by Dwyer, James
What concerned me most was the closest Daisy’s lack of movement. There was no way it couldn’t see me moving, its eyes were staring directly at me. The draft in the jeep meant that it could also smell me, if that was how they worked. There was no way of telling how the damned thing worked. I was no biologist, never watched any nature documentaries. Who knew what motivated these things? I certainly didn’t. All I understood was the hunger. That’s what scared me most. If this Daisy was still alive, it was waiting. Playing the long game. This was not the desperate crazed monster that I had seen before. This was something new.
This new dimension frightened me even more. It was as if the disease was evolving. Adapting to the environment, putting the Daisies into hibernation until some fresh meat came close enough to strike. The hunger wasn’t just this crazed desperation to feed. It was a living organism, using dead people to help it hunt. They weren’t just zombies. They were puppets, tools, a means to a gruesome end. I didn’t think there could be a fate worse than death. Now I knew different.
Sick of these disturbing thoughts, I resolved to get some more sleep. I checked the doors were locked and secure, that there were no breaches in the cabin, no access points for wandering, clawing hands. I was safe inside my little cocoon, a life raft secure in a sea of death.
I pulled the hood of my coat up over my head and tried to get comfortable. A few more hours sleep and then I would make a run for it. Two fates waited for me outside this jeep. I would make it to the Olympus Tower, reach the airlift and be transported out of the infected zone. Or I would die and become one of the undead. Vegas or bust. I would need all the rest I could get.
Just when the sleep was finally taking hold, I saw the Daisy’s eyes twitch. It was watching. Waiting. It would wait forever. No matter how long it took, it would find a way to feed the hunger.
✖
I was woken violently from my sleep by the sound of gunfire. Frequent, rapid bursts of fire that indicated panic and chaos. Instinctively, I ducked down in the driver’s seat, groping for the service pistol that I thought I had left within grasping distance.
More gunfire.
My fingers brushed the weapon, reaching out and taking a firm hold. With the gun in my hand I felt safe enough to put my head up to the window and take a look around me.
It was morning, I could tell by the shade of blue in the daylight. The gunshots were coming from towards the Olympus Tower. The team from Camp Churchill were making their move and it was not going well. The airlift must be coming soon.
I looked up towards where the frozen undead had been just a few hours earlier. The Daisy was gone, moved onto another target.
“Those poor bastards,” I said aloud.
I was expecting my grandfather to return, to say something about how he was right all along. Nothing. Was I finally rid of him? I hoped so.
Then it dawned on me. Their arrival was the opportunity I had been waiting for. If the Daisies were attacking them, it left me with a clear path to the tower. To the airlift. To escape.
I didn’t stop to consider any other options. This was the only plan left, other than sitting around waiting to die. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I grabbed my backpack and prepared myself. I focused on the tower ahead of me, trying to shut away the lingering fears of undead that were probably waiting just out of sight, visualising my path to escape. I thought of the long road to the building, weaving my way through the abandoned cars and barricades that blocked my route. Then I saw the glass doors into the lobby, my feet echoing off the hard floor as I made my way to the stairs up to the top level. Climbing quickly, not feeling tired, I soon reached the helipad, the helicopter landing just as I arrived. I saw myself climbing aboard, the door shutting and then lift off, rising up into the sky and leaving this all behind. Then I would find a place for myself in the safe zone. Where I would be cared for. Loved. Despite the blindness. Soon I would be…
A sharp pain in my skull, like needles pushing through my retinas into my eyeballs. Black holes burst into my vision, tearing apart the uneasy peace of my morning surroundings. I pressed against my eyes with the palm of my hands, trying to force them back into normality. It was no use, the black holes were growing, the world around them losing focus, everything distorted.
“Why now?” I screamed, “Why wait until now!”
I slammed the car door open, no longer caring about the sound attracting undead. I was sick of waiting for it all to be over. No more wondering when I would turn blind.
I stepped out of the jeep and onto the hard concrete road. The morning air held a bitter chill, another obstacle for me to overcome. I wrapped my coat tightly round me and pressed on. Of all the tests I had faced, this was the final exam. I had been preparing for all my life. One way or another, everything would end today.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The road to the Olympus Tower was one long corridor, lined on either side by office buildings and apartment blocks. Only an occasional service road or side street broke the channel I was being forced down. There was only one option. Forward.
Walking quickly, I visualized my route to the building one more. Even though I could see it ahead of me, I had to see everything and I couldn’t rely on my eyes to show me the way. I saw the talk skyscraper looming above, empty offices facing me as I approached, the tint to the glass as it reflected the morning sunlight. All imagined, but all allowing me to focus. The image became clearer and my eyesight began to return. For how long, I couldn’t know. No more time to waste.
I started to run, taking it ease not to exhaust myself too soon. My footsteps echoed around the empty streets, bouncing off walls and alleyways. The gunfire ahead of me had stopped. Was that good or bad?
The concrete beneath my feet began to crunch and squelch as the road changed into something else. I looked down and saw that I was running on the white Daisy fur. Everywhere was covered in the stuff, the road leading to the Olympus tower submerged by what looked like fresh snowfall.
