Surviving the Fall: How England Died (31 page)

Chapter 12

Chris eyed the growing group of zombies at the far side of the car park. They had started to come a few minutes ago. First one, then another, then another.

Luckily they didn’t seem interested in coming towards the high rise - the belching grey smoke and roaring flames of the car held their attention well.

Even so, Chris kept his head down, and tried to stay still. How did they find people, he wondered. Smell? Vision? Movement?

Chris still gripped the gun in his right hand. The baseball bat was sitting on the passenger seat.

No sign of movement yet from the apartment block.

Come on Terry.

Apart from the zombies, everything was still, horribly still. Something in the atmosphere just felt wrong. Towers of smoke in the distance indicated tens of fires in the city and beyond.

Chris’ heart missed a beat.

The other side of the car park - figures approaching. About ten. Fast, not shuffling, not zombies.

Tracksuits, hoodies, balaclavas. They carried weapons. One of them raised what looked like a baseball bat and pointed it towards the Hummer.

The group parted and a person that Chris recognised came to the front.

Simeon.

He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. It was covered in blood. There was no obvious cuts on him. Must be someone else’s.

Still no sign of Terry and the others. Chris felt panic grip him. Simeon would be on him in seconds.

“Hey Chris,” shouted Simeon. “Game over lad!”

Chris would probably be safe in the Hummer. He made sure the doors were locked.

But what about when Terry and the others got here? Simeon and his group would make mince meat of them, even if Terry did have a gun. Maybe Simeon had one too.

No, he would have it out already.

Chris had an idea.

He wound the window down an inch. He pushed the barrel of the gun out the gap, pointed it towards the approaching gang. He pulled the trigger.

The effect was immediate.

Simeon’s crew dived in behind cars.

The zombies let out a loud moan and turned towards the bang. They saw the hiding scallies and began their lumbering walk towards them, their groans taking on an excited pitch.

They could definitely tell the difference between a burning car and living flesh, that’s for sure.

Terry, Nan, Nate and Amy paused on the stairs.

It was hard to tell where the gunshot had come from, its sound ricochetting around the concrete stair well made it directionless.

“Was that a gun?” said Nan.

“I reckon,” said Terry. He took out his gun and held it uncertainly. He didn’t feel comfortable, or powerful, with a gun. He felt like a kid who didn’t know what he was doing.

“What do we do?” said Amy. Their voices echoed loudly in the relative silence after the gunshot.

“The same as before, just a bit more slowly. Let’s be careful.” Terry motioned to them to continue down the stairs.

Simeon shouted from behind a car. “You can’t hide in there forever Chris, what happens when Nan gets down here then?”

A few of the scallies ran from behind the cars and towards the zombies. They started to plough through them with their baseball bats, axes and spades. Blood and fragments of bone scattered into the air.

But more zombies, a lot more, where arriving from different sides of the car park.

Chris let go another shot.

Simeon made a dash from behind one car to another. Chris fired a few times, but missed.

Benno darted in behind the same car as Simeon. Chris fired again.

The shots where attracting a lot of attention. It must have been the only sound for miles. The sound cracked through the air. Zombies were now arriving in their tens, squeezing into the car park, in between the cars.

Simeon’s gang had their work cut out for them, but they were smashing and slashing their way through the crowd of undead with relish. They looked like they were enjoying it. Violence and death with no consequences.

A blur of movement as Simeon darted from one car to another, closer. He was now only about ten yards away.

Chris let out a volley of shots. The bullets splintered the car’s frame and shattered the windows.

Benno and another scallie joined Simeon. Chris fired twice, and then the gun clicked.

Bollocks. Out of ammo.

“You bloody idiot,” said Chris to himself.

“You never where the brightest,” said Simeon, standing up, a triumphant grin on his face. “Let’s be having you.”

He ran towards the Hummer, holding his baseball bat high.

Chris quickly rolled up the window. Just in time. Simeon smashed his bat against the window.

The window vibrated, but the window held, no problem. The bat bounced off harmlessly.

