The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle

by David K. Roberts

  “Yes,” Rob said, licking his lips in anticipation.

  “I think we’re going to have to toss a coin to see who drives.” While they fished for a coin, Janet slipped past them and got decisively into the driver’s seat, waiting for them to notice.

  “Come on, children. And Penny, Sam.” She smiled endearingly at the two grown men focusing on what she considered unimportant, especially in the circumstances. The kids got in, Rob joining them on the back seat. Daniel got in the front, next to the boss. She turned the key and the engine roared into life.

  “We’ll dodge the high street,” she said, turning left. Janet was enjoying the slalom ride, dodging witless, slow-moving Infected, riding onto the pavement to avoid colliding with abandoned vehicles. Several fires had broken out and, on more than one occasion, they had to reverse back out of a street that appeared, itself, to be completely engulfed in roaring flames, no emergency services in evidence. The only other car they had seen was going so fast that it leapt off the road at the first corner it encountered, and ploughed into a row of terraced houses. The resulting explosion caused a fireball that raced between the properties; someone must have left the gas on.

  The occupants of the houses stumbled out, their clothes ablaze, making no effort to escape the flames that finally pulled them to the ground. Clearly they had all been infected.

  “We’re screwed, aren’t we?” Daniel said quietly to Janet. It was as if they were the only people in the world not infected. She didn’t reply, not trusting herself not to cry at what they had just witnessed.

  Stunned into silence by the horrific spectacle, they drove on their way. As they arrived in Mottingham dozens of horses could be seen roaming the streets. “Look, they must have escaped from the riding school,” Janet commented. One unfortunate creature had succumbed to the zombies; it was lying by the side of the road, at least a dozen undead swarmed over it, eating it. For a species with very poorly developed teeth, not designed for tearing uncooked flesh directly from an animal, the Infected certainly bore a strong resemblance to a pack of voracious carnivores, as they ripped into the beast. One was even crawling into the horse’s chest cavity, looking for remnants of the softer parts. Little Penny turned away, quelling the sudden nausea; she loved horses, hence the little pink horse motif on her shoes.

  The whole high street was ablaze, the air thick with acrid smoke. Janet sealed the AC so it recycled air, as they drove the final hundred yards to their house. Turning into their street, they knew at once it was pointless to consider staying; more than half the street was ablaze. Some of the houses were already charred husks, smouldering embers all that was left; blackened masses, looking suspiciously like the remains of bodies, were scattered around. As they arrived at their own house, they could see smoke escaping through the roof. It, too, would soon be only a memory. There was no-one in the street, no-one watching, no-one trying to stop the fire. Not a soul.

  Daniel turned to face the group, he’d made a unilateral decision. “Stay in the car. I’m going in to get our passports and some spare clothes. We’re coming to the airport with you, Rob.”

  “Let me come with you,” Janet called as he got out of the car.

  “No, it could be too dangerous for us both. Wait, please,” he looked despairingly at her. She closed the car door once more, and watched as her husband risked himself for a bunch of documents and some clothes. What was the point, she wondered, understanding the force that compelled his action, even thought there was no logic to the decision. Chances were that there wouldn’t be an aeroplane for them to take to get away, that was a pipe dream; if the airport hadn’t already been overrun by these creatures. All she could envision at this point was nightmare after nightmare, with no end in sight.

  He knew as he entered the house he had made a mistake. Didn’t the fire department always frown on such reckless behaviour? As it was he could barely see to the end of the hallway, let alone into the kitchen. He felt his way up the stairs, crawling into their bedroom. Finding the dressing table, and rummaging through the drawers, he finally came up trumps, his hand clutched the passports. The air was becoming progressively more dense with smoke, forcing him to hold his breath until it hurt before releasing and drawing in more foul air. There was no point in trying to get any clothes or other belongings together, so he just turned and made his way quickly back downstairs. He could barely see, tears welling up, not just from the effect of the smoke. His lungs hurt, it was a struggle to breathe; the smoke was beginning to overpower him. With little time to spare, and determined to get some food for the kids, he ran into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of packs of biscuits, and some cheese from the fridge. Better than nothing, he figured. Running back outside, he locked the door and pocketed the key. Habits die hard. A big empty pit opened up inside him, realising that they were leaving behind everything that represented their lives together; their home, their car, everything they called their own, including their dreams.

