Infected, Zombi The City of the Zol

by Hernández, Claudio

  Those who were still ignorant of the situation remained on the beach, continuing to sunbathe in the now advancing summer afternoon sun, oblivious to both the blood and chaos. Finally, a civil guard helicopter flew over the affected areas, calling attention to all beach goers from one end to the other.

  ‘This is an evacuation!’ A voice exclaimed over the helicopter loudspeaker. ‘I repeat, this is an evacuation! Everyone to their homes immediately, we are on alert…’ he was silent for a moment and looked at his partner.

  ‘Tell them that it is a tsunami.’

  ‘This is a tsunami evacuation! It big enough to arrive to the city roads. Everyone must evacuate to their homes now!’

  The zombies below looked up at the sky with opaque white eyes, sans vision, but guided by the noise of the helicopters. From there, it was difficult to distinguish the humans from the zombies, so they dared not to lower any further. The helicopter blades kicked up the sand and shook up the beach towels laid upon the sand.

  The helicopter continued to fly over the city, and this time, passed over the castle, hovering over it as if suspended by a string.

  ‘Remain there in the castle! It is the best thing for you all!’ The voice from the helicopter said.

  ‘We know!’ Javier said, trying to cut through the chopping sounds of the helicopter blades. The blades continued stirring, causing a racket and blowing air everywhere. The zombies in the Spanish Plaza and on the beach, all turned towards the castle, the origin of the intense noise. A while later, the helicopter continued its flight across the city. The civil guard had already warned of the disaster and its magnitude to the barracks, asking for reinforcements and a quarantine to be placed on the city. The plan was set into motion, but no evacuation decisions had been executed yet.

  ‘Stay where you are until all reinforcements have arrived!’

  ‘Very well!’ Álvaro exclaimed.

  The men were joyed to hear of the reinforcements, and their shouts could almost be heard through the helicopter blades. What could be seen from the air now was a city devastated by the attack and innocents still wandering around from one part to another. Humans were locking themselves into their homes while zombies continued shambling. In other parts of the city, like in the Juan Carlos I district, and at the end of the high street, the terror had yet to arrive.

  XXII

  Juan looped the recording connected to the uplink modulator on the telly, and climbed the three levels up the city call to the terrace with Diego. All chancellors from all parties and the mayor had gathered in the panic room. Most of them who had not known of the zombie plague had fallen prey to them and were already one of the undead army. The mayor himself spoke with the Murcia and Lorca security forces, requesting backup, saying that they had become caught up in a bout of non-stop street violence.

  From the terrace, Juan and Diego laid witness to all of the castle survivors who were watching from the roof, clearly and closely. They were very tiny from their line of sight, though could still be seen regardless.

  ‘There are people in the castle,’ Juan commented.

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘They are probably safer there.’

  ‘Indeed, it is very high up.’

  ‘It also has only one entrance that can be sealed up tight.’

  ‘Is the lift blocked?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think that the undead could operate the lift anyway,’ Juan replied back, smiling.

  ‘True,’ Diego nodded, agreeing. It was about evening time now, and a hard day had just passed. They were exhausted, just like everyone else locked up in the building.

  Diego waved his arms towards the castle, to see if they could see. Curiously, they saw and replied back. One of the tour guides waved his arms back. Shouting would have been useless, as they were too far away, but at least everyone had a perception of where they were. In the castle, however, they had the advantage of binoculars.

  After communicating with the people in the castle, they went back down into the building again. At least now Juan determined that there were others, safe, in the San Juan de las Águilas castle. They were probably safer there than they would be in their own homes. They were clearly very exhausted, but Juan picked up the microphone once again and continued his broadcast, ensuring that more people be saved.

  The local radio station was in another building, but without a radio receiver, he had no idea if it worked or not. Though, it would have been hard to believe that actual zombies were invading, though it would have been another viable option for communication with the population. The sun had now begun to hide behind the horizon like a ball of red fire, leading into night. The people locked away in the building were silent, but every once in a while, someone would shout out as a zombie passed by the glass door.

  It all seemed like a dream, a cruel nightmare.

  XXIII

  Night indicated to the citizens of Águiles that it was now quite late, yet the zombies were still shambling throughout the streets, but now with nothing to eat. The DTT channel that had been broadcasted from the city hall had taken effect, and a large majority of people had taken shelter in their homes. Everyone was now aware of the existence of zombies. Now, it was all about waiting. There was nothing else logical to do other than wait for the zombies to decompose and stop in their tracks. It had also been announced that more civil guard helicopters would be arriving in the morning.

  In any case, the real terror remained, although now much quieter. Father Martín had fallen asleep next two his two infect altar boys. His prayers were now mental, as if realising that even the wicked needed a rest from their prayers. The night advanced more and more, disappearing into the exhaustion of the day, everything seeming like a dream, including to those who were currently trapped in the castle.

  It was then that the two pastors from the Carmen Church had arrived to the San José Church, the bastion of Father Martín, Fathers Guillermo and Isidoro.

  ‘What is happening, Father Martín? Why are you doing this?’ Father Guillermo asked, still wearing his cassock.

  ‘What is happening is what should have happened a long time ago,’ Father Martín replied, jokingly.

  ‘This is heresy!’ Father Isidoro cried out. ‘We know what you have been doing, with your experiments with the dead, and now this?

  ‘This is true. We have known since the beginning, though we did our best to protect you. Though, this time, you have gone too far,’ Father Guillermo said.

  ‘Oh, of course. You knew of it then you hid it from the rest of the world. Not even a hint of help on your part, in order to save the wicked…’

  ‘Not exactly!’ Father Guillermo interrupted, stretching out his arm.

  ‘Don’t touch me… ’ Father Martín mumbled, ‘… unless you want to become infected.’ His eyes shined in the darkness, next to the two altar servers who followed him at his side.

  ‘Then go ahead, infect me!’ Father Guillermo exclaimed angrily. ‘If you do not plan to stop this, then touch me and I will join you.’

  ‘This cannot come to pass, I am the only one who can continue and the intermediary between God and men.’

  ‘Then we will be three,’ Father Isidoro replied.

  ‘No, no no no. This cannot be,’ Father Martín said, leaning back with his two altar servers covering him, facing the two with furious glares. This happened with the addition of two zombies entering into the church relentlessly, one of them dressed in jeans.

  ‘Then you must stop this!’ Father Guillermo ordered.

  ‘That is impossible,’ Father Martín replied angrily. ‘Though, on second thought…’ he continued. ‘You would only be two more revived.’ He looked at them with a contemptuous and glittering look in his eyes, in the shadows of the church, lit with candles, forming dancing shadows on all sides.

  And as if telepathically ordered, the two zombified altar boys walked towards them with outstretched arms, at a speed that made them zig-zag to their ta
rgets. However, Father Guillermo and Father Isidoro were not as agile, what with their osteoarthritis and advanced old age. The zombies and the zombified altar servers surrounded them with ease and shortly afterwards they were both infected with the snapping of teeth.

  Meanwhile, Father Martín opened his arms wide and shouted in the middle of the night, happy for the events that had happened, ‘NOW I AM REBORN!’ His cry echoed inexorably, climbing the walls of the church.

  XXIV

  Javier was the first to witness the sunrise, being the first on guard for the last four hours. He was partnered with one of the hikers and everything was peaceful. Underneath the wall the zombies had not piled up. They had been too busy wandering the empty streets to the north of the city. Juan’s message, which had been broadcasted from city hall, had come into full effect, and no one was leaving their homes. Now, for the first time since the plague had begun, the zombies were alone in the streets.

  Now, the zombies and especially Father Martín had little to work with. In reality, the people of Águilas were sheltered, and they reinforced their homes in order to wait for the help of the civil guard. If you were careless, the zombies could get you. You had to be sharp. However, new forms of recruitment had to be discovered, and luckily, Father Martín had a plan. He knew that many people had crowded into the city hall, seeking shelter and waiting for reinforcements. Infecting only one of them would be enough to flush them all out. In the castle, it would be more difficult, as it was a very fortified stronghold. It was very high up and there was only one entrance, and that entrance was well armoured.

  In less than two hours, a fleet of helicopters would arrive in Águilas and would begin the quarantine. Time was pressed for Father Martín.

  Sitting in front of the metal doors on Vicente Aranda Street, the second set of doors to the city hall, Father Martín smiled contemptuously with a glitter in his eyes that surpassed the light of dawn. His two altar servers were both standing at his side.

  ‘Come to me, young man. Give me your hand. There is no one out here.’

  There was a small child awake next to the door. The guard was with the rest of the people inside the building centre. There was no one except for this young man of about fifteen or sixteen years. He was awake, and had been staring at Father Martín. His voice was warm and soft, and it spread through the air like a scent. When he put his mind to it, Father Martín knew how to charm others.

  ‘Come outside, come to me. Just open the door.’

  The young man put his finger on the button next to the glass door. He pressed it. Instantly, the outer metal door began to squeak with the glass, working in tandem with the motion detector.

  Suddenly, Juan shook from his sleep upon hearing the screeching of the gears in the door. Though, by the time that he had realised what was happening, it was too late. One of the altar boys had approached the boy and bit his arm. It was only a slight bite, only to infect. The frightened young man leaned back and closed the door again, pressing the button with visible rapidity.

  Juan had reached the exact area where the boy was, but father Martín and the two altar servers had already fled.

  ‘What happened?!’ Juan asked.

  ‘Nothing!’ The young man exclaimed, hastily hiding his arm.

  The young man remained cognate and spoke of nothing during those forty minutes that it took for him to become a zombie.

  In the castle, Javier, Álvaro, and the rest of the crowd were still sleeping, oblivious to what was happening in the city hall.

  XXV

  The young man’s zombification process had already begun, with small seizures and a slight fever. He hid out in a corner, away from the crowd, and his eyes began to turn an opaque white. Finally, the process was complete. A middle-aged woman had approached him, and quickly received a bite to the jugular, the popular area of infection, resulting in quick death and even quicker infection. The crowd began to scream and move quickly to the upper levels, but the two zombies soon became four, then eight…

  Juan ran to the main door of the city hall, but not before looking out the window where the television signal was being transmitted. He opened it, with Diego at his side, hoping to make a run for the castle. The rowdy crowd of people behind them were still becoming infected, with others turning around to notice Juan and Diego. Fortunately, the undead were not as fast as the living, though they did keep a steady pace.

  Now, from the castle, one could see what was happening from outside the city hall. Two men were running and a line of zombies behind them walked erratically, but surely, to where they wanted to go.

  Juan and Diego walked up the narrow stairs leading to the castle, with a heaviness in their chest from a lack of oxygen and adrenaline. Their hearts were beating like raging stallions under their chests. Notwithstanding, they managed to make it to the castle gates.

  ‘Why must we run so much? The spectres are not as fast as we are,’ Diego said to Juan as he gasped from exhaustion.

  ‘Easy, because we need to convince the people in the castle to let us in.’

  And so it was. Javier furrowed his brow, observing Juan for a long time. Watching him move energetically and not showing any abrasions on his body. He finally authorised them entry.

  ‘Thank you so much! Diego exclaimed. ‘There were many chasing us!’

  ‘I know, I could see the from here,’ Javier stated.

  And in less than thirty minutes, the zombies that were in the city hall had skirted the castle, trying to climb its walls with no success. Father Martín rose from his prayers, realising that the survivors were psychologically strong, and knew fairly well how to distinguish the humans from the undead, even with his now ragged cassock. It was not natural for the zombies to disobey his orders, but they persisted there, trying to climb the twenty-metre-high wall.

  With that, several civil guard helicopters approached the area with thunderous noise.

  ‘WE ARE CURRENTLY UNDER QUARANTINE, DISINFECTION IS CURRENTLY UNDERWAY. WAIT FOR NEW INSTRUCTIONS ON THE HOUR.’

  Through the megaphone, it sounded like a halo of hope for a hard agony that laid ahead. They were all trapped and did now know for how long the quarantine would be in effect. Oh God, this disaster has only begun, Javier thought.

  Prelude

  Part Two

  The undead walked until they were completely decomposed and rotten, then they fell to the ground inert. With regards to their kneecaps, when they had finally rotted away and disconnected from the leg, they would limp from side to side. Then they would lose their balance and their bodies, dead and rotten, and following behind him, would crumble to the ground. But even bound to the ground, they could easily catch you with their cold, cadaverous hands, and what was worse, they could still bite you if they still had a bit of muscle in their jaws. And like that, you were infected. This is how the struggle for survival continues. Those furious eyes, those rotting wanderers, those who followed him.

  Part Two

  Those who follow Him

  Álvaro and Javier were observing, along with their wives, Carmen and Susana, as Juan and Diego had arrived. Those who had been locked in the castle were few, not too many. Juan and Diego didn’t stand out much from the group. The leaders of the group were Álvaro and Javier, carrying the baton. The rest were mainly tourists, much like Susana and Carmen. Though, now there were two new men in the group, they had been saved from the zombies who had now surrounded the castle, trying to peer over the edge of the roof and climbing the walls. Father Martín began to bless the area, moving his hand furiously as he shook an enormous cross tied to a chain that shined in the sun.

  Javier still held his rifle tightly in his hands, though had already left the lower part of the castle, the San Pedro section. Álvaro had left his rifle leaning against the wall in the upper part of the castle, the San Juan section. Why did they have rifles? Good question.

  They had been planning a hunt after visiting the San Juan Castle, near the Cuesta de
la Sabra range. Though, damn it, there were hardly any animals to hunt there, unless one was hunting turtle…

  The tourists at the base of the towers were conversing, all crowded to one side of the wall. Occasionally, someone would hurl an insult and someone would spit in another’s face. Were they the only survivors? Probably not.

  Now they had to reorganise everything against. Someone had to be the elected leader that the others would follow, just as the zombies walked behind Father Martín. But Álvaro and Javier’s differences soon got the better of them. They fought for command but their perspectives always got in the way of things. Meanwhile, the zombies continued outside, moaning on the hills, falling into the bushes, scratching themselves on the rugged terrain, and leaving bits of skin behind.

  Were they completely surrounded? Was this the end? There were too many questions and not a single answer. Nor did they know of the fate of the city, although they often heard the shots breaking the silence of the night, with lights flashing in the centre of the city, while watching the sight from above, like an architect and his model.

  Juan and Diego had already dealt with explaining to a large portion of the city what had happened in the city centre, the city hall, in the children’s’ park, and the spider web of streets emanating from the Spanish Plaza. However, fear was still present in their faces, certain that they would die there in the castle and that they were the only ones in Águilas left alive.

  Though they were wrong in just about everything.