Natalie leaps up off the floor, gasping in terror, her eyes like headlights. Curtis is stirring, but still unconscious.
“We need to get her outside,” I say as I watch Adriana slowly get up from the floor, her dead body all twisted and bleeding. She starts to lurch towards Jonny, dragging herself along like a puppet with only one string. My heart rushes as she gets closer. Jonny backs away, heading towards the spectator seats. Adriana follows him.
“Get the fuck back,” Jonny orders her, as if she’s nothing more than a pissed off Rottweiler. He swings the blade at her, but she doesn’t flinch.
I need to do something. I need to help him.
To the left of me is another stool. I grab it by its legs and point the seat-end at her like a jousting lance. Adriana snarls at Jonny, and then at Natalie, as if choosing a victim. She doesn’t notice me, so I race towards her, ramming the stool into her chest. She flies backwards into Ted. Jonny moves away, towards Natalie, the knife still pointed at the Nec.
“Hit her again!” he shouts. “Now!”
Before Adriana can get back on her feet, I slam her with the stool again. And again. But the seat is too soft and flat to do any real damage; it’s only buying us time.
Jonny grabs one of the other stools. I step back, out of his way. Let him have a go. He’s strong. He might do more damage. But instead of whacking her over the head, he launches the stool at the huge window. The glass shatters cleanly, sending a loud rippling explosion around the room. A gush of wind blows through the opening—so does the sound of a stadium full of Necs.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask in astonishment.
He picks up another stool and drives the legs into Adriana’s face, piercing her right eye. “She needs to go!”
Unflinching, Adriana goes for Jonny, arms outstretched, mouth oozing. I swing my stool like a cricket bat and hit her in the mouth, destroying whatever’s left of her jaw. I back away in fright when it does nothing to slow her. But she has her sights locked onto Jonny.
“Get her to the window,” he says, moving towards it, prodding her with the stool legs. “Come on, Alf. Help me.”
He’s the last person I feel like helping, but like it or not, we’re in this together. I slip to the side of the Nec and let her pass, until I’m directly behind her. Half-blinded, with her jaw hanging by a sinew, she staggers towards him as he makes his way backwards down the steps.
“Come on, you stupid bitch,” Jonny says, reaching the broken window. “You wanna take a bite out of me? Come on, you know you want to.” He signals with his head for me to follow her.
Adrenaline surging, I creep behind her as she ambles down the steps. She claws at Jonny, but all she touches are the legs of the stool.
The rumble of the stadium blows in as I get closer to her. My hands are shaking. But she needs to go. Once she’s in front of the opening, I dart towards her, and then thrust the stool into her back. Adriana flies from the VIP suite, out of sight, landing with a thud.
Jonny and me look at each other, and then simultaneously let out a long sigh of relief.
One Nec down, one to go.
We can no longer keep Ted in here with us. He has to go too. I try not to think of them as husband and wife. That couple left hours ago. These are just Necs. And if you can’t burn them, then throwing them out a window with a fifteen-foot drop will have to do.
I think about glancing down to see where she’s landed, but I’m too afraid Jonny will push me out after her. So I quickly head for the steps.
I wince in fright when I see another rotter, staring at me through the window of the neighbouring room. Its pale skin face and hands are pressed against the glass, watching us like zoo animals.
“Fuck me!” Jonny blurts out. I turn and see him staring at the opposite window, at two more Necs scratching from behind the glass.
The noise. It must have drawn them.
With Necs either side of us, I feel even more boxed in.
“We need help,” Natalie says, as if the prospect has only now occurred to her. “We’re not gonna last the night.”
“Don’t say that,” I tell her. “We need to have a little faith.”
There’s a loud stomping at the door, followed by an orchestra of groans. The sofa begins to shift under the force of pounding fists. Oh shit, they’re back! I sprint over to the sofa, climb up, and push hard on the door. “Come on! Help me!” I yell. But my voice is drowned by the sound of Necs outside; a riot of dead men and women.
And children.
