Deadweight

by Forster, Paul

  The gates weren't locked, some secure government research site this was. Peter swung open the latch and slid the door open just wide enough from him to squeeze through before closing it quickly. It wouldn't take much for one or two to take an interest, get inside and make the whole site uninhabitable. The bright lights did little for Peter's sore head, but he could see the layout. It looked bigger now he was inside. Shell cases were scattered around but no blood, no signs of them having breached the fence.

  “Hello, I'm not dead. I'm human!” Peter screamed as loud as he could, hoping for a response. “I'm a normal boring human.” He whispered to himself.

  He walked to the front of the main building. The doors opened automatically, and he stepped in. The lights began to illuminate as he approached them revealing a plain building, one that was more likely to house an accountancy firm than a secret government research centre. Peter couldn't help but feel a twang of disappointment, lack of people was one thing, but this was just an office building. It appeared little different from where he had worked. Where was all the bleeding edge technology, the elite soldiers, the scientists? He wandered down the hallway and noticed the security office. He knocked gently, then again harder after no answer. He tried the handle and slowly pushed the door open.

  The office had two large banks of monitors showing live feeds from cameras dotted around the site. Peter started searching the desks and cupboards, there must be guns or at the very least a chocolate bar or packet of cheese and onion crisps. Besides an array of pens, paper clips, and a novelty stapler, there was nothing. Peter turned his attention to the monitors, most showed either empty rooms or the floodlit outside areas, but two were a little more interesting. The first marked as ‘Director's office’, a lone figure sat at a desk, the second labelled ‘Research Lab 1’ several people appeared to be working away. Peter moved closer with a smile, the relief swept over him. Thank fuck. He rushed to the corridor, the lab was on the first floor, the office on the second. He jogged to the stairs eager to see his new companions, he bound up the steps with a vigor he hadn't felt in a long time, he got to the lab and his face dropped.

  The double doors were barricaded with several large pieces of furniture rammed against them, two military webbed belts helped to fasten them shut. As he approached, he could see through the reinforced glass, maybe twenty feeders in white coats and army fatigues, some stood still, others shuffled aimlessly. Wellworth hadn't escaped the carnage that had afflicted everywhere else. There was still the figure in the office, but Peter had lost the skip in his step. He exited the stairwell on the second floor and he could hear the radio, it was muffled but became clearer as he approached.

  “God bless. This is an official government announcement. It is with great regret that we have had to abandon these Great British Isles. All military forces have been withdrawn, civilians evacuated and an interim government formed. If you remain on the mainland, survive, we will return and we will take back our land from the dead. We are not alone. You are not alone, our thoughts and prayers are with you, God bless. This is an official government announcement…”

  Peter arrived at the office, the door was open and sat in the chair was a man in an officer's uniform. The life was drained from his face, pale and distressed. A small wound under his chin and a large splash of blood and brain matter had evacuated through a large hole at the top of his head spreading a crimson mess against the wall and ceiling. Peter approached, in front of the major, a journal, two Glock magazines and a note with a simple message. “We tried, but you failed us. Sorry. Fuck you.” The repeated radio message began to irk him and he switched it off before he picked up the pistol from the floor, it was surprisingly free of gore. Not so long ago, the scene would have horrified him, it was a sign of the times that a corpse that didn't move didn't freak him out, it was better that than the alternative. He pocketed the journal and with the bravery a 9mm pistol can offer, he carried on searching the facility.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  DAWN WAS BREAKING, a lone song bird was brave enough to sing on its own. Natasha was on her back in the middle of the field looking up towards the sky. She had been conscious for ten minutes, any movement resulted in a dull pain throbbing through her body. They continued to shuffle past her, the feeders that had followed Amy and gave up made their way back to Wellworth to resume their haunting. She had to move, she couldn't stay there forever, if she would die, it wouldn't be in some shitty field in East Sussex. The two exit wounds had developed a new rubbery skin, it was still thin and tender but it was better than a gaping hole. She threw herself onto her knees and climbed to her feet wincing with pain. She hadn't felt this bad since she changed. Where to go? She looked across at Wellworth. She was in no shape to fight and there could be a hundred armed squaddies in there. Her car wasn't too far away, she could drive and find somewhere to rest, food was unlikely but not an impossibility. The car was still there, the engine started at the first attempt to her relief. Natasha was alone, tired, hungry, and injured. The car pulled away slowly, no need to rush. She followed the road and began to feel dizzy.

  The country road required more concentration than she could spare as the car drifted all over the tarmac. Natasha gave it everything she had to focus but within half an hour she couldn't do it anymore. The car was barely going fifteen miles per hour when it left the road and hit a tree. The airbag deployed sparing Natasha from further damage. She flung the door open and rolled out of the car, the engine was visible from under the crumpled bonnet, smoke escaped displaying it was now a useless chunk of metal. She crawled on her hands and knees, surely this was it she thought and perhaps even wished. Her vision was failing, she felt exceptionally weak, but the pain had nearly gone. Just a little further.

