The major felt relief that his responsibility for the centre was drawing to a close. Wellworth wasn’t over, the world was. His men and the civilians were fleeing to nowhere, hoping for something better than this. It wasn’t any more foolish than waiting for help that wouldn’t come, surrounded by the hungry dead as you yourself starve to death. Soon it’d just be him and those condemned souls in the lab.
“Someone needs to stay here. Deal with those poor bastards and close the gate after you all fuck off,” he said. Getting Kenneth out had been hard enough with a group of soldiers creating the distraction. On his own, it would be nearly impossible. A few petrol bombs were created, and the major kept a rifle and a single thirty-round magazine to give them the cover they’d need. It was important they got away safely. His future, and that of Wellworth, had already been decided. It was how it ended that was still up in the air. He’d rather the centre’s integrity was maintained, in case one day reinforcements came looking for the research, but the lives of the survivors were his priority.
Several of the soldiers made their way to space between the two fences, the familiar pieces of rebar, and started clearing some creatures. Any creatures killed would help, but there were always more. Wellworth seemed to attract them, despite its location. The major wandered over to the three captives. Tara and two male civilians. Their skin was pale and greying, they were skin and bone bodies dusted with a mist of perspiration. The two men had a frightened look in their eyes, they weren’t as far along. Tara was angry, she was barely human. They knew Chris had been infected first. His relationship with Tara was known by enough for her to be quarantined, and soon enough her other surviving partners were separated and secured. Nobody felt confident that these three were the only ones infected outside of the sealed lab. Now they would be more observant, they may survive together but they didn’t trust one another.
“I’m sorry about what’s going to happen, I don’t expect you to like it. I don’t. But there are too many of those things out there, I can’t let another three into the world,” said the major. The creatures on the other side of the fences could smell the major, his aroma teased them. Tara tried to speak, to force her gag away from her mouth, but she wasn’t successful. “It’s better that you don’t talk, it won’t change anything. It’ll be quick and painless, and it won’t be that existence for you,” he continued. The major looked out to the feeders. They were monsters in every sense of the word. All desperate to taste his flesh, the desire driving them into a frenzy. Their appearance growing more grotesque by the day.
“Sir, we’ll be shipping out shortly,” Liam told him, he was embarrassed, but he needn’t have been. He received a gentle pat on the back by the major.
“It’s okay. We did everything we could. You might be the only healthy humans left in the country, look after yourselves. Get some supplies, get somewhere remote, and stay there,” he said and allowed himself a smile. They had a tough road ahead, but there was a chance, which was more than they’d have here.
The soldiers thinning the numbers on the fence withdrew. Their work was brief and reasonably efficient. Every crumbled creature oozing grey blood from a head wound was one who would not be trying to force their way through the gates.
The major made his way to the vehicles as the last of the civilians entered. Several soldiers readied their rifles and looked to the major for one last order.
“Open fire!” he screamed it so loudly everyone flinched before they started firing.
They began clearing the creatures closest to the gate and working further away, concentrating on the left side of the gate. The major lit the first Molotov and tossed it to the left side of the gate. Several creatures almost screamed in pain as they burned. The major set light to the second and threw it in the same direction further down. More feeders stumbled in flames, unable to see or comprehend what was happening. The left side was looking clear for close to thirty-feet. He threw the last petrol bomb to the right side, creating a short tunnel of fire for the vehicles to escape through. The soldiers stopped firing and all but two jumped into the vehicles.
They opened the first gate and stood by the second. The major joined them, firing at the closest creatures on the right-hand side of the gate, walking close to the fence. He pulled his sleeve up and produced a knife before digging the blade in deeply and drawing down an inch as the thick red blood ran down. “Come and get it you gruesome fucks!”
The scent of the blood captured the attention of all of those creatures closest to him and several further back. They climbed over each other to keep up with him as he moved further away from the gate, flicking the monsters with his blood, increasing their lust for his flesh.
The outer gate was clear, the soldier threw it open, and the cars drove off at pace. The last one exited, the soldier closed the gate and quickly jumped in before a feeder could get close.
