by James King
“Come on, Lewis,” said Matt, “I think that you’ve pretty much made your decision as to which side of the fence you’re standing on. What’s the deal with all of this? What – if you’ll pardon me my colourful language – the fuck is going on?”
Lewis spent a few more moments gazing off down the lane, perhaps still seeing phantom army officers waving phantom official secrets paperwork at him. Or maybe waving the muzzle of a gun, promising him a quiet date with Ms Bullet if he ever flapped his chops. But, in the end, he merely nodded his shaved and gleaming head, looked back toward Matt, and said:
“Alright. I’ll tell you what I know. I can’t guarantee that what I know is one hundred percent truth or comprehensive either, but it’s what I know... there’s this base, somewhere up north. Raddex I think it’s called. Well, this morning a helicopter took off from Raddex with a consignment of something deadly...”
So Lewis told them about the helicopter. He told them about the helicopter crashing in the field outside Alchester – something that Matt and Bryan had witnessed anyway. He told them that the helicopter had been carrying some substance that Raddex had been developing for military use. And he told them that, as a result of the incident, his squadron had been scrambled less than an hour ago.
“So what was the helicopter carrying?” asked Matt.
Lewis shook his head, “they wouldn’t tell us any specifics about that. Only that it was some kind of contagious disease, and that whoever was infected with it would become extremely dangerous. There were plenty of rumours of course. Some of the rumours said that it was rabies. Some that it was Ebola. Others said that it was a mystery disease that was worse than all of these. Certainly, our superiors weren’t telling us – it was all on a “need to know” basis. But, from what I’ve seen of these infected, it doesn’t look like they’re suffering from anything that I’ve ever heard of. It looks like they’re...” Lewis trailed off, a sudden expression of uncertainty settling across his face.
“Like zombies in a horror film?” asked Matt.
A grim smile cut through Lewis’s face, “...yeah, I suppose that you could say that. If you were being particularly fanciful. We first came face to face with them about half an hour ago. When we arrived at the cordon, there were a few staggering around on the roadway. To be honest, when I first saw them I thought that the whole thing was a joke, like it was just a few goons doing a hoax or a... well... a....”
“Zombie walk?” Matt offered again.
Lewis nodded, “uh-hu, something like that I suppose. Some of the lads were even making jokes and calling out to them – ‘nice face paint, mate’ – that kind of thing. But then the commanding officer ordered us to open fire on them. Kill them. People who, as far as we were concerned, were just defenceless civilians.”
“And did you?” asked Matt, “fire on them, I mean?”
Lewis swallowed hard, an unhappy expression on his face, “oh yeah, we fired on them alright. An order is an order at the end of the day. The army isn’t a debating society, and all of that. But... well... I think it was at that point that I decided to desert. I know that shooting them was probably the right thing to do, that these things aren’t just people in face paint, that they’re actually dangerous. But even so, I wondered... well... I wondered what if they had just been harmless civvies, and the officer in charge had ordered us to open fire? Would I have done? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that the answer to that was “yes”. I would have opened fire. I would have shot them. And knowing that scared me to death.”
“Well, that’s all very well,” said Becky suddenly, “but what I want to know is what happens now? What have your army friends got planned Mr Lewis? It’s obvious that they mean to cut Alchester off from the rest of the world – and I suppose that I can understand why given what’s happened. But then what? And, even more to the point, how is it going to affect us?”
Lewis nodded slowly, “there are plans to deal with the situation. I’m only a sergeant of course, so I’m not privy to the exact details. I doubt even the senior officers know it all. But there was talk of some ultimate – er, well – solution to the problem, if I can use that rather sinister phrase. Rumours again – when you’re just a squaddie then rumour is usually all you’ve got when it comes to high level strategy, but there was talk of something – some solution to this particular problem – called Protocol Zero.”
“Protocol Zero?” said Matt, as though trying the phrase out for size, “what the hell is that?”
