Chapter 40

I am filled with hatred.

I am done!

Chapter 41

The room pulsed with heat, making Nash’s head spin. He was drowning in the stink of sweat and decay. Alan’s dead eyes stared at him, and the gash in his throat smiled. Nash crouched by the body and used his index fingers to close Alan’s eyelids. It could have been to give him some final dignity, but it was more than that. He did it to avoid the recrimination he saw there.

He stood, shaking his head at the futility of Alan’s death. ‘You didn’t need to kill him, Travis. We could have ended this without anybody else getting hurt.’ But as he spoke the empty words, he could see Travis struggling for breath. It was way too late for Alan and Travis, and pretty sentiment didn’t help anybody.

Travis laughed. ‘And we could all go home in time for tea. You live in a different world to me, Nash.’

Taking a step forward, his boots sank into rotting wood and old pine needles scattered on the warped floor. The air was oppressive with the dampness of old floorboards and the sour reek of sickness. Shadows jittered across the walls, cast by the rusted lantern, its flame jumping around like a nervous heartbeat.

Alan’s body was slumped against the post, and his limbs were slack in their bindings. He wasn’t peaceful in death, and Nash could have wept for him. The bucket at Alan’s side was filled with vomit, and the rank stench mixed with the smell of faeces. Nash’s gut twisted, and he gagged. Alan had defecated again as his muscles had relaxed in death.

Travis stood up. He looked taller in the centre of the room. He was flushed and swayed, unsteady on his feet, but he functioned with feverish energy. His shirt clung to his back, soaked in sweat, and his wild eyes fixed on Nash in exultation. Travis looked happier than Nash had ever seen him. He glowed like a bride on her wedding day.

Nash thought about his. Would he be there to marry Kelvin?

‘It’s done,’ Travis said. ‘The curse of my bloodline is lifted. The disease dies in the blood I was born from.’

‘You don’t have to die,’ Nash replied. ‘It doesn’t have to finish this way.’

Travis laughed again. It was a ragged sound crackling with bitterness, and as dry as dead branches. ‘You know what I’ve done to myself, Nash, but your analytical mind won’t buy it until you see the proof.’

Nash watched what was happening to Alan. The contagion had evolved, and it worked faster than before. He knew his words were useless, and even if he got Travis out, nothing could be done to save him. ‘Alan’s gone, but you’re only in the initial stages. We can still get help.’

‘You know that’s bollocks as well as I do. Let me show you what I’ve created, and then tell me this isn’t over.’

He parted his hair. A tick, embedded and bloated, fed behind his ear, and Nash recoiled in horror.

‘How could you infect yourself? It’s certain death.’

Travis’s grin was triumphant. ‘Of course it is. I couldn’t let anyone else decide my fate. My tiny monster is loyal. And she’s watching you, Nash. She sees everything and will protect me until death parts us.’

‘You must have created an antidote. Where is it?’

‘There’s no antivenom. And before I left Xion, I burned my research,’ Travis said. ‘They’ll be pissed. Years of work, and every file, sample, and backup device are gone. There’s no cure for me.’

Nash lifted his radio. ‘Alpha team—move in.’

‘Don’t do it, Nash,’ Travis said.

‘Armed entry authorised. One man deceased. Perp alive. I want him brought out that way. Repeat, do not kill him. Move in now.’

They heard muffled voices and orders being given. The crunch of boots on the snow-dusted ground reached Nash.

Travis narrowed his eyes. ‘You called them too soon. Let me die.’

Nash kept his voice neutral. ‘We want you alive. Give us that chance.’

‘Alive?’ Travis said. ‘What for? To lock me in a padded room while you pretend this wasn’t your fault?’

He turned, looking at Alan. The killer’s face twisted with something unreadable, and Nash wasn’t fast enough. Travis moved, fast and brutal, as he kicked Alan’s dead body in the head. It made a sickening noise as his boot connected with soft tissue and bone.

‘Stop it,’ Nash shouted.

Travis whispered. ‘He cast me out like rubbish. You think he gets to die clean? I’ll do you a deal, Nash. Call them off and I’ll let you take me out.’

Nash heard the men assembling outside. ‘Let me take you to a hospital.’

Travis’s expression changed. His mouth twitched. Then he smiled. ‘Empty words, inspector. But fine. Let’s trade. You go to hell in my place.’

Travis raised the knife to his throat. ‘I’ll kill myself. I will. Call them off, Nash. Now.’

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