The noise increases.
Natalie’s eyes are locked on the door, her body frozen.
“Help me, Jonny!”
He doesn’t listen; his eyes look resigned.
We’re fucked. And he knows it.
The Necs from next door are slamming their fists against the glass. The sound is deafening. They’re gonna shatter any minute.
The room is now engulfed in chaos.
The walls are closing in.
I can’t breathe, but I still keep pushing against the door. I won’t let them get me. I won’t let them beat me.
Alfie Button doesn’t go down without a fight!
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket for the first time in hours. It’s working again. That’s got to be a good sign! I can’t resist the urge to check it. The signal has vanished again, but one text message has slipped through the net. I open the message and read it.
Alfie. You need to get out
of there any way you can.
Help is NOT coming!
They’re going to
blow up the stadium.
Get the hell out now!
I love you so much.
Please come home.
Wendy x
19
“She’s wrong,” Natalie says, standing on the sofa, her shoulder pushing against the door. “There’s no way they’d blow up the stadium. It’s a mistake.”
The doorframe has started to come away from the wall, pieces of plaster spraying over the sofa. “That’s what she said,” I reply, standing between her and Jonny, our bodies pressed against the door as well. “She wouldn’t lie.” The force from outside is increasing by the second, as if more and more Necs have joined in.
I hear the sound of the lock snapping.
“That’s exactly what I’d do,” Jonny says, his words strained; his face bright red. “How else are they gonna contain the outbreak?”
“They’ll rescue us,” Natalie replies, her body vibrating as the door is shunted. “They’ll send in a team of Cleaners. They always do.”
“Don’t be so stupid,” Jonny snaps. “That’s never gonna happen. There could be twenty thousand Necs in here. How are they supposed to tranquilise that many?”
“They could drop a gas bomb,” Natalie suggests. “Sedate us all. The government would never agree to killing us all. This is Britain, not some third world country.”
“No, he’s right,” I say, struggling to keep my feet firmly on the sofa. “The government has to. They can’t risk all those Necs infecting the city. That’ll be the end—for everyone.”
I catch Natalie glancing at Curtis as he starts to come to, still lying on the ground. A look of utter hopelessness spreads across her face. “Then what the hell are we supposed to do?” she asks, clearly holding back her tears. “Just wait here to die?”
I shake my head. “No. We fight. We don’t wait to die. Once we’ve held these Necs off, we’ll find a way out of the stadium. No one’s gonna blow us up.” As the words leave my mouth, I’m not even sure I really believe them. I will fight; I know that much. But the odds of getting out of here—in one piece—are pretty slim.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Alfie,” Jonny says. “The dumb bitch is right—we’re fucked! How the hell are we meant to get out of this stadium? Climb over the roof? It’s completely locked down, you moron.”
“If we don’t stand a chance,” I reply, “then why the fuck are you holding this door shut? Why don’t you just let
them all in here?”
“Simple. I’d rather get blown up than have some stinking rotter pull out my intestines. Wouldn’t you?”
I don’t answer.
But only because it’s the truth—getting blown up does sound like the less painful way to go. But screw that—I won’t go out that easily. I’m better than that. Stronger.
The sofa starts to shift under our feet as the door hinges loosen. They’re almost in. Visions of my innards being torn out fill my head. I try to shake them off, but they’re too vivid. Come one, Alfie! You can do this! This is just another problem to solve. I’ve spent my whole life staying alive, coping with lousy cards. This is just another shitty day to add to the list. Tomorrow will be a good day, preparing for another bad one. Suck it up!
“Oh my God, they’re nearly in,” Natalie sobs as the top hinge pops off, bouncing on the carpet. The door starts to break free from the frame, held only by the sofa, the one remaining hinge, and us.
“Keep pushing,” I struggle to say as fingers start to sprout through the gap. “We can do this!”
The noise all around is almost too much to bear. The army of Necs behind the door, scratching, growling, fists hammering; Ted screaming from the bar, fighting to free himself from his restraint; each neighbouring window moments away from breaking; and the echoes of a stadium, lost to infection in one short day.
