Clifton Falls: A Zombie Story [Part 1]

by Taylor, Lee Andrew

  “Let’s not think about it now; it’s too upsetting.”

  Karen couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Sorry, babe,” Blake said, hugging her. “But something isn’t right.” He let go and stood up before reaching for the TV remote, turning the TV off to say, “Remember the fertiliser that I received the other day?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I sold one to Vincent.”

  “I know you did. So.”

  “Now he’s dead.”

  Karen shot up from her seat to grip Blake tight, cradling the back of his head as he sunk his chin into her shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare think it, accusing yourself…This had nothing to do with you.”

  “But I don’t know what’s in the stuff.” Blake pushed himself away and kicked a bin. “It has experimental ingredients in it…I was in charge of the fertiliser and I let him try one.”

  “But wouldn’t your staff succumb to the same fate if it was the bags?”

  Blake hadn’t thought of that.

  “This is why I love you,” he said, feeling a bit better. “You always know what to say.”

  “I hope you love me for more than my words,” Karen replied, smiling cheekily. “If you know what I mean. Wink, wink.”

  “Yeah, of course, I do…Your cooking skills are also way better than mine.”

  Blake smiled, but a sudden pain burned in the depths of his stomach, making him feel agitated. He couldn’t let what the reporter said drop. Not while he felt like this.

  “I’m sorry, Karen, but I need to speak to the police again, if only for my peace of mind.” Blake picked up his mobile phone and dialled the number. “Hey! If they think it to be not important then I’ll drop it…You have my word.”

  Karen nodded.

  She sat back down as the phone was answered, but Blake panicked as he spoke, making his speech about the fertiliser sound comical.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Susan politely said. “But I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  Karen watched on as Blake struggled to speak; his chest tightening like he was about to collapse. She knew he was on the verge of a stress attack. It was something that happened to him a lot, especially when things didn’t go to plan. And right now, everything he wanted to get off his chest concerning the fertiliser was being thrown back at him and he couldn’t cope.

  “Do you need me to…” Karen softly said, holding out a hand.

  But Blake smiled at her when the words – “Hold on, I’ll put you through to someone who may be able to help…” entered his ears.

  His breathing slowed down as he waited for someone else to speak, but his anger returned when the person said, “Good afternoon, this is the chief inspector speaking. What seems to be the problem?”

  Blake knew it was the guy who spoke the lies at the hospital, but instead of letting out his frustrations just bit his tongue to hear Mike repeat what he’d just said.

  “I’ve got some information which might be of use to you,” Blake replied, sneering into space. “It’s about the deaths of Mr and Mrs Smythe.”

  “What about the deaths?”

  Mike recognised Blake’s voice also.

  He knew Blake had been looking for him at the station last night so remained calm, not wanting to scare him away.

  “I’ve got a good idea what the source behind the deaths might’ve been.”

  Mike rubbed his chin and checked his watch, feeling disinterested by Blake’s words. He needed more and he needed it quickly. He wanted to know why the people were coming back to life? but Blake just waffled on about his fertiliser and Mike couldn’t see the connection. He listened to Blake explain how Vincent took one of the sacks and that he wasn’t sure about the safety of the ingredients, but his words just went in one ear and out the other.

  “Let me stop you there, Blake. Are you saying that you think the fertiliser killed him?”

  “I don’t know.” Blake became nervous again as thoughts of Mike laughing at him made him sweat. “I know it sounds too farfetched but the truth is, he had the fertiliser - and now he’s dead.”

  Mike wasn’t impressed to hear the outcome. Of all the theories that could’ve been said, the fertiliser one just didn’t wash with him.

  “Okay, Blake. Thank you for that useful information.” Mike placed a hand over the phone and choked on a laugh. He then shook his head to say, “If I need anything else then I’ll be in touch…Bye.”

  The phone went silent before Blake had time to respond.

  The poor man has lost the plot if he thinks there’s a fertiliser monster out there, Mike thought, returning to a whiteboard on a wall inside the room.

  Blake stood with the phone in his hand, looking baffled as Karen slowly neared. She knew the outcome of the conversation without him saying anything but wanted to hear it anyway.

  “What’s up? What did he say to you?”

  “I have a feeling he didn’t believe me.” Blake sighed and lowered his phone.

  “Are you surprised? It’s a bit hard to swallow, the fact that you think the fertiliser is the killer…”

  Blake felt more depressed as each word sunk in, leaving his mind scrambled as he bowed his head and sat down.

  “…But anyway, at least you tried telling him what you thought…Best to just forget about it now and let him do his job.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, love.”

  “I’ll just go and put the kettle on, make you a nice brew to cheer you up.”

  ***

  Mike stared at the whiteboard as Blake’s words crept back inside his mind; his head shaking as if fighting with his decision to dismiss the compost for being the reason behind why the town was in chaos.

  It couldn’t be? he thought, writing the word – fertiliser – on the board before adding a question mark.

  He thought back to who was on call when the Smythes were murdered, remembering it was Wayne after seeing him pass his office window. So, he rushed over to bang on it to gain Wayne’s attention.

  “What’s up?” Wayne said, opening the door. “You look troubled.”

