Infection Z (Book 4) (5 page)

H
ayden turned around
and looked at the back of his cell.

He’d heard a voice. Somewhere behind him, away from all the madness of the prison, he’d heard someone. So clearly that it sounded like they were in the cell with him.

But nobody was there.

Just a low bed. A thin mattress laid on top of it. A toilet. A sink. Wasn’t sure if there was any flowing water supply in here. Probably not. Probably why they’d given him the drinking bottle.

But the voice.

Was it real?

Or just another figment of his imagination?

Was it—

“I’m in the cell next to you. Come close to the wall and we can talk.”

The hairs on Hayden’s arms raised. He wasn’t imagining things. He wasn’t going fucking crazy.

There really was somebody talking to him.

A woman.

A woman in the cell next door.

He staggered over to the left of his cell. Crouched down. Put his ear to where he thought the voice came from.

“Don’t make it look obvious,” the woman said. “Just lean back. You’ll hear me and I’ll hear you.”

Hayden leaned against the wall. He wasn’t sure how this woman knew he’d been “making it look obvious” in the first place. But she was right. Maybe people before him had made the same mistake.

Or maybe she could see, somehow.

“Who… who are you?” he asked.

“Name’s Miriam.”

“Miriam. I’m Hayden—”

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is your decision.”

“My decision?”

“About whether you want to stay locked up in this ‘camp’ forever. Safe for a while, possibly. But locked up. Like a prisoner.”

Hayden looked over at the cell door. Saw more doors like his on the other side of the prison. “Don’t think we have much choice.”

“Not right now. But strange things can happen if you’re willing to fight for them.”

Hayden rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head was banging. He wanted nothing more than sleep. “Look. I… I was bundled in a truck back in Wigan. I’ve spent the whole night travelling down to… to wherever this is, being crushed by masses of people. Oh, and I was tasered. Tasered to get me into the truck.”

“Then their methods are getting more violent,” Miriam said.

“Whose methods? Who are these people?”

Silence from Miriam.

“Miriam, who are—”

“Don’t know who exactly. But I know where we are. We’re in the Midlands. Just south of Crewe. And I know what these people know about.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“There’s a wall. Towards the south of England. A wall splitting the country into north and south.”

Hayden frowned. He looked over at the door of the cell. Looked out at the people lying on their beds. Crying. Caged in. “What wall?”

“Apparently they built this wall pretty rapidly when Britain started falling. A fence system. A way to keep the zombies out. A north-south divide. A real safe place. A place of refuge.”

Hayden couldn’t help but shake his head. “Sounds like a fantasy.”

“You sound like a cynic.”

“Isn’t everyone nowadays?”

“No,” Miriam said, pausing between her words. “The best thing to be is a realist. Then a fantasist. Then a cynic.”

“And why’s that?”

“At least the fantasist still has something to look forward to. The cynic might as well be dead.”

Hayden pondered Miriam’s words. Truth be told, none of them seemed to make sense. Something about a wall. A wall dividing Britain in two. “Who… who made this wall?”

“What’s left of the government, I guess. Maybe the armed forces. A place to take people. To start again. Somewhere free of undead. No point clearing out the hundreds of thousands of dead above the wall. Might as well just leave them to fall themselves.”

“And you believe this, why?”

A pause from Miriam.

The sound of footsteps clanging against the metal prison walkway.

“Miriam?”

“Because I reached it.”

“You reached it?”

“I got to it. With my old group. We heard a rumour or two. Didn’t have much hope left. And word’s travelling anyway. Amazed you’ve not already heard of it.”

“I… I don’t mix with people much these days.”

“That’d explain it.”

Hayden had so many questions but none of them added up, made sense. “If you reached it then…”

“Why am I in here? Good question. Making my way towards it when this group scoots down from nowhere. Bundles me and my friends in the back of a truck with a bunch of children, old folks. Say they’re taking us to a safe place. Now we’re sceptical. Course we are. Start to worry when we spend hours on the journey. But it’s already too late. In here before we know it. And not a thing we can do about it. Until now.”

Miriam’s answers didn’t seem to be getting any less confusing. “Then who are these people?”

“My guess is a rival group. Some other power-hungry do-gooder who wants to keep things the way they are on the outside. Get the credit for restarting society from within, some bullshit like that. Dunno though. What’s important is whether you’re with us.”

Hayden thought about Miriam’s offer. “With you on what?”

