The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  She frowns at noticing this gate is also ajar, looking at the inner gate, then back to the outer gate she guessed the hasty exit the guards would have made as they came to realise the world around them was falling. Marcy leads the girls through the inner gate into the prison grounds proper.

  Everything spick and span, the concrete road leads curved to the solid squat buildings ahead. Windows narrow and high, firmly set in place and never opened. The grounds looked sculpted and manicured, more like the grounds of an historic house than a prison. Lawns cut short but showing signs of unimpeded growth. Edges neatly trimmed, flower beds laid out in exact patterns and free from any signs of weeds.

  Pristine benches dot the area, each one clean and looking well maintained. It was amazing that a place like this, used to keep the sickest people safely away from society could have such an elegant and beautiful setting. Most public parks were covered in graffiti, littered with waste with foul mouthed youths swigging from bottle of cider, used syringes by the bushes and dog shit everywhere. Something about the sight made her feel disgusted, that the evil of the men within could be allowed to live in such surroundings. She figures it would be the inmates themselves who kept the grounds so pristine, but even that thought disgusted her. That they could work in the open, creating something so nice while everyone else suffered the daily toil of working dead end jobs, struggling to make ends meet while meeting the expectations of the communities within which they lived.

  There should be piles of concrete delivered every day and a big stack of sledge hammers for them to use while smashing it up. You want to eat? Then you work. Not hovering about tending an already pristine lawn but proper work, hard work. The kind of work that millions of men had to endure every day in order to earn enough money to feed their families.

  This isn’t right. Something about this plan makes her feel uncomfortable, she looks at the grounds then at the girl who seem so perfectly suited to the exquisite surroundings.

  ‘April, run back and bring me men, I want the biggest, ugliest and nastiest looking men we’ve got.’

  ‘Yes Marcy,’ April jogs off quickly leaving Marcy staring with determination at the building ahead. Giving these girls over will be rewarding the men inside, giving them a final act of pleasure before they’re turned. The act of turning is reward enough, giving them a treat as they go sickens her.

  They pause at the front of the building, staring at the thick metal door propped open to reveal a reception area within. April returns, jogging ahead of a collection of huge nasty looking undead males. Marcy nods with satisfaction at the sight of them, turning she walks through the door, entering the reception area.

  A high wooden desk fixed to the end of the wall, everything looks clean but the smell inside is strong. The scent of humans, male humans. Marcy walks to the far door, a thick metal cell like door firmly closed and locked. The other standard interior doors within the area lead to offices, meeting rooms and cupboards.

  ‘Here,’ April says from behind the desk holding up a large bunch of keys, ‘there’s a note too.’

  ‘Read it,’ Marcy says.

  ‘It says…The cells have been opened, the cell blocks are not sealed, be warned; the inmates within the main block are loose, we waited for change over but no one came, we tried calling the governor and senior staff but the phones were down, Harry Holbrook went into the estate to visit the governors house but he never came back, we waited until Saturday but we have families too. The senior officer on duty made the decision. The inmates know something is happening from the radio broadcasts they heard.’

  A dull thud rings out from the other side of the metal cell door, a muffled voice calling out. Marcy presses her finger to lips, indicating to the others to remain silent. A needless act as they never speak unless required. She moves closer to the door, pressing her ear against the cool metal.

  ‘I heard voices, I’m telling ya, someone is out there,’ a male voice speaks on the other side. More thuds bang against the door, firm hammering that vibrates the door within the frame.

  ‘HEY, ANYONE THERE?’ The same voice calls out. Marcy turns back to her horde, as one and in perfect synchronisation the men move to the side of the door, pressing themselves against the wall. The girls stand just a few feet back, staring at her. Marcy looks at the door, then at her girls and moves them back, creating a greater distance.

  ‘Hello?’ She calls out.

  ‘Shit, I bloody told you…Hey yeah we’re in here, who is that?’

  ‘Marcy, I work in the admin building, are you all still in there?’

