by Drew Brown
“We were discussing what our plan of action should be today,” Andy said. From under the table be pulled out his clockwork radio and extended the antenna as far as it would go. “We’re at t’highest point in London,” he continued, turning the radio on, “but I still can’t find any sign of a transmission on any frequency. Digital’s a total blank, an’ analogue’s no better.”
To prove his point, the maintenance man worked his way through the different bandwidths. The tiny radio speakers played nothing but static. When Andy made the switch from FM to AM, Budd shook his head and sighed. “So, boss, what are you saying, that we’re blocked from receiving anything, or that there’s nothing to receive?”
“I don’t know.”
The door from the kitchen opened and Carl came through, one giant arm wrapped around the body of his girlfriend. Budd looked on, entirely sure that without the big man’s support, De would be unable to stand. Her face and hands were a deathly shade of white and her black hair was thin and lifeless. She had one of the large red blankets wrapped around her shoulders, with its corners clasped across her chest. Carl guided her to the table and sat her down at the furthest end from the others.
For that, I was grateful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure she was lovely, but I just didn’t fancy breathing any air that had already been in her lungs…
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.
“Better, thanks,” Carl answered, raising his bandaged hand. “The bleeding’s stopped.”
“Good. And De? How’s she?”
Carl was sitting next to his girlfriend and stroked her hair. She made no response. “She’s feeling lots better, and a nice meal will make her stronger.”
With his attention captivated by De, Carl was unaware of the apprehensive looks exchanged by Andy and the doctor.
Budd kept quiet, but as he looked at Carl, examining him carefully, it seemed as if the big man’s actions were much slower than they’d been before, that each one was deliberate and planned, a conscious effort rather than an impulsive move. Also, his dark skin had taken on a paler shade, especially around his extremities. His ears and fingers looked distinctly mottled.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Reginald said. “I’ll take another look at you both after breakfast.”
“I think t’cloud’s clearing a bit,” Andy said, looking out through the windows. “I don’t think it’s as dark as yesterday. If it continues, a group of us can head up to t’roof. We’ll make a big sign so that people will know we’re here, an’ maybe this,” he said, switching off the radio and retracting the antenna, “will be of more use.”
“That seems like a plan,” Budd said with a nod of his head.
A plan that I didn’t want anything to do with.
Come on, go outside in a pea-soup fog and stumble around on a rooftop that’s a thousand feet up? If you ask me, that didn’t seem like a very smart move…
“But we could just wait it out in here till we know what’s going on in the wider world. We’ve got food, water, gas, and some electricity. This could be our home for a long time, boss.”
Andy shrugged his shoulders. “Food an’ water aren’t a problem. Electricity is limited to t’diesel in t’generators an’ I guess t’gas might’ve already stopped running - there’s probably no one at t’gas plant to keep t’network supplied, although for now, t’hotel has its own small store below t’basement. But, yeah, we can stick it out here for a while. I still think we need to access t’roof sooner rather than later, though.”
“What about the other people in the hotel? Surely we are not the only survivors,” Juliette said.
“No, probably not. But how can we search eighty five floors with those things down there? It would be extremely dangerous, an’ it would risk t’safety of this floor.”
“So, are you saying we should abandon them?” Juliette asked. Her voice was quiet.
“This floor is t’most sensible place for people to come. There is light, food an’ water. I’m sure that as time goes by, other survivors will make their way up here. It’s t’sensible place to try.”
“He’s right,” Reginald agreed, pushing his round spectacles up to the top of his nose. “Anybody who’s sheltering in their room, once their supplies have run out, would either decide to leave the hotel, which isn’t really an option, or there’ll try to find others in the communal areas. Either way, in the end, they’re likely to come to us.”
“Maybe we could let them know there is safety here.”
“I can’t think how,” Andy said, shaking his head, “but perhaps after breakfast you could try an’ come up with something. It’s probably good for us all to have a job.”
Juliette nodded her agreement, turning her head and smiling at Budd. “We will do that,” she said.
Budd smiled, trying to think of something to add, but the sound of a swing door opening relieved him of the need. Father McGee appeared with a large tray in each hand. Caroline followed him through, equally encumbered. Together, they hurried over to the table and laid down their offerings.
Surveying the food, Budd was pleased at the sight of the steaming heaps. There were dozens of strips of bacon, a similar number of sausages as well as boiled and fried eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, fried tomatoes, fried bread, buttered toast and a bowl of baked beans, all of which was served piping hot. Father McGee smiled with pride. “Help yourselves, there’s more to come.”
With that, all of those around the table filled their plates. Frank arrived with a large tray of coffee mugs and glasses of fresh orange juice. He had the tray perched on his one good hand and carried it with the ease of a practiced waiter. He put it down on the table before distributing one of each beverage to every person. When his task was complete, he loaded a plate with food and started to eat.
Father McGee and Caroline returned from the kitchen, making good their promise of adding more food. They spooned it onto the existing trays, replenishing the depleted piles to sizes that were even larger than when they’d started. Despite the group’s hunger, Budd doubted they would eat it all.