  “Take a seat.” Mike walked over to the whiteboard, pointing at the recent word, but Wayne just shrugged at him. “I thought this was hilarious a few minutes ago but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Sure about what?”

  “About this,” Mike said, pointing at the word again. “The fertiliser that arrived in town recently.”

  “Excuse me. I think I’m a bit lost,” Wayne replied, smirking. “Do you want to buy some of it?”

  “No…Let me explain…I’ve just had that Blake guy on the phone telling me some weird shit about the stuff.”

  “Go on.”

  “He claims it may be behind the murders. Says he sold a bag to the bank manager.” Mike knew Wayne was thinking what he was thinking. He could tell because he was trying to hide a laugh. “I know, sounds like a hoax, right, but it’s doin’ my head in.”

  Wayne tried to focus but he couldn’t. He was gone, laughing into his hand. Mike knew he should’ve stopped him but the more outrageous Wayne’s laughing got, the more tempting it was for him to do the same. And seconds later he was at it, giggling like a child.

  “Stop it, man, my sides are splittin’,” Wayne said, roaring with tears of laughter. “The fertiliser you say…How scary is that?”

  “I’m being serious,” Mike replied, wiping his eyes. “Did you notice anything unusual about the garden at the Smythes property?”

  “Apart from an open grave, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, not really.”

  “So, you didn’t see a nine-foot-tall, angry fertiliser bag with a serious attitude coming towards you?” Mike spluttered, as more tears of joy dripped from his eyes.

  Their laughter was so intense that everyone in the building could hear their juvenile squeals.

  Mike slapped a hand against Wayne’s shoulder before almost falling over; sucking in the air as he wiped his eyes again.
>
  “…Did you see anything that we can go on?”

  “I only glanced at the garden…I was too busy inside with that creature,” Wayne replied, shuddering. “Do you want me to go back?”

  “No…” Mike said, knowing Wayne needed to rest. “Doug and Craig can go…Let’s hope they find something.”

  “Sure…I’ll go look for em’.”

  ***

  Wayne knew where they were. It was obvious. He found them in their most-used room inside the police station, eating in the canteen.

  “All right chaps. I see you’re busy,” he said, sneaking up on them to freak them out.

  “Man, don’t do that,” Doug replied, choking on his food. “Now you’ve interrupted our serious discussion.”

  “About what?”

  “About which dessert to have after our meal.”

  Wayne shook his head.

  He was in two minds about going to the Smythes house himself after seeing the pair act like squabbling teenagers, pulling on either side of the menu to annoy him.

  “For God’s sake, guys, get a grip.”

  “What’s got into you?” Craig popped up to say, snatching the menu. “This is our downtime…We need it.”

  “I know you do, but don’t switch off completely. I don’t want anything happening to you both.” Wayne smiled at them before adding, “Oh, yeah, the chief’s got a job for you.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It didn’t take long before Doug and Craig arrived on the newly named ‘death street’; both staring at the Gilberts house as they exited the car. They walked with caution, not knowing what was in the garden belonging to the Smythes, gripping their batons as if expecting to be pounced on. But it was very quiet on the street.

  They slowly walked down the side of the house, moving police tape out of the way before stepping onto the garden, but nothing had changed since yesterday. They stopped and looked at the gravesite, seeing muddy piles of dirt to make their knees shake; feeling thankful for not being caught up in the turmoil.

  “That must’ve been where it came from,” Craig said, thinking of Nash. “That fuckin’twisted freak.”

  “I feel ill just looking at it,” Doug said, turning to see the hole in the fence. “Now we know why the dog went mental…It must’ve come through there and got infected.”

  Craig shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. He hoped that the other households were safe, that the virus hadn’t reached them. He couldn’t handle another outbreak.

  He moved away from Doug and aimed for the shed, peering through the window to see a half bag of fertiliser resting on the wheelbarrow; smiling at the thought of this visit being over quickly. He checked the door, seeing it was padlocked with an old rusty lock.

  “Are you okay over there?” Doug asked after seeing Craig stall. “Can’t you get in?”

  “Oh, I can get in alright,” Craig happily replied, stepping back to kick the lock open. “I was just getting into my Bruce Lee mode.”

  Doug laughed as Craig opened the door. “Bruce Lee, my ass…More like Rusty Lee to me.”

  He watched Craig disappear into the shed, feeling nervous as the seconds ticked by, but he smiled when the wheelbarrow was seen. He nodded as Craig pushed it out, pleased to see the bag.

  “Right, I think I’ve found the stuff that we came here for,” Craig said as thoughts of where he wanted to be next brought on another smile. “Let’s get this back to the station so we can select that dessert before someone else nabs it.”

  Doug was in full agreement as he walked over to grab the bag, picking it up before heading back to the car.

  “Let’s get out of here. I need some food.”

  Craig caught him up and burst out laughing. “You aren’t hungry for food, mate, you just fancy that new canteen lady.” Craig pushed him. “I know you do so don’t even think about denying it.”

  Doug shook his head and kept on walking.

  “No…I don’t fancy her,” he said, acting annoyed. “My fuckin’ stomach’s rumblin’. It means I’m famished.”