  ‘Oh thank god. Yes! We’re all still in here, we been left here for days now, what’s going on? We’ve heard nothing.’

  ‘There was an outbreak of a disease, they’re getting it under control now but it’s taking time.’

  ‘Yeah we heard on the radio but that was like over a week ago, there’s been nothing since then.’

  ‘Everything went down, the masts, the satellites, it’s been awful,’ Marcy replies.

  ‘Where are the officers? Are they coming back?’

  ‘They lost loads from the disease, the ones left have been sent to the young offenders prisons, they’re using the army on the streets, soldiers everywhere. They asked me to come and find out if you were still here, no one knew.’

  ‘Yes we’re still bloody here, the foods almost run out and our bedding is filthy. I can’t believe we’ve been left like this. There’s been fights and everything, this isn’t on, we cannot be treated like this, we’ve got rights you know.’

  ‘Why didn’t you break out?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘How? We’re well inside the block, we got no way of doing anything and we didn’t know what was going on, it could have been more dangerous out there…’

  ‘Okay, how many of you are there?’

  ‘You should know that if you work in the admin block.’

  ‘I do the finances for the officers expenditure, and I only started a month ago,’ Marcy replies quickly.

  ‘Look love, this is an outrageous way to treat human beings, some of us need medication…that ran out bloody ages ago, we’ve had no counselling sessions, no treatments…just left alone to rot, we’re going to start a civil action as soon as we can, you know that don’t you.’

  ‘Oh right, no I…well I guess you can do that.’

  ‘Course we can, we’re not having this! We got rights, there’s laws and rules that say about how we should be treated, dignity and respect and all that…heads are going to roll for this.’

  ‘How many prisoners are there?’

  ‘Prisoners! We’re not prisoners, we’re patients undergoing treatment…that is unacceptable terminology to use.’

  ‘But you are convicted inmates though aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes but we’re not called prisoners, we’re patients…we’ve got illnesses and psychological problems.’

  ‘The army asked me to find out how many were inside?’

  ‘Why aren’t the bloody army here doing it themselves?’

  ‘They’re busy, they’ve got loads to do and I think they’re stretched as it is.’

  ‘Stretched? You hear that? Stretched…that is disgusting, leaving us here while they sort everyone else out first.’

  ‘How many?’ Marcy asks again, keeping her voice light but with an increasing look of hostility on her face.

  ‘One hundred and twenty two.’

  ‘Is that all? I thought there were hundreds of you.’

  ‘Christ, don’t you know anything, this is going down on the list you know, sending us a bloody trainee to ask stupid question, should be an accredited officer you know, we’ve got rights.’

  ‘Why so few of you?’ Marcy presses.

  ‘Because my love,’ the man says in a distinctly patronising tone, ‘we are a high dependency unit that requires intensive therapy with a higher than normal staff to patient ratio.’

  ‘Why?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Why? Why do you bloody think? This place is full
of rapists and child molesters, there’s bloody murderers in here that would shag a dog if they could…that’s why.’

  ‘Oh I see, so you’re all serious offenders then?’

  ‘What is this? What the hell has that got to do with us getting food and clean sheets? This is a clear breach of our human rights you know, and you asking those sorts of questions is in clear breach of the rules, it infringes on our civil liberties and causes undue distress.’

  Marcy grips the keys, sorting through them to match the right one to the lock, ‘hang on, I’ll open the door…there’s some food coming in a minute.’

  ‘You’re opening the door?’ The man asks in a shocked tone.

  ‘You said you needed food and sheets, there’s some coming, I’ve got some of the admin girls here to help get you sorted out…there’s no danger to us is there, after what you just said…’

  ‘We’re not bloody animals you know, get this door open and maybe you’ll avoid being listed on our civil action.’

  ‘I’m just looking for the right key,’ Marcy replies, the tone of the man sent her thirst for flesh soaring, a deep longing to tear him apart and end his existence. Her horde instinctively picked up on her anger, their otherwise placid faces becoming fixed with aggression.

