The Undead. The First Seven Days (30 page)

  The undead reached the end of the aisle and stopped to look at Dave.
  Dave gazed at the undead who then pulled his lips back, baring its teeth; the ragged flesh from its neck flapping open. Then the undead fixed its red, bloodshot eyes on Dave, charging at him.
  And Dave carried on with his work, making things tidy, cleaning up the never-ending onslaught of undead’s as they pillaged
Tesco
that night.

  For that was Dave’s job – and he took great pleasure in following orders.

_____________________________________________________________________

Monday Morning

‘Mr Howie.’
  A voice pulls me from my sleep, I can’t seem to respond though.

  ‘Mr Howie.’
  There it is again, but I can’t grasp a hold of it. The voice is near, yet far away. My sleep is heavy and I feel like I’m wading through thick liquid, trying to grasp at a lifeline that is being inched away from my hands.
  ‘Mr Howie… wake up!’
  I’m being rocked now. I’m on a boat and the waves are gently nudging the sides and making me roll.
  ‘OI! WAKE UP!’
  I open my eyes to see Dave kneeling by my side, his hand on my shoulder. Ted is standing over me, smiling down.
  ‘That did it, he’s awake now - here get this down your neck.’
  Ted hands me a steaming mug of hot liquid that smells like coffee. I sit up and take the mug. My head is fuggy and I drink the coffee in silence. It is strong and bitter and tastes like shit.

My mouth feels furry and horrible and the coffee just adds to the awful mix, but the caffeine kicks in within a few minutes and I start to feel more awake.
  ‘There’s some cleaning kit for you both, it’s the stuff the prisoners use. It’s not great, but it’ll do the job.’
  I look over and see two sets of things on a table. I raise my mug in thanks to Ted.
  ‘The shower room is just down the corridor, help yourself and grab some scoff, I’ll be back up in a bit, we’re getting ready to go downstairs.’ He turns and leaves.

Dave is sitting at one of the tables, drinking from a mug. It’s daylight now; the bright sun is already streaming through the window.
  ‘Looks like a nice day again,’ I say to Dave, who just nods quietly.
  ‘So what have we got there?’
  Dave rummages through the pile closest to us: ‘Towels, disposable toothbrush, disposable safety razor, disposable cloth and soap.’
  ‘Is the soap disposable too?’
  ‘I don’t know.’
  ‘I was joking.’
  ‘Oh.’
  I stand up slowly, stretching my weary body. Despite the solid sleep I feel exhausted. My mind is refreshed but my body has taken more punishment in the last couple of days than in the last ten years.
  ‘Oh my god, I ache from head to toe, do you?’
  ‘No.’
  I shake my head. Of course he doesn’t, the man is a machine. Maybe he is a cyborg: a secret military robot like
Robocop?
Yeah, that explains it. Dave is a robot soldier cyborg.

No, he’s just fit and I’m not.

I take one of the disposable toothbrushes, it’s sealed in a plastic bag and there is a plunger behind the bristles that pushes the paste through.
  ‘We could do with a few more of these, they look quite cool.’
  I sit down at the table, opposite Dave, and lean back in my chair; the bottom of the mug resting on my chest.
  ‘So, what’s the plan?’
  ‘Salisbury,’ Dave says and looks up at me.
  ‘You still up for it then?’

‘Yes.’
  ‘I know that I keep going on about it mate, but this is my issue. I won’t be offended if you want to go with them to the Forts.’
  ‘No, I’ll go with you.’
  ‘Ha… you know I’d get my arse chewed up within the first five minutes of being on my own.’
  ‘Yes.’
  ‘You cheeky bastard… that’s it isn’t it? You don’t think I’m capable?’
  ‘Yes.’
  His face is impassive, but that mischievous glint is back in his eye.
  ‘Well, personally, I think I’ve done all the hard work so far and it’s damn time you started pulling your own weight - I’m not going to keep carrying you.’
  ‘Okay, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Good… well I’m glad we got that straightened out. I am going for a shower.’
  He gets up to follow me, taking one of the bundles.
  ‘Dave, I think I can shower safely on my own, I won’t drown.’
  ‘Okay.’
  He keeps following me and I stare at him as he passes me.
  ‘There’s more than one shower, Mr Howie.’
  ‘How do you know?’
  ‘I checked.’
Of course he did, I bet he could describe the layout of the whole building by now and the contents of every room too.

