Day Zed: The Outbreak

by Smith, Charles

  “Yeah I’m good, just a little shook up” Declan lied.

  Making it up onto the first garage roof was relatively easy they up climbed some pallets stacked to the side of it. The single stories climb up the metal drainpipe had taken longer, and with the weight of their packs, and equipment had been strength sapping. They took a few minutes to get their breath back, the view from where they crouched was shocking for them, there were now thousands of people out on the streets attempting to escape the capitol, and amongst these were clearly many zombies attacking them. As they walked across the tiled rooftops, people looked up, and pleaded for their help; calling out to them asking where was safe? Others just screamed abuse at them, blamed them that it wasn’t safe, and blamed them for the flood of people barring their way to safety. The soldiers knew that they couldn’t help, to attempt to would mean suicide, no matter how difficult they had to continue their trek along the rooftops.

  They reached the end of the rooftops in no time at all and they had easily passed over a thousand people marooned on the roads below. As they looked down across the road they could see just how many infected there were as they attacked the crowds of scared and trapped people. By the minute, the number of zombies was increasing, with a horde so large, they were infecting and turning people at an alarming rate. The only safe way down was to shimmy across the large advertising billboard which hung from the last house, its edge ended over the fence guarding the train station; luckily the flat roof of the station platform would break their fall.

  “Leave your pack here Dec” Morgan called out as he began to shimmy over.

  Declan dropped the pack and followed his partner, his arm throbbed and the effort required to hold his weight whilst he manoeuvred across made the pain worse. He held on for dear life, until he reached the end, and gripped on as he moved down the edge of the hoarding. Sheer exhaustion and pain meant that Declan didn’t ponder the ten foot drop below him as he plummeted to the roof below, slightly jarring his ankle, before Morgan helped pick him up. Now all they had to do was drop from the roof onto the station below, the only problem with that was there were at least thirty zombies on that platform milling about aimlessly.

  Although the station staff had locked up the entrance to the station, some people had found their way onto the platforms. Morgan thought that maybe some of the people trying to escape had climbed the fence after becoming infected, however they had come to be here was irrelevant now they had to make their way to the platform below, and somehow had to the zombies below in order to travel the rest of the route to safety at the bunker.

  1st July, Alvor, Portugal, 11:52 am

  With the holiday season fast approaching, Alvor would again see its usual quota of holiday makers arriving to indulge in an over abundance of sun, rich exotic food and drink. With more people arriving in the Algarve, the more flights were introduced to Faro. On the evening that the “Day Zed” virus was introduced to the airport lounges, four flights had ferried over twelve hundred infected passengers, into the general population.

  Every year the resort would welcome in the region of two million British tourists, the majority of these being between July and September. The towns would close down for the winter season towards the end of September and just a few bars and eateries would remain open to serve the few visitors that would arrive weekly up until March, giving the resorts some much needed time to prepare for the busy summer ahead.

  Unfortunately the Algarve could never have prepared for such a high volume of tourists arriving at the national airport carrying the most deadly disease ever known to mankind. These unfortunate tourists had brought the virus through customs and onto the plane where it had gradually attacked their immune systems, after a brief three hour flight, and a quick pass through customs, many were on their way in coaches or buses to the hotels before the virus began crippling them. Once arriving at their destinations, they had gone to their rooms to sleep of the effects of the flu. In the morning unwitting staff were responsible for them leaving their rooms, and infecting the Algarve at an unprecedented rate. The number of infected in the resorts far outweighed the number of infected working at airport lounges therefore the rate and spread of infection was far more concentrated than that of London to start with.

  Paul Costello had flown over to Alvor at the start of May, and after two weeks of searching, had finally secured himself a job in the big Irish bar situated in the heart of the former fishing village. The work was hard and the hours long, but it had been a dream for him to work abroad for as long as he could remember. Paul had worked as a postman for four years after leaving school, he had never been happy in the job, and always looked forward to his twice a year holiday’s to the resort where he had been visiting since he was a young child with his family.

  The pay for his hours in the bar was poor, and what made the job worthwhile were the tips that he and the other staff would share from the sale of meals. With economy in mind he had secured the rental of a one bed apartment in the next village from Alvor, as it was possible to rent at a cheaper rate and over a long term. He had taken out a six month rent agreement; in the hope that he would be able to secure himself work over the winter once he was an established worker during the summer season. Last night had been a late one, after finishing work in the bar a little after two in the morning, and he had met up with friends, and gone out drinking for the night.

  The drink had flowed too easily and Paul now awake and severely hung over, he had no idea as to what time he had returned home, or what the name of the girl sound asleep in his bed was. He had only just woken up and as it was his day off was not in a rush to get out and about today. After adjusting to the thumping inside of his head Paul made his way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle switch to make himself a cup of coffee. Whilst waiting for it to boil, he walked across the open plan lounge to the small television and switched it on. He returned to the kitchen, made the cup of coffee and filled a bowl with cereal and milk. Settling down into the chair, with his breakfast spoils at hand, he studied the TV, whatever was being displayed on the TV in front of him, he didn’t understand, he couldn’t speak Portuguese, but sometimes was lucky enough to catch a film without dubbing that he could actually watch.

  Giving up with the newsreader sitting behind a desk he changed the channel and amazingly it was the same newsreader. Changing the channel a further three times to check all of the terrestrial channels revealed the same newsreader. Paul turned the screen off, and with nothing to keep his interest, he fell back to sleep on the couch.

  Paul didn’t know how long he had been asleep, as he hadn’t looked to see what time he had woken, but the clock in the lounge now told him that is was shortly after one in the afternoon. The thumping headache that he had had was now residing, and with his joints grumbling he stood, and walked back over to his bedroom. The young girl still slept in the bed, and judging by her pale skin colour, she must have been a tourist on one of the first few days of her vacation. Trying to be sympathetic and not wanting to alarm the girl he gently shook her, and there was no movement. After a trying a second time she stirred and turned from her side onto her back with a groan, judging by the dark rings under her eyes, she was suffering from a far greater hangover than he was, and looking at the bed sheet that was covered in vomit she must have been sick whilst he slept in the lounge.

  “Are you okay?” he asked the young blonde girl.

  “No, I feel like shit, have done ever since that maniac bit me this morning and you helped get him off” she replied.

  Paul couldn’t remember the incident she mentioned; at least he had done a good deed in helping her out. Judging by the nakedness that they both shared, the girl must have slept with him when they got back to his apartment. The girl had drifted back to sleep now, and it would probably be some time before he could ask her to recant the incident of the biting man when she felt better. Deciding to leave the girl for another hour, Paul went to the bathroom, started the shower and climbed in to begin scrub
bing the odours of alcohol and sex from his body. After a shower, and changing into clean clothes Paul went to the kitchen and made two drinks, taking them back into his bedroom he stopped at the door.

  The girl had kicked the thin white sheet off of herself and her whole body was now rocked with spasms, Paul dropped the cups and ran to the bed side not sure what to do, but out of instinct wanting to help. He held the girls hands as she continued to spasm, and suddenly the spasms stopped. At first thinking that this would a good thing he breathed a sigh of relief.

  It wasn’t until he noticed that the girls chest wasn’t rising from an intake of oxygen that Paul began to worry, watching for the rise and fall of her chest, he soon realised that she was dead. He then moved his ear to her lips to listen for a breath, there was none, whoever the girl was in his bed, she now lay dead, explaining this to the authorities in a foreign country wasn’t going to be easiest task!

  He still stood paralysed to the same spot in shock, with his ear pressed to the girl’s lips, he wasn’t able to see that her eyes had opened, her lungs no longer worked so she didn’t start breathing, and it wasn’t until he felt her lips begin to move, that he started to turn his head to face her. Unfortunately for Paul she had moved her lips to open her mouth in order to clamp her black teeth down upon his ear, as he turned his head she bit down, and half his ear was torn away. Stumbling backwards Paul edged out of the room whilst watching as the zombie chewed and then swallowed the chunk of his ear. As the wound pumped blood, and stung, from the infection Paul clambered back upright, he then turned and ran out of his apartment. He jumped over the saddle of his mountain bike and careered off at full speed to get into Alvor, whatever that bitch had done he was going to need medical attention.

  The ride took Paul fifteen minutes, and usually it took only ten, but the throbbing that came from his damaged ear had slowed him down. The urge to stop and vomit had stopped him twice on his journey, and he cursed the hangover returning to assault him. The private hospital was just a little further up the road from the main drag of the tourist strip, was he hallucinating? All over the town more of these zombies shuffled, some were busy eating fallen victims, others chased new prey.

  The scenes at the hospital were far worse nearly every one there had been bitten and turned. The only other bodies there that hadn’t turned had been eaten, and totally stripped of all flesh. Paul turned and raced to the one place he now hoped would be safe, and after just a few minutes he had made it to his workplace. He had to avoid several zombies as they lurched towards him, and pulling the key out of his pocket, he had then managed to close and lock the door back up. The bar didn’t open until seven in the evening, and staff did not have to be in work until five. His assumptions had been right and the bar was safe. The security shutters on the front windows, and doors stopped the zombies banging on the front of the building from getting inside and attacking him, and of that he was thankful. The throbbing in his ear got worse, and after wrapping his head in a towel, he laid down to get some rest, he was sure he would feel better later as soon as the dreaded hangover had gone.

  Many of the holiday makers, who had left their hotels to escape the infected, had escaped to the beaches, believing that the sea in some way would save them. The screaming started as the first wave of zombies staggered onto the beach at Alvor. Their movement was even more awkward across the soft golden sands of Alvor beach. In their past these holiday makers had come to the beach to absorb the rays of the sun, and enjoy the aromas of the sea air, now they came to absorb the flesh of the uninfected. The stranded survivors realised that they had made a mistake, the beach wouldn’t be their saviour, instead it would be their doom, they had trapped themselves, and now this would be their final resting place, a resting place that its guests would no longer require sun lotions or jugs of Sangria.

