by Ian Woodhead
Three huge men protected by black armor abseiled down from the other helicopter and landed on the roof of the only visible building in there that looked more or less intact.
“Oh hell, you have got to be kidding me. Where have all the trees and grass gone?” Tony had run past that building not that long ago. He leaned closer to the TV screen, taking in all the details that the cameras had to offer. None of this made any sense, no way could this be just another coincidence. He felt fingers of ice caress his spine as the camera panned across the landscape, tracing his route from where he’d entered the city to where he’d awakened. “Am I fucking dreaming this?”
Tony forced his eyes away from the TV and looked over to the kitchen door. “Honey, come here a minute, there’s something that I want to show you!” He dug his fingers into the edges of the armchair, fully aware he was panicking.
“Jesus, hon,” cried his wife, rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?”
He pointed at the television screen, then watched in confusion as the camera swept across the broken skyline. “What the hell?” Tony looked at his wife. “It showed a different city a moment ago. I swear, the picture has just been switched.”
“Is this some sort of joke? If it is, you should put in some more work as I really don’t understand any of it.” She hurried back into the kitchen. “Sit back down, Tony,” she shouted. “Your breakfast is just about ready.”
He did as he asked, not exactly sure what had just happened there. “Maybe that’s another question to ask my boss,” he growled. He’d never mentioned anything about experiencing any possible side effects.
Tony looked up and gave Ellen a warm smile when she reappeared from the kitchen, carrying his tray. She gently placed it on his knees. “Thank you, honey,” he said, trying not to allow his eyes to drift back to the television. “This looks great.” The smell of the hot bacon was already making his mouth water. Even now, after six months, Tony still found it hard to wrap his head around the fact that he could actually enjoy this type of luxury almost every other day. Thanks to his wife’s recent pay upgrade, bacon was no longer one of the foods only enjoyed by the rich and privileged.
She nodded back. “You have no idea how much those eggs cost me, Tony.” She chuckled. “Who’d have thought that hen’s eggs are now rarer than hen’s teeth. Still, duck eggs are a decent enough substitute.” Ellen sat down beside him. “God, what a mess. It doesn’t look much like the arenas that we use in the defense sessions.”
He forked a piece of bacon into his mouth and watched the three soldiers look up at the camera operator. It looked as though they wanted him down there on the roof with them. Wherever they had landed, Tony was now sure that this place was not where he was born. Those ice fingers were still there though, moving up and down his spine. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Do you think there could still be survivors in there?”
That was one question that he used to ask himself on a daily basis, up until a couple of years ago. Back then, the news of groups of survivors somehow escaping from the deadzones were few and far between. Now though, he didn’t think anybody could still be alive so far north. Tony had already accepted the fact that his family had been wiped out when the outbreak had almost ended the world five years ago.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, just look at all those zombies, all crowded around the machines. Without them, keeping their simple minds distracted, the soldiers wouldn’t last five minutes in that city, and they are heavily armed. What chance would a few starving, traumatized survivors have of getting out of there?” He forked in some more food, listening to the newsreader give the usual statistics about the challenges that the purge squads would face if they did choose this citystate to clear. He sighed to himself. As the head medical officer for the district, he already knew the facts and figures. It annoyed him how she seemed to insinuate that the purge squads had an easy task and that the government was delaying the island’s cleansing.
“Are you okay?”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, sorry.” He switched the channel over, pulling a face when he saw the news had ended and this morning’s round of In the Dead House was about to begin. “People like that newsreader just make me crazy. They don’t understand that it would have probably only taken us a couple of weeks to put down nearly every single walking corpse. The problem is how to dispose of the flesh.” Tony cut into his egg. “Every single one of those things is a chemical disaster. As long as the zombies still shuffle about, their bodies stay together. It’s only when the things are truly dead when the fun and games begin. Their flesh is nothing more than a foul concoction of highly toxic and corrosive chemicals.” He looked at his wife. “How on earth do you dispose of countless millions of corpses that refuse to rot?”
Ellen silently took his empty plate and hurried back into the kitchen. Tony knew that he was going over old territory here, and his wife was too polite to tell him to be quiet. If he was truthful with himself, he did enjoy talking about the subject, especially this morning. The cold, hard facts kept his mind focused, and it stopped those thoughts wandering towards the unexplained shit that had already crashