. Let’s go.”
    They turned to find a small crowd of people gathered behind them. Leanne raised her knife, and Marshall fumbled in his belt for his. Hoon cast his eye over the crowd and stepped forward.
    “What do you lot want?” he demanded.
    Marshall spotted an elderly woman in a dressing gown among the crowd. His heart, which had been racing pretty much constantly for the past few hours, seemed to crash to a halt in his chest. “Uh, sir,” he began.
    “No’ now, detective inspector,” said Hoon. He took another step closer to the crowd. There were thirty or forty of them, most of them at least partly hunched over, their faces twisted in anger, their fingers curved into claws. “I’m going to give you folks the count of three to fuck off,” Hoon said. “Station’s shut. You’re on your own. One,” he began.
    “Martin?” Leanne whispered. Marshall took her hand and squeezed it.”
    “Two!” boomed Hoon.
    “Uh, sir,” Marshall hissed.
    Hoon held up a hand for silence. He opened his mouth to say, “Three,” but before the word could escape his lips, the crowd surged forwards.
    Marshall looked around, searching for a way past the onrushing horde, but there was a wall behind them, and the crowd was closing in on all other sides.
    Leanne’s grip tightened in his hand. They looked at each other, and both saw fear in the other’s eyes.
    They were surrounded. Trapped.
    And there was nowhere left to