  1st July, East Croydon, London, 1pm

  On the count of three Declan and Morgan jumped to the platform, as they fell the distance Morgan preyed that bones wouldn’t be broken, as they would have to be on their feet immediately to deal with the zombies on the stations platforms. With six platforms in all at the station the soldiers had agreed that they deal purely with the zombies on their own platform, which was numbered five and six. As they landed the pain shot up Morgan’s legs, and despite the military grade boots he wore the shock of the tarmac surface still penetrated his bones, he was on his feet in seconds and relieved that the bones hadn’t shattered. Declan was not so lucky he had got down with a sickening thud, and had at least twisted an ankle, nevertheless he still positioned himself on the ground with his rifle at the ready and started to fire into the heads of zombies as they approached him.

  The noise from the rifle instantly attracted the attention of every zombie in the area as they began to shuffle towards the two soldiers. Morgan had quickly dealt with the four zombies the other side of him, and now turned to help Declan finish off the remaining five his side, they were not too concerned at the zombies that had walked off the edge of the next platform, as there was now a five foot climb to their platform, and the zombies were not able to drag themselves up. As the last of the monsters were dealt with Morgan rushed to Declan’s side and helped stand him up.

  “How bad is it Dec? Can you move?” he asked Declan.

  “I’ll make it, I won’t break any speed records, but I’ll be alright”

  Declan turned the rifle upside down and used the stock of the gun as an improvised crutch, although he could move, every step he took he caused him to wince in pain. Morgan went to wrap his arm around his injured partner, but Declan shrugged him off and told him

  “You’ll need both hands, Mate”

  Morgan decided not to argue, Declan was right. All he could use now when stationary was his side arm or knife, for the longer range shots Morgan would need his rifle ready. The pair moved to the end of the platform and walked down to the tracks, Morgan had to dispose of three zombies that were too near for comfort, and then they began their trek along the rail system.

  The train tracks were void of any life at all there was even a total lack of zombies. With Declan injured they made astonishing progress within twenty minutes they had passed through Norwood Junction, and they were both secretly delighted that this large station had been empty, and they didn’t want to keep firing their weapons, which always drew the unwanted attentions of the dead. A little further on they stopped at a crossroad junction to catch their breath, to the right lay a training centre for railway track staff. In the car park a four wheel drive car sat unattended. As the training centre, sat on level ground with the tracks, and all that separated the car park with the track was a chain link fence the pair decided that Morgan should check the car out. If they could find the keys for the ignition, they could use the car to drive through the fence, and if the tracks were clear the vehicle should be able to handle the terrain of the tracks and quarried stone to travel the rest of the distance to London Bridge.

  Morgan told Declan to wait for him, and then climbed over the fence, he warily approached the car, and on nearing it he noticed the streak of blood leading away from it. Following the blood streak, it ended at the front door of the training centre, Morgan tried the door handle which just rattled in protest it had been locked from the inside. He turned to go back to the car and could hear the tell tale signs of a zombie banging against the interior of the door; he had attracted its attention by rattling the door handle.

  Looking in the interior of the car he could see an array of blood soaked tissues on the passenger seat, whoever had driven this card here must of been bitten before they escaped, they had then probably gone into the centre waiting for things to blow over. On their quick escape from the car they had left their car keys behind, Morgan couldn’t believe his luck, and at the same time was relieved that he didn’t have to break into the building to search the car’s owner for them. The car started first time, and it eased through the chain link fence with no effort whatsoever, he pulled to a stop next to Declan and said to
him

  “A taxi for Declan Coleman”

  His friend smiled, but something wasn’t right, in the short time Declan had begun to look lethargic, and void of any energy, Morgan watched with a worried look on his face as Declan climbed into the passenger’s side.

  “What is it Dec? You look terrible” Morgan commented.

  Declan rolled up the right hand sleeve of his jacket, and showed his friend a discoloured bite mark, it had wept, and the outside looked like it had gone septic.

  “Sorry Jay, it happened back in the alley” Declan informed him

  Morgan shook his head, he couldn’t believe what he looked at now, Declan had been bitten, and it wouldn’t be long before he turned.

  “Why didn’t you tell me back there?” Morgan asked him.

  “You needed my help, and you might still need it yet”

  “I could have done something”

  “No you couldn’t of Jay”

  “Mate I don’t know what to say”

  “Then don’t, drive to London Bridge and I can help you get into that bunker”

  “What about you?”

  “Once you are in, I’m going out in style” Declan laughed as he finished the conversation.

  Morgan started the ignition, the drive if not blocked would take around twenty minutes, if the tracks were clear, with an infected passenger sitting next to him Morgan hoped they were unobstructed.

  The group in Chatsworth Plaza still watched as the two soldiers attempted to conclude their journey in the car.

  “What happens if they make it back here?” Penny asked Kathy