  Getting back into the Range Rover, he couldn’t look Janet in the eye; she floored the accelerator, and they sped away. Her expression was grim, the same thoughts as Daniel going through her mind. With nothing to hold them down now, she would follow Daniel, wherever that was to be.

  Chapter 13

  Would the Last One Out Please Turn Out the Lights?

  They sat in silence for a good deal of the journey out of London. Once they had cleared what had been civilisation, and made their way to the M25 motorway, Janet pulled over. She had started sobbing, uncontrollably shaking with raw emotion, forehead resting on the steering wheel. Daniel was close to doing the same. If someone had poked him at that moment, he would have succumbed to his own emotions. They had just lost everything, watched it catch fire; their whole neighbourhood destroyed, right before their eyes.

  Seeing the grown-up in the front of the car break down, little Penny began to sob quietly. It was hearing her gentle mewling that brought Janet out of her fugue. Looking up again, she turned to Daniel.

  “Sorry about that. Can you drive?” She wiped her face dry. If they weren’t in such a dangerous place, he would have held her until she felt better. Now wasn’t the time to lose it; he could see the dead walking around the abandoned cars, gnawing on unidentifiable human spare parts, their interest not focused on their car, for the moment, but that would soon change.

  “Sure.” He looked around outside the vehicle, and saw the coast was clear. He drew his pistol, just in case. Running around the car to each other’s door, they climbed back in, slamming the doors quickly and locking them.

  Daniel took a deep breath and drove off, maintaining a steady pace, weaving in and out of the stationary traffic, dodging the odd zombie. It was slow work, but at least they were making progress. As the infection, or whatever it was, had struck early in the day, the traffic had remained light; a lot of the sick had remained home, leaving enough space for them to pass relatively easily. A few times they’d had to drive up the grassy banks alongside the motorway, but for the Range Rover, this was child’s play.

  They were now on the final stretch, the M23, the main road that led down to Gatwick Airport. They had been lucky so far, seeing almost no-one, or at least no-one that posed a threat; the road had remained passable. Much to their relief, they could just see the buildings of the airport come into view. They were within a couple of hundred yards of the turnoff that would lead them to the terminals, only to discover the road blocked by several large coaches, three of which had rolled onto their sides. Bodies were scattered around; they had been discovered by large, swirling, black flocks of crows which were, at that moment, celebrating the unexpected road kill they now had access to.

  “Don’t look, kids,” Janet said, turning around to occupy their attention. Daniel weaved his way through the mess; smoke was rising from a couple of the coaches, the accident still had a fresh feel to it. It couldn’t have happened more than half an hour ago, judging by the colour of the blood on the tarmac. Ambulances and police vehicles were on the scene, th
eir blue lights flashing.

  “Look, emergency services. Maybe this thing hasn’t hit this area hard, yet.” Rob was surprised to see them; they were the first blue lights they had seen all day, and it was now five thirty in the afternoon.

  As they drew nearer to the ambulances, two zombies unexpectedly stepped out of the back of one, and stared at the approaching 4x4. In life they had been medics, their green uniforms with reflective stripes usually bringing hope to a catastrophe. This time, they had become part of the horror. They stood in the path of the only way through the mess. Both appeared to have received gunshot wounds to their torsos, hence why they still walked. Daniel drew his pistol, ready for anything. He could hear Rob do the same.

  “I don’t want to run them over,” Daniel said, not taking his eyes off the creatures. “If they cripple the car, we’ll still have about three more miles to walk to the airport, and possible safety.” These two appeared belligerent, intent on standing their ground.

  “Do you want to shoot one each?” Rob asked. “Probably the only solution.”

  “You can’t shoot medics!” Janet interjected.

