Z: UK (A Zombie Novel)

by David Whaley

  “The way it is written it certainly appears so. It contains enzymes, which break down bonds of molecules. It also contains dimethyl, octadienal and trichloroethylene.”

  “Now you’re just reading out loud. I haven’t the faintest idea what any of those are except I think enzymes are in our saliva,” said John.

  “You are correct on both counts. I am reading out loud and enzymes help us to eat. However, you may find this interesting. Underneath this formula, it makes specific reference to a link between trichloroethylene and the systemic lupus erythematosus disease.”

  “And what’s that?” asked Leon.

  “In short, the lupus disease is an autoimmune one which attacks healthy living tissue and generally affects the skin. It also makes the body hyperactive. It causes poor circulation around the body, particularly in the fingers and toes, and the victim gets a high fever. Their blood is also susceptible to clotting.”

  “Essentially the signs of a zombie then?” said Natalie.

  “By the sounds of it I would say so, yes. I don’t recognise anything else… SHIT!”

  This sudden outburst from Heather got Leon and Natalie to stand up straight with their hands hovering over the thigh strapped weapons. As it turned out it was lucky that Leon had brought more ammo up to the briefing room.

  “You had better come with me,” said Heather.

  Heather led the way and they ran two flights to the ground floor into the PCs writing room.

  James Bullen, Heathers patient, was now nowhere to be seen and certainly wasn’t laying where he had been last time they saw him.

  Instead, standing in the centre of the room was something they had never seen before, although unmistakably a member of the undead, that towered over them with one particular identifying feature to his left bicep.

  “Isn’t that the injury James had?” said Devlin pointing up.

  Chapter 24

  “It’s not… is it?” said Natalie.

  “I’m afraid so,” replied Heather. “I told you the cure wasn’t ready.”

  James Bullen stood at a towering seven and a half foot. His eyes sunken into his head, his jaw clenched with teeth missing due to the sudden growth spurt. James had chapped skin that was close to the point of splitting; his arms, legs and torso had ripped through his clothes and highly muscular as if he had been body building for years. The existing wound had enlarged due to the skin expansion and the gauze hung off by a single piece of tape no longer big enough to conceal the wound. Although his skin was chapped, it had thickened to form a protective shell and had changed colour, darkening and greying, some patches black. This newly encountered form of animation expelled a stench worse than its smaller versions combined with that of a rubbish dump on a hot summer’s day. No more was the person stood before them James Bullen.

  “How the hell did this happen?” asked Leon.

  “I told you the cure contains Monosodium Glutamate. When he got infected, there must have been a transfer in Trichlororoethylene and when the cure was added there would have been a chemical reaction that accelerated the rate of mutation causing… this.”

  “I thought he was stable.”

  “He was but obviously not anymore.”

  “So now we have to kill a super Zombie?” said Devlin pointing out the obvious.

  “Yes, but we don’t know what this one is capable of,” said Heather.

  The ‘super’ Zombie had set its sights on the mass of officers, who responded to its roar and smell of exhaled gas by each shooting rounds into its head. It wasn’t working as bullets had to their previous adversaries.

  Where the slugs struck, left only a slight dent of an impression, like a pea shooter being shot at a sheet of leather before bouncing onto the ground raining in a hail of bullets.

  “It’s not working,” shouted Leon. “There’s no room in here. Lead him to the yard. Keep him engaged!”

  Whilst still firing, all members of the living started walking backwards having to go single file through the only doorway leading out of the PC’s writing room.

  The reanimated version of James was slow but ensured it’s targets remained in sight and walked through the door, it’s head and arms taking out part of the wall as it did so.

  “Stay away from the perimeter walls. We can not allow the police station to become breached!” said Leon. “Heather, you’re unarmed. Find somewhere to hide.”

  Heather ran off down a side corridor as they reached the foyer, the Zombie temporarily turning his attention to her until Leon threw his spent Glock at its head.

  The sensor released the glass doors leading to the yard enabling the humans continued passage. The Zombie however, crashed through the them.

  Natalie barely considered the draft that would be squalling throughout the building before turning her focus on the MP5 still strapped to her chest and replenishing it with ammunition. This was only due to her also having used the cartridges in the Glock; it was the same for the Hertfordshire officers having to switch to their primary, more powerful firearms.

  She discovered, which previously went unnoticed, that her county colleagues had a different arsenal in their possession. Where her own consortium elected to remain with the standard issue weaponry, though they had little choice otherwise, they had Shotguns and Machineguns each of a different appearance.

  Despite the increase in firepower, the effect was much the same, perhaps leaving slightly deeper indentations.

  The Zombie lowered its head to the average height of a living person and roared, the ventilation of the great outdoors doing very little to quell the smell that emanated.

  With its right hand, palm open, it swung to the left striking one of the unnamed Hertfordshire officers launching him into the exterior wall of the custody suite. He was rendered either unconscious, or dead. This was made possible because the group had backed to the far wall of the yard.

  “Away from the perimeter,” shouted Leon, it evident that he was in charge of the battle. “Confuse him, surround him!”

