Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  “Roger Chimer. Do you need assistance? Over.”

  “Negative Runway Base, we got this one, Over. Out.”

  “Out.”

  Hutchinson smiled at Chimer.

  “Let’s get you out of here then. Come on, we have to be quick.”

  Andy felt relief flood into his veins, and his heart. He didn’t realise how tense he had been until the feeling had passed. He didn’t realise how much faith he had lost in humanity until these two soldiers had suddenly restored it.

  Chapter 10

  The group ran through the airport unassailed, with the two soldiers as their escorts. Chimer ran at the head of the group, Hutchinson following behind.

  As they reached the shopping area, the airport took on the look of the aftermath of a riot.

  The shop windows were shattered, glass fragments dripping with blood, hanging with ripped clothes, and most gruesome of all, with chunks of flesh. Alarms rang out with a shrill narcissism, all the different tones and intervals melding into one incessant cacophony like terrible insects from an alien world. Bags, suitcases, and holdalls lay open and abandoned, their contents spread like a laundry confetti.

  But what Carl found the worst was the bodies. Men, women, children, all lying in various states of disfiguration. Some looked like they were just sleeping, resting up against the chairs, slouched across doorways. Like well dressed drunks. Others had been ripped to shreds, bright red gashes in their flesh, their midriffs spilling intestines and other unnamed organs across their laps. Blood oozed from some corpses like a thick red jelly.

  And some had gunshot wounds.

  The soldiers guided the group carefully around the corpses. Chimer moved with practiced caution, quickly assessing the terrain with a keen eye, whether it be corridor, lounge, or shopping area

  His radio buzzed every now and again, and he would fire a quick two word response - maybe a check in.

  “Come on,” said Carl to Peter, who was running at the rear of the group. Hutchinson stood behind him, impassive, but watchful.

  “I’m ok,” said Peter, holding his shoulder.

  “Are you?”

  “Just feeling a bit faint. The sooner we get to the car park, the better.”

  Peter was pale. His shirt was dripping red blood.

  “Do you have any first aid gear?” Carl said to Hutchinson.

  Hutchinson shook his head, “All back at Runway Base.”

  “Come on,” Carl put his arm around Peter.

  A small gap had opened up between them and Andy, Jenny and Chimer.

  Carl jumped at the sound of a gunshot.

  Chimer was crouched on one knee, his gun up by his shoulder. He fired again and a zombie, walking out of the toilets, fell with a clean headshot.

  “Come on, move it!” shouted Chimer. He increased his pace.

  They reached the lifts. The huge lifts that went to the car parks, designed to hold twenty people and all their luggage.

  “You trust these?” said Andy as they congregated by the lift.

  “You mean power?” said Chimer.

  Andy nodded.

  “No problem, we’ve seen to that.” He pressed the button and the lights indicated the lift coming down from the fifth floor. “Which floor is your car on?”

  “The third,” said Jenny.

  “Sarge,” Hutchinson pointed to four zombies shuffling towards them from the far corridor. He crouched onto his knee and fired four shots, each one hitting its mark. The shots echoed almost painfully in the confined space of the lift lobby. Each zombie fell with a thud.

  “Stand back,” said Chimer. He held his gun up as the lift reached their floor with a ding.

  The doors opened.

  Empty.

  “Ok, let’s go!” Chimer, hustled the group in. It seemed they couldn’t move quick enough to satisfy him. “Go, go, go!” Carl helped Peter in. Peter seemed heavier. He let out a small groan.

  Chimer and Hutchinson took one last look around the empty lift lobby, guns raised, before pressing the button for the third floor.

  They stood in silence as the lift climbed slowly. The sound of alarms from the shops faded and the whine of the lift hummed in the enclosed metal space.

  We should just stay here, thought Carl. I don’t want to see what the world is like.

  Chimer and Hutchinson crouched by the doors and raised their guns. They motioned for the others to crouch.

  The doors opened slowly, and the two soldiers moved out slowly in unison, each scanning one side of the car park.

