Demise of the Living

by Iain McKinnon

  He wrapped his gloved hand around Colin’s and let the man help him to his feet.

  The glove felt sticky. Colin looked down to see the pinch marks and vitriol fluid left from the zombies’ bites running from the gloves up the sleeve of the biker’s jacket. On his feet now, the man was a good five or six inches taller than Colin. Colin hoped this was exaggerated by the rugged pair of biker boots the man wore.

  “I’m Colin. This is John.”

  The man was still breathing heavily and timed his response to the heaving of his chest.

  “Billy,” he puffed out.

  The short stocky dog was yapping happily round Billy’s feet.

  “And his name?” Colin asked.

  “She’s called Blow,” Billy replied. He waggled a finger in the direction of the street. “It’s fucking intense out there.”

  The stairwell door opened and Sharon came into the lobby.

  “Everything okay down here?” she asked.

  “It’s all good, Sharon,” John said.

  “Where’s Thomas?” Sharon asked.

  “Beats me. He disappeared as soon as you went upstairs,” Colin said.

  “Are you the lady from the window?” Billy asked.

  Sharon nodded.

  “Then me and Blow owe you a big thanks. I don’t know how much longer I’d have lasted out there.”

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re all right,” Sharon said.

  “How are things out there?” John asked.

  Before Billy could answer, Sharon stepped in. “I think we should let our guest catch his breath first. Then, if you don’t mind...?”

  “Billy,” the biker offered.

  “Billy, I’m sure we all have a lot of questions we’d like to ask you,” Sharon said.

  ***

  “I’d like to start by introducing and welcoming Billy,” Sharon said.

  The group had sat down in exactly the same positions they had this morning, with Billy slotting in between Colin and Mo. Sharon took this as a good sign; it meant that there had been no sudden shift of politics. Nothing major had blown up that could disrupt the equilibrium of the group. And although there was a very definite power block aligned against her, she knew that for the moment she was in charge.

  “I’m sure we all have a lot of questions for Billy,” she said.

  “I doubt I’ll be able to answer many,” Billy said. He leaned back in his chair, his leathers creaking. Since arriving, he had taken the time to clean himself up, although he still smelt strongly of body odour. “What’s happening out there?” Colin asked.

  “I can’t say I know much more than you.” Billy said, shaking his head. “It’s seven shades of hell out there. Saturday night everything was fine. Now, what, two days later?”

  “Three days. Today’s Tuesday,” John chipped in, trying to be helpful.

  “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday,” Billy counted on his fingers and carried on, “There’s no normal people out there, or if there are, they’re few and far between.”

  “What’s been happening?” Sharon asked. “There’s nothing on the news. Is it something to do with this flu we were hearing about?”

  Billy shook his head.“Ain’t no flu, lady. The flu doesn’t bring people back from the dead.”

  “I heard over the radio they were dead,” Colin said.

  John cut in, “But that’s just impossible.”

  "Impossible or not, I saw my own son turn. He was bitten by one of the infected in his workshop. He got the sweats and died not eight hours later. Two minutes after he stopped breathing, he was up and coming at me.”

  “Surely they’re not dead dead?” John said, immediately wishing he’d been more eloquent.

  “I’ve never shot a live person, but I’m guessing they don’t chase after you with half their chest missing,” Billy explained.

  “It doesn’t matter if they’re dead or just suffering from some infection,” Colin said. “If they’re attacking you, you have the right to defend yourself.”

  “What about the police or the army?” Mo asked.

  “I didn’t see a single soldier out there. There were a few jets and choppers in the air and I did bump into a handful of cops.”

  “And what did the police have to say?” Sharon asked.

  “They told me to bolt up and sit tight. They were pretty badly shaken up. One of them even gave me the boom stick there.” Billy nodded over his shoulder to the shotgun propped up against the wall behind him. “Imagine that. The Federales giving old Billy a gun and telling him to be on his way.” He gave a chuckle.

  “So did you have a plan to go anywhere?” Thomas asked.

  “I was planning to go to my son’s place, up the coast,” Billy answered.

  “I thought you said your son was dead,” Liz said.

  “My other son. I’ve got three. The other one’s overseas at the moment. Anyway, that went to pot half a mile up the road there when my bike’s reserve tank ran dry. Thought I’d be okay to scrounge fuel, but most of the cars out there are dry.”

  “Why are they empty so soon?” Sharon asked.

  “The pumps were running dry by the end of last week with the flu scare,” John said. “I waited in line for an hour after work on Friday to get a tankful.”

  Billy went on, “I don’t know if they were all empty, I just know the ones I tried were and the one I did find with fuel creeped me out. There was a dead woman in the front seat—well, kinda dead—who kept trying to take chunks out of me through the glass.” He paused for a moment. “Well, that aside, before I could even start siphoning off, there were a dozen of those ghouls on me. I tried to circle back round, but it was way too busy. Then thankfully I found myself here.”

  “Well, you might not be too thankful when you find out the details of our situation,” Sharon said. “Having looted the vending machines and the desks, we have roughly three days’ worth of food. Slightly less now you’ve arrived.” She gave a nod to Billy. “The bad news is, it’s mainly confectionery. The few sandwiches that will pass as proper food need to be eaten soon, before they spoil.”

