“Oh, Jesus,” Becky groaned, her face going pale once more. “We can’t go out in that!”
“We have no choice, babe,” I replied, trying desperately not to vomit. Before the ZA the worst thing I’d had to do was pick up my old dog’s poop using a plastic bag. “You know, I think I’ve just had a good idea. We’ll never get to Woolwich if we have to get across the town. What if we could get to the river and grab a boat? They couldn’t get to us if we travel down the middle of the river, surely? What do ya reckon?”
“You can’t steal a boat,” Matt said indignantly.
I looked at him in disbelief before I remembered he probably hadn’t stepped outside since all this began.
“Let’s just say that it’s quite possible ownership is no longer an issue,” I countered. “Anyway, I wouldn’t want to keep it, so technically it isn’t theft.”
“You can walk around town if you like,” Indre said to Matt, her lip curled in disdain. “I’d feel safer on the water, especially if these things are everywhere.”
“Alright then,” I interrupted. “If no-one has an objection we’ll head down toward Westminster Bridge - if the plane’s fire hasn’t blocked that route of course. There’s a pier next to the bridge so I’m sure there must be something there we could use.”
“What plane?” Joshua interrupted. “We heard a noise…”
“That was it,” Becky explained. “Right next to the Houses of Parliament. Half a mile further off course and this place would have been under it.”
“Oh, crap,” Joshua muttered as the explanation sunk in.
All conversations over and with no objections we made our way down the road towards Parliament. As before, we kept close to buildings and ducked from hiding place to hiding place. The temptation to simply run the route as fast as we could was temptingly overwhelming, but all of us were more frightened of the risk of running into a crowd of them. I firmly believed we could outrun them but all one of us needed to do was turn an ankle and we’d be in trouble. I used to have a blue t-shirt with the words ‘I like you but if zombies attack I’m tripping you’ printed on it in brilliant white. I remember I used to laugh at it thinking it was amusing. Oh well, times change and now I couldn’t imagine leaving a single person behind, without a fight at least. For me, starting from day one of the ZA, jokes like that don’t really seem to be particularly relevant. I think part of everyone’s humanity died when zombies started becoming a real threat to the living.
We came to Parliament Square Green with little or no trouble; a couple of stray zombies met the sharp end of my and Pius’ bayonets but other than that we were in the clear. We stopped by the corner of the Middlesex Guildhall building and crouched down as low as we could against the iron railings. I felt disheartened as I looked across the expanse - it looked way bigger than I remembered. While there were plenty of obstacles we could use for cover on the journey, everything from slender trees to good old Churchill’s statue plinth, I could see quite a number of zombies milling around, waiting for a meaty ready-meal to come wandering by and attract their attention. At the far side a crowd of them were gathered around a lump of something on the ground, their attention riveted on it. I tore my gaze away and quickly calculated our chances of getting through. I saw no other options: it was across Parliament Square or bust, as they say.
“Okay, now listen,” I whispered to my fellow survivors. “We are going to have to run for it. It isn’t far to the river but it’s far enough with those things on our tail. Pius and I will clear our way forward using bayonets unless we become cornered - then I guess the bullets will save the day, hopefully. Whatever you do, try not to make any more noise than you have to.”
“Duh,” Matt muttered under his breath.
“Just for that, you can be our rear guard,” I spat, glaring at the idiot. “You’d better take this seriously or you won’t get across the square.”
“Oh, I will,” he countered.
“You might just be a brave young warrior but if you do get anyone killed,” Pius said, speaking quietly enough that everyone had to listen carefully. “I will be having words with you about it.”
The look on his face made Matt swallow involuntarily and I smiled inside. I didn’t care whether the git respected my command over him or not; with Pius glowering at him he certainly got the picture.
“We can’t go in a straight line, we will be out in the open too long,” I said. “We will follow the line of the trees to the left. As it happens the zombies seem mostly to be out in the open, at least from what I can see from here. No-one stops or hesitates. If you get left behind we probably won’t be able to go back and help you. So we have to help each other all the time. I would like it if you each choose a partner for this.”
I knew that the buddy system was tried and tested. The look Indre gave Matt stopped him from making the obvious comment.
“I will partner with you,” Pius told Matt. “We can protect from the rear.”
Initially I thought that only one bayonet up front might prove problematic but if it came to needing a second weapon then we were probably done for anyway.
Becky and I were obvious partners, and the others paired up somewhat sheepishly.
“Ready?” I asked and received nods from each person. “Okay, let’s do this.”
My heart was pumping so loudly that I was sure everyone else would hear it but I guess they were too busy with their own to hear mine. I grabbed Becky’s hand and we ran for the cover of the first trees.
*
11 - Taking In The Sights
It was weird but as we ran for the trees I kept on thinking how this place looked in normal times - filled with office workers, civil servants, tourists, protesters, and the encampments of long term political complainants. All of that was now gone, in its place huge amounts of rubbish, torn down tents, discarded placards and of course diseased people with no obvious thoughts other than getting to us in search of sustenance - that and converting us into one of them, having seen the old man after being bitten and even Sneaky Bastard who came back simply by dying. Maybe it was everyone’s eventual fate.
