The Virus

by Lee, Damien

  A prompt ding from the elevator made Amy turn. The two men stepped back as the sliding doors closed, concealing the corpse. She felt a brief sensation of relief to be free of the dead man. That was until the elevator whirred into motion. The trio exchanged anxious glances as the lift descended.

  10

  The dull clamour of opening locks roused the prisoners from their slumber. Frank, however, hadn’t slept at all. The soiled mattress and overwhelming stench of urine were less than inviting, but it was Henderson’s threat that deprived him of sleep. He spent the night pondering what the guard could be planning. He didn’t believe there was any veracity to Henderson’s statement, but as the minutes passed, his torment increased. When he heard Gus Razor being led away from his cell in the dead of night, Frank’s paranoia only intensified.

  Despite him returning no more than half an hour later, Frank couldn’t help but wonder what Gus was involved in. Was he being ordered to kill him to keep the heat off Henderson? Or was it more dodgy deals he was conducting outside the walls? The possibilities were never-ending, and it was only once his cell door swung open that Frank was given something else to occupy his mind.

  “You’ve got some serious problems, Lee,” McAllister told him.

  Frank looked up from his perch on the ground; the only portion of the cell not stained or tainted by bodily fluids.

  “McAllister, why don’t you take a seat?” he motioned towards the soiled linen on the mattress.

  “I think I’ll pass,” The large guard replied, leaning against the door frame. “Henderson’s going to kill you.”

  Frank rose to his feet, shaking his head as he spoke. “That bloke isn’t happy unless he’s surrounded by death. First the kid, and I’m guessing he’s poisoned the lads in the hospital wing?”

  “Mortuary,” McAllister said. “They’re dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yup, the last one died twenty minutes ago. The mortician’s van has seen more miles than a London cabbie these past few days. We’ve still got a heap of bodies waiting to be taken away.”

  “I bet Henderson’s thrilled.”

  “I wouldn’t concern yourself with them. Four of them were rapists, and the rest were murderers.”

  “And what do you think I am, McAllister? I’m hardly a fucking saint.”

  “Look, you need to watch your back. It won’t be long before—”

  McAllister’s words were cut short by a distant agonised scream. The two men stared at each other before the pained outburst came again, louder than the last.

  “Now what’s he done?” McAllister groaned. He slammed the cell door and jogged to the end of the corridor.

  “What’s going on?” A voice called from one of the cells.

  “Sounds like someone’s finally had enough of that bastard cook.” Razor chuckled. Frank turned his ear to the door. The shrieks of pain were chilling. And the roars? They sounded more animal than human. He had no idea what was happening elsewhere in the prison, but the chaos seemed to be escalating. Then he heard the gunshots.

  ***

  McAllister jogged through the empty corridors as the sound of enveloping hysteria increased. He had no idea if the prisoners were rioting or if his colleagues were laying out some severe punishment. He rounded a corner, faced with a guard running towards him.

  “What’s going on?”

  “They’re killing each other!” the man yelled.

  “Have you phoned it in?”

  “There’s no response anywhere!” he shouted, sprinting past his colleague. “We’ve gotta get down there now.”

  With that, he rounded the corner and vanished from sight. McAllister went to follow, but curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. He looked back up the corridor towards the balcony overlooking the great hall. As more gunshots echoed around the large room, McAllister jogged towards the end of the corridor and looked down at the carnage below.

  He froze. Bodies were strewn all around the hall, with entrails and organs splayed across the prison floor. He had observed the cons fighting in this same spot, but not like this. Prisoners were running free, attacking each other as well as the guards. He watched dumbfounded as a group of cons overpowered one of his colleagues. The man screamed in agony as they burrowed deep into his gut. McAllister felt his body tremble. The crazed men chewed mightily as others lunged in, ripping organs from the man’s stomach.

