“Oh, dear God!” I exclaimed. Pius, too, was surprised at the result of his punch.
“I did not hit him that hard!” he almost pleaded, looking around guiltily while trying to wipe off the evidence of his crime.
“It’s alright,” I acceded calmly. I think I was filled to the brim with horror to the point where I was barely reacting, even to something so horrible. “For what it’s worth I don’t think he was all there.”
I grabbed Becky’s hand once more - thankfully she did not seem to be aware of the altercation - and we moved on, staying close to the shelter of boundary walls, looking for doorways we could use to hide in if necessary.
There were a lot of people on the road now, most appeared to be in the same state as the man Pius had pole-axed. Some seemed aware of us while others were completely oblivious to our presence; all seemed to have the strange affliction with their eyes. I know Becky had used the z-word but at the time I was dubious, after all up to that point they were the stuff of TV shows and legend as far as I was concerned. After all we had been through I was beginning to get my head around her analysis. Whatever had caused it, the people had definitely become some sort of walking dead, making me grateful that we had survived somehow.
Becky was starting to become more aware of her surroundings as we made our covert way down the road towards Victoria Street; suddenly she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the surface as she searched desperately for something. I was wondering if she was losing it when she looked up suddenly and smiled. A tinny voice emitted from the phone announcing an emergency was under way and we were not to panic, the government had the situation in hand. I laughed out loud at the blindingly crass statement.
“Which over-paid and over-expensed government think-tank came up with this crap?” I whispered to her. I earned a small grin from her in response.
The announcement continued, telling everyone that was listening to stay indoors and await help. Looking at the station she had picked up I saw it was the BBC which I could infer that it was probably a country-wide transmission. I stopped smiling and a shiver ran down my spine at the desperate realisation that this was not a local phenomenon and there was most likely nowhere we could possibly go to get away from this hell.
We came out of Artillery Row onto Victoria Street and I froze in horror. As far as the eye could see were thousands upon thousands of zombies. Looking around quickly we threw ourselves into a Prêt à Manger shop on the corner. Crouching down low to avoid being detected one of the staff had opened the glass door wide enough for us to get inside. A very brave but foolish act under the terrible circumstances. He signalled urgently for us to get onto the floor and crawl behind the serving counter. We did as we were bid.
Behind the counter were three members of staff already there. They looked pathetic and frightened to death. Looking at the guy who had let us in I wondered where he’d gotten the courage to do so. Staying hidden was the right thing to do so while I was grateful for his bravado I was also concerned for this foolhardy move. Some of the zombies outside the window had seen movement behind the shop’s glass and had wandered over. More joined them and now more than a dozen pairs of nacreous eyes peered in looking for us. Their hands drumming on the large panes set up a significant throbbing beat which continued to attract yet more of the undead.
“What is this? What can we do?” one of the staff members asked, looking beseechingly at us, the newcomers, as if we held the answer to the terrible situation we found ourselves in. She had a soft Eastern European accent, her Slavic cheekbones hinting at the same region.
Pius shook his head.
“Pray,” he whispered. I did a double-take at my new friend. His face was dead-pan and I suspected he was having problems with what he had done to the man using only his fist; if he was a devout Christian I imagine he was already wrestling with his conscience.
“Come on Pius, mate,” I coaxed. “Think of your family. We’ll get out of this. You’ll get back to them.”
This elicited no reaction so I continued trying to get through to my new friend.
“What are their names? How many kids have you got?” I thought if I made him think of each one in turn that he’d come back to us. We really needed his muscle; what we really didn’t need was one of our growing number losing faith in his ability to survive. I’d seen the films, those slow to react would get themselves and others killed and at that moment I was all about getting through the day. It was my turn to pay back at least one of the times he’d rescued me. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed to get his attention.
He looked at me and I saw the glazed look fade, replaced by a steely determination.
“I will be alright,” he muttered in a very deliberate fashion, smiling a little. “My wife’s name is Florence, and my two daughters are called Olutoyin and Teju.”
I sighed inside with relief - his voice had the same strong timbre I had heard previously and I knew he was back on track.
“They are lovely names. How old are your daughters?” I asked.
“Olutoyin is eight and Toyu is six.”
“That sounds lovely,” Becky chipped in. “We are going to get out of this, you know. I want to meet your family and let them know what a brave man you are. Today for preference, if humanly possible.”
At that moment there was a resounding crack and I couldn’t help myself but take a peek. One of the large windows had crazed with the punishment it was receiving from the outside. It was only the plastic lamination that held it in place.
I turned to the staff members.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” I urged. “Is there a back exit, a fire escape, or somewhere we can go upstairs?” I asked urgently. I looked at the name tag of the one who had let us in. “Joshua? Is there another way out?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But last time I looked those crazies were out the back of the building as well. There is an office upstairs, but I’m not sure how much value it is to us.” He pointed to a doorway just to one side of the serving counter. It was in the open and we would be seen if we made a run for it. Damn.
