The Farm

by Carter, Stuart

  “Surely Dad isn’t listening to those instructions? He can’t go around shooting people. It would be murder.”

  “He is definitely listening. These policemen are scared, and they have moved their families here because it’s the safest place they can think of. People are dying. This is out of control at the moment. The law can’t protect us, so we need to protect ourselves… You remember that. Keep yourself locked up inside. Find something to protect yourself with, and don’t take any chances until this has all blown over.”

  Ruth indicated a willingness to stay indoors and that she would catch up on the news immediately. She was worried as she ended the call with her mother, but wanted confirmation from a less hysterical source. As she walked out of her room in a state of dress that was based on the assumption that she would be alone for a couple of hours at least, she found herself face to face with Paul. She did not share Lucy’s blasé attitude to that sort of thing and felt uncomfortable until it became very clear that he was not in the slightest bit interested,

  “I can’t get hold of my parents. They left me a message last night, and sounded really terrified. I tried to call them back, but it’s gone straight to voicemail. Have you got any idea what’s going on?”

  “It’s not even seven yet. Won’t they still be asleep?”

  “They worry too much. They never turn off their mobiles, but I tried both of them and nothing.”

  “It’s probably the networks. My parents said there’s a lot of trouble going around, and the networks never cope with a crisis. They can’t even cope with New Year’s.” She immediately saw that the start of that comment had been a mistake. If she could reach her parents communication must be possible. She tried to recover by adding, “Just keep trying. You’ll get through at some point.”

  She was relieved as he reacted by making another attempt to call, then following her down the stairs. As she walked she subtly tried to re-arrange her dressing gown to allow a bit more decency. With what she had heard already that morning it shouldn’t have been a big concern in the grand scheme of things, but it was not the time to try fighting the habit of a lifetime.

  She walked strait into the kitchen, and seeing Paul still trying unsuccessfully to make some contact with his family, directed him to put the TV on and see what was happening on the news. Ruth was worried about how shaken up he seemed. She did not know what was on the messages he had heard, but knew how scared she would have been if she hadn’t been able to make immediate contact with her family. However worrying the news had been, it was far better than the nothing which could mean anything.

  She joined Paul in the Living room, silent as she was afraid of saying something that would be in appropriate in the circumstances. He thanked her as she placed a cup of tea on the table beside him, but otherwise stayed engrossed in the news that the TV was spewing forth. She sat down on the sofa clutching her tea and watched what was going on in the country. She was surprised to see that it was as bad as her mum had described it. There was chaos everywhere, though the main focal points seemed to be in the Norwich area, London and Birmingham. A big outbreak was also spreading across the United States with an epicentre in New York. Ruth looked at the map that the BBC presented and weighed up her chances of travelling. By the look of it, getting to the train station in Newcastle was suicide, and getting from it in Norwich was pretty much the same. The journey between was hit and miss at every stage. Given what was going on, travel around the UK was probably going to be shut off sooner than a train could reach East Anglia.

  The news switched to local, and they started to see the carnage that had ensued on the streets of Newcastle while they had all played Monopoly. There was a grave warning to people not to leave their houses until the police and army had restored order. People should not open their doors to anyone, even if they recognized the person on the other side. From here, they cut to footage of the violence that had spread the previous night. It was a mixture of what had been recorded by professional TV crews, CCTV cameras and what had been captured on mobile phones. None of it was pleasant viewing.

  They watched as a group of twenty people charged at one of the bars in the city centre. Nearly all of them missed the door, and crashed straight through the panels of glass that formed the front of the building. They looked totally oblivious to the shards of glass that were left protruding from their bodies. It was not the same for the people who had been on the other side of the glass, who were screaming in shock and pain. They weren’t given long to focus on the crash, before they were under attack from the people who had just battered their way through the glass. Those nearest the windows were quickly bitten and gored beyond recognition, but the attackers were soon distracted by the screams of people further back in the bar. There was no way out for them, and the carnage moved back, deeper into the building.

  It became impossible to see what had happened as the action moved out of the range of the CCTV camera. After a couple of minutes they could see some of the people from the front of the bar moving. A couple got back onto their feet, and appeared to move back into the bar to re-join the fight. The footage was cut at that point to jump ahead a few minutes to when a police van arrived. It was well manned, they watched ten officers climb out. All were armed. They formed a line facing the shattered glass that had once been the front of the pub.

  Ruth and Paul watched silently, unsure what could happen next. What they had already been shown did not fit in with normal censured early morning broadcasting, and the run lacked the kind of commentary that would be expected to explain and analyse this kind of broadcast. It was not long before the police line was charged. At first it was only a couple of people who were quickly shot down by a hail of bullets, but soon they charged on mass. The police continued to fire, but their bullets seemed to have little effect on their targets. Only the occasional head-shot seemed to make any difference. The effect was more pronounced away from the firing line. On the camera movement could be seen behind the police line. The noise of the guns which were failing to stop an onslaught on one side was making enough noise to bring on an onslaught from behind. Thirty seconds was all it took for all of the officers to be incapacitated. More terrifying was seeing them walking again when they cut to footage a few minutes later.