  McAllister’s heart lurched as his roaming gaze fell upon one of the cons. Yesterday, he had seen the man sprawled on a gurney, dead. Now, he sprinted like an athlete, ripping the few surviving men to pieces.

  Movement in the corner of the room caught the guard’s eye. The corpse of one of his stricken colleagues began to rise. The gaping hole in his torso did not seem to trouble him as he got to his feet. McAllister felt nausea overpower him as the guard’s internal organs spilled from the huge crevice, hitting the floor with a soft splat. The zombie, seemingly unaware, looked around wild-eyed.

  McAllister turned and ran into the office overlooking the hall. He seized the phone and dialled ‘999’, his eyes fixed on the chaos below. He could barely hear the monotonous ring tone over the shrieks and wails of the prisoners. After the tenth ring, he slammed the handset down and scanned the printed list of contacts on the desk.

  A hand slapped the window in front of him, causing McAllister to flinch. He looked up, into the bloodshot of eyes of Andrew Hardy. The prisoner was still sporting the black eye and distorted nose administered by Frank Lee a few days earlier. The yawning hole in his neck was new. McAllister looked on, as strands of pink saliva spilled from the prisoner’s mouth. He regarded him with an evil grin before striking the glass again. McAllister stepped back as the man hurled himself forward. He feared the glass would break until the prisoner stopped in his tracks. His head snapped to the side as another con ran into the hallway.

  “Oh shit.” The newcomer whimpered as Hardy raced toward him. McAllister watched the man flee, with the deranged prisoner at his heels.

  “C’mon,” he whispered, running a finger over the list of names. He stopped on ‘National Operations Unit’ and quickly dialled the number. The ringtone sounded again as he looked back through the window. There was nobody else on the floor, with most of the screams originating from the lower levels. His hands trembled as the ringing tone continued to torment him. Eventually, he slammed the phone down.

  Cautiously, he stepped back out onto the walkway overlooking the great hall. He inspected the carnage once again, as somebody else joined the fray. The guard who had passed McAllister entered the room, looking around in terror as the last of the survivors was brought down. Before he had time to react, one of the cannibals had attacked, tearing a sizeable chunk from its hapless victim’s throat.

  “No!”

  McAllister looked on as blood gushed from the fatal wound. The crazed zombie paid him no heed and took a further bite. The rest of the congregation, however, stared up at McAllister. After a shriek of excitement, they raced through the open door and out of sight.

  “Shit!”

  He turned on his heel and sprinted back down the corridor, producing his baton as he went. There was no sign of the lunatics anywhere. He didn’t know what was happening, nor did he want to wait around to find out. He darted down a second corridor, with only one room in mind. He needed riot gear.

  ***

  Frank sighed in frustration. It had been several minutes since the last gunshot and they were still unaware of what was happening. Had the insurmountable force of the guards finally been beaten? Or had the rioting prisoners been put back in their place? The rants and speculations from the other cons didn’t help as Frank desperately strained his ears. He flinched as the prison gate leading into the corridor burst open. The cons fell silent as somebody approached the nearest cell. There was an urgency in the rattle of keys as Frank heard the first door swing open.

  “Get out!” McAllister ordered.

  Frank stepped back as more doors were opened. The guard was
making his way down the hallway, releasing every prisoner in confinement.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Gus Razor said as he left his cell.

  “We’ve gotta go.”

  Eventually, Frank’s door swung wide. He stared at the guard’s huge frame in the doorway. Decked out in full riot gear, McAllister’s ashen face was barely visible beneath his helmet. In one hand he held a ring full of keys, and in the other, a shotgun.

  “What’s happening?” Frank asked, exiting his cell and joining the other cons in the passageway. McAllister ignored the query as he searched his chain for the next key.

  “Hey, he asked you a question,” Razor snapped, grabbing the guard’s shoulder.

  “The prison has been compromised,” McAllister stammered, his wide eyes laced with fear. “Most of the guards are dead. Everyone’s ripping each other to pieces!”

