by Frank Tayell
“No. Not here, at least,” Tom said.
“Then I don’t want to talk about him, I don’t want to think about him. Not here. Not now. I just want a few moments to remember a friend before the work of the day truly begins.”
Tom stood in silence by the grave, looking at the dirt he’d helped shovel over Helena’s wrapped body. Hers wasn’t the only new addition to the old cemetery. Eight other markers had joined the moss-covered stones of the graveyard, all victims of the brief gunfight that had followed Powell’s arrival. There was a ninth grave, this one in the far corner. It had been dug a little deeper, and it would never be marked. There had been a fiery debate about what to do regarding the bodies of Powell and his cronies. Burying them was more efficient than burning them, and less problematic than dumping the corpses with those of the undead. Nevertheless, their presence in the cemetery was a source of resentment for those who’d lost someone when Powell’s men had opened fire. And that resentment was focused on Tom. He didn’t care.
Yesterday, after an hour had gone by with no more zombies seen on the road, he’d gone to collect the remaining M16s and ammunition from his cottage. They were sorely needed. The defense of the village had depleted their stores of ammo. He’d found eight zombies lingering along the track between the road and the cottage. He’d killed them, hacking them to pieces with the bowie knife. When they were dead, he stalked the perimeter of the house, looking for more. Finding none, he’d started walking north. It was five miles before he’d found one.
The zombie was crawling along the road on broken legs, managing less than a hundred yards an hour. He’d stood twenty feet away, watching its mouth gape open, its teeth snap against each other, its hand curl and flex, and then he’d shot it. He’d stood there as its blood congealed, uncertain whether he wanted another horde to appear. It wasn’t that he wished for death, not exactly. He wanted an end to his quest, but Powell’s last words had robbed him of that. The man might have been speaking simply to distract Tom, but there might have been some truth hidden in the words. In which case the new life he’d thought he might have in Crossfields Landing would have to wait, as his old one wasn’t yet done with him. He’d walked back to the cottage he would never call home, more weary than before.
He’d taken the rifles and ammo back to the village, and then returned for the server. Not wanting to face the grim messages of farewell in the videos, he’d given it to Jimmy to do with as he would.
Kaitlin turned away from the grave. Tom followed her out of the cemetery.
“I’m going to Jimmy’s,” Kaitlin said. “And then I’ve got to check on the sentries. What about you?”
“I’m still not sure,” Tom said, though he was answering a very different question than the one she’d asked. He followed her to the restaurant.
In one corner, the tables had been pushed aside. The server sat atop one, a trio of computers were plugged into it. Jimmy stared at the screens, headphones balanced over one ear, a strangely serene expression on his face. He glanced up as they entered.
“There’s some good ideas here,” he said. Each of the three displays showed different people in different videos, though there was a commonality to their resolute expressions. “Homemade napalm, for one.”
“We tried setting fire to the zombies at the motel,” Tom said. “I’m not sure whether it harmed them, but the building burned down.”
“No, I meant for destroying the bodies,” Jimmy said. “We’ll have to take care of those before we can think of farming.”
“Right. Sure,” Tom muttered. Kaitlin headed into the kitchen. He walked over to the table and picked up the tablet he’d found in Powell’s pocket. It hadn’t been damaged, but it was locked.
“Any luck with the code?” he asked.
“There’s a password,” Jimmy said, glancing briefly up before returning his attention to the screens. “Not just a number, but an actual word. Any ideas what it could be?”
“Not a clue,” Tom said.
“Then no, there’s no way of getting it open,” Jimmy said. “So forget about it. It won’t help, but this might. This is the third video I’ve found where someone says they were bitten but haven’t turned.”
“Does she show you the bite marks?” Tom asked. “Does she say how long ago she was infected?”
“No.”
“Then don’t believe it,” Tom said. “You don’t want to bet your life on someone else’s desperate hopes.” He walked over to the window from where he could see the bay. His own boat was down there, but Martha’s large schooner was gone. She’d taken it north, scouting for a location to which they could flee should more zombies come. She’d asked if he wanted to go with her. He wished he’d said yes, but he had a decision to make. He could easily see himself taking on one task and then another, putting it off until so much time had passed that the decision was made by default.
“If you’re not busy, you should make yourself useful,” Jimmy said.
“Sure. Of course. How can I help?”
“There’s always the washing up,” Jimmy said.