How many Daisies were there around he-
I stopped the thought dead, its very presence making my head hurt even more. I had to focus.
Glass doors, probably revolving. Waiting to let me inside the tower.
I ran across the horrible snow, feet squelching with every step. The feeling was horribly lifelike. Just more evidence that the undead weren’t dead at all. Just changed for the hunger’s nefarious plans.
Focus.
The Olympus Tower kept rising up ahead of me, looming ever larger on the horizon. I thought it would never stop rising, not until it reached up and pierced through the sky, right into heaven. Paradise waiting a few hundred feet above.
I could see the entrance ahead of me now. The doors I had imagined becoming a reality, except for the glass. They had all been shattered, violently forced open. The armoured 4x4 from Camp Churchill was parked outside. The doors were left open, they had left in a hurry. If they were here, then so were the Daisies. Why hadn’t I seen any yet?
Stop speculating. Think of the lobby, the marbled floor, stairwell leading up towards...
I climbed the stairs up to the main entrance, drawing my service pistol, preparing myself. As I reached the broken doors more gunfire rang out, this time directly above me. Moments later a rainfall of broken glass slashed the pavement where I had been seconds earlier. The battle was taking place directly above. They were almost at the extraction point, fighting to get to the top of the tower. My time was running out. I climbed through the broken doors and into the lobby.
I had walked into the aftermath of a fierce battle. Dead zombies scattered across the foyer, a combination of Moaners and a few Daisies. Several fresh corpses sat uneasily with their undead brethren. I recognised what was left of them as being from Camp Churchill. Each had a fresh bullet hole in the centre of the forehead. The only way to ensure they would rest in peace.
The fallen zombies were already mutating, the white fur sprouting from their bodies, fired into life by my presence. N
othing could make me move quicker.
I headed for the stairwell and removed the pistol. Three bullets left. Three bullets to get me to the helipad and safety.
I took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to waste another moment. The building had eighty floors, a not so helpful notice had warned me. The climb was arduous; the stairs covered in discarded papers, white undead fur and dried blood. Signs of carnage past.
I had just reached the thirtieth floor when I heard a pair of shrieks from above. Two Daisies stared down at me over the bannisters. I had hoped the battle above would have distracted all the undead. No such luck.
The first zombie climbed up onto the railings edge and leapt down towards me. It missed, hitting the side of the staircase with a loud bony thwack. It shrieked as it bounced down the centre of the stairwell, hitting more edges as it fell. I watched it hit the ground floor with a loud bony splat. To my disgust, the Daisy was still moving. Broken and battered, but still a slave to the hunger.
It had began crawling up the stairs when I remembered the other Daisy. Like the first, it climbed up onto the bannister. Somehow I knew that it would not miss this time. Something about the look in its eyes told me as much. It had seen what happened to its kin. It would not make the same mistake.
I gripped the pistol firmly in my hand and waited. The Daisy lifted itself up and sprung down towards me.
It cleared the edge of the staircase easily, landing a few steps above me. I only had a second to react; the damned thing was already steadying itself to attack me.
I ran forward and placed the barrel of the pistol directly against the creature’s temple. The gunshot destroyed the Daisy’s head, exploding into a mess of red and white that coated the stairwell walls like abstract graffiti.
Recovering from the loud bang of the pistol, I continued upward, the crippled Daisy shrieking below.
The staircase seemed to get steeper the higher I climbed. My legs ached painfully, knees sore, calves burning. The sound of gunfire had stopped. The battle was over, one way or another.
I pushed onward, hitting the pain barrier and forcing my way through to the other side. As I continued my ascent, I saw the path ahead was blocked. Desks and chairs formed an impassable barricade across the landing above. I tried to pull at one of the obstacles, see if I could find a way through. No use, the barricade would not budge.
I returned to the previous landing. Floor forty-seven. I opened the double doors and saw offices ahead of me, hundreds of empty cubicles sitting eerily quiet. I could also hear frantic, desperate shrieks. Daisies.
I ducked down and moved forward, hoping against hope that my path to the staircase on the other side of the floor would not be obstructed.
Making my way through the office, I was forced to step across more bodies. I tried to ignore the carnage around me. One image forced me to stop. A dead survivor lay underneath two fallen Daisies, killed in violent battle. The undead had not died hungry. Chunks of flesh torn from the survivor still caught in their blood stained jaws. It seemed like this image would be frozen forever, destined to be found as fossilised remains by some future civilisation.
I ignored my horrified disgust and continued on. When I reached the far side of the office I paused, taking a moment to recover. It felt like I was reaching the limit of horrible things I could see and remain unaffected. My desperation intensified. The ticking clock that counted down the time I had left to reach safety quickened. I knew now that if I missed the airlift, my sanity would not hold.
I walked up to the doors and opened them slightly, just enough to see what the next obstacle would be. The corridor was darkened but clear. I could see the faint green glow of the fire escape sign at the far end, pointing to the staircase up to the airlift. Escape was close.
