The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  Next to the underscored Prion he writes Virus and underscores that too, then links them together with a single line with arrow heads at both ends.

  Hmmm, it says here that Smallpox, Measles, Rubella, Ebola and the Flu are all types of Pathogens and they are definitely viruses. So yes, the zombie virus is a Virus. Whether or not it has a Prion on its back is another matter.

  So if the Virus is mutated by the Prion, when it gets into the host body the Prion converts all the other cells into replicas of the Virus cells.

  The mental image the Doc had of spending hours pottering about a sterilised and brightly lit laboratory, mixing stuff in test tubes and looking at slides under micro-scopes, was rapidly disappearing. For a start, he didn’t have a laboratory yet. His men were too busy gathering supplies and finding children.

  Also, he didn’t know what to put in the test-tubes or under the micro-scopes. The movies always showed some wriggly things within the blood, and then worked out a way to kill the wriggly things and become the saviour of the human race.

  He didn’t even have any test subjects as there was nowhere to hold them yet.

  He looks up sharply at the knocking on his door. Blinking, he rubs his eyes once more.

  ‘Come in.’

  ‘Doc,’ Larson nods once as he walks in. Closing the door behind him, he crosses the room and sits in the chair Billy used.

  ‘Everything okay?’ The Doc asks.

  ‘Fine,’ Larson replies, ‘except for you killing Vince that is,’ he adds in a mild tone.

  ‘Hmmm,’ the Doc nods seriously, ‘yes, I did go a bit far.’

  ‘Again,’ Larson adds quietly, ‘that’s the third time in as many days.’

  ‘I was angry,’ the Doc shrugs like it’s no big deal, ‘Billy told me what they did and…’

  ‘And what did Billy say?’ Larson asks folding crossing his legs to listen intently.

  ‘He said the two men raped the girls and killed their fathers.’

  ‘Right,’ Larson lifts his eyebrows as if waiting for more.

  ‘That’s it,’ the Doc says.

  ‘So you killed him because they did what you said? I didn’t get a chance to speak to Vince or ask him any questions so I’ve got no new intelligence from the sector you gave them. I’ve no idea of where that boy came from, we don’t know where Gordon is…’

  ‘Gordon?’ The Doc asks.

  ‘Gordon, the other man that went out with Vince…’

  ‘Was that his name?’ The Doc realises Gordon must have been the one Billy said was wrestling with his sister after pulling her pants down. He chuckles at the innocent way children explain some things.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Larson asks.

  ‘Nothing, just something Billy said.’

  ‘What did Billy say?’

  ‘Ha, he said he saw the men wrestling with his sister only she had her pants down while they were wrestling.’

  ‘Right, and you find that funny?’

  ‘Just the way he said, you had to be there…anyway so.’

  ‘Doc, we need you,’ Larson says with a sudden intensity, ‘we need your expertise and your medical knowledge. You’ve got us this far, living in a nice, big house with loads of food and the idea of assigning sectors for the men to scavenge was brilliant, but you’ve got to stop killing them… Hang on Doc, I’m not criticising you and I know you get angry sometimes and that’s fine but if you keep doing it they’ll bugger off and leave us. They’re already terrified of you, it won’t be long before one goes out on duty and decides just not to come back. Then they’ll all do it. You need them.’

  ‘Okay,’ the Doc sighs theatrically.

  ‘They’re just doing what you told them to. You said, Go out to your sectors, go house to house and get the food. If you see any children bring them back. Anything else is down to you. You said that Doc…’

  ‘Yes yes I know I did,’ the Doc sighs.

  ‘So what was it this time?’ Larson shakes his head and asks quietly.

  ‘Billy was upset by what he saw them do,’ the Doc explains, ‘I saw Billy upset and it upset me. So I went to talk with Vince and he…well…he just set me off…’

  ‘Set you off? How did he set you off?’