  They did, which seemed to work as the Zombie span around looking at each person in turn. It roared again which was echoed by moans coming from elsewhere.

  Leon noticed a large amount of regular animations had approached the vehicle gate, clawing into the police station between the bars. Thankfully, the gate was doing its job and keeping them out having been attracted by their superior.

  “Keep it engaged!”

  Leon ran to a corner of the yard furthest from his colleagues after shouting his last instruction and searched for a vehicle which still had the keys in the ignition.

  Many of the cars were locked, some unlocked without keys and only three were unlocked with keys. He selected the heaviest being a Nissan Duke and started the engine before pulling it around so it was inline with the Zombie and enough distance to ensure he had a bit of a runway.

  Leon revved to a high RPM suddenly releasing the handbrake where he began to charge at the Zombie and Devlin standing in front of it, his back to the Nissan.

  Leon sounded the horn and Devlin, recognising the sound to indicate impending danger, jumped out of the way as the drivers’ door of the vehicle opened.

  At the last minute, Leon dived from the accelerating vehicle onto the bonnet of a police car. He watched as the Nissan completed the final few metres to reach its target.

  However, its target used its big hand to act as a kind of fly swat swatting the Nissan out of the way sending it spinning in the air. It came to land in a destructed heap upside down narrowly missing the X5.

  “Great move. Now what?” asked Devlin.

  “Shut up. I’m still thinking.”

  Leon knew his options were running thin and that the guns do not have unlimited ammunition. It was only a matter of time before they became helpless prey.

  He went through the situation in his mind. Bullets don’t work and apparently we can’t run it down. It is strong and we are weak against it. Come on, think. Bullets, cars, bats, axes, tasers…

/>   “Tasers,” Leon shouted. “Natalie, have you got a taser armoury here?”

  “Yes we do, second floor.”

  “Okay. Devlin, come with me. You too, Natalie. Everyone else, draw his attention.”

  The Hertfordshire officers continued to fire keeping the Zombie focused on them whilst Leon’s group, led by Natalie, ran through the massive hole in the glass door to the stairs.

  They climbed the two flights of stairs to the second floor and found the door to the taser room which, as always, was locked.

  Leon had found yet another door in which to try out his recently bought boots on. He kicked with the flat of his foot but the door wouldn’t budge and he tried again. Still, it wouldn’t budge. A third time and the door remained in place.

  “Where’s your enforcer?” asked Leon.

  “I’ll get it for you,” said Natalie and she ran two doors up to the operations office.

  Natalie returned a short while later with the big red tool hauled over her left shoulder.

  The enforcer was passed to Leon and he stood in the perfect stance pulling back, the flat face of it pointed towards the door.

  With an ear piecing bang, coupled with the splintering of the door and doorframe, it swung inwards following Leon’s first attempt with the enforcer, what some people called ‘the key.’

  “We’re in.” said Leon. “I’ll take four, you guys each take three.”

  This instruction was followed so that, between them, they carried a total of ten tasers leaving the room empty.

  It was only specially trained officers that would routinely carry a taser and only a very few would carry it at any one time on the response team of twenty to thirty officers.

  They ran back to the yard where bullets continued to be furiously fired at the enemy.

  Devlin, Leon and Natalie threw a taser at each of the Hertfordshire officers, the recipients of the throws being successful in catching them.

  Every single person aimed their taser resulting in ten red dots from the targeting laser being projected onto the Zombie.

  “Ready? Fire!” commanded Leon.

  All ten tasers were fired, the barbs clinging to the leathery skin. None missed.

  “Fire in a three second bursts.”

  The Zombie had already started to receive fifty thousand volts from each of the tasers and fell to its knees first, then its face.

  After three seconds everyone released the trigger but were ready to reapply if necessary.

  It appeared that the taser only stunned it as it started struggled to get back up.

  “If it stands shock it again,” said Leon placing his own taser on the ground and running back into the building.

  The Zombie managed to get back up onto its knees continuing to try its hardest to get back to its feet. Just as it succeeded, Leon re-emerged with the enforcer on his shoulder.

  “Shock again!” he yelled, running across the yard to his original standing place.

  They complied and the Zombie again fell to its knees but not its face.

  Leon placed the enforcer down and applied an added fifty thousand volts which violently encouraged it to hit the floor hard.

  “Stop,” said Leon gripping the enforcer firmly, lifting it above his head.

  He ran over to the Zombies face avoiding its arms and planted the enforcer into the side of its temple causing the skull to fracture and the skin to break revealing a vulnerable opening, a passage to the brain.

  Leon indicated for one of the county officers to pass him his Shotgun, which was done.

  He buried the barrel of the Shotgun into its opening and pulled the trigger.

  This ripped apart half of its head and to ensure its death, each person fired a single round into the remaining brain matter.

  It was well and truly dead and the Zombie onlookers that had approached the vehicle gates sauntered off into the night.

  Chapter 25

  Everyone stood, admiring the feat in which they had accomplished thanks to the leadership, and imagination, of Leon. For the first time since the apocalypse began, each were genuinely happy and they cheered in celebration. However, they didn’t let the feeling overwhelm them completely.

