Surviving the Fall: How England Died (7 page)

Chapter 6

Mac jogged up to the pub, his clothes stuck to him with sweat, his lungs feeling crushed against his rib cage, and his shins aching every step he took.

That’s what the easy life does for you, he thought.

Suddenly there was a huge noise above him. He looked up to see three fighter jets screech across the sky, low and fast.

He couldn’t help but smile. The air force were in action, which meant someone was fighting this.

Maybe the army would eventually get all the infected, thought Mac. If they could just stay safe until then.

That’s it, we can lock down the pub.

He ran up to the door and knocked softly, nervous looks over his shoulder.

“Gaz, Gaz, it’s me, Mac, let me in.”

Nothing.

“For Pete’s sakes, Gaz, open the bloody door,” he said a little louder.

He was about to hammer on the door, his temper up, when he realised what the silence could mean… And if the worst had happened, he didn’t want his banging to get his wife coming downstairs to open the door.

He peered in the window through a gap in the curtains. The table where he had left Johnny and Gaz sitting was empty.

The door was bolted from the inside, he would have to find another way in.

He made his way round the back of the car park. Against one of the walls of the pub, sat a large wheelie skip. Thankfully it was mostly empty, so not too heavy, and he was able to shift it with little effort.

Underneath was the cellar chute.

He took off the key ring that he’d attached to this belt that morning - a habit forty years in the making. He smiled, Angie always called him a creature of habit, like an old Bear, she said, that never left its cave and did the same things every day.

He unlocked the cellar chute and eased up the door with one hand, holding the crowbar loosely in the other. His grip was tired, but he didn’t want to be caught by surprise.

He peered in, nothing but shadow. Gently walking down the stairs, he waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the light.

There was movement in the corner of the cellar.

He stiffened and grabbed the crowbar, holding it high, ready to strike.

“Mac, wait, it’s me, it’s Gaz.”

Mac sighed. “You bloody idiot. I nearly brained you!” Mac realised that Gaz had been crouched down behind one of the casks. “What are you doing down here? Where’s Johnny?”

Gaz spoke, through tears. “Sorry Mac, I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?”

“I couldn’t do him. Like you said. I couldn’t do him.”

“You mean he turned?”

Gaz nodded. “Aye, about ten minutes ago. He sort of passed out, went really pale like. I went to get the fire extinguisher, like you said to, and sat on the other side of the table. He was all sweaty, and his veins were sticking out. I didn’t know if that was funny business or not…”

“Just tell me what happened son.”

“He opened his eyes, I thought he was just waking up, but they were all black, like none of the coloured bits. He suddenly went for me across the table - look!”

Gaz held his arm forward, and Mac could make out a dark scratch across Gaz’s arm.

“Have I got it now?” The lad’s voice shook, breaking in pitch every few words.

“Not if he didn’t bite you.” Although Mac didn’t know for sure. He grabbed Gaz by the shoulders, “What happened, where’s Johnny?”

“I ran. I don’t know, I’m sorry Mac, I fucked up. I just came down here and hid. Bloody hell, I’m sorry Mac.”

“Gah,” said Mac, letting go. He looked around for a weapon - a chair leg lay in the corner. “Here,” he said thrusting it at Gaz, “Take this and follow me. And stop your bloody crying. Pull yourself together lad.”

They made their way up the stairs with Mac in front. The cellar door led to the bottom of the stairs. To the right was the pub, and to the left a short corridor led to the kitchen. All looked quiet.

They took a few steps forward, then Mac heard a clang to his left. He held up his hand, “Listen…” he pointed into the kitchen.

There was a sudden tumultuous crash, the sound of metal hitting the floor, and then a low moan.

“Bugger’s in the kitchen,” whispered Mac.

They moved slowly to the kitchen door and Mac peered round the corner, to see Johnny, or at least what used to be Johnny, stumbling around the kitchen. There was a table in the middle, and Johnny, confused, walked back and forth between the wall and table.

Mac eased back into the corridor. “He’s in there alright. Against the back of the wall. You go round one side of the table, I’ll go the other.”

Gaz nodded quickly, sweat forming on his forehead.

“You alright with this?”

Gaz nodded again, “Yeah, sure. I got it.”

As soon as Johnny saw Mac and Gaz enter the room, he let out a loud moan. His movements became frenzied as he pushed against the table, trying to get to them. He bent over the table in a futile attempt to reach them both, moving slightly from side to side, but no definite direction taken.

