Blood Crazy by Simon Clark Page A

house on Briar Lane.’
    â€˜How many?’
    â€˜Just the one, Dave. There’s something wrong with his leg. He can’t walk right.’
    â€˜Well done, Robert. Get some lunch. After that check the river banks as far as Camel’s.’
    Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘Mr Creosote?’
    Rebecca said, ‘It’s a generic name for the affected adults. A girl used the name Mr Creosote to describe one of the adults that had become ill. The younger ones carried on using the name. It stuck. Now the mentally ill adults have become Mr and Mrs Creosote.’
    â€˜It’s a way of sugar coating a very bitter pill, Miss Hayes.’ Martin leaned back picking his fingernails. ‘It frightens the children to say we’re being hounded by a million madmen. Mr Creosote doesn’t sound completely sinister, does it now?’
    A week ago I’d have wanted to slap the arrogant egghead. I nodded meekly.
    â€˜From what we’ve seen adults are the only ones affected.’ Sarah, brisk, still hunted answers. ‘They attacked their own children – if they have no children they attack anyone under the age of twenty.’
    â€˜Nineteen.’ Martin found his fingernails fascinating. ‘We’ve notfound anyone nineteen or older who is sane. We’ve not encountered anyone insane under that age. Whatever attacked their minds was brutally selective.’
    Sarah leaned forward bunching her fists on her knees. ‘But what caused it?’
    â€˜That, Miss Hayes, is what I intend to find out.’
    Dave said, ‘Martin is excused normal duties. He’s been assigned to research. It’s his job to track down the cause.’
    â€˜From what I can determine so far,’ Martin said, ‘the condition is similar to the mental illness schizophrenia.’
    â€˜I’ve heard of it,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s curable.’
    â€˜Yes, in most cases it can be treated with drugs. But I said
similar
to schizophrenia. Not the same. Many of the symptoms are present. Paranoia and delusions. Mr and Mrs Creosote seem to be actually afraid of their children – perhaps when they see us they don’t see their sons and daughters but disgusting, frightening monsters that they feel compelled to destroy before we destroy them. Also you’ll have noticed their intellect has been top sliced, rendering them subhuman. They no longer drive cars, live in houses, or use tools.’
    Dave added: ‘We’ve seen bizarre patterns in their behaviour. Have you?’
    I told them about the mass migration south I’d seen on the motorway.
    â€˜We’ve seen them laying out bottles,’ Dave said, ‘cans, even jewellery in patterns in car parks and fields. Patterns that although intricate are just … just—’
    â€˜Just plain potty.’ For the first time Martin sounded interested in the conversation. ‘It suggests that these patterns have purpose and are very, very important to Mr and Mrs Creosote.’ He smiled. ‘Consequently it appears that Mr Creosote is attempting to communicate with someone.’
    â€˜Who?’
    Martin raised his eyes. ‘Someone up there.’
    We talked more, then Dave leaned forward. ‘Sarah. Nick. The question is, would you like to join our community?’
    What else could we say?
    We said it together. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
    â€˜If you would just fill in these, please.’ Rebecca handed us a sheet of paper. ‘It’s a short questionnaire. It’s important we know something about you and what talents you possess so we can use you most effectively within the community.’
    Dave Middleton had re-created a slice of civilization in a furniture store in the middle of madland. I knew then I’d hate having to conform and follow the orders of a smarmy church boy.
    But I had answered his question truthfully when we first met.
    Yes, I wanted to live. So far, Dave Middleton’s