“We have to get away from this area,” I shouted. By now the cacophony from the windows and groaning of the zombies was overwhelming and shouting was the only way we could communicate effectively.
“”Let’s go!” Becky shouted and made a dash for the doorway. Turning back at the doorway she beckoned us to come. We did, driven by the sound of a window collapsing completely and an uplifting moan from the horde at their success. It felt like one of those dreams when you can’t get your feet up onto the bed quickly enough to avoid the monster you know is coming to get you.
I was the last of our new group to race out of the public area and up the stairs, with what seemed like an outpouring of lost souls from hell racing close behind us. And I saw at the last moment that there wasn’t even a door I could close behind us to keep the bastards out. At the time I believed this was almost certainly the end. We were trapped in the building.
*
8 - Division In The Household
After climbing the stairs at full tilt we burst out into an open foyer that had two elevator doors at the far end and a cheap-looking plastic imitation veneer reception desk stationed in the middle of the entrance hall. Off this same area were several office doors. Seeing the layout of this floor I was dismayed. If we sought safety in one of these rooms we would really be trapped. We needed to keep on going up, away from our pursuers.
I turned back to the stairwell - my gut told me it was probably no more sensible to use lifts in a zombie apocalypse than it was in the case of fire. Mounting the top stair was a large, obese man who may have eaten all the pies when alive but was now expanding into horizons new. From what I could see in that moment the Paleo diet was his latest fad. In his left hand was the remains of a human leg with stringy globs of meat stuck to its blood covered femur. Without a thought of what I was doing I ran towards him, grabbed the top of the door j
amb and swung at the meat mountain using my feet as a battering ram. I guess I was lucky and caught him in his upper torso and he was toppled backwards onto his followers, leaving our way upwards temporarily clear.
“Come on!” I urged and we all ran up the stairs; this time I remained with Becky and Pius. Our feet clattered on the marble steps as we raced onwards and upwards. Below us I could hear the rabble rousing itself again in its endless pursuit of living flesh.
If I remembered correctly, these old buildings were five or six storeys tall and if we could create a suitable barrier further up the building we might be safe for a while, it would at least give us breathing space to gather our wits and come up with a plan. At the next floor we dragged the reception desk into the stairwell and jammed it at the top of the stairs, blocking easy ingress. We did this for another couple of floors and then finally came to the top level.
“What now?” one of the staff members asked. His name badge announced him to be Vlad. In my desperation I hoped he would turn out to be an impaler like his famous namesake - an attitude like that would be of some serious use to us right now.
“Dunno,” I replied, breathing heavily from the exertion of the climb. “We rest for a moment. Shame we didn’t have time to bring any food from downstairs. I’m seriously bloody famished.”
“Funny you should say that,” the girl I spoke to earlier said, holding out a bulging carrier bag full of sandwich packets and fizzy drinks. Her name tag said her name was Indre. “I had collected it already, just in case.”
“Nice one, Indre,” I replied, smiling.
She opened the bag and offered it to me. I pulled out a pack. Chicken with avocado. Well, at least it was a healthy option - wouldn’t want the zombies to tuck into an unhealthy body. I piled into it as the others grabbed a pack each and began munching in silence. I looked over at Becky and she appeared reasonably recovered from all of our trials up to now; still a little pale but at least her colour was returning. The food was helping her to recover from the shock. I encouraged the others to take a fruit juice or can of pop to help with their blood sugar levels. I didn’t want anyone getting the shakes or crapping out on us from lack of sugar at this point.
From downstairs we could hear moaning and the crashing of furniture as they struggled to get past our hurriedly created barriers. From the increasingly enthusiastic sound of splintering wood echoing up the stairwell I estimated we had no more than about twenty minutes before they joined us.
Glancing up at the ceiling I noticed a hatch. Gut instinct told me that climbing up there would set us free. In a worst case scenario we could hide out until the zombies moved on, assuming that’s what they did of course. I looked around and pulled a table over until it was under the hatch. I climbed up and pushed at the cover. It opened inwards so I pushed it all the way open.
You’re going to think I’m a bit of a sad fucker, but for as long as I can remember I always carried an 8cm long Maglite Solitaire LED torch with me - even before the ZA - you never know when you might need one. At least in the end I was justified so all of you that rolled your eyes at my little habit - bite me, so to speak. I needed my torch that day and so used it to check out the loft area. There was nothing up there that appeared to be any threat; the entire length of the area was boarded and only contained a few storage boxes and old zinc-coated water cisterns. Thinking of water I suddenly realised just how thirsty I was; a long drink of corporation pop was just what I needed about now. Mind back on the matter in hand I saw that the loft area extended the full length of the building. Just as I had hoped, I preened happily; it was a common trait of older buildings and it ran the length of the offices along the street. That meant we didn’t have to remain trapped in this one; the building below me was a sinking ship and it sounded like it was quickly filling with death dealing zombies. We metaphoric rats had to get clear, and quickly.
