Eventually he let out an “aaarghhhh!” and flopped into his favourite chair, tossing the stompie onto the coffee table. I stayed on the ground for a minute, wondering what he wanted me to do. Slowly I got to my feet and walked past him to my bedroom. I went into my cupboard and retrieved the box of cigarettes from my shoe. I opened it and saw three tempting yellow and white tubes. I took it through to the lounge, picked up the stompie from the coffee table, got the lighter from the side of the couch, put that in the box too and crunched it with all my might. I took it outside and threw it in the bin, making sure that it wouldn’t be visible to my Mom. When I went back inside my Dad had vacated his chair and I could hear him in the kitchen. I went through and sat at the table. He turned around and asked me how my day had been. We didn’t talk about what had happened earlier in the day that evening, or ever come to think of it, and I don’t think he even ever told my Mom. That’s the kind of guy he was. I love you Dad. And I’ll miss you forever.
Sam
4:58, June 9
It was a nice warm day today (eventually as I have been freezing my little behind off) and the battery got a really good charge. I lay outside for the first time in ages in jeans (rolled up – I looked hot…) and a T-shirt. I could only last half an hour as it was pretty damn hot in the sun. My nose is a bright pink too, not that there is anyone to see it.
Spoke to my Mom. She is doing as good as can be expected. Me, I hear you ask? Well, I’m also doing better. I don’t think you can ever come to terms with losing someone that close to you, but I am trying. And I am at peace with him leaving.
I’ve been chatting a bit to Chris over the last few days – here’s our correspondence (with his permission, of course). Interesting developments…
Original message:
From: Sam Ward [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: 05 June 2009 06:13 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Latest developments
Hey Chris,
You doing okay? Not too much news here – monitoring my food situation and I probably have about 10 days left of good eating before I have to go scavenging around the complex again. I know that eventually I’ll exhaust the offerings here and will have to head out ‘there’ but that’s a few months away, at least. Hopefully...
Had a scare this morning when one of my ‘alarm signals’ went off. Just after this whole thing happened I set up a few traps so that I could be alerted if any of ‘them’ were near. I’d almost forgotten about them until this morning when I heard a loud clanking of cans coming from downstairs outside below my kitchen window. What I had done a couple of weeks ago was string a row of cans (on fish gut) 15 or so centimetres above the ground, across the entrance to the steps. I had seen them move and noticed that they don’t really lift their feet – if I had a hundred rand note for every time that I saw one of them tripping over a pavement, I would have a permanent smile on my face – so I couldn’t see them being sneaky enough to step over the cans.
So I was just lying there on my couch reading a book – it was probably just after 10am – when I heard cans rattling. I jumped up and it took me quite a while before I actually realised what was going on. When I eventually clicked I sprinted to the spare room window (better view of the area than the kitchen) and peeked through a gap in the curtains. There were two of them, one a teenage boy – filthy and completely naked – poor bastard, I’m freezing and I have four layers on – and a woman probably in her thirties with a seriously bad ‘brush cut’ and wearing dungarees. Well he was on the ground tangled up in the cans and gut, trying aimlessly and randomly to free himself, while she, oblivious to his struggles, was looking up the stairs. Towards my front door. Shit, I thought, I’ve been discovered. I was just about to go grab my nail gun – which I should have picked up originally on my way to the room... I’ll never forget it now… I thought that maybe I would be able to stop them before they called any others. If they could? Don’t know if they can communicate? But anyways, as I was about to turn I caught sight of a black blur out of the corner of my eyes. The blur, originally at the top of the stairs was quickly past the two of them and over the opposite garden wall. Hell. It was just a cat. That’s what they were after – not me. I let out a huge sigh of relief as Brush Cut and Naked Boy, dragging a row of five beer cans noisily behind him, went after the cat in their laboured fashion. The cat, not cornered anymore, stretched its back and hopped onto the wall. In a flash it was on the carport and headed to safety. Brush Cut let out a horrible, loud grunt as they followed, still hopeful. I pulled the curtain back and got back to my book, my pulse slowly returning to normal!
Be in touch,
Sam
From: Chris
Sent: 05 June 2009 10:49 PM
To: Sam Ward
Subject: Re: Latest developments
No fucking way man! That’s pretty damn close! But those things will eat anything – as I said before, I’ve seen them chowing squirrels, ducks, frogs, everything.
Same old, same old here – no news. The stream of zombies seems to have slowed down since the first weeks – now I might see one or two a day, when before I could have spotted at least one from my balcony whenever I looked out.
Food wise I’m really good – I went out the day before yesterday and got whatever food I could from units 20 to 24. I’ve already done 1 to 19. Oh, there are 50 units in the complex so I’m probably halfway through my reserves, but there’s an almost identical complex right next door, so I reckon about another 50 houses worth of food. But you know what I’d kill for man? A fucking huge cheese burger! Dude… a fresh roll… fresh meat… MAN!!! That would complete me, man. You know, I’ll eat whatever it takes to keep me alive, but I’m getting sick and fucking tired of this pre-cooked, processed crap. I never was one for veggies or fruit, but fuck it, I’d even order a vegetarian pizza if I could.
