The Undead. The First Seven Days (67 page)

They enter a reception area, with wooden flooring and doors leading off to both sides. A woman appears wearing a white lab coat with a stethoscope hanging from her neck.
  ‘Hi Chris, everything okay?’ she asks, with a genuine smile to the big man.
  ‘Hi Doc, yeah everything is fine, just showing these lads about. Is Doc Roberts about?’ Chris replies, smiling at the pretty doctor.
  ‘He’s around here somewhere, make sure you clean your hands, if you go in,’ she disappears through another door.
  ‘This is the hospital we set up, we’ve got operating rooms and triage points through those doors. It’s very basic but okay for now. Come with me...’ Chris opens a door to the right and walks through; Howie and Dave enter a wooden panelled room with rows of beds on both sides. The beds are occupied by sleeping figures swathed in bandages and dressings.
  ‘The beds are valuable and only the most seriously injured use them.’ Chris explains quietly as they walk down.
  ‘Stop right there, please,’ an older man, wearing a white lab coat, calls over in a firm voice. ‘Clean your hands,’ the man gestures for them to go back, waving his arm.
  ‘Sorry, Doc,’ Chris calls out and takes them back to a desk next to the door they came through, picking up a large bottle of anti-bacterial hand wash and applying it liberally on his hands, before offering the bottle to Howie.
  ‘That’s Doc Roberts,’ Chris says. ‘He’s in charge of the hospital.’ Chris smiles as the older doctor approaches them.
  ‘Good to see you, Chris - everything all right out there?’ Doctor Roberts asks; thick grey eyebrows over bright, intelligent eyes.
  ‘Yes Doc, this is Howie and Dave, they arrived a short time ago from the South. It’s as bad down there as we thought.’
  ‘Hmmm, I thought it would be, good to meet you.’ The doctor nods at them.
  ‘You too doctor, have you any idea what’s causing this?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Not a clue,’ the doctor says. ‘The infection can enter from saliva or blood, and once it’s in the body, it takes everything over, none of us have ever seen anything like it before. But we don’t have the equipment or the means to start examining it properly.’
  ‘Which is why we have come to see you, Doc,’ Chris says. ‘These lads are going to Canary Wharf , there’s a few of them and armed to the teeth too. Might be a good chance to try for that hospital you mentioned…?’
  ‘Excellent, I will prepare a list immediately. Ideally, I want to send someone with you but I cannot afford to risk losing any trained people,’ the doctor replies instantly. ‘We need equipment, surgical implements and as many medicines as you can find. I’ll get on it now, my list will be ready in ten minutes.’ The doctor turns and walks back down the room and through another door.
  ‘Well, that’s that then,’ Chris shakes his head as he leads them out of the hospital and back into the street.
  ‘Chris, we don’t have time to do a hospital raid for you,’ Howie says politely. ‘If we can get Sarah and bring her here, maybe we can go back, but I have to get her first.’
  ‘No, that’s not what I’m thinking. I think we could join forces and go with you. That Armoured Personnel Carrier will be an ideal support vehicle, and if we combine our forces we should get through a lot easier.’
  ‘So how would it work,’ Howie asks, as they walk back down the street towards the pub.
  ‘The hospital is on the way, well just a very minor deviation, but if you help us get to the hospital, we’ll go with you for your sister. We combine the strength of our forces and work together.’ Chris explains.
  ‘Why that hospital? London is huge and there must be other ones closer.’
  ‘Doctor Roberts helped design it and he was in charge of it. It’s brand new and he knows every piece of equipment in there and the exact layout too. Plus, it received a huge funding allowance for infectious disease research so he wants some the equipment from that area in particular.’
  ‘It does make sense, I guess - how long will it take before you’re ready to go?’

Chris stops to consider the question, nodding his head from side-to-side.
  ‘An hour or so.’