  Car alarms replaced the shop alarms with an equal yearning urgency. The dark shell of the large car park stretched for hundreds of metres. Flashing yellow, orange, red and white lights from the many car alarms made Carl feel like he had stepped into a cheap nightclub.

  “Where are you parked?” said Chimer above the sounds of the alarms.

  “This way,” Jenny pointed and made to get up and run towards where she was pointing, the far end of the car park. Chimer grabbed her shoulder, roughly, pressing her down, keeping her crouched.

  “Tell me where, stay behind me,” he said.

  Jenny shook of his hand. “There, in the middle, at the far end.”

  Chimer raised his hand, “Listen,” he said.

  They listened. Nothing but the manic car alarms. Then Carl heard it. Quiet at first, but once the sound registered, he couldn’t un-hear it. It got louder in his mind, and seemed to burrow straight into his brain.

  The moaning. Like a deep shift in the very earth, but one that reached into his soul.

  “There’s hundred’s down here. Let’s stay tight. Wait here,” said Chimer. He fell onto his stomach and crawled from the lift across the empty lane to the first column of parked cars, taking up position on the left side of he column. He peered around the end car and shook his head. He made a hand signal to Hutchinson.

  “What is it?” said Andy to the Private.

  “Aisle is full of zeds.”

  Chimer pointed to the opposite aisle. Hutchinson crawled to it and peered around the side of the bonnet. He whistled quietly.

  The two soldiers made a series of hand signals to each other, then Hutchinson motioned for the group to crawl to the middle of the column of cars, in between the soldiers. They did so.

  “Zeds everywhere,” whispered Chimer. “We need a new plan.”

  Hutchinson crawled over to Chimer and they began to talk in hushed tones.

  Peter, sitting up against a car, let out a small moan. He looked bad. He needed help, thought Carl.

  Carl peeked over the top of the bonnet. How many zombies could there be?

  About twenty feet away, a thick crowd of figures milled in the semi-darkness. They bounced off each other and the cars mindlessly, their hundreds of feet shuffling against the dry concrete to create a strange white noise almost like waves on a beach.

  “Shit!” said Carl, his nerves and fear getting the better of him. He had spoke louder than he meant to. He immediately pulled his hand to his mouth, but it was too late.

  A few of the nearest zombies snapped their heads in Carl’s direction. They saw him and let out a huge moan, sounding almost excited.

  The effect was terrible, and hypnotic.

  The reaction spread through the crowd of undead and one by one, they turned and moaned, their mindless shuffling becoming a guided desire for warm flesh.

  Hutchinson stared at Carl, hard, then looked past him to Chimer. “Compromised sir, many hostiles.”

  “Shit,” said Chimer. “Ok, this way!” He ran across the aisle to the next column of cars.

  Hutchinson grabbed Carl, “Come on, and don’t fucking move without me telling you to.”

  Peter held out his arm, “Carl, can you help?”

  Carl shouldered Peter and they hobbled after Chimer, Andy and Jenny. Hutchinson stood behind Carl and Peter, his gun tracking the first zombies that exited the aisle and shuffled towards them. He fired three times. Three zombies fell.

  The next aisl
e was full of zombies, as was the next. Chimer led them across one aisle to the next. Carl and Peter limped after them, falling behind.

  Chimer stopped running at the fifth aisle.

  “This one,” shouted Chimer. He crouched on his knee and fired slowly, methodically.

  “Hurry up!” shouted Hutchinson, still with Carl and Peter.

  Peter was pale, hardly able to support himself.

  “We need to stop this blood,” said Carl. “He’s going to pass out.” Although Carl was really worried that Peter was going to die.

  “We can’t stop here,” said Hutchinson

  Zombies poured out of the aisles behind them and filled the road. The shuffling and moaning echoed upon itself to create a thick wall of terrible sound, just as terrifying as the sight of the creatures making slow movement towards them.

  Peter stumbled over his feet and fell. His eyes were closed. Carl tried to rouse him, but there was no response.

  “Shit,” said Hutchinson.

  The group from the second and third aisles were only feet behind them.