“In ten seconds, I’m going to throw a sharp piece of wall tile out of the front of my cell. You’re going to choose whether to take that tile or not. In an hour, or a few hours, you’re going to get a visit from a guard called Tim. He’ll be here to take you down to induction. You go with him. You’ve no choice there. When you reach the corridor with the old offices on the left, you have a choice.”

“What choice?”

“Simple. You walk on with Tim and you continue your little prison life in here. Or you stab him in the neck.”

“Stab him in the—?”

“You stab him. You take his keys. And his clothes if you have the time. And then you come back to my cell and you let me out. I’ll take lead from there.”

Hayden’s heart raced. He didn’t know what to say. “But—but what if—”

“I’m throwing the tile now.”

“Miriam, I—”

The tile landed right in front of Hayden’s cell. Right between the metal bars. Just in reach.

“Take it or leave it. Just know that by leaving it, you’re condemning everyone in this place—yourself included—to a life in prison.”

Hayden stared at the tile. At its sharp edge.

“Why can’t you?” he asked.

“Why can’t I what?”

“Why can’t you stab the guard?”

“Because Tim isn’t coming for me,” Miriam said. “Not anymore. I get meals delivered. I get the occasional medical check. But I don’t leave this cell, Hayden. And neither will you. That’s why it needs to be you. You’re my first neighbour since I got to this place. Please. Don’t let this pass.”

Hayden’s mind raced. “But downstairs. The canteen.”

“It’s for show,” Miriam said. “You really think they’d just let people wander ’round freely? Don’t believe what they tell you. Don’t believe their smiles. Don’t even believe a fellow prisoner. ’Cause you don’t know what the guards have told them.”

Hayden’s stomach tensed. “Then how do I trust you?”

Miriam chuckled. “That’s your decision to make. Choose it wisely. Hold up. I think… shit.”

“Miriam? What’s up? What’s wrong?”

“Shit. He’s too early. Way too fucking early.”

“What you talking about?”

“Tim,” Miriam called. “He’s… he’s on his way down the corridor. To your cell. Right this fucking minute.”

Hayden listened to the approaching footsteps of the guard called Tim.

The sharp-edged tile stared back at him from outside the bars.

H
ayden listened
to Tim’s footsteps follow closely behind him.

He walked down the metal pathway in front of the cells. He looked inside those cells. Saw so many different faces. People staring back at him. And regardless of the smiley faces and positive quotes etched on the white walls of this building, they didn’t look happy. They didn’t look content.

Even the people who were smiling looked like they had a gun to their head.

Hayden remembered what Miriam told him.

“Don’t believe their smiles.”

Maybe they did have a gun to their head after all, of a sort.

“Come on, pal,” Tim said, his voice friendly, jovial. “I’m not the quickest of walkers but dammit, you don’t half drag your feet!”

Hayden glanced around. Looked at Tim. He was pretty old. Short, thinning grey hair. Round glasses so strong they magnified his eyes. Breath smelled of pickled onion.

But he seemed… nice. Friendly. He seemed okay.

“Don’t believe their smiles.”

Maybe what Miriam told him was true. Maybe he should be wary. Of other people. Of everyone in this place.

But how did that exclude her?

Who was to say she wasn’t just setting Hayden up for some personal benefit of her own?

Shit, he hadn’t even looked the woman in the eye yet. He’d just heard her voice. Heard her voice behind the cell wall. Heard some bullshit about a fence splitting the north and the south. About an old group of hers reaching it, then being tossed into the back of a truck—just like Hayden—and brought here.

As Hayden turned, climbed down the metal steps, every footstep echoing through the prison, he wondered if perhaps Miriam was lying. Maybe this was all some kind of test. A loyalty test. Maybe Tim was being nice for a reason—to lull him into a false sense of security.

Maybe he was just waiting for Hayden to attack. To take his opportunity. A way of sifting the loyal from the opportunists.

Or maybe he was just a guard called Tim.

Maybe there was a corridor coming up. A corridor with an old office on the left.

Maybe Miriam genuinely wanted Hayden to help her so they could get out of here.

It seemed outlandish. It seemed fucking mental.

But Hayden wasn’t sure what to believe.

“Right-o, you,” Tim said as the pair of them reached the bottom of the stairs. “This place is gonna be your second home for a while. Get to know it.” He pointed at the canteen area. Pointed at the metal tables. People sat around them, eating, smiling and laughing together. They didn’t look at Hayden. And Hayden wasn’t sure why that was. Were they really engrossed in conversation? Or were they just actors playing a part? Building the false sense of security?

