by David Whaley
One thought entered Marcus’ mind as his adrenaline started building. I’m coming for you Natalie.
Chapter 7
Natalie was well into the twenty third hour of her extended tour of duty having been instructed to stay on due to staff shortage and panic ensuing as more and more people were being attacked by, what they had described as, flesh eating cannibals.
Similarly to the London riots, a number of shops had been broken into and their products stolen causing the borough commander to believe that the public were going to start mass looting, a strange comment as it seemed that had already started to occur.
As a precautionary measure, the commissioner himself had ordered out his ‘commissioners reserve,’ a tactical unit on standby 365 days a year to deal with serious public order situations, amongst other things, but they too were short staffed with only one carrier of the specialist officers sent to each of the London boroughs with an average of being one officer short on each.
The armed response vehicles were called out, also short on numbers resulting in few cars being deployed. They were driving backwards and forwards across London with the influx of calls coming in trying their best to deal with as many as possible whilst ensuring their timely arrival made easier with the lack of traffic on the streets.
Officers that were on rest day were given a wake up call by a combination of officers from the duties office, response supervisors and even some of the Police Community Support Officers as each borough tried to build up its strength in numbers. Mostly, there was no answer in the attempts to contact them with some that refused in order to spend time with their families during the crisis.
“Vick. Did you see the broadcast from the PM on the canteen T.V? Can you believe he is putting all of this down to the flu? Of all things,” said Natalie.
“Not really, but what else could it be? There are so many different strains, and they are constantly mutating.”
Natalie had forgotten during her outburst that she was not ‘in’ on the CBRN operation that she had carried out and therefore not privileged to the information that was projected onto the screen from the DVD. She battled with herself briefly as to whether or not she should just tell her best friend deciding against it as not to panic her. Let her believe what she wants if that keeps her happy and calm.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Natalie replied, accompanied by a poor attempt of a reassuring smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine but glad I’ve been posted with you for now. Let’s go out and do some work. In another three hours it’ll be our turn to get some sleep back at the nick for a little while before we get sent out again.”
PS Shire, also on her twenty third hour, had given individual times to groups of officers to get some rest but had regrettably advised them that their rest periods would only be for two hours at a time and in between they would have to be out for five hours.
Natalie recalled Harry’s behaviour, the fact that he was dead and that the public were referring to the virus as the ‘Zombie Virus.’ Perhaps they are not as mad as people had first thought. She looked over at Vicki in her passenger seat to see that she was staring out the window intently and decided that her friend was in a state of shock and therefore in denial as to what had happened. Despite seeing the decaying, standing, corpse she can’t admit what it was that she saw, thought Natalie.
Two individuals dressed in expensive suits were summoned to the police station to observe Harry’s behaviour but it was unknown as to what department they were from or if they were police officers, of rank or not. Natalie assumed the Inspector, whom she briefed about the situation in custody that relieved the blame somewhat in regards to her losing a dead body, had called them and did so without telling anyone.
“This is going to be a weird way of doing things from now on,” said Natalie as they drove out of the yard.
“Yep,” replied Vicki.
A vehicle drove in the opposite direction, the driver slightly panicked, and slowed down upon seeing the police vehicle nonetheless. On his radio he had LBC playing, the presenter being Nick Ferrari, and Natalie overheard only a snippet of information:
“…as such it seems as though the riots have returned to the streets of London and many other parts of the UK for that matter. All ports have been shut down, land, sea and air, in an effort to…”
“Very weird,” she repeated under her breath.
They had been instructed that due to lack of staff and the mass of calls coming in by the senior management team, that when dealing with a person that’s injured to call LAS and tell the injured person to stay where they were whilst they continue taking calls. The only exception, however, is that when the injuries are deemed so serious that their life could be or is threatened then the police officers can administer first aid pending the arrival of an Ambulance.
“A call now on an immediate response to Cazenove Road. Reports of a fight at location outside the community centre between two males. No weapons seen,” said a voice in a crackle over the radio.
“2-1” called Vicki over the radio accepting the call.
“Received, 2-1. The line has now been cleared, no further updates at this time.”
Natalie put on her blue lights coupled with the noise of the sirens; yet, she had a momentary lapse in concentration by remembering that all forms of international travel into the UK had been shut down, according to the recent news report, and that Marcus was stranded abroad.
She shook this off knowing she had to focus on the road and continued driving at speed to their destination. She soon parked outside the community centre where sat a teenager that Natalie recognised; he was clutching his arm.
“Joe Kempoko. Have you been fighting today?” said Natalie to the person that she had arrested the most.
“No… Well, yes. But only because he attacked me first. I did punch him, and clearly broke his jaw but he carried on. I then punched him again in the top of his head, which was very soft, and he just sorta limped off. He scratched me first though, officer. He kept trying to bite me,” replied Joe.
“Where’s the injury? Where your hand is?” asked Vicki. “Let us see it.”
