by Al K. Line
The subliminal message packet she had designed had taken over a year to find and tweak, piecing together information from research in multiple countries until she found the right source, a lot of it impossible for anyone apart for a hacker of her caliber to access. There was definitely some weird shit going on out there that governments and private institutions were involved in, there was no doubt about that. But she learned enough to be confident that her botnet would deliver results. How it had got so out of hand was a mystery.
Part of her was sure it couldn't have been her fault, but all the evidence was to the contrary. The minute the zombie botnet hit armageddon was happening right in her own house, and in households, stores, parks, offices and everywhere else you could think of on the whole goddamn planet.
News reporters simply didn't know what to advise, and over the subsequent hours there were finally no news reporters. Mass media was in meltdown, things so out of control that the subliminal message was being played over the air sporadically on any televised broadcast, probably under the influence of someone already infected. Fairly soon her and Kyle were hunting around the stations to see if there was anyone at all left broadcasting. By morning there wasn't. They were on their own it seemed, at least for now.
The first shards of morning light had seen the street change. Through the night they had kept lights very low, curtains firmly shut. They didn't want any light seeping out so neither of them had dared take a peek out into the street. It was a night tense with fear, and an expectation that a rabid zombie would smash through a window at any second. The morning was different. The street looked menacing, very menacing. Mrs. Granger from across the road was outside her front door chewing on the leg of Mr.Granger. Ven knew this as his gray slipper was still on his foot, he never seemed to take them off. Three kids from number thirty-seven were all loping off slowly down the street, chasing after what could only be called a slightly more than worried man in a dressing gown she didn't recognize.
Above all, it reeked.
The smell of raw and ripped open flesh permeated the air and it got into your throat and stung the eyes. Flies were everywhere, drawn to the sweet smell of death and promise of a fresh lunch.
Ven grabbed her coat, looked at Kyle, looked at Bos Bos, looked at Tomas in his portable car seat, sighed, and said, "Let's have a drink shall we?"
Boscoe had the feeling he was not going to be taken on walkies for quite some time.
He sat down on his well padded behind, trying to hold in what by rights should have been watering the nearest lamppost by now.
###
Boscoe, a.k.a. Bos Bos as he was affectionately known to his friends, is a pretty relaxed kind of dog. He doesn't over-think situations and he certainly doesn't dwell on the past. That being said he was a little out of sorts at the moment.
Seeing your Master go slightly zombie-ish will do that to a dog. But under normal circumstances Bos Bos was a chilled out kind of animal. He spent most of his days with Ven, curled up on a rather nice sheepskin-lined dog bed that Ven had spent hours deliberating over. He loved it, who wouldn't? Nice quiet days spent sleeping and munching on the odd cheese sandwich if he was sure Ven wouldn't notice (he ate a lot of cheese sandwiches).
Then, in the evenings, he got to have a nice walk, hang out in the kitchen with Ven and Paul, and there was even a nice smelling new addition to the household of late, some squirmy pink thing that seemed to get an awful lot of attention but he didn't mind, he was chilled.
Life was good.
He felt proud on his walks, wearing his smart collar. Behaving well off the lead he knew he looked like a dog of impeccable taste — if slightly overweight from too many stolen sandwiches.
Bos Bos was a black Labrador, a breed that dated back to the 19th Century in the UK and is currently one of the most popular breeds in a number of countries. Labs are often used to aid the blind and autistic, being very well mannered and good with both young and old alike. Bos Bos was the perfect agreeable dog for Ven, who was certainly not without her quirks. Bos Bos took everything in his stride, he was always to be seen with a smile on his face, and just the fact that he was living with people was great as far as he was concerned. For the first year or so of his life all he could remember (if he really thought hard) was that he was surrounded by lots of other dogs, none of which were happy, and he had a hard time ever getting enough to eat. Plus walks were not a routine thing like they were now.
Bos Bos had actually been in a rather dilapidated dog pound, where he had been unceremoniously dumped over the fence when he was six weeks old. The owners did their best to run the place, but it was tough and money was hard to come by. Ven had rescued him one day on a total whim when she finally stopped at the pound on her way to the hairdressers.
Not the slimmest of dogs Bos Bos was what you would call 'big boned' if you were being polite, and 'a bit fat' if you weren't. But he was fast when he needed to be, like if a zombie was chasing him, and he was as loyal as any dog could be. He loved Ven more than anything, having spent five years of his life by her side for the whole day, almost every day of the year. He had also grown attached to the baby, Ven seemed to be fond of it and any friend of hers was a friend of his. The same was to be said for Kyle too, he would protect him if he could, although he did wish he would leave more sandwiches like Ven did. Kyle seemed to actually want to eat his.
Let's just say that Bos Bos is a cool dog, is loyal, and was none too happy about the new situation he found himself in. He kind of had the feeling that cheese sandwiches were going to be in short supply very soon. And that, if you knew Bos Bos, was not going to make him happy at all. Not at all.
You Can't Fucking Drive!!!
"You can't fucking drive? You have got to be kidding me Kyle?" asked Ven, not quite believing him.