At the beginning of our heroic dash my legs felt like jelly, my strength sapped by my fear. Running out into the open like that was a serious challenge to me - if I hadn’t had Becky by my side, well, honestly I don’t know how I would have fared. I’ll be frank, I’m not the bravest soul in the world, which may or may not explain why I’m still alive to tell this story at the end of the first day of the Apocalypse. Anyway, back to the present, I listened out for the footsteps of our group behind me to make sure we didn’t get separated as we made our hurried way towards the treeline and what pathetic cover it afforded.
In spite of our relative silence the zombies quickly picked up on breather presence and began their shuffling dance in our direction. My heart beat faster as I realised that somehow they were moving not so much towards us as more to block our passage across the square. Up to now I had only attributed the most meagre of mental abilities to them but definitely not this. Seeing this group activity at the very least indicated some sort of basic innate hunting skills, if not some form of group communications. All the way across I wondered if we were doing the right thing, although by now there was no going back. I looked over my shoulder and caught sight of Pius dispatching a zombie that had been more enthusiastically chasing us than the others. He seemed very proficient with the rifle and bayonet - deep waters lay there I suspected.
Arriving at the trees and thankfully still alive I pushed on, Becky staying by my side. I could see Winston’s statue urging me to fight on, the square and riverside our twenty-first century beachheads. Looking beyond him I judged there would be just about enough space for us to get over the bridge and down to Westminster Pier but it would be one hell of a close call. It was a serious gamble so I just prayed there would be a boat waiting for us. Even if we couldn’t get the engine started I still believed that we would be safer by simply casting it away from the shore, out of reach of
those deadly hands.
We were running hell for leather now, our restraint and carefully planned moves thrown out the window in our rising collective panic. We were nearly at the far side of the square when the first of us met our end. The upside was that it was only Matt. Fair do’s to the fella he appeared fearless in his struggle against the one that caught him. Struggling to overpower each other they both went down and were almost immediately set upon by another four zombies who were already close behind our group, their relentless pursuit winning out. His screams brought more zombies to the scene. Dinner was served.
I grabbed Becky’s hand and cried out to the others to keep moving. Indre just stood there and seemed nonplussed at Matt’s demise, their sparking relationship now evident for what it had been. Pius grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her along, she all the while looking over her shoulder at the food lust behind us. From what I saw I only remember bright red. It seems that Matt did indeed step up in the end, although I don’t imagine it was exactly a voluntary contribution on his part, giving us a small hiatus in the chase; precious seconds needed to get further away from death. What do they say: you exist as long as someone remembers you and your actions in this world. Well, I remember all of them.
We were now alongside Portcullis House, that great modern edifice built to house our MPs and their minions as they struggled to keep our country afloat on a daily basis. As we passed by that monstrous folly I am absolutely convinced I saw a couple of members of our esteemed Cabinet, only now their own aim was to damn the paperwork and chase us. I wasn’t about to stop and ask for an autograph. They joined the chase as the pier appeared, guarded by Boudicca as she had done since 1850, although this time she merely watched impassively as we panted and struggled to stay ahead of the ever increasing horde of zombies collecting at our rear.
Vlad, our erstwhile impaler seemed not to be so much of a barbarian as I’d hoped, he was beginning to lag behind us, something that didn’t seem to go unnoticed by the zombies. Vlad was holding his left side and looked like he was suffering a debilitating bout of cramp. They seemed to smell blood in the water and from all around they began to converge on him. I felt for the guy, he seemed to be a pretty decent person.
I turned back to face a couple of zombies that at that same moment thought it was a good idea to deliver a frontal attack. On the first over-enthusiastic thrust I delivered on the leading zombie I felt and heard the crushing of the skull as the blade penetrated into the brain. She fell motionless at my feet and I suddenly realised the blade was being held in by suction, her lolling head soaking up my efforts to get free. The second one sensed the opportunity to strike but instinctively I fired a shot and the woman’s head opened up releasing the bayonet. I read once that firing a shot was how troops in WW1 quickly released their long bayonets from a resistant body. The ancient wisdom seemed to work and so I managed to skewer the second one in the chest, not being in the right position to attack its head. Its arms flailed in an attempt to close the gap the rifle afforded me. This time I kicked at the torso, delivering it a heavy-duty blow born out of the adrenaline rush I was experiencing right at that moment. It flew away backwards from me, giving me the precious moments needed to place the blade between its eyes. I twisted the rifle and the blade came out easily.
Looking back I saw no sign of Vlad other than a crowd of zombies gathering around something on the ground. Damn, I thought, another innocent soul lost. I was beginning to feel rather freaked out by now, the adrenaline rush notwithstanding. The sensation of stabbing a person, the thought of being torn apart by gnashing teeth, it all felt overwhelming and almost too much to bear. I kept running, Becky remaining by my side, and finally saw there was indeed a boat at the pier. Together we rushed down the steps and leapt aboard.
