The Undead. The First Seven Days (55 page)

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Sarah stands in the corridor, with the front door directly behind her, staring at Charlie - her makeshift spear is lowered but is still pointing towards him and he keeps glancing nervously at the large blade taped to the end.
  ‘I didn’t know you lived here, too?’ Charlie says.
  ‘Or you,’ Sarah says.
  ‘You been here long?’ He asks.
  ‘A little while,’ she watches him gingerly touch his bruised and battered face, the lips are still swollen and the bruising has gone a sickening shade of yellow.
  ‘It still hurts,’ he moans.
  ‘Does it?’ Although this is the first person she has seen in days, Sarah is not overwhelmed with joy to see the sleazy bar owner. ‘So where is your wife?’ she asks.
  ‘Err… I haven’t seen her for a few days,’ he mumbles quietly and looks away.
  ‘Doesn’t she live here with you?’ she asks him, puzzled.
  ‘Err, well she did, kind of,’ He looks very uncomfortable.
  ‘You left her there, when all this was happening? You left her on her own?’ She demands, her voice rising slightly.
  ‘Well, it was all going mad and someone had to stay and lock up. I needed to get changed after that crazy man attacked me for no reason.’

  ‘That crazy man was the husband of a woman you groped, I’m surprised it didn’t happen a long time ago,’ Sarah shouts.
  ‘What woman?’ A tall girl, with long, straight, black hair, asks. She has a slight accent.
  ‘Oh, hello,’ Sarah says, surprised.
  ‘Hello, what woman?’ She repeats.
  ‘I’m Sarah, nice to meet you,’ Sarah says.
  ‘Hello Sarah, I’m Vivien. The woman is strikingly beautiful with high cheekbones, but with a surly, pouty face. ‘What woman?’

  Vivien looks to Charlie and then back at Sarah. Charlie visibly squirms under her gaze.
  ‘Excuse me Vivien, I don’t mean to be rude - but Charlie was just telling me how he left his wife at the bar when all of this happened…’
  Not my problem.’ Vivien shrugs.
  ‘He left her to die,’ Sarah says, shocked at the coldness of the woman.
  ‘Like I said, not my problem.’ Vivien says again, pouting.
  ‘So, how did you get here?’ Sarah asks the woman.
  ‘Charlie got me from the hotel on Friday night,’ she replies, without expression.
  ‘The hotel?’ Sarah asks.
  ‘I was staying in a hotel near here. Charlie came and got me and we came here.’
  ‘You fucking scum, you left your wife to die and went to get your girlfriend instead?’ Sarah shouts at Charlie.
   ‘I didn’t know what was happening. I was coming home to get changed and picked Vivien up on the way…’
  ‘You were beaten up for groping another woman, and then, when the whole world erupts, you slink off to get your mistress from the hotel she is hiding in - to have a quickie at home?’ Sarah shouts loudly now, gripping the spear hard.
  ‘What woman? You said there was a fight at the bar.’ Vivien shouts at Charlie, erupting in anger. ‘You fucking cunt, you said there was a fight - but a man beat you up for grabbing his wife - you dirty, fucking animal.’ Vivien screams, her accent getting stronger with the instant rage.

  Sarah stares in shock at the sudden outburst.

