The Infected (22 page)

I indicated for some reason and turned right into the road. Apart from a white Lexus or some other big sedan with all its doors open, the road was dead. Well, empty. Maybe dead is not the best word to use. Then a song started which made me quickly press ‘next’ – it was called Ready To Die and I certainly wasn’t. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a scene of silent chaos behind me – as if someone had painted a war scene – this was as still and as quiet as a painting which made it terribly eerie. I had actually forgotten about that horrible night when the military or the navy or whatever the hell they were tried to intervene… and didn’t. I can still remember the screams and waiting for the sirens to eventually die. That wasn’t fun… I didn’t want to look for too long as I didn’t like the way it made me feel, but I could see some overturned cars, two or three or those army trucks (you know, the ones you see in movies with all the soldiers in the back) and what looked like it may have been a tank. The whole scene – just a couple of hundred metres from where I had been holed up for months – was just too desolate and peculiar for words.

I changed into third, put my foot down and swerved past the sedan without looking back – this car had incredible handling. I drove past the vacant security boom, in the past manned by two guards, and waved at their empty seats in their honour. I reached Palliser, one of the main roads in Edenglen, and got my first glimpse of two of the infected since I had left the safety of the complex, making sure that I had closed the gate behind me. I checked twice. They were down the road to the left, and I was turning right, so I wasn’t too worried about them – they were too far away anyways to even tell what sex they were.

I had noticed a steady decline in the numbers outside my kitchen window over the past few weeks, and sometimes I would sit there for half an hour or so and see maybe just two or three of them. The signs were good for this outing. I turned right into Palliser, accelerated for what felt like a metre and took the first left into Main Road. From there I could see the shops, a corner Spar just down the road. I could see a group of about six or seven of the infected milling around the street, and as soon as they saw the moving car they started heading my way. I waited for them, the car running and the petrol needle on full (it had only done just over six thousand kilometres by the way). “Hurry the fuck up!” I shouted over Andrew WK’s shouting. My intention was to lead them away by turning up the road running parallel to the Spar, then turning left and then left again to find myself in front of the entrance. Hopefully, they would just follow in the direction of the car which would give me enough time to get what I needed and get out.

Eventually, after bloody ages, they were close enough so I turned up the road – they followed. Most of the infected these days were naked or near naked, their clothes falling off of them as they scrounged for food I suppose. It was quite a warm day today, and still classed as autumn, but the two women in the group (there were in fact eight of them in total) had nipple stands. Men notice these things…

Once I had turned into the street I waited until they were in touching distance, and one of them actually did touch the car – a young man with a clump of bloodied skin where his right ear should have been actually grabbed hold of the rear spoiler. And then I shot up the road, One Ear taking a tumble. It worked though because I could see them coming slowly after me. I reached 137km before taking the first left, almost losing control as I braked and turned. I was more conservative on the next stretch of road though (I only got to just over a hundred) and turned left again – at the end of that road was the Spar. I pulled up right in front of the doors, grabbed the bags, got out the car which I left running, and put a pistol in each of my front jean pockets. The road was empty, and hopefully so was the Spar.

I went to the front entrance and tried the sliding door – it opened first time. I grabbed a pistol, slid in and closed the door behind me. I looked around and couldn’t believe what I saw… absolutely nothing. Shit, I had forgotten to bring a torch. It was pitch black and I couldn’t see a damn thing. I’d have to go back and fetch a torch… bummer.

So I got back to the car – no sign of the infected by the way – floored it back home, went inside (closed the gate of the complex) and fetched a torch and some batteries. As I was leaving I remembered some dodgy light/Alice band thing that Lil had once left at my house – basically a head light which goes on your forehead. Lil had used it during her early days of game ranging when she had to double check the map at night. I dug around in the spare room cupboard and found it – it would be ideal. I went back out and drove back to the shops. When I got there I did a loop around the block to try and find the infected, and sure enough, there they were, turning the last corner to head towards the shop, so I sped up to them, slammed on brakes, did a three point turn and headed back to the shops in the opposite direction. Judging by how long they took to get to where they were, I’d have about twenty minutes of ‘alone’ time.