Ten minutes later and I’m standing under a stream of hot water and it feels nice. The sharp spray is needling at my sore muscles. I remember that they said that shower time is restricted to five minutes for males, but seeing as they are all leaving today, I don’t think it will be too much of an issue if I take just a few extra minutes. I’ve brought my disposable toothbrush in with me and I’m scrubbing at my teeth, the paste went within the first few minutes but I keep brushing, until my teeth feel squeaky clean. I use the bristles of the brush to scrub at my tongue and it comes away brown from the strong coffee I just drank. The soap is shit too and barely lathers up. But then it is meant for the prisoners. It’s funny, but everyone thinks that prisoners get the best of everything: good food, good bedding and all paid for by the tax payer. But this stuff is really cheap and shitty.
  Last night was crazy, we got ourselves into a bad situation and it can’t happen again. Getting trapped like that was unacceptable. It was pure luck that we were at the back of the police station. All it would have taken is for the people inside to have been away from the door or not looking at the camera and we would have been just another couple of zombies. We have to plan ahead now, plan the route and get to somewhere safe, well before the sun sets. They are too dangerous when it gets dark. From now on we will move and fight during the day and hide at night, that’s it, no deviations. It’s already Monday and my sister will be panicking and might be thinking that no one is coming for her.

Two days of solid running and fighting seem like a week to me, so it will be far worse for her, trapped alone in her apartment, with no idea of what’s going on.

Dave has finished and is gone by the time I get out of the shower and dry myself off. I get dressed and go back to the canteen. Sergeant Hopewell, Ted and Dave are sat, talking at one of the tables. Well Sergeant Hopewell and Ted are talking, Dave is just listening.
  ‘Morning sunshine, feeling better?’ Sergeant Hopewell says to me.
  ‘Yeah, much better, thanks.’
  ‘Good, right, let’s go over the plan. According to your information, the authorities are urging people to head to the Forts… the Victorian Forts on the coast. Correct so far?’
  ‘Yes.’
  ‘Right, well we know there are lots of them but we don’t know which ones will be in use. We know that some of them have not been maintained, so they will be in a very bad state of repair, but are still possibly defensible. Correct?’
  ‘Er… yeah, I think so.’
  ‘Good, so we also know that some of them have been maintained and kept in use by historical societies, as tourist attractions. These may or may not be suitable, depending on the level of work done by the societies… correct?’
  ‘Well, yes, that makes sense… I guess.’
  ‘So… we don’t know which ones are in use, or how many there are, or if they are full or will take us. But we have an old riot van outside and, as long as we can get out of here, we have a chance of finding them – or at least trying to.’
  ‘Well, I suppose so.’
  ‘Good, right… now are you sure that you and Dave don’t want to come with us?’
  ‘I can’t come, but Dave is more than welcome to join you.’
  She looks at Dave, who just shakes his head.
  ‘I thought so, now listen, we don’t have much of a plan - except to get out of here and go and look for them. But… if all else fails - we will use this place as a fall back. If the Forts are no good, then we will come back here and wait.’
  ‘Okay, so we will try for my sister and then the Forts, if something goes wrong with that plan, we’ll aim for here too. How do we get in if you are not here?’
   ‘Hmmm… there’s only one key to the main door and we’ll be taking that with us. We can’t really leave it anywhere, because of the risk of someone else finding it. Also, we risk the place getting over run by that lot,’ She jerks her head toward the window.