Simeon slapped his palm onto the window and brought his face close up to the glass. He pointed at Chris.

“Best go have a word with your Nan then,” said Simeon.

Benno appeared next to Chris, “Gonna get you, ya nobhead! And your Nan!”

They ran into the high rise.

Chris gripped the steering wheel. He squeezed tight, his knuckles going white.

He yelled.

Terry and the others ran down the stairs, ignoring the gun shots from below. They reached the third floor and stopped. They heard shouting.

Terry held the gun out in front of him as he had seen cops do in American TV shows.

“Nate, stay behind me, got that?”

The young boy nodded, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.

They reached the landing of the second floor, and there was the sound of a door banging shut from below.

Terry held up his hand to stop the others from running, and then held his finger to his mouth to indicate silence.

Footsteps running up the stairs. Echoing rudely in the silence.

Terry held the gun up, and pointed it at the top of the stairwell coming up from the first floor.

A shaved head appeared.

“Benno?” said Amy.

Another head appeared, swarthy, dark hair, small eyes.

“Simeon!” shouted Nan.

Terry let off a shot, he didn’t even think. The word, the name, had been like a ignitor switch.

The bullet ricocheted off the wall, missing Simeon’s head by a few feet.

Benno and Simeon retreated back down the stairs.

Chris heard a shot from inside the high rise.

That must have been Terry.

Chris surveyed the car park. The zombies were filling the far edges, moving in like a wall. The scallies where doing their best to keep at bay, but were slowly being overrun.

One of them, in a green Adidas t-shirt, was up against a white van, three zombies surrounding him. He swung wildly with his axe and cleaved the top of one head, but the other heads locked onto his shoulders. Bright red blood spurted across the van, like some abstract painting they’d have in some art gallery.

The zombies were keeping the scallies at bay, but not for long.

Chris had to move.

He slid over to the passenger side which was nearest the entrance to the high raise. He grabbed the baseball bat, took a deep breath and opened the Hummer door.

He jumped out and ran into the high rise. Shouts and moans from the scallies vs zombie battle behind him followed him into the high rise, then took on a tinny quality as he ran up the stairs.

He heard another shot.

Terry ran to the top of the stairwell and fired again at the retreating figures. Simeon disappeared around the corner.

“Wait there,” shouted Terry to those behind him.

“Dad!” shouted Nate, his face taking on a forlorn look. Amy put her arm around him.

“It’s alright Nate, wait there.”

Terry walked cautiously down the stairs, his gun out in front of him, his nerves causing his finger to twitch at the slightest sound or movement.

“Take it easy lad…” he whispered to himself as he approached the corner.

Chris accelerated up the stairs.

He bumped into someone coming down. He tried to keep his balance, but lost it and slipped forward, landing on his face. His bat bounced out of his hand.

He felt a quick sharp pain to the side of his cheek. He’d been kicked hard. Stars zoomed around his vision.

There was a loud bang, and he felt another pain, this one in his shoulder, hot and biting. He let out a loud cry and rolled to the left, trying to get away from whatever was attacking him.

Terry saw a melee of figures on the landing.

The one on the floor was Chris and the two standing were Benno and Simeon.

Terry pulled the trigger.

Chris let out a cry, grabbed his shoulder and rolled to his left.

“Shit,” said Terry.

He fired again, and blood burst from Benno’s chest.

Simeon jumped over Chris and ran down the stairs before Terry could get another shot off.

Chris got up. He took his hand away from his shoulder, it was covered in blood. The bullet had glanced off his shoulder. It wasn’t deep. Even though, it hurt.

“You shot me you dickhead!” he said to Terry.

“Now we’re even,” said Terry.

The sound of a door slamming from below.

Simeon.

“Shit, the keys to the Hummer,” said Chris, “Still in there.”

Terry and Chris leapt down the stairs.

They got to the bottom and ran out of the high rise, Simeon was in the Hummer and was starting up the engine.

Terry raised he gun and fired at the Hummer as it pulled away into the car park.

“Don’t bother,” said Chris, “Proper bullet proof.”

Chris ran after the Hummer. Terry followed.