He went into the kitchen and began attacking the pans, but soon stopped with one only half scrubbed. He stared at the water, trying to discern some clue as to which path he should now take.
“I’ve found it!” Jimmy yelled.
“He found it,” Andy said, carefully placing the pot he’d been drying on the shelf. Tom followed the hulking young man out into the restaurant.
“Found what?” Tom asked.
“How it began,” Jimmy said, excited. “The zombies! The outbreak!”
“Let me see,” Tom said.
Jimmy pressed play. Tom watched. He froze. He understood. “Play it again.” But he didn’t need to watch it all. “There. Stop it.”
“You said there was a woman with Addison when you were captured,” Jimmy said. “Is that her?”
“No. No, it’s not,” Tom said. “I don’t know her, but I know that man. Where did you find this video?”
“It was in an email. Here.” He showed Tom.
“That was sent to Farley on the day of the outbreak. I completely forgot about it,” Tom said. “It came from an NSA account. It doesn’t say who sent it.”
“It has to be whoever went into the room and found the camera,” Jimmy said. “Who’s the man?”
Tom didn’t reply. He went back through the files, looking at one, then the next, then moving onto others that he’d found, copied, and stolen long ago. Everything made sense now.
“What’s going on?” Kaitlin asked, coming back into the restaurant.
“I’ve found how it began,” Jimmy said. “There’s a video.”
“Show me,” Kaitlin said.
“Yeah. Sure. It’s here.” Tom set it to play. “Jimmy, those satellite images you were playing around with, I need to see them. I need to see if a place still exists.”
“Why? Where?”
“Just get the thing set up.”
It took three hours during which the restaurant filled up as people came in to watch, and then stayed to watch the video again and again.
“There,” Jimmy said. “That’s it.”
“Are you sure?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, those are the co-ordinates you gave me. It looks like an airfield. What’s there?”
“I think, no, I’m sure, I’m absolutely certain that is the facility where the virus was created,” Tom said.
“You are? How do you know?”
“There’s another file. Another video. Not a recent one. In it there’s a scientist. The guy who created it.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” Tom walked over to the laptop where the footage of patient zero was being replayed for the sixtieth time. When he reached over to press pause, there was an instant uproar. He backed away. It didn’t matter. He knew what was on that video. He knew it was the same man, the same scientist in both. He left the restaurant. He wasn’t walking anywhere in particular, but found himself heading toward the
barricade. Jonas and Naomi were on sentry duty.
“What’s wrong?” Jonas asked.
“There’s a video,” Tom said. “From my server. It shows how it began. Literally. The first zombie. Patient zero. Everything. The people who were there and why. Go and see.”
“No, I’ll stay. Naomi, you go and have a look if you want. Tom can take over your shift on guard. And pass the word around. I guess everyone should see it.”
“I think they already have,” Tom said. “Everyone’s in the restaurant watching.”
Naomi headed toward the village, leaving Tom and the detective alone.
“It explains it?” Jonas asked. “The outbreak?”
“I think so,” Tom said. “If you take it with a few other files I’ve got on there, it forms a pretty complete picture. A few of the fine details are missing, but it gives enough of the broad strokes that I can work out the rest.”
“And does it say how we can stop it?” Jonas asked.
“No. I don’t think it can be stopped. Not now.”
“Pity. So what’s wrong? You look like death warmed up.”
“It’s the person who’s behind it,” Tom said. “He’s not dead. Powell said something. I thought he was stalling, speaking just to keep me off guard, but Addison said something similar. It was a threat. At the time, I thought I was about to die, so gave little thought to his meaning. Then there was the mushroom cloud and I forgot but… but it’s not over. Not yet. Not for me. It isn’t just that video of the first zombie. There are other files, ones I collected a long time ago. In that video of patient zero, there’s a scientist. That same man appears in another. He’s in the lab, giving a tour of it. It’s the lab where the virus was created. It’s still there. I have to go to the lab. I have to destroy it.”
“Why?”
“Because Helena’s dead,” Tom said. “Max is dead. Claire is dead. Their children are dead. Murdered. It’s not just them, but everyone in the entire country and across the world. Everyone who died because of the outbreak, and everyone who died trying to stop it. Someone has to make sure that every vial is destroyed and every scrap of paper that details how it was made is burned. Who else is left but me? No. I have to leave. I have to do this.”
