Z: UK (A Zombie Novel)

by David Whaley

  “Let me know when we’re down,” said Marcus closing his eyes and gripping the seat tighter, his knuckles white.

  “You just pray there are no vehicles on the runway,” Devlin joked whilst knowing this was a real possibility.

  Devlin cleared the trees and, without Marcus seeing or hearing, he let out a quiet sigh of relief whilst aware his job wasn’t quite finished.

  The descent continued the final few hundred feet and just as Devlin thought he had won the battle, the wind gave a last attempt at pushing them off course.

  A gust of wind hit the Cessna just as they were above the ground forcing them off the runway. Their new bearing was the emergency airfield vehicle abandoned at the edge of the runway.

  Devlin tried to manoeuvre the aircraft that was still travelling at speed and applied the breaks, hard. Too late. The aircraft hit the vehicle, breaking off the front wheel, and caused the Cessna to grate it’s underside against the granite floor coming to an eventual stop on a grassy verge nearby.

  “That was close,” said Marcus opening his eyes. “I didn’t think we were going to make it back there.”

  “Close? Close!” said Devlin ripping off his headset and throwing it at Marcus. “I’m stuck here. I can’t fly this now. So much for a fresh start. Fuck!”

  They both got out and assessed the damage caused, only confirming the inevitable without doubt. The aircraft had been permanently grounded.

  “You can always come with me to London. It’s not really that far,” said Marcus.

  “I haven’t really got a choice now, do I?” said Devlin. “My flat’s in London anyway.”

  With that, they set off for the exit of the airfield, no other aircraft in sight, and no people. It was a long walk to the main gate out which they found was closed and locked.

  “Now what?” asked Marcus.

  “What d’you mean? You know how to climb, don’t you?”

  The duo climbed the gate, Devlin still armed with his bag of money and Marcus with his bag of personal belongings, and walked half a mile to the main road.

  Beyond the gates it was deserted. There were cars abandoned everywhere, some damage free but pointing in every which way but forward with others wrapped around lampposts and trees not exactly situated at the edge of the road.

  Devlin and Marcus set about searching the undamaged vehicles for keys to find this was a far easier task than expected. They all contained keys. It was because of this that they were able to have a variety of cars to choose from; their own massive showroom.

  They settled for a new Range Rover Sport in black that indicated to having less than half a tank of diesel when the ignition was switched on, LBC tuned into the radio blaring out.

  “That’s enough of that,” said Devlin. “How about some music?”

  Devlin turned the dials trying to find any station with music but all were silent aside from the vacant hiss that sounded on the selections.

  “Well, I’m not listening to LBC. Silence it is.”

  In the front passenger seat, Marcus had another look around the deserted road. Where has everyone gone?

  He took out his mobile phone and dialled Natalie’s number. It rang and rang until it automatically diverted to the voicemail. He decided against leaving a message.

  “Natalie lives in Norfolk, but given what’s happening with this virus and people attacking other people, I assume she’ll be at work in London.”

  “Why? What’s she do?”

  “She’s a police officer.”

  “Ha ha. You bonking a woman officer? Tell me, she ever bring her cuffs home?” said Devlin.

  “None of your business.”

  “Ha ha. She does then,” said Devlin laughing as he drove. “’Ere. She knows you were away, doesn’t she? She gonna have a problem we’ve flown back during quarantine?”

  “She won’t care as long as she still cares enough about me.”

  Darkness had fully descended upon them as they approached the boarder into the heart of London from the borough of Redbridge, but something troubled both of them. They hadn’t seen a single pedestrian or another moving car. How could they be so alone, a thought shared in common.

  A 24 hour Tescos came into view as they rounded a bend to their left hand side and they decided to pull into the car park for food and fuel as well as any signs of life.

  First was the petrol station, also vacant, and Devlin entered the attached shop for a staff member to allow him to fill up his tank with diesel. There was nobody present and as such he lent over the counter pressing the button that allowed the pump to be used. Marcus used his initiative and filled their stolen vehicle up.

  Devlin then drove the range rover to the main store where he successfully reverse bay parked. They stepped out onto the tarmac where they observed the many vehicles scattered around. All remained stationary without a single shopper in sight.

  They approached the supermarket, unable to see in through the windows due to the advertising stickers littered across them, and walked through the automatic sliding doors not able to feel the air conditioning situated above; either it wasn’t working or it wasn’t switched on.

  Marcus glanced in the direction of the checkouts seeing that none were manned nor with any waiting customers, but the majority of these points did have shopping on their conveyor belts. Packets and tins of food as well as plastic bags were strewn about the aisles, all of which seemed to cause Devlin to get excited.

  “Ever seen Supermarket Sweep? Let’s get ourselves some food. I’ll run and get our bags,” said Devlin running back to their car before giving Marcus a chance to respond, though, he was in agreement.

  Devlin arrived back soon after handing Marcus his black holdall and they set off starting on opposite sides of the store where planning to meet in the middle; Marcus starting with the fruit and vegetables, not so fresh anymore, and Devlin starting with the alcohol.