It was a successful evacuation.
The major held his wound and applied pressure and he slowly walked back towards the gate. It was shut, the slide engaged, but it wasn’t locked. He didn’t see the need to use the cumbersome lock. Those things couldn’t use the simple slide bolt. If any of the living were still out there they were welcome to come in and enjoy the running water and electricity as they starved to death.
He closed the second gate and slid the bolt into place before approaching the captives. The scent of his blood was driving Tara crazy. She writhed on the floor, desperate to free herself so she might have a taste. The other two were interested but didn’t appear as desperate as Tara.
He didn’t say a word as he approached. In a single quick movement he shouldered the rifle, pulling the trigger three times, striking each of the bound infected in the head with a single shot each. The bodies were still; they were at peace.
The major looked down at his arm, he’d cut a little too deep in his eagerness to get the job done. If he had the time, it would have healed nicely, but he didn’t. He had a few bits of admin to do before he could have his sit down. Tara didn’t weigh much before she was infected. After a few days, her emaciated form was easy to drag one handed. He wasn’t taking them far, just twenty feet further away.
The two men were more of a struggle, but he wasn’t in a rush, taking a few minutes’ break when he needed. With all three bodies stacked on each other, the major doused them with petrol from an unused Molotov and set the pile alight. He stepped back as the flesh sizzled as the fire took hold.
Chapter 8
The major looked out from the director’s office to the grounds below. Overnight more of the dead had turned up to the fences, replacing their fallen comrades. His arm was sore, but he’d applied a dressing to stop the bleeding. He took a swig of whiskey and told himself it was for the pain, but he was numbing more than just a wound to his arm. Today was the day, he’d do a quick sweep of the grounds, check in on the lab and then take his seat. He picked up his rifle, checked his pistol and made his way out of the building.
When he emerged from the building, the creatures on the other side of the fence caught his scent and groaned. He didn’t pay them any attention, there was no need. He checked on the charred corpses. They still smouldered in the early morning chill as he heaped a few shovelfuls of dirt on top of them. His sore arm felt every ounce of earth as he made sure it covered the bodies. He knew he had to show respect to these poor souls but looked on at the dead heaped around the outside of the fence and appreciated it was a hollow gesture. There was no longer enough living to bury the dead.
He didn’t rush as he walked the perimeter, occasionally tempted to take a shot at the more gruesome creatures drooling in his direction. He knew it would be a waste, plenty more where they came from, and the few rounds he had in his rifle might find a better use one day. The fences looked good, they wouldn’t be coming down anytime soon. At the gates, further charred bodies were on the floor, with more feeders, many sporting their own burns, standing over their fallen comrades. He gave the gates a quick check; they were secure, but
he left them unlocked. Maybe the men would come back, maybe Kenneth would turn up with a hundred of Her Majesty’s finest. If that was the case he wouldn’t want them stuck outside with those stinking bastards.
Everything was in order, and the major smiled. He had failed, but Wellworth was at least secure. If nothing else, his men had thinned out a few hundred of the dead and attracted thousands more, every one of them clawing at the fence was one not attacking a survivor elsewhere. He entered the building. There was one last duty to undertake.
Two filing cabinets, an office desk and a myriad of random junk had been stacked against it the doors. A bicycle lock had been added to the belt securing the double doors shut. Nothing was getting out. He peered through the reinforced glass window. At some point, those who sought shelter in the freezer had let themselves out. As they changed they no longer feared the monsters in the main lab, they wanted out; they wanted to eat. Their humanity left them. They now either wandered aimlessly or stood still, looking through the window back at the major.
It was his failure. Wellworth stood, but it was a hollow victory. The victims entombed in the lab testified to that. The major made his way up to the office.
He set down the rifle and turned on the radio where a message played on a loop. He had heard it hundreds of times in the last few days. They were alone; they had been abandoned. Empty promises that were too late. He poured himself a whiskey and took an appreciative sip. The centre was in order. It was time to sit down.