If so, why?

“Tell you what,” Tim said, patting Hayden on his right shoulder.

Hayden winced.

“Ohh. I am sorry, fella. Hurt your shoulder?”

Hayden shook his head. “Just a bruise.”

“We can get it checked out in med bay after your induction if it’s really botherin’ you. Might as well. Never saw the point of suffering in silence, y’know?”

“I’m fine. Honestly.” Hayden forced a smile. He hoped it didn’t come across as unnatural as it felt.

Big Tim chuckled. Tilted his head at the door in front. “Induction’s through there. Shouldn’t take too long. Just wanna get to know you. Learn what makes you tick. And vice versa. That okay with you?”

Hayden stopped at the door. The sound of chatter surrounded him, clouded his thoughts. The smells from the canteen seemed unnatural. He felt like he was dreaming. Like this was some sort of bullshit dream.

Maybe walking on would be the best option. Maybe living in a place like this wasn’t so bad after all.

Locked in with himself or locked out with
them
?

Was this place really as much of a hellhole as Miriam made it out to be?

Was this “wall” really as safe as she claimed?

Was it even real?

Hayden turned. Walked through the door in front. The light of the prison contrasted with the dull, gloominess of the corridor.

“Just up ahead. A few people waiting in there for you. Cheers for being… well, decent company. I’ve met worse.”

Hayden saw it.

He saw the windows on his left. Dusty. Inside, old CRT screens. Looked like they hadn’t been switched on in years.

The corridor.

The corridor Miriam told him to do it in.

To take Tim out.

Take his keys.

Get back to her and help her escape.

“Well, go on,” Tim said, chuckling. “We’re not attached at the waist, thank the Lord. Just ahead. Through the next door.”

Nausea built inside Hayden. Tim’s voice sounded so loud. He felt the change in air temperature hit him acutely. The tastes in his dry mouth grew more intense.

He reached into his pocket.

Reached for the sharpened piece of tile.

Either put it through Tim’s neck and get out of this place.

Or walk on and survive.

Walk on and survive.

Walk on and…

“Oh,” Tim said. “Almost forgot. Summat you were s’posed to do before you got to induction. Ain’t that right, number seven?”

Hayden turned around.

He couldn’t say a word in response.

Tim was pointing a pistol at him.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Drop that weapon of yours and kick it over here before I fill you with lead. You’ve been ratted out, you scheming sonofabitch.”

“
G
o on
, number seven. Make this nice and easy for yourself. Roll the fucking weapon over this way.”

Hayden stared into Tim’s glaring eyes. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say, just that he wanted to go back to his cell, to hide. Fuck. Miriam. She’d double-crossed him. He’d taken the fucking tile and she’d double-crossed him.

“It—it’s not what it looks like,” Hayden started.

Tim stepped closer to Hayden. “I don’t give a ruddy damn what it looks like. Your cellmate told me about that weapon of yours.”

“She—she gave it to me!”

“Oh I bet she did,” Tim said. “I bet she did. Just like you’re gonna give it to me right now. Then we’ll have a talk with management. A proper talk. How’s that sound?”

Everything moved so quickly it didn’t seem like it was real. Hayden hadn’t asked to be in this place. He’d tried to get the hell away from Thomas’ group when they got to Danny’s with their truck. Fuck. He should never have gone back to Danny’s. Should’ve stayed well away. Away from the past. Away from everyone. Because digging up demons just created new ones.

He saw that now. Saw it clearly.

Pity it was already too late.

“I’m gonna count to five. If you haven’t given me that weapon of yours, I’ll shoot you. We can say it’s self-defence. Nobody’ll bat an eyelid. One.”

“I swear, I took it because—”

“Two.”

Hayden’s heart raced.

“Three.”

He didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have a fucking choice.

“Four.”

“Okay! Okay.” Hayden lifted the sharpened piece of tile from his pocket. He lifted his hand. The object felt alien between his fingers.

Tim nodded. “Now slide it across the floor.”

Hayden gulped. “I’m telling you, this isn’t what it—”

“Slide it across the fucking floor!”

Tim’s booming voice rattled Hayden’s body.

He had no choice.

He lowered down. Slid the tile across the floor. And as it drifted away, he saw all hope disappearing. All hope of ever getting out of this place. All hope of surviving. Hell. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Miriam had set him up for whatever reason, so there obviously was no North-South divide. It was all bullshit.

