He found the master bedroom, and took a look through the wardrobes. The clothes on offer were only slightly less hideous than the jeans he was wearing, but his options were limited. Nothing would fit well, but he found a pair of trousers that would cover him until something better could be found. The old man obviously wore his trousers around his armpits, so at a normal height they would be long enough. He turned to James, “Take a look around. See if you can find anything useful here while I get changed.”
There was an en-suite bathroom, so he stepped inside with his new trousers. He removed the blood soaked jeans and stepped into the walk in shower. Neither it, nor any of the taps worked. He swore at them and removed the lid from the toilet cistern. It, at least, was still full. With a flannel he started cleaning his legs, letting the bloody water run straight onto the floor. There was no one left to worry about the mess. It was only then that he realized that not all of the blood was from the old woman. A couple of shards of glass had cut into his shin and he was bleeding freely. He checked for glass, and finding none, finished washing, then tied a towel tightly around his leg. He had seen how Fred had faded with blood loss, so made sure to get the bandage right. It was not visible under the ill-fitting trousers that he had acquired. No one could make a big deal about it. He left the bathroom and went to look for James.
Mark went through the door indicated. It took him into the garage as expected. At the end nearest the door was a well-organized workstation. He wasn’t sure what most of the tools that were neatly arrayed on the wall were meant for, but he put down his bat and tried to assess their usefulness as a weapon, imagining the damage each could do. There was a sound behind him, and he turned assuming that it was one of his friends.
It wasn’t. Another old man was approaching him, shuffling along slowly. He had the build of a man used to hard work, but now well into an irreversible decline. He was probably the owner of the tools Mark had been assessing. His approach was hampered by some damage to his left leg. His trousers were soaked in blood, so Mark assumed that that was where he had been bitten. He was not too worried about the man approaching. He turned back and tried to choose the best weapon for the current situation. A sick idea came to mind.
He picked up a can of WD40 that was lined up at the back of the bench, and gave it a shake to check it was full enough. He turned back and saw that the old man was still making his slow, unsteady advance. Mark took a lighter out of his pocket and let the infected man close the gap between them. Just before he was within arm’s reach he flicked open the lighter. He looked at the flame for a second, then sprayed the highly flammable lubricant through it onto the old man’s face.
It ignited immediately, with a satisfying growl. The man’s head was engulfed in flames. It did not slow him down in the least. His skin quickly blackened, the thin wisps of hair on his head were burnt away. His lips melted away revealing a row of teeth disfigured by age, but still solid. His eyeballs burst, the fluid running down his face, hissing as it evaporated. His cheekbones started to show as the flesh in front of them melted away. It was only then that Mark realized the stupidity of his decision. The man ignored the flames and the burning away of his face. Unlike Mark he didn’t notice the smell of his own flesh burning. He was close enough, so he grabbed the hand holding the lighter and bit into it.
The lighter was dropped, and Mark tried to pull his hand away, but the teeth had already sunk deep into him. The old man was pulled closer to him before his hand came free, minus a chunk of flesh that stayed in the man’s mouth. He was now close enough for Mark to feel the heat pouring off the burnt flesh. The man was blind, but knew exactly where his prey stood. Mark was grabbed by arms that had retained enough of their former strength, and was bitten again in the side of the neck before he could react. He pushed the man back, but the grip was strong, as was the determination. Reaching behind himself he managed to get hold of a heavy wrench. He shoved the man back again, and this time followed it up with a blow to the head. There was not enough space to get a proper swing, but he knocked the man back far enough to allow him to deliver a second fatal blow. He leaned back against the worktop and caught his breath. Looking at the bite through his hand, and feeling the one on his neck he knew it was all over for him. In front of him was the car they needed, but he knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to stay with the rest of the gang. He was still standing there when the other two came looking for him.
Birstall
Work carried on as before. The sense of urgency had already been there. This new danger changed nothing. Fearing for their own lives could not make them work and harder than they already were. For the security forces it was different. They were now taking orders from the army, and were working relentlessly to build some defences that would stop an attack from thousands of people who would advance fearlessly. They had twenty five people and as many guns to achieve this.
Phil was working for another twelve hours, and during that time heard no more about what was going on outside of his lab. For most of the time he was too focused on his work to think about anything else, but at times his mind was able to wander. It turned to either Hannah, or the danger that approached them. He made sure his mind was never away from the job for long.
When he got off work he went straight to Hannah’s room. He knocked on the door, but got no answer. He assumed that it meant that she was at work, so went to the canteen for some food. The food on offer was pretty awful, but he was tired and hungry enough not to notice. He sat at a table joining a couple of people that he knew. As he joined them they were complaining about the food on offer. It was only at their prompting that he looked up and noticed the lack of staff at work. Usually as academics isolated from the rest of the world they were pampered in a way that they did not even notice.
