by James Somers
“The soldiers are coming also,” Cassie says.
Holly sees them in the rearview mirror. It’s unclear if the soldiers in the truck can see the zombies coming around the corner ahead or not.
“What are we going to do?” Garth says
“Get in the trunk!” Holly shouts.
“What?” they answer, confused.
Holly turns, pointing. “Pull down the seats and climb into the trunk. If they can’t see us then maybe they’ll pass us by.”
Garth and Cassie pull the rear seats forward on their hinges and begin to scramble into the dark trunk space. First Garth and then Cassie. Holly climbs through the front seats and climbs in after them.
She can hear the fierce screams of the infected coming toward them. Holly pulls her legs inside, as the teens try to scrunch together and give her more room. Grabbing the nylon straps attached to the backs on the seats, she pulls them back into place, plunging them into darkness.
Almost immediately, they hear the truck rumble up behind them. Shots are fired, and Holly waits anxiously for bullets to pop through the trunk lid into the space and kill them. It doesn’t happen.
The soldiers shout and shoot their weapons. The driver must be trying to throw the vehicle in reverse. Holly hears the gears grinding defiantly.
Footsteps running over the roof pound the car, crashing onto the trunk and then leaving, no doubt chasing the one target they can still find—the soldiers in the military truck. There is so much shouting and shooting over the next sixty seconds it becomes difficult to discern what’s happening. The truck gets further away, but shots are still fired.
As Holly, Garth, and Cassie breathe heavily in the dark, confined space, the noises grow more faint. It sounds as if the large truck has hit a car along the way in its mad dash to flee the onrushing mob of zombies. Gunfire grows distant and less. Either they have outrun the pack, or they have been overcome by them.
Holly waits a few minutes more and then risks a peek, pushing the seat back forward gently. She cannot hear anyone roaming about at the moment. Leaning out and looking around through the windows, Holly finds the street clear. The soldiers did a good job, leading away the threat, for now.
“Maybe you two should stay in here,” Holly suggests. “Just in case we must use that method again.”
“We’re not staying in the car all night are we?” Garth asks. “I could go up high to the rooftops and scout for us.”
“I wouldn’t want to take the risk,” she replies.
“Holly, we aren’t in Dr. Albert’s program for nothing,” he says from the darkness of the trunk.
“I know,” she says, “but let’s just stay together in the car, for right now.”
“Where are we going?” Cassie asks.
Holly looks out at the darkening sky. She knows they don’t have a great deal of time to just roam about. Dark will be upon them soon, and they’ll need a place to hold up for the night.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a pub not far from here,” Holly says. “We could at least get something to eat and maybe find some news on.”
“Food sounds good,” Garth says.
“Yes,” Cassie agrees, “and maybe the news channels can tell us why the soldiers would shoot at civilians like that.”
“Exactly what I was wondering,” Holly agrees.
Climbing out of the trunk, but leaving the seat backs down for Garth and Cassie to have some light and fresh air, Holly takes to the driver’s seat again. The car is still running. In her haste, she never took the keys out of the ignition.
She turns the car around in the road, going very slow and scanning for more of the infected. The last thing they want to do now is set off another attack. The creatures might, or might not get into the car and rummage about. If so, their hiding place could be inadvertently discovered.
Holly drives cautiously back along Kenington Road with her lights off. Movement appears to be a key factor in agitating the creatures. Several times she spots something and stops the car, waiting to see. Twice the moving thing turns out to be blowing garbage of some kind. Only once does another infected person cross their path.
Fortunately, the creature is far away at the time, and the car is stopped before they look her way. Holly breathes and waits until the zombie passes, responding to screams in the distance. Evidently, Holly, Garth, and Cassie aren’t the only ones caught in this evacuated zone.
Noise and movement—they must avoid both. However, as near as she can tell, light doesn’t seem to be a problem. The street lamps are on everywhere now, as the sun’s light fades to a dim orange at the edge of a twilight sky. Moreover, many businesses and homes still have lights burning inside, despite having been abandoned some time earlier. The creatures appear to pay them no mind.
Perhaps they’re more intelligent than we give them credit for, Holly wonders. They are alive, after all, and surely the virus hasn’t completely wiped out higher brain function. Still, they didn’t bother searching the car earlier, even though someone must obviously be driving it.
A few more minutes of cautious, slow driving brings them into view of the pub Holly saw earlier. The Ship Pub is all windows and dark green framed façade on the outside. Potted flowers in bloom adorn the upper portion separating the pub from two higher cream colored stories above. Perhaps, the owners live in the upper floors.
Outside, the patio area around the front doors is full of picnic style tables with umbrellas shading them. Only a few lights burn inside, and there is no one about on the street Holly can see. No one appears to be moving inside, either.
Holly brings the car to a stop before the front door, places the shifter in park, and cuts off the ignition. She listens expectantly. Only the sounds of far away carnage, helicopters, and gunfire can be heard at the moment.
“Are we there?” Garth asks, whispering.
Holly turns back and nods, motioning them to scoot out of the trunk space.