The Hummer pulled to the left and right. It ran over zombies and crashed into stationary cars sending them sliding to the left and right.

“Hey!” shouted one of the scallies, seeing Simeon making his escape. He joined the chase.

The Hummer ran into a thick bunch of zombies and its bonnet rose into the sky as it rolled over the bodies. Simeon lost control and the vehicle spun to the right, crashing into a parked white van.

Before he could reverse, the chasing scallie pulled open the door.

“Where you going nobhead?”

He grabbed Simeon by the shoulders and yanked at him, trying to dislodge him from the Hummer.

In turn, a zombie grabbed the lad from behind sank its teeth into the back of his head. Blood spurted with a nasty squelch.

Simeon tried to pull the door closed, but the zombie fell into the Hummer, blocking the door.

Chris and Terry held their distance as a number of zombies congregated on the vehicle.

Rotten and bloody hands pulled at Simeon and yanked him out of the driver’s seat. He let out a yell as teeth sunk into his flesh, ripping and pulling at his muscle and skin. Blood fountained into the air as an artery was pierced. Pink tubes of intestines were fought over and a dripping juicy heart was held high by one zombie as the other’s fought to grab it.

“Fuckin’ hell,” said Terry.

Chris smiled, “Couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke.”

Moans from behind. Zombies were approaching.

A scallie lay dead a few feet away. A large axe was in his hand. Terry picked it up.

“We need that Hummer,” said Terry, feeling the weight of the axe.

By now, at least ten zombies stood around the Hummer, picking apart the remains of Simeon and the scallie.

“You ready?” said Chris, holding his baseball high.

“Let’s do it,” said Terry, holding high the axe.

Chris ran forward. “Come on then you undead nobheads!”

Chapter 13

Nan, Amy and Nate stood on the stairs. Shots.

Terry said something to Chris, their voices floating up the stairs. Then the sound of their footsteps as they ran away.

“Where’s me dad going?” said Nate.

“Don’t you worry son,” said Nan, resting her hands on Nate’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Your dad’ll be back.”

Amy walked slowly to the edge of the stair-well and peered round the corner.

She put her hand to her mouth and gasped.

“What is it?” said Nan.

“It’s Benno, he’s dead.”

“Oh God save us,” said Nan as she pulled Nate closer.

“What do we do Nan?” said Amy.

They couldn’t stand here, on this stairwell. It was cold, it smelled bad and it was terrifying to be surrounded by concrete with the world falling apart outside.

“Let’s get downstairs, and get these bags down.” Nan gently pushed Nate towards the pile of bags. “We gonna have to get out of here quickly.”

Between them they picked up the bags and lugged them down the stairs onto the ground floor.

Nan realised they had made a mistake.

Outside was teeming with the zombies. Loads of the young scallies from the estate were running round with makeshift weapons, fighting them, and getting killed by them,

A fire burnt in the corner of the car park. It belched thick black smoke into the sky, its burning roar the background to the shouts, moans and screams the filled the air.

Chris and Terry were nowhere to be seen. Nan felt panic spread through her. She squeezed her hand to her chest as a tight pain in her chest reminded her that she was no longer young.

Nate ran to the door of the high rise. He pointed to the far end of the car park, “Look! It’s me dad!”

“Wait, Nate, wait!” shouted Nan.

“Stop,” shouted Amy.

But Nate didn’t listen. He charged out into the standing battle in the car park.

“You bloody idiot,” said Nan, under her breath, to herself. They should have stayed put.

“Stay here Nan,” said Amy, “I’ll go get him.”

“No you won’t girl,” said Nan, gripping Amy’s hand. “You stay here with the stuff.”

“But Nan, I’ll-”

“Listen to me girl. This ain’t a place for young’uns, you understand?” Nan took her frying pan out of one of the bags. “You stay here, got it?”

Amy nodded.

Nan walked quickly, almost jogged, out into the car park, trying to ignore the pain in her dodgy hip.

A zombie appeared to her left. It was Mr Kapoor from the Chemist’s. His white coat was covered in patches of blood and one of his eyes was hanging out, like them joke glasses you could get in Southport.

