The Undead. The First Seven Days (29 page)

At the end of my speech, they both sit back, thinking through what I have told them.
  ‘Well, we can’t do anything tonight, Debbie. But those Forts sound good - they’ll need a good Sergeant.’
  ‘And an experienced officer, Ted,’ she replies.

‘How will you get there?’ I ask them.
  ‘There’s an old riot van in the yard outside, we can put the grille down to cover the windscreen and plough through,’ Ted answers.
  ‘Sounds good, mind you - you are safe here.’
  ‘Yes… but we need to be with other people. We can get back in with the keys and the building is secure,’ the Sergeant says.
  ‘What about you?’ Ted asks.
  ‘We have to push on, we’ll join you later when I’ve found my sister. I think we should bed down for tonight and get going in the morning - when they are slow again.’
  They look at each other and nod.

Twenty minutes later, we are all seated in the canteen - PC Jenkins has joined us too.
  ‘What about Harry?’ I ask.
  ‘He’s alright, fast asleep on his bed, besides he can’t go anywhere,’ PC Jenkins replies, but looks to the Sergeant for confirmation.
  ‘He’ll be fine for a few minutes, Tom.’
  ‘Thanks, Sarge.’
  The atmosphere has changed. Ted and the Sergeant told them about the Forts and they seem charged up and happier.
  Dave brought our weapons and bags from the cellblock and is examining boxes of ammunition from the evidence room.

Tom is next to Dave, watching his every move and asking questions about the Special Forces; Dave just keeps replying that he can’t say anything, which only seems to excite Tom more.
  Ted is sitting back, chatting to the Sergeant. Steven is cooking, well… I say cooking - he is microwaving food from the prisoners’ cupboard: sealed packets of lasagne, curry and all day breakfast.
  It feels nice to be amongst normal people again.

It’s only been two days, but it feels like weeks. I sit back and watch them, smiling to myself, hopeful.
  I felt jaded and deeply forlorn after the barricade incident, but seeing these people chatting and joking, I don’t know, it just feels nice.

Later, Dave and I have prisoner mattresses and blankets brought to us; old rough things, but thick and cosy. We make beds up on the canteen floor. PC Jenkins is given the good news about keeping watch for the first night, much to his disgust - and they all leave the room; him and Steven bickering.

The door closes behind them and the room is in darkness, only a sliver of moonlight comes in through the window.
Tomorrow we go to Salisbury, find an armoured vehicle and head for London. But the ways things have been going I can only imagine what lies in store for us.

I look over at Dave, who is already asleep - we’ve been lucky so far… but how long will it last?
 
 

DAY FOUR

Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The night passed as Dave and I slept deeply. The prisoner’s mattresses are thin and worn but have been doubled up to provide greater comfort. The blankets are rough wool, but the weather is hot and cover isn’t needed for warmth, only for comfort.

  Dave has been a tower of strength to me and has saved my life countless times but I am too caught up with all that is going on to thank him properly. I was fascinated though about why he is so quiet and immodest; why he does not boast about his fighting skills and finally, one day, he opened up to me about his training. I am writing these facts here – but, of course, due to the secrecy of the Special Forces training, I am not at liberty to divulge everything that he experienced.

  I want to also state here that I am going to start writing in the
third person
sometimes – as that is the only way I can make sense of it all; it makes it feel less real that way.

  Dave told me later that he couldn’t remember much about life before the army, it was a confusing mess of memories and images; all muddled up in his mind.
  His first few weeks in the army had been the same; messy and uncoordinated. He could run and shoot and do all the things that were required of him, but his interactions with the other recruits were very difficult. They were young lads pumped up with testosterone and fuelled by the need to constantly impress and show off and they just confused him; they took the piss and made jokes.
  Then they started unarmed defence tactics and it changed everything.

The recruits were lectured about the need for unarmed combat tactics, and famous stories and accounts of weapons jamming and going hand to hand were explained to them.
  The instructors drummed into them that this wasn’t Kung-Fu or Karate and it wasn’t meant to be pretty. They said that the only way to suppress your enemy, was to use a massive display of violence. They were, after all, infantry and not ninja’s.

They were shown basic blocking techniques, then take-downs: simple strikes and moves that used the most force to cause maximum damage with the minimum of effort.
  Dave watched and learnt, he was told what to do and he did it. Being the smallest of the intake he was an obvious target and the instructors yelled at him more than the others, which only caused to isolate him more from the group. This though was normal for Dave.
  Each week they were put through the training, and drilled until they were proficient. It was physical and it was simple. Dave learnt the techniques and worked with each partner in a methodical manner; they had been told not to cause injury to each other so Dave never did. It was also drummed into them that they were brothers in arms and you never hurt or inflict injury on your own kind.
  They were put through their paces and told repeatedly that there would be an assessment at the end that they each had to pass, before they could go on to the next stage. The assessment was a new training exercise being trialled.

Some of the regiments still did
milling
; recruits were fitted with large boxing gloves and set at one another for a minute and were not allowed to stop or rest until either one of them was down or the minute ended. The milling was popular and the army were willing to trial a new method of assessing the skills they had learnt in the unarmed combat training.
  Assessment time arrived and all of the recruits were led into a gym with rubber matting on the floor. They were in PT kit and sat in a square, around the mats. The normal instructors were present, along with various army staff officers and regimental representatives who had come to see how effective the new trial was. The recruits were told that normal rules of engagement were suspended. They were to attack one another and use any and all of the skills they had been taught - for thirty seconds. The victor would stay on, until he was beaten, and they would keep going, until everyone had been assessed. They could not stop until either one of them was down or the time ran out.

