The Z Infection (39 page)

After the problem we had encountered,
with the two men in the flat, we had decided that it would be best if one of us
remained in the building at all times.  We devised a system where we agreed on
a timescale for my return at the rear door.  If I wasn’t back at the appointed
time we moved it back by half an hour and so on until I was there.  It worked
well enough, but the radios would be much better.

I was tinkering with it, while
sitting out on the roof garden in the morning, when I suddenly heard a voice
coming over.  It sounded like they were army.  I couldn’t be certain but it was
just the way they were talking.

I called to Claire.  ‘Come and listen
to this.’

She climbed out from the utility and
we listened in stunned silence.  I hadn’t heard another human voice, apart from
Claire’s, since Leo had pleaded for his life.

‘Where do you think they are?’ asked
Claire.

‘They must be close,’ I said.  ‘These
things can’t have a massive range.’

‘Bravo, Victor, One,’
said a voice.

‘Go ahead,’
came the reply.

‘Confirmed area clear.’

‘What area?’ I said.

‘Confirmed,’
said the voice.

‘Speak to them,’ suggested Claire.

I wasn’t sure.  We couldn’t be
absolutely certain that these were army personnel.

‘What if it’s more like the last
two?’ I asked.

‘Then we don’t tell them where we are
until we are certain,’ said Claire.

That seemed like the perfect
solution.  I picked up the handset and pressed the button.

‘This is Xiaofan Li and Claire
Sampson calling,’ I said.

It sounded really awkward.  There was
a long pause before we got a response.

‘This is Forward Operating Base
North,’
said the voice.
 
‘Identify yourselves and your position.’

 I looked at Claire and she shook her
head. I thought for a moment.

‘Sampson and Li,’ I said.  ‘Where is
Forward Operating Base North?’

There was another long pause.  I
think she was taking instructions from a superior.

‘We are based near Luton,’
came the voice.
  ‘Identify your
location.’

‘We are located at Fort Sampson-Li,’
I said.

Claire looked at me as if to say
‘where did that come from’ and I shrugged my shoulders.  It had been right off
the top of my head.

The voice pushed for more information
but I repeated what I had said then signed off, telling them that battery power
was low and I would be back on air the next day at the same time.

I switched off the radio before they
had the chance to respond.

‘Well,’ I said to Claire.  ‘There are
still people out there who are surviving.  It isn’t just us.’

‘I’m relieved,’ she said.  ‘But what
now?  What do we do?  Try and find them or stay here?’

I didn’t know.  Being with other
people sounded like it would be nice, but I kind of liked it being just the two
of us, perched on our own little castle, defying the infected and tending our
rooftop garden.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to give that up just yet.

Clive Westlake

11:00 hours, Monday 25
^th
May, Hounslow,
West London

I had stayed in the area around
Hounslow for a week after the disastrous battle in the park.  I had seen how
not to fight the dead, but I now had a good idea of how to fight them too.  The
two hundred or so had maybe not perished in vain after all.

The first thing I had done was to
find myself a decent place to stay.  I tried several different locations,
before I found exactly what I was looking for.  It was a small first floor flat
on the corner of a street.  The window of the living room gave me an uninterrupted
view for at least two hundred metres down three streets.  The flat was also
easily defended.  The front door, which was the only way in, had three sliding
bolts and a sturdy lock.  It wouldn’t hold for ever, but it would last for long
enough to allow me to escape through one of the windows.

Once I was secure I felt safer.  It
was the first time since the beginning of the incidents that I had felt that
way.  I was able to cook because the gas was still working and there was a
comfortable bed and a shower.  It would do for the time being.

The next thing I did was find myself
a decent weapon.  I went back to the park where the battle had taken place. 
Bodies littered the field.  Despite being heavily outnumbered, the two hundred
or so had exacted a heavy toll of the dead, killing a few hundred of them.

It was a grisly scene.  Some had
horrifying injuries and most of them had been almost completely eaten by the
infected.  Swarms of flies went about their business and the stench was almost
too much for me.

But I knew that this was where I
would find what I was looking for.  The dead didn’t strip the battlefield like
an ancient army would.  They left everything that couldn’t be eaten.  I found
axes and clubs, cudgels and home-made weapons of all sorts.  But the best
things I found were a sword and a beautiful spear. 

The sword was Japanese I guess.  It
was sharp and the blade was covered in blood.  It had been used by a man who
was lying under a pile of corpses and he still held it in an iron grip.  The
scabbard for it was still on his back.  I had to turn him over to remove it and
he stank to high heaven.  He had been there for two days by then.

The spear was something else.  It
looked like it would have adorned someone’s wall at home in the past.  It was about
four feet in length and the shaft was made of a sturdy wood that would take a
lot of punishment.  The blade on the end had been sharpened and the point was
perfect for cutting through bone.

I took them both, along with a small
axe and a huge knife.  I was now better armed than I had been at any point so
far.

The following day I put the sword to
the test.  An infected woman was shambling along the street outside the flat. 
I let her walk for another couple of blocks, stalking her silently.  I was now
the hunter and she was the hunted.

When we were far enough away from my
flat, I struck.  I attacked her from behind. Before she knew I was even there I
had swung with the sword and decapitated her.  The body flopped uselessly to
the ground, while the head continued to snap at me.  I finished off the head
with my spear.  I didn’t want any noise at all.