  A zombie from the fourth aisle, only the distance of one car away, appeared - a man in a T-shirt and khaki shorts, his left leg only a stump from the ankle. It somehow managed to keep its balance and raised its arms, moaning at the sight of Carl, Peter and Hutchinson. It was quickly followed by others.

  Carl panicked. They were surrounded. Boxed in by cars, two walls of zombies, and the brick wall of the car park across the road.

  “What do we do?” he shouted, looking at Hutchinson.

  Hutchinson let off a number of shots. “We go over the cars.”

  “What about Peter?” said Carl looking at the unconscious figure on the floor, covered in blood, pale, breathing heavily, clammy white skin.

  “We have to leave him,” said Hutchinson. “He’s dead anyway, we have no medical equipment and he needs a blood transfusion.” Hutchinson grabbed Carl’s arm and pulled him towards the column of cars.

  “We can’t!”

  “You want to live?”

  “Sorry,” Carl said quietly to Peter.

  Carl followed Hutchinson as he climbed up onto the nearest car, a black BMW.

  He glanced back at Peter. His eyes had half opened. He raised his arm and let out a small whimper, reaching for Carl.

  The wall of zombies fell on him.

  Carl climbed up on the car, over the bonnet and into the gap before the next. Screams followed him, Peter’s screams. Moans hummed like an excited theatre crowd and thick squelching sounds and the cracks of breaking bones rose into the car park.

  Carl bent over, sudden cramps attacking his stomach. He threw up. Tears flowed from his eyes. He wanted to curl up and let the zombies get him.

  Two zombies tried to squeeze into the gap that Hutchinson and Carl stood in.

  “Come on,” said Hutchinson, grabbing Carl. “We have to go.”

  Carl felt himself climb over the next car, drop in to the gap, then climb the next, and again and again. He wasn’t really doing it. Everything felt like a nightmare. All he could see was Peter holding out his hand, one human to another, asking to be saved.

  Chapter 11

  Andy watched in dismay as a wave of zombies filtered out of the last aisle, blocking his view of Peter and Carl. It hadn’t looked good. Peter had fallen.

  “Move!” Chimer jumped up from his knees, the zombies in the aisle having been cleared.

  They ran fast past the cars, the sounds of frenzied shuffling and rasping exhalation never far away.

  Andy dared to glance behind him. Two things; a groups of zombies following them down the aisle; two figures climbing over the central column of cars, two rows back. It looked like Carl and the other solider.

  No Peter.

  Andy swallowed hard. He knew what that must mean, but he couldn’t let it register, not yet.

  “Where’s you car?” said Chimer as they reached the end of the car park.

  “Back this way,” said Jenny. “It’s a red Peugeot.”

  “Chimer,” shouted Andy, “we need to wait for these two.”

  Chimer nodded and raised his hand, they came to a stop by the column of cars that Carl and Hutchinson were climbing over. Eventually they jumped down from the last car to join Andy and the others.

  “What happened to Peter?” said Andy.

  Carl, his eyes red, just looked at Andy and shook his head.

  “Come on, let’s find this car,” said Chimer.

  They ran past many aisles, Jenny finally slowing. “There!”

  The wall of undead where half an aisle away, moving with uncertain dedication towards the group.

  Jenny pulled out her keys and climbed in the driver’s seat. Andy got in the passenger seat, Carl in the back.

  “You coming?” said Andy.

  Chimer looked uncertainly at the approaching grow of undead.

  “We’ll never get through them, sir,” said Hutchinson.

  “We could do with your help,” said Andy. “God know’s what it’s like out there.”

  Chimer took his radio, “Chimer to base. Chimer to base.”

  “Chimer, where the hell are you?” came the static bathed reply.

  “We’ve encountered some difficulties. We are forced to abandon the airport.”

  “What? What’s going on sir?”

  Chimer looked at Hutchinson, who shrugged.

  “Look, I’m speaking to Corporal Ford, right?” aid Chimer. “Some serious shit is going down. We have to bug out. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll do the same yourself.”

  “Sir, what-”

  Chimer turned off the radio

  Andy smiled. “Thanks. Now let’s get out of here.”

