The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Sounds like it. When things degenerate into chaos there’s a lot of temptation on those with guns to take things without asking. We all spent enough time in Afghanistan to know about that.”

  “Some of the men are wondering why we’re not giving in to that temptation ourselves. It’s been weeks since we received any orders. We’re alone out here.”

  Parker sighed. He wasn’t about to have this conversation. “We’re not about to start abusing our authority. It was people doing that which got the country into such a mess in the first place. If people had worked together instead of shunning one another we may be in better shape right now. We’re not about to start making things worse by tyrannising a bunch of scared people.”

  Cross nodded, seemingly satisfied. “So, where next, Sarge?”

  “Same as always,” Parker replied. “Forward.”

  ***

  The northern suburbs of Birmingham were deserted, exactly like Wolverhampton had been, and Stoke before that. People still existed in small pockets, but they were unseen like rats during the daytime. They scurried about at night, foraging for things they needed. It didn’t help that most people were terrified of the military now; Parker and his men driving around in a tank was a red flag to most survivors. It was hard work trying to help people that didn’t want to give you the chance.

  The last time they had found a substantial group of people was inside a pub in Wolverhampton city centre. There the men wore replica shirts of the local team and had brought along what was left of their families. The beer and atmosphere had made for a jovial atmosphere and Parker and his men had been welcomed for a round of drinks. It was funny that the only group of like-minded people had been brought together under the banner of a football team, while religion, ethnicity, and political affiliation had all failed to galvanise society. Parker guessed that the old saying that ‘football was the new religion was true.’

  Since moving on from that pub, Parker had encounter only loose fragments of humanity; some hostile, some friendly, but all afraid. Any attempts to find an organised group of people had been a failure. There was no Government, no emergency services; no order.

  The tank’s driver, Schumacher (real name Corporal Hollis), fizzed through on the radio. “We’re low on fuel,” he said. “Should I head for the nearest petrol station?”

  “Affirmative,” said Parker. “Take us back out to the main road. See if we can locate a supermarket or retail park.”

  “Roger that.”

  The tank gathered speed and adjusted its heading down a side-street that would lead them back to the duel carriageway. As they rounded the corner they approached a funeral pyre, stacked ten-deep with scorched bodies. It was not the shocking sight that it should have been, as several weeks back, the entire country had been lit up with similar bonfires of human flesh. When the military and police still had some semblance of control, they had gathered up the dead infected and set light to what was left of their putrid remains, hoping that to do so would be enough to stymie the spread of the virus. When it became known that the dead bodies of the infected were not contagious, it eventually stopped, continuing only in the city centres where the volume of corpses posed health risks regardless of the Peeling. Cholera was the country’s second-biggest epidemic.

  The Warrior trundled by the bodies without slowing down. Parker closed his eyes and tried not to hear the crunch of human bones beneath the tank’s caterpillar tracks. Sometimes it felt like the only sounds left in the world were ones of suffering and death: like the screams that randomly carried on the winds from time to time.

  Cross turned around from the gunner’s position and frowned at Parker. “Can’t believe we’ve been in England’s second city for three days now and the only people we’ve seen are those two kids we just passed.”

  Parker sighed. “I figure most people fled for the countryside to get away from the virus.”

  “Can’t blame them,” said Cross. “It would certainly smell better there at the very least. I don’t remember the last time I took a breath that didn’t make me feel like chucking my guts up.”

  Parker knew what he meant. The tang of death covered everything. The slithers of necrotic flesh coated the landscape like a new species of pungent moss. Bodies continued rotting in every building they had checked.

  “Maybe it’s time we moved on ourselves,” said Cross. “Gather supplies and try to set ourselves up somewhere in the sticks. We might have the wrong idea looking for people in need. It might be better to let them come to us.”

  Parker thought about it and found himself agreeing. “You might be right. Let’s find somewhere to fill up and we’ll re-strategize; figure out what’s best.”

  It was just starting to get dark when they came upon the supermarket.

  ***

  The supermarket’s abandoned petrol station was just off the main road, accessed by a roundabout. There was a collection of beat-up vehicles blocking the pumps, but they posed no problem for the Warrior’s winch. They shifted a tiny Citroen out of the way of a diesel pump and began to fill the tank. Private Michelle Anderson and Private Thomas Carp grabbed the half-dozen Jerry cans from the tank’s side storage and headed off towards the other pumps to fill them. The station’s petrol supply seemed to be fine and Parker was grateful that the military quarantine early on had included the restriction of vehicle use, and thus the country’s need for petrol.

  The forecourt’s single building, however, was a different story. Parker could see from several metres away that the petrol station’s small convenience store had been raided until only dust remained on its shelves. In the final few weeks before the panic had turned to quiet isolation, people had been desperate. Food, water, and perhaps even more importantly, alcohol, had become the world’s new currency. An unopened bottle of vodka had become more valuable than gold. Anything that could help a person blot out their pain and misery was the only luxury the world had left.

  “You think it’s worth checking out the supermarket?” Cross asked.

  “We’d be remiss not to,” said Parker. “You never know what we may find.”