  “I’ll let you off this time.”

  “And anyway,” Doug said, puffing out his cheeks as he placed the bag down by the car. “Why are you always trying to set me up with someone? I’m fine on my own…”

  But Craig stared at him to make him feel uneasy.

  “…What?!”

  “You’ve got it all over you,” Craig worryingly said, pointing at compost stains on Doug’s clothing. “What if it’s infectious?”

  Doug slowly looked at his chest. “Infectious, my arse,” he cried out, wiping the stains away. “I’ll infect you if you don’t get me back to the station…”

  Craig raised a hand and laughed as Doug picked the bag up again.

  “…Are you gonna’ open the boot or just gawp at me?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  ***

  They arrived back at the station, leaving the bag inside the car as they headed for the chief’s office; hearing him laughing with Wayne as they entered the room. But they shushed as soon as Doug closed the door.

  “Alright chaps. Did you find anything?” Mike asked, controlling himself. “At the house.”

  “The job is done, chief,” Craig happily said. “We found half a bag of the stuff inside the shed.”

  Mike wasn’t expecting those words, especially since he and Wayne had just been laughing again about the tall fertiliser bag with the attitude problem, but he was now taking Blake’s story seriously.

  “Nice one…I need one of you to send it off to the lab. Tell the technicians to search for anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Will do, chief,” Craig softly replied, turning to walk away.

  “I want to know everything about it. Every slightest detail must be accounted for.”

  Craig waved as he left the room.

  Doug rubbed a hand over his face and sighed before sitting down to attract Mike’s attention. He wanted to get a few things off his chest but was now feeling stupid for even thinking about it.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Mike said, watching him closely.

  “Sorry, chief,” Doug replied, sweating. “But I need to talk to you about the house.”

  “Go on…Don’t keep me in suspense.” Mike leaned against his desk, noticing Doug was fidgeting. “Spit it out, Doug,” he said, turning to Wayne. “I don’t have all day.”

  Doug explained his theory about what happened in the garden, making sure to mention the hole in the fence being the possible link as to why the dog attacked the vet.

  “Shit!” Wayne hollered, shuddering after a reminder of the deaths from both houses hit him. “So, you think the mother from the grave infected the dog?”

  “Must’ve…Right?”

  “It’s the only obvious reason as to why it went crazy,” Mike butted in to say. “But what I want to know is how does the fertiliser fit into all this?”

  “Didn’t Blake say there were some weird ingredients inside it?”

  “Yeah, Doug, he did, but his fertiliser isn’t linked to the women found on the country lane or the rotting corpse splattered by the lorry.”

  “You’re right,” Wayne interrupted, feeling drained more than ever. “I was so close to believing Blake’s theory but now I’m not so sure.” He walked around the room, cursing under his breath. “Shit, we’re back at square one again.”

  “Okay, let’s reel it in,” Mike quickly said, waving his hands around. “As far as we know, the deadly infection is passed on when someone has been attacked by one of those freaks.”

  “That’s correct,” Wayne replied, feeling Mike was aiming the words at him. “But it’s all over now…The last of the infected was burned to a crisp.”

  “But Jason was caught up in a battle with those things.”

  “Yes, but I told you. He only had his fingers crushed. He’s fine.”

  “But are you sure he is?”

  “Don’t scare me, Mike,” Wayne said, gulping. “I was with him. He never mentione
d he was bitten.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know?” Doug awkwardly questioned, squirming at the thought. “He may have been scratched.”

  “Scratched?” Wayne nervously laughed. “You’ve seen what happens. The fuckers rip chunks out of you…He had no chucks taken from him…”

  Wayne was close to losing it as his mind raced back to the zombies from the morgue. But he couldn’t pinpoint when one could’ve bitten Jason. Then he remembered something.

  “…Damn! He did have one all over him, climbing on him when he was on the floor.”

  “And did it scratch him?”

  “Mike, I don’t know…It all happened so fast.”

  “Okay, just stay calm and go pay him a visit…He needs to supply a blood sample anyway.”

  “Will do.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jason lay on his bed sweating onto the sheets, as a fever ripped through his body. He had taken a few painkillers since leaving the hospital last night but none had made any difference.

  He winced after a sharp pain smacked against his lower back before rolling onto his side to place a hand against it; feeling his skin burn against his fingers to bring tears to his eyes. He slowly lifted off the bed and walked to a standup mirror, raising his shirt to see the skin around the area had changed colour. His pale cream complexion now an irritating mass of red. He noticed faint lines spreading around a blood patch near to his spine, feeling confused and stunned that the blood belonged to him before collapsing back onto the bed. He had no idea what was happening.

  Dawn, his mother, shouted up to him from the foot of the stairs, holding a bowl of chicken soup, but Jason was in too much pain to respond.

  “Jason, love!” she shouted again, slowly walking up the stairs. “I’ve made you some warm soup…It should help bring your fever down…”

  She walked up to his bedroom door, listening out for a reply, feeling heartbroken that he was poorly.

  “…Are you asleep?”

  But the words – “Fuck off you bitch and shove the soup up your arse,” – almost made her cry.

  She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Jason had never spoken to her like this before.