I pulled up outside the shop, again, and this time set my watch alarm to go off in seventeen minutes – better safe than sorry. I slid through the door again, closed it and turned on both my head lamp and my torch. This time I could see that I wasn’t the only one that had had this idea… it looked as if the shop had been ransacked in a riot. Wherever I shone my torch there was stock on the floor, the yellow beam picking up everything from overturned flower pots with the dead flowers spread on the floor and a lone pink teddy bear on top of an empty sack of potatoes to the last issues ever printed of magazines splayed across the floor.

A seriously nauseating smell was emanating from the frozen foods section – I would not be heading that way – forget it. I took a step forward and felt something oozing out from under my shoe – for a while I was too scared to look, but when I eventually did I saw what looked like a rotting avocado enveloping my black Puma’s. Just great. I scraped what I could off the bottom of my shoe against an upturned Eveready battery stand… and that triggered my memory. I scanned the surrounding area with my headlamp and picked up between a dozen and half a dozen battery packs of various sizes.

I leapt over the cigarette counter and grabbed what was left of the cigarettes (I was really getting into this smoking habit and was getting quite good at it) – not many were left though, just all the cheapo brands – but in these times, stealers can’t be choosers. As I stood up after bending down to pick up the last box of Royals or some other dodgy brand like that, the beam from my headlamp pierced the eerie darkness and fell on the open cash register in front of me – it was full of R200, R100 and R50 notes, all untouched. Weird hey? Months ago, people, well, some people, would have happily taken all the cash in that unguarded register, but now, apart from use as toilet paper (I had already spotted a stack that I would be taking myself), money was useless. An odd concept.

I left the cigarette counter and stepped slowly, and carefully, through the darkness. It was dead quiet, apart from my steps and the odd bird above scratching its claws on the corrugated iron roof, adding to the eeriness of the place. But when the birds stopped, or flew off, the silence was stifling, all around, and… dangerous. I had to make this quick.

I grabbed some still bottled water that had more than likely been knocked to the ground when the other ‘vandals’ before me had cleared the fridges – I found seven of them. Then got a couple of powdered cool drink sachets too – great to flavour the water and good for energy too. I filled my bags with whatever I thought could be of use – basically whatever was left behind. I got more spices, some cutlery (who knows, might need it somewhere along the line?), plenty of sweets, some more seeds to plant (couldn’t really see exactly what in the dim light), picked up some of the magazines on the floor as I am short of reading material and plenty or crackers, pretzels and chips (I wondered why these were left behind when almost everything else had been taken, but it was because that aisle was the closest to the pungent frozen food section – yes, I know what I had said, but Big Korn Bites far outweighed a minute of gagging). But yes, that smell was seriously bad and I had to wash my hair a couple of times to just get rid of it.

I tried the next aisle, but apart from a spilled bottle half full of dishwashing liquid and some dish clothes, there was not much else worth squeezing into my bags. As I turned around my left foot struck something of quite substantial weight which was sticking out from under the shelving. As I bent down to have a closer look, the beams from my torch and headlamp, sparkling in the dust kicked up from my movements, I heard a loud, shrill sound. I almost shat myself, and as Lil had also said in one of her recent emails, only now do I truly understand that phrase – it was like my sphincter just forgot what it was supposed to do, and I am sure that if I had needed to go I would have soiled my pants. I dropped to the floor, stirring more dust, and tried to calm down. I remember watching a programme a few years ago on what to do in an emergency, and out of the deepest recesses of my brain I recalled the acronym R.A.P.A: relax, assess, plan and act. I took in three deep breaths as quickly as I could and tried to assess the situation.

This is what I got: I was lying in a dark, deserted shop, probably devoid of human life for a few months, in a few millimetres of dust, with a pistol in each hand and a nail gun in a my bag next to me. Outside, it was pretty hot – just past 12pm on a Highveld day towards the end of winter. Also outside were a few, or hundreds, maybe thousands, possibly millions and in all likelihood, billions of bloodthirsty, zombie-like creatures. And then there was that shrill, piercing noise, the one that had resulted in me analysing my life in those short seconds. And it was coming from inside the shop…

Actually, it was coming from my left. And it was right near me. On me, even… my fucking watch! I had forgotten about that… I breathed a sigh of relief and put my head down on the cold tiles, not worrying about the dust, and pressed the snooze button. I blew out hard and saw the dust parting from the tiles in a sort of ‘V’ from my face. Then I cottoned on to why I had set the alarm in the first place. Fuck!

