The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle (2 page)

“Move down the carriage, please,” one of them asked in a
loud, patronising voice. Not a single person paid attention to them, so they
gave up, swearing at the selfishness of their fellow man.

Watching this scene play out, Daniel was reminded as to why
he hadn’t wanted to return to commuting. Most people are selfish bastards, he
thought, not wanting to re-enter that mode himself. There was nothing quite
like the feeling of self-righteous indignation at the behaviour of others; he
would miss it.

Strangely, especially for London Bridge, no-one tried to
leave the train, they just stood there. The doors hissed closed once more, and
the train lurched clumsily away. The smell in the carriage was getting ripe, it
was as if something was festering in the warmth of the sun. One thing was
certain, he’d be bloody glad to get to the office.

The train juddered as if the driver had his foot on the
brake and accelerator at the same time. It was annoying as those passengers
standing nearby were stumbling against him, and making no effort to redress the
situation. Daniel’s temper was beginning to fray. On top of it all, at the
other end of the carriage, a person, he thought it was an older woman, stumbled
and collapsed to the floor. Not a single soul around her reacted, and she lay
where she fell.

“What the…” he couldn’t fathom what was going on, his pulse
was racing with welling anger. Due to the crowded state of the carriage, with
all the aisles blocked, there was no way she could be helped. At least they
only had a couple of minutes to go; his civic duty would have to wait until
they disembarked.

The train decelerated, and slowly made its way along the
final platform. Suddenly everyone was pitched forward as the front carriage
gently nudged the buffers. Few people reacted reflexively to the sudden halt,
one of them being Daniel. A scream erupted further down the carriage. Pressed
by the weight of passengers behind him, Daniel was inexorably flung forwards,
and landed on a pile of bodies, very few of whom had bothered to react to the
situation. The doors beeped as they unlocked, but no-one moved to try and leave
the train. Using all his strength, Daniel extricated himself from the gently
writhing mass and, trying not to hurt anyone, crawled over others to the exit,
where he pressed the door release button. They hissed open and he jumped off, a
few prone bodies falling to the marble floor of the platform.

Exhaling loudly, he realised he had been holding his breath,
the stench in the carriage having become overpowering. In such close proximity
to his fellow travellers, it dawned on him that the smell emanated from their
skin, which, he had also noticed during the huddle, was cooler than he would
have expected. A few of the people in his compartment slowly turned their heads
to look at him, registering no emotion. Everyone’s skin was ashen, it didn’t
matter their ethnicity, it was noticeable that they were all beginning to look
the same; cadaverous.

Shivering involuntarily, he looked down the platform. Only
one other set of doors had opened, although the yellow unlock light was lit on
all the carriages. A suited man jumped from the carriage ahead of him and ran
for the gates. Deciding prudence was the better part of valour in this
instance, Daniel, too, ran down the platform, hoping to find some staff that
could help the passengers. Passing down the train, he looked into each
successive carriage and noticed a few people had finally stood up, recovered
from the sudden stop. Several appeared to have bloody noses, but Daniel put
that down to the accident. It was the only thing that made sense, surely.

Arriving at the exit gates, there was almost no-one to be
seen, certainly no staff. His footsteps echoed eerily in the empty hall. First
day back in the office after the Christmas break, there should have been queues
of commuters exiting the ticket barriers, hurrying to make their way out of the
station to their offices, where coffees and conversation waited. What the
hell’s going on, he asked himself. At least there was no-one to receive the
penalty fare.

“Sod this, I’m out of here,” he told himself. Vaulting over
the passenger barriers, and hearing no shouted objections, Daniel began jogging
down the steps, and rushed out into the street. Thank God for dress down
offices; it meant decent running shoes could be worn, instead of the blue suit
and black leather Oxfords normally expected of a man of his seniority. A
sneaking feeling crept up on him that he would need good running shoes today.

Outside the station, along the length of the main road,
large groups of commuters were milling aimlessly, with no apparent sense of
purpose. In a state of near panic now, he ran to the office, dodging people as
he went. It wasn’t very far along the main road before his building finally
came into view. Crossing the road, he sprinted to the front doors and burst
through them, grateful to have arrived at last.