  “Are you okay there, miss?” A friendly male voice enquired.

  Natasha rolled onto her back and tried to focus on this potential meal. “Jeez, you look in a bad way. Are you human, feeder or other?” Natasha couldn't make out his face, no point in lying now she'd be dead soon.

  “Other.” She couldn't see him smile but he did.

  “And there was me thinking I was the only one. You look like you could do with a meal.” He gently picked her up.

  “My place isn't too far, you'll feel better with some fresh meat in your belly and we'll get you sorted.” He was kind, Natasha was relieved and so grateful, she may have been a monster but she didn't want to die and appreciated this act of kindness.

  “Thank you, I'm Natasha.”

  “You're welcome Natasha, my name is William Johnson.”

  *

  The house was a small cottage, isolated but quite idyllic. Inside it was much bigger than it appeared. Natasha was gently placed on a sofa as William rushed out to emerge moments later with a bowl of flesh.

  “That will get you some strength back, take it easy. There's plenty more where that came from.”

  Natasha reached in and grabbed a handful of meat shovelling it into her mouth with strength that had been absent since she had been shot.

  “Easy, I have a whole cellar full of the good stuff.” She could feel her body getting stronger, her eyesight sharpened and the mind regained a degree of clarity.

  “There you go. It's a good thing you ran into me. I don't think you had much longer, but you're safe now. Here with me.” Finally she could get a good look at her saviour. William was athletic, in his late thirties and reasonably good looking.

  “Thank you. I don't know how to repay you.” Natasha was genuinely thankful and intrigued.

  “The fact you exist is all I need, I'm not alone. I'm not the only one of my kind. We are the next step. Stronger than the ordinary people, we're extraordinary. Smarter than those moronic drones.” William was going full stride.

  “What about the big ones?”

  “I'd say we're smarter, we're definitely more mobile. However, I've only seen one. Interesting, I wonder how many more subspecies have emerged.” William drifted off into thought at the prospect.


  “So you're set up here?”

  William let out a boastful smile. “Plenty of fresh food, a generator with enough fuel to see through several winters in comfort and none of mindless feeders can get in to ruin any of if.”

  “Fresh food?”

  William led Natasha through to the kitchen, she was steadier but still not one hundred percent. He opened an unassuming door in the corner and turned on a light, a narrow staircase led down to the cellar. It was dark, a single fluorescent tube struggled to illuminate the space and there they were. At least fifteen people of all ages chained to the wall, they cowered in fear as William came into view.

  “Impressive.” Natasha spoke softly, and it was.

  “I've helped rescue these poor souls from the uncertainty of the new world. I feed them.” William motioned to a large supply of military rations and tinned food. “Protect them from being ripped apart by the mindless monsters and they feed me.” This time he motioned to a girl in her late twenties with her right leg amputated below the knee and her left arm below the elbow. He was insane, but brilliant. He really did have it all worked out. She felt like a moron for driving around hoping to stumble across a survivor or two. This was how it was done, farm, don't hunt. Less energy expended and a much more reliable source of sustenance.

  “This is a wonderful place, you're very lucky.” It wasn't luck, it was hard work and planning they both knew it.

  “You can be lucky too. Stay for little or long time. This place could use the touch of a beautiful woman.”

  “Maybe I will.” Natasha was falling in love with the idea of settling down.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  AMY HAD BEEN retracing her journey as best she could but she knew she was getting close. The car finally gave up its last drop of fuel and glided to a halt. She didn't have much, an empty rifle, a cleaver and her remaining few scraps of supplies but it didn't matter. She just wanted to see the friendly faces back at the farm. If they weren't there or had been killed, that would probably be it for Amy, life would be a pointless struggle alone. Some local landmarks looked familiar and then she saw the woods, where Natasha had seemingly rescued them.

  “Nearly there.” Amy told herself.

  The horde that had emerged had long since gone, at least they had managed to lead this murderous mob away from the farm. Just a few corpses indicated they had ever been there. Cautiously she walked through the woods, not a sign of life or the feeders. As she broke through to the field, she could make out the house.

  “A bit further.” she repeated.

  The field seemed so big, each step appeared to make little difference to her progress and the farm seemed no closer. She pulled herself together, ready for the worst and hoping for the best.

  “Come on, it’s close.” Amy tried again to keep herself going.

  Finally, she was close enough to make out figures. She pleaded in her head for them to be her people and not the dead.

  “It’s fine, it'll be fine.”

  As she approached the boundary, she could see the defences were being worked on by new faces, a handful of tents were pitched in the grounds. And she saw Bo. Waving with a big smile, Babs by his side as people worked busily around them. She couldn't stop herself from crying. They were all okay, she wasn't alone, and it wasn't all over. They had a community and others would come, good and bad. But together there would be a chance.