The major scribbled a brief note and downed the remaining whiskey. He paused for a moment then pulled his Glock from his holster, chambered a round and without giving himself enough time to change his mind, he placed the tip of the barrel under his chin and pulled the trigger. The top of his head erupted covering ceiling, wall and window with brain, skull and blood spray.
This pistol dropped to the floor, and the major slumped in his chair.
Chapter 9
Peter held the Glock pistol as he stood over the major’s body. He hadn’t been dead more than a day. It was a tragedy that wasn’t lost on Peter; he had nearly performed the same permanent act when he found himself alone without hope. He looked at the pistol; the idea washed over him; he wasn’t that man anymore. He’d come too far and seen too much. He walked around the office, admired the whiskey, noted the pictures on the wall, but the rifle took his attention. It was just like Amy’s. He had seen her handle her rifle, enough at least to check the ammunition, engage the safety and pull the trigger. With the few rounds it had left and the pistol, he felt empowered to explore the facility.
It felt even more like any other mundane building as he walked through the empty offices, meeting rooms and storage areas. For a secret lab, it lacked labs. Apart from the large main one he’d already seen secured with the dead inside, there wasn’t anything of that level. He found three smaller labs, empty of equipment and personnel. They hadn’t been in use for months. The canteen was a relief to discover.
It was small enough for maybe forty people to enjoy a basic lunch, but it was plenty big enough for him. The kitchen was appropriately sized, decked out with the latest in cooking equipment. The large refrigerators were empty, the freezer had a solitary bag of frozen peas and dozens of bags of ice. Something he could at least put with the whiskey.
The cupboards had a little more in them, tins of meat, tomatoes and more vegetables. Peter smiled to himself as he removed a tin of sweetcorn. Of course. He wasn’t sure how long he could make the food last, if he was careful.
He spent hours wandering the facility, forcing open lockers and drawers, eager to find anything that may be useful. He had always found digging through people’s belongings a grubby activity and now was no different. Family photos and precious keepsakes reminded him of what the world had lost, but medication and the occasional chocolate bar or cup-a-soup made it a worthwhile endeavour. By the time he had jimmied open his last drawer, he had a good supply of paracetamol and high calorie treats, a few changes of clothes but little else.
He decided against looking at the outbuildings that day. It looked like he’d be here for a long time and had what he needed to get going. He made use of one of the emergency showers in an empty laboratory and discarded his bloodstained clothing. He made use of the clinically clean toilets and found a small office which he decided would be perfect to sleep in, a single sturdy door that could be reinforced with furniture allowing him to sleep with a degree of safety. With a little food, the weapons and a clean set of clothes he made himself at home, it was still light outside, but he was in little doubt he’d sleep through until morning. He lay on the hard floor and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly.
Chapter 10
Amy looked back across the rundown room at Kenneth, before she lowered herself from the window. And then he was alone. Just the snarling beasts trying to reach him and the bloody corpse on the floor. He fired at the creatures, but within seconds they were in the house and making their way up the stairs. The door was barricaded but rotten wood wouldn’t last long and he had only a few rounds left. The small stash of weapons in the corner were basic knives and bats; a large butcher’s knife would be his best bet, razor sharp and a large twelve-inch blade. With only one hand, he didn’t have the energy or coordination to fight off the monsters for long. A big sharp knife seemed his best bet to at least hurt a few of them.
They were angry. That bitch Natasha had really riled them up. They began clawing at the door, their nails digging away at the weak timber. Kenneth’s time was running out. He fired the last few rounds at the feeders on the other side of the door, then his rifle clicked confirming it was empty. He stepped back, trying to give himself space from the imminent attack, but stopped as he nearly tripped over Gareth’s corpse. He looked at the body, at his own dismembered hand on the floor and then the knife. Maybe it wasn’t over.
He bent over and swung the blade down hard on Gareth’s arm. The knife dug in deep, but he had to continue hacking at it before it popped off. Kenneth wasn’t squeamish, he’d seen dismembered bodies, but he’d never butchered a one himself. It was a deeply unpleasant task, but he got on with it and started on the other limbs and then Gareth’s head. In a few minutes he had created a pile of body parts. The first hand punched through a panel in the door, and then a second one competed with it, desperately grabbing at the air, hoping to catch hold of a handful of flesh. More thuds and scratches confirmed the number of creatures were continuing to grow.