“It’s a military code for a very definite solution to a problem. An invasion, an all-out bombardment, maybe the use of chemical or biological weapons, or...”
“...Or?” this coming from Becky.
“Or nuclear weapons,” Lewis replied.
“Oh fuck,” said Becky. Matt glanced around at her and saw that her face had gone roughly the colour of cream cheese. He supposed that his had too. He looked at Bryan, but Bryan was giving nothing away at present, just sitting there amongst the weeds, still massaging his side, brooding and bearded at the side of the road.
He turned back to Lewis, “so what do you think they’re going to use?”
Lewis shrugged, “this is a bad situation, a tough nut to crack which will probably require a big hammer. My guess would be some kind of chemical weapon, not that my guess is worth any more than any other infantry man’s. There again, this is an extremely full-on situation, so who knows? Maybe it might even be nuclear. What I do know is that we – that is, the military – are to withdraw to a minimum of twenty miles from the current cordon position. So whatever it is that they’ll be using, it ain’t just going to be hand grenades.”
The sudden sound of laughter. Low, sinister, somehow strangely knowing. They all looked around, and there was Bryan, sat at the side of the road, his hand still massaging his side, and grinning. Matt realised that this was the first time that he had seen Bryan smile – certainly the first time today, maybe the first time in forever. And it was not a particularly reassuring sight, “...I told you...” Bryan said, “...I told you that this was the end of days, I told you that this was The Apocalypse. And now it is upon us.”
“Bryan...” said Becky, testiness loud in her voice, “...really not helping...”
“He’s right though,” said Lewis, “in a way. This a serious situation. Who knows, it might even be the end of days. Once Protocol Zero is launched, it might be the end of all our days. Which is a really good reason why we need to get the hell out of this area. There’s another reason why I want to get out of here to, a reason that is more personal to me...” Lewis trailed off, as though suddenly unsure whether to continue.
“And what reason might that be?” Becky prompted.
“Well...” Lewis went on, “...before we were dispatched from the military base, we were all of us given injections. They didn’t tell us what the injections were for, but the word was that it was protection against whatever it was that had been aboard the helicopter, and that had infected Alchester. That it wasn’t just toxic but contagious, like a disease would be.”
“Oh great...” said Becky, horror on her face.
“It makes sense though...” said Matt, “I mean, it wasn’t just dead people that this thing was affecting. It wasn’t just the people in the cemetery. There was my mother, and Nick...”
“Don’t even mention that,” said Becky, her voice nothing more than a horrified whisper.
“The problem for me though,” Lewis continued, “is that this vaccine, or whatever was in the hypodermic, won’t last forever. Again, there was nothing official about this, but it was the word on the street, and the word on the street usually has more than a grain of truth in it. So I need to get back somewhere where I can get the vaccine – or at least out of the infected area. I suppose I should have thought that through before I broke ranks back there on the lane, but there you go... the heat of battle and all of that. I’ve never been great at thinking things through to be honest. I suppose that’s why I’ve ne
ver risen onward and upward through the ranks.”
“What about us then?” asked Becky.
“What about you what?” asked Lewis with a shrug, and a somewhat dark grin, “why haven’t you risen through the ranks?”
“No –,” said Becky, her voice tinged with impatience, “what I mean is – we haven’t been given injections at all, and yet we’re fine. Well, sort of. At least, we’re not staggering around with our jaws hung open seeking the flesh of the living. Why haven’t we been turned?”
All four of them were silent for a moment. Becky’s question seemed to hang in the air like a baleful odour. They glanced at each other uneasily during that moment, perhaps looking for signs of blank eyes or drooling jaws, but all seemed well thus far. Their faces all looked pale, Matt decided, but that was probably more due to them being scared out of their minds rather than anything more sinister.
“I don’t know,” Lewis said at last, “I’m a soldier, not a doctor. Maybe you’ve got some kind of immunity to it. I mean, none of you have been bitten or scratched by any of these things have you?”