  ‘Well,’ the Doc looks away, ‘his manner, his demeanour, the way he…he…sneered and looked.’

  ‘Vince wouldn’t sneer at you,’ Larson says with a patient tone, ‘he was shit scared.’

  ‘Well, it’s done now.’

  ‘Please Doc, I’m asking nicely.’

  ‘Yes fine, I understand…no more killing men, yes I’ve got it.’

  ‘You’re a big man Doc and you don’t know your own strength.’

  ‘Larson, I’ve said sorry so can we drop it now?’

  ‘Okay,’ Larson relents, ‘but if they all run off don’t go blaming me. You might let the lads have a few beers tonight? To take their mind of things.’

  ‘Hmmmm, ok. Just a few though. I mean it Larson, I don’t want my children getting woken up by drunken carousing into the early hours.’

  ‘How was Billy anyway?’

  ‘Fine, all checked and all clear.’

  ‘And you’re still checking them every couple of days?’

  ‘Of course, we have to be vigilant.

  ‘What about the men? They’re going out into the world, shouldn’t they be checked too?’

  ‘I’ve told you what to look for so you do it,’ the Doc snaps, ‘I’ve got enough work to do without getting every man in here, dropping his pants to moon at me.’

  Fine for the kids to do it though, Larson muses but stays quiet.

  ‘Speaking of which, any progress?’ Larson asks nodding at the desk.

  ‘Well yes actually,’ the Doc’s features light up at his chance to showboat, ‘I have established the zombie virus is a Pathogen, and in particular a Prion attached to a Virus that has mutated into the infection as we know it. Similar to CJD, you remember that outbreak? The papers crassly called it Mad Cow Disease.’

  ‘Oh yeah I remember,’ Larson nods.

  ‘CJD was a Prion, which is a form of pathogen that enters the host body and acts as a template, tricking the cell structure to mutate and become like the infected cell. Now, CJD was a Prion, but in this case I am confident that we have a Virus together with a Prion. You know, a Virus like Smallpox or Ebola which are both communicable diseases. The Virus transfers to new hosts and the Prion mutates the existing cells to convert them into the…er…the zombie cells,’ the Doc speaks quickly and he knows he sounds confident, these new words are brilliant. Larson will go back and tell the others the Doc was talking about Prions and Cells and everyone will know how intelligent he is.

  ‘Good work,’ Larson nods appreciatively, ‘what next then?’

  ‘Good lord Larson, this takes time and study,’ the Doc sighs, ‘I need time to er…study the virus and establish just how it works.

  ‘Then you can find the cure right?’

  ‘Or a vaccine yes, but that takes time and if I have so many other things to do I can’t…’

  ‘Got it,’ Larson sighs, ‘we’ll leave you alone. Listen why don’t I do the kids then for now so you can just focus on your studies?’

  ‘No,’ the Doc replies quickly, ‘the children should be checked by a health care professional. When I do establish the vaccine they will be the first to have it so I need to make sure they are fit and healthy.’

  ‘Fine, right I’ll leave you to it then. By the way, John and Terry never came back either.’

  ‘Losses have to be expected Larson,’ the Doc pushes his glasses up his long nose.

  ‘Just letting you know,’ Larson adds before letting himself out.

  The power dynamic between the two men was a strange, lilting beast of varying proportions. If anyone else spoke to either man the way they spoke to each other, there would be severe and violent consequences.

  It was the Doc’s idea to locate a place such as this and it was Larson that found it. The actual takin
g of the premises was a joint enterprise as the occupants were killed and the bodies removed for burning.

  Once the premises had been secured, it was then a matter of finding resources. The two men ferreted out survivors of a type and manner who were willing to overlook certain behavioural issues in return for safety and food.

  As with the fort and Maddox within his compound, as with many secure locations established by survivors across the world, Chapsworth House evolved every day. The more men they got, the wider the scavenging took place, the more food was brought back, the more weapons sourced, the more guards they had and of course; more children.