  ‘Just hurry up,’ the man snaps, ‘go and tell the others they’re opening the door for fresh food and bedding,’ the man’s voice muffles slightly as he turns to speak to someone else. ‘Okay, I’ll ask…what about meds? We need meds in here too.’

  ‘Meds? I don’t know anything about medication,’ Marcy replies, still sorting through the many keys.

  ‘Well I suggest you get someone who does, get an army doctor up here so we can speak to them, this isn’t right…I haven’t had my sleeping pills for over a week.’

  ‘There’s people dying of hunger out here, the disease has crippled everything…I don’t think sleeping pills will be at the top of their agenda.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ the man shouts, ‘I don’t care what the hell is going on out there, we’re patients undergoing treatment and we’ve got rights!’

  ‘I’ve got the right key,’ Marcy says, applying tension to the key and feeling the first bite of the lock retracting, ‘now listen you’re not to step over the threshold, there’s only me and a few girls here so we’re putting ourselves at risk here for you and the soldiers are all down in the town…’

  The response comes slowly, ‘okay,’ a drawn out sound that speaks volumes of the sudden intent forming.

  Marcy turns the key, disengaging the lock and pulling the door open. She keeps her head low as though watching the swing of the door. Glancing up she takes in the men all stood there watching her. Jaws going slack at the sight of her cleavage hanging out from the low cut top, her tanned skin and tussled hair. She draws the door open, revealing the admin girls stood looking down.

  More men arrive to stand beyond the threshold, their animated faces becoming dazed at the sight of the women. Dirty looking creatures with lank hair, pale skin and beady eyes. Some of them look well groomed, others look downright dangerous with the essence of the sexual predator just dripping off them.

  ‘Hi,’ Marcy smiles quickly, dropping her head and making a meal of pulling the key from the lock, ‘now you promised not to cross the threshold…there’s only us here…all vulnerable and alone.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ the man at the front says, Marcy recognises his voice as the man speaking to her through the door. He looks slimy, with a permanent sneer etched onto his stubbled face. His eyes lingering with undisguised hunger on her figure. He steps forward, a slow movement, eyes fixed on Marcy.

  ‘Hey now,’ Marcy steps back, ‘you said you wouldn’t cross the threshold.’

  The men start pushing through the doorway, following the spokesperson as he steps to the edge of the open door, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous girls.

  ‘Yeah…look at you…opening the door to a load of sexual deviants and dressed like a dirty slut, you’re just asking for it, begging for it…’ his hand goes to his groin as he starts rubbing himself, clearly not bothered about doing it in front of so many people. Marcy notices several of them are doing the same thing, touching themselves in full view of everyone else.

  ‘Oh,’ Marcy says, making her voice sound full of fear, she backs away, stepping into the group of girls.

  ‘All alone eh? No soldiers here you said…’ the man advances beyond the edge of the door, his breathing becoming hard and rapid with the hungry lustful look clear in his eyes.

  ‘Not quite alone,’ Marcy smiles, a brilliant grin full of white teeth, ‘we brought our brothers with us.’

  ‘Ha! Where are they then?’

  ‘Behind you,’ Marcy whispers, watching with delight as the inmates turn to see the huge monsters standing with their backs pressed against the wall behind the door. Big men, dripping with aggression, wide shoulders, thick limbs, faces showing a myriad of busted noses, scars and deformed ears, rugby players, nightclub bouncers, builders, weight lifters and every one of them staring with wide red bloodshot eyes.

  The colour drains from the man’s already pale face, his legs visibly shake as he goes to step back, his movement impeded by the line of inmates behind him.

  ‘Look at you, all dressed like that…you’re just asking for it,’ Marcy says softly, ‘begging for it…’ she pauses, feeling an intense pleasure at the fear pouring of them in buckets. She nods for effect, her undead men step forward. The inmates try to turn, barging into each other and screaming in panic.