"Look Ven, I haven't had time, I've been busy, you know." It was true, Kyle had been busy, but this was nothing to do with the reason for his lack of driving prowess, he just didn't really like being in cars. Most of what he needed he could get if he walked, and if not then there was always the bus — he felt safer on buses. Even if most bus drivers did like to play the specialist game of let's see how fast we can drive off after people pay for their ticket and see if they fall over.
"Jesus Kyle, now I not only have to look after a baby plus you and Bos Bos but I have to do all the bloody driving too? No way José, as soon as we get out of this insane mess you are learning to drive, okay." It wasn't a question, so Kyle didn't bother to answer.
They were finally ready to go. Car packed and baby Tomas ready to be put into the portable car seat. He was wrapped up tight and snug, only his face visible, and was the last thing to be put in the car, along with Bos Bos too.
"Let's do this thing," said Ven. So they did.
The Subaru Forester was packed tight. Boscoe took the passenger footwell with Kyle in the seat, Ven was driving, of course, and baby Tomas was in the rear. Every other available inch of space was packed with 'essentials' as far as Ven, not necessarily Kyle, was concerned. She was taking no chances.
The only thing missing was much in the way of weapons. No guns, people in the UK just didn't have them in their homes. They were all too well aware that they had a severe shortage of items that could cause death and destruction in anything less than a very hands on way. All they had was a dodgy sword, a few knives from the kitchen, plus a few other random bits and pieces.
It was not the best way to face the zombie apocalypse. The best Kyle could do was a rusty axe from the garage and various tools he had little idea what their original purpose was. If they were sharp he took them, most of them were not. Paul had never been what you would call Mr. DIY.
The large garage opened out onto the drive, just a quick sprint from the road. This was a quiet close with just a small number of rather exclusive houses, so they were both hoping that the initial exit from the garage would be fairly attack free. The car was ready to go, facing the garage door. Chassis sunk low, tires fighting to cope with
the extra weight. Ven always reversed in to make life easier, so punched the automatic door opener and with a worried look exchanged between those in the front seat the garage door opened onto their new world.
Kyle's house was only a few minutes away and through relatively quiet suburban streets. The hope was that if they just kept driving they would meet with little in the way of anything that wanted them for lunch. Hopefully they would make it there not only in one piece but without any serious encounters along the way.
Friday morning was bright and cheery. The sun was shining for the second day in a row, which was disconcerting in its own right. The front lawn was luminous green, the lines in the lawn neat and well watered from the rain that fell through the night. Humidity was high and there seemed to be a kind of background buzz in the air, although it was hard to tell over the quiet running of the Subaru and the rumble of the often oiled (by Ven) motor and runners responsible for opening the garage door.
Peace lasted for five seconds, just about the time it took for the door to open enough for them to begin to squeeze out into the mockery of suburban bliss and clear blue sky.
"What the hell was that?" shouted Kyle, as they heard a thump on the roof of the car.
Zombies already? We aren't even out of the drive!
"Shit, I hit the garage door," Ven exclaimed. She had done it a number of times before. Each time it had cost her a fortune in repairs. Kyle looked relieved but Ven was angry at herself for risking them all so quickly. If they got stuck in the car without moving events would not go well for any of them.
They screeched their way out from the garage, turned right onto the road and headed away from the place Ven used to call home. It was impossible not to look around at the devastation surrounding them on all sides. Swarms of flies were everywhere, buzzing around pieces of raw flesh and the remains of the uninfected, making the air thick as if dark clouds had come down from the heavens to obscure their way. The thin veil of suburbia was lifted to reveal the nightmare world Ven had created. The perfectly manicured lawns and twee suburban homes, like a homage to the Stepford Wives, was in stark contrast to the scenes of carnage and destruction that dirtied the pristine tarmac drives of the well-to-do.
Navigating was like some kind of nightmarish off-road journey. Every few yards the power shuffled between front and rear wheels, shock absorbers hissing pneumatically; trying to make the ride as smooth as possible while driving over flesh and bone. Ven knew that she couldn't even begin to avoid it all so didn't even try. If it was on the ground in their way she went straight over, trying not to retch as she did so.
She drove as if squashing the half eaten remains could eliminate the burden of responsibility. Only if there were upright living dead in her way did she swerve to avoid them. Getting something caught in the car was her worst fear, grinding to a halt was going to mean the end of them all. The zombies didn't seem like Paul after he was first infected, these were all very slow, just reaching out for the car without any real focus or speed. Many were just laying around with obscenely distended bellies. Not even a glance at the vehicle passing them which contained fresh food.
Kyle was looking decidedly queasy, "Jesus Ven, do you have to drive over the bloody people, and the... bits?" he asked. "It's totally gross."
"What else can I do? I can't bloody go around them all, and I want to get away from this nightmare as soon as possible," she replied angrily. "Where else can I go, I can't avoid it all and I just want to get Tomas safe."
Little Tomas was starting to be aware that this was not the normal kind of trip he went on, it was a lot bumpier and a lot less relaxing. Even Bos Bos realized that this was not going to be a fun day out. He kept his head down and tried to avoid any 'accidents' because of all the bumping about he was experiencing.