Joe removed his right hand from his left forearm revealing three vertical scratches all of different lengths. The middle scratch was the longest and deepest that, in Natalie’s assessment, would require stitches.
“It’s really hurting. It stings,” screamed Joe as a yellow coloured ooze started to seep out of his wounds.
“Okay, relax. We’re going to request an ambulance for you,” said Vicki.
Natalie then took the details for the crime report and obtained a description of the suspect; a madman with grey blotchy skin wearing dirty clothing.
The officers advised Joe to remain where he was until the ambulance arrived and they commenced an area search for the suspect.
As they were no longer travelling on blue lights and were purposefully observing the pedestrians they noticed two things. They were the only vehicle driving along the road and all of the pedestrians matched the description provided by Joe; all limping towards them, clawing into the air every so often with a similar moan to the one Harry had made in custody. All gave a cold empty stare as they approached the police car and Natalie sped away from the approximate twenty that were infected.
In a strange contrast, as she got onto the high road, there were people walking normally and going about their daily business although there wasn’t as many and there were cars driving along but, again, not as many.
“2-1, receiving,” called PS Shire over the radio.
“Go ahead,” replied Vicki.
“Vick, I need to put you out in a car by yourself for a while. We are sinking here. Can you get 666 to come up to the supervisors’ office when she drops you off?”
As they were already heading that way they arrived five minutes later where Vicki booked out her own police vehicle and Natalie ascended the stairs to the supervisors’ for another tasking.
“Sa
rge, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” replied PS Shire. “We are unable to get in contact with Daniel the probationer. He reported sick a few hours before this very long shift. We’re trying to account for as many officers as possible. Can you go to his address and do a welfare check to make sure he is okay.”
PS Shire then wrote down the address handing it to Natalie. She noticed that it wasn’t too far as it was on a neighbouring borough and she left the police station in search of the address.
She drove in minimal traffic that thinned the closer she got to Redbridge borough and just as she left Lakeford, another call came in.
“Another violence related call now in on an immediate response. Domestic. Son is trying to attack his mother. Suspects name is Joe Kempoko.”
“Alpha Oscar. He does have a history of being violent and we attended a call to him earlier having being attacked by… One of these ‘madmen’. He has an injury. Did LAS attend after we requested them?” said Natalie.
“They took some time but did attend. They noticed a substantial amount of blood where you said he would be and they conducted their own area search resulting in no trace. Are you in a position to return to his home address?” asked the controller.
“Negative. I’m currently tasked; it was just to make you aware of the possible link between the two calls.”
“Show 2-3 to that. I was with 2-1 earlier,” said Vicki via the radio accepting the call.
“Show 2-2 backing them up. Also single crewed,” said an unfamiliar male voice.
We can’t be down to three officers, Natalie thought, surely. Natalie continued further off borough and arrived at Daniel’s block of flats where she parked at the side of the road adjacent to the communal door.
She noticed whilst on route that the streets were empty and littered with overturned wheelie bins and a lot of rubbish. They must have been hit harder, she thought.
From here, Natalie could see a splattering of blood on the door and she approached it with caution, drawing her asp as she did so.
She slowly opened the unlocked door and peered into the communal stairwell. There was nobody present despite the one thing indicating someone should be. Scattered across the floor and up the stairs to the first floor were lengths of intestine each lying in a pool of blood but nobody laid there dead.
This caused Natalie to extend her asp and raise it over her shoulder whilst her free hand fumbled over the radio as she tried to change to the local channel.
“Juliet India, receiving 666 Alpha Oscar,” she stammered, becoming increasingly concerned of her surroundings. No response.
“Juliet India, receiving.” No response.
“Anybody receiving this channel?”
This time there was a response. After a short crackle, a muffled and ungodly moan could be heard over the transmission where, she presumed, the person that had pressed the PTT button was unable to relay a message. The transmission ended after three seconds.
“Natalie changed back to the Lakeford channel just in time to hear the end of a transmission from Vicki.
“… Bitten. I’m going to go back to the station and get a lift to St Thomas’ hospital from there.”
Natalie, worried but reassuring herself that her friend would only need a tetanus, decided that she couldn’t do much else but go it alone.
She observed the rusted plaque on the wall by the stairs, above the intestines, indicating that Daniel lived on the second floor and started climbing the stairs, asp still drawn, extended and ready.
On the second floor, Natalie examined the bloodied handprint that was wrapped around the edge of the open wooden door, as if someone had struggled to get out. This door was the entrance to Daniel’s flat.
Natalie gently pushed the door open, creaking as it swung, revealing a hallway with patches of blood interrupting the paintwork.
“Daniel, are you there?” she called as she entered cautiously.
The only response was the sound of irregular footsteps and a groan that seemed to come from the living room.
She stood in the doorway of this room that would ordinarily contain families sat around enjoying the latest soap opera that TV had to offer and, on rare occasions, they would play board games. However, the room had come to depict something from a horror show.
