Devouring The Dead (Book 1)

by Russ Watts

  Reggie was in the church, his stiff body still prostrate on the cold stones where Benzo had smashed his brains in. Michelle’s baby had been eaten, but she had ventured further than most. With her body in tatters, she had still managed to haul herself down the stairs and out of the Fiscal Industries building into the courtyard. Leaving a trail of rotting guts and intestines behind her, Michelle’s body had walked out of the plaza, across the bridge and for no apparent reason, onto the A13. At one point, a group of the living, survivors, had raced past her, but she had been unable to catch them before they passed her. She followed in their wake, along with several thousand other dead, but the group had frustratingly escaped by a small boat on the Thames. Once her dead eyes watched them float out of sight, she had resumed hunting the living on land, day and night, the hunger that could never be satisfied never leaving her.

  Jackson held the list in his hands and stared at it. He stared at it, memorising the names on it. The roll call of the dead was a long one. Other than himself, only Tom and Caterina had survived from the office. Everyone else was dead. He was thankful for Christina, Jessica, and Rosa too, but he felt lonely. His wife, Mary, was dead. His friends were dead. His sister, her children, their pets, their friends, their teachers, their doctors and dentists: all dead.

  “Drink?” Tom offered Jackson a glass and sat down beside him. Jackson took it and drank. He folded the paper up and put it back in his pocket.

  “What’s that?” said Tom.

  “Nothing,” said Jackson. He reclined in the sofa, feeling guilty that he should be here, sitting in this comfortable chair drinking wine as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  The airport lounge was homely, warm and most of all, secure. Harry had warned them that the terminal, the rest of the building entirely however, was off limits; the dead still roamed the corridors, rooms and gates. Within the lounge though, they could do as they wished and, after Benzo had died, they had all found their way inside.

  Christina and Caterina had washed up, showering in icy cold water, not caring how cold it was, just relishing in its freshness, thankful to feel clean once again. They had found a couple of discarded coats and left their dirty clothes to dry, having rinsed them in the same shower. Jessica had coaxed Rosa into the building eventually, but she had withdrawn into herself. Jessica had given Rosa food and water, but she’d refused to speak. Finally, Jessica had lain Rosa down on a couch, covered her with a blanket, and left her alone. Rosa succumbed to a light sleep, utterly exhausted, leaving Jessica to herself.

  Tom had wanted to talk to her, but the shock of seeing Benzo die had been too much for all of them. They were malnourished, weak, scared: they had taken this refuge, this bizarre home, and crashed. They had all found their own place to hunker down and think, letting their minds and bodies crash until they could think clearly again. The dead were always close.

  Tom had left Harry alone outside with his dead son, and like sinking into a pit of tar, let sleep pull his aching body onto the nearest seat in the lounge. He had slept for five hours and when he’d awoken, he was hungry. The bar was well stocked and he devoured crisps, shortbread, and biscuits, before downing two pints of water.

  “Is that right?” asked Jackson looking at the ticking clock above the bar.

  “I think so,” said Tom. “Feels right.”

  They both turned to look out of the window at the runway. The sun was still high, yet it was mid-afternoon. The clouds had skittered away and left an untarnished deep blue sky. Tom thought about the jets they had seen earlier. Before he could say anything Jackson spoke.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “As well as can be expected I suppose,” said Tom. Harry was still outside, sat on the tarmac. About an hour ago, Jackson watched him pick up Benzo’s body and take it somewhere out of sight. After a few minutes, Harry returned and sat on the tarmac ever since.

  “And how are you doing?” said Jackson.

  “Yeah, fine I suppose. I...I guess, I don’t know really. I’m alive. We’re here. That’s all. You?”

  “I’m here, but I don’t know why. So many younger, healthier people should be here instead of me. Benzo should be sat here now talking to you, not me.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Jackson, it’s nobody’s fault. We all did our best and we all knew the risks out here. It’s just...”