Cassie comes out first, sitting in the back seat while Garth extricates himself last.
“Oh, this looks nice,” she says. “I’m glad the power is still on.”
Holly considers this comment. Power is not lost yet. However, if matters should grow worse for the city, that might come in the days ahead. It is an unfortunate reality that power plants require people to keep them running properly. Subtle changes can quickly become big problems to be dealt with. Left to themselves, these plants will begin to shutdown. Grid losses will then create a cascade failure, interdependent parts collapsing one at a time until the whole is lost.
For the first time, Holly begins to realize this problem is not going to be corrected any time soon. The more likely scenario will be a complete loss of London. Power will be lost. Those caught inside, as the military retreats, will either be consumed, or infected to join the rest.
Garth sits in the sit beside Cassie. “Let’s go inside he says, retrieving his katana from the back window.
Each of them looks around before they make their move from the car to the pub.
“Clear,” they each call out, satisfied that none of the infected are nearby.
Holly takes her keys, and they exit the Honda, leaving the car on the street. They might need it again soon. She leaves the doors unlocked. It seems foolish to worry about anyone stealing it now. Zombies don’t drive cars, after all, and there are nicer vehicles left abandoned in the streets.
They meet at the entrance. Garth tries the door. It’s locked. “Great,” he hisses in frustration.
“Okay, okay,” Holly says. “Cassie do you think you could—”
She looks unsure. “I don’t know, maybe if I concentrate—”
“No time for that right now, Cass,” Garth says, pulling his katana from the scabbard across his back.
He inserts the blade within the thin gap between the two dark green doors. Garth raises the blade high in the gap, pauses, and then brings the sword down lightning quick, slicing through the metal deadbolt with hardly a bump. As he withdraws the bl
ade, the doors swing out open.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Holly says, sighing.
“Why?” Garth asks. “What do you mean? The doors are open now.”
“Yes,” Holly agrees, “but you cut through all of the pieces that keep the door closed. We want to close the doors after we go in.”
“Oh,” Garth says, looking a little embarrassed. He replaces his sword in the scabbard.
“Perhaps we could tie the inner door knobs together with a cord,” Cassie suggests.
Holly smiles. “Let’s do that.”
They go inside, and Cassie goes to find an electrical cord from an appliance in the kitchen. When she returns, she hands it to Garth. He’s holding the doors closed at the moment.
“I used a cleaver to cut this for you,” she says, handing it to him, leaving him with the task of making it work.
Garth accepts the cord grudgingly and begins the process of wrapping and tying the two knobs together. It is not strong. It won’t keep someone from breaking into the pub to come after them, but it might serve as a deterrent by not leaving the restaurant wide open for wandering zombies.
“We’ll leave the lights off, except what’s burning already,” Holly says.
“I’ll lower all of the window shades,” Cassie suggests.
“Even better,” Holly replies. “Just watch to make sure none of them are out in the street. They attack when they hear certain noises and when they see movement.”
Cassie nods, and Garth comes back to the bar, having already lowered the shades over the doors.
“Dark doesn’t bother me,” he says casually, searching behind the bar counter. “I’ll check the kitchen.”
Holly nods. She knows that Garth is able to see quite well in the absence of light. He can see in the kitchen right now, even though the darkness must be almost complete.
Cassie has special abilities all her own. The girl moves from window to window as silently as a ghost. Holly notices Cassie searching the street carefully before lowering each wooden blind, using the rods to rotate the slats together and block the outside world as much as possible.
Several flat screen televisions are found in the pub.
“I’d say we use the one in the game room,” Garth says, pointing toward the rear of the restaurant near the restrooms. “It’s hidden away from any of the windows.”
Each of them enjoys a bathroom break, while the others keep watch. Then they gather together in the back room where a billiard table dominates the space. Several table are situated around the wall, and the flat panel is mounted in the corner on a bracket near the arch leading in.
Garth searches for the remote, but can’t locate it.
By the time he comes back into the back room frustrated, Cassie already has the television on. Each time she squints her eyes, the channel on the flat screen changes up or down. Holly sits at a table with her, waiting for a news channel. When Cassie comes across images of London in chaos, police helicopters, and army insurgents, she knows they have what they need.
Garth sits down at the table next to the ladies. The reporter reads from a statement issued by the Prime Minister. Scenes of panic and scurrying evacuees fill the background behind the reporter as the statement is read.
Holly notices the mention of a military quarantine in effect for the entire city of London. However, a zone of inclusion is set that includes all of Central London, as well as other areas in an expanding radius from the first hospital attack in Paddington. Tube, rail, and air services are suspended indefinitely.
As Holly expects, civilians were evacuated. A warning also stands in effect. Anyone remaining in the zone of inclusion beyond the first 72 hours will be shot on sight, as efforts strengthen to eliminate the infected before London is totally lost to the voracious spread of this disease. As indicated by the reporter, that 72 hour deadline expired yesterday.
“That explains why they tried to kill us,” Cassie says.
“And it means they won’t stop trying,” Garth points out. “Even a normal looking person could be infected but not turned yet. They won’t take any chances, as bad as this has gotten.”
