The Undead. The First Seven Days (34 page)

Dave continues his routine and watches as they fall.
  For the first few minutes, I watch intently for any signs of different behaviour from them, but there’s nothing new.
  I hear some of them groaning and they almost sound disappointed when they miss him. I start smiling at the absurdity of it; Dave baiting them and waiting for them to surge at him, then jumping back and watching them stumble. It’s like an old comedy programme and I start chuckling.

Then Dave positions himself, so he has two undead coming at him, one from the front and one from behind. He turns so he can see both of them and waits until the very last second as they both lunge at him with their upper bodies. Dave simply steps back and they head butt each other with a loud thump, fall to the ground and get tangled in each other’s arms and legs.

I burst out laughing and watch as Dave moves round, so that another one can come for him, but he smartly gets out of the way and the undead trips on the two bodies and lands on top of them.

I’m almost pissing myself now; I can’t stop laughing at Dave making the zombies fall into the pile.   

Within a couple of minutes, all but one are tangled in a heap on the floor; groaning with frustration as they each try to get up and keep knocking each other down.
  The remaining undead slowly inches towards Dave, who moves backwards and steps over a pair of legs sticking out of the heap. The undead trips and falls into them and I’m out of the car applauding Dave and laughing loudly.
  ‘Bloody well done, mate, that was brilliant.’
  Dave turns and looks at me and does something I have very rarely seen him do. He smiles.

We leave the tangled heap of undead and keep driving, heading west, towards Salisbury. The atmosphere between us is nice and relaxed. Seeing Dave smile like that was heart warming, he is so serious all of the time and to see him play a joke and have fun reassures me that he is human and not a cyborg soldier, killing machine.

  It’s still early and the day is stretched out in front of us. The road we are on, takes us into another village; a few houses either side pass us by, then more houses - until there are buildings on both sides. The road signs indicate a lower speed limit and there are warning signs for children and the elderly, then another one saying: ‘
Please Drive Carefully Through Our Village’
.

  Rural England is sleepy and pretty but full of more rules and laws than cities:  Don’t park here. Use the litter bins. No skateboarding. No cycling. Stick to the footpath only. No ball games…

  I love the countryside and these small places, but they are more like communist settlements than idyllic havens.
  ‘There they are Dave, all mustering in the village square, I wonder why they always stick together like that?’
  ‘Safety in numbers, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Yeah, probably… how many is that? I reckon about twenty or so?’
  He scans the small crowd for a few seconds, his lips counting silently.
  ‘Almost, there’s twenty-two.’
  ‘I’ll slow down so we can have another look at them.’
  The square is set back from the road and there is a small collection of shops bordering the village green. None of the undead are looking anywhere in particular, they are just shuffling around and dribbling on each other.

  As our car comes into view, they turn and start heading towards us.
  ‘I know that it’s only a small village, but there’s more than twenty people living here... where are they all?’ I ask Dave
  ‘Locked in their houses - or dead, probably.’
  ‘Hmmm… maybe more people heard that broadcast and have headed down to the Forts. If that broadcast was made from London to the whole south coast - even if only  a few people heard it - they will pass the message on, just like we have, and there could be loads of people heading down there.’
  ‘Could be.’
  ‘What about food and supplies? I know that we told some people to take what they can, but that won’t last long.’
  I stop the car, so that we can watch the undead. Again, they look like the normal, slow, daytime zombies.
  ‘I can’t see any with their heads up, can you?’
  ‘No.’
  We both look round, checking the windows of houses, doorways and any place an intelligent zombie could hide and watch.
  ‘We were fighting for quite a while before that one reacted and even then he just stood there watching. He didn’t actually attack us. Maybe it takes a few minutes of action, before they get bright.’
  I wait until the nearest undead are almost at the back of the car, then I drive forward a few metres. They follow behind the car and I keep pulling forward every time they get within touching distance.   

  Before long, they are strung out in a line and I remember the armoured van that went past my house on Friday night and led them all away; saving my life, in the process. I wander what happened to that man and I hope that he made it somewhere safe.
  ‘Shall I give ‘em a little knock and see if that does anything?’
  ‘Okay.’
  I wait until they are within a few steps of the back of the car and reverse into them with a loud bang. A few get knocked down and I drive forward a few metres again, watching for any reaction.
  ‘See anything?’
  ‘No, nothing different.’
  ‘Me neither, let’s give ‘em a few more tries...’ The road ahead is clear so I know that we can get away, if one of them suddenly starts running at us.
  ‘Still no reaction. It must have been a one off then, just a freak thing.’
  ‘Maybe.’
  ‘You don’t sound convinced, Dave? Oh… what’s that down there?’
  We both look down the road and see where the carriageway narrows into one lane and goes over, what looks like, a bridge. 
  ‘Is that a river?’
  ‘I don’t know.’
  I drive down, leaving the undead shambling behind us. There is a wide river ahead of us. The water looks cool and inviting in this oppressive heat. Just before the bridge, there is a landing platform for boats and ladders; up the side of the bank, on a raised section.
  ‘That must be a movable bridge… look, it’s too low down to let anything other than a small boat get through… and that must be the winch that opens it.’
  I point to a large, metal wheel that looks well used. It has cogs that drive another set of wheels that, in turn, attach to cables that run under the ground.
  ‘Right, it’s my turn for some zombie fun,’ I look back at the undead, still coming down the road behind us, and it looks like there are more than the original twenty-two.  More are coming out of houses and joining the procession. I drive over the bridge and park the car on the other side.
  ‘Dave, would you mind being the bait, please, mate?
  He looks at me for a second, before shrugging his shoulders and getting out of the car. He then walks over to the edge, where the road meets the bridge, and stands facing the oncoming group.
  I move over to the large, metal wheel and take hold of the metal handle that sticks up. I start pushing it and am glad that the wheel moves with ease.
  The reaction is instant as the wheels turn the cogs and I guess some clever machinery happens somewhere and the bridge starts moving. The two sections move away in opposite directions, creating a gap in the middle. Both sections stay horizontal though, which surprises me, as I thought they might lift up. I turn the wheel back the other way and the bridge closes again.

  Dave looks over at me, and I give him a big grin and the thumbs up. He nods back.
  ‘Say when, Dave.’
  ‘Okay.’
  We wait for a few minutes as the undead do their slow shuffle down the road. The sun feels nice and it’s lovely to sit here and rest in the silence for a few minutes.
  The first of the undead reach the end of the bridge and start to cross. Dave walks onto the bridge heading straight for them and then he stops a few steps back from the middle.
  The undead must be excited, having some fresh meat waiting for them!
  I wait until they are a few steps back from the middle and, just as Dave gives me a thumbs up, I start moving the wheel. The bridge starts to separate and the gap forms between the two sections. From my position it looks quite funny as Dave and the undead swing away from each other.

  The undead keep moving forward and the first one falls off the edge and into the river with a splash.

  I burst out laughing and wind the wheel a bit more, making the gap bigger. More of them fall off and land in the water. The first one is floating past me, which I wasn’t expecting; I thought the flow would be the other way if the winch was this side. There must be another winch the other side, so that boats can travel up and down river.
  I watch the undead float past me. They don’t panic or flap about, but just bob along silently. As the first one passes, I watch it sink down under the water. I turn the wheel more and stare as they keep walking off the end, like zombie lemmings. Then the wheel is turned too much and they stop at the side of the bridge, facing towards Dave. I wait for a few minutes, until more of them have built up and there is a nice little crowd formed, all staring hungrily at Dave.
  I slowly turn the wheel back the other way and watch the gap get smaller; they hold their position, just staring across at Dave. Then, as the two ends are just about touch, they all start shuffling as one and I spin the wheel back, increasing the gap.
  The massed undead all fall off the end, splashing water up the sides of the bank. They land on each other and some sink down, as others are pulled along by the current.
  I laugh and wave at them as they go by and they still turn their heads and try to move towards me as they pass. Within a few minutes, they are all gone and our fun ends.

  I wheel the bridge back together, just in case someone needs a quick exit, and head back to the car.
  ‘None of them were too bright, were they?’
  ‘No, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Right, time to stop pissing about and get to Salisbury.’

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Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The cat has learnt to keep to the top of the walls and posts and watch the dead bodies. Already it has caught several large, black rats and passed the infection on to them; leaping down as they emerge from gorging on the dead and sinking its teeth into their slimy flesh, then letting go, so the rat can run away, squealing to safety.
  The infection learnt to allow the instinct to take over the brain and functions, so the cat moves with agility, but then the infection learnt to take that control back, so the cat doesn’t consume the new host.
  The infection has found this small brain much easier to control as the instincts are so intrinsically built in.
  The human hosts don’t have those instincts to kill and move faster. They are stronger and more powerful and can last longer than most animals, but the infection understands their brains are far more complex to fathom.
  The cat readies itself, sinking lower and fixing its bloodshot eyes on the sleek, black body below, as the rat emerges from a drain cover and sniffs the air, then starts forward. The smell of rotting flesh is too much to resist, and more rats slowly climb up from the sewer system and creep out into the road; drawn by the decaying bodies that are slowly cooking in the hot sun.
  The cat is held back and watches as more of the black, sleek, long-tailed creatures slink across the road.
    

  The first few rats ate from the bottom of the bodies and worked their way up through the meat and out into the top, where they would be caught by the cat. But the smell has seeped out as the bodies decompose and the juices spill onto the road.
  It’s said that in modern cities people are never more than a few metres away from a rat at any one time. Rats can survive in almost any environment and now they can do more than just survive.
  They can feast.
  The cat watches as a few rats emerge, then more and more of them, until the road surface is blocked by writhing, shiny, black bodies. The rats disregard the safety of going under the bodies and instead they just eat the first thing they reach. Before long, a feeding frenzy begins and the rats are squeaking as they fight to get at the bodies.
  The cat watches intensely as these small animals squabble fiercely to get at the meat. The dead bodies almost look alive from movement under clothes and the twitching of limbs, as hundreds of rodent teeth sink in and pull at the flesh.
  The infection sends signals to flood the cat’s mouth with saliva and, within seconds, the cat is drooling; appearing hungry to get at the squirming rats below.

  The first rats to be bitten, run away, heading back into the cool, dark, sewers and pipes. The other rats all smelt the blood on the first rat’s coat and started following the scent.
  Some followed the trail that led out into the road, where more bodies lay ready to be eaten. Some of the rats followed the injured one, detecting the weakness and being drawn by the smell of blood.
  The infection took control of that first rat quickly and allowed the instinct to flee to be all consuming.  While the infection stopped the blood flow from the wound, the rat made its way deeper into the underground network of tunnels; the superhighways of the rat world.
  The first rat got to a large sewer pipe and stopped. The lack of people flushing toilets and using
showers has made the sewers drier than ever, and the scents within this enclosed network are drawing rats from all around.
  The advancing rats detect that there are many of them going for the kill and they rush forward, desperate not to miss out on the chance of a meal.
  The first infected rat sits still; twitching its whiskers and waiting for the onslaught. The infection uses the acute hearing and smell of the rat and picks up that many more are coming and it too floods the rat’s mouth with saliva.
  As the first attacking rat comes on, the infected rat leaps and bites into it. Then it keeps leaping and jumping at the other bodies, biting and gnashing its big front teeth; working to draw blood from as many of them as possible. The action sparks a frenzy, as the rats are whipped up by the smell of fresh blood and the infected rat is overwhelmed and consumed.