by Colley, Ryan
“That git,” I grinned, looking to the camper van. There was still some good in the world.
“We should reinforce this van at some point,” I said absentmindedly. We had been silent since leaving the campsite. Everyone was deep in thought and hundreds of mental miles away. We thought about the friends we had made who we’d never see again – both old and new.
“What’s that?” Kirsty replied, dragged from her deep thought.
“We should reinforce it. The van that is,” I repeated thoughtfully. Stephanie looked around at the van surrounding her.
“Why’s that?” Stephanie asked.
“We travel in this thing so much. It would be a shame for something to happen. It wasn’t designed for the distance we’ve been putting it through, nor some of the terrain … a few little modifications would make it that much safer,” I replied, looking around the little driver's cabin.
“What did you have in mind?” Kirsty asked – they all seemed very much interested in the idea.
“Take the windows for one,” I replied, slapping the one next to me. “All it would take is one zombie to hit it and it’s broken for good. We’d be exposed. Exposed to the elements. Exposed to the undead. At night they could just reach in and grab us. It would compromise the whole vehicle. It would endanger us, and it could happen at any moment.”
“So, what can we do?” Stephanie asked, alerted by the sudden vulnerability.
“I was thinking we could find something to cover it, some sort of metal mesh or something. It would protect the window and, should it still smash, protect us,” I said thoughtfully.
“Sounds good to me,” Stephanie nodded enthusiastically. “What can we use?”
“Something from a hardware store?” I suggested, more so thinking aloud than asking them.
“Metal from shopping trolleys,” Kirsty said suddenly. “They’re everywhere, we can remove the metal and fix it onto the van or something.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” I said enthusiastically. The others were smiling, clearing enjoying the conversation. I put the question to them, “Any other suggestions for changes we could make?”
“It’s not really a modification, but we should change the tyres as soon as possible,” Stephanie replied, scrunching her face while thinking. “They’re balding and will only get worse with time.”
“Good idea,” I nodded. It wasn’t exactly what I was looking for but still useful.
“We can add winter tyres,” Kirsty continued.
“Winter tires?” I questioned and looked at her quizzically. It was getting closer to summer now, what use did we have for that?
“They prevent sliding and slipping in icy and wet weathers. It provides better grip,” Kirsty explained. “It’s not so much wet now but there is, uh, a lot of blood and stuff on the roads … if we run something over.”
“I get what you’re saying. It’s a great idea,” I smiled happily. A plan was coming together.
“Speaking of running over,” Keith called from the back, “We should reinforce the front to protect the engine.”
It was a good idea, but it lowered the mood slightly. Keith was the elephant in the room – or the potential rapist in the van – and he’d made himself known. It made things awkward.
“Nice thinking,” I said with less enthusiasm. Then I added, “Speaking of the front, we should add–”
Suddenly, there was the rumbling of a mechanical whine.
“What is that?” Stephanie gasped, trying to look out of the window. My mind momentarily thought the engine was failing – especially after all the talk of car maintenance. But then my mind leapt to another time I’d heard something similar.
The last time I’d heard a sound like that, it was followed by the bombing of London. However, there wasn’t anything near our position which would require bombing. No major population centre. No military base. Hell, the military barely existed as far as I knew. What could it be? I pulled over and stopped, climbing out of the vehicle. The women did the same and Keith struggled to view the world from his position. There were open fields on either side of us with a small town not far in front. There could be zombies there, but not enough to warrant being bombed. I carried on craning my head and shielding my eyes from the sunlight, trying to spot what was causing the noise. There wasn’t anything on the ground approaching us. Then the source of the noise came into view. I almost couldn’t see it at first – the brightness of the sky made it difficult – but a black object appeared, ripping through a cloud. A plane – a passenger plane! It wasn’t military. It was huge and continued to get bigger. It took me a moment to realise it was falling – dipping down and approaching the ground.
Whatever fault had occurred in the sky was rapidly becoming a problem for us below. It was going to crash! I froze. I didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t anything I could do! It was like something out of a movie. It just didn’t feel real!
“Uh, Sam,” Kirsty said, panic in her voice. I didn’t move. “Sam!”
“What?” I said, turning to face her, my mouth agape.
“We need to move!” Kirsty replied, climbing in the van. I began walking, fear slowing my movement. Luckily, the plane wasn’t heading for us – if it had been, there would’ve been nothing we could have done. It completely overshot us, but not by an amount I was comfortable with. If I’d been stood on the van, I think I could have stroked the bottom of it. It didn’t stop. It just kept going, getting lower and lower. Goddamn. It was going to hit the ground!
It just kept going until it ripped through the small town. The wing clipped the ground first and was torn off, sending the whole plane spiralling and rolling across the town, crushing homes and tearing the plane apart. Any building that got in the way was bulldozed, the plane slowing with each one that was destroyed. Pieces flew off and scattered. There were no screams, no cries for help but … people may have survived!
“We need to help them,” I said quickly, before driving towards the town.