  The two were still staring silently at the screen when Lucy entered the room. She said good morning to them, and without waiting for a response, proceeded to execute a thorough yawn, and stretch. The later showcased every one of her perfect curves, which, displayed with perfect innocence, were heightened in their allure. For once Paul had no trouble ignoring the body that had entered the room, and remained entirely focused on the TV.

  “What’s happening?” Lucy asked, with all of the unconcern of the uninformed.

  “The fucking world is falling apart around us.” Paul answered. “You should try calling your family. Make sure they’re OK. It doesn’t look like anyone is safe.”

  Lucy looked confused by his response, and turned to Ruth for clarification. “What’s going on?”

  “We don’t know, but it’s bad. You should call home like he says.” To Paul she said, “I think we should shut the curtains and try to give no sign that this place is occupied.” He did not hesitate to comply, instead asking while he moved if they should wake the other two and make sure they didn’t do anything stupid. Ruth knew it was serious when even Paul was showing that kind of sense. If there was any sense of safety he would be acting like a child. He was as scared as she was. Possibly more so, as he’d failed to contact his family, while she knew hers were safe. Unlike the rest of the country they had a secure food supply and access to fire arms. She would have felt far safer if she was back at home, but an awful lot of miles stood in the way.

  Having blocked up all visible windows, Ruth walked into the kitchen. Paul was banging on Simon’s door trying to get his attention, failing as he was trying to be quiet enough to avoid sound travelling outside of the building. She had sneaked into Natalie’s room and roused her, givi
ng enough information to keep her quiet but make her afraid. She was trying to call home as Ruth left.

  As she entered the kitchen Ruth saw that Lucy was upset. “There’s no answer!” she said. “Do you think they’re OK? They’ve never missed a call before.”

  “The networks are probably struggling now. There will be too many people trying to make calls, and not enough at work keeping the phone lines working.”

  “What’s going on? It was fine last night. What’s got you and Paul so scared?”

  “It wasn’t fine last night. We were just hidden from the troubles. It’s not safe to leave the house. Some kind of virus is making people crazy. People are killing each other for no reason. I don’t know how bad it is, but the BBC seems to have abandoned all sense of censorship. I can’t believe what they were showing a few minutes ago. If that’s considered OK then some serious shit it going on.”

  “Are we safe in here?”

  “I don’t know. We need to keep the doors locked, and the windows covered. If any numbers attack us I don’t think anything will keep us safe. We just saw a dozen police with guns killed. We need to make sure we aren’t seen or heard.”

  The Farm

  The two officers were back at the farm. Both looked shell-shocked. John was not sure what to say to them, and stayed in an awkward silence once he had distributed tea. He was sure that his father would have dealt with this better, but he was out building fences and what he called gun pits. His Dad seemed to have readily adopted the theory that the apocalypse was happening, and was urgently preparing for it. The two police officers in front of him seemed to have experienced the kind of trauma that justified the fortifications that were rapidly being built, but John still couldn’t believe it. It still felt odd that they had moved both of their families onto the farm without any real permission. As his father had accepted it John had no recourse to protest, but didn’t believe in the emergency that had prompted this liberty. On the other hand, his own liberty was contingent on this emergency. He missed the simplicity of normal farming life.

  He felt awkward trying to think of small talk to pass the time, but wasn’t relieved when he heard a call to action from outside. His Dad had put people on guard duty, ready to shout at any approach. Now this happened he had orders to take command and defend the line against any hostile forces. He felt ridiculous taking up his gun, and moving outside, but felt reassured by the presence of the two police officers arming themselves behind him. It made it feel real.

  He got into position with a wall of hay bales in front of him. Beyond those was the ditch designed to keep the cattle in check. He could see the cows in the field opposite looking a little concerned as half a dozen people entered their field. The cattle moved to the far corner of the field and were ignored. The people invading the fields seemed to have eyes only for the people on the farm, despite their being well hidden behind the hay bales. The farmers knelt and watched them advance, unsure what to do. John shouted, warning them to stop, but this only prompted a faster pace.

  “Let them come.” Cooper told him.

  They didn’t advance particularly quickly, but with a resoluteness, a lack of hesitation that cleared the intervening ground quickly. There was no sign of fatigue, and no slackening of pace until the ditch obstructed them. It was not a complex obstacle, but it seemed to baffle them. Without exception they fell face first into the trickle of water at the bottom of the ditch. It was only a temporary delay. Soon all six were climbing out of the trap. John could only watch as Sargent Cooper stepped forward and shot five of them in the head as they crawled up the side of the ditch. The sixth he allowed to climb out of the ditch and get to its feet, then immediately shot it in both knees in quick succession.

