“Get in the car Adam,” said Harriet softly as she opened the door.
“What about Arthur, he’s still-”
“Adam, get in the car.”
Adam got into the passenger seat.
The zombies were close, they would be in the garage within a minute.
Harriet ran round the side of the jeep and got in the driver’s seat. She locked the door - Adam had already locked his. He was pale, staring ahead, breathing fast.
“It’s a swarm. I told you we didn’t have time - I told you we had to go quick.”
“It’s ok Adam. We’re safe in here - nothing can get us here.” She didn’t know whether that was true. Could they break through glass?
They watched the approaching hoard, low moaning vibrating through the air and deep into Harriet’s bones. It wasn’t just a sound though, it was a telegraph, a broadcast of the desperation of the trapped beings inside their dead bodies.
Adam held Harriet’s hand, and he breathed fast and deep. Harriet’s own breathing had increased and sweat was forming on her back. She worked hard to stop a panic attack. She looked at her watch - how long would Arthur be and what could he do once he was here?
The first of the zombies walked into the garage, and straight towards the jeep. They had a knowledge, it seemed, of exactly where their prey was.
The zombie walked directly into the bonnet, and shuffled to the side, its eyes staring straight ahead, vacant and dead. No iris, all pupil. It had been a young woman. It was wearing a white sweater now splashed with blood. Its jaw has hanging loose and it gnashed uselessly against the air, seemingly frustrated at the smell of flesh it couldn’t reach. It had a massive gash in its neck, out of which a thick red tube hung - it was an artery. Harriet felt sick.
So engrossed had Harriet been in studying the first zombie to reach the jeep, that she hadn’t noticed the others. Slow, lumbering bodies encircled the jeep, the air vibrating to their groaning lament.
Adam started to shake and whimper. He buried himself in Harriet’s arms and she held him tight. The dark cadavers now surrounded the vehicle, their damaged and bloody figures pushing against the windows of the jeep. Some tried to bite at the glass, others simply pushed their faces up against it, their dumb animal intelligence unable to produce any more productive actions.
Harriet felt a scream build in her stomach, and she fought to push it down. It was the fear of being surrounded by dead humans, by zombies, trying to get into a car to eat her; it was the exhaustion of the past few days and the fight from one place of survival to another; it was the unrecognised loss of everything her life was and would probably never be again; it was the pain of watching Adam go through the death of both of his parents; it was her fear that her failings had allowed the death of Adam’s mother; it was the loss of hope.
Two quick rapports of gunfire.
Two zombie heads on the driver side of the vehicle burst in red blood and flesh.
More gunfire, more course and fleshy thumping sounds, like a melon being hit with a sledgehammer.
Adam sat up, his eyes wide. “Who is it? Is it Arthur?”
“It must be,” said Harriet.
More gunfire, short bursts this time, and the heads of zombies at the front of the vehicle exploded in red tissue mists.
The driver’s door opened quickly and Harriet, expecting to see the large dark form of Arthur, was instead shocked to see a smaller man, a shock of blond hair and pale white skin.
It was the good looking lieutenant she had met yesterday evening - Dalby.
She smiled at him, “Oh, thank you, thank god, we thought we were finished!” Relief flooded over her.
Dalby didn’t smile. He climbed into the vehicle. “Where are the keys?”
“We can’t go yet,” said Adam. “We have to wait for Arthur.”
“Who the fuck is Arthur?”
Harriet’s brow furrowed, but put his rudeness down to circumstance. “He is our friend, we had a plan to get these vehicles and get out of here. He should be here in a minute - he led all the zombies away.”
“He didn’t do a very good job, did he? Give me the keys.”
Harriet had the keys in her left hand. She slipped them into her jacket pocket, feeling uneasy in the Lieutenant’s company, his manner setting of an internal alarm. Simply put, he scared her. “We have to wait for Arthur.”
Very quickly her relief had turned to fear.
Dalby looked to the ceiling, a large sigh. “We don’t have time, now give me the fucking keys!”
Harriet sat between Adam and Dalby. She moved a little away from Dalby, squeezing up next to Adam, shielding him.
“No,” she said.
A thump from somewhere. Spinning blackness and white stars in her vision. The taste of blood and a throbbing pain in her jaw, her head back against the seat. Adam yelling.
Dalby had hit her.
She shook her head and straightened up, focusing on Dalby. She felt warm blood trickle down the side of her chin. Her jaw was throbbing.
Dalby was pointing a handgun at her. “I won’t ask again. We can all get out of here alive, or you can decide to wait for your boyfriend, and only I get out of here alive.”
Chapter 8
Arthur breathed quickly, pushing his way through the undergrowth. The darkness in the woods was complete and he struggled to keep upright as he fought through branch and bush to keep ahead of the following zombie mob. The sound of their moans floated in the darkness, surrounding him, an unearthly sound that pushed right into his soul. It was impossible to tell how close or far they were, but the cracking of undergrowth from behind him let him know they weren’t giving up.
Arthur cursed as a branch scraped his head, drawing blood. He pushed on, hoping that Harriet and Adam would drive on without him. He had lost any idea of where he was, never mind the garage.