I opened the door as quietly as possible and stepped inside. Being on the other side of the doors had dulled the impact of the Daisies shrieking. Once inside, I had no such respite.
The Daisies screamed and banged, trying to force their way inside some unseen place. The corridor ahead of me had a T-junction. I could tell from the shrieks that The Daisies were off to the side.
Creeping up to the junction, I held the gun tightly and prepared myself. I willed my legs to stop hurting, warning them that they would be needed soon. It did little to dull the pain. I would have to rely on the adrenaline. It seemed I had used so much these past few days; I wasn’t sure how much I had left.
One last push.
I stepped into the junction and was about to dash across when I saw why the Daisies were going so crazy.
Somehow, they had cornered the team from Camp Churchill inside one of the offices. I couldn’t count all the Daisies that swarmed outside, so many of them fighting to get inside, clawing at each other to make their way through. The hunger in all its horrific glory.
I immediately ducked inside the nearest office, the sight of the Daisies sapping all the fight out of my body. My head was swimming; my legs went limp beneath me. How could I outrun that screaming horde?
I sat down against the wall, closing the door behind me, sealing myself inside. The noise of the Daisies would not subside, each scream reaching through inside my head, pulling and destroying what was left of my nerve. I told myself over and over that this is what they do, this is why they scream. It didn’t work, the primal fear overruled the logical part of my brain.
“Just run,” said my grandfather’s voice, “You’re so close.”
I looked through the window in the door, across to the stairwell that was so tantalisingly close.
It wouldn’t take much for me to get through and run.
A strange feeling, like déjà vu, came over me. Before I could think of the reason why, my head was suddenly hit with an intense burning pain that started at the back of my brain and flowed into my retinas. Black holes burst through my vision, devouring the scenery around me.
“No!” I screamed, clawing at my eyes.
Why had they failed me now? When I was so close?
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I heard a low thudding rumble getting closer and closer.
Propeller blades. The helicopter was arriving.
With what was left of my vision, I looked out of the office window and saw the helicopter approaching.
Time was running out.
I reached into my backpack and took out the radio. If I could let them know what was going on, they could send someone to help, or wait for me. I just needed a little time to recover. They wouldn’t leave me now.
Flicking the radio on, I was immediately bombarded with urgent static distorted messages from the other survivors.
“Repeat, we are trapped on the forty seventh floor and cannot get out. Send a retrieval team to help us get out.”
“Negative,” said a voice I assumed to be the pilot, “If you’re not ready for airlift, I can’t wait for you.”
“Please,” said the trapped survivors, “If you leave us we’ll die.”
“I can’t wait for you,” said the pilot, clearly distressed.
I looked out to the Daisies blocking the survivors in, the door between the undead and the living becoming weaker and weaker underneath their unending attack. There was no chance of them getting out.
I pressed the radio and began talking. “Airlift, there is one survivor ready for pickup. Plea-“
More pain cut me off mid sentence. It felt like my eyes were melting, becoming pustules that would burst and drip down my face.
“Who is this?” said the other survivor on the radio, “Where are you? Can you help us?”
“No,” I yelled, struggling against the pain.
“Please,” said the other survivor, “Do something to get us out of here.”
The radio buzzed to the pilot. “Look. You have ten minutes. I can’t wait any longer than that…I’m sorry.”
The pain subsided, a brief moment of calm before it would return. I looked at the Daisies crowding round the door, and the stairwell close to me
.
Escape would be so easy. Survival of the fittest. That’s what it was. They had got themselves trapped. Not me. Why was it my responsibility to save them?
What was I thinking? These weren’t my thoughts. These were my grandfather’s. The realization made me sick. Were all my dreams of survival some genetic memory from the old bastard’s indoctrination?
I had to be better than him. Different. I thought of the dream, the three chairs with my grandfather and father waiting for me. I had always focused on my grandfather, how happy he was that I was joining them. But it was my father I should have been looking at. The sad resignation that he fell into his own father’s trap. He wasn’t there to save me; he had been taken by the misery and despair of his own blindness. That was not what he wanted for me. He had always tried to tell me that I was better than him, better than grandfather. I had ignored him; let the old man drown him out with vile rhetoric.
Not any more. I stopped cowering on the floor and stood up, lifting the radio up to my mouth. For the first time I didn’t wonder what my grandfather would do. I wondered what Libby would do.
“Get ready to run,” I said into the radio, “I’ll distract the zombies, you just get out of there.”
“What about you?” said the survivor, “What will you do?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, “Just get yourself to safety. Don’t let my distraction go to waste.”
I took my pistol and prepared myself. As I stood there ready to get into action, my eyesight returned to normal. As if nothing had ever happened. It became clear to me then. The blindness wasn’t genetic. It was psychological. A choice.
At the very end of it all, I could finally see things clearly.
I opened the door and ran towards the Daisies. I fired at the nearest zombie, my shot true, its head snapping back violently as the bullet hit its mark.
The Daisies turned towards me as one. The hunger guiding them towards the easy target. I screamed in rage and frustration, venting all my anger in one last outburst. “Come and get me you fucking dead bastards.”