  “You know that’s not what they are now, Janet. Look at them. You can see it in their eyes; these guys want to kill us, eat us, whatever it is they do to their victims,” Daniel looked at her, “for all the good they have done in their careers, the best thing we can do is to put them down. I tell you right now, if I become one of those things, I want you to finish me. I don’t want to wander around, attacking and eating people.”

  “Really? You’d want that?” she asked, horrified.

  “Hell, yeah. Please.” Daniel looked into her eyes, making sure she could see that he was serious.

  “I don’t know if I could do that.”

  “Uh, guys,” Rob interjected. “I think the point is moot. They’re coming at us. And they’re fast.” They had begun to run at the car.

  “Okay. You ready?” Rob asked.

  “Yep,” Daniel said, checking his gun was cocked.

  “On the count of three, open your window, and take out the one on the right. I’ll do the other. Remember to aim for the head.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Daniel said, and chuckled dryly, absent of humour.

  “Yeah, right.” Rob recognised the redundancy of his statement. “Okay, one, two, three.” They both wound down their windows, and leaned out. The two dead running at them were quick; they ran towards the car so fast, it was hard to get a bead on them, let alone hit their heads. Daniel fired and was lucky; his was thrown up and backwards with the force of the round. It crashed to the ground and lay still. Rob hit his target in the neck, causing it to check its advance for a moment. It came on once more, and the second round hit it between the eyes. What passed for life left the body, and it skidded to a halt by Rob’s door.

  Daniel had turned to cover Rob’s side, just in case he was needed, and seeing the success, turned back to close his window. A man was standing there, hands on the window ledge.

  “Whoa!” he exclaimed in surprise, leaning away from the window in reflex. There was blood all over the man’s white shirt, his chinos were also badly stained, but in spite of this, Daniel recognised the fact that he hadn’t been injured, or bitten; the blood was someone else’s.

  “Help me,” the man struggled to say. He looked terrified, and was obviously trying to communicate with Daniel, but no sound came out when he spoke.

  Daniel unlocked the doors, and ordered him into the back, with the kids and Rob. The man didn’t need telling a second time, and climbed in, the kids scooting over to give him room. Daniel looked at Rob, his eyes signalling him to cover this new threat. He moved his pistol around, bringing it to bear on the stranger.

  Introductions of secondary importance at that moment, Daniel drove forward once more, and after a few yards travel, they were clear of the crash site. Turning off the motorway, he followed the signs to the airport, aiming for the north terminal, from where most flights to the USA departed.

  “So, who are you?” Rob asked.

  “I’m American Embassy staff, a diplomat,” he replied, fishing in his shirt pocket for his passport. He handed it to Rob with shaking hands. “You’re American?”

  “Yep, and it appears from your passport, that you are too.” He looked more closely at the new passenger. “Were you on the way to Gatwick?”

  “Yeah. We were being ordered back to the USA, on a chartered flight that we probably missed by now.”

  “What happened?”

  “Some of the people on the buses seemed to go crazy, attacking people, the driver. The whole convoy just smashed together. The bus I was in flipped onto its side, and I was thrown clear of the wreckage, fortunately for me. There were quite a few survivors, but some of them just kept attacking and… biting. They looked like they were eating people. God.” He shook his head, reliving the memory.

  “How did you survive?”

  “Some Brit cops and medics came, and tried to help. They arrived quickly, but they were attacked. They fought for a while, but they started turning, and attacking each other. It was horrible. I hid under a corpse, until I heard your engine.” He paused, remembering the horror. “Then those two got in front of you, and you stopped. I knew that was my chance to get out of there.”

  “You were goddam lucky we stopped, we nearly didn’t.” Rob said.

  “I know, I sure as heck wouldn’t have. Where are you going?”

  “We’re aiming for the airport. I need to get back to Colorado. My wife.”

  “ ‘Nuff said. Me too. Mine’s in Seattle.” He thought for a moment. “I have diplomatic status, I can get us through security. If the plane’s still there, I can probably get you on it. I think quite a few seats became available recently,” he said wryly.