  “...Shit,” said Jackson finishing Tom’s sentence.

  “Yeah, it’s shit.”

  Tom got up and grabbed two bottles of beer from the bar.

  “I’m going out to see him.”

  Jackson watched as Tom went back outside, feeling the afternoon warmth temporarily invading the cool lounge as the door swung open.

  Tom sat down beside Harry on the tarmac. They said nothing and Harry took the beer from Tom. They sat on the runway, past the army trucks and jeeps, away from Ferrera’s body, looking out at the city through the chain link fence that surrounded them.

  It was quiet. After the past few days, Tom felt it more so; the quietness and stillness unnervingly unusual. He knew that a few feet away, the other side of the lounge, there were a hundred zombies. Yet, out here, the only movement came as a seagull flew overhead, wheeling away silently. Nothing approached the fence, no more jets flew overhead and no traffic noise reached them. The sun’s heat rebounded from the tarmac and Tom began sweating after only a few minutes. He wondered how Benzo’s father could stand it out here all day.

  “Did you know him well?” said Harry.

  “Quite well, but not for long. We’ve been together the last few days, ever since this thing started,” said Tom. “Jackson knows him better than anyone. Benzo saved my life, all our lives.”

  “He was a good son,” said Harry. “I knew he’d come here. He was a thinker, was my boy. He was going to make something of himself. When he was five, we thought about having another kid, giving him a brother or sister you know, but we couldn’t. I’m glad now.”

  Tom didn’t respond but sipped on the cold beer, beads of sweat trickling down his neck.

  “So tell me, how did you get here, why the airport?”

  “How we got here is a long story. Why? Well, we just figured it made sense; it’s the closest place to the city where we thought we might be able to find help and get out of here.”

  “Good idea,” said Harry. “I was banking on it. I tried to get to your office, to reach Benzo, but it was impossible. They’re everywhere. The whole city is infested. I managed to get home, but my wife was already gone. One of the neighbours had broken in and...well, anyway, there was no point waiting at home. I knew Benzo had more sense than to try too.

  “It was a long shot, but I eventually made it here and just kept my fingers crossed Benzo would make it too. I’m glad you came today - I was going to give up tomorrow. There’s only so much food in there and with Ferrera taking half of it, things were...tense.”

  “I’m sorry about Benzo,” said Tom.

  Harry chugged on his beer until half of it was gone. “So tell me, how did you get here? How did Benzo end up like that? We’ve plenty of time now,” he said, smiling at Tom.

  They talked for a couple of hours with just the sun, the sky, and cold beer for company. When the sun finally sank behind the nearby buildings and the cool shade crept up on them, they went back inside.

  Once inside the lounge, Jackson made a beeline for Harry.

  “Sorry for your loss, Harry, Benzo was a good man. He was my friend,” he said shaking hands.

  “Appreciate that,” said Harry. Jackson saw a different man to that he had met earlier. He had looked into the eyes of a man earlier who had looked desperate, a man who had killed to survive, who hadn’t found what he was looking for. Now he saw something stronger.

  Harry went to the bar and pulled a cold bottle of water out.

  “I’m sorry we met like this everyone, but I’d like to talk to all of you, if that’s okay?”

  His self-assured posture and resonant voice brought instant attention and
focus in the room. Jessica and Rosa got up from the couch and ventured over to him, Caterina and Christina too, finding large plush chairs to sit in nearby, whilst Tom and Jackson leant against the bar. With the small group of six sat around him expectantly, Harry began.

  “I’m Harry, for those of you who haven’t met me. There are a few things we should talk about. First of all, I want to thank you for bringing my son here. I know things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’m thankful that I was able to see him again one last time before he died. For that I am indebted to all of you.”

  “To Benzo and all our friends, past and present,” said Jackson holding up a glass. There were small murmurs toasting Benzo and their dead friends. Harry continued.