They all glanced warily down at their bodies, suddenly hunting for hitherto unnoticed wounds or scratches. Matt certainly had a few cuts and scrapes - most especially on his head where it had collided with the gravestone – but he didn’t think that any of them had come from the teeth or claws of any of the zombies. Then he remembered that black substance that had been on his shoe – the oil or tar or slime or whatever the hell it had been that had come out of the helicopter. Had that been the cause of the reanimation that had happened in the cemetery? He remembered how it had seemed to sink into the earth above the grave... or had that just been a hallucination brought on by the head wound? He couldn’t be sure; his memory of the events was foggy, uncertain, nightmarish but unreal. But whatever the case, he hadn’t been turned into a zombie.
“At any rate, even if you haven’t been bitten...” Lewis was saying, “there seems to be the idea that this, whatever it is, is airborne – hence, I guess, the gas masks. Like I said, I can only guess that all three of you have got some kind of immunity to it.”
“Right, so the main thing is that we somehow get the hell out of here,” said Matt, “before we get killed by the living dead, before your vaccine runs out, or before we get nuked by the army.”
“Yep,” Lewis replied, “one hundred percent agreed on that.”
“And how exactly are we going to do that?” asked Becky, “if the whole town is encircled by the military?”
“That might not be as difficult as it first seems,” said Lewis, “like I say, we – the military – were going to retreat twenty miles as soon as the order was put through. By my reckoning, the order should be put through pretty soon, so once the army start moving out, that’ll be our chance. Not a great chance admittedly, but better than trying to make it through a solid cordon.”
“Right,” said Matt, “my car’s abandoned down on one of the roads out of Alchester. I suggest we make for it – wheeled transport being preferable to walking I guess.”
“The last time we saw your car it was covered in Zombies,” Becky reminded him.
“Yeah, but we didn’t have guns then did we. And there was only two of us. Now I think that we’ll have a much better chance.”
Becky shrugged, “worth a shot I guess. If you’ll pardon the pun.”
“Right,” said Lewis, “enough of the conversation then. Show me to where this car is, then let’s get the hell out.”
They turned and started their hurried journey down the lane. But they were halted by a sudden voice.
“Wait!”
They stopped, looked around. Matt glanced back, and his heart sank. There stood Bryan at the side of the road, his eyes narrowed behind the heavy lenses of his glasses, and his gun in his hands. The gun was raised – and it was pointed at them.
“You’re not going with him are you?”
“Bryan - ,” said Matt, “we seriously haven’t got time for this.”
“Harbinger,” said Bryan, raising his gun and pointing it in Lewis’s direction, “spy... sent by the forces of discord to cozen us from the true path...”
“Mate - ,” said Lewis, “I seriously wouldn’t point that pop gun at me. Sorry to draw attention, but mine’s bigger than yours.”
“It’s alright,” Becky said suddenly, “He’s just a bit...” she raised her hand, pointed her finger, and circled it in front of her head.
“You don’t say...” Lewis replied.
“We cannot follow this harbinger!” Bryan cried, “he has been sent by Them! Like the serpent in the Garden of Eden he has come to us, and tempts us with his sweet and poisoned apples!”
Lewis offered a brief snigger, “listen mate, my apples might be sweet, but they’re not - ,”
“Silence!” Bryan roared, suddenly apoplectic, beside himself, his eyes no longer narrowed but bulging from out of his head as though at any moment they might pop out and bounce along the pavement like ping pong balls, “I will listen to no more of your lies. I see through your beguilement! And now, like a sword of burning gold, like an arrow of desire, my judgement will fall!”
Bryan brandished his gun, the strong sunlight glinting off its barrel. For one terrible moment, Matt was convinced that the other man was actually about to use it, that he was going to shoot this soldier dead in the street, or that maybe the soldier would shoot him, or perhaps they’d both shoot each other and it would just be him and Becky again, plus two smoking guns that neither of them knew how to use.