CHAPTER 10
One hour earlier
“Uh, he doesn’t look so good,” Samantha, the air steward said to her friend and colleague, Lee. Lee looked from behind the curtain at the passenger she was referring too, and couldn’t help but gasp. Samantha was right, he didn’t look good. He didn’t even look alive.
The flight had taken off from Ireland in such a hurry, they didn’t even have time to make sure everyone was sitting down properly. Of course, the plane wasn’t even meant to be taking off to begin with. After the infection had spread, no one was meant to be flying within the United Kingdom. Naturally, when there were signs of infection in Ireland, people wanted out. That wasn’t permitted though, so the flights were done in secret – ‘secret’ meant paying off the right people. Despite a crisis, most people could be bought off.
A few of the richer folk and families of the flight crew had boarded the plane without permission and right under the noses of the military who were meant to be guarding the airport. The only reason they were allowed to take off was that the military had to deal with the undead who had been drawn in by the sound of the engine starting up. One of the soldiers even smiled as the plane got lift-off and wished them luck on their escape.
Due to the fact that everything had been done very off the books, no one had even checked who was getting on the plane. As far as everyone was concerned, the money had gone into the right hands and that was that. Samantha only got a place on the plane because she’d been blowing Steve the pilot. Lee only got a place on the plane for the same reason. Naturally, Mrs ‘Steve the pilot’ didn’t know about either of these indiscretions but had a place on the flight also. Steve the pilot had the fate of two-hundred people in his hands, three of which were his lovers. Steve had contacted the right people to allow this to happen – namely bribing people with the money he’d been paid. He didn’t care about anyone on the plane, even his ‘lovers’ were low on his priority list. What he did care about was saving himself. He only had one useable
talent, and that was flying a plane. So, he worked out some numbers with the influential people who would give him access to a plane. He didn’t have the money to pay for it. However, he knew extremely wealthy people who would pay to get out of Ireland. They’d paid for his escape, and he’d given them theirs. It was a great deal. He planned to continue all the way to France, or somewhere far away. He would force his way into one of the countries and land. Screw quarantine. Screw regulations. He was scared. Of course he was scared of the consequences, but he was more scared of the walking corpses back in Ireland. It was the lesser of two evils for him and, apparently, the two-hundred people with him felt the same.
“What are we gonna do?” Lee whispered to Samantha, both still staring at the passenger.
“We should tell Steve,” she answered, her voice breaking ever so slightly.
“I’ll tell him!” Lee replied, a little too enthusiastically, and thought to himself, “And I’ll have a mouthful of the captain while I’m in there.”
Samantha didn’t think anything of it as Lee left and started knocking on the door of the cockpit. Samantha had always thought of herself as proactive and decided that, while Lee was busy with the captain, she would go and see the passenger.
She approached him cautiously, terrified of the grey form that sat there. If it wasn’t for the colour, she would have assumed the man was sleeping. She stood next to the elderly woman next to him first.
“Do you know this gentleman?” Samantha asked the woman in a calming voice, which only years of being an air steward had helped her master.
“Not at all!” the old woman croaked in the best Queen’s English she could muster. “He came on alone.”
“Ah, thank you,” Samantha said with a sweet smile. While talking to the woman, she’d taken the time to touch the overweight and grey gentlemen. He was icy cold. No pulse either. He was, without a doubt, dead. He was belted in, so that would keep him in place at least. There weren’t any visible wounds either – no bite marks to be specific. Wasn’t that what the movies and the news said to look out for? He shouldn’t turn if that was the case, right?
“So, what did you actually need?” Steve asked Lee as he pulled up his trouser zipper. “I’m sure it wasn’t just to help me relax.”
Lee couldn’t help but smile at that, “Samantha thinks there’s something up with one of the passengers. He did look … dead. I don’t think he’s been bit though.”
Steve chewed his lip and mulled this over. The news did say to look out for bites, because that spread infection, but he’d also known people who hadn’t been bitten come back too. Steve knew they had to be cautious.
“I want you to use the flex-cuffs on his arms and legs,” Steve replied carefully. “If anyone asks why just … just tell them that he’d acted aggressively towards you or Samantha before passing out drunk. Just something believable.”
Lee nodded and took some of the flex-cuffs – the questionably legal plastic zip-tie handcuffs. They were normally used to restrain unruly passengers but would work perfectly for their situation.
The plane hit some turbulence, which Samantha attributed as the reason for the dead passengers head rolling towards the elderly woman and resting on her shoulder.
“He’s out for the count,” the woman giggled. She touched his head to move it, then stopped and frowned, “He needs a blanket. He’s very cold.”
Samantha reached out, almost instinctually, to pull the woman’s hand away from him – she was scared enough for everyone. Then the plane hit some more turbulence and, with the jolt, the man opened his eyes. They were glassy. They were dead.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry,” the woman said with embarrassment, thinking she’d been caught touching him. He leaned forward, mouth agape, and bit her hand.