  “Secondly, I assume, and hope, that you will stay here tonight? There is plenty of room for all of us. If you want some privacy, then Private Ferrera was staying in the aeroplane out there, you can stay there if you like. Within the fence, we’re safe. The plane is safe too. I don’t think Ferrera will be using it anymore.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Christina, “I don’t mean to be blunt, but I think we should do something about him. I mean we can’t just leave him out there, what if his body attracts...them?”

  “Agreed. When we’re through, Tom and I are going to take care of him. We’ll dispose of the body in the river. Anyone object?”

  Nobody said anything and Harry went on.

  “I should add, before I go on, that I am not in charge. I am simply taking the floor as I’ve been talking to Tom, and it sounds like I know a bit more about our situation than the rest of you. I’ll fill you all in as best I can, but then any decisions we make will be made by us. By you.

  “This thing, this infection; once it gets hold of you, there is no way back. There is no cure. By rights, as soon as Marin, I mean Benzo, was infected, you should’ve taken care of him. That means if any one of us gets infected, we have to expect the same. And that also means, be careful. You’re safe within the airport perimeter, but don’t go attracting unnecessary attention. Make too much noise and they’ll be on us in a heartbeat. These walls are not that thick, and I don’t need to tell you what is on the other side.”

  “What happened to everyone?” said Caterina. “Is there any chance my parents might still be...?”

  “No,” said Harry. “The authorities tried to enforce a curfew, they tried to evacuate, but it was too late. From the city only a few hundred got out.”

  “Out of millions, you’re saying only a few hundred got away?” Christina felt Caterina’s hand tighten around hers.

  “I’m afraid the chances of finding a loved one alive are worse than winning the lottery. Actually, that brings me on to my next point.”

  “How to find your loved ones,” said Jackson quietly.

  “Exactly.” Harry poured himself a glass of water. “Nobody is coming for us. There will be no rescue missions, no flotilla of boats to take us away, and the SAS is not going to parachute in and whisk us away in a tank or a helicopter or anything else you might have dreamed about. I’m only telling you this so you are aware of all the facts.

  “Speaking from experience, I can tell you that we were reliant on technology that ultimately proved pointless: guns, bombs, satellites and fast cars. Nothing could save us. The city, the whole country in fact, was so bloody over crowded that when one got infected, it spread to the next like an unstoppable chain reaction. It was dog eat dog.

  “There is no police anymore. There is no government. There are no doctors and nurses, no hospitals, no schools. What’s left of the British army is dying out there on the tarmac with its guts hanging out, ready to be the next meal for whatever zombie stumbles this way. We are on our own. Completely on our own.”

  “Don’t hold back, eh?” said Jessica. “So what are you saying, we might as well have one last big alcohol-fuelled orgy and then slit our wrists?”

  “No, he’s not saying that,” said Tom.

  “If I thought that, then I wouldn’t be stood here now,” said Harry. “Neither would you. You’re here because you’re a fighter; a survivor. You didn’t make it this far with an apathetic attitude, so please don’t grow one now. No, what I’m saying is we need a plan; a concrete plan that will get us out of the country safely, all of us, and all in one piece.”

  “But how, where?” said Rosa. “We haven’t got further than three miles yet and you think we can leave the country? Do you know how to fly a plane, because I can’t see how else we’re getting out of here?”

  “What about a boat?” said Jackson. “We got this far with a tiny piece of shit boat no bigger than this sofa - if we find something bigger, maybe we can get across the channel?”

  Harry was shaking his head. “Any of you know how to steer a boat? Any of you even know the difference between starboard and port? Between a rudder and mast?”

  “I’d give it a try. Better than staying here and waiting to die,” said Jessica.

  Harry smiled. “I hear you on that one, Jess. But if we flew a plane out of here, we would almost certainly be shot down in two minutes. If we tried to sail a ship, no matter how big or small, we’d be blown out of the water.”