I grabbed my bags and headed for the door, and in my rush lost grip of the torch. It fell to the ground with a thump followed quickly by the smashing of glass as the light went out. Oh well, at least it had served its purpose for a while. I got to the door, lugging the bags behind and feeling the cold steel of the pistols against my skin under my shirt as the handles stuck out of my jean pockets. Shit – I forgot the toilet paper. I ran and got a few bags before turning towards the door again. I slid it open silently and the heat and the glare hit me hard. I was blinded for a while, and although I knew I shouldn’t, I let myself enjoy the fresh air and sense of sun on my face. I slowly opened my eyes and they adjusted to the light. The sound of the R8’s engine purring was all that I could hear. Well, at least before I listened properly. I could hear grunting too, and quite a bit of it. I turned my head to the right, the direction where I expected the infected to be coming from, and sure enough, there they were, not the eight that I had seen before, maybe double or even triple that – it was hard to tell as I was experiencing a bit of a dizzy spell brought on by the heat and the intense sunlight after so long in darkness – and they were close, less than a hundred metres away.

But as I was looking at them, I could swear that I could hear them grunting louder, but from behind me. I turned and almost screamed – another group of the infected were headed towards me too, but these ones were closer and there were more of them in that group. Without giving it much thought, I grabbed my bags and threw them into the open door and onto the back seat of the Audi, followed closely by the toilet rolls. The grunting gave way to a snarling sound which I had not heard before, so I shot at them. Maybe it would make them stop I thought. Short answer: it didn’t, I don’t even think I hit anything. I climbed into the driver’s seat and steadied my right arm against the open window. This time I did get one of them, a guy with a moustache who reminded me of Earl from My Name Is Earl. Buddy…sorry, but Your Name Is Dead

They were close now, way too close for comfort, so I floored the accelerator and sped past them, leaving the two groups to congregate in the middle of the street before beginning their vain trek again after my car. I took a risk, without really thinking about it again (I really was operating on auto-pilot) and turned away from my home. I wanted to lead them in the opposite direction, so took a really long way around – I could have run into a dead end of cars, another maybe bigger and fiercer group of the infected, anything… But I didn’t. It was a gamble that paid off, and apart from two lone guys, both naked, both bloody, I had no problems apart from the odd stranded car. I got back, opened the gate to the complex and surveyed the surroundings before parking the car under cover. I carried the bags up, went back for the toilet paper and locked myself safely in my house. Fuck me, that was exhausting!

I have only now returned almost to normal, the heart rate still up a bit, but that’s to be expected after my first venture into the outside wild world for such a long time. I am going to sleep like a baby crossed with a log tonight. I hope you guys do too.

Take care

Sam W

8:33am, August 26

“They’re in Samuel. Love you always, Mom.”

That is the SMS which woke me up just after 3am this morning. I woke up to the vibration next to my face and the bright light of my cellphone’s screen. I knew immediately that it would not be good news.

I read the short message countless times and cried, harder than I think I ever have. I dialed my mom’s number and got what I expected, her voicemail. I left her a quick message letting her know that I loved her and that I would see her again, although I know that she probably never got to listen to it. I found the other numbers of the people she was staying with, yet all of them were either dead or went to voicemail too.

I couldn’t sleep so took a blanket and went and sat out on my balcony, stared up at the night sky, shivered in the late winter cold and thought about my mom, cried, remembered how much she loved me, cried, thought about how I should have told her more how much I loved and appreciated everything that she had done for me, cried… I woke up when the sun came up, my head squashing an onion or two in my veggie garden where I had obviously collapsed and slept.

Mom, you’ll not see this, but please know that I could not have wished for someone better than you. Say hi to dad for me.

Love,

Samuel

1:13pm, August 28

Hi all. Still missing my mom. Hard to take now that I am alone, the last surviving Ward. I never did ask my parents, but I wonder why I was an only child?

But let me change the topic quick – I heard from my mate Chris again, and Chris is in a pickle again… but I won’t write him off – he’s like one of those baddies in the movies… whenever you think they’re dead they keep coming back!