  Vivien turns and walks into the bedroom and slams the door, she re-opens it a few seconds later and stands there with her arms folded.
  ‘You fucker. You got me in a hotel waiting for you and your wife at home and you were touching some other woman, you disgust me. Filthy fucker.’ Vivien shouts and her face is contorted with anger.
  ‘No, Viv - I didn’t. I promise I didn’t, it was all wrong - just some mad bloke,’ Charlie pleads with her.
  ‘You can fuck off with your promises, you make empty promises, always empty promises…’
  ‘Viv, please…’ He looks to her pleading.
  ‘I gave up a life for you, a home with a decent man; I gave up my job and my studies and got into debt. I had a life and you promised me you would take care of me. I even had to pay my own fucking hotel bill - you cheap dirty man….’
  ‘Err… excuse me, have you seen what’s going on out there?’ Sarah interjects.
  ‘I don’t fucking care,’ Vivien screams.
  ‘Well I do, as far as we know the whole world has fallen. That creep left his own wife to die and now you’re arguing about him touching up another woman…’
  ‘Who the fuck are you to talk to me, don’t talk to me - you fucking whore, you’re all whores in this country.’ Vivien screams, the veins in her neck bulging out and suddenly she isn’t so beautiful.
  ‘Okay, listen Vivien, those
things
are in the building, and if you don’t keep your voice down, they will come here.’ Sarah says, with a firm, level voice.
  ‘This is your fault,’ Vivien turns back to Charlie. ‘This is all your fault, you fucking prick and now we’re going to die in this shit hole.’
  ‘Now, listen to me - you bitch. You made your choice and now it’s too late, so don’t fucking moan at me…’ Charlie retorts in anger.
  ‘What!? I’m moaning, am I - you promised me a life and this is what I get? You cheap, bloody man.’
  ‘Viv, you’re a cheap bitch that fell for it, that’s your fault, what did you expect from me? I’m fucking married, for god’s sake.’

  Vivien starts pummelling his body and face with her fists and her long, black hair flies about. Sarah slowly backs away, fearing the loud noise will draw the zombies there. She quietly opens the front door and checks the corridor, then pulls the door closed behind her.
  The sound of the raised voices and glass smashing can still be heard as Sarah reaches the stairwell and quickly goes down to the next level.

  The noise will draw those things, but it will also mask any noise she makes and she moves quickly onto the next level, trying door handles and then thinking to check under the floor mats. The next couple of floors are all locked and secure but then she gets lucky and finds a shiny key under a mat outside a door. She quietly listens and then slides the key in, gently pushing the door open.
  Once again, the apartment is a replica of hers - the layout and the room sizes are the same, just the décor is different.
  She eases forward slowly, making each step land softly and shifting her weight from foot to foot. The lounge is clear. She checks the bedroom and bathroom which are also empty and breathes a sigh of relief as she rushes into the kitchen and checks through the cupboards. The various tinned goods get swept into a bag that she finds in a drawer, plus some rice cakes and unopened cartons of orange juice.
  Within minutes, she is back outside and replaces the key under the mat, just in case the owner returns and, also, in case she gets stuck away from her apartment again.

  Back in the stairwell, she climbs up and pauses when she reaches Charlie and Vivien’s floor. She slowly peeks through the door and her heart sinks as she watches the zombie shuffle along the corridor, towards the still raised voices.

  Sarah shakes her head at the blind stupidity of it all and makes her way back to her own apartment. On the next floor up, she has to dart back down and hide, as a zombie shuffles through the door and into the stairwell; the slow and heavy footsteps resound on the carpet as the cumbersome thing drops down each step. The zombie moves slowly and Sarah keeps backing further down, staying out of sight, until the zombie follows the sound of the voices and enters the corridor.

  Sarah wastes no time and quickly sprints up the stairs, until she reaches her own floor and checks that it is empty. Then she runs back into the safety of her own apartment, with a sense of victory at the accomplished mission and the gained supplies.

