The Dust: The Zombie Apocalypse in Ireland

by Jonathan Lynch

  I took the phone with me and hobbled upstairs to my bedroom and retrieved my digital watch from the shelf. When I saw that its display matched the one from the phone my stomach tightened. According to the date on the both of them I had been asleep for five days. I flopped down onto my bed and rubbed my eyes.

  I thought back to when I was at the medical centre, then driving through the massacres on the streets, and then onto the crazy dreams. They all felt so fresh as though they had just happened hours earlier. The last memory I had was drifting in and out of consciousness and dreaming about the rat man while sweating on the chair. But after that everything was blank.

  A five day coma!

  I must have sleepwalked to the bathroom to try and take a piss and collapsed on the floor and soiled myself instead. Or maybe I did make it, and delirium from the fever was blocking my memory? Either way I still pissed myself and thinking about it wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

  The cordless phone beeped twice in my hand and then died. I threw it on the bed behind me, left my room, and went back downstairs to the sitting room. The television was as dead as the phone, and after trying the lights in vain I realised that the electricity had been cut. I sat down on the sofa and tried to calm my racing mind.

  Lauren and my grandmother had been gone for five days. Five days! All forms of communication were dead, and I had been too, temporarily at least. In that time Lauren or the clinic could have been trying to contact me somehow. But when they got no reply maybe they assumed that I had died and become one of those things roaming the streets with the rats? But then I thought differently.

  The phone had showed no signs of any missed calls or voicemails, assuming that the lines had been put back on, which I doubted they had been. And I doubted that the armed forces were making door to door calls to guys like me informing them that their families were alive and well and awaiting my collection.

  No fucking way!

  I had watched the ones who had been trained to stay alive under attack die in the streets in such horrific scenes. If there were any of them left, I was sure that they thought people like me were long gone. As hopeless as it seemed I still had to find Lauren and my grandmother. But the thoughts of going outside filled me with dread. I couldn’t even imagine how much worse things had gotten in the last five days while I was passed out. God only knew what was lurking around the streets. Maybe the rats had mutated even further and grown as big dogs, or even as big as people like the man from my dream.

  I shuddered and went to the window and looked out through the net curtains. I first saw my car, parked exactly as I had left it days before and also remembered that’s where I had left my mobile phone too – as useless as was now anyway. The rest of the cul de sac looked peaceful. Normal. The only sound I could hear was my own laboured breathing. If I was going to find Lauren and my grandmother then I was going to have to go back out there and face whatever was lurking around the streets. I had to be a fearless and go save my family. But the last thing I felt like right now was a hero.

  My back story is pretty simple and uneventful. Like I said, I was raised by my grandmother from a young age after my parents died. I have no memory of them, or the time the accident happened despite my age. I was brought up catholic and attended church every Sunday. I left school at the first chance I could and got an apprenticeship as a mechanic. Four years later, I qualified as a really good one and a decent auto electrician too.

  I was never a stand out kid in any way. I had an average intellect; I enjoyed watching sports more than participating in them. I was 5 foot 9, and I wasn’t built like Schwarzenegger, but I wasn’t scrawny either. I had been called handsome sometimes in my 29 years, but I wasn’t a heartthrob. I shaved my head in the warmer months and let it grow in a little bit more in winter, because it was simple style that suited me. I had never fired or even held a gun in my lifetime. I was just me – Eric Ward – a mechanic caught up in the end of the world.

  I could strip and replace an engine nut for nut in my sleep, and tell you what was wrong with your car without popping the hood. All you had to do was tell me the symptoms. But when it came to stepping out into a world crawling with zombies, and trying to find the two women that I loved more than anything in the world – I was scared shitless.

  A far cry from your typical hero.

  My stomach rumbled and I began to shake with hunger. I thought that maybe I’d feel a bit braver after I had something to eat and got my energy levels back up. I left the window and went to the kitchen. I ate two bowls of cereal using the last of the milk that had one day left on its use by date. I had two chocolate bars for desert and an energy boost. I threw out anything else that had gone stale or spoiled over the last few days. I dumped the food into two black sacks and tied them in as many knots as I could. I didn’t want the smell of the food to attract any of the dead, or the rats, so I decided to dump it somewhere along the way when I got outside.

  I washed myself in the bathroom sink as best I could with cold water from the immersion tank. I knew it was full, and I had bought enough 5 litre bottles of water to do the three of us for a while (provided we all washed every couple of days), but I still used it sparingly. The cold water did a good job of bringing me around and getting my blood pumping again.

  I dressed myself in jeans, a tight long sleeved jumper, a neck warmer, and a beanie hat. I tucked my jeans into a pair of steel toe desert boots, and then wrapped the long laces around the outside of the boots and tied them as tight as I could. I looked at myself in my bedroom mirror and took some deep breaths. It was far too warm outside for what I had on – but I thought that the less flesh I had on display when I got out there the better.

  I took a telescopic baton from under my bed and tucked it into the belt on my jeans. I had bought it for protection years before at my front door from a guy who assured me that it wasn’t stolen, and that he had a contact that dealt in all sorts of riot and defence gear. I didn’t believe him for one second, but I had still bought it anyway. I slept better at night knowing that it was under me at arm’s length.