“Safe,” he told himself.

Skidding to a halt in the foyer of the building, Daniel
mentally regrouped, and walked over to the reception desk. The lass sitting
behind it was a pretty young girl. She looked like the sort that would care
more for her nails than the job she was hired to do, and would only help if it
didn’t impact her busy social schedule. Not today, the poor thing looked like
death warmed up; her hair dishevelled like a bad wig, her face was the colour
of cigarette ash, and her eyes were bloodshot with dark rings below them,
accentuating their large, doe-like appearance. The overall impression was that
of an evil Betty Boop. He had seen the symptoms before, about a thousand times
before in fact, and all just this morning. Her stare was vacant; he couldn’t be
sure it wasn’t always like that, so paying little attention to her gaze, he
tried to engage her in conversation.

“Hello. Hello? Are you okay? You don’t look very well.” No
response. “Hello.” He waved his hand in front of her; her eyes began to follow
it as he moved it back and forth. Thinking he was getting her attention, he
withdrew it again, not wanting to appear too rude. She returned to vacant mode.
“Bloody hell,” he said, and tried one last parting comment, speaking slowly so
she might understand, “I’m going up to my office. Thanks for your help.”
Nothing.

Giving up, he walked to the lifts and pressed the up button.
The Perspex index board hanging on the wall showed that his company resided on
the third floor. Good, didn’t need her assistance after all. A small bell rang,
and the lift door in front of him opened. It revealed a man standing in the
middle of the mirrored chamber, just staring unblinkingly forward.

“Excuse me, are you getting out?” Daniel asked him. Blank
stare, ashen face. He sighed, “another one, damn. Right, I’m taking the
stairs,” he said, talking to himself once again. Be damned if I’m ending up
trapped in a confined space with this guy, Daniel thought to himself.

The stairs were to the right of the lift column, so he began
trudging up the six flights to his floor. En route, Daniel called Janet on his
mobile phone. She picked up on the fourth ring, by which time he was getting
anxious.

“Hello?” her voice came over the earpiece, much to his
relief.

“Hi, love. I’m sure glad to hear your voice.”

“Are you alright?” she asked, concern edging into her tone.

“I’m okay. It’s everyone else I’m worried about. Something’s
wrong.”

“What? Listen, I’m just about to go around to the library. I
won’t be long. Was your train journey okay for a first day?” She wasn’t
listening, or couldn’t hear what he said. Bloody mobile phones, he thought,
such a high expectation of cellular technology, and as always, so little
delivered.

“Listen to me, something’s wrong today. There’s …” The phone
line crackled in his ear.

“Sorry Danny, I can’t hear you. The signal is crap. Look, I
won’t be long, an hour at most. I’ll take my mobile in case you need to get in
touch. Love you.” The line went dead.

“Fuck,” he said, trying to redial. An engaged signal greeted
him. “Shit.”

He ran the last three flights, and came to the entrance
door. It was slightly ajar. It should have been locked, accessed only by key
card. Feeling rather more nervous than could be explained, he gingerly pushed
at the door, opening it just enough to get into the reception area.

“Hey, Danny. Welcome!” Daniel jumped at the voice coming
from behind him. It was Rob, his American associate, and friend.

“Jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Daniel replied,
gasping as he fell against the reception desk.

“What’s up?” Rob was always an upbeat, relaxed kind of guy,
perhaps a little too much waist-height padding, but typical for most IT systems
workers. He compensated for all that time in front of a computer screen by
using the gym every day, and was surprisingly fit in spite of his daytime
immobility. He had a small beard, and his hair was thinning on top. Daniel
liked to rib him about it, professing that his hair had slipped down his face.
This was never said within hitting distance, though; Rob was quite a bit
bigger.

“There’s some weird stuff going on out there. I can’t
explain it.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been here for a couple of days and
last night, sorting out the servers, ready for business.”

“You didn’t do anything for New Year’s? Bloody hell, that’s
dedication.” Rob just smiled, calculating the overtime he’d made while his
friend was getting pissed, along with ninety nine per cent of the world.