  “Hopefully we don’t encounter too many of those things,” said Devlin.

  “I doubt it. I can only assume, from what you guys have told us, that the end result of the virus depends on how it was introduced in the first place,” said John.

  “Apparently so,” Heather said reappearing having sensed the danger was over. “At first, the host was exposed to the virus and would be infected via their respiratory system, breathing it in. In the more recent cases, the victim would be infected by way of direct contact with one of the animation, a bite mark, scratch or blood transfer etc… However with this subject here, he was indeed infected by the latter method but the intervention and chemical reaction caused by the untested cure resulted in the animation you ended up fighting. I would conclude that this would have been the same or a very similar transformation, possibly to a stronger version, if everyone had been infected by direct introduction, i.e. drinking the viral mixture as per that whiteboard.”

  “We don’t know if there is any more of the virus out there ready to be introduced,” said Devlin.

  “I would say there is a good chance there is. The only way to destroy it safely would be by the incineration method.”

  “We don’t even know where to start,” said Leon. “It’s like a god damn needle in a hay stack.”

  “Or…,” said Natalie. “Or we could look for one item instead of many.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “According to the DVD I watched, you know the one that was sent to the PM? According to that, it said there was an antidote.”

  “Okay, but we searched the lab and there was nothing there,” continued Leon.

  “I know but whoever left the note on the windscreen of the car may be trying to help us and could lead us to it.”

  “We can’t rely on ‘maybes’ and ‘coulds.’ We need to act. Heather, am I right in thinking that even if we do find an actual cure that it still won’t work on the zombies?”

  “That is correct.”

  Natalie hung her head, disheartened that the strongest character, and most vital to their survival in her opinion, was starting to lose faith. His body language said it all. He was fidgety, constantly looking over his shoulder, perhaps a sign to suggest the beginning of a severe case of paranoia.

  “Leon, we have to do something,” she finally said.

  Leon let out a sigh, an attempt to stall as he considered the next words to part his lips. “Listen. Whatever you do and wherever you go, I will be there next to you. But, like the crime being committed before this ever happened, it appears as though we are fighting a losing battle.”

  “Thank you, Leon,” said Natalie extending a look of gratitude and her own reassurance to his statement.

  Natalie knew, of course, that Leon’s words were true. They may well be fighting a losing battle but that didn’t mean they should simply give up. They had to try. They had to fight.

  PC Richards looked at his watch having pulled back the cuff of his public order overalls and walked over to his downed colleague to check his welfare. His last thought was that he had either died or been knocked unconscious. He soon realised which of the two were the case as the injured officer came back to consciousness.

  “How you feeling, Pete?” said John after giving him a few moments to register his mind.

  “I… feel… dizzy.”

  “Show me that arm.” John noticed that the officer’s right arm had something beneath the fabric of his fire retardant clothing that was pressing against it. “How does this arm feel?”

  “It bloody… hurts now you pointed it out.”

  “I think you have a broken arm. You probably have concussion too. C’mon, we’ll get you back.”

  John started leading Pete to one of their vehicles and heaved him into the back.

  “You g
oing already?” said Leon.

  “Won’t you stay? Strength in numbers an’ all that,” asked Devlin.

  “I’m afraid we can’t. We have a number of survivors that need us to return. Plus, Pete here is going to need medical aid and we have someone back at the ranch.”

  Natalie recognised the term ‘ranch’ as meaning their base, the police station. Officers in the Met often used that phrase.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” he continued.

  “I’m afraid we can’t,” said Natalie. “Someone is giving us clues and maybe, just maybe, they’ll lead us to a resolution that will end this.”

  “I understand.” John turned his attention to his remaining officers. “Guys, c’mon.” He then turned his attention back to Natalie. “I’m sure we will meet again. It was a pleasure fighting with you. And you’re welcome by the way.”

  “I’m sure we will. And, hey, we had the warehouse covered,” Natalie laughed. “The only problem was, they weren’t standing in a straight line.”

  “I’m sure.”

  The Hertfordshire officers entered their Ford vehicles once more and drove out the vehicle gate, Leon and Natalie waiting for the gate to close whilst Devlin and Heather headed back inside the police station utilising the entry point created by the monster they had killed.

  All four gathered in the canteen, their favourite spot, and enjoyed a packet of crisps each with a biscuit and their choice of hot drink being tea, coffee, hot chocolate and, for some strange reason, Bovril that Devlin had picked up. None elected to drink the Bovril.

  They entered the briefing room upon finishing the snacks and drinks to find somewhere comfortable that ended up being the four corners of the room where, in each, they fell asleep apart from Natalie. She had volunteered to stay awake and be on guard for the first four hours where they would then swap.

  At least, that was the idea. They were heavily fatigued and nobody would blame them. Within twenty minutes of the very people she was protecting falling asleep, so did she.

  ***

  The vehicles containing the Hertfordshire police officers approached the entrance of the M11 motorway, not too far from Lakeford police station where they found a man walking in the direction they had just come. They stopped to speak with him.