Cheers
Chris
From: Chris
Sent: 07 June 2009 11:12 AM
To: Sam Ward
Subject: Re: Re: Latest developments
Hey man – haven’t heard from you since Friday. It’s now Sunday and we said we’d keep in touch every day. I don’t want to get all optimistic about – no wait, I always get fucking confused… I think I meant pessimistic. The bad one. Well I don’t want to get all pessimistic about it, but I hope that everything is okay. I know you usually only check your mails after the battery has charged up during the day so I will wait until tonight before I start worrying.
Cheers – hope all is cool
Chris
From: Sam Ward [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: 07 June 2009 21:27 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Latest developments
Hey. Sorry about that. It’s just that my Dads gone missing. Well, that’s not exactly true. He left the place where he was holed up in with my Mom and some of their friends. He just lost it and left. So I think… I know that he’s… you know…
Not up to writing now. Sorry
Sam
From: Chris
Sent: 07 June 2009 21:51 PM
To: Sam Ward
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Latest developments
Shit, sorry to hear that man. Really, I am seriously sorry. Wish there was something I could do. That’s not on. Hope that he is okay, even if you are thinking the worst.
And sorry to go on about something else when you have all that on your plate, but there is something that I’ve got to tell you. I came across this on the web – the website – www.safetyinnumbers.co.za was live when I found it earlier but I fucking can’t get on there anymore. Please try when you feel up to it – I want to know if it’s legit… But here’s what it said anyway:
ANYBODY OUT THERE. WE CAN HELP. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF SETTING UP A WALLED COMMUNITY OUTSIDE OF BLOEMFONTEIN WHERE WE WILL BE WORKING ON A CURE FOR THE DISEASE THAT HAS GRIPPED AND SHAKEN APART THE WORLD. IF YOU ARE ABLE T
O HELP IN ANY WAY, OR JUST NEED SAFETY AND SHELTER, WE ARE HERE FOR YOU.
SAFETY IN NUMBERS
What do you think, man? Could this be real? Let me know what you think when you feel up to it.
Sorry again dude.
Chris
From: Sam Ward [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: 08 June 2009 08:08 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Latest developments
Hey Chris,
Can’t be on for too long – need to recharge the UPS. Thanks – still can’t stop going over everything in my head, but it was his choice and I am sure that he had his reasons. I just wish I knew what they were.
But anyways, that sounds really interesting. I tried the www.safetyinnumbers.co.za website, but no luck on my side. How far is Bloem from here? Three hundred kilometres? Four hundred kilometres? Hey, it’s always an option – could get there in about 4 or 5 hours depending on the state of the roads. It’s worth thinking about if things get too bad here. Okay, gotta go but will catch up later.
Sam
So that’s what’s been going on – that whole Bloemfontein thing sounds ideal – a place to restart humanity… that’s sounds like a terrible payoff line for a B-grade horror movie. But what I’m worried about, is say that we decide to go, and we make it all the way to Bloemfontein – I think the roads will be a nightmare though with cars littered everywhere and tons of the infected to dodge – but say we get there safely, and there’s nothing. No community, no shelter, no food, nothing. I don’t know if I would be able to go on after all of that…
I can understand why Bloem was chosen though, it makes sense – have you ever been there? It’s in the middle of nowhere! I don’t know the geography, but I think its a few hundred kilometres from any other major town or city – I don’t even know why it is where it is. I once flew there with my Mom to visit her sister who moved there to work in the architecture department at the University of the Free State (it’s a big, impressive place, the university – unfortunately can’t say the same about the city). But it’s an hour and a half flight from Jo’burg, and I sat next to the window. Once we were out of Jo’burg, I didn’t see any major signs of civilization, apart from the odd farmhouse or small farm stall for at least forty five minutes. I couldn’t believe it. And then when I was there, my Mom’s sister, Aunt Bev, stayed on the edge of town. And when I say edge of town, I mean edge of town. It just bloody stops… on the one side of the street are houses, schools, sports fields, shops, and on the other side… nothing. Just empty, barren land as far as you could see. That was freaky. Having lived in a city all my life, and especially in Johannesburg which basically blends into Midrand which flows into Centurion which becomes Pretoria, that was a very strange thing to see.
So Bloemfontein makes sense – I think it’s pretty central in the country (I suddenly wish I had paid more attention at school) and it’s secluded. If the infected want to walk a couple of hundred kilometres from the nearest towns and cities, then good luck to them. If they make it without food and water in the searing arid, desert-like conditions, then I suppose they deserve to have a go at you.
See ya
Sam W
5:32pm, June 11
Man, Chris is serious about this Bloemfontein thing! He’s ready to come pick me up immediately! Well, almost. He is really keen, but after a couple of emails back and forth we decided to put it on the back burner a bit. We both agreed that we would need more confirmation that there was actually something worth going there for – the website is still unavailable so we don’t know if this ‘compound’ or whatever is up and running or just a pipedream. I’m not sure if I want to risk my life any more than I have to just for a pipedream. I’ll keep you informed.
