Then, without waiting for any response, Akira Hins launched herself to one of the young men, drunk, and knocked him down with the stroke of her hardened body.
‘Blimey!’ One of them mumbled. ‘What a beast!’
The young man lying on the ground broke out laughing and took his fist to his mouth, but Akira lifted up her hands and left a long scratch down his chest and face moments later. The young man began to scream, to the astonishment of his mates, who witnessed the entire thing, moving from the site, one of them with the bottle of rum still in his hands.
The blood splashed against the entrance to the shopping centre, the floor, and the windows.
Akira Hins was now the closest thing to cat scratch fever possible.
After this, the zombification process began.
When Akira finished with him, and had given him new life, she headed towards the auditorium, passing through the Hornillo tunnel where a couple was kissing passionately. They fell victim to her. She found four more in the tunnel and repeated ad nauseum.
It became boring.
That was what happened into the hands of the clocked marked dawn.
The zombies had now infected pretty much the entire city of Águilas, taking all of the streets and nearby hamlets.
They waited for the final assault.
The focus of the resistance.
And they waited for their true king, as believes await the second coming of Jesus Christ.
CLXIV
At dawn, when the timid sun peaked out from behind the mountains, Antonio, who had spent the night awake, was reaching for another cigarette, now quieter, with his right foot elevated near the fireplace, which was lower.
His siblings and parents had slept most of the night in spite of all that they had seen. Apparently, sleep and tiredness took hold of them and, on the floor of the terrace, some leaning against others, slept snoring that long night while thousands of people had fallen victim in Águilas.
Tara, the family Doberman, was lying on the ground, ears erect and its front legs crossed in a relaxed position. Its brown eyes did not move away from Antonio, smoking like a chimney.
The time had finally come, and the cock of one of the neighbours, probably a zombie now, crowed twice, indicating seven in the morning. After that was silence.
Ángel, the father, opened his tiny eyes and counted the days that he managed to resist the viral infection. He cleared his throat and put his glasses on.
‘Antonio, what are you doing here guarding?’ His father wanted to know.
‘That’s what I do, dada. I’m going for another fag,’ he said with a scratchy throat. ‘I haven’t been able to sleep a wink all night.
‘Like I said,’ his father replied back with a smile on his lips.
‘Dada, you sleep like a locomotive with your snoring! Not like a beast or a horse, but like a real locomotive!’
‘Of course!’ His father replied facetiously, forcing a smile on his dry lips. ‘Antonio, give me a fag too.’
‘Dada, but you don’t smoke!’
‘Your mother is also snoring,’ he said, signalling to his wife. ‘I bet you didn’t know that she does too.’
‘Dada…’
He passed him a cigarette.
Two minutes later, they both had their cigarettes and stood near the fireplace. Antonio lifted his right foot and let out a fart that sounded like a machine gun.
‘You get that from me,’ Ángel said, laughing.
‘Dada!’ He said, not being able to contain his laugh.
Tara stood up, startled.
So, the new day had begun.
CLXV
They had spent the entire night praying to Jesus Christ, kneeling on their knees without feeling any pain whatsoever. However, their scaly skin was beginning to peel, especially around the palms of their hands.
Father Martín finally fell down and his vocal chords were already in an advanced state of putrefaction, giving him a rough, hoarse voice more and more. The bell rang seven times, scaring off some seagulls that had been resting in the tower.
Light from the sun had now began entering in through the windows of stained glass, with different colours reflecting upon the tabernacle and the pews, all lined up like soldiers.
Father Guillermo let out a series of gasses from his rotting intestines and his face wrinkled empty, with the hope that today would be that day that they got what they desired most: the formula to the second serum of life that would halt the decomposition of their bodies.
This was yet to be seen,
Father Isidoro, the most ambitious of the three, was ready to take in the second serum of life that would grant him eternal life.
Outside, the zombies were still shambling, dragging their feet all over the streets of the city while the infected glopped towards the castle, led by Akira Hins.
The first rays of sunlight led to the discovery of a series of decomposed and fungal corpses and cadavers full of scratches and fresh blood on their faces.
The castle was surrounded.
‘The time has come,’ Father Martín said, abandoning his stance that he had endured for hours. ‘The final assault will take place this morning, we can no longer wait.’
‘Amen,’ Father Guillermo said, rising from the ground. His stomach let out a series of inexorable gasses.
‘As it shall be,’ Father Isidoro said with a lewdness in his smile. His eyes were hiding a surprise. Dwelling in those eyes was a disturbing secret. He wanted it all, there was a gluttony, a craving deep inside of him.
The echo of the church bells filled the air, and when the sun had finally come out from behind the mountains, as if in slow motion, it began to touch every corner of the city of Águilas.
Father Martín picked up his old Bible and started walking towards the front door, a large wooden door which in turn led to another, smaller door at one end.
Father Guillermo nd Father Isidoro followed him.
After making a creaking noise upon opening the door, they took to the streets and their faces lit up with the first rays of sun, unblinking. They could only perceive a vague light.
Father Martín stared at the sun and said, ‘Lord, make this a good day for us.’
It was a selfish act on his part, but at what point was he not selfish?
They began to walk towards the castle, down Antonio Manzanera Street. It was a shortcut that would lead them directly to the slope of the castle.
They walked in silence while the seagulls squawked high in the sky, a seemingly quiet start to the day.
CLXVI
The zombies had also taken Iberia Street, which was at the entrance to Águilas from the Andalusia region through Terreros. Almost at the end of the road by several kilometres was the Red Cross centre and the barracks to the civil guard, which were now both empty.
They had all been taken over a week before, during the initial infections, although no one had previously noticed.
Antonio the Gypsy remained broadcasting to thousands of tellies that still remained lit in a few, closed houses.
The man reported now that they had closed the main roads to the city of Águilas. The undead didn’t have access via the sea, so it would have been serious to cut off port access as well, but the man’s face was serious, showing dark circles under his eyes, and he reported that no living dead had been seen in any boats. But he insisted anyway that the living dead had taken over the city of Águilas, accounting everything from the beginning.
It was now seven in the morning and the first rays of the sun began to warm the soil and air. The sea hummed in the background as a prelude to what would be happening this very day.
The civil guard had also cut off all entry to the city. The blue lights of their vehicles no longer sparkled under the lights of the sea, but were still lit and moving in circles at high speeds.
CLXVII
Inside he castle, the zombies had already entered the labyrinth the previous
evening, though were stalled in there, at dead ends that they couldn’t have predicted. On the outside, the waves continued crashing against the castle wall, the salt water rising, with some zombies falling flat on their faces in the stones and water.
Sebastián had not slept all night, but the others did. They snored and breathed, breaking up the silence of the night. They hadn’t heard any moans or groans. They were safe for the moment.
Though perhaps not.
Sebastían had spent the entire night leafing through his old books that revealed more secrets and mysteries. Deep down, he knew that something terrible was about to happen.
CLXVIII
The lock to the door made an extremely loud noise, but it didn’t matter. The streets were deserted, even though David knew full well that they could be hidden anywhere on the streets.
The key turned in the lock bellow and made a lot of noise, turning it three times and let the lock of the door slip.
It opened with a squeal of hinges and behind the door were sixteen faces peeking out into the streets, they beady eyes scared of the light of day, or at least restless.
Antonio was the first to venture out into the streets, with a cigarette in is lips. His long footsteps made their way over to the metallic grey Ford, without jumping or skirting the dark blood stains on the ground.
José, who was the second to leave the house after Antonio, had the keys in hand, with the ignition keys already in his fingers. It was a large key with a rubber handle.
He opened the door pressing the button on the remote and the alarm sounded with a beep. The lights flickered for a moment.
‘Mama! Dada! Come on, get in the car!’
Ángel and Carmen began their run to the car. Ángel was in the front of the metallic grey Ford and their mother in the back.
Their son, Ángel, pulled out his key and did the same with the red ford, while of the brothers and sisters came out in a line. In the distance, no one could hear a thing, just steps.
All of the doors of the two cars were open and all sixteen piled into the cars. The smallest sat on the laps of the oldest, and Alberto lie in the boot of the car.
The sun was like a fried egg, starting to heat up the atmosphere and their faces began to sweat profusely.
The hands of Ángel’s watch indicated that it was now eight in the morning.
After a hum of engines in the summer morning, they left, perhaps forever, their home.
José engaged first and sped up as he dropped the clutch charply. The tyres of the car squealed on the dried blood and sticky mucus that came out from everywhere.
Behind them, the red car did the same.
They passed Porringui’s house, but he was not leaning out the window of his dining room, nor were his daughters. There was no one at the door.
‘Perhaps Porringui has left early,’ Ángel said jokingly while biting a toothpick that he had in his teeth.
‘Perhaps he has also gone to his house in the fields,’ José replied back, taking off around the corner without stopping.
It all seemed so deserted and silent, only the sound of their vehicles breaking the silence.
They passed the Pascual Brothers’ Store, which was one street away. They stopped at the stop sign and continued.
They were all crammed into the interior of the vehicles, though no one complained.
They had left the door open, they father recalled.
‘Everyone, we have forgotten to lock the door.’
José looked back at him, smiling.
‘Are you planning on returning to pack?’
Ángel shook his head.
They took a small, dirt road that was parallel to the sports centre, which was to their left. The tyres lifted up the dust like smoke. The advanced a few hundred metres when suddenly, they saw him.
‘Dada, is that Juan?’ José asked, pointing a finger without lifting the hand of the steering wheel.
The man in black turned around. The Rolex and his medallions that hung around his neck shined in the sun. It was Juan, but his gaze had changed and his lips were now purple, with dark veins stretching across his neck like dark cobwebs.
‘Dada, that’s not Juan anymore,’ José said, pressing the accelerator. The wheels slipped momentarily over the earth and sent out a cloud of dust from the red Ford.
‘Blimey, he is now one of them!’
José rolled up the window, not hearing a word as the noise of the engine drowned out everything else.
‘That’s not Juan anymore.’
They advanced as fast as the car engines could respond and left behind the vague silhouette of a Juan who was drooling and moaning, alone, in a way that would lead him to the road.
José did not stop to enter the asphalt in the roundabout, staying on the dusty road, as there were no cars, except for a burst of sunshine that momentarily blinded him.
He put the car into third gear and the red pointer framework indicated more than three thousand revolutions, leading into fourth gear, then reducing to third gear to brake slightly, before entering the roundabout that would lead to Vera or Lorca. He chose the path to Lorca, but a few metres ahead, he saw the lights flashing.
They were blue lights.
With men dressed in green.
‘Who are they? Ángel asked, having already bitten through the large toothpick that he had been nibbling on in his dry lips.
‘It’s the civil guard,’ José replied back
‘What do we do now?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Can we talk to them?’ Ángel asked, his mouth forming a straight line on his face.
‘Have you seen a zombie driving, dada?’ José let out a laugh and looked at the mirror where his father was missing a tooth.
‘Zombie? Oh!’
‘Dadaaa…’
‘Can we still make it to the Cuesta de la Cabra, to the Señora del Carmen estate?’
‘Of course, dada.’
‘Then let’s go!’
The civil guard was still a few hundred metres in front of them. They deviated to a dirt road, getting off the motorway.
The dust one against rose from behind the cars.
The civil guard, with guns in hand, walked the width of the road and they saw.
They knew what they had to do.
CLXIX
Father Martín knew about the secret entrance, it was an entrance that had been overlooked by Sebastián. The entrance was hidden beneath a gigantic stone on the hillside, which threatened to fall off one day onto the houses below.
It was a narrow entrance, dark and full of bats, which at that hour of the morning, were now hung upside down sleeping.
Father Martín made his way through the zombies and those infected, walking towards the entrance by a narrow path full of thickets and slippery rocks. With his Bible still in hand, as if glued to his very hand, reached the entrance stone.
Akira Hins, who was at the top of the San José tower, could detect another peculiar smell. It was the smell of their king.
Would there king be in there?
The sun was warming up too and her skin was now blueish under her long fingers. The sun licked her face with avidity.
She was waiting.
CLXX
Álvaro was the first to wake up from his lethargic sleep. He yawned and stretched his arms. On his lap was Carmen, his wife, still with her eyes closed. Every time he looked at her, she was more and more beautiful.
‘Are you awake?’ Sebastián asked, while browsing through one of the pages of an old book. ‘Were you able to sleep well?’
‘Here we are safe, no?’
‘Let’s hope,’ Sebastián said, with a wrinkled finger turning the page under the light of the torches that continued burning.
‘Though, it is not clear what we have to do now.’
‘Wait,’ Sebastián said, still engaged in his reading. ‘Though, there is something that worries me.’
‘What would that be?’
‘The serum of life can be administered from the living to the dead, but it can also be transmitted via a bite or scratch, and the virus can be retransmitted.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘In a way, this can revive the dead. They are all up again.’
‘Come on, today is our lucky day, I believe,’ Álvaro said, outlining a forced smile on his lips.
Sebastián also smiled under his old, beady eyes.
CLXXI
The civil guard had cut the motorway into two, giving access to Águilas from Lorca and Terreros. With g36 assault rifles, they were still standing like soldiers in rows. Their faces were serious and a beret covered part of their faces.
The blue lights flashed before the motorists stuck on the motorway, which were full of sleeping drivers in their cars. Some were now waking up.
During the night, hundred of cars had piled up around the motorways waiting for their return home. Though, many others remained there waiting to enter the city to check on relatives.
The tension in the air rose when a series of civil guard helicopters tore through the blue skies that morning.
All woke up and left their cars, both lethargic and sore.
The helicopters were flying low, lower than the seagulls, and they could clearly be made out. On both side, along the body of the helicopter were the painted words “civil guard”, and the Spanish flag. They were dressed in white and green colours and they engines scared off all birds in their path.
The officers, raising their hands and continued firm, with their G36 assault rifles, endured the fatigue of the radiant sun that morning that was suffocating.
They received their direct orders on the intercom.
CLXXII
The two cars spit out large clouds of dust in their particular race to reach the slopes. Finally, they left the dirt road, tortuous and full of stones, and entered the San Felipe motorway.
They reduced speed and began to take turns pushing the corpses to the side to make way for the cars. From there, they ascended the slopes.
Infected, Zombi The City of the Zol Page 29