“Maybe you did the right thing, in the end,” Daniel acceded,
“whatever’s going on out there, it’s giving me the creeps. Have you seen the
receptionist downstairs?”

“No. When I got here the desk was empty. I used my key to
get in,” he said, holding up a plastic magnetic card.

“Is there anyone else in yet?”

“I think I heard someone a little while ago. Let’s go see.”

Daniel was grateful to have Rob’s company as they walked the
length of the corridor, looking in each office as they passed it. They saw no-one.

“Strange, I could have sworn I’d heard someone.” Rob said,
looking bemused.

“I noticed the front door was open a bit when I arrived.
Perhaps whoever it was went out again?” Daniel offered, hopefully. Somehow he
didn’t want anyone else to be there. He had the distinct impression that he and
Rob were two of the few normal people around right now.

At that moment, they heard a cistern flush. The sound came
from the women’s lavatory. They both turned to face the door, Daniel’s
nervousness passing to Rob; fear and yawning both being highly infectious to
humans. They waited, holding their breath. They could hear clumsy footsteps.
Whoever it was sounded like they were struggling, trying to walk. A thump
reverberated against the door, making the two jump backwards; it sounded as if
the person had fallen against it in an effort to stand upright.

Slowly the door began to open. It was Marilyn, the office
administrator. Rob and Daniel let out a collective sigh of relief - and then
looked again. Rob’s jaw fell open; this was his first encounter with one of the
sick today. For Daniel, his stomach lurched; he had thought he was safe in the
office.

Poor Marilyn, she looked dreadful; pretty much the same as
the rest of those unfortunate souls Daniel had seen so far, except there was a
spark of recognition in her eyes when she saw her colleagues. As she smiled,
drunkenly so it seemed, her dry, cracked lips stuck to her teeth, her vivid
scarlet lipstick smudged all around her mouth, as if it had been put on from
the other side of the room.

“Hi, guys,” she gurgled, and then coughed. Her throat
appeared partially blocked, her ability to speak was almost gone. The coughing
spasm continued, racking her body until the two men winced at the sound; it had
to be painful. Suddenly, blood gushed from her mouth, a glistening pool
collecting at her feet. It was an
omnium
gatherum
of strange viscous red and green fluid, a bizarre
mixture of blood, bile and thick, stringy green saliva.

“Bloody hell,” Daniel exclaimed. “Let’s get you sitting down,
quickly.” He put a hand under her left arm and Rob stood to the right, holding
her from the other side. Gently they half-dragged, half-carried her
semi-conscious form to the nearest office, and helped her into a chair near the
door.

“Can you get her some water, Rob? You know where all the
facilities are.”

“Sure thing,” Rob said and left the room, somewhat grateful
to be away from the appalling sight of the woman. Blood and drool had begun to
stream down her front, her white silk blouse taking on an unfashionable
emergency room look.

She was trying to talk, but nothing other than a slight hiss
and some gurgling could be heard.

“Don’t try to speak,” Daniel said gently, trying to stop her
from exerting her lungs. Marilyn was fading fast, her eyelids drooping now, and
head nodding as the last vestiges of muscular control were lost. With a final
death rattle, she sighed her last and her body went slack. Daniel caught her as
she slumped down in her seat, and laid her gently on the ground next to the
chair.

Rob dashed back into the room and came up short, seeing the
girl lying on the floor.

“Damn, she’s gone. Isn’t she.” A statement, not a question.
Daniel just nodded, too shocked to react properly.

Looking up at last, he spoke. “We have to get out of here.
Something is seriously wrong, and whatever the hell it is, I don’t want to die
in the fucking office.”

“But if it’s outside, what are we going to do? Where will we
go?” Rob was still uncertain, he had no idea what was going on. Going outside
seemed to be the more risky option.

“I have to get back to Jan, now. She’s in danger. She’s at
the bloody library.” Daniel was panicking a little, the distance between him
and his wife suddenly appearing insurmountable.

“Surely the librarians aren’t that dangerous?” Rob quipped,
trying to stop his friend from freaking out. He still had not comprehended the
depth of their dilemma.

“What? Oh, yeah. Good joke.”