A hiss caught him off guard, it was loud, close, in his left ear. He felt warmth on his neck, or did his imagination and fear put it there? Adrenaline spiked in his veins and he ran faster, his feet feeling for safe ground.
But his extra drive and speed brought carelessness, and he fell forward. He tumbled and felt himself roll down a steep incline. Soil and dried leaves filled his mouth and eyes. Tiny thorns and branches pierced his skin.
Arthur scrambled up, seeing nothing, but the sounds of his hunters ever present.
A loud crack of wood above him, and suddenly a weight was upon him. Fingers dug into his shoulders and the snap snap of jaws threatened death inches from his face.
He swung with his fist, following the sound of the jaws and he connected with flesh and bone. The weight fell off him.
He scrambled up and ran, not caring what direction. A hand grabbed his leg, he shook it off.
His lungs screamed - he was a big man, not used to this much running. His heart beat viciously, trying to get blood through the miles of arteries.
How long could he continue? If he could keep going until sun rise at least, he might have a chance.
Gunfire.
In the darkness, not far away, the sound of gunfire.
A salvo of single shots.
Arthur ran towards the sound.
Adam was crying again, curled up in the corner, hiding from Dalby. Harriet’s was sick of seeing Adam crying - all she wanted was a place where he wouldn’t cry anymore.
And another of her life’s new maxims was she couldn’t let anyone else die. It didn’t matter that a soldier was pointing a handgun at her, asking her for the key in her pocket. The key she could just give to him. She wouldn’t leave Arthur behind.
The zombies had surrounded the jeep again, and were shaking the vehicle, pushing against the window.
“I’ve had enough of this”, said Dalby.
He hit Harriet around the head with the butt of his gun. Her head bounced against the back of the seat and she saw stars.
Her vision doubled, and she saw two hands rising to strike her again.
The gunshots led Arthur straig
ht to the garage. He pulled open the back door. Zombies crowded the jeep, but they were in a line. He could manage them - he had too.
They still hadn’t seen him. He sneaked over to the tool table on the right of the garage and picked up a hammer.
Then he let rip.
“Party time guys!”
He ran into the zombies, striking each one hard on the head, using all of his considerable strength. The skulls caved and shattered like thin glass. One by one Arthur crushed their heads, brains and blood and flesh squirting and spraying across the garage, slopping onto the far walls - the force of Arthur’s strikes not just killing the zombies, but obliterating them.
He pulled open the driver’s door of the jeep and for a moment was stunned to see a soldier in the driver’s seat, a gun in his right hand, raised.
Harriet was in the passenger seat, blood dripping from her forehead and mouth, her eyes dazed.
The soldier turned to face Arthur.
The soldier didn’t stand a chance.
Arthur grabbed the man’s arm, and pulled it towards him, hard. The unnatural angle of the pull yanked the man’s shoulder out of his socket with an audible crack.
The soldier yelled in pain as Arthur flung him to the floor. Arthur leaned down and punched the soldier once. Twice. That would do.
Arthur jumped in the jeep and pulled the door closed.
“Are you ok?”
Harriet nodded, her head bobbing gently from side to side. She was concussed. He could look at that later.
“The keys, where are the keys?”
A zombie appeared at the driver’s window.
Adam pulled the keys out of Harriet’s pocket. “Here,” he said.
Arthur took the keys and started the vehicle.
He rammed his foot on the accelerator and the jeep shunted forward with a loud roar of the engine.
They got onto the road, collecting a few zombies on the bonnet. Arthur hit the breaks and the zombies flew backwards onto the road.
He accelerated, running over them, the jeep bouncing up and down on its loose suspension.
Within a minute or two, the road was clear of bodies.
Ahead, nothing but the night.
When Harriet awoke, she had a hell of a headache. She also had a bandage around her head.
She was sitting in the passenger seat of the jeep. Outside, it was light. Arthur and Adam sat by a small campfire, with a small animal roasting on the end of a stick. The smell was good and Harriet’s stomach rumbled, reminding her it had been a long time since she had eaten.
She got out of the car, and immediately had to steady herself on the door frame. She was overcome with a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness.
A hand took her arm and led her gently beside the fire. “Careful,” said Arthur. “You have suffered a serious concussion. That soldier guy got you pretty good.”
Harriet eased herself down onto the floor. Adam smiled at her, she smiled back.
“What are we cooking?” she said.
Adam’s smile grew wider. “Squirrel!”
She must have pulled a hell of a face, for Arthur and Adam both let out full belly laughs.
“I built the traps with Arthur’s help,” said Adam. “And the fire.”
“He is a real boy scout,” said Arthur ruffling the young man’s hair. “I think we will be ok with this one.”
Adam turned the squirrel spit, looking pleased with himself.
“My head hurts like hell,” said Harriet. “Did you put on the bandage?”
Arthur nodded. “You have a very deep gash in your forehead, I stitched it up the best I could with the medikit in the jeep. You also have pretty bad bruising in your jaw. Sorry, but I could not find any pain killers.”
“Arthur’s a nurse,” said Adam.