  Marcus selected a variety of fruit such as apples, bananas and oranges having to sort through them not much at all unlike the vegetables. Cucumbers had started to wrinkle and the cabbage leaves had wilted whilst the broccoli tops had turned that horrible brown colour, and he quickly bypassed the remainder of the aisle.

  The next aisle was toiletries and thinking that he required almost none of the products here, he selected only a few cans of deodorants before moving on.

  Marcus then proceeded to walk down the aisle of tinned foods interrupted after a short browse by a bang coming from behind him, a sound of something metallic colliding with the floor. He span and eyed the butchers’ counter that was set against the back wall of the supermarket with only enough room for a couple of people to work behind. Beyond the counter was another room with no door that Marcus was unable to see into as the employee would have to turn right, into it.

  “Anybody there?” Marcus called out. The only reply was a deep groan and then the sound of irregular footsteps.

  “Hello?” he called again with the same response.

  “Devlin? Is that you?”

  This time, the source of the sounds made herself known by emerging from the doorway. A once attractive twenty-something year old staggered towards Marcus from behind the counter, parts of flesh torn from her body and rotting away in others. Her clothes the telltale sign of an employee of the business but now patterned in red stains that also covered what was left of her face. Her tongue hung loosely from her mouth unable to be held in by a missing bottom jaw and her hair was severely balding as skin flaked from her body.

  The smell was unbearable; a burning, decomposing and rotten stench that could not be described similar to a rubbish dump.

  She walked in a peculiar way being that she would step forward with her left foot and then drag her right foot to join it.

  The Tescos employee had reached the entrance to the narrow aisle before Marcus started moving back, initially unable to call for help.

  Suddenly, he heard another groan but it wasn’t coming from her. It was coming from behind him, again. />
  At the other end of the aisle there was another Tescos employee, male this time, decomposing and injured and walking in a similar fashion to his female counterpart but with both parts of his jaw intact.

  They both continued to walk towards Marcus, raising their arms clawing into the air as if trying to take hold of him despite the fact he was well out of arms reach, at least for the time being.

  “Devlin! Help!” Marcus finally managed to muster.

  “I’m a little busy right now,” Devlin shouted back from some distance within the store. “Flu? My arse it is.”

  Marcus grabbed the first item his hands came to fondle, which happened to be a can of chicken soup, and threw it at the female employee hitting her in the stomach. This only caused her to step back slightly but then continue towards him. In the distance he could hear the sound of glass breaking presuming Devlin had had the same idea.

  He reached out for the second time and grabbed a can of ravioli throwing it at her, this time hitting her arm.

  Another attempt and he grabbed a can of baked beans that hit her in the head sending her crashing to the floor.

  Meanwhile, the male zombie was still approaching as the female started to get back onto her feet and Marcus seized the opportunity, running past his downed victim.

  “Aim for their heads,” Marcus shouted across the supermarket.

  “Thanks, I figured that one out for myself,” Devlin shouted back.

  Marcus ran towards the sound of Devlin’s voice to find he was still in the alcohol aisle, a scene of carnage.

  There were broken bottles of Vodka, Brandy, Whisky and Wine on the floor, the different shades and colours of liquid coalescing into a single puddle in the centre. Surrounding the puddle at three points were three bodies similar to the ones Marcus had encountered; another female Tescos employee and two customers, he presumed as they weren’t wearing uniform.

  This Tesco employee was lying on the floor with half the bottle of Vodka sticking out of her forehead, one of the customers had their head removed by unknown means that was resting far from its body and the other male customer had his face caved in with a crater where his rotted features once sat.

  The smell was even more intense here with three decomposing bodies as opposed to Marcus’ two.

  “What on earth happened here?” said Marcus.

  “I had fun is what,” Devlin said with a smile that unnerved Marcus. He was glad, however, that Devlin was on his side.

  Devlin and Marcus ran outside to their car noticing the two undead that Marcus had encountered still walking towards them.

  However, Marcus’ heart sank and Devlin’s eyes lit up at the sight that greeted them; God knows where they all came from.

  Walking between the cars and crawling over car bonnets were no less than two hundred zombies, fat and thin, young and old, big and small, many with limbs missing.

  “Now the real fun starts,” said Devlin, not giving Marcus a chance to answer as he rushed into the drivers’ seat, half pulling out of the Disabled bay near the entrance to the supermarket in order to allow Marcus easy access to the passenger seat.

  With Marcus safely fastening his seatbelt, and Devlin not, he revved the engine.

  “I’m going for a strike,” he said as he accelerated towards a herd of zombies in their path.

  Chapter 9

  “Attention! Lakeford Police station, custody, under attack, urgent assistance required” The automated message played out over the radio in response to someone hitting the panic strip in custody.

  “Attention! Lakeford Police station, front office, under attack, urgent assistance required” Immediately followed.

  “Attention! Lakeford Police station, interview rooms, under attack, urgent assistance required.”

  Natalie had heard these alarms many times but they usually turned out to be false alarms due to someone accidentally leaning on it. This one though, she believed to be the real thing.