“Untie the ropes!” I shouted. “Pius and I will clear these bastards off.”
The two of us rushed at the three crew members which had clearly turned at some point in the night and were standing at their stations as if waiting for passengers. As they appeared to be in a trance-like state they put up little resistance. We gave them no time to wake up from it and quickly dispatched them with increasingly practiced bayonet thrusts. I was surprised how little blood came out of our victims. It wasn’t at all like the films; I guess no pulse equals no blood pressure equals no squirting blood. Pius and I threw them overboard as we began to drift out into the river, Becky, Indre and Joshua having taken the initiative to cast us away from the shore.
On the pier dozens of zombies crowded every spare inch, inadvertently toppling some of their number into the water in their blinkered enthusiasm to get to us. I was right, or so I thought, the water would be a safe place to be for now. I sighed with relief.
“Let us get the motor started,” Pius suggested vehemently, a sense of urgency in his voice.
“Sure,” I agreed and hurried with him to the wheelhouse.
*
12 - Bridging The Gap
Pius unceremoniously skewered the helmsman standing in the wheelhouse from behind, thrusting up into the brain and taking whatever life it possessed, after which we threw the flaccid corpse unceremoniously overboard. I looked at where he had been standing and saw that the key was still in the ignition, a small, yellow plastic Homer Simpson hung blue-trousered and fat from the keyring - I guess they were getting ready to ply their trade up and down the river when the day went less well.
Today was turning into the ultimate ‘shit happens’ scenario for millions, perhaps even billions of people around the world and I was beginning to wonder why I and Becky were resistant to the populist trend of becoming a zombie. I guess there were exceptions to every rule. Maybe we were lucky, maybe not. That day created an increasing chasm of ambiguity over the definition of being lucky.
I looked at the shore, from which we had drifted some thirty feet. We had been just in time; thousands of the undead had amassed, pouring down the ramp onto the pontoon to which we had been tethered only moments ago. Their noise and stench was formidable, their groaning intensifying as I fancied their disappointment at our escape. Some began falling into the water as others came from behind, their weight of numbers causing the pontoon to capsize, tipping the crowd into the Thames. They were more buoyant than I expected and floated on the river like logs.
I remember smiling with relief, feeling safe for the first time that morning. Damn, it was only just coming up to midday according to Big Ben. It seemed like we’d been on the go for days.
Unfortunately relief was a short-lived emotion as I noticed that the hundreds of zombies that had tumbled into the water were locking themselves together like a floating logjam onto which others were clambering in order to try and get to us. The writhing flotsam was moving apace with our drifting vessel.
I heard Becky squeal in fear as she realised the implications of what was happening.
“Let’s see if we can get this boat going,” I said, speaking to myself mostly in my nervous state.
I turned the key, gave the glow plugs a moment and then pressed the starter button. The engine turned over several times before I took my finger off the button. Nothing happened.
“Shit!” I exclaimed angrily. “Start you son of a bitch!”
I pressed the button again and it turned over, the engine catching for a moment after seemingly endless turns. I tried once more and suddenly the engine burst into life and a plume of diesel smoke belched out from behind the boat.
“Thank you Lord,” Pius mumbled, fingering the cross that hung around his neck.
“Yes!” I exclaimed and moved the gear lever into the position marked by an ‘F’, presumably forward. There was a throttle next to it and I gently pushed it to its limit and we started to leave the lethal logjam behind.
A small cheer sounded from the cabin area and I smiled at Becky who returned it and gave me the thumbs up.
Looking out ahead of us at the great expanse of the Thames I suddenly realised just how far we had to travel by boat.
�
�Keep a look out ahead,” I warned our group. “If they can float they can get to us!”
At that warning they gathered at the bow to make sure they could watch out for obstructions. From where I stood in the wheelhouse I had a good view ahead so I was more interested in our people being able to repel boarders. This wasn’t the fastest boat in the world and I imagined a determined, floating zombie could potentially haul themselves onto the decks. After all, they were completely indefatigable as far as I could tell.
“Are there any boathooks?” Pius asked, clearly seeing the same threat as I had done.
I look around the wheelhouse and saw a varnished wooden door. I opened it and was pleased to see it was a closet in which were the various tools of a boat, including half a dozen brass hooked staves.
“Here, pass these out to the troops,” I said to Pius and he smiled, taking them as I passed them over. In a moment our people were armed, at least minimally. Better than nothing, I reckoned. The brass ends would be good for stabbing.
Looking ahead I saw we were approaching the bridge over which trains travelled to and from Charing Cross railway station. I was grateful we no longer had to fight our way to Waterloo, bypassing streets I could now see were crammed with zombies. On the shore roads I could see many of the living dead seemingly following us as we made our way seaward. I knew there would be obstructions along the shore that would stop them in their tracks so I stopped worrying about our shadows and gave them no further thought.
Zombies! Page 6