  Cooper turned to the men watching him. “This is what we are up against,” he said. The man he had knee capped still crawled towards him. “They feel no pain.” He emphasised this by putting a bullet in its ass. “They don’t die easily.” He emphasised this by putting a bullet through it’s back. “At no point do they give up hope of killing.” He put bullets through both of its elbows, but oblivious, it continued to advance on the nearest person to it. “If we show humanity towards these things we are dead.” As far as I have seen, they only die with a bullet to the brain. He demonstrated the effectiveness of this. “The lives of my family and yours depends upon this line holding. Do not mistake these things for human. Shoot first, ask questions later. Aim for the head, and end them. Don’t rely on any other shot.”

  With that, the policeman walked away, leaving his audience shocked and confused. They had just seen an agent of the law shoot six people dead. One of them had been shot repeatedly without seeming to feel any pain. The single-minded aggression of those who had been shot had been plain to see, and a part of all of the men who had watched was relieved that it had not come down to a closer fight, but there was something wrong with the world if summary executions like this could be carried out. John turned from the scene and chased after the self-appointed executioner, but when he reached him, found himself tongue tied. Instead Cooper spoke,

  “Horrifying I know. Unfortunately in a couple of days you will fully understand why I had to do it. The world we know is gone. It’s all about survival now.”

  With that he turned and walked away, leaving John standing dumb and confused.

  Over the course of the day four more groups approached the farm. Three of them came from the direction of Norwich, the other from the South. Two of the Norwich groups and the Southern one were refugees. Seeing the guns they responded, following instructions, and were allowed onto the farm. Once on the farm they were interrogated by Cooper, now assisted by Constable Andrews, and checked over for injuries. He had also taken possession of one of the farm dogs, and was keeping it close through the interviews. John had noticed a particular hostility in the dog towards the people that Andrews had shot, and assumed the officer had observed the same thing.

  The three groups all had their own stories to tell, but there was a common theme. They were all fleeing acts of extreme violence that they could not understand. They had witnessed random attacks, by people who seemed to show no pain, listened to no reason, and focused entirely on biting their victims. There were repeated accounts of seemingly dead people rising to join the attack. It all backed up the horror stories that the two policemen had been telling. By the time the third group approached from Norwich, charging heedless of the instructions to slow their approach the farmers showed little hesitation in opening fire and stopping them. To a man, they were good shots, used to focusing on far smaller targets, so the first volley put a bullet in at least one of the legs of each of the three people approaching. When the lack of reaction to this was observed, a second volley found each of their heads.

  The refugees were invited to stay, and John asked a couple of the men to clear out one of the barns as a makeshift refugee centre. The farmer in him worried about the lack of actual farming that was going on, and hoped that at least some of the new additions to their community could be put to work to catch up on what had not been getting done. He figured that what was going on could blow over in a couple of days, or could drag on forever. Either way, it was essential that food was still being produced. In good times or a crisis, nothing was more important.

  The night passed without incident. Patrols were active throughout the hours of darkness, each sentry armed, with a dog by their side, and with a battery powered walki-talkie to back up their phones if the networks failed as they had done repeatedly through the day. They had spent the evening trying to get hold of Ruth without success, so had little confidence in an emergency. She was constantly on the minds of her family, but they could do nothing to assure themselves of her well-being.

  John was awake early, having barely slept. Fatigue was no match for his concern. He tried his phone again with no success, then went downstairs in his dressing gown to watch the news. He was not the first there in front of the television. He saw that there was a light on as he approach
ed and he heard the faint sound of the TV turned as low as possible while still being audible to the person in the room. He entered quietly, but the sound of the door was noticed, and he entered the room faced with the nervous stare of one of the refugees that had arrived the previous afternoon. She immediately started to apologise for her intrusion into the family home.

  John brushed aside her apology, insisting there was nothing to be sorry for. He was not sure that was true, her being in his house uninvited, but given recent events he was not certain where manners were relevant. Instead of dwelling on the subject he moved on to asking what news the TV was offering.

  “The only channel that’s showing is the emergency news. It’s mostly on a loop, but occasionally a presenter or an army official makes an appearance. It seems like the whole country is as bad as it is here. And there are outbursts happening across the world.”

  “I can’t believe any of this is happening,” was all he could think of to say. They were silent as the news loop started again. A dull monotone informed them both that the country was in the grip of an unprecedented crisis. All viewers were advised to stay in their homes with their doors and windows locked. They should admit no one into their houses, however well they knew the person at the door. A dangerous, highly contagious virus had spread through the country, putting its victims beyond the reach of reason, and uncontrollably violent. Incidents had been reported the entire length and breadth of the country.

  From there the TV switched to a montage of the trouble across the nation. It started on an oil rig off the North coast of Scotland. The footage was taken from a helicopter, and the unsteadiness of the camera work showed its amateur nature. A crowd of ten charged down a group twice their number. The larger group were clearly scared, and huddled together at one corner of the platform. Quite a few carried blunt weapons of various forms, but waved them uncertainly. The ten did not seem to see the tools, and charged in. The blows they suffered seemed to have no effect, bouncing off them and doing nothing to slow the charge. One went down with a heavy blow to the head, but the man who dealt the blow dropped his weapon in shock, and soon found a set of teeth sinking into his arm.