It smelt overwhelmingly of rotting flesh and more traces of intestine littered the floor, partially chewed, with a blood trail of drips leading to the centre where someone stood with their back turned, the curtains drawn darkening the room.
“Sir, can you hear me?” Natalie asked. “Daniel? Is that you?”
There was no response.
Natalie approached him from behind, the smell getting worse as she neared, and called again, “Daniel? Hello?”
This person responded by twitching it’s head slightly to the left as if to acknowledge someone was behind him but somehow waiting for something.
“Are you alright?”
Natalie could then see the identity of the person, or what was left of him, as he span around and forced himself forward the last foot towards Natalie causing her to fall onto her back. The only communication made was a deafening scream of torture.
Daniel stood towered above her with blood dripping from his chin, flakes of skin had fallen from his face and continued to do so as he began to descend on Natalie who was wondering how he could even see with a single eye that had completely turned white; the other had had melted away leaving only maggots to occupy, and fall from, its socket. Daniel’s nose had already rotted away as had most of his mouth which was open and hungry and aimed for Natalie’s stomach.
Natalie instinctively rolled out of the way and rose quickly to her feet, her years of officer safety training paying off, regaining control of her asp.
Daniel, newly employed by the devil, rose slowly and let out another scream limping into the light that was entering the room from the hallway.
Natalie could see that his clothes were dirty and bloodied but his intestines were still very much intact. They must belong to one of his victims, Natalie thought recalling the stairwell and looking around the room.
“Get back!” Natalie shouted. “Get back!”
There was no answer, just a groan. Lucky they don’t move very fast, she thought.
Daniel continued to limp towards her as she readied her weapon again, backing her into the hallway.
“Get back!” she shouted knowing full well that the person approaching her was no longer Daniel.
Daniel’s skin continued to flake and the maggots continued to fall from his eye socket and, more recently, from his nose socket.
The fact suddenly hit Natalie. Zombies are real. The dead are now undead.
Natalie struck out at Daniel’s undead self, hitting him in the arm with her asp, causing his arm to break, yet, he himself did not flinch. Natalie drew her asp back, lowering it to her waist before thrusting it forward. Her hand was still holding onto the handle but was now directly in front of Daniel’s abdomen, the asp having pierced him and protruded out the other side.
After a brief gasp, Natalie pulled out the asp leaving a small hole revealing more maggots, though not pouring out.
Daniel’s reanimation continued towards Natalie, her, in turn, backing away from the front door up the hallway with Daniel emerging from the living room. Her mistake, she realised, was allowing herself to become trapped in the second floor flat.
Natalie had then had enough. You are either a survivor or food.
She readied her asp once more, fear subsided, but this time in a way that made her look like she was preparing to score a homerun as opposed to defending herself against an impending zombie attack.
Daniel continued forward and Natalie held her position, the asp held firm with both hands, and she swung hard at Daniel’s hideous head knocking it clean off.
Daniel was now dead and Natalie realised she had found their weakness. The reason the ‘madman’ wandered off after Joe Kempoko punched him in the head. The reas
on Daniel’s body fell to the floor next to his crushed head. The only way to kill a zombie; severe head trauma.
Chapter 8
They were hit by turbulence more times then Marcus cared to remember but Devlin controlled the aircraft well as he circled around the small airfield below trying to find the best position to come in to land.
“Stapleford Tower, Echo-Xray-Charlie-Four-Golf reporting the visibility with Juliet, requesting a straight in approach,” transmitted Devlin over his headset microphone contacting ground for permission to land. No response.
“Is that normal? It’s getting dark,” asked Marcus considering that they must be breaking some law with the quarantine in place. He was surprised that they weren’t shot out of the sky.
“Shut up a minute,” said Devlin. “Stapleford Tower, come in, Echo-Xray-Charlie-Four-Golf.” No response.
Devlin positioned the aircraft to commence landing procedure.
“What’re you doing? You might as well be flying blind,” said Marcus.
“What do you expect? All the airports have been shut down. Nobody was ever going to be here. Look, with no other air traffic this won’t be a problem,” comforted Devlin.
Devlin continued to transmit his current speed and altitude whilst commenting on visibility and various other factors so that the onboard ‘black box’ could document his efforts. There was no response from the tower throughout.
“High winds are pushing the aircraft around, knocking my accuracy at this time.”
He’s not wrong there, Marcus thought gripping the edge of his seat as the Cessna took a battering. Worst… turbulence… ever.
Devlin controlled the aircraft expertly, accounting for wind sheer, though the controls became unresponsive at times.
He aimed for the tree line at the foot of the runway that were blowing violently, recovering from the Cessna eager to stall, ensuring he remained on target and not in the adjacent field.
The hardest part for Devlin was keeping the nose down as the head wind had other ideas for them by forcing the nose up.