  Natalie hit the big red button once again to turn on her blue lights and she pressed the centre of her steering wheel to activate the siren, but with her being the other side of the borough it took some time for her to get there, even with the exemption tools at her disposal.

  There was no response over the radio when the operators asked for confirmation that the alarm was false or for the person who had pressed it to elaborate as to why they had done so.

  “Alpha Oscar from 2-1. I’m on route but still some way off,” said Natalie. “I’ll give you an update as soon as I can.”

  “Received, 2-1.”

  Natalie whizzed by many more of the undead, apparently unphased by the volume of her sirens as she made good progress with no other moving vehicles on the roads; there were plenty abandoned vehicles, however.

  She expertly manoeuvred her police vehicle around the corners, accounting for over steer, and accelerated on the straights to its full potential easily able to make the top speed of 122MPH.

  Eventually, she arrived at the police station to find the rear gates stuck wide open and continued to drive through.

  The yard was desolate, not the usual bustle of officers and staff smoking in the designated areas or with prisoners being marched to and from the police vans. Nor was the borough commander patrolling the yard for vehicles parked without authority or CID going to their cars to leave and conduct a search of a prisoners house.

  One thing, moreso, did draw Natalie’s attention. This was the sight of PS Shire crawling towards her, muscle tissue missing from her neck and shoulder, her expression that of unmistakable pain.

  Natalie ran over to assess the full extent of the damage, having parked her vehicle askew in the across two bays, only to be interrupted and prevented from performing first aid by the victim herself, her line manager.

  “Don’t…bother…Nat. It’s… she… sit me up,” said PS Shire struggling to do so.

  “What happened?” asked Natalie, propping her Sergeant up against the BMW pursuit car.

  “She… just started attacking everyone. But she… died.”

  “Who did Sarge, who?”

  “V… Vicki. We saw it with your prisoner. With these odd calls coming in, and… now we’ve seen it with her. Nat, I’m telling you. The dead are undead. They… they are Zombies,” said PS Shire whilst crying.

  Natalie remembered PS Shire as having always been a strong minded police officer with a great capacity to face all sorts of challenges, always thinking logically and fairly whilst also having the ability of being a person’s friend, a skill that was hard to find between police sergeants and those of lower rank. This is why Natalie, although appreciating the pain she was in, was shocked by her tears.

  “Vicki? Oh no. Shit,” said Natalie fighting back her own tears.

  “And everyone… else…is.”

  PS Shire died at that moment letting out a final exhale in a second that Natalie would never forget.

  She laid her Sergeant back onto the ground and covered her with a hi viz jacket that she found on the floor nearby before running towards the main doors of the police station. Natalie then swiped her warrant card, releasing the magnet that allowed the doors to be pulled open into the foyer.

  The foyer was small with only a lift in the room, stairs led down to the basement where the changing rooms were and two separate corridors led into an array of offices belonging to various police units.

  Natalie decided to start with custody, located via a coded door next to the doors she had just entered. She pressed five digits in a specific sequence and the door clicked.

  Inside, she noted the vacant chairs where the two custody officers would normally sit, on a raised platform behind the custody desk that helped to insisting their authority on those arrested.

  On her walk around custody she found all but one cell was vacant, the cell belonging to Harry and, remembering her previous mistake, she lowered the wicket so the Perspex plastic was covering the rectangular hole allowing her to see through but nothing to come out.

 
; Harry, or the undead version of him, was stood facing the wall but quickly turned his head to face her as she coughed in response to the smell that was still able to emit through the Perspex. At least Harry was still secure, she thought.

  Having seen enough, Natalie raised the wicket once again into the ‘safe’ position and left the custody area through the same coded door.

  Natalie walked up to one of the two corridors that opposed each other on either side of the foyer deciding to take the left corridor towards the PC’s writing room. However, she found her route was blocked by five zombies.

  She turned around facing the other corridor and could see through the long vertical window of the fire door that this route would also prove impossible due to the larger group of the undead that loitered.

  Natalie convinced herself that there was nothing left to do but leave and she ran back into the back yard where she initially tried to locate the same car she had been using all day. However, she realised that her colleagues’ fate had been their death and therefore no longer had any use for the BMW police vehicle. Might as well travel in style, she thought, not to mention faster.

  As she ran towards the pursuit car, PS Shire’s body, still under the hi viz jacket, started to move and judging that she still had time, she ran past her undead corpse in front of the BMW and climbed in, thankful that the keys were still in the ignition.

  Natalie fired the engine into life and put the automatic gearbox into drive just in time to see PS Shires face, not her usual self, peer above the bonnet before she accelerated away running her down and dragging her out of the open gates. She had no option but to shake her free by turning the steering wheel hard in both directions to see her roll off in the distance of the rear view mirror. The unnerving thing was that PS Shire then stood up as Natalie continued along the road gathering speed.

  She fumbled around in her pocket, proved difficult with the seatbelt she had hastily fastened on her way out, intending to phone Marcus to appraise him of the situation in the UK. It wasn’t there. I must have lost it at Daniel’s, she thought.

  “Aaaarrgh!” a deafening scream transmitted over the radio.