The woman screamed, and the undead man snarled. With one tug, he tore her arthritic fingers off and chewed them slowly, staring at all the people around him. He was looking for his next meal. Samantha screamed and backed away. Lee, just witnessing the assault and filled with adrenaline, ran forward with the flex-cuffs. He was going to be a hero, he would suppress and cuff him and – but it was too late. The man had grabbed Lee by the neck and pulled him in, tearing out his throat with his teeth. Lee bled out and died in seconds. The old woman also died – old age and shock a poor mix. There were a few moments of silence throughout the plane before all hell broke loose.
The other passengers began screaming and getting out of their seats. They scrambled over each other, trying to get to the back of the plane. Trying to get to the furthest point away that they could. They knew it was the infection, and it was on the plane! A child was crushed and killed in the stampede – no one noticed. Three dead and one zombie. Before long, it was four zombies. The dead had risen and were now making their way to the other passengers. The zombie which used to be Lee turned and saw Samantha. He walked to her slowly and mechanically. She backed away as quickly as she could, never taking her eyes off of him, and started hammering on the cockpit door.
“Steve, let me in!” she screamed, looking between the door and Lee.
“Oh, jog on,” Steve shouted through the door. He heard the screams and, with the information Lee had given him, it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened. Samantha was screaming through the door and Steve couldn’t stand it.
It didn’t take long before Lee was on Samantha and clawing her eyes out. She was still alive whilst they rend the flesh from her. She was still breathing while she was devoured by her former friend. The undead Lee almost made its way to the passengers cowering at the back, until he heard a voice on the other side of the door.
Steve shouted again, “I said jog on!”
That was all the encouragement the zombie needed and began pounding on the door. It drew the attention of other zombies, who turned back and helped assault the cockpit. Steve couldn’t concentrate under the thunderous assault, and the sudden displacement of so many passengers caused the plane to shift into a descent. Normally, simple adjustments would fix it, but Steve couldn’t even begin to think about how to address the situation. They were falling fast.
The door to the cockpit was designed to withstand angry people, not relentless hordes of the undead. It collapsed eventually and they got in. Steve forgot he was the pilot as he stared in abject horror at his approaching doom. Samantha was leading the small band of undead. He held out his hand to keep her away, which she touched tenderly before sinking her teeth into him. Steve opened his mouth to scream as the group of zombies fell forward onto him, but no sound came out.
CHAPTER 11
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” I internally screamed the entire time I drove towards the wreck. Kirsty and Stephanie both shouted at me to turn back, but I didn’t listen. I just kept going. If there were any survivors, we had to help! We needed to see what we could do.
“Turn back!” I heard Keith shout from behind.
“Why?” I retorted in anger.
“No one could survive that! You’re risking our lives!” Keith said in response, genuine fear in his voice.
“He’s right!” Kirsty added frantically. “If we turn back, it doesn’t matter. We didn’t kill anyone.”
“You’re wrong,” I snapped back. “Not doing something means we’ve killed anyone who could’ve survived. Besides … what about the people in the town?”
“He’s right …” Stephanie said, backing me up. “The least we can do is look.”
I nodded at her and smiled my thanks.
Kirsty sighed, “What’s the plan?”
“We look for anyone alive. Bring them to the van and help them however we can. We’ll cross the next bridge when we come to it,” I said, thinking on my feet. I didn’t know what the plan was. I didn't have an appropriate response catalogued for the scenario we were facing!
I pulled over on the edge of the town, taking the keys and an SA80. Keith wasn’t coming with me and there was no way I was leaving him with the keys to the vehicle. I got out of th
e van and jogged forward.
The destruction was so much worse than it had looked from a distance. Worse than anything I could’ve imagined. Entire buildings had collapsed or had been flattened – no evidence they’d ever existed other than the shapeless rubble around me. Other buildings still stood, entire sections missing. Fronts and sides of houses sheered away, exposing the contents like a dolls house. Another had pieces of plane speared through the walls. Every window had been shattered, broken glass everywhere. It felt like a warzone. I ducked under the wing which had been torn away and rested on a building, creating a ramp to nowhere. The metal of the wing was icy cold to the touch. I kept going, stepping over more and more pieces of the downed plane.
I rounded a corner and saw the back section of the passenger section on its roof. Luggage was scattered everywhere, most had opened and spilt their contents. Clothes and other belongings moved in the breeze. The front half of the plane had rolled farther away, tearing a path through houses. Except my focus wasn’t on the destruction, but the people who fell from the wreckage. People had survived!
“Over here!” I shouted desperately and waved to them. They slowly turned to me and walked, most struggling to move. Leg and arm injuries covered most of them. They were covered in blood – fresh blood and not the blackened gore of the undead.
I carried on waving and they sped up. Getting faster even … on their broken legs and other injuries? Some crawled towards me! Then the obvious dawned on me, they were undead. All of them. There weren’t any survivors. There couldn’t be any survivors amongst the crowd or the undead would have turned on them first. I pulled up the SA80 and looked through the scope, magnifying and revealing how horrific their injuries truly were. What appeared to be scratches from a distance were open wounds with debris piercing them. Others had their chests caved in, or slit open like a pig at the slaughterhouse, their innards trailing behind them. Some had their throats torn out, like they’d been attacked by the undead.