  “Pull the other one.” Gus chuckled as the rest of the prisoners laughed.

  “It’s the truth, Razor!”

  “Bullshit,” he sneered. But the mocking tone had vanished from Razor’s voice.

  Frank remained silent. The guard’s sincerity concerned him. The idea seemed ludicrous, but watching the huge man tremble as he searched for the next key made him feel uneasy. A spirited shriek caused the men to whirl around.

  “Shit, they’re here,” McAllister gasped.

  “What the fuck was that?” Razor demanded. He took a step back as another screech filled the air.

  “I told you, we need to get out of here.”

  McAllister turned and opened the last cell as a wide-eyed guard lurched around the corner. His blood-spattered uniform was torn in several places, exposing gaping wounds to his abdomen. He quivered in excitement as he lurched towards the nearest prisoner.

  “What the f—” the man started, but his words were cut short as the guard dragged him to the ground.

  The group retreated to the back of the hallway as the zombie tore into its screaming victim. Blood sprayed the surrounding walls as it feasted, ending the dying man’s cries in seconds. Their fearful gasps caused the creature to look up. It jumped to its feet, observing the cowering group.

  “Get him, Tony!” Gus whimpered, shoving his bodyguard forward. The flesh-hungry guard ran at them with a piercing roar. Tony grabbed the man, slamming his head against the wall. The attacker snarled before the man-mountain struck again, his giant hand clamping around the guard’s head. The sound of cracking skull echoed around the room as he smashed it against the brickwork. A final crunch accompanied the man’s eyeballs launching from his head. The organs sprung out from their sockets like a grisly jack-in-the-box, dangling by maroon optic nerves. The eyeballs swung as the giant hurled the corpse aside.

  “Good boy.”

  Gus approached the disfigured corpse. Brain matter and skull fragments oozed out of the eye sockets. With a look of disgust, Razor turned back to McAllister.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you shoot the bastard?”

  “These are only rubber bullets,” the guard snapped. “I’d need a point-blank shot to do any serious damage.”

  “Then why don’t you put live rounds in there?”

  “This isn’t an army base you prick. These are only used for crowd control.”

  “Well, I’d feel better if we tried to escape with real bullets,”

  A guttural groaning from the entrance of the hallway caught Frank’s attention. He looked on as the body of his fellow inmate began to twitch.

  “Is he still alive?” Frank asked.

  “No,” McAllister replied. “He’s one of them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’ve seen it happen already. You die, and then you come back as one of them. Haven’t you seen a zombie film?”

  McAllister made his way over to the downed man with the rest of the prisoners in tow. Frank eyed the twitching prisoner curiously.

  “This isn’t a fucking film,” Razor said.

  They stopped close to the dead inmate as McAllister aimed the shotgun at his head. The presence of the men sent the prisoner into a rage. He jumped onto all fours and eyed them hungrily. A high-pitched growl barely escaped his mouth before McAllister pulled the trigger. The man’s head smashed against the floor, causing his body to convulse. The men watched in a trance until the twitching subsided.

  “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

  “Yeah? And go where?” Frank asked.

  “We’re evacuating, Lee. It’s standard procedure.”

  “There’s nothing standard about this, McAllister.” Frank looked back at the two dead bodies. “How do we know the same thing isn’t happening outside? There could be an army of them out there.”

  “Speaking of the army, where the hell are they?” Craddock asked, scratching his beard. “There’s a base twenty miles away. Last time we rioted, you called them in!”

  “This isn’t a riot!” McAllister snapped. “This is… something else. Besides, it’s been vacant for the last couple of months now.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, they’ve sent loads more troops out to the Middle East. It’s left most of the garrisons in the country short-staffed. The one nearby is empty as far as I know.”

  Another distant screech reached Frank’s ears.

  “Look, can we get the hell out of here?” The Polish prisoner asked, motioning for the men to move.