Chris was the last to arrive and appeared from the kitchen just as Caroline and Father McGee took their seats. He came to the table without speaking, choosing the seat furthest from Budd, directly opposite from De.
Between mouthfuls, Budd glanced along the table, realizing that all eleven of them were together. He caught Father McGee’s eye. “This is amazing, pops.”
The elderly priest nodded humbly. “I couldn’t have done it without Caroline’s help.”
Budd looked down at Juliette’s plate. There was no bacon or sausage, the two items he was enjoying most.
She caught onto the fact that the contents of her breakfast were being examined. “I am a vegetarian, remember, Monsieur Ashby?”
“Oh, yeah, one of those highly opinionated types.”
She dug an elbow into his ribs, but gave him a smile nonetheless. “Animals are treated with such cruelty; I will not have it done in my name.”
“Smart animals, like dolphins, eat meat, but stupid ones, like cows, don’t,” Budd said. “Go figure.”
“Are you calling me a ‘stupid cow’, Monsieur Ashby?” Juliette asked, laughing.
At the other end of the table, someone coughed.
“I’m not calling you stupid, but you must have bad wind, right? Vegetarians have bad wind. Isn’t that right, Doc?”
Juliette looked at Reginald, who finished his mouthful of sausage so that he could speak politely. “I’m not sure it’s a medical fact. Perhaps an urban myth.”
“Ha!” Juliette exclaimed happily. “You are wrong, Monsieur Ashby.”
When he made no reply, she turned to look at him.
Budd was staring down the table towards the sound of the coughing. Gradually, all the other conversation around the group faded away. Cutlery clanged against china as the implements were laid down.
De was coughing, her arms limp at her side.
Carl held her head in one hand and
the corner of the tablecloth with his other, clasping the material to her mouth. The white cloth was stained with red flecks. She was coughing up blood and her eyes were lifeless and still.
“Oh, fuck,” Chris said from across the table.
Tears of anger and frustration rolled down Carl’s dark cheeks.
42
Reginald was the first to react.
He pushed back his chair and ran to the end of the table. He took hold of De, sliding his hands beneath her armpits, and then lowered her down to the ground, resting her on her side. He propped up her head on his knee and then pushed two of his fingers into her mouth, checking her airway was clear. She continued to convulse, spewing more blood.
Captivated by what was happening, the group gathered around the doctor, peering over him. “Please,” Reginald said as beads of sweat formed on his plump face, “give her some room. Caroline, could you fetch my things?”
The doctor’s wife started to move, but Frank indicated for her to stay. “I’ll go,” he said, running to the kitchen.
“What’s happening?” Carl sobbed. He’d fallen to his knees and wrapped his big hands around one of De’s. “What’s happening to her?”
Nestled in the doctor’s lap, De let out a long, limp cough that spluttered to a halt. Blood trickled from her open mouth, running onto the doctor’s pants. After using his clean hand to feel for a pulse, first trying her neck and then one of her wrists, Reginald looked up at Carl. There was a dejected expression upon his face. “I’m sorry,” was all he said before Carl pushed him aside and lay cheek to cheek with his girlfriend.
Conscious of such a display of heartbreak, the group edged away. Budd found that Juliette’s hand was now tucked within his own.
Tears filled her eyes.
“There was nothing anyone could do,” he said and she nodded. As she did, her face appeared to lighten, her tanned skin highlighted by a greater brightness. All around the large restaurant, the level of illumination increased. Juliette raised her head and looked to the glass ceiling.
Budd did the same.
The thickness of the clouds had reduced dramatically, and now only resembled the heavy fog of a winter’s morning. Other members of the group were looking skyward, reacting to the sudden change.
“It’s lifting,” Andy said, earning grunts of agreement from Sam and Chris, the latter of who was lighting a cigarette with a match.
It wasn’t exactly time to grab the suntan lotion and hit the beach; the cloud was still as thick as I’d seen it at almost any point in my life, but in comparison to what it’d been the previous day, things were definitely on the up…
Frank came dashing in from the kitchen, but when he saw the doctor had moved away from De and was standing with his head hung despondently between his shoulders, the young man slowed to a walk. He carried over the collection of items he’d brought from the offices and laid them on the table beside the forgotten trays of food.
Carl gasped in fright, breaking the silence. He sat up, distancing himself from De’s body. “She’s alive,” he said.
“No,” the doctor replied.
“She’s alive,” Carl repeated. “Her eyes moved.”
Er, hello?
People, let’s focus here for a minute, shall we?
Remember the zombies? Good…
At the back of the group, Budd swallowed hard. He watched as Andy, Frank and Sam shifted their weight apprehensively. The young Californian walked to the kitchen.
“She isn’t alive, Carl,” Reginald said. He placed a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Please, you must move away from her.”
Carl looked up at the doctor. “What are you saying? She’s not one of those things. She’s not.”