“We move at the same time,” said Mac. He moved to the right, and Gaz moved to the left.

Johnny moaned again, now confused as to which way to go. His arms moved out in both directions.

Gaz and Mac moved slowly along the sides of the table. “Keep your eyes on him… No sudden movements…” Mac held his crowbar up ready to strike, as did Gaz with the chair leg.

“That’s it Gaz, nice and… Gaz!”

Gaz tumbled and he let out a yell as he fell to the floor.

Johnny spun round fast, got round the table and dived on Gaz, who let out a series of yells, each getting louder than the last.

Mac darted round to Gaz’s side of the table, and reached for Gaz to pull him out of Johnny’s reach, but then Mac felt his feet slipping from under him. He landed hard on the floor, the tiles were wet and slippery. Soup. That was the crash earlier - Johnny had knocked a pot of soup onto the floor.

Mac skidded around, trying to get up. He felt a hand grab his ankle and he kicked it away. He scurried back against the far wall.

“Mac! Mac!” shouted Gaz.

Blood spurted out of Gaz’z mouth as he shouted. Johnny was pulling himself along Gaz’s body, biting, pulling at the flesh. He ripped at Gaz’s stomach, and with the help of his hands, began to pull out a long chain of intestines that went straight into his mouth. Gaz looked down in horror for a few seconds, his cries escalating to an unbearable volume, before he passed out.

Mac pulled himself up, and nearly landed on his arse again. There was a sharp pain in his ankle. “Bollocks”, he shouted.

Johnny looked up from his feast and hissed at Mac. Johnny stood up and began to make his way towards him.

Mac, in shock and pain, backed out of the kitchen, reeling in fear and disgust. He turned and hobbled down the corridor, then realised he hadn’t shut the kitchen door behind him. He turned, but saw Johnny emerging, a new speed and fervour in his motion. Mac practised a swing, but he was unable to get any strength into it, his ankle shouting in pain, threatening to give way.

He turned and made his way up the stairs, pulling himself up the bannister. When at the top, he ducked behind the wall and carefully looked down to the bottom of the stairs. Johnny soon appeared, but stopped at the stairs. He looked around, without looking up. He sniffed, his attention seemingly caught by something back in the direction of the kitchen - Gaz’s corpse no doubt.

Mac sighed in relief as Johnny turned and headed back the way he had come. Mac made his way back to the bedroom - no doubt his wife had heard all the noise.

He knocked gently on his bedroom door, “Angie, it’s me, Mac.”

It only took a few seconds before the door was opened by Ellie.

Mac went in quickly and shut the door behind him. He bolted it. “Help me move this dresser here, against the door.”

“Mac, what happened? We heard all sorts of noise from downstairs, some terrible screams,” said Angie as Mac and Ellie moved the dresser. “Where’s Gaz and Johnny?”

Mac limped over to Angie, “They’re both done for.” He hugged his wife, easing himself down beside her on the bed.

“They’re infected?”

Mac nodded. The strain on his face showing as the pain in his ankle intensified.

“What happened? Are you ok?” said a worried Angie, as she looked him up and down. “You’re covered in blood!”

“Were you bit?” said Ellie, her urgency forcing the question into a shout.

Mac shook his head. “Just pulled my ankle. The blood’s not mine. We tried to to get Johnny, but Gaz slipped and that was that. I tried to help him, but fell over too, that bloody soup. Johnny had knocked it on the floor.”

“Oh Mac,” Angie hugged her husband again, burying her head in his neck.

“Where are they now?” asked Ellie, calming down.

“I think they’re in the kitchen. It’s not pretty in there… Christ on a bike. Here Angie, have a look at my ankle will you?”

Angie eased up his trouser leg to reveal a very red and swollen ankle. She gently felt around the joint and moved his foot slowly as Mac grimaced.

“Can you move it?”

Mac’s foot moved slowly up and down.

“Good. I don’t think it’s broken, maybe you just sprained it.”

“It bloody hurts. You got any of them tablets?”

Angie nodded, “Ellie, can you get some ibuprofen out of the dresser, top drawer.”

Mac took the tablets and lay back on the bed. “Bloody hell. What is happening…”

Ellie sat down on the chair by the window. “There are six now.”

“Six what?” said Angie.