  A melee starts instantly as the ones at the back still try to push towards the open door, sensing freedom and catching glimpses of the beautiful women. The ones at the front scrabbling to get back inside.

  The undead pile in, moving quickly as they pluck the inmates out one by one. Strong hands grabbing heads, mouths biting into the exposed flesh of their necks. The undead take their time, biting slowly and savouring the taste of the flesh and enjoying the fear of the inmates.

  Marcy takes the spokesperson, dragging him away. He fights frantically, lashing out and squealing in fright. She grips his face, leaning in and biting into his cheek. He screams, flailing at her with his hands. An undead male steps behind him, pinning his arms to his side, protecting the leader. Marcy steps back, aware of the all-out slaughter taking place but content to stay with this one man for a couple of minutes.

  ‘I’m infected with a deadly disease, all of us are…that disease just entered your blood-stream, right now it’s infecting every cell in your body…it’s going to kill you slowly with untold agony…and then you’ll turn and come back and I will be your leader…and you will suffer again,’ she speaks softly to him, watching as the fear grows in his eyes. Tears start spilling down his cheeks, his legs shaking and give out. The undead male holds him upright, keeping him standing so Marcy can watch him.

  ‘Can you feel it? Does it hurt?’

  ‘Yes,’ he gasps, feeling a sudden pain in his stomach. The feeling intensifies, spreading out to his whole body.

  ‘I want you to turn slowly…really slowly,’ Marcy says. She doesn't know if she can have any control over the speed of the infection but right now she wishes she could.

  The undead man drops him, letting him sprawl onto the floor. His breathing becomes laboured and slow, his life slowly leaving him as his body shuts down. Marcy watches, willing the agony to continue. He dies within the same time as everyone else, a sense of mild disappointment passes through her.

  She stands there waiting until he starts twitching, glancing up she notices the room is now mostly empty apart from the corpses on the floor starting to convulse. Her undead have ran into the prison, playing the best game of hide and seek ever.

  The spokesperson comes back, his twitches end as he sits up and opens his eyes, revealing the true look of the undead. He cranes his head, staring up at Marcy. She looks down at him, willing him to be able to speak, to have normal intelligence and awareness so she can kill him again. The hatred she f
elt for him still drives her action, her desire to make him suffer. She stares down, teeth gritted as she wills him to be like he was, show that trait he had so she can enjoy it. His red eyes look back at her with devotion, complete love. She could do anything to him right now and he would take it without reacting. That very thought repulses her, if she hurt him now she would the same as him, the same as he was. Making an innocent suffer for her own sadistic pleasure. Whatever he was is gone now, the turn has changed him and taken away all the bad.

  She stands back, realising that the urge to make him suffer is a human urge, a desire bred from years of living in a society that nurtured hatred and vengeance. Stepping forward she holds her hand out to him, helping him up onto his feet.

  ‘Welcome,’ she smiles, ‘what you were is gone now, you’re one of us.’ The other inmates start to rise from the floor, standing unsteady for a few seconds as they adjust to the new way of being.

  Marcy wills them to head into the prison and use their knowledge to find the others. They respond immediately, staggering through the cell door and into the block. She leans against the desk, lost in thought. The human psyche is driven by chemicals, these monsters had urges to hurt others and were considered to be so sick they were a risk to society so they were kept away. But now they’re not a risk. If the infection can control those urges they felt, when the whole of medicine and science had failed to do so, then what else could it do?

  Could they all be allowed to speak? Is there a future where all the undead hosts carried on life as normal, breeding and communicating, only taking what is needed to survive, no greed or jealousy, no will to control others. Like a nest of ants all striving towards a common aim.

  Marcy she knew she was different to Darren; she didn’t have his sick perversion, but more than that the difference between them proved there was scope to change quickly. The evolution just between them two was staggering, and the fact that she could make others communicate. Was this her doing it, or the infection inside her? Both, it must be both. The infection must understand that in order to continue to survive now that the element of surprise has gone then it must change and adapt.