If the time ran out and they were both still standing, then the senior officer present would decide who the victor was - or if they should go again.

The victor could choose who the next opponent was.
  The idea was to see if the recruits would revert to type and just whack at each other with hay makers, or if the training had been effective and they would use the skills they had learnt. The instructors and army understood that injuries were inevitable, but this was the army and men had to be trained in the most effective way possible.
  The first two recruits were selected at random and duly took their positions in the square. The bell was rung and they went for each other, some of the skills were apparent but they held back too much. The constant warning of not causing injury during training had run deep and the bout went the full thirty seconds, with both of them still standing. They were made to go again and were screamed at for not using full force. The time started up, and again they went for it, but were still holding back.

The clock was stopped and they were told clearly that each and every recruit would stay there until the bout was done to the satisfaction of the instructors; each time they held back they would lose a day’s R&R and be confined to barracks.
  This did the trick and when the fight started again the men went for it properly, battering and striking at each other; using the skills they had been taught, along with natural instinct to punch out wildly. The first man went down and the other recruit was on him, pummelling his face and body with blows, the bout ended and the victor declared. He was pumped up and ready, full of confidence at being allowed to use full force violence. He was told to choose his next opponent and started looking round at the faces.

The recruits were looking at Dave, laughing and calling out his name, eager to see the smallest guy get beaten up. The victor played to his crowd and selected Dave.
  Within seconds, they were facing each other and again both were told not to hold back. The instructor faced each of them in turn and explicitly told them to use full force.
  Dave had learnt that in the army you did as you were told.

The bout started and was over within ten seconds, with Dave’s opponent having both his arms broken in two places and a fractured skull.
  The stunned silence that followed, was only shattered by the instructor declaring Dave the victor and telling him to select his next opponent. Naturally, they didn’t know the severity of the injuries at that time or perhaps they would have ended it there.
  The next opponent was a simple decision for Dave, who just pointed to the far left. He was taught to read and write from left to right, so that was his natural instinct when choosing anyone or anything.

Again, the clock was started and this time it was over in less than ten seconds, his opponent had both knee joints dislocated.

By this time, some of the officers were looking at each other with concern and the instructors were talking to each other in hushed tones. Then the instructors deferred to the senior officer present who told them to carry on. He watched Dave intently.
  Two minutes later the assessment was ended to the great relief of the remaining recruits.
  All of the recruits that were left were transferred to other training barracks overnight, the instructors were removed from duty and the whole episode was covered up within hours.
  Those officers that were present for the assessment were each spoken to separately and offered promotion - if they signed a form, declaring they were not anywhere near the training centre on that date.
  The families of the two recruits that Dave had killed were told that their sons died during a training exercise and were compensated heavily for their losses.
  The senior officer present, who had allowed the assessment to continue, took Dave with him and the rest of his training was given by the Special Forces regiment that he represented.
  Dave was told that he must never talk about his life, or about his training - or any part of his army career.
  And Dave had learnt that, in the army, you did as you were told.

Years later, his life took another turn and he went out into civvy street, very quickly finding a niche for himself in the UK’s favourite supermarket. At
Tesco
, Dave became a loyal employee. He worked tirelessly and never gave anyone any trouble and then the fateful day came, not so long ago now… when the first infected person staggered through the supermarket’s doors.  The uniformed security man rushed forward to help the man, thinking that he was the victim of a horrific and violent assault. But he was not. He was one of the undead and he took the security man down within seconds; biting into the guard’s neck and passing the infection on.

  The infection entered the security man’s blood stream and, within minutes, he too was transformed.
  The infection needed to survive and the only way for it to do so, was to continuously find more hosts. The infection shut down all non-essential parts of the body: pain receivers, nerve endings and thought processes were shut down; the major organs functioned to an extent – remaining to complete one task - the finding of more hosts.
  The infection knew that the quickest way to do this was to bite the host and use the saliva to enter the bloodstream.

  The infection evolved and learnt to make the host drool, pouring that diseased fluid out from the mouth.
  The security man died within minutes.

  Death was quick and painless.

  The adrenalin coursing through his system masked the agony at first and then the infection took over, numbing him completely. The loss of blood was too great for the body to cope with and the heart slowed until it stopped. Then, within minutes, it started again - the infection giving life back to something that was dead, making it
undead.
  By the time the security man rose to his feet and looked about, he had an all-consuming need for human flesh.

  The first undead that had entered the supermarket went on a spree: biting and gouging people, in an orgy of blood and gore.
  Dave was at the back of the store, checking that the stock he had just filled was lined up and facing forward perfectly. There was something good about filling a shelf. It was neglected and empty before he got to it and he fixed it, made it full again and made it tidy.
  The undead staggered up the central aisle, seeking more flesh. The ones it had already bitten were no good now, the satisfaction of biting into them was gone, just the urge - the ever increasing urge.
  Dave paused, looking at his next untidy, section.