  I wondered where that guy was now when people like me needed him. I went downstairs heading for kitchen. The next best weapon I could think of taking with me was my grandmother’s big old meat cleaver that she had used a lot back in the days when her hands were good. I took the cleaver from under the sink and opened up the dusty leather wallet it came in. The blade was still sharp and in near perfect condition, all of which was thanks to my grandmother. I smiled with pride and returned it to its sheathed home I stuck it to my thigh with some electrical tape while ensuring that I could still pull it out for quick release.

  The feeling of the cleaver against my leg brought me a little more at ease. But the thoughts of having to use it or the baton outside still terrified me. I began to tremble and my mouth went dry. I took some deep breaths through my mouth and told myself over and over why I was doing this.

  It had to be done!

  I put my keys in my back pocket and then wiped my sweating palms on the front of my jeans. I turned to leave the kitchen and then heard a loud thud which was followed by a long guttural groan coming from outside in the garden behind me. I spun around quickly and fumbled to get the baton out from my belt. I extended it while I flicked my eyes between the back door and the kitchen window.

  I couldn’t see any movement through the curtains, but I could hear the groaning, and the sound of something scraping along the ground. I bent down and crept closer to the window.

  There were four zombies outside. Three of them were gathered around our old chest freezer, which lay on its side belching blood. They were inspecting the spoiled meat inside. The fourth was on his hands and knees licking from a pool of blood like a dog but he soon rose and screamed in apparent disgust. The sights and smells made me gag. All of them looked like they had been so badly burned that they made Freddy Kruger look as though he only had minor flesh wounds. Their clothes were heavily soiled with different coloured stains, and each
of them had random body parts missing. They all had dozens of open wounds that dripped blood, puss, and maggots onto the ground where they stood.

  The one closest to me was the largest physically, and also the worst looking. He shambled around the garden aimlessly and then looked right in my direction. I ducked down out of the window and hid beneath the sink. I gripped the baton and held my breath.

  I wasn’t sure if he had he seen me or not. Was his eyesight still good enough to see me looking at him through the curtain? I pressed my back against the cupboard and listened. But all I could hear was the odd groan and the sound of my heart whacking against my ribcage. When I was sure that I hadn’t been noticed I stood up again, slowly bringing myself up from a deep squat.

  The zombie had his face pressed up against the glass. He let out a scream that caused infected fluid to spray all over the window. I screamed right back at him and then dropped my baton on the floor. The noises alerted the others to my presence and they all advanced.

  Two of them began beating the kitchen door with all of their might. The other two punched the glass with their battered limbs, and after a few blows the glass shattered. I bent down and picked up my baton and saw that the kitchen door was nearly through already. The whole wooden frame shook and splintered with each thump it took. I wondered how the fuck they could be so strong when they were literally falling apart.

  I left the kitchen and ran to the front door. I stuffed my baton into my jeans and fumbled for my keys. The mortise key shuddered into the hole, and when I turned it jammed. I let out a high pitched cry and tried again. Behind me I heard glass breaking onto the floor and the countertop. The vibrations from the back door being battered ran all the way up the hall and my spine. They were nearly through!

  I tried the key again and grunted through gritted teeth when the barrel rolled over. I opened the top latch and burst out into the street leaving the sounds of footsteps coming up the hall behind me.

  Chapter 5

  I ran around my battered car and saw two rats the size of bulldogs eating something bloody and pulped that they had dragged up onto the back seat. They ate their kill without acknowledging me. I shuddered and kept on running. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the four dead that had gotten into my house were coming after me, and they were moving fast.

  I pumped my legs and left the cul de sac. The main streets looked deserted, and the more I ran the less I could hear behind me. My feet and shins began to ache from the weighted burden of the steel toe boots, but I couldn’t let them slow me down. Those things looked relentless, and it boggled my mind at how quick they were able to move.

  I ran down a couple of side lanes, hoping that they would offer me more cover than the open spaces of the main streets. I chose the ones that I knew well and which didn’t lead to dead ends. I looked back over my shoulder and saw that I had lost my pursuers – for now at least. I turned facing front again and then tripped over something hard and hit the ground face first.

  I tried to break my fall with my hands but it was too late. They slid out in front of me and I hit the ground hard – banging my chin and scraping my cheek. I rolled onto my back and gulped in some air. Everything hit me at once, the pain from the fall, the loss of adrenaline, my aching limbs, the overwhelming heat, and the awful reek in the humid air.

  I felt the warm trickle of blood run down my cheek and dribble onto my neck. I touched my face but couldn’t feel a bad gash. It was tender, but more than likely just a flesh wound. I sat up on my elbows and saw two rats sitting at my feet staring right at me with their red eyes. These ones were even bigger than the ones I had seen on my backseat. Their fur was thick and matted with blood. Their long tails swished behind them slowly, and green saliva dripped from their mouths. Despite their hideous features they didn’t look as though they were dead.