Looking back down at the group, I saw all their expectant faces raised up at me and I smiled. It’s amazing how a little hope buoys you up.
“There’s a way out up here, we can get away from this part of the building,” I announced happily.
Looks of relief converted their worried expressions from sheer desperation; at least they looked like they had a little hope now.
“Come on,” I encouraged, climbing easily into the loft space.
I reached down and beckoned to Becky. Leaping onto the table in her enthusiasm she nearly fell over but I caught her hand and held on. Recovering, and with my help, she hauled herself on up. Pius was organising the others ahead of him and so between us they all clambered into the safety of the loft. Finally, Pius hauled his big frame onto the table and we heard an ominous crack from under it. Office tables weren’t designed for this kind of abuse and this one was letting us know that the ghost was being evicted. Grabbing at his outstretched hand I hauled with all my might and held him aloft of the collapsing table while he struggled to fit through the aperture. Damn, he was heavy and it felt like my shoulder was being dislocated but I held on.
Hearing running feet below I saw Pius’ eyes widen as the zombies grabbed hold of his legs.
“Oh,” was all he was able to say - his increasingly desperate struggles taking all of his breath.
“Help me!” I called to the others and immediately Vlad leant down and helped by grabbing Pius’ coat and hauling for all he was worth. Slowly but surely the big man was at last hauled through the hatch to safety and we collapsed panting into an untidy heap.
I peered down through the aperture and saw the zombies and their rabid attempts to climb up. Fortunately the table was now in pieces on the floor and couldn’t have been used as a step up. One of them managed to jump up and slap the side of the aperture frame in frustration but it was becoming clear that they had chased us as far as they were able. I closed the trapdoor and the noise from below ebbed as the creatures lost interest. To make sure the entrance was really secure we piled some of the cardboard boxes, presumably belonging to one of the businesses below, on top of it. Glancing at their labels I saw they were tax returns; it’s amazing how heavy tax files are and how grateful I was for a bit of bureaucracy at that moment.
Walking quietly down the length of the loft I stopped by one of the cleaner looking cisterns, cupped my hands and drank deeply of its contents, unconcerned by the risks of drinking from old cisterns. I had not realised just how dehydrated I had become and I think I might have sipped from a puddle at that moment. Becky and Pius followed suit, Becky looking a little apprehensive at first but her thirst overcame her reticence and soon she joined in, slurping greedily at the odd-tasting but welcome warm water. Refreshed we continued our way and finally arrived at an identical loft hatch at the far end of the building. Lifting the cover a little I stopped and we waited in silence, listening for any sounds from this particular office block. There was nothing to be heard. Lifting it a little more I peered down and could see that the office and stairwell were empty, at least on this floor.
“You lot wait,” I instructed. “I’m going down to check it out. Be ready to help me back up here if necessary.”
“Sure we will,” Vlad assured me.
Pius was crouching near me at that moment and I glanced at his shoes.
“Oh Jeez, Pius!” I exclaimed quietly. “I didn’t realise they got that close to you.”
He looked down and saw the bite marks on the heel and side. There was something that I realised later was brain matter on the toe. Pius just smiled.
“I kicked him good,” was all he said.
I raised my eyebrows and smiled back. Gently I lowered myself down, dropping quietly the last couple of feet. Perhaps I should state now that, before the end came, I was a martial artist studying Shorinji Kempo. Although not an expert I was fourth kyu so at least I had fitness, some suppleness and quickness about me. Perhaps this explained my willingness, once I realised what the hell was going on, to have ago and push myself a little more than most of the others. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m no hero - heroe
s don’t usually endure, they shine brightly before being snuffed out - at least in the ZA.
Adopting silent mode I searched the room in which I had landed as well as the adjacent rooms and found no-one. It was clear that this floor had not been occupied since the start of the fun. Maybe their staff members were out on the street below, no longer interested in working for a living.
In the distance I heard a huge explosion that sounded remarkably similar to the 747 we had seen die so spectacularly and tragically. I tried to imagine all those aircraft up there, their occupants probably zombified. I shuddered at the terror the uninfected must have felt trapped in those aluminium tubes of death. Bringing myself back to the here and now I finished the search and went back to the hatch and let the others know this floor at least was clear. I stopped them from coming down while I went down the stairs to investigate further; no point in us all being caught in the open if things went tits up.
The first two floors were clear and finally I was allowing myself to breathe a little more easily. Reaching the ground floor without incident I made my way cautiously to the glass-doored entrance and peered outside. The throng appeared to have walked on by, leaving a few stragglers wandering aimlessly and a small knot of them crouching over something. It was hard to make out what they were doing from my position but when one of them turned around and seemed to stare straight at me although without registering my presence, I gasped in shock. The creature’s hands were bright red and it seemed to be munching on what I took to be a human limb. I drew back quickly and rested against the cool, marbled wall letting my racing heart steady a little.
Zombies! Page 4