But then there came the explosion.
Sudden, huge booming and monstrous. All three of them cringed down, Bryan dropping his gun, Lewis instinctively crouching into a defensive posture, his own gun raised, Matt simply hunkered downward, his head seeming to sink into his shoulders like a turtle into its shell. From the direction of Alchester, there came a bright flash, then the sight of fire and debris leaping upward and outward, and then smoke, boiling upward, black and dense, forming a mushroom cloud that seethed upward into the clear blue of the sky. Matt was reminded once again of the smoke that had risen from the crashed helicopter, and also of other explosions that he had seen on TV, footage of long ago tests of bombs powerful enough to raise cities and perhaps end life on earth.
“What the fuck!” cried Becky, then, “- is this your guys, Lewis? Have they started this pissed-up zero thing already?”
Matt glanced around at Lewis. He was still crouched downward, one knee to the tarmac, the huge and deadly apparatus of his machine gun held out before him. He was frowning, and a profoundly confused expression had gripped his face. At last he shook his head.
“No, I don’t think its Protocol Zero,” Lewis said at last, “not yet. It’s too early. Withdrawal from the cordon wasn’t scheduled until 10:30, and its now,” he glanced at his wrist watch, “quarter past. So no – not unless there’s been a major fuck up – or we weren’t being given the full facts. To be honest, not being given the full facts wouldn’t surprise me. That was one reason why I deserted. No, something random must have exploded in the town, probably as a result of the infected screwing around with it and - oh – oh shit....”
“What?” asked Matt.
Lewis simply gestured down the lane with his gun. Matt looked off in that direction – and saw them. Zombies. Hundreds of them, possibly thousands. They staggered forward, lurching, moaning, some crawling on all fours, all with blank eyes and drooling mouths, all dead and yet reborn in their rotting, stinking flesh. Some of them were on fire – doubtless caused by the explosion - flames leaping from their arms, their legs, some even having heads consumed by flame, transformed into living torches. But it didn’t seem to impede them. Nor, oddly enough, did the flames seem to destroy them, to reduce them to ash. Instead, the fire seemed to energise them, the ones that were on fire moving more quickly, and with a greater intent than those who remained cold. They looked like demons from hell, the burning ones, re-birthed in fire, hell flame not consuming them but
becoming them, filling their veins, flesh, and cells with a new respiration, a combustion of unholy violence. As Matt watched, one of them threw back its head, opened its jaws, and seemed to drink in the flames, inhaling them as though they were some rare atmosphere that birthed a sickly and unnatural life.
“Alright,” said Lewis, rising from his crouch, “time we got the fuck out. You say this car of yours is close by?”
“Well, not exactly close,” said Matt, “but it won’t take us long to get there.”
“Let’s go then,” Lewis returned, “we’ve got no choice now. No time either. The infected are on their way, and I have an idea that Protocol Zero might be set forward by a few minutes if the situation has accelerated. Whatever, we’ve got to get to the car. It’s our best hope. Maybe our only hope.”
They turned and headed down the lane. Bryan reached down, snatched up his gun, and for a moment Matt wondered what he was going to do with it – perhaps try some further heroics in front of the zombie hoard as he had done at the military cordon. Either that or shoot Lewis in the back. But, mercifully, he did neither, merely following on at a hurried pace, a fear in his face that made Matt think that there was hope for him after all.
And so they fled. Matt in the lead, seeking the turning in the lane which would, he knew, take them to the road where his car was parked. But what then? To be cut down with machine gun fire at the military cordon? To be vaporised by whatever this Protocol Zero unleashed? Or to be overtaken by the living dead: devoured, rended, or perhaps to be transformed into glassy-eyed, drooling horrors. Matt didn’t know – he doubted that any of them knew. All that they could do was to survive – from one minute to the next. From one second to the next.