  The first one came at me fast. It darted up my body and I knew it was heading straight for the dripping cut on my face. But I reacted quicker. I elbowed it away from my face as hard as I could just before it latched its teeth onto my cheek. It hit the ground rolling and let out a high pitched squeal.

  I sat up and saw that the next one was standing on its hind legs. It was baring its hacksaw blade teeth at me, and its tail stood upright behind it twitching. I reached for my baton and extended it slowly. The standing rat kept its large eyes fixed on me and I returned its stare while trying to keep a lookout for the other one through my peripheral.

  The one at my feet leapt for me. And I mean it leapt from its stance like a fucking gazelle. It soared through the air, leaving trails of saliva in its wake, while it aimed to use my face as a landing pad. I pulled my neck warmer high up on my face, closed my eyes, and swung the baton.

  The pole hit something hard, so hard that it rattled every joint in my arm. Were it not for the squeal that came from the rat, I would have thought that I had just hit a piece of concrete, or steel. When I opened my eyes I saw the rat lying in a pool of its own blood a few feet away from me. Half of its head was caved in and oozing green fluid.

  I heaved at the sight, and spat bile from my mouth. I looked around for the first rat but I couldn’t see him. He was either lurking in the bushes close by, or gone. Either way, I didn’t want to be hanging around to find out. I picked myself up and examined my baton. The end of it was covered with rat innards. I cursed out loud and set it down at my feet. I put my hand over the knife and waited to see if the first rat would appear again now that I looked unarmed. But it didn’t.

  I then pulled my neck warmer off slowly and examined it. It didn’t look like as if it was contaminated, but I tossed it away just to be sure. I needed to get to a mirror to check my face out. I had passed a mini a little further up the road that still had its mirrors intact. I looked back up to the way I had come just as the dead began filing around the corner. There were so many of them I couldn’t even count. I wondered if they had been able to follow me. Or had they just been moving around and been drawn to the rats’ squealing?

  Who gives a flying fuck? Just get out of here!

  I shook my head, unsheathed my cleaver, and ran. As soon as I picked up speed my whole body began to ache again. I realised that getting to the medical centre was going to be too dangerous. The streets were too populated with the dead, and returning home was out of the question for now. Maybe even forever! My best bet was to try and get to the garage where I worked.

  Where I used to work!

  The garage was the safest place I could think of. Its front doors were made of three inch thick steel, and it even had a small living quarters out the back with iron bars covering the windows. It was secure and liveable. If I was lucky enough to get inside I knew that there was no chance of any zombie busting through.

  I rerouted myself and cut down a couple of side streets again. I looked all around me to make sure I wasn’t being followed or waited on. And for the moment it seemed I wasn’t. But I could still hear the dead groaning.

  I rounded a corner that brought me onto the street where my garage was. I clenched my fist in triumph when I saw that the whole street was deserted and the garage looked as though it hadn’t been tampered with. I slowed down and reached into my pocket for my keys. My clothes were stuck to me with sweat, and my jeans clung to my legs like a heavy second skin. I got the key for the garage door ready in my hand just before a zombie sprang out from behind a parked car in front of me.

  This one didn’t move as fast as the other ones I had seen before it. I figured it was because it was so fucked up. Both of its ears were missing and it only had one eye. The socket where the other one should have been was cauterised. Its clothes were stuck to a body which looked as though it had been sprayed with a blowtorch, and then slashed repeatedly. Every orifice oozed green and yellow gunk.

  The zombie stumbled towards me on uncertain legs like an infant who was learning to walk for the first time. It opened its mouth and drooled slime and teeth. I planted my feet on the ground and held the cleaver by my side. My heart hammered aga
inst my chest and my whole body shivered despite the humidity.

  When the zombie got close enough I gritted my teeth, raised the cleaver high, and then brought it down right between its eyes. The blade penetrated so deep that I couldn’t pull it back out. The zombie gurgled and fell onto its back as more slime leaked from the crease between its eyes. I jumped over it and ran towards the garage door without looking back.

  Chapter 6

  I felt a million times better inside the garage. More so than I did when I had gotten home. It was cool and quiet, and it still had all the familiar smells of work that I was used to. I savoured the aromas over the ones on the streets. The place hadn’t been worked in since I had last locked it up, but I still armed myself with a tire iron and gave the whole area a careful inspection.

  When I was satisfied that I was alone I went to the living quarters and undressed down to my boxer shorts. The cold air that wrapped around my skin felt amazing. I hung my soaking clothes on the hook on the bathroom door and then inspected myself in the grubby mirror. I couldn’t see any drops of blood on my face or on the rest of my skin. Apart from the cut I had gotten from the fall, I had come out of everything unscathed. I slipped into a pair of my old trainers and gave the quarters another inspection.

  The first thing I tried was the phone. It was dead. Well not dead – the dead were still mobile. The phone was just silent. I hung it up and then went to the fridge. There was a large bottle of unopened water inside it but nothing else. I took the bottle out and took a long drink from it. It was warm but I was still glad of it. The presses were as bare as the fridge, save for a half packet of crackers. They were a little stale but I reckoned they would still be edible once I got past the first few on top.