They were close to breaking through. Kenneth dragged the torso to the window. The weight was surprising, but his weakness and only having one hand made it harder than it should have been. With all his might, he flopped the body out of the window. The thud and the blood attracted the closest creatures, others joined sensing a meal was available.
Those at the door didn’t relent, the spilled blood from the pile of body parts did little to calm them. The creatures pulled apart a panel and Kenneth could see their furious faces, grey skin, chipped teeth and the red blood of their prey. He picked up his own dismembered hand and tossed it through the gap. The feeders on the other side greedily fought amongst themselves for it, with only one remaining at the door. It was easy pushing the large sharp blade into its skull. It slumped to the floor and Kenneth readied himself for the next customer, who was already clambering over the downed monster for its turn. Kenneth obliged.
They had stripped his severed hand of almost all of its flesh. The mob was already back at the door and again making quick work of the damaged wood. Kenneth couldn’t hope to take them out one by one, feeding them morsels of Gareth. He had to make his move. He shoved Gareth’s right leg through the door and again they fought each other to get the first taste. He didn’t have much time. He checked the back window, Amy and Peter were already out of sight. A few stragglers were following, leaving the back of the house clear. Kenneth threw another arm through the door, then the remaining parts out of the front window. Any feeder not filling themselves with meat was jostling for posit
ion to do so.
He tossed the knife out of the back window; it landed blade first into the ground. He grabbed a bottle of water and dropped that from the window before following himself. He hit the ground with a crunch. He was sure he hadn’t broken anything, but his ankle was stiff with a sharp pain. The water bottle shoved under one arm, he retrieved the knife and headed away from the house. Nothing pursued him, but he couldn’t move fast enough to relax. He hoped to see a glimpse of Amy or Peter, but knew he’d bump into their pursuers long before he would catch up with them.
As the house became smaller in the distance, his head throbbed. He looked at his stump; the bandage was soaked through. He had to sit, just for a moment. Everything spun and he couldn’t so much as sit up straight. He’d got out of the house, he had evaded the creatures, but now he was going to pass out in the middle of a field and he didn’t know if he’d ever wake again. He couldn’t sit up any longer. He fell onto his back and stared at the sky as it swirled uncontrollably and then everything went black.
Seconds, minutes or even hours could have passed, and Kenneth had no idea. His delirium interrupted by a muffled voice. Then another. He couldn’t recognise them, he couldn’t even think straight. He could feel himself being moved, being dragged across the uneven terrain. It didn’t hurt, everything was becoming numb, his stump, his ankle. Then he didn’t care anymore. The voices became a high-pitched whine as they merged into one sound. And then he was out cold.
Chapter 11
St. Joseph’s primary school was in the small village of Nutwood, a village that was easily ignored by those who bypassed it or drove through on the way to somewhere larger. The village had been robbed of its post office and the local pub had barely stayed afloat. The school had been constantly under threat of closure, funding cuts and low pupil intake had increased the pressure, and if not for its links to the church, it would have gone long ago. Despite the financial help offered by the dioceses, had society not fallen, it would probably have closed before the next school year. It had educated the young from the village and the surrounding areas for over one-hundred years. They had supplemented its original stone structures over the years with additional, more modern buildings that ill-suited the look of the original building or the neighbouring church. The perimeter comprised a formidable old stone wall and a modern, secure gate, a damning indictment of the path society had taken where the youngest and most vulnerable needed protecting from the outside world. When people started eating each other, that protection served a newer, more vital cause. The villagers supported each other, and the school became the perfect sanctuary to protect them. With their remote location and pooled resources, they had been relatively untouched by the chaos and destruction the more densely populated areas had experienced. Fifteen people had made the school their home, a few elderly, some children and everything in between. They had declined the invitation by the military to join them at one of the rescue camps, deciding instead to look after themselves, as the village had always tried to do.
Deadweight | Book 2 | The Last Bite Page 3