He reached a bloodied hand towards Nan.

She swung the frying pan hard, connecting with Mr Kapoor’s skull with a dull clang. He tottered, and Nan hit him again. His skull cracked and he fell.

“Sorry, Mr Kapoor,” said Nan.

There was a high cry from ahead. Nate was on the floor, two zombies were closing in on him. He must have fallen.

“Hey!” shouted Nan, “Leave him alone, you pair of nobheads!”

She broke into a run. Her hips, and now her knees too, cried out in pain. She swung the frying pan and connected with the another zombie, Mrs Grantham from the church group. She always was a stuck up bint, always going on about her Jack going to Uni. Nan felt satisfaction as Mrs Grantham’s skull cracked.

A third zombie lurched for Nan, but she managed to get out of the way, and swing the frying pan again to hit this zombie, who she didn’t recognise, hard on the back of the head. It lost balance and fell onto the bonnet of a white Subaru. She swung again, and again. The skull cracked and a portion of brain spilled out onto the bonnet of the car.

She lent over and helped Nate up.

Nate was unable to speak, his face white with fear. He smiled at Nan. He pointed to the other side of the car park.

The Hummer. Surrounded by zombies. Chris and Terry were running towards the group.

Nate tugged on Nan’s hand, but she couldn’t move. He tugged harder. “Come on Nan!”

Her left hip had stopped. It was frozen, she couldn’t move her leg. Excruciating pain tore up the side of her body.

She grimaced through the pain. “You go and stay with Amy.”

“But me dad?”

Nan shook her head. “Your dad can manage himself. You go look after Amy.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be alright son.”

Nate looked at Nan, he looked at her hand on her hip, and he looked carefully at her face. She tried to hide her pain.

“I’m staying with you,” said the boy.

Nan opened her mouth to speak, but the air was sucked from her throat. A bang, louder than anything Nan had ever heard, surrounded her. Then she flew through the air.

Nate’s hand slipped from hers.

Chris raised and hammered down his baseball bat with one fluid motion, landing on the nearest zombie’s skull with an audible and jarring crack. The zombie dropped to the ground like a lead weight, its brains spilling out of its shattered skull.

To his right, Terry did the same with his axe, hewing to the left and right, his strong frame having no trouble smashing to pieces the frail remains of humans in front of them.

It was easy, thought Chris. They were too busy eating Simeon and Benno to realise that a second death was upon them. The only danger, thought Chris, was getting tired with all the baseball bat swinging. Terry didn’t seem to have any trouble, but then he was one of them muscle men.

The moans diminished as the number of zombies fell. Terry and Chris soon cleared the ten or so zombies that had crowded in around the Hummer.

Simeon’s body lay at the centre of the scrum. His torso had been shredded, all soft tissue and organs ripped from his insides. His ribs lay exposed, decorated with threads of guts and sinews of flesh like a macabre christmas tree.

“What a fucking mess,” said Terry, turning his nose up at the sight.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke,” said Chris.

More moans from behind them.

“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” said Terry. “Give me the keys.”

“What? No fucking way.”

“We haven’t got time for this. You ever driven anything this big?”

“No. Have you?”

“How about a fucking fire engine,” said Terry.

“You a fireman?”

“Yes, nobhead.”

Chris begrudgingly held out the keys.

He crawled across to the passenger side.

Terry got in next to him and closed the door.

Just in time.

The sky lit up in a fierce yellow. A huge boom sounded, followed by a loud ringing, Chris not sure if it was his ears or the world. The Hummer shook violently to the left and right. A deep vibration drilled through Chris’s body.

Pieces of metal and wood rained down on the windscreen.

“What the fuck?” shouted Chris, instinctively shielding his face, even though everything bounced harmlessly of the strengthened glass.

“Something’s exploded - look!” Terry pointed to the corner of the car park.

Where one car had been burning, there was now four cars and a van burning.

“Fucking hell…” said Chris.

Deep red flames licked high from the vehicles, black smoke tumbled skyward, blacking out the sun.