Still a world of nothing.

A world of imprisonment, whether you were outside or in.

No point fighting. Not anymore.

He looked up at Tim. His gun was lowered now. Hayden saw him smiling as he lifted the tile.

“Good,” Tim said.

He raised his gun again.

Pointed it at Hayden.

“We can still call it self-defence.”

Hayden squeezed his eyes shut.

Waited for the bullet to split his skull.

It didn’t.

He heard a thud. Heard some struggling.

A thud? Why would there be a thud? What was the noise?

He opened his eyes.

Peeked at where Tim stood.

Tim was on his knees.

Blood rolled down his face from a crack in his skull.

He fell face flat in a pool of his own blood.

Hayden stared at Tim. Mouth open. Unable to speak.

“Sorry how that had to play out,” someone said.

Hayden glanced over the top of Tim’s fallen body. He’d been so stunned that he didn’t even clock anyone else was here with them.

He saw a woman. Chocolate brown hair. Short, probably little over five foot. Bright blue eyes. Plump lips.

She was holding a fire axe.

“Pleasure to meet you, ‘Hayden’,” she said. “Now come on. I don’t have long.”

She ran past Hayden in the opposite direction to the canteen. Disappeared into one of the old offices before Hayden could even ask who she was.

But he knew who she was.

He recognised her voice clearly.

Miriam.

Hayden followed her through into the old office. Saw her rushing around the place, kicking up dust with every step.

“Must be around here somewhere,” she said.

“What… How did you—”

“Sorry you had to do that. Again. Really. I knew Tim was coming. Needed to get him out the way fast somehow. That’ll teach him to lean back against the cell doors with his master key handy. Well, it won’t. But it’s a shame. He was a decent guy. I really believe that. Shit. It’s here.”

She reached a panel on the wall. Flipped it open, smile on her face.

“You killed him,” Hayden said.

Miriam turned. Pinched expression on her face. “Seriously. Don’t give me that crap. Like you’ve never killed anyone to make it this far. Anyway, go back to your cell if it’s what you really want. You’ve played your part. Nobody’ll be bothered about you when me and my people disappear. Seriously.”

Hayden watched Miriam turn the key. “The… the wall. In the south. Is that…”

“Real? Course it’s real. Everything I told you is real. Except for your little distraction mission. But that kind of worked out for the best in the end, right?”

“Depends what you mean by ‘best’.”

Miriam walked away from the panel on the wall. Outside the cells, Hayden heard the collective echo of metal rattling open.

“Look,” Miriam said, squaring up to Hayden, as well as a five-foot woman could square up to anyone. “If you aren’t sure about following me, don’t follow me. If you really are as fucking cynical as I think you are, stay here. Rot in here. You’ll probably be a hell of a lot safer.”

She walked past Hayden. Towards the corridor. Crouched down and took Tim’s gun from his fingers, which still looked tense.

“What if… what if I join you?”

Miriam turned. Looked back at Hayden. Behind the canteen door, he could hear cries and shouts. Mostly shouts of joy. Footsteps clanging against the corridors, against the metal staircase. “I’d appreciate a hand, in all truth. We could use all the help we can get. But if you aren’t up for it… you know what you have to do.”

Hayden listened to the footsteps. Listened to the people escaping their cells. He knew he didn’t have long to make a decision. He knew he didn’t have long to make his choice.

Stay in here. Be safe. Be alone.

Or leave this place.

Get out.

Be free again.

And what Miriam said. About the wall in the south…

No.

That was a pipe dream.

The priority was getting out of this place.

“Come on,” Miriam said. “You’re coming out this door one way or—”

An alarm sounded from above.

“Everyone on the ground this fucking second!”

Gunfire rattled through the prison.

Hayden thought it was just for show until he saw the blood.

The guards stepped into the prison from upstairs. Firing bullets into everyone still standing. Putting them down like this was all just some kind of game. Painting the walls red.

“Looks like the guards have made your choice for you, Hayden,” Miriam said. “Any good with a fire axe?”

She handed the axe to him.

He looked down at it. Looked at her. A person. A person showing trust in him. Showing confidence in him.

He didn’t like it.

But he didn’t have a choice.

So he took the axe.

The alarm rattling above.

The gunshots peppering through the prison.

Miriam smiled. “Come on. Better get escaping this place.”