  “Three days’ worth of food?” John asked. “Is that enough?”

  “You can survive for weeks without food,” Thomas said. He looked John up and down, then added, “Well, some of us could last longer.”

  “Fresh water is the priority,” Colin said.

  “No, we’re fine for that,” Mo said

  Sharon showed him a puzzled look. She asked, “How so? The water might go off any minute.”

  “There’s a delivery of bottled water for the coolers down in the loading bay,” Mo explained.

  “How many?” Colin asked.

  “Half a dozen five gallon bottles,” Mo answered.

  “You need two litres of water per day,” Colin said. “So how many litres are there per gallon?”

  “Just over twenty,” John said.

  “How’d you get to that so quickly?” Colin asked.

  “Working out mileages on expense forms,” John replied.

  “So how many days supply is that, John?” Sharon asked.

  John put his pen to paper and started scribbling out the numbers.

  “The ten of us...” John said, tapping out a head count with his pen, “and that’s thirty gallons of water. Um… at two litres per day, we got six and a bit days.”

  “Ten of us?” Billy said. “What about my dog?”

  The brown and white animal was curled up on the floor next to Billy’s feet, sleeping off the excitement of this afternoon.

  “How much does a dog need?” John asked.

  “I don’t know,” Billy said. “I stick out a couple of fresh bowls a day.”

  “That’s not that much, I suppose,” John said, chewing at the end of the pen.

  “Remember, we’re not counting the water coolers already in the building,” Mo said.

  “And we can just keep filling those up from the mains for as long as we have pressure,” Colin added.

  “So we�
��ve got at least a week’s worth of water,” Sharon surmised. “We’ll need to keep the unopened bottles in reserve in case the main water does get cut off.”

  “We can set up some kind of rainwater catcher in case it rains,” Mo offered.

  “Is it just me, or is everyone here happy with a week’s worth of supplies?” Thomas asked.

  “Well, what would you have us do, Thomas?” Sharon asked.

  “You’ve just told us we’ll be fine without food for four weeks,” Colin said.

  “You can survive for four weeks without food, but it’s not going to be pleasant. We need to go and stock up,” Thomas said.

  “What? That’s just idiotic,” Sharon replied.

  “We’ve only got enough food for today before we start gorging ourselves on chocolates,” Thomas argued. “We’ll go stir crazy in here without proper food to eat.”

  “You heard the announcements on TV: Stay indoors,” Sharon said. “Besides, have you looked out the window today? I very much doubt the supermarkets are open.”

  “I’d advise against popping down to the shops,” Billy said. “Those things don’t move fast, but the streets are heaving with them.”

  “We need to go out and get food,” Thomas said sternly.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Sharon said. “Besides, this whole thing could blow over in a couple of days.”

  “This isn’t some passing rain storm ,” Thomas said. “We can’t just duck under cover for a few minutes and carry on. This is the fucking apocalypse.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating a bit there,” John said.

  “Take a look outside and tell me you see rainbows and sunshine.”

  “Look, I agree with you both,” Colin said, cutting in over John’s forthcoming rebuttal.“We need food and it’s a mess outside. This thing is obviously wide-scale, but it doesn’t mean we won’t have the police or the army strolling down that road at any moment. This is big.It’s bound to take the government time to organise. I think we look to being rescued, but we prepare for being on our own.”

  “Sense at last,” Thomas said.

  “Well, what would you propose?” Sharon asked Colin.

  “We’ve got food for today and tomorrow. If the situation’s the same outside tomorrow, I say we go looking for supplies.”

  “Is that okay with everybody?” Sharon asked.

  There was a round of nods.

  “Okay, when we meet back here at nine a.m. tomorrow, I want you all to have thought about the best way to go about this. We’ll spend Wednesday planning and organizing, and if there’s no change to our situation, then my suggestion is to put our plans in action first thing Thursday morning. Now, is there any other business?”

  “Cigarettes,” Magda said in a crisp voice.

  “I’m sorry?” Sharon said, not sure what was meant by the statement.

  “Were cigarettes found?” Magda asked.

  “I… I don’t know. Maybe John or Thomas can shed some light on that?”

  “Yes,” John said emphatically. He turned over a few sheets in his notepad.

  Thomas slouched back, somewhat deflated by the prospect that he would have to share. He felt the bulge of the packet in his pocket and was grateful he’d managed to at least pilfer those.

  “Here we go,” John said. “Do you want the totals by type or desk?”

  “How many cigarettes?” Alex asked bluntly.

  “Um...” John scanned his notes. “Two full packs, which is forty cigarettes, and a further thirty-four loose. That’s seventy-four in total.”

  The two Polish cleaners started muttering to each other incomprehensibly. After a moment Magda spoke.

  “Is twenty-four each between three of us, is it not?” she said, casting an eye over Alex and Thomas.

  Alex turned to Billy.

  “Do you smoke?” she asked in her heavily-accented English.

  Billy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it.

  “Okay,” Sharon agreed.

  “Between five,” Liz suddenly interjected.