  Larson knew why the Doc was so keen to have children in the house. Regardless of the explanations that they were the innocent casualties of this modern day plague, that they were innocents to be protected so that when the vaccine or cure was found they could be the first to receive it, Larson saw the change in the Doc’s eyes when he talked about children. He could sense the excitement and hunger within the man.

  Larson was a survivor and he would survive come hell or high water. He would prevail at any cost and the only real allegiance he had was to himself. For now, it suited his purpose to be with the Doc. Agreeing with the Doc, and not questioning his motives, meant he was kept happily in a bubble of pretence that everything was how he wanted.

  The Doc for his part recognised a fellow psychotic when he saw one. Larson might speak with an air of calmness and sound full of common sense and judgement, but the Doc had seen first-hand just how violent the man could be.

  Larson didn’t ask why he wanted children here and the only time he did raise an objection was when the Doc’s actions threatened the stability of what they had built, like his frequent temper tantrums as the Doc called them. The same temper tantrums that had now seen several men being killed.

  The Doc knew only too well what this new world meant. It meant anyone could be anything they wanted. Larson could have been a policeman, a soldier or even a priest two weeks ago. It didn’t matter what you were, it matters what you are now.

  So he became The Doc. He had attended medical school but his deviant interest in children had soon been noticed and he was quietly removed. That was a long time ago when people didn’t make a big fuss about it. Things like that weren’t discussed in the open; they were dealt with quietly to avoid any embarrassment.

  The Doc had joined other medical schools but the world of medicine was a small one and it never took long for him to be found out. Being six foot six made you stand out from the crowd and get noticed.

  Before computerised record keeping and due to the lack of communication between agencies, the Doc was able to slip into various health care roles. He became a nurse and worked alongside charity organisations, but each time his odd manner was quickly identified and he was removed.

  Years went by and slowly he convinced himself that his knowledge and abilities were far beyond what they were. The fact he had attended medical school, albeit for a very short time, served to perpetuate the ideology that he was medically trained.

  Certainly field medicine, triage and the basic treatment of wounds and injuries were easy to understand, and with his manner of professional elocution he often passed for being far more trained and skilled than he really was.

  While millions died during those first terrible few days of the outbreak, the Doc realised he could now be a Doctor. He was a doctor and he tended to injured, sick and wounded people with the perceived professionalism of a real doctor. His physical size gave him presence. His deep voice gave him a serious countenance. His blue-grey eyes held people transfixed and his explosions of utter fury brought those around him a propensity to walk on eggshells.

  The anger hadn’t always been there. He liked to think he was naturally a calm, intelligent, cultured and refined man but the expelling from medical school and the following years of being labelled a paedophile, a child molester, a freak deviant, had slowly brought that anger to the front. In the old world he couldn’t do anything about it and was constantly biting his tongue and suppressing his violent tendencies.

  He didn’t have to do that now. So he didn’t. He could be anything he wants to be, so he is a doctor and he can get angry when he wants and after so much death, the action of taking life is effectively meaningless.

  Our worlds define us. The things we do, the places we go, the people we meet and our experiences all contribute to who we become. The Doc, to a certain extent, was a result of his own life experiences, all apart from the fascination with children. That had always been there; in fact it had been a part of him for so long he no longer questioned it.

  To face your own demons and flaws conflicts with any self-image of being a good person. Often those flaws are ignored and buried deep. He wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t a sick paedophile. Those were labels for other people, not him. He was normal, he just loved children. His self-justification was so strong, he no longer believed there was anything wrong with him.

  Re-reading the section on Prions, he notices the frequent mention of proteins and starts thinking of the brightly coloured tubs of whey protein with the pictures of body builders on the front. The internal image blends into him standing in a brightly lit, sterilised lab staring at wriggly things through a microscope, and using a syringe to inject whey protein into petri dishes.