“You sure it’s still there?” Jonas asked.
“I am.”
Jonas sighed. “I’d like you to stay. I know that there’s a lot of anger directed toward you at the moment, but we could do with your help.”
“This is important,” Tom said.
“Important to you, maybe. To anyone else? I don’t know. But go if you have to, if that’s where you feel your destiny lies.”
It did. The people here in Crossfields Landing were safe. They had a place to stand and the ability to retreat if they had to make that stand elsewhere. He would make sure that scientist who created it was dead and that the facility where it was made was destroyed. But first, there was something else he would do, somewhere else he would go. It was the words Helena had spoken before she died. There was a chance for him to make amends for the greatest regret of his life. So he would cross the ocean, go to the lab, and then, if he didn’t die along the way, he would return.
“If I can, when it’s all done, and I’m certain that this world is as safe as it ever can be now that the dead walk the Earth, I’ll come back,” he said.
“Don’t make a promise you may never be able to keep,” Jonas said. “Up the road. Do you see it?”
A zombie in a torn green coat limped around the bend.
“First one we’ve seen for almost a day,” Tom said. “I’ll take care of it, but then I’ll go.”
“You’ll leave today?”
“I have a long way to go,” Tom said. He picked up an axe before stepping out into the road. It was a long way, and he might not make it, but he had to try. He owed all those who had died at least that much, but if he could, he’d return, and finally turn that cottage into a place he could truly call home.
The end…
The story continues in Surviving the Evacuation, Book 1: London.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this book. To be among the first to hear about new releases, you can join the mailing list:
http://eepurl.com/brl1A1
For more information, or to get in touch, visit:
http://blog.franktayell.com
http://twitter.com/FrankTayell
www.facebook.com/TheEvacuation
or by email
frank.tayell (at) gmail.com
Other novels:
Surviving The Evacuation
The outbreak began in New York. Within days, it spread throughout the world. Nowhere is safe from the undead. Books 1-3 are the journals of Bill Wright, a political operative trapped in London after the city is evacuated. Books 4-7 tell of Nilda, a mother searching the wasteland for her son.
1: London 2: Wasteland (Zombies vs The Living Dead - a short story introducing characters that appear in Book 3) 3: Family 4: Unsafe Haven 5: Reunion 6: Harvest 7: Home
Here We Stand:
There is an evil cabal at the heart of government. This is the story of Sholto, and how he tried to prevent the end of the world.
1: Infected 2: Divided
Post-apocalyptic Detective novels:
Strike a Match
In 2019, the AIs went to war. Millions died before a nuclear holocaust brought an end to their brief reign of terror. Billions more succumbed to radiation poisoning, disease, and the chaotic violence of that apocalypse. Some survived. They rebuilt.
Twenty years later, civilization is a dim shadow of its former self. Crime is on the rise, aided by a shadowy conspiracy. It is down to Detectives Mitchell, Riley, and Deering of the Serious Crimes Unit to unmask the conspirators and save their fragile democracy.
1. Serious Crimes
2. Counterfeit Conspiracy
Work Rest Repeat
Sixty years after The Great War, the last survivors of humanity have taken shelter in giant towers. The colony ships that will allow them to leave the diseased Earth are nearing completion when two workers are murdered. For our species to survive, the criminals must be caught, and the launch must go ahead.
Thanks for reading.
Table of Contents
Prologue - The Conspiracy So Far
Chapter 1 - No Admittance
Chapter 2 - What’s Yours Is Mine
Chapter 3 - Unwelcome In Providence
Chapter 4 - Airlift
Chapter 5 - Brothers And Sisters
Chapter 6 - A Very Grand House
Chapter 7 - Toll
Chapter 8 - Shopping
Chapter 9 - Caught
Chapter 10 - An Old Friend
Chapter 11 - Questions
Chapter 12 - Confessions
Chapter 13 - Fire, Returned
Chapter 14 - Outrunning Death
Chapter 15 - Unlucky Survivor
Chapter 16 - The Dark Night
Chapter 17 - The Long Day
Chapter 18 - Family First
Chapter 19 - The Prisoner’s Dilemma
Chapter 20 - No Bed, No Breakfast
Chapter 21 - The Village At The End Of The World
Chapter 22 - A New Day, A New Life
Chapter 23 - Loose Ends
Epilogue - Departure