As soon as he saw it he knew what was going on. Research was going on at full pace, but all other personnel were being redirected towards the defence of the facility. The chiefs that would usually be preparing their food would be getting crash courses in how to use firearms. He also knew that the peril that they were in had been kept hidden for the majority of the population. He probably shouldn’t know what he did. He hadn’t been asked to keep quiet about it, but did anyway. He couldn’t see what good would come from everyone knowing that they were in extreme danger from people infected by the disease that their research had created. Focus on their job was key. They had to trust the people defending them to succeed.
He went back past Hannah’s room on his way to his own, but she still wasn’t there. It was no surprise. He assumed that she would be working shifts as long as he was. A few hours overlap in their sleeping times was the best that could be hoped for. He desperately wanted to speak to her, but was powerless. He assumed that she knew nothing about the military incursion of the previous night, and would find out nothing except what he could tell her. He was not sure what good telling her would do, but he wanted to do it anyway. Powerless to do what he wanted, Phil went to bed, and was asleep in seconds.
He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he was woken by a gentle knocking at his door. It shouldn’t have been loud enough to wake him, but he guessed that a part of his brain must have been waiting for that sound. It should have been louder as she knew that he would be asleep and would need waking, but he knew that she was nervous about this relationship. He quickly got out of bed, and put on his dressing gown on the way to the door. Hannah was there when he opened it.
She was clearly as exhausted as he was. With barely a word they went through to his bed. Without undressing she climbed into the bed next to him. He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. “I think we’re in trouble,” he told her.
“What have we done wrong,” she asked, looking ready to leap out of the bed.
“Not me and you. The whole of Birstall.” He proceeded to tell her about what he had learnt the previous night, and the implications of it.
“So at any minute we could be overrun by people infected by the virus that was
created here? Has our country been completely destroyed by this?”
“If the army has been called in and can’t cope it suggests that the police have collapsed. If they can’t cope it suggests that society in general has fallen down. I think that we could be on our own if we’re attacked.”
“Are we going to die?”
“I don’t know. The soldiers who turned up here seem good, obviously far better than our usual security detail, and I’d trust them to keep us safe, but their whole unit got wiped out, so I don’t know if they have the fire power to deal with this. I think they’ll be massively outnumbered when the attack comes. It seems that they’ve been recruiting a lot of the service staff into their ranks. I don’t know if you’ve eaten, but there aren’t many people left working in the kitchens.”
She pressed herself closer to him, “Why haven’t we been told? Shouldn’t we all be learning how to fight?”
“We still have work to do. Finding a cure is essential. And I’m sure that we would all be pretty useless in a fight.”
“Why aren’t we being told anything? Should you be telling me all that you have?”
“I haven’t been told not to, but don’t go spreading this around. I don’t know if it will matter, but I really hope we are still in a world where this sort of stuff still seems important.”
She nodded and said no more. In a few minutes both of them fell asleep.
The attack came while they both slept. Neither woke immediately as the sound of gunfire was incorporated into their dreams. When they became conscious that they were under attack they could only guess how long it had been going on. Outside they could hear what sounded like dozens of guns firing, and hundreds of people shouting instructions which they could not make out the words of. “What do we do?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t know. I think we should stay here and trust the army to deal with this.” He got out of bed and went to check that the door was locked. He wedged a chair under the door handle to be sure. She noticed how he still limped as he walked. They wouldn’t be able to run fast. They had to stay hidden. She got out of bed and looked for anything that could be used as a weapon if the defences outside failed. As she listened she was sure that there were already less guns firing than there had been when they woke.
Newcastle
Ruth awoke early the next morning, as dawn was just threatening to break. She got out of bed immediately and went to check on whoever had taken on sentry duty, and if they had been able to get through to the walls into the next house. Lucy was watching outside while Natalie slept when Ruth joined them. “What’s happening out there?” she asked.
“Mostly quiet. But the infected seem to be gathering together in larger groups. They used to come past in ones and twos. Now it’s less often, but there always seems to be dozens of them.”
“The door won’t hold for long if a group of them attack.”
“We need an escape route if they hear us. However careful we are I don’t think we can keep silent forever.”
“Is someone still working on getting through to next door? That would give us something.”
“Simon took over from Paul earlier. We swapped, that’s why I’m on sentry again.”
“I’m going to go up and see how he’s doing. I can’t hear anything from up there.”
“I had to tell him to keep it down earlier. I think he was going at it a bit too enthusiastically.”
Ruth left and climbed up into the attic. It was dark and empty. She had to go back down and find a torch. When she shone it around she found a sizeable hole in one of the walls, easily big enough to crawl through. She assumed that was where Simon had gone, and was annoyed that he had not spoken to the rest of them before taking this step. She followed him through the hole. As she emerged into the next attic, one heavily cluttered with boxes, suitcases and bin bags of stuff she saw Simon climbing through the hatch way to join her from below. The torch was still lit, so he spotted her instantly and smiled. A couple of carrier bags were on the floor beside the hatchway,
“I wanted to surprise everyone with a bit of breakfast.” He whispered.