  “Why?” said Tom. “They’d have to know we weren’t infected. Zombies don’t fly planes.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Harry. “When you contain and isolate an incident that’s exactly what you do. This whole country is, effectively, isolated now. Britain has been contained, like a specimen in a jar. You think the Americans or the Russians are going to risk the end of their country, the end of the world, just to save half a dozen Brits? There’s too much at stake, too much money at stake for that. For all they know, we’ve got something on board that could be infected and that’s a threat to them. In times of war, threats are dealt with as they only know how.”

  “Deadly force, right?” said Jackson.

  “You got anything stronger than water, Harry?” said Christina. He plucked a beer from the fridge and tossed it to her. As she opened it, Caterina grabbed it and stole a quick mouthful.

  “I think I’m forgiven, under the circumstances,” she said winking, passing the bottle back to Christina.

  “So what then?” said Tom.

  Harry sighed. “In the force I had some good contacts and I was party to a lot of information that, shall we say, is not common knowledge. My boss, a friend, a good friend that I trust, knew I wouldn’t leave without my son. I talked to him before he got out and he told me that if I made it, there would be only one way out of the country. They would leave the door open as long as possible, but that door closes tomorrow.

  “We have to get to France. Not by air or sea, but underground. It’s the only way.”

  “The tunnel?” said Christina. “Shit, really?”

  “Back underground again?” said Jessica. “No way, we tried that once and it cost us a friend. Parker was bitten down there in the dark and we nearly didn’t make it out.”

  “It might work,” said Tom. “You know for sure it’s safe?”

  “Pretty sure,” said Harry. “As soon as the infection broke out, the tunnel was closed off at both ends. It’s not sealed though, there’s still a way in. The Super’ told me it would only be sealed seven days after it began. It won’t be sealed this end, there’s no one here to do it.”

  “So our fate is in the hands of the French?” said Jackson. “Then we really are fucked.”

  “Think on it,” said Harry. “Getting to the tunnel entrance is the hard part. If we can do that, the tunnel will be deserted. There’s no reason for the dead to go down there, nothing to attract them. It’s a long walk, but I think it’s our best shot.”

  “Why don’t we just stay here?” said Jessica. “Find a deserted part of the country, an old house or something and stay there. They can’t leave Britain forever, surely?”

  “True, not forever,” said Harry. “There’s a lot of land here that’s valuable to the right people. Someone will come back eventually. Of course, it’s
contaminated by seventy million infected dead bodies, so it would have to be purified first.”

  “Purified?” said Jessica nervously. “You mean wiped clean, like..?”

  “Probably not nuclear,” said Harry. “That would ruin the land for generations. My guess is a firestorm. Burn the country from top to bottom. They’d burn everything of course, leave nothing to chance. I’m not telling you that you can’t stay, Jessica, maybe I’m wrong. But I would strongly urge you to come with me.”

  There was silence in the room as they thought. Tom already knew his decision.

  “Tom, can you help me with Ferrera? I think I’d like to shift him and have a wash. Then maybe we can talk some more?”

  Harry left with Tom and the room stayed silent. It took the two of them just over half an hour to get rid of Ferrera’s body. They carried him down the runway as far as possible and then threw him into a small channel of water than ran between the two runways. Ferrera’s body bobbed up and down in the water as the tide gradually took him away from the airport.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Tom as they walked back.

  “Pleased to hear it, son,” said Harry. Tom welled up on hearing those words. He was remembering the day he told his father he was going to college, when his own father had used the exact same words.

  They walked back to the lounge and found a greeting party when they returned. In the coolness of the lounge, Christina, Caterina, Jackson, Jessica, and Rosa stood before them.

  “We’re in,” said Jackson.

  “All of us,” said Jess. She gave Tom a smile and he marvelled at how beautiful she looked, even after all that had happened.

  “We’d better get some rest then,” said Harry. “We’ll gather up some food and water, as much as we can carry. There are guns out there too. I know Ferrera had a stash on the plane. This time tomorrow, with a little luck, we’ll be out of here. If we make good time, who knows, we could be in Paris.”