Holly nods. “I might as well be honest with you two,” she begins reluctantly. “We’re not going to be rescued, at least not anytime soon.”
The two teens sit still, listening.
“That means we’re going to have to find some place more secure. All of these windows—well, it’s bound to become a problem. It would be better to find a place with plenty of food and other items we might need for a long stay.”
They nod together.
“How long?” Garth asks reservedly.
Holly pauses, trying to keep tears out of her eyes. “I really don’t know. It all depends on whether this can be stopped. Jonathan was our hope for a cure. I can only pray Agent Smith was able to get him out.”
“And if he didn’t?” Cassie asks. “What happens then?”
“I don’t know,” Holly replies.
“London will fall,” Garth says indignantly.
Cassie looks at her with pleading eyes.
“You might be right,” Holly says to Garth in reply. “Maybe not. However, if this does get worse, we will probably lose power. So, we’ll stay here tonight and then try to scout out a better place tomorrow. If this pub has a wireless connection, we can use my cell phone to search for possibilities.”
“You never told us what this has to do with Jonathan,” Garth says. “Why is he the hope for a cure?”
Holly sighs, “Because, as far as we know, he is the initial source of the outbreak.”
“But he isn’t one of those things,” Cassie reasons.
“He doesn’t know how, but he is a carrier,” Holly says. “From what I’ve seen, Jonathan cannot contract the actual disease.”
“How do you know?” Garth asks.
“He was bitten by one of them,” she says. “He never became symptomatic. In fact, the wound healed a few minutes later on its own. No scar, no trace it was ever there.”
“Is that why Dr. Albert recruited him for our program?” Cassie asks.
“Because of his healing and his strength,” Holly admits. “At the time, we didn’t even know there was a virus.”
Garth looks angry.
Cassie seems unsure what to think.
“It’s not his fault, Garth,” Holly says. “He didn’t know until the boy who attacked him at his school contracted the disease and went mad.”
Garth says nothing. He doesn’t appear mollified by the news. A silence hangs in the air, as the news report continues with more of the same. London’s turmoil, as well as fears from other nations about the potential for a global pandemic are the only topics mentioned.
“Well,” Holly finally says, trying to sound as cheerful as possible, “what do you say we all go and raid the kitchen?”
“When in doubt, feed our faces?” Garth muses.
Holly grins. “Something like that.”
Tomb Raiders
Scott Bishop waits in the dark inside the locker room of Laboratory One. He sits on the narrow bench, wearing scrub clothes from the rack on the wall. He leans his head against a metal clothes rod, taken from an adjoining storage room.
Why would they do something so foolish? Bishop wonders.
He saw the shared fate of his colleagues, Keigel and Asher. The two virologists were unwilling to wait with him while he searched for a weapon to help them get to the front vestibule safely. The two men went through the door out of the lab, leaving him behind. Then the lights went out everywhere.
Bishop made it to the door in time to see the two doctors running toward a group of men in shadow. The men had been in formation—one clue they were military in nature. Not wanting to be left behind in the rescue effort, Bishop had just opened the door to follow.
That’s when gunfire erupted in the corridor. Both Keigel and Asher ran toward a team of men who were probably expecting zombies in the dark. The soldiers reacted instinctively, cutting them
down.
As shots ricocheted from the walls, Bishop slammed the door shut, ducking back inside to save himself. He hit the ground in the locker room. In the corridor, Keigel and Asher dropped to the tile floor quite dead.
Bishop couldn’t wait here. He had to yell to the soldiers so they would know he was there. He didn’t want to be left behind in this hellish nightmare.
However, as he went to open the door again, the same suppressed gunfire came again down the hall. Bishop cracked the door open, realizing they weren’t shooting down his way. What he saw, caused his heart to sink in his chest.
The soldiers were shooting into one group of zombies, but another ran up behind them unnoticed. Even as he attempted to shout a warning over the gunfire, the first few soldiers were attacked and pulled out of the line. A moment later, the crowd of hungry predators engulfed the last of the seven men. Bishop closed the door hastily and locked it.
Two hours later, he is still unsure what to do. He can’t remain here. He will starve to death, at the very least. Going out there to scrounge for food will be worse.
Something catches his eye in the dark. A red light, up high near the ceiling, blinks. Bishop realizes this light is a power indicator for one of the cameras. He stands, walking closer to the mount in the corner.
The main power is still out, but the camera is functioning. He did not notice the light earlier. He moves sideways. The camera follows him and stops. Curious, he repeats the maneuver. The camera follows his movement again and then stops again.
“Someone is controlling it,” Bishop says to himself. “But there’s no one here to do it.”
An idea dawns. Bishop walks back from the locker room to observation window that overlooks the lab. He can see Angela Sayers’ face on his computer monitor. He looks back at the camera that has followed him again to the window. Then he looks back to the monitor in the lab.
Text types across the screen in big letters as he watches.
Come Here, Bishop!
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he says happily.
Bishop races back to the suiting room, quickly donning a dry safety suit. Even with the main power out, the lab systems work. He can get back in.