They agree to meet near the Saxon and Howie returns to the pub and calls Blowers and Cookey over.
  ‘We’ve got a plan,’ Howie says, once they are all grouped round. ‘We are heading into the City, to the Canary Wharf area, where my sister lives. Chris said the area will be overrun, but we have the Saxon and weapons with plenty of ammunition.’ They nod back at him. ‘Chris wants to do a raid on a special hospital on the way, there’s a doctor here who got some funding for an infectious disease research lab… he wants to join forces and we’ll help him with the hospital and he helps us get to Sarah, I’ve said yes - but I’m open to any questions or concerns from you guys.’ Howie finishes and looks to each of them.
  ‘I’m happy,’ Cookey offers first.
  ‘With men’s arses,’ Blowers mutters, to a few chuckles. ‘I’m in too.’
  ‘Me too,’ Hewitt says. ‘We are coming back through here on the way back though?’
  ‘That’s the plan Nick; it looks nice here, doesn’t it. I was thinking this would be my second choice if the Forts don’t work out.’

The recruits nod.

The extreme contrast from the incredibly degraded urban area: the battles, the violence and extreme upset they have already faced is stark against this calm area - full of normal looking people going about normal lives and it reminds each of them of what they’ve lost.
  ‘Lads, this is a personal mission for me, to save my sister, and I’ve said from the beginning you don’t have to do this. Any of you can stand down and stay here, or choose to do what you wish - with no come back from me. You’re all young and your lives have already been devastated enough, you don’t have to keep going with this.’ Howie says, in earnest.
  ‘Nah, I’m still in, we’ve come this far. It would be a shame to stop now, and, besides, there’s still a shit load of them fucking zombies to kill,’ Hewitt is the first to speak his mind.
  ‘I’m with Hewitt,’ Cookey adds.
  ‘In more ways than one,’ Blowers says quickly. ‘Stop with the fucking gay jokes, you dick,’ Cookey says, exasperated.
  ‘You want dick?’ Blowers retorts, with a smile.
  ‘Before them two get going again, I want to say I’m in too,’ Tucker holds his hand up. ‘And me,’ McKinney adds. The rest add their affirmation with nods and grins.
  ‘You lot must be fucking mad,’ Howie says, grinning back at them. ‘But I am glad you’re on my side though, I wouldn’t want to face you lot in a fight.’
  ‘Fucking right,’ Cookey says, with firm conviction.

Darren Smith works alongside the recruits, unloading the weapons from the Saxon and stripping them down for cleaning under the watchful eye of Dave. He sweats heavily, but then the weather is scorching and everyone else sweats too.

His skin flushes red and, at times, he feels dizzy - but then the others also look flushed and, after everything they’ve been through, Darren puts it down to stress, heat and the constant action.

_____________________________________

Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The infection works slower than it ever has done.

Each host it has taken so far has been consumed totally, within minutes; each cell infected and brought to destruction, so the infection can re-start the body, fully in control. But this time is different, it’s Darren’s heart that beats and pumps the blood. It’s Darren’s brain that sends the electrical impulses that drive the body forward and Darren’s mind processes the thousands of images the eyes take in, and this brain matches those eyes to the sounds recorded by the ears. The infection learns how a host controls this body with ease.
  The infection resists the urge to take control and instead allows Darren to look where he wants and the infection observes the thousands of uninfected humans just waiting to be taken. The infection looks to the way they move and walk about freely and then uses the eyes of the surrounding host bodies to try and work out their position. But the humans here have been smart and not attacked the hosts in great numbers, so the infection has allowed the host bodies to drive themselves and gather at the points they last saw the uninfected. But now it realises there must be pockets like this all over the world, but it’s only a matter of time before the infection can pick them off, one by one.
  The infection feels the reaction with Darren, when the one they call Howie speaks, it observes the chemical reaction that invokes a change and it recognises the thought processes that fly through the mind as Darren listens intently.

Darren deeply admires and respects Howie, and also the small one that is always next to him. Darren feels a great sense of loyalty to this man and the infection picks up on this and knows it can work to learn how to use these chemicals and feelings to control more of the host bodies.
  Howie is their leader, but as much as the infection controls the host bodies, they are not led. They are forced to do as the infection wills, but maybe they could use a leader and the infection could make them feel loyalty towards that leader.

It hears the one they call Howie talk about Sarah and a place called Canary Wharf and the City and the infection scours through billions of memories and thought processes to work this out. It slowly begins to understand the area they are going to and, using the memories of infected taxi drivers, bus drivers, policemen and postal workers, it develops an understanding of the route they will take, of the path that lies before them and the end destination.