Otherwise, the warm weather of a couple days ago is a thing of the past – the cold has come back even worse than before and I am struggling to type with frozen fingers. It’s not a fashion show, I know, but today I was dressed in two pairs of pants, one over the other, and four layers on top – a thin long sleeve shirt, then my favourite shirt, my The Killers one from the UK (ironic, I know), a thickish Quicksilver jersey and then a black hoodie. And I’m still cold.
Keep warm
Sam W
7:20pm, June 14
I got bored today so I went out scavenging again, managing to cross another five units off the list – today I went to 32, 33, 34, 35 and 36. First stop was number 32 – the unit with the gleaming white Audi R8 parked in its parking space – so after my usual routine of surveying the area for as long as I could without falling asleep, I decided to go – nail gun for protection and screwdriver for entry – close at hand. I started at 32 with one thing in mind – even if there was no food, I would be happy with the keys for the R3. I mean, if I’m going to Bloemfontein in the future, what better way to get there? I got the keys, but that wasn’t the most interesting thing about unit 32. At all.
I unscrewed the door handle in super quick time and eased the door open, having one long look back out before I slipped inside with my nail gun at the ready. But then I almost dropped it. I found myself in the middle of… I don’t know… the 80s? A porn film? There was leopard print everywhere – the couches, the carpet, the curtains, the g-string dangling from an oversized lamp in the corner of the lounge. And then, smack bang in the middle of the room, there it was. A stripper’s pole.
I think that they were running a brothel from the flat. Just a few hundred metres from where I slept every night. How weird is that? Apart from the lingerie randomly strewn around the entrance, kitchen and living room (including a latex nurse outfit), the small bar area, including a cocktail table and bar fridge and the amount of condoms and lubrication gel lying around were dead giveaways. Insane. What would I have done if I had known about this before? Would I have gone? Definitely not once I had met Lil. But before that? Maybe. But maybe not, I mean I had only been to a strip club once, and that was for a mate’s bachelors evening, and even then it seemed like a sleazy, underground, unpalatable side of life that didn’t quite appeal to me. It’s just odd knowing that, inside my quiet, little, middle class townhouse complex, surrounded by young families with cute toddlers and elderly couples who watered and spoke to their roses and geraniums, was a unit where men lived out their fantasies. Weird.
After coming to terms with what lay before my eyes, I suddenly thought about what I maybe couldn’t see. In my shock I had put the nail gun down on the kitchen counter – on top of a bra which had open areas for the nipples – without even considering that there may have been one or more of the infected still in the apartment. I quickly grabbed it (the nail gun, not the bra) and poked my head into each room, each one out doing the next in terms of cheesiness. The main bedroom had a thick, deep red carpet, the mandatory leopard print bedding and a ceiling made up only of mirrors. The spare room wasn’t too bad, if you ignored all the bondage gear – whips, chains, leather and latex lingerie, handcuffs and the scariest, biggest frikking dildo I have ever seen. But it was the bathroom which got me. I nudged the door open, nail gun at the ready, and noted the furry pink toilet seat cover. Nice. The all black tiles were also different, but I must admit that it did look pretty nice with the sleek chrome taps and towel rails and the rest. But it was the disco ball in the middle of the ceiling that had me in fits of laughter. Very, very weird.
But anyway, I knew that there wouldn’t be too much of use in number 32 for me, unless I was into cross-dressing (which I am not), so I busied myself trying to find the car keys for the R8. I eventually found them, between the cushions of the three-seater leopard print couch (I felt a few other things down there which I seriously do not want to know what they were), helped myself to a few packets of peanuts and raisins – the only food to be found anywhere in the unit, and a stack of AA and AAA batteries, which were, presumably for the monster dildo and the other varieties of sex toys that I found in the spare room. I also grabbed a tube of lube (not for that reason…) ‘cos you never k
now when you might need it. Honestly.
I had a quick swing around the stripper pole, let myself out and sniggered as I put the handle back on the door. As the proud new owner of a new Audi R8, registration XXG 189 GP, I moved onto the next unit, hoping for better luck. And as it turned out, Number 33 was definitely better, and I left there with my bag bulging. After sifting through the post left haphazardly on the small, scratched oak and glass coffee table in the middle of the sparsely decorated lounge, I came to the conclusion that Jim and Dorothy Deftereos where in financial difficulties – final notices on credit cards and clothing accounts dominated their post, but thankfully this did not stop them from splurging on food. They must have loved their chocolate, because there were three or four of nearly every kind I could think of in the top drawer in the kitchen – you know, the one usually reserved for cutlery. Snickers, Bar One, Tex, Lunch Bar, Inside Story, Kit Kat – they were all there. While I searched the rest of the kitchen I dug into a Flake – I hadn’t had one of those in years.
The Infected Page 9