“Sorry, man. Inappropriate, I guess. Have you seen more of
this shit out there? Are there more people sick like this outside?” Rob asked,
trying to understand what was stressing out his buddy.

“Not like this, no. But everyone seems to be coming down
with something. Janet was ill this morning, we both assumed it was a cold. I’ve
got a cold, too. At least I hope it’s a cold. Is there a window here that looks
out over Cannon Street? See what’s going on.”

“Yeah, follow me. I’ll show you.” They ran from the room,
Rob leading the way. There was a panoramic window on the other side of
reception and the view, on any other day, would have been amazingly beautiful.

Today, however, it looked like a scene from Bedlam; crowds
of people milling around, some running and screaming. A few looked like they
were actually being chased down by gangs, who moved like packs of wild animals,
determined to bring down their prey. “Looters,” Daniel mumbled, still
unconvinced. As he watched them in action, he knew it had nothing to do with
stealing possessions. Perhaps this was a case of a different sort of
possession; the people with this illness, for want of a better word, certainly
behaved like something not of this world. How could a virus or bacteria really
be responsible? Sick people were traditionally bed-bound, not running around in
howling packs, tearing people apart.

“Do you think this is widespread?” Rob asked, not really
expecting an answer. As if in response to his question, a huge explosion
erupted on the south side of the Thames, the percussion of it shaking the
window in front of them. A massive fireball hurled itself into the sky, leaving
a smoky trail, so that it resembled the mushroom cloud of a small nuclear
detonation.

“Bugger me!” Daniel said, voice fading as he watched the
incandescent ball of smoke and flame curl into the morning sky.

“Let’s turn the telly on, see if the news is covering any of
this. Someone has to know what’s going on.”

“Good idea,” Daniel agreed. They walked back to the
reception area, where a sixty inch plasma screen had been hung to amuse waiting
visitors. Turning it on, it was already tuned to Sky News, where they saw a
talking head expounding on the latest problems in the world, views of London
behind him. The volume came up, and at last they could hear what he was saying.

‘Scenes like this are
being seen all over the world. Emergency services are stretched to the limit, and
hastily convened calls are going on, as I speak, between the UK Prime Minister
and the President of the United States as well as with the leaders of other
countries. No-one has yet been able to give a definitive answer to the question
on everyone’s lips, ‘what’s going on?’’

In the background, the camera switched from London to New
York, where another reporter took up the story.

‘Although the scenes
are frightening and there appear to be a large number of injuries, at the
moment the problems appear to be limited to a relatively small area in the USA,
mostly New York and some of the eastern seaboard.’

The picture switched to Mumbai, where a similar scene was
unfolding, except thousands of people were on the street brawling, blood was
everywhere. The lads had never seen so much blood from so many people, their
facial expressions ranging from terrified to vicious, even jubilant. Daniel
looked away, his stomach turning at the sight.

Rob switched the volume to mute. “I have to call Sandra, see
if she’s okay.”

“Sure, Rob, that’s a good idea. I’m sure she’s fine though,”
Daniel said, trying to be reassuring to his friend. “This appears to be
happening a long way from Colorado.”

“Problem is, we’ve just moved. We don’t know any of the
neighbours yet, and her parents aren’t even close by anymore. So without me …”
he left the sentence unfinished.

“Yeah, I get it,” Daniel agreed. “We’ve
gotta
leave this place before it gets too bad out there, but do make that call. I
don’t want you wondering if she’s okay all the way back to my place. We’ll
check again when we get there.”

Rob picked up the reception phone and dialled home. A look
of happiness replaced his frown as his wife picked up the receiver at the other
end.

“Hi, babe. It’s me. I just wanted to call you, make sure
you’re okay. I know it’s gone one in the morning. I guess you haven’t heard
yet. When I hang up, turn on the TV. Something
weird’s
going on here and in New York. No-one can explain it,” he paused, listening,
“yep. Will you stay at home and not go to work? Please? Thanks, love. I’m in
the office. I’m going with Danny to his place. If I think it is getting worse,
I’ll try and get a flight home, before they close the airports. Yep, I promise
I’ll be careful, okay. Love you. Call you later. Bye, bye.” He hung up and
looked at Daniel. “Right. Let’s get going.”