Jonny is right—we don’t stand a chance. None of us. We’ve got nowhere to run, a bomb about to be dropped on our heads, and a fifteen-foot plunge onto a stand swarming with Necs.
All I can do is close my eyes and push—push harder than I’ve ever pushed before.
“Fuck this!” Jonny announces as he releases the door and leaps off the sofa.
“What are you doing?” I scream, as even more rotting fingers and arms worm their way inside. “I can’t hold them without you!”
“I’m going out the window,” he says with confidence. “Fuck this shit.”
“Help us, you fucking coward!” Natalie shrieks, her body thrashing as the door quakes, the wood splitting from its centre.
“Fuck you!” Jonny snaps, just as Curtis sinks his teeth into his exposed calf muscle.
Jonny squeals in agony, crashing backwards onto the carpet.
“Oh shit!” I cry out as Curtis quickly mounts Jonny’s chest and bites down into his face, tearing the skin away from his skull.
“Get him off me!” Jonny pleads as Curtis locks his jaws around his throat. Natalie screams in horror as a fountain of blood gushes over her.
“Help me!” Jonny gargles. “Please!”
“What are you doing?” Natalie weeps at her brother, letting go of the door and leaping down from the sofa. “Curtis!”
I’m now the only one left holding back the dead. They’re nearly in. I watch Natalie’s entire face drop when Curtis turns to her, hissing, with a mouthful of Jonny’s blood and skin. Her brother’s eyes are now colourless, brimming with infection.
Jonny’s body shudders and twitches as Curtis rips out his windpipe.
I can barely contemplate what I’m witnessing.
How the hell did this happen? When did he get infected?
But then I see it, as if the truth was always there, hidden in the chaos, and death, and urgency, blinding me to the facts. Curtis must have been bitten when I saved him on the concourse. He must have kept it hidden from us.
Did Natalie already know? Did she keep it from us, from Jonny?
“Curtis!” she cries, her words lined with dismay. “It’s me. It’s Natalie.”
The door comes completely away from the frame. A pungent waft of death hits me as the first dead man forces his way in. I push with every ounce of strength I have to keep him out.
“We have to jump,” I shout to Natalie, the entire sofa sliding away from the door.
She doesn’t hear me; her attention is locked on her brother.
“He’s dead, Natalie,” I say. “You can’t save him. We need to jump. Right now!”
She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving without him.”
“You’ve got to. There’s nothing you can do for him.”
Ignoring me, she moves closer to her brother. “Curtis. It’s me. It’s your sister.”
The Necs start to scramble through the gap like cockroaches. I have no choice but to release the door. “Come on!” I yell, grabbing Natalie by the shoulders. “We have to go!” I lose my grip as she twists her body, elbowing me in the chest. Before I can even try a second attempt, the Necs storm the room. I manage to leap out of the way, and then dart towards the broken window. When I get there, when I step onto the ledge, I glance back. But it’s too late for her. There are no screams, no time to run, just drowning, swallowed up in a sea of rotters.
I have no time grieve, to call out to her, there’re too many of them, clawing their way inside the VIP suite—the safe haven, the place I dreamed about for years.
That great summer smell has gone, replaced by the stink of rotting flesh and disease.
And there’s nothing left to do now.
Only jump…
20
The stadium is a blur as I drop down—a mix of black sky, steel, and giant white pillars.
It’s over in seconds. In the chaos of the fall, I still manage to land feet first on something soft.
It’s bodies—in a mass, piled on top of each together.
I lose my footing and roll onto the concrete floor, between a row of seats. The bone in my left wrist makes a horrid cracking sound as I hit the hard surface. In agony, I try to get up, unsure how many Necs there are around me. I feel like I’ve just fallen into a lion’s den, waiting for the father to wake.
Suddenly I hear a loud thump.
Then another.