Past Ven's street the detritus of destruction eased off a little, the next grouping of homes was a little less of a nightmare, although there were still scenes that would be burned into their retinas for all time. The second street mainly consisted of zombies in some sort of a comatose state, hardly moving at all, or simply lying on the ground, fat with flesh just deceased. Thankfully the numbers were fewer and most obscenities had obviously been carried out behind closed doors.
A minute away it was a different matter. From what they could understand, dead meat, or meat that had begun to cool, was of little to no interest for the living dead. It had to be fresh, and it had to be close to having a beating heart. This meant that the scene that confronted them next was like a slam to the heart with a sledgehammer.
Just around the corner from the relatively serene zombies in the last few streets — satisfied with their meals so far — was a group of very active, and very hungry, zombies running down a man that had obviously just woken up and come outside to try to understand what was going on. Trying to maybe see if a neighbor could get a reception on the radio or the TV. Still in his blue and white striped pajamas, he was running barefoot down the middle of the road, as if following the intermittent white lines in the center could lead him to salvation.
His feet were bloody, torn to tatters from the littered surface. Terror on his face, not understanding how the morning could be so deranged. Three zombies were just steps behind. He went down, and a feeding frenzy began that made Ven and Kyle sick to their very core. Dieing is one thing, being aware of your flesh being devoured as you exit the world is another thing entirely. Ven and Kyle thought they knew what they were going to be facing, but they were out of their depths emotionally. Unable to cope and unable to do anything to help. A very real sense of self preservation also was at the fore of both of their minds. Stop to help and the outcome was more than likely going to be terminal for them all. There was just no way that they were going to risk their own lives, or more importantly the life of the innocent one strapped into the back seat mumbling away to himself — lost in a virtuous world the adults no longer inhabited.
"Ven, they are actually eating that man!" Kyle screamed, verging on hysteria.
"I know, I can see it, I can see it," she replied, swerving to avoid the unfortunate and the growing number of disconnected gobbets of the poor man, all being fought over by the small group of ravenous undead.
"Look, we can't help him and we can't stop. If we do then you're dead, I'm dead, Boscoe is dead and they will eat my precious baby, I am not fucking stopping." Ven glanced in the rear-view mirror, the man was buried underneath swollen-faced undead, their heads bobbing up and down, swatting at each other to get the tastiest morsels of the man still available to consume.
This is what they had agreed on, absolutely no trying to help if it meant risking their lives and the future of the little child oblivious to it all in the rear of the car. The responsibility was too great, and the risk too high to assume they would come out on top of any confrontation with the maniacal zombies overtaking everything they held dear.
Saying and doing are not the same thing however. Most people can't even keep a New Year's resolution for more than a day or two, and when confronted with someone being attacked and consumed by the undead you do really want to try to help.
They sunk into a fog of silence, both becoming well aware of the selfishness they had agreed to, but knowing at the same time the very strong sense of self preservation they had too. Guilt combined with a feeling of helplessness mixed into emotions that were impossible to really decipher, it all being unlike anything experienced in the past. But leave people to die they did. Ven found it hard to drive, the overwhelming sense of shame at abandoning people, never mind having caused it all in the first place seeping into her. Sending her into an almost fugue-like state she could get lost in forever if she was not careful. But she was strong, and her sense of self preservation was large, the love for her child, and yes for Bos Bos and Kyle kept her going. Experiencing so many emotions was overwhelming Ven, so it was hard for her to cope with all these new feelings.
Just a five minute drive to Kyle's only ever home left them drenched in a clammy sweat. Brought o
n by the humidity in the car, the fear seeping through their pores, and the massive cocktail of chemicals released by their bodies. It left them exhausted and in a pathetic state.
Our bodies can send hormones surging through us at an incredible rate for self preservation, the fight or flight response is strong. But it has its consequences. Soldiers are trained to dial it down and to act according to situations without their bodies overwhelming them — for computer geeks, well insulated from the ravages the world can throw at you, the whole experience had sent their bodies into meltdown. They were not equipped physically, mentally, or emotionally for any of it, and it showed.
Both arrived at the house feeling like wrecks. The sight outside the front of the red brick Victorian building was the last thing they wanted to find. It was so sad it almost broke their hearts.
A young girl, she couldn't have been older than ten, was sat on the grass verge, lolling against a rather pathetic looking tree, headphones on, smartphone in hand, small dog in her lap. She clutched the device even though she was no longer living, old habits were hard to break it seemed. Hunger had obviously taken over — the pink glistening of the dogs innards were plain to see.
Something was not quite right though, she just didn't have the same degree of swelling on the face they had seen on others, and although obviously now one of the infected there did seem to be some kind of rudimentary intelligence behind the eyes. It just made it worse.
Staring at the girl she suddenly seemed to come out of her reverie, foregoing her meal for a second. Lifting her head from the pink tenderness she had been buried in she raised her small gore stained hand, lifted her phone, and they heard a soft 'snick'.
"This is fucked up Ven, this is really fucked up. Look at her, she is dead right?"
"She's dead alright, you can tell, but she doesn't look like the others, she kind of looks intelligent, at least to some degree." And that meant that there could be more like her. Which sent a shudder through the pair of them simultaneously.