“Six plumes of smoke. There were only four earlier this morning. And I can see a helicopter, but it’s not stopping anywhere.”

Mac sat up, “A helicopter?” He limped over to the window. “I saw a few jets going over before, when I got back from the farm. That helicopter looks like a chinook, military.” He turned to the women, “Looks like we’re getting ourselves sorted. Knew our boys would get in action soon enough.”

“You think the army are going to sort this out?” asked Ellie.

“That’s what they’re there for.”

“But that didn’t happen in the other countries.”

Mac dismissed her with a wave of his hand and a smile. “They didn’t have the British army though, did they? This is what we’re good at. Against the odds, Battle of Britain and all that. Did you know that in 1943…”

“What happened at the farm?” said Angie.

Mac didn’t mind being interrupted, he knew she got tired of his war stories. “It wasn’t good.” He felt a pang of sadness. “Andy and Caroline… well, they didn’t make it.”

“Oh no,” said Angie, tears welling up her eyes again. “This is so awful, just so awful.”

Mac put his arm round her.

“So what do we do?” said Ellie.

“We wait for the army. I reckon they will be sorting out the cities first.”

“So we just sit here? In this room?” said Ellie.

Mac felt a shade of doubt. There was no telling how long the army would be. London, Bristol…might take some time before they headed to the smaller towns.

“We can lock down the pub, there is plenty of canned food in the kitchen, should last us for a good while. Only problem I see is…”

“Our resident infected,” said Ellie.

“Aye, Johnny and Gaz. Although I guess they ain’t Johnny and Gaz anymore.”

“Ellie’s right,” said Angie. “We can’t just stay in this room, we have to find a way to, well, get rid of them,” said Angie, the last part of her sentence whispered.

Mac rubbed his brow, deep in thought. “Ok, so here’s the situation. I can hardly walk, God know’s how long ’til it gets better, You can’t walk,” he looked at Angie, “and you are very pregnant,” he said To Ellie. “Those buggers are tricky, that can move fast when they want to.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“Seven,” said Ellie as a new plume rose from the town.

“You’re in about best shape, Ellie,” said Mac. “How would you feel about braining some of those, what you call them, infected?”

Ellie said, “It would be a pleasure.”

Chapter 7

Ellie held the crowbar in her hand, felt the weight, and took a few practice swings. It felt good to have something to do but sit around and think. She didn’t want to think anymore. She wanted revenge.

Mac talked through the plan once more.

“Ok Ellie, you go into your bedroom, close the door, make sure they can’t see you. Me and Angie will open our bedroom door a gap, keep the dresser up against it and start making hell of a racket, get them up here.

“Once they’re busy trying to get at us through the gap, you come out of your room, and finish them off from behind. Easier that way.”

Ellie nodded. There were butterflies in her stomach, but her mind was calm and clear. Gaz and Johnny weren’t the ones that had got Ed, but they would do. It was the same virus, and getting rid of these two would kill a little bit of it.

“Remember Ellie, super quiet. They can move on a penny, nearly got me this morning. Got poor Gaz no problem. He was only on the floor for a second.

“Now, let me see that swing again.”

She pulled back the crowbar and swung once, twice, with the flat end of the crowbar. Mac had warned her against using the bent end - “It’ll get stuck in the brain.”

Her back hurt a little when she swung, but then it had hurt for the past few months. No difference there.

“Let’s get started,” said Ellie.

Mac pushed against the dresser and moved it a foot. He prised the door open slowly and poked his head through the gap. He looked up and down the corridor.

“All clear. You sure you want to do this?”

Ellie nodded.

Mac pushed the dresser back a further foot so that Ellie could squeeze out.

“Good luck,” said Angie quietly.

“Remember, they won’t see you coming.”

Ellie pushed her way into the corridor. She heard the dresser being pushed back into position and the door was jammed shut so only a small gap was showing.

“Ok,” came Mac’s hushed voice.

Ellie walked the few yards to the next room, on the opposite side of the corridor. She opened the door carefully and peered into the room before entering. It was empty.

She went in and pulled the door to, leaving a slight gap so she could see out to Mac and Angie’s room.

It  was so quiet. Ellie heard her heartbeat and the ringing in her ears. Was this what the world would be like from now on, silent? Had everything stopped?

“Ok Mac,” she threw her whisper across the corridor.