Harriet smiled, “Thanks Arthur. Not just for patching me up, but for helping us back there.”
“It is no problem.” He sniffed the charred squirrel carcass. “What do you think Adam? Good to eat yet?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
They took the small mammal off the spit and Adam carved it up using his knife.
“What time is it?” asked Harriet, realising she had no idea how long she had been out for. “Or even, what day is it?”
“It is about five o’clock on the evening after last night.” Arthur smiled. “We are probably about ten miles from that place now, east.”
“Where are we going?” said Harriet
“Adam has some ideas…” Arthur turned to Adam.
“Remember Harriet,” said Adam, “a few days ago I told you that in an apocalypse the people would be the most dangerous thing?”
Harriet nodded, vaguely remembering.
“Well, my dad says that in a crisis you should get away from most people and hide out until things settle down.”
“You have a plan?”
“Yes, my dad would always take me to Cornwall. There’s a place there, but I forget its name, something bay. But I think we should go there. I know how to get there.”
“What do you think, Harriet?” said Arthur. “Sounds good to me.”
Harriet nodded her agreement. “Let’s go. Let’s go to the beach.”
They slept in the back of the jeep that night. It wasn’t too tight a fit as either Harriet or Arthur would be taking turns to keep watch, listening for zombies, or people. Luckily, neither came their way.
Adam slept soundly through the night, although his body jerked and he moaned quietly, nightmares obviously stalking his slumber.
Harriet hoped that in a day or two, they would reach a small town and the people there would tell them that the army had fixed whatever the problem was, and the virus had been cured. They would tell them that everything was going to go back to normal, and that they should come in for a hot bath and a nice meal before heading back to their proper homes.
But she didn’t think that would happen. She thought that this was how it would be from now, for a good while, for who knows how long.
Adam let out another small cry and waved his arm around in his sleep.
“Shhh,” said Harriet as she put her arm around him and cuddled him gently. “Shhh, it’s ok. I’m here, I’ll look after you.”
Adam settled back into sleep, and Harriet dozed off herself a few minutes later, whilst Arthur sat in the driver’s seat, watching, waiting, hoping.
Train to Hell
Chapter 1
Two hundred and fifty feet of wet clay above, and ten miles of darkness ahead and behind. The 1503 Eurostar train from Paris to London sat still in the black of the tunnel.
Thirty minutes of no movement.
No announcements.
Sarah was going to miss her meeting in London, which meant she would have to arrange another meeting, which meant she would have to work late, which meant she wouldn’t be able to pick up Clarissa from nursery.
She tried to call her husband again. A busy signal. No internet connection either. She closed her laptop.
There was a hum of electricity and the sound of engines starting.
“Finally,” said Sarah to no-one in particular.
The train shunted forward slowly for a minute or so, and then stopped.
The electrical hum died, and then the lights died.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said under her breath.
A few lonely gasps echoed around the pitch black carriage. Someone let out a small murmur.
Under lighting from below the luggage rack flickered into life with a momentary buzz, bathing the carriage in a soft yellow glow. Like the night time incandescence on an overnight flight.
“This is ridiculous.” Sarah stood up and marched down the carriage towards the front of the train. She was going to find someone who knew what was going on.
The train was a lot less busy than she was used to, with many seats unoccupied. She guessed it was the virus that was keeping people from travelling. It had been all over the news for the past few days, the usual sensationalist f
ear mongering.
She reached the dining car and found her first Eurostar employee in the canteen.
“What the hell is happening?” said Sarah. “We’ve been sat here now for over thirty minutes.”
The young man behind the desk opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as Sarah showed no sign of letting him speak.
“We should be in London by now. Instead I’m stuck here in the half darkness like some mole, with no phone signal, no wifi. I can’t even let the office know what is happening, I’m the Chief Finance Officer and I’m going to miss the finance meeting and who the hell is going to pick up my daughter from nursery?”
The young man tried his best to smile, “I’m afraid I don’t know, I have only been told-”
“What have you been told?”
“- I have been told that we are held up, for reasons unknown.”
“Reasons unknown? Bullshit. Someone always knows, just not you. Who the hell can I speak to that will tell me what is going on?”
The man pointed further up the carriage. “The conductor may be able to tell you madam,” he said.
“Right.”
Sarah turned on her heel and stomped through the next two carriages, looking for the conductor.
“Anyone seen the conductor? Is there a conductor around here?” said Sarah as she walked through the carriage. Most people ignored her, but one old man sheepishly pointed towards the front of the train. She half waved a thanks as she walked past.
The conductor was at the very front of the train. He was stood in a compartment separating the front carriage and the driver’s cab. The driver’s cab was open, and the conductor was talking to the driver. They spoke in low voices, but animated. The driver’s face was red and he looked angry. The conductor, a fat man with a small hat, held up his hand to silence the driver when he noticed Sarah enter the compartment.
“Yes madam, can I help you?”
“I hope you can,” she peered at his name badge, “Abdul. Are you able to tell me why we have been standing still for the last thirty minutes, and why we are now in near darkness?”
The conductor didn’t look happy with the questions.
Surviving the Fall: How England Died Page 18