  “Okay. The petrol tank is full so we can move out as soon as Carp and Anderson are done.

  Parker nodded and dismissed his Corporal. Then he took up his binoculars and pointed them at the Supermarket. It was situated at the far end of a large flat car park. Cars littered the various spaces and many sat unlocked with their doors hanging open.

  Parker’s eyes were drawn to something else, though. At the front of the supermarket’s main entrance was a stalled convoy of lorries and vans. They sat, end-to-end, in front of the building, blocking any way in through the front. It could turn out to be quite a challenge getting inside.

  Five minutes later, Carp and Anderson had secured the now-full Jerry cans back against the side of the Warrior, and were now back inside the tank’s troop space.

  Schumacher started up the engine and they got going, swivelling in the direction of the supermarket.

  ***

  “Who do you think positioned all these lorries here?” asked Cross. “And why?”

  Parker thought the answer was obvious. “They were put there by whoever is inside to keep people out.”

  Cross raised an eyebrow. “You think we got survivors in there?”

  Parker shrugged. “Probably not. Probably just a bunch of dead bodies now, but at some point there were people taking refuge here. It was a good idea to park the trucks in front of the entrance.”

  “Not so good for us,” said Cross. “How the hell are we supposed to get inside?”

  “Through the back, I’d imagine. Whoever parked the trucks would have had to get back inside somewhere. They probably left a back door clear. It would still be much easier to defend then the massive sets of automatic glass doors behind the trucks

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  Parker looked around and thought about it. There was a single lane access road that went alongside the supermarket; a road meant for d
eliveries. It would no doubt lead to the cargo area.

  “Wait here,” Parker said. I’ll go check it out. You hear anything, then follow me, but just keep watch here otherwise.”

  Parker headed off towards the access road, passed by the front of the building, and began a route down the side. It did indeed lead to a cargo area; a large paved area, big enough for an articulated lorry to turn around. Set against the building was a long, stretched-out platform that would line up with the rear bays of those lorries and allow people to roll out the stock directly into the building. The whole area was lined by a wire-mesh fence and backed onto a stretch of woodland. The space was currently empty.

  Up ahead, the wire-mesh fence looped around and cut across the access road. It was linked to a wide metal gate that could obviously be opened to allow lorry access or closed and locked to deny entry. Much to Parker’s dismay, it was currently closed and secured by an unusually large padlock. Parker considered whether or not the fence would sustain the weight of the Warrior if they attempted to drive through it.

  While Parker considered that notion, someone appeared to his left, high up and in the corner of his eyesight.

  “Hold it right there, Corporal Cockhead.”

  Parker looked up at the man on the roof and narrowed his eyes. “I’m a Sergeant actually, but you can call me Parker. Now, what’s the problem, friend?”

  The man leant further over the ledge of the building’s roof and Parker saw that he was holding a gas-powered nail gun. It was pointed right at Parker’s head. Parker’s own weapon was stowed in the Warrior.

  “You’re the one with a problem, Sergeant Shit-Stain. You and your men take that tank and just roll on out of here, you hear? This place belongs to us and we’re not following any more of your orders.”

  Parker shook his head. “What orders?”

  “Orders from you and your fucked-up outfit. Tell me, when did the British Army become a bunch of bandits and thieves?”

  “I’m not following you. My men and I are just looking for those in need. We’re still trying to protect the people of this country.”

  The man huffed, lowered his nail gun a quarter-inch, and said, “Yeah, right. Well, when you see your buddies, tell them that they aren’t taking any more of our food. Not after what they did. They’ll burn in hell for what they’ve done to Stella and the others.”

  Parker sighed and scratched a fingernail against the tip of his nose. “Who’s Stella? If I can understand what you are talking about then perhaps I can help.”

  The man shook the nail gun at Parker and scrunched up his face in anger. “Look, I’m not going to buy any of your bullshit so just get the hell out of here. There’re a dozen men inside this supermarket and they’re all ready for a fight – including Brad; the husband of the woman your buddies abducted and raped.”

  Parker put his hands in the air and begun backing away. It was obvious by the man’s angry and suspicious demeanour that the conversation could not be steered in a direction other than the one it was already on; and that seemed like a direction that would result in a three-inch nail in Parker’s forehead. It was unclear what had happened, but it was obvious the strange man was distrustful of the military – just like the two teenagers had been.

  “Okay, we’ll leave,” said Parker. “We’re not looking for any trouble. You and your people just take care of yourselves.”

  Parker headed back around to the front of the building where his men were waiting patiently. Corporal Cross nodded to him as he approached. “Find anything?”

  Parker shrugged. “Just a nervous guy with a nail gun. I figured it was best to just leave him be.”

  “Are you kidding me? He could have a supermarket full of supplies in there. We should just take him down; it’s only one man.”

  Parker shook his head. “He told me there was another dozen men inside, not to mention the woman and children there may be.”

  “Bullshit,” said Cross. “He’s just saying that to scare us off.”