There was few more moment’s silence, and then Mac and Angie started to bang against their door, and yell. “Hey! Hey! Up here, come on! Hey!”

Their voices, Mac’s low timbre and Angie’s high falsetto, worked in unison to create a racket. All Ellie had to do was wait, surely the infected would be along soon.

Her heart started to beat in double time, and she held her belly. Doubt raced across her mind, what the hell was she doing?

The only thing I can do, she thought. Killing these two and then locking down in the pub was the best way she could protect her baby. Tears began to flow. Thoughts of everything that could, and should, have been with her and Ed flashed through her mind, taking on a vivid reality, so real they felt almost like memories. But there never would be any memories of her, Ed, and their child.

The sadness became anger. Just in time.

A heavy moan droned from the bottom of the corridor. Ellie peeks throughout the tiny gap in the door, holding her breath, scared that they would hear her, or maybe smell her.

Two figures slowly made their way around the corner at the bottom of the corridor, shuffling almost silently through the heavy carpet.

Mac increased the noise he was making, but there was no more sound from Angie.

Both the figures where covered in blood, and the one at the back seemed to be trailing a number of pink tubes from it’s stomach. Ellie suddenly realised the tubes were the young man’s guts, hanging freely from an open wound in his stomach. Ellie pulled back from the gap and held her hand to her mouth, stopping herself from throwing up.

She sat up against the wall, breathing fast, her heart like a piston in her chest. Sweat formed on her brow, and on her hands. She gripped the crowbar tighter.

I can do this, she told herself. She placed her hands on her belly. I have to do this.

The moaning become louder and Ellie willed herself up against the crack in the door, the two infected were by Mac and Angie’s door.

“Ellie! Come on Ellie!” shouted Mac.

Ellie went to pull the door open, but froze. She couldn’t do it, her arms wouldn’t move.

She breathed deeply. She closed her eyes and thought of Ed, of the times they would never have together. And it was the virus that had done this, the virus that stood a few feet away.

“I love you, I miss you,” she whispered.

She pulled the door open slowly and stepped gently towards the two corpses battling to get into Mac’s room. She tried to ignore the trailing guts that hung and stank from the stomach of the nearest ex-man. He was going to get it first.

She raised the crowbar and, just as Mac had showed her, swung it down with all her might. Too much might.

The metal made sharp contact with the skull of the infected and she heard a crack as the bone shattered, but she lost her balance and followed the crowbar, falling against Gaz. Warm blood splattered across her face.

She screamed as Gaz spun round to face her, but he was already dead for the second time. The crowbar slipped out of her hand as the body fell, and she fell with it.

Her only thought was of her baby and she pushed her arms out to protect her belly from the fall. Her hands sank into Gaz’s stomach and became entwined in the warmth of his intestines and bowel. She slipped further forward, and her right hand squelched up further into the torso, becoming wrapped in bones and warm fleshy organs.

She landed on her side, expecting Johnny to be on her, all gnashing jaws and teeth. She pulled her hands, wrapped in intestines and other unidentified fleshy lumps, out of Gaz’s torso.

“Kill it!” Mac shouted from beyond the door.

Mac had pushed both hands through the gap in the door and gripped the skull of Johnny’s corpse. Johnny was facing Ellie, his arms reaching for her, his jaws snapping viciously.

“I can’t hold him much longer!”

Ellie pushed herself up, ignoring the pain in her back and belly and grabbed the crowbar from the floor. She gripped it tight, trying not to let it go, the sloppy blood on her hands making it hard to hold on.

She stood up straight and stared at the infected shell before her. She stared deep into its eyes and saw nothing.

“Ok Mac, let it go!”

Mac’s hands disappeared and the creature lurched forward, its arms locking around Ellie’s shoulders. It got no further.

Ellie slammed the crowbar down, deep and hard into its skull. There was satisfying crack. She closed her eyes against the spraying blood, and when she opened them again, the corpse was on the floor, dead again.

It let out one last long slow moaning breath, and then it was still. Everything was still.

“Ellie? You ok Ellie?” Mac’s head appeared at the gap in the door. She nodded. She was covered in blood and human insides. She had just smashed a crowbar into two skulls. But she nodded. She was ok.

Mac pushed the dresser out of the way and opened the door. She ran into the room, and burst into tears.

Angie and Mac both took her and hugged her, blood and guts and all.