Later that afternoon I saw another
one.  It was a man this time.  He looked like he would have been in his sixties
when he had died.  He staggered towards me, arms outstretched.

I backed away, but only to give
myself some room.  Using the space I had gained, I unslung my spear and lunged
at him with it.  I caught him in the eye.  The spear slicing straight through
it and into his brain.  He died instantly.

Satisfied with my work, I headed for
home.  I now knew how to use the weapons I had found.  All I needed were some
followers.

It was the next day, while I was
searching for another victim to hone my skills on, when I met the first of a
group of survivors who had been sheltering in a school.  I had just finished scavenging
food from another convenience store, when I noticed some movement across the
street among some trees.

I assumed it was one of the infected,
as I hadn’t seen another survivor since the battle.  What I found, hiding in
some thick bushes, was a youth of about sixteen. 

‘Come on out,’ I said, as I
approached his hide.

He hesitated.  Another one who was
scared of the living and the dead.  There were so many survivors who were like
that.  It became my mission, from that day forth, to try to eradicate that and
draw people together once more.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ I said.

He still didn’t move.

I unslung my sword and laid it on the
ground with the spear.  I then took a step back.  It was a calculated risk.  If
he had made a lunge for the weapons I could still react with my axe or knife. 
But he also now had the chance to run away before I could reach them.

I waited for a minute or two more,
without speaking.  He was frightened and I didn’t want to scare him any more
than he already was.  He still didn’t move, so I reached into my shoulder bag. 
Food might do the trick, I thought.

I pulled out a pear from the bag.  It
had seen better days, but it was still a treat.  There was movement now.  A
slight rustling in the bushes.  I tossed the pear onto the ground and a hand
reached out and took it.

‘I have more,’ I said.  ‘I’ve got a
pie in here too.’

I reached in again and pulled out a
small pork pie.  This time I held it out.  There was more movement now and
suddenly a face appeared.  He looked half-starved and had the face of a hunted
animal. 

‘Take it,’ I said.  ‘I have plenty
more.’

He stepped out from the bushes
completely now.  He was slightly shorter than my six foot frame and was
considerably thinner.  His brown trousers and red top were filthy from the days
he had spent living rough.

I sat down on the ground and he
joined me and took the pie, ripping off the packaging and biting into it.  He
finished it in seconds and I gave him another.  By the time ten minutes had
gone by, he had eaten four of the small pies, another pear and two bags of
crisps.

‘I’m Clive,’ I said.  ‘What’s your
name?’

‘Peter,’ he said.

I looked around.  The area was
completely deserted.

‘Where do you live?’ I asked.

‘Not far from here,’ he replied.  ‘In
a school.’

‘Are you on your own?’ I asked.

He shook his head.  ‘There are ten of
us.’

‘Why are you out on your own?’ I
asked.

‘Some of them are too scared to come
out,’ he said.  ‘Others are too weak.  We haven’t eaten in days.  I came to
look for food, but it’s getting harder to find.’

‘I have quite a bit stored in my
flat,’ I said.  ‘I’ll give you some.’

His eyes brightened noticeably at the
prospect.

‘Where is your flat?’ he asked.

I stood up.  ‘Not far.  Do you want
to come with me?’

We walked to my new home, chatting
about his group and what had happened to them.  It turned out that Peter lived
nearby and had followed the initial government advice when the outbreak had
started.

By the time the government had
changed its mind it was too late and there were already problems in his area. 
Before long the streets were too dangerous and after his family had been wiped
out by a swarm, on the first Sunday, he had found a way into the school
building.  Since that day others had joined him and they had managed to remain
undetected, despite the odd swarm passing through the area.

It turned out that the school was
only a few streets from where I was living.  We packed a few bags with food and
other essentials and walked the fifteen minutes to it.

When we arrived, Peter gave a signal
and a door opened.  I was greeted by several pairs of suspicious eyes.  It was
the usual mixed bag.  There was the school janitor, who had keys for the entire
building.  There was a married couple who had lived across the street and who
had banded together with the others for safety.  There was an older woman, in
her forties, who the group had rescued when it looked like she was about to be
killed by a couple of the infected and the others were all in their mid to late
teens.  All in all, they looked like a sorry bunch.

I shared out the food.  Luckily they
had access to the kitchens and could cook, but they had exhausted all the
supplies in the first few days.  They set about preparing a meal of pasta with
chopped tomatoes and soon they were all sitting down to the first proper meal
they had eaten for a while.

When they were finished I asked them
what their intentions were.

‘We stay here,’ said the janitor. 
‘We’re safe and the army will soon come and rescue us.’

They hadn’t had access to a
television or radio for some time and were unaware that the army had been
almost completely destroyed.

‘That’s not going to happen,’ I
said.  ‘You need to think about how you are going to survive.  That means
finding food, which means going outside.’

‘Going outside means death,’ said the
janitor.  Others nodded in agreement and muttered under their breath.

‘Not if you’re prepared,’ I said.

My comment was met by blank faces.

‘I’ve survived,’ I said.  ‘Against
all the odds.  Yes, it’s dangerous.  Yes, it’s not easy.  But it can be done if
you know what you’re doing.’

‘You can’t fight against them,’ said
a teenage girl of about fifteen.  ‘I saw what happened at the park down at
Feltham.  They massacred those people.’

I now recognised her.  She had been
one of those who had chosen to run, when others had marched to certain death.