  Thirty Nine

  ‘Now you look a darn sight better you do,’ Meryl grins at Billy exiting the bathroom scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes. He was uncomfortable being naked in front of the big Doctor man but when Meryl told him to strip off it didn’t feel so bad. For a start she didn’t stare at him. She tutted and huffed at the grime on his skin and at the state of his hair, before going away and coming back with clothes.

  Chattering away in a constant stream of one-sided conversation, she set about scrubbing him from head to toe. She gives him a towel to dry off with, before telling him to get dressed and come out when he’s finished.

  This was only time since being taken that he felt even the slightest bit comfortable. The nagging fear was still there, that awful tight ball in his stomach that made his mouth dry and his hands and legs tremble. But with Meryl there, the fear was a bit less.

  Smiling sheepishly, he stands still like an automaton waiting for further instruction, lost in the vastness of the large kitchen.

  Cases of tinned food stacked on the floor and through an open door to the pantry Billy can see more foodstuffs jammed onto every shelf.

  ‘Come on, sit yourself down,’ Meryl instructs kindly, beckoning Billy to a large wooden table with a chair pulled out waiting for him. ‘That’s it, get yourself comfortable. Now drink this first, god knows how long you been out there in the heat, so you have this first.’ Placing a large glass of water in front of him she waits expectantly until he picks it up to take the first sip. ‘Get it down Billy,’ she says as she bustles off, clanging about with a constant stream of chatter.

  ‘Well so we got another mouth to feed have we? Oh yes, more mouths to feed means more work for Meryl but I don’t mind,’ she says throwing a big grin at him. Billy watches the woman moving about. The way everything clangs and bangs is re-assuring, reminding him of his own mother. There is something about the way Meryl dominates the space and moves naturally, like it’s her environment which has been designed especially for her.

  Big windows at the back of the room let the beautiful, warm light into the kitchen, and the view of sculpted grounds with large, flat lawns leading to rolling pasture land in the distance is peaceful.

  ‘You see the river?’ Meryl moves to join him looking out the window, ‘all sparkly and inviting isn’t it,’ she adds before moving off quickly back into her domain.

  Billy takes it in, soaking up the wide expanse of water glittering from the suns reflection. It does look inviting.

  ‘You’ll be down there later no doubt,’ Meryl interrupts his thoughts, ‘having a swim and splashing about. The Doc he likes his children to get outside and have fresh air he does
, says it’s good for you and better than all thems computer games you play these days, well I say these days but these days there ain’t no computer games is there? Gone back to the old ways already haven’t we Billy? Healthy food and lots of fresh air eh?’ Well I say healthy food but all we got is tinned food at the moment but plenty of it so no one will be going hungry just yet. We can get some crops planted so’s we got plenty for next year too, the Doc and Larson got it all figured out they have.’

  Switching to an internal monologue she realises the situation they’re all in. Vince wasn’t a bad fella, just easily led and too willing to let others do as they wished. Didn’t deserve that though, the Doctor is such a nice man most of the time, apart from what she hears he does with the kids and them temper tantrums he has, well that’s what he calls them anyway. More like blind rage if you ask Meryl.

  Strange though, not a mark on any of the kids. She washes them regular like, being so young and daft half of ‘em don’t know how to wash properly, so she supervises often and it gives her a chance to give them the once over. No bruises or marks anywhere. So whatever the Doc is doing with ‘em is gentle enough. God almighty! If she knew two weeks ago that some filthy pervert was doing something bad to kiddies she’d be straight on the phone to the police but there ain’t no police now. Just what they got here and these kids are being well fed and got a safe bed at night. They ain't being physically harmed from what she can see and those things don’t know they’re here either. Hell, she hasn’t seen any of the walking zombie lot since she got here. There are plenty of tough men with guns to protect them all so she keeps working. She feeds, cleans and deals with any number of issues within the house and the rest just has to be ignored ‘cause there ain’t anything she could do about it anyway.