From:
Chris
Sent:
28 August 2011 10:12 AM
To:
Sam Ward
Subject:
Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!

Brother! Guess where the fuck I am? Umhlanga bru! It’s awesome, much hotter here than where you are! The good news? The last few days I have been going for a swim everyday in the sea! The bad news, you ask? Um… I am now trapped at the top of the Umhlanga lighthouse. How the fuck do I always get myself in these situations?

Long story to short story – I found a pristine Landrover in Linksfield, and ruined it by driving like a chop all the way to Durban on the side of the road, through (and I mean through) rivers, pile ups, whatever got in my fucking way. It was a crap five days, but I got here, and boy was the sea worth it. Killed a lot of the little zombie shits here – but I thought I was safe until one woke me up this morning in my ‘bedroom’ at the top of the lighthouse. I kicked his fucking ass all the way back down the stairs, but there are a ton more waiting below me now. Fuck it! And it was all going so well…

I found a Blackberry in the bottlestore down here – the hotels are also ace places to ‘shop’ for stuff (just a bit arse tightening frightening when opening up each door) and I was living like a fucking king! A swim everyday, a lighthouse as a fucking home! I was happy Sam, but now those zombie fucks have ruined it.

I have a plan or two or three (one involves jumping from the lighthouse at sunset) but I doubt I could kill myself – a shit way to go my brother. But we will see…

The Shitberrys battery doesn’t last long, does it? It’s basically done. But hey, maybe I’ll chat to you again, maybe I won’t.

Stay strong Sammy boy!

Chris

Bloody hell? He does know how to find trouble, doesn’t he? I mailed him back, but it bounced – I wanted to know why he ended up in Durban when the plan was to go to Bloem, but knowing Chris, it was just for “shits and giggles.”

Man, I hope he makes it out of this one alive.

Sam

9:02am, August 29

I have just had a long, hard cry… I was going through my morning routine, as I do every single morning, when I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. Apart from the dried toothpaste on the corner of my bottom lip it was the same face that I had seen yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Or was it?

My hair, now grown over my ears, a far cry from the days I used to gel it up into a mini-Mohawk, is tatty and the ends are split. I don’t wash it often these days – there is no reason too and I am conserving my shampoo – but I used to wash it daily. I don’t shave often either, so I have a two week old mustache and beard (which isn’t as bad as it sounds, as I was lucky enough in my old life that my facial hair didn’t sprout as quickly as other guys, much like my Dad… sorry, had to stop typing for a while there for obvious reasons… but um, yeah, so I only really had to shave once a week back then. But it’s patchy and there are blotchy areas of red skin around my chin that are itchy and unsightly. My nose hair is visible. I am sure that I have wrinkles on my forehead which weren’t there a few months ago. My eyes, and I don’t know if I am imagining this or not, seem to have got darker – they used to be a vibrant blue, my best feature in my humble opinion, but now they seem… grey? A blue/grey mixture. I look old. It’s like I have aged maybe ten years in the last three months. I looked into the mirror at this stranger standing there and watched him cry. It was an absolutely awful start to the day.

Sam

3:15pm, September 1

Happy Spring Day all you bloggers, bloggees and bloggettes! A much sunnier outlook for me after my last post, but as per normal, today, the day set to mark the first day of Spring and the onset of warm weather is, excuse my French, fucking cold! I have two pairs of socks on, that’s how cold it is (the dirtier ones on the inside).

After my down day a couple of days ago, I made a vow – and I don’t know how easy it will be to keep, but I’ll try – that I will not be depressed again. Think of it… there is no point. Why be depressed? I’d only be making the worst out of a bad situation, and what situation could be worse than this? So… no more depression… it could lead down only one road… suicide, and I ain’t going to go out like that. I’d rather die fighting my way through a zillion of those things to try and get to Lil than take the easy way out!

Be strong people!

Sam

7:26am, September 2

Holy crap, I just woke up to the sound of rain. Maybe this is it? It’s raining and there are none of the infected in the street!