“You shouldn’t have gone alone. It could have been dangerous down there,” she responded.
“The house is deserted. I made a few spy holes in the floor to check before I went down.” She wasn’t fully appeased by this.
“Next time just please make sure someone has your back.”
“Grab a bag.” He said holding out one of the carrier bags. It looked like he had done a very through shop. They clambered back into their own house, and unpacked their loot in the kitchen.
“There’s quite a bit more where this came from. Loads of cans. They have a huge freezer full of stuff. Most of that should still be good, but probably won’t last long. I got that milk out of there and it’s still pretty cold. If we had some way of cooking and preserving stuff we could eat like kings for weeks.”
“We should get everyone else up for some breakfast, then we can make a few more trips and work out what we can use.”
“Probably worth carrying on into the next houses as well. If they have perishable food we should probably be eating that while it’s still good.” He pointed to a slightly blackened bunch of bananas on the table. “No point using up the tinned stuff and letting the fresh stuff go to waste.”
The others were woken and joined them. It was the happiest meal they had spent together for days, inspired by a bit of fresh fruit, a carton of milk and a box of cereal. It was enough to make life feel normal again. When they started discussing the best way of raiding the neighbour’s houses it felt like a game again, and they could momentarily forget the fear that their families may be dead, and that they were in constant peril. The sense of normality had a refreshing edge that lasted well beyond the switch to more serious conversations.
Over breakfast they all agreed that it would be for the best to pool all available resources in the row of houses as quickly as possible. It allowed them to prioritize their rations and minimize waste. Given the lack of flushing water, they also decided to designate a single house as the toilet. Their own place already smelt bad, but it was most noticeable when returning from the next house.
For once the day was busy enough to keep all of them from thinking too much about the fate of their loved ones. For the next fifteen hours they kept up a rota with two people digging through walls in either direction, one sentry, one ferrying food from next door, and one resting. Their run was soon extended to four houses. The houses either side were empty and therefore robbable. Two doors down they drilled precautionary holes in the floor and saw a couple of the infected wandering around. They skipped straight to scraping through the wall to the next house. Through the peep holes they could see the people below getting agitated, but they looked completely powerless to find the way into the attic above them.
Three days of heavy activity seemed to supersede the need to talk as a group. They were all either fulfilling a designated function or sleeping. No one showed any desire to take it easy when they could avoid it. They soon had access to twenty houses. Five of them showed signs of occupation by the infected, either through a physical presence or blood stains that suggested their activity. The houses were avoided without investigation. The others were entered cautiously, after making every sensible attempt to draw out the infected. A stockpile of food grew quickly, and they prioritized its consumption carefully.
Late on the third day they came across some survivors from above. It was another group who looked like fellow students. They didn’t look like they were faring well. They looked malnourished and disorganized. They had obviously holed up in their house rather than risk the streets, but had not had the food reserves on hand, and had not foraged beyond their own walls. Lucy and Paul, who made the discovery, made a silent agreement to retreat and to discuss this and make a decision with the rest of the group the next morning. When they got back to their own house only Ruth was awake on sentry duty, so the decision was easy. Both went to bed.
Ruth woke both of them a few hours later looking sacred.
“Are they here?” Paul asked, before he was properly awake.
“Not yet,” Ruth answered, “But they soon will be. They’re on fire down the road, and it won’t take long for the flames to reach us.”
“Fire?”
“Wake up! We’re in trouble here.”
“What’s happening?”
“I can’t see much through the window, but there is smoke pouring out across the street a few doors down. It looks like a house is on fire, and if it is it won’t take long for it to reach us.”
“Will it reach us here?” Lucy asked.
“I think we need to be ready to get out of this house. Now isn’t the time to be trying anything stupid. We can give up on the fire brigade rescuing us right away.”
“Yeah, and we’ve seen what is out there on the streets. We need some solid walls between us and them.”
“If we can stay here we will, but we need to be ready to run if we can’t. We need to be prepared, and we need to think fast. There might not be any easy answer here.”
Once they were mobilized it only took a couple of minutes to get everyone ready, and loaded with a back pack full of food. Each carried something that should make a suitable weapon. None looked particularly convincing. Desk lamps and sports equipment mostly. A hammer was their most lethal looking piece of weaponry, which had a handle short enough that they would practically need to be bitten before it was in range.
Ruth continued to check out of the window to keep an eye on the progress of the fire.
“Next door is definitely burning.” She told her friends.
“I think we should move away. There are a couple more houses we can get into now. If we’re lucky the fire will burn out before it reaches us. If not, the fence next door looks a lot stronger than ours.”
“Do you think that the people infected by whatever this is will be afraid of fire? Or will they be drawn to it?”
The Farm Page 14