Within Canary Wharf and the surrounding streets and neighbourhoods, all of the undead stop and turn to face the route Howie and the resistors will take.

Those on the outskirts are sent shuffling in that direction and other survivors are amazed and greatly relieved to see hordes of zombies moving in one mass file towards another area.

The infection has already once made the mistake of making them move too fast too soon and weakened the feeble bodies, but now it will keep them slow, repairing, until the time is right.

The infection has learned to plan ahead and it will do it right this time.

______________________________________________

Sarah wakes up late on Wednesday morning, her head aching as she lifts it from the pillows. Her hair is splayed out and messy and her throat feels dry. She slowly rolls to the edge of the bed and pushes her legs over the side, her feet knocking into the empty wine bottles left by the side of the bed.

With a groan, she looks at the several bottles laying throughout the room and slowly remembers the righteous decision she made to get smashed. Not a heavy drinker anyway, the alcohol had a rapid effect on her, due to her empty stomach, which now heaves in complaint at the harsh chemicals forced into it the night before.
  She runs to the toilet and just manages to lift the lid as she vomits into the bowl, retching and dry heaving, until nothing but bile comes up.

She sinks down and rests her pounding head on the cool tiles of the floor, regretting every single gulp of the wine she took. She started off listening to thumping rock tracks on her
iPod
, but as the alcohol took effect, she selected the slower songs, until she was wallowing in self-pity; listening to power ballads over and over.

She doesn’t even recall getting into bed, but gets flashbacks of dancing naked in the tiny apartment, after stripping off her clothes in the sultry heat of the evening.
  Sarah lies on the floor, with sweat pouring off her body and the rancid taste of bile in her mouth. She slowly gets up and crawls to the corner shower cubicle, closing the door behind her. She reaches up and twists the water flow on, giving a scream as the freezing jets of water soak into her, before sliding down to lie on her side and let the water cleanse her.

_______________________________________

Howie drives the Saxon slowly down the main road, nodding and smiling at people as they step out of the way.

Armed guards walk in front and to the sides of the vehicle, re-assuring the residents of the commune that all is okay with their presence.
  ‘I like that Chris, bloke,’ Howie says to Dave.
  ‘He seems okay,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Nice place this.’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  ‘So how come you decided to be open about your military background?’ Howie asks.
  ‘It served a purpose, we needed him on side and the Parachute Regiment always worked well with our lot.’
  ‘So, it was a tactic?’
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Smart move mate, and that stuff about the exits was clever too, and the way he realised he was the fourth - that was impressive.’
  ‘Thanks, Mr Howie.’
  ‘No mate, I mean it… this heat is getting worse, there must be a storm coming.’
  ‘Maybe.’
  ‘I’ve never known it so hot, even the road surface is melting.’
  ‘I can see.’
  ‘Have you known it hotter than this?’
  ‘A few times,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Where?’
  ‘The jungle is hot and humid; it just saps the blokes and drains them. The desert is different; dry heat with no escape.’
  ‘What do you prefer, heat or cold?’ Howie asks.
  ‘I don’t mind, I did service in cold places and hot places, it doesn’t bother me too much.’
  ‘You must have a preference?’
  ‘Not really, Mr Howie - how about you?’
  ‘I thought I loved the heat, but I’m having doubts now. Sitting on a beach in Spain with a cold beer is slightly different to running around the country killing zombies.’
  ‘I guess so, never been to Spain - well I went to Gibraltar once, does that count?’
  ‘Gibraltar? That’s a British place, but it’s in Spain - so yeah, I guess it does. Where did you go on holiday?’
  ‘I didn’t.’
  ‘What about downtime or when you had time off?’
  ‘I stayed at the base or went back to get ready for the next mission.’
  ‘Bloody hell mate, never had a holiday?’
  ‘No, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Well, maybe after this ends, you should take one.’
  ‘This won’t end,’ Dave says, flatly.
  ‘It has to end sometime…one way or the other,’ Howie says, quietly staring dead ahead.