Beneath his body, one of De’s legs twitched. The big man moaned with emotional pain. “No, no,” he cried, tears streaming from his eyes. “This can’t be.”
“Please, Carl, come with me,” Reginald said. Tears glistened behind his glasses. His wife was at his side, her own sad face appealing to Carl.
Sam appeared from the kitchen, carrying one of the big fire-axes. Carl saw it, saw Sam coming towards him and then shook his head. He thumped the floor at his side. “No,” he shouted.
Sam stopped.
“Not like this,” Carl continued. “All of you, get out.”
“Please, Carl, you know what we have to do.”
“Get out!” the big man spat, saliva spraying from his mouth and forming strands between his teeth. “I want all of you out.”
Andy accepted Carl’s words and gestured for the doctor and his wife, as well as everybody else, to gravitate towards the kitchen doors. When they reached Sam, midway from the table to the kitchen, Andy gestured for him to leave the axe.
The Californian laid it on the floor.
“Get the fuck out!”
Steadily, the group passed through the swing-doors. Not a word was uttered.
Budd was one of the last to leave. His final image was of Carl bent over, embracing De and sobbing. He was glad to be in the kitchen when the door finally swung shut.
Juliette sunk her head into Budd’s chest and wept. He held her as best he could, pulling her close. The tears soaked through to his skin. When she regained her composure, she pulled away and wiped her eyes.
Before Budd could say anything of comfort, Andy approached them, his face a mixture of sadness and anxiety. “T’doctor said he thinks it was probably t’bites. He thinks it’s an infection.”
Budd nodded, listening.
“If it is, then Carl will go t’same way. We’ll just have to wait an’ see.”
“Alrighty.”
The thought of not having the giant, axe-swinging machine in the future was not one I was overly happy with. The thought of perhaps having to fight him was even less appealing.
He’d make one huge zombie…
“Anyway, as soon we’ve got t’girl’s body in t’cloakroom an’ have re-established t’barricade, I think some of us should head up to t’roof.”
From the restaurant came a loud, wet thud.
Carl bellowed in despair.
Andy closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll go an’ give him a hand.”
43
When Andy, Frank, Sam and Budd did venture into the restaurant they found that Carl wanted no help with his task. He’d dragged De’s body over to the double doors and hidden it from view beneath one of the red blankets. The material was pulled up over her head so that her feet poked out from the bottom. Carl was already using the blade of his axe to lever the tabletops from the doorframe, and he barked at the others to leave him alone. The only aid he accepted was Andy’s nail-pliers.
Seeing that he was undesired, Budd walked to the other side of the restaurant, away from where Carl labored, and stood looking out of the room’s glass wall.
Sam came and stood alongside him. “There’s not a lot to see, dude.”
Budd grimaced: the young Californian was right.
Although the cloud had thinned, there was little to see other than the odd vague outline through the haze, a few peaks of buildings that may have only been figments of his imagination. He wasn’t familiar enough with the London skyline to be sure.
Another set of footsteps arrived at the window. Budd turned to see Frank. Slowly, a smile spread over the hotel-worker’s face. “That’s lifted enough.”
“Enough for what?” Budd asked.
“When they pulled down the Dome, they redeveloped the whole area; there’re three more skyscrapers, a bit shorter than this, close by. The New Millennium Hotel stands nearest to the riverbank; these windows give great views across the Thames to the west, north and east, but the kitchen and the office,” Frank explained, pointing back across the restaurant to its sole opaque wall, “obscure everything to the south. But from the roof, with the cloud so much lighter, we’ll be able to see what’s happening behind us.”
“Well, that should be interesting.”
Roll up, ladies and gentleman,
for skyscraper watching. The world’s newest extreme sport…
The sound of timber splitting filled the restaurant. Budd glanced over to Carl and saw that he’d removed most of the barricade. Sam watched for a few moments as well, and then knocked Budd’s arm, regaining his attention. The Californian leant in close. “Like, do you think we can get infected from the bites?” he asked.
“What am I? A biologist?”
“We should deal with this now,” Frank said, tapping the fingers of his good hand against his leg. “Before it’s too late.”
The guy was probably right, but I didn’t wanna get involved.
We didn’t know for sure that it was the bite that had caused De to change, but already I could see that Frank was advocating a witch-hunt for anyone bitten. I wondered how many of the others were thinking the same. The zombies on the outside were scary, but the thought of being locked inside with the Infection Gestapo wasn’t much nicer…
“Well, fellas, he still looks pretty strong to me. A bit pale, sure, but I doubt any of us look our best.”
“Maybe you’re right, dude.”
Frank remained silent.
“Anyway, I’ll see you in a bit. If you do decide to take him on just let me know. I’ll try and find some straws to feed you both through,” Budd said as he walked away.
Sam whispered something to Frank, too quiet to be overheard.
Searching for Juliette, Budd went back to the kitchen and then the offices. He heard her talking; the sound of her unmistakable accent coming from the left, down the corridor that led to the staff room toilets. He found her sitting on one of the chairs that ringed the outside of the room.