  “Look,” said Parker, a sternness to his voice. “We have no more right to this place than he does, and we have no way to know if there is anyone inside. People are already beginning to fear the military and I’ll be damned if I allow my actions to add to that.”

  Cross sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you’re the boss. So what do you want to do? You said we’d discuss it.”

  Parker let out a sigh and craned his neck to look back at the looming monolith of the brick supermarket. “I think the people inside there need our help, but they aren’t about to accept it willingly.”

  “So we should leave them to it, then

  Parker shook his head. “No. I think we should set up nearby and keep an eye on things. Maybe we can find out what’s going on. Apparently there is another outfit in the area.”

  Crossly raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s Bristow’s unit?”

  Parker shrugged. “Who knows? I’m guessing it’s somebody else, but we won’t know unless we hang around.”

  “Roger that. There’s a grass verge at the edge of the car park. We could set up camp there amongst the trees.”

  “Do it,” said Parker. Best do it now while the ground is dry. Could be raining later.”

  Cross glanced up at the grey sky and nodded. “More than likely.”

  ***

  With the CVRT crew shelter set up (a large four-person tent) Parker lit his gas lamp beneath a mess tin full of beans. Their rations had been affording them perhaps a thousand calories a day and it was starting to show. His men were visibly tired and the barrel chests of the men and the voluptuous bosom of Anderson had shrunk back against their ribcages. He himself must have dropped more than two stone since things began. They would need to find supplies soon – real supplies.

  Like what they may have inside that supermarket.

  Parker couldn’t deny that the thought of storming the building and taking what they needed by force was tempting, and maybe even sensible, but there was still a part of him that would not allow him to use aggression against British citizens. His body may have been wasting away, but his morals were as strong as ever. Parker held on tightly to that fact.

  Schumacher took a seat beside him, the man’s face overgrown with thick black stubble. “You okay, Sarge? You look like you remembered you just left the oven on.”

  Parker laughed. “I wish my problems were as simple as that. I miss worrying about the stupid, little things, you know?”

  “Sure I do. I even miss having to clean the toilet. Now I don’t even own a toilet to keep clean and it makes me sad. I miss the smell of bleach and air freshener and window polish and everything else that makes a home smell like a home. Now all I ever smell is shit and death and fear. I don’t even remember what my wife’s perfume smells like anymore. Shit, towards the end, no perfume in the world would have been strong enough, anyway, to get rid of the stench of her…well, you know?”

  Parker thought about the flesh destroying evil of the Peeling and nodded. He had lost people to it as well. They all had. “We’ll get it all back one day, Schumacher. Eventually people will come out of hiding and start working together again. All of this paranoia – looting and stealing and killing one another – it has to stop eventually.

  “I hope so, Sarge, because to tell you the truth, I’m beginning to lose sight of what the hell we’re fighting for.”

  Parker shook his head. Schumacher sounded just like Corporal Cross. “We can’t abandon people that need us. If we do, then you’re absolutely right: there’s no point in fighting. But we aren’t going to do that. We’re going to show people that there are still those of us that have remembered who we are. We’re all still human beings.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Schumacher said and left it at that.

  The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes until the others joined them. Carp and Cross sat opposite, while Anderson worked on constructing a single birth tent to separate her from the men at night while they slept. Parker’s men
were the perfect gentlemen, but some habits died hard, and somehow it seemed important to Anderson that she kept her female identity intact.

  Parker leant back on the grass verge and looked up at the sky. It was getting dark and the clouds were slowly disappearing into the velvet background of a starry night. The thickness of the air suggested rain and perhaps even a storm was approaching. Parker hoped so. Despite the difficulties that bad weather brought, particularly when travelling, it had a cleansing effect on the world. It washed away the blood from the streets and dampened down the rotting stench of bodies. It swept away the rotting humanity and replaced it with the pureness of nature. Yes, Parker enjoyed the rain.

  “Want to play a round?” Carp asked.

  “Sure,” Parker said, knowing the game that Carp was suggesting. Every night they would all name one thing that they wished to find most in the rubble of what was once England.

  “Okay,” said Carp. “I’ll start. I wish I could find a…piano. I really got a hankering for a bit of Elton John. Don’t let the sun go down on me.”

  “You play piano?” said Parker. “I never knew that.”

  “Guess there’s a lot about each other we don’t know. Probably never will. Playing the piano now is about as useless a skill as there is.”

  “I disagree,” said Parker. “I think it’s more important that you realise. When we come across a piano, you’re going to play for us all. All night long.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Carp grinned.

  “Okay,” said Schumacher, “me next. I want to find…a jar of paprika. God, I miss a bit of spice on my food. I’d mix it right in with Parker’s beans and swallow ‘em down whole.”

  Parker felt his mouth water. He’d never thought about seeking out spices and condiments, but now it seemed like such an obvious thing. It was a small luxury that they could still have in the world.

  “What about you, Anderson?” Carp shouted across at the female Private as she finished up erecting her tent.

  She turned around and wrinkled her face as she thought about it. “Erm…I guess I would like to find…a bodybuilding calendar. I’m tired of looking at your skinny asses all the time.”