“Heat must have set off the petrol in the others,” said Terry. “We got to get out of here. Whole car park could go up.”

“Let’s go then nobhead!”

Terry put the Hummer into reverse, and the powerful engine rolled over the many zombie bodies and pushed the cars behind out of the way.

He quickly drove the fifty or so yards back to the apartment. The car park was scattered with burning pieces of debris. Zombies, some on fire, shuffled through the wreckage. A few dazed scallies were running away. Some were being eaten.

They pulled up outside the high rise. Chris wound down the window, there was Amy.

“Come on,” he shouted, banging on the side of the door.

Amy shook her head, “Where’s Nan and Nate?”

“What?” shouted Terry leaning over, “He’s not with you?”

“He ran to try and find you,” said Amy, standing at the side of the Hummer. “Nan legged after him.”

“Fuck!” shouted Chris. He jumped out the Hummer. “Get in here, and close the door.”

Terry jumped out the other side. He shouted across the bonnet to Chris, “Let’s split up, you take the left, I’ll go right.”

Chris charged into the burning landscape of twisted metal, smoking carcasses and hungry zombies. His body was charged with fear and anger. Mainly anger. Everything in him always turned into anger at the end. His love for Nan was now anger. He raged through the car park, swinging his bat to the left and right, hard, infused with an energy that came from right inside him.

A scallie ran out from behind a van. He held up his hands, “Chris, it’s me, Davo!”

Too late. Chris swung his bat and cracked Davo’s skull into pieces. It shattered apart in a red bloody mess.

He ran past a blue Merc into an area of six empty parking spaces. There was Nan.

She was on the floor, next to a white BMW. A piece of large metal stuck out of the boot of the BMW, it was burnt black and smoking.

It had missed Nan by a few feet.

She was awake, but he could tell she was in pain.

A zombie was behind her, only a few feet away. It had seen her, and Nan had seen it, but she wasn’t running. Why wasn’t she running?

“Nan! Fucking move will ya!” Chris ran towards her.

“Me hip’s gone,” she shouted.

Another shout, this one high pitched, a young boy. Nate.

Chris, only yards away from Nan looked to his left. Nate was on the floor. Two zombies held onto a leg each, pulling themselves to Nate. They would be on him in seconds. They would be chewing on his leg in seconds.

Nate’s eyes locked with Chris, wide with terror, tears flowing from his young face. He held his arms to Chris. He screamed.

Chris looked at Nan. She shook her head and pointed at Nate, “Get him lad, don’t be a bloody idiot!”

Chris listened to Nan, he couldn’t allow himself to think. He had to shut his mind off. Just like when he was a young boy, do what Nan tells you to do.

He ran towards Nate and brought his bat down hard on the zombies. Smash, smash. Blood squirted onto the wheel of the nearby car and all over his face.

Nate was screaming.

Someone else was screaming.

Nan.

The zombie had reached her and was biting into her neck. Blood covered its face. Nan’s arms and legs shook uncontrollably like an out of control doll. She let out a warbling gurgling scream. The zombie pulled away, ripping out a tendon, then peeled back the skin all the way down Nan’s arm.

Chris picked up Nate and ran towards Nan. He used his free arm to hit the zombie on the head, the power coming from his one arm enough, his rage enough, to shatter the skull of the fucker.

A few seconds. That was all. A few seconds too late. He’d fucked up again.

Nan shook, like she was having a fit. Chris kneeled beside her, and let Nate down. Tears poured from his eyes. He started to shake too. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out.

“Nan! Don’t die, I’m sorry, come on Nan, I need you.”

Nan tried to speak, but her voice came out as bloody gurgle. She held up her arm slowly and rested it on Chris’s cheek.

“No,” said Chris. Then he shouted it. He embraced Nan.

Someone pulled on his shoulder, a strong hand.

“Dad!” shouted Nate.

“Come on, we have to go!” It was Terry.

Chris fought against the hand, he didn’t want to let Nan go, but there wasn’t any fight left. He let himself be dragged away.