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Zielinski.” Razor chortled as he pushed past the inmate. “C’mon McAllister, you’re leading!”

  The guard made his way through the prisoners until he reached the front.

  “It’ll take about five minutes to get out.” He told them. “Keep an eye out for any of those freaks. If anyone attacks, kill them without thinking twice.”

  “We’re murderers,” Zielinski said. “It’s what we do.”

  With that, they followed McAllister as he led the men out of the confinement area. Frank followed at the rear of the procession. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect to be evacuated. Never in his wildest nightmares did he consider the reasoning behind it.

  11

  “You think they’re gonna use the lift?” Amy asked. They stared at the illuminated figures above the elevator. It was on the ground floor.

  “I’m not sure,” Ben replied.

  The carriage had been there for almost a minute, with no indication of moving. The trio stared at the screen in silence until Ben spoke again.

  “You still didn’t tell us how you got here.” He frowned, turning to Terry.

  “What?”

  “Earlier when you were telling us how you got here. You climbed down the lift shaft?”

  “Who cares? I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like how the hell we’re gonna get out.”

  “I care. If there’s another way those things can get in, I want to know about it.”

  “I pried open the doors on the fifth floor and looked to see where the lift was. Luckily, it was trapped on this floor so I just lowered myself on top of it, and slipped in through the hatch.”

  “But if the dead are coming back to life, weren’t you scared of the body in the lift?” Amy asked.

  “I thought about it. But I figured the longer I wait, the more time the guy has to come back to life. So I went for it.”

  “Now all three of us are stuck,” Ben said.

  “So what do you suggest we do now?” Terry retorted, turning on Ben once more. “We have no way of getting out of here and we’re surrounded by zombies.”

  “Well, there are only two ways off this floor. We can either call the lift or take our chances down the staircase.”

  Amy didn’t favour either option.

  “Don’t be stupid.” Terry spat. “Both will get us killed. We can go down in the lift and die, or, we could take the stairs and die.”

  “You got any other ways off this floor?”

  “Yeah. We can break a window and climb down a drainpipe.”

  Ben burst ou
t laughing. “Now I know you’re kidding. That might work for Amy, but I doubt the plastic drainpipes could support your fat arse.”

  “Fine!” Terry snapped. “Then let’s just stay here and starve to death. Either that, or we could resort to a bit of cannibalism; those guys seem to like it!”

  “Sounds good to me! Why don’t we start by eating you, you fat bastard. You could keep us going for weeks!”

  “Stop!” Amy yelled, jumping between the two men who had almost come to blows. “We need to think clearly, otherwise we’re going to end up killing each other.”

  “That’s fine by me,” Terry said. “It looks like it’s survival of the fittest anyway.”

  He paced over to the elevator and pressed the call button. Amy watched the illuminated figures increase as Ben strode over to him.

  “Survival of the fittest? You won’t last five minutes on your own.”

  A prompt ding announced the elevator’s arrival. The doors slid open.

  “We’ll see.”

  Terry turned to enter the carriage, only to be grabbed by the eviscerated corpse they had disposed of earlier. Ben jumped back in surprise as the zombie seized Terry.

  “Help!” he stammered, struggling against the creature’s grasp. Ben lunged forward, pushing the eager corpse away from its victim. In a fit of rage, the snarling attacker whirled around. It ran at Ben, but was met with a forceful right-hook, sending it reeling into the wall. It collapsed in a heap.

  “You got the fucker,” Terry gasped, rushing over to the downed corpse. He booted it in the head.

  “Terry, stop,” Ben said, but the warning fell on deaf ears as the man continued to stamp on the corpse.

  “Try to bite me?” He snarled through kicks.

  “Get away from it!”

  Finally, as the sound of cracking bones rose from the corpse, Terry ceased his brutal assault. Breathing heavily, he turned back towards the pair.

  “Why? I had to make sure it was dead.”

  “We don’t know what kills these things.”