  “We want to go too, there appears to be nothing here for us now.” Daniel spoke up. He and Janet were orphans, one of the many things that bound them together. As a result, they had few emotional ties to a country that was fading fast, under the siege of infection. This guy’s status might just get them a way out of England, with Rob as their sponsor. It’s not like they could just go home after dropping the two Yanks off at the airport.

  “What, all of you? You’re Brits, right?” he remembered his manners, “I’m Joe Byron, by the way.”

  “Hi Joe. Yes, all of us, except Rob. None of us are infected. In fact, you’re the only normal person we’ve seen all day. As for being Brits, I’m not sure national boundaries count for much anymore, this seems to be a worldwide thing from what we can tell.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I have the authority to assist, it depends on what we find at the airport. Considering you saved my life, I am really happy to try and return the favour.”

  “Thanks, Joe. I’m Daniel, or Danny if you prefer. This is my wife, Janet. The kids are Penny and Sam. And of course, your fellow countryman, Rob.”

  “Nice to meet you all.” He slumped back in his seat at that point, exhausted from the constant adrenaline rush that had enabled him to survive.

  They had just passed the South Terminal, and could see chaotic scenes as they drove by, people running and screaming. A few hundred yards ahead of them on the road, someone was running like the devil was behind him. In fear of being caught, he climbed onto the protective side barrier, and jumped from the overpass they were travelling on; the fall had to be some fifty feet to the tarmac below. It was a last ditch effort to evade capture by three walking dead, who, running behind him, were emitting primitive moans, their bodies shuddering with the spasms of excitement as they closed upon their prey. No hesitation in their stride, they followed the man over the side; no-one in the Range Rover saw what happened to any of them.

  The North Terminal loomed ahead, and they followed the winding roads that eventually led them to the upper level of the building, towards the check-in area. Tyres screeching on the bends as the 4x4 made its way up the slope, where eventually they were denied access to the final hundred yards, their way blocked by
two cars, entangled in what must have been a high speed head on collision. One of the drivers was part way through the windscreen; she was moving slowly back and forth, jaw mouthing something known only to herself. She was clearly in the later stages of being undead. The other driver was on the side of the road, his abdomen opened to the sky, birds arguing over the soft matter that was now exposed to their ravenous appetite.

  “Looks like we’re going to have to do the last bit on foot,” Daniel said, “Are you all ready to run? It isn’t far. You okay, kids?”

  Penny was rigid, wide-eyed with fear. Her brother squeezed her, his arm around her shoulders, trying to offer reassurance. Janet put her hand out and stroked Penny’s cheek. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s okay in the terminal. I’ll stay with you, don’t be frightened.” Despite the terrible circumstances, her words were having the desired effect, Penny was relaxing a little.

  “Come on guys, let’s do this,” Rob urged.

  Reluctantly leaving the relative safety of the car, they made their way, in a protective cluster, towards the large glass front of the building. A few dead were walking around, aimlessly shuffling, some dragging their luggage with them, as if they had somewhere to go. There was no doubt among the survivors, that these diseased, the walking dead, did retain some semblance of their former existence.

  Arriving at the entrance, they discovered a pair of policemen, wearing stab vests and sporting pistols and rifles, standing there, watching the concourse.

  “Thank God,” Joe said, and began to walk over to them. Their backs were to him as he strode over, waving his red, diplomatic passport. Arriving, he tapped one on the shoulder to get his attention. “Officers,” he began, and that was when the rest of the sentence came out still-born.

  The head of the one he tapped on the shoulder turned so fast, it was a wonder it stayed connected to the neck. Bloody saliva sprayed from its mouth, flecking the diplomat’s face. It stared at him, its swollen tongue grotesquely licking its lips in anticipation. It appeared to be trying to smile as it turned around to face the hapless man. The second one turned more slowly, its eyes, although similar in opacity, seeming duller, more vacant. Its lower jaw was missing, the tongue partially chewed off.