  Everyone at the table turned their heads to gawk at Liz.

  “But you don't smoke,” Melissa said firmly.

  Liz nodded, but didn’t make eye contact with her daughter. “I used to before you were born. I feel like restarting.”

  “Now’s not the time to start smoking again,” Thomas said. “Besides, you’d only get a few days’ supply. It hardly seems worth it."

  “Yeah, it’s a bad habit to restart,” Colin added.

  “I want a smoke,” Liz said.

  Thomas shrugged. “Come now—”

  “Give me a fucking cigarette!” Liz shouted, slamming her fists on the table.

  Melissa jolted back, shocked by her mother’s behaviour.

  “This isn’t worth an argument,” Sharon said diplomatically. “I don’t see any reason why Liz shouldn’t get a cut of the found cigarettes.”

  “So that works out at fourteen each,” John said. “Well, fourteen each and four left over. I don’t know how you want to work that one out.”

  Sharon stood up. Liz was still fuming and her daughter looked ready to burst into tears.

  “I think we can call this meeting adjourned. John will take care of the cigarette situation and we’ll meet back here tomorrow morning at nine am with contingency plans in case we don’t get rescued.”

  Without waiting for the room to acknowledge her, Sharon turned and left.

  ***

  “There’s someone else here,” Karen said, putting the plates down.

  Entering into the first aid room she had almost convinced herself that Shan left the footprints, maybe having decided to take a stroll while Karen made something to eat. That hope had vanished as she entered the room and saw Shan fast asleep on the medical bed.

  “There’s someone else in the school,” Karen repeated.

  Shan pushed back the rough blanket like a child in a tantrum and tried to focus on what her friend was saying. She started to yawn, but winced when the pain snapped at her cheek.

  “Someone else—who?” Shan asked.

  “I don’t know who,” Karen whispered harshly.

  “Is it like the Janny, or one of the teachers, or some random?”

  “I don't know. All I saw were their footprints.”

  “Maybe they were made weeks ago and you just didn’t notice them,” Shan reasoned.

  Karen shook her head vigorously. “No, it was the water. The footprints were from the water—they would have dried out.”

  “Let’s look,” Shan said, swinging her legs off the bed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “It could be anyone or even one of those things,” Karen said.

  Shan picked up the lump of concrete in one hand.

  “Then we’ll take care of them like we did at the farm,” she said.

  “No, Shan, we shouldn’t have done that,” Karen said.

  “He fucking asked for it. Now shut up and show me where those footprints are,” Shan demanded.

  She grabbed hold of the door handle and threw the door open. She stepped in to the corridor.

  “Which way?” she asked flatly.

  Karen pointed and followed after her. Eventually the pair reached the junction in the corridor.

  “Up that way,” Karen said. “The tracks went up that way.”

  “I don’t see any,” Shan said, sticking out her bottom lip.

  “There were wet. They must have dried up.”

  “You don’t say,” Shan snorted dismissively.

  Karen walked down the hallway back in the direction of the kitchen. There she reacquired the trail.

  “Over here,” Karen said.

  Shan sauntered over, bereft of her friend’s sense of urgency.

  “Yeah?” Shan asked.

  She played with the lump of concrete, spinning it around in her hand and testing its weight by bouncing it in
her palm.

  “Down there you can see my prints and the second person’s side-by-side,” Karen pointed out.

  Shan bent down to examine the marks.

  The water was indeed drying out and the footprints had started to evaporate and contract.

  “I don’t see it,” Shan admitted after studying the tracks.

  “They’ve dried out a bit, but those ones are far bigger than mine.”

  “Or the smaller ones are you first time round and they’ve dried up, making the other look bigger.” Shan stood up, satisfied with her answer. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

  She turned back to the sick bay.

  Karen stood in the hallway for a moment, inspecting the marks on the floor.

  “I didn’t just imagine those,” she said to herself.

  She looked back up at Shan.

  “I didn’t imagine it!” Karen shouted.

  Shan turned round. “Come on, supper’s getting cold.”

  She turned but her path was blocked. Standing in front of her was a tall pale woman.

  Shan raised her arm up and brought the concrete hammer down as hard as she could.

  The woman started to say, “What are you two—”

  Shan’s blow struck the woman directly on the temple. There was a dull crack that sounded like a fresh twig snapping and the woman stopped talking.

  She remained standing for an instant, then keeled over sideways. She toppled into the wall, her head snapping backwards as she crashed to the floor.

  Karen screamed.

  Shan stood there holding the makeshift weapon, frozen in astonishment.

  The woman lay on the floor, her head cocked at a peculiar angle, her legs crumpled underneath her.

  Karen gulped in a couple of sharp breaths and then continued screaming.

  “Shut up!” Shan shouted hysterically.

  Ignoring her, Karen kept on screaming.

  Shan walked up to her friend and slapped her across the face.

  “Shut up!”

  “That was Miss Alvarez!” Karen said, staring at the body.

  “She was one of those mental people,” Shan said.

  “She spoke—she was normal,” Karen replied.

  “She was one of those fucked fuckers, Karen,” Shan said more forcefully.