Looking back up at the VIP suite opening, I see a flood of Necs stepping off the ledge, landing on the pile; bones crunching as some miss the bodies, hitting the concrete instead. Got to move now! Using just my legs and right arm, I start to crawl, heading towards the aisle steps. But as more and more Necs land like lemmings off a cliff, the weight of bodies above me increases, trapping my legs. In a desperate panic, I try to wriggle free, but they’re too heavy. Grabbing onto the metal base of a seat, I manage to pull myself out from under the Necs, one inch at a time. But then another one rolls onto my thighs. And another, until I’m buried, with just my head and arms free. Chest restricted, I can barely breathe. I twist and squirm, but I don’t get anywhere. With every ounce of strength left, I pull as hard as I can on the metal base, but more and more bodies settle on top, submerging me. All I can do is cover my head with my arms.
In the darkness, I think about Wendy. But as the air around me starts to vanish, so do the thoughts of seeing her again.
I can’t move, can’t even cry for help.
With everything that I’ve been through, everyone close to me dying, right in front of my eyes, escaping an army of Necs—and this is how it all ends.
Crushed to death.
My nose hits the concrete as another body crashes down above me.
I try to hang onto the image of Wendy’s face. Let hers be the last I see before I die. She’s waiting by the living room window as I walk down the drive. It was only a stupid job at the petrol station. God knows why she got so excited. It’s probably because her husband is a deadbeat wanker, who has never worked a day in his life. I see myself sitting behind the till, making sure Ginge doesn’t get me sacked as he drools over the porn mags. Why? It’s not like he doesn’t have the Internet at home.
And then I see Natalie. But Natalie from The Farmers Arms. The happy girl with the perfect smile and blue eyes. At least she got to keep them. At least she won’t turn into one of these monsters. That’s worth the pain.
I fight for my final breath of air. Savouring every last drop like it’s an ice-cold beer.
And I close my eyes.
21
Light.
I see a light, trickling through the darkness.
It’s not Heaven
because I can feel the pain in my broken wrist.
For the first time in my life, I’m glad I feel the pain. It feels like an old friend, back from my shitty childhood. A childhood that most of the time I’d gladly forget. But at least I feel something. Dead people don’t feel things.
I must be alive.
Light is seeping in through a small gap in front of me. Where the hell is it coming from? The last time I checked, it was still night-time. Have I been unconscious for all that time? I’m still buried in a mix of Necs and dead bodies (the proper kind, that is). Where the hell has the gap come from? Maybe some of the Necs have managed to crawl away, wandered off somewhere else.
Was I bitten while I was unconscious?
No, there’s no way they’d be able to get at me from under here. I try to slither forward, but cry out in agony when my hand pushes against the concrete. It’s definitely broken. I’ve sprained it before, but this feels much worse. Using my elbows, I manage to wriggle forward a little, gaining a few inches. The weight above is still pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Got to stay calm, can’t panic; conserve my air. I keep moving, closer and closer to the breach. When I finally reach it, I see that it’s the space between someone’s hand and another person’s head. I try not to think about all the people that died here today. Now is not the time. The clock is ticking and I ain’t getting blown up. No fucking way!
As my forehead touches the clammy skin of a dead man, I recoil but push my face through anyway. I manage to twist slowly around, one inch at a time, so I’m able to see any Necs standing over me. There aren’t any; all I see is the orange sky. The sun must be coming up. For the first time ever, it seems so beautiful. Usually, I don’t give a crap about shit like that, but today is different—today it feels important. Not sure if it’s because I’m alive and I get to see it again, or that it could well be the last time I see it. I’m almost hypnotised by its magnitude and warmth. I don’t care how weak it—
There’s a dead woman standing in front of me.
Her black leather boots are next to my head. She looks down at me; her face a yellowy green, the sides of her mouth covered in dry blood. I try to push myself back under the pile, but can’t; its weight has already settled, trapping my legs again. I cover my head with my arms and close my eyes tightly.
The Zombie Saga (Book 3): Burn The Dead: Riot Page 10