  Chimer got in the back of the car, and Hutchinson got in the other side, so that Carl was in the middle.

  Jenny pulled out of her parking spot. An old woman with half her scalp hanging off lurched onto the bonnet of the car, spreading blood across the windscreen.

  Jenny accelerated hard. The wheels of the little Peugeot spun loudly and then caught. The car catapulted forward and the old woman flew off the side, leaving behind her scalp, stuck to the radio antenna.

  Jenny drove the car quickly through the car park, following the exit sign. She pulled sharply to the left and right, avoiding stumbling, reaching zombies.

  The exit sign pointed to the left. She turned and slammed on the brakes. A thick bunch of dead blocked their road to the exit ramp.

  “What now?” said Jenny.

  “Hold here for a minute,” said Chimer. He wound down his window and sat out on the door frame. Hutchinson copied him, on the other side.

  They both opened fire. The gun shots echoed loudly in the concrete enclosed car park. Blood sprayed from the heads of the numerous figures blocking their path, and they fell, one by one.

  “Let’s go,” shouted Chimer from outside the car. “We can-”, he let out a sharp yell.

  Andy heard Hutchinson shout an exclamation. There was the sound of gunfire. Andy spun round to try and see what was happening.

  Chimer fell back into the car, holding his right arm.

  Hutchinson took his seat again. “Shit! Fuck! Those fucking zombies! Fuck!” he banged his gun against the back of Andy’s seat.

  “What happened?” said Andy.

  “Just drive, there’s more coming,” said Chimer calmly. He stared hard at Andy.

  “Ok, Jenny let’s go.”

  Jenny put her foot down and the car accelerated towards the group of dead zombies. Andy braced as the car bounced over the two-time dead bodies. A number of sickening thud sounds came from under the car.

  A few seconds later they were on smooth tarmac again.

  “We need to cut your arm off,” said Hutchinson.

  “You got bit?” said Andy, turning around again.

  “Don’t stop, keep going. We can’t risk getting swamped.”

  “Sir, if we cut the arm off, then maybe-”

  Carl let out a yell.
/>   “What’s happening?” said Jenny, glancing furtively in the rear view mirror, fright apparent in her voice.

  “Keep driving,” said Andy.

  Chimer’s eye’s had closed and his body was convulsing.

  “He’s turning into one of them!” shouted Carl, trying to get as far away from Chimer as possible, pushing up against Hutchinson.

  “Ok, get him out of the car,” said Andy.

  Hutchinson shook his head, “No fucking way, we get him help.”

  Chimer let out a gurgling sound, a rattle from deep in his chest. Blood spluttered out of his mouth, through clenched teeth.

  “Jenny, stop the car,” shouted Andy.

  Jenny hit the brakes hard and the car screeched to a halt, halfway down the circular exit ramp.

  Andy jumped out of the car and ran round the front of the bonnet to get the far passenger side.

  Hutchinson also jumped out and ran round the boot.

  They met by the door of the Peugeot.

  “I won’t let you do this,” said Hutchinson.

  “We can’t help him,” said Andy.

  “We have to try.”

  “I’ve seen what happens, close up, I’ve just been on a plane full of these fucking things. It’s too late.” Andy grabbed the door handle.

  Hutchinson grabbed Andy’s hand.

  There was no thought, Andy’s free hand simply swung. It connected hard with Hutchinson on the side of the face. The Private spun against the side of the car.

  Andy punched him again, the pain of the punch jarring through his wrist, his elbow. His knuckles fizzed.

  Hutchinson shook his head, steadying himself.

  Carl and Jenny got out of the car.

  Andy punched Hutchinson again, connecting hard with the soldier’s jaw. That did it. Hutchinson fell onto the floor with a thump.

  Andy pulled open the passenger door.

  Chimer’s body convulsed violently. His legs stuck out straight; his back pushed into the air; his head banged against the back of the seat; his eyes bleed; his cheeks pumped with air, blood spitting from his mouth with furious coughs.

  Andy pulled at the Sergeant’s arm.

  “Help me,” he said.

  Jenny grabbed Chimer’s other arm and pulled.