The Lingering by Ben Brown

something in the distance. Intrigued by their body language, he watched them in silence for more than a minute.
    He prided himself on reading people, and nothing about the pair’s demeanour suggested they were scrutinizing anything threatening. Instead, he felt they were witnessing something of interest. In fact, they reminded him of the people he had once travelled with while on a safari in Africa. They looked as if they were marvelling at a pride of lions, or a parade of elephants. Finally, with his interest completely peaked, Archer unzipped his sleeping bag and headed towards them.
    “What’s up?” he asked in a husky whisper.
    Fairclough turned to look at him, but Bartholomew remained glued to whatever wonder the distance held.
    “Morning, Boss. You got to see this.”
    Fairclough handed Archer his binoculars and stepped to one side. Archer moved into place beside Bartholomew, and raised the glasses to his eyes.
    His gaze fell on a spectacle approximately a mile or so away. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of Lingering traipsed slowly around in a massive circle. The low bush which covered most of the ground in the area had been trampled flat, and a large plume of dust rose into the air above them. Archer increased the magnification of his binoculars, and tried to focus in on their faces.
    All of the unfortunate creatures stomped around with their heads hung low. This made it hard for Archer to get a good look at them, but he studied them as best he could. Even with the limited glimpse he got, he could tell none of them were biters. He lowered the binoculars and turned to Fairclough.
    “Who spotted them first?”
    “Dallas did, but the group was much smaller then. He was using night vision when he spotted a group of about fifty Lingering. One of them collapsed to the floor and the others started to circle it. Pretty soon Lingering started to appear from everywhere, and they just joined in.”
    Archer turned to Bartholomew. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
    She shook her head. “No, but it’s unusual to see this number of Lingering together. I think we should take a closer look.”
    Archer nodded. “I agree. None of them look aggressive, so I think we can risk it.” He turned to Fairclough. “Wake the others and break camp. Once you’re done, take up sniper cover points. If you spot any that look like biters, take them out.”
    “Sure, Boss. Should I remind you to be careful?”
    “You just did.”
     
    Archer led the way towards the massive herd in a low crouching walk. None of The Lingering seemed the least bit interested in them. The pair came to a stop just out of arms reach of the outer circle of the slowly revolving mass of decaying beings.
    Archer turned to the doctor at his side and asked, “What do you want to do? Do you want to push to the centre of the herd?”
    “We have an opportunity to really learn something new, so I think we should at least try.”
    Archer nodded his agreement. “I think you’re right, just make sure all your skin is covered. We don’t want one of those things scratching us.”
    The two began rolling down their sleeves, and then pulled thick gloves from their belts and quickly placed them on their hands. Finally, they drew down the protective face masks which were attached to the top of their helmets.
    Archer stood and pulled a knife. The other hand he offered to Bartholomew. “Move slowly, no sudden moves and only talk if needed, and even then only in a whisper.”
    Making sure to keep their eyes open for biters, the two edged into the slow moving mass of decomposition and stench. Archer’s earpiece crackled to life, and he heard the panicked voice of Bouchard in his ear.
    “Boss, ‘ave you lost your mind, what are you and that pretty little thing playing at? You’re going to get yourselves killed!”
    Archer released Bartholomew’s hand and raised it slowly to his throat-mike. He clicked the button twice, acknowledging Bouchard’s transmission, but he