Sam

7:44am, September 2

False alarm… it’s over, the sun is out and what little rain did fall seems to have dried up already. Got a bit excited there! Oh well…

Take care

Sam

4:56pm, September 5

Good afternoon to all of you out there – hope that life is treating you well? I’m okay. Content with things… It’s amazing what weather does for your outlook, isn’t it? That’s why I could never live in Europe – I couldn’t handle those winters and those bleak, grey days full of rain that is so small even calling it drizzle seems wrong. No, I love the sun, and the days are definitely getting longer and warmer. In fact, today was the first time that I have been able to wear shorts all day (and man, are my legs white). I lay on the balcony for a while, nibbling on freshly picked produce from my veggie garden next to me, and I actually had to go inside because it was too hot. That’s the way I like it.

Well I heard from Lil again yesterday – it had been almost two weeks so I was starting to get worried – but they’re all okay and getting closer to Bloemfontein. Here’s what she had to say:

From:
Lourens Stadler
Sent:
4 September 2011 06:23am
To:
Sam Ward
Subject:
Hello baby BAYBEE!

Hi my amazing boyfriend! How are you keeping? So sorry for not keeping in touch more but it’s been a long and tiring journey so far! And although that 3G card that I found is working like a dream, the laptop hasn’t been… But I found a brand new one in a shop yesterday morning which we searched through, and will, I promise solemnly, keep in touch everyday now!

We are now in Maseru – yes, that’s in Lesotho! But I’ll tell you how we ended up here... We are now only maybe 100 kilometres away from Bloemfontein and possibly the end of this horrible road trip – so exciting!!!

It has been awful getting to where we are Sammie – not really because of them, the unhumans, they are too slow anyways to pose much of a threat if we are in the cars, but the roads are just appalling. If it’s not wrecked cars, abandoned cars or burned out cars blocking the road, its them, in their hundreds, maybe thousands – I don’t know what they are doing Sammie – they are walking, maybe chasing after other cars or conveys in their really slow way? So when we come across a blockage, either of the car sort or the unhuman sort, we have to turn around and try find another route, and in these back country roads, that sometimes means a detour of a day or two. Not much fun when petrol is sacred (we turn off Derek’s Touareg and our bus and freewheel downhill whenever we can just to try and save as much petrol as we can).

We have found that every petrol station that we stop at is drained and looted (doesn’t stop us from stopping and trying anyway – that’s when the coast is clear, that is) but we now know that the best way to go about refueling is to siphon fuel from the abandoned cars which can be found all over the place – again, most of the time they are empty, either already siphoned or maybe run out of petrol – but that doesn’t stop us looking just in case. This takes up a substantial chunk of our time. We have also managed to find clothes, blankets, reading material and sometimes food and drink which has yet to go bad in these cars. So it’s tiring Sammie – when we are not retracing our steps (or tracks for that matter) we are stopping every few hundred metres to check for petrol, diesel or supplies. It’s frustrating, tiring, boring, but we gotta do it I suppose. This is our life…

Sorry Sammie – I broke down for a while there – I am just missing you so fucking much and I hate the way things have turned out, absolutely fucking hate it. It’s very sad Sammie, but I know that I will see you again and that is what I am clinging to and what gets me through each horrible day.

Okay, girly cry over – sorry about that (and the swearing). It is early morning now as I type and I don’t want to wake anyone else up too early because I am having a hissy fit over the situation – it’s not fair, everyone is going through the same thing. It’s just… well Lourens, Sandra, Corne and the kids have each other and Derek is a loner and has been for years so he is okay, but me… oh crap, more tears... Sorry Sam – I want to be strong but I can’t always keep it up. Don’t you worry about me though, you have enough to worry about as it is. I am okay and will be okay until I see your beautiful face again! Then I’ll be complete.

Let me carry on… We have come into contact with quite a few of the unhumans lately (mostly in contact with Derek’s bull bar though!) But we have had a few pretty near to us when we have stopped for supplies or fuel and had to shoot them, but apart from that horrible, hungry, demented look in their eyes, we are basically treating them the way we used to treat those pestering hyenas back at the game reserve – with disdain and contempt. They are just annoying – deadly – but annoying.

We have also encountered a few other groups on the road, all corroborating our Bloemfontein story and all headed in the same direction – sometimes they warn us about obstacles up ahead and save us a few hours. It’s just a pity that the bus isn’t 4x4! That would be great – space, comfort and off-road ability!