Ted interrupts: ‘The building has a flat roof, if you can get on the top, then you can drop down onto the internal prisoner courtyard mesh and get in one of these windows, we’ll leave it unlocked.’
  ‘That’s great, we’ll just need a massive ladder then…’
  ‘Sorry son, that’s the best we can do… we can’t risk leaving it unlocked and letting any Tom, Dick and zombie in here, can we?’
  ‘No, I suppose not.’
  ‘Don’t worry, son.’

Ted looks at the Sergeant: ‘Okay, next we need to get out of here. That lot are blocking the gates - so we need a diversion...’
  ‘Any suggestions?’
  ‘Well… yes actually,’ the Sergeant offers. ‘The yard behind the gates keeps all of the marked vehicles - most of them were out on patrol or were taken by the lads to get away. But we have the detective’s car pool in a car park on the other side of the building… if
someone
can get to one of those cars, they could draw those things away from the gates.’
  They both lean forward, looking hopefully at Dave and I.

Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The undead horde gathered outside the metal gates, spilling out into the road and down the side of the police station. The bodies are pressed tightly together, pushing towards the last place their prey was seen.
  Hundreds of pairs of arms hang down limply, as the undead twitch around and knock into each other in the confined space.

  Hundreds of zombie heads roll back and forth, left and right. The shuffling steps are slow and cumbersome, feet dragging along the ground. Some of them lurch and spasm as they move, with their drooling saliva flinging off to coat those around it.

More have arrived during the night, drawn by the sounds and smells of their kin. The skin is starting to decay now; white people are becoming greyer and those with darker skin are becoming lighter.
  The heat bearing down on the undead flesh has increased the rate of decay and their flesh is hanging off.
  Flies and insects are drawn to the rancid stench of rotting meat and have laid eggs in the open wounds - before long they will hatch and tiny white maggots will start to consume the flesh around them. Each life form has a desire to live and will strive for survival. The flies will lay the eggs, the maggots will consume the body and the infection inside the undead bodies knows this - it knows that there is a limited lifespan on these feeble, host bodies.

The infection has already had to evolve and adapt and it is rapidly learning new ways to harness the body and find more hosts.
  During the night, an undead fell to the floor, the body was too broken to keep upright, so the infection ceased the use of its legs. The body can still see, but it can’t move and the infection knows this host body will crumble away, before long. The prone body is facing a house’s driveway.
  Within minutes, a small flap at the bottom of the front door opens and a diminutive cat walks out, sniffs the air and starts cleaning itself; its lithe body almost bent double as it reaches around to lick its behind. The cat then walks down the garden path and stops when it sees the body. With effortless grace, the cat jumps up onto the garden wall and looks down at the body.
  The infection looks through the undead’s eyes and watches the cat jump down from the wall and approach the body, making a soft noise as it gets closer. The cat has been without people for days now and although it can find food and water, it misses the rubs and strokes that people give it. The cat can lean its body against objects, but it’s not the same, so it approaches the prone body and uses the soft voice it learnt, knowing that most people will react to this pleasant noise and rub its neck.

The infection watches as the cat stretches out and licks at the open wound on the nose of the host body. The infection drives the body forward and slams the head down onto the cat. The undead’s teeth are open and ready, biting down into the feline’s fur. The cat squeals loudly and lashes out with sharp claws raking the face, then it squirms and drags itself out from under the head, bounding away a few steps, then falls over, as it realises the wound is too great. The cat licks at the ragged wound on its back a few times, then lies still. The breathing becomes laboured and time between breaths get longer, until the cat gives one last sigh and dies.

  The infection’s primary function is to survive and it must evolve more to do this.

  The infection learnt that the dead body can be brought back to a thing akin to life. The cells can be made to start the heart and move the blood around, it learnt how to make more blood quickly so that wounds and injuries don’t drain the liquid away. Then it learnt to congeal faster and seal off the arteries to those wounds and divert the precious blood away from the leak.