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We drive quickly down the slip road to the services, following the long, narrow route, until we reach a fork in the road. I take the right path and drive into a service station. Several rows of fuel pumps with green and black handles are stretched across the centre. The pumps on the far end look bigger and I guess they are for commercial sized vehicles; I aim for those pumps and stop before I reach them.
  ‘Which side is the fuel cap on?’ I ask Dave and he jumps out and checks both sides.
  ‘Your side,’ he shouts up.
  ‘Cheers mate,’ I slide the Saxon alongside the pumps, while Dave waves me forward and then holds his hand up.
  ‘Okay lads, let’s go,’ I shout out and the rear doors are thrown open. The recruits pile out.
  Curtis runs to Dave and they both set off, towards the rear of the building, carrying their assault rifles at the ready. Darren Smith is already up-top on the GPMG and I watch Jamie clamber up with the sniper rifle and then start sweeping the area through the scope.
  Blowers then directs Cookey, Tucker and McKinney to take a side each, they respond quickly and spread out. I watch them rack the bolt back and make ready. Within seconds, everyone is where they should be and I glance over to see Nick Hewitt trying to force the doors open.
  ‘Is it locked?’ I shout to Nick.
  ‘Yep, locked up tight,’ he calls back.
  ‘Fuck, I wasn’t expecting that. I can’t believe it’s still locked and hasn’t been looted yet,’ I join him at the electric doors, which are shut tight and secure.
  ‘I’ll get the axe, hang on.’ I run to and from the Saxon and then I take a big swing and strike the glass in the middle, holding my head away to avoid any flying glass. The axe has dented the glass but that’s it. I strike again and again but the glass holds tight.
  ‘Security glass,’ I say to Nick. ‘Ttry shooting it,’ I step back and turn round to face the other direction.
  ‘NICK IS GOING TO SHOOT THE DOORS,’ I call out, so the others don’t panic when they hear the shots.
  Nick aims and fires once, the round makes a hole in the glass pane, but otherwise, no damage. I use the axe to strike at the bullet hole, hoping it has weakened the structure, but it holds fast.
  ‘Fuck this, hang on mate,’ I run back to the Saxon and climb into the back and start checking through the various storage sections, until I find a nice, long, thick chain - with a hook on one end. I find a hole at the bottom front of the Saxon and attach one end of the chain, then stretch it across to the doors and wind it through the bar handles several times.
  Once back in the Saxon, I engage the reverse gear and the chain pulls tight. I apply slightly more pressure to the gas and the doors are pulled clean off and get dragged a few feet, until I stop and roll forward back to where we were. Hewitt runs straight into the shop area and I see him make for the counter.
  Curtis comes running round to the front, towards me.
  ‘We’ve got it ready, it should be on in a minute or so, Sir,’ he yells as he gets closer.
  ‘Well done mate, we just need Nick to figure out how to turn the pumps on now.

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Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The infection has tracked the group through the countryside and then watched them trundling through the towns.

  Each host turns to watch the distinctive vehicle as it drives past them.

  Then they stopped and took down more hosts and it watched the one they call Howie using that long implement and the other smaller one cutting the throats and causing the precious lifeblood to drain away within seconds.
  The infection had watched them as the smaller one spoke to the others and then they all used sharp implements to cut through host necks. Then they stopped again and used another tool to blow the heads off.
  The infection watched and waited, tracking their movements and sent the rats out in that area to find them, stop them and kill them.
  The rats hunt and watch, the eyes are different than the human hosts, but the sight is still excellent and the infection watches through hundreds of thousands of eyes; just waiting for them re-appear.

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‘Fucking, look at the size of that rat,’ Cookey shouts and we all turn to see a big, fat, black rat sitting on the top of a waste bin, off to the parking area - but the side of the fuel station.
  ‘That’s fatter than you, Tucker,’ McKinney shouts.
  ‘Fuck off, we like our food - don’t we my lovely,’ Tucker shouts towards the rat.
  ‘Argh, they’re disgusting, I fucking hate rats,’ Blowers says.
  ‘Must be full up from chomping on all of those bodies,’ Tucker says, with gruesome relish.
  ‘Ah… Tucker, that’s fucking gross, you dirty bastard,’ Cookey shouts at him.
  I watch the rat watching us. There is no fear in it and I guess that they have evolved and got braver.
  ‘That fucking thing is watching us,’ Blowers says, with disgust.
  ‘Jamie, do you think you could hit that rat from up there,’ I shout over to him, he nods and lies down on top of the Saxon, aiming towards the litter bin.

I hear a slight cough and the rat is blown apart in a burst of pink and black fur. We all cheer and Jamie gives a slight nod and carries on scanning the area.
  ‘He’s morphing into, Dave,’ I mutter under my breath.

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Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The infection watches the group and the one they call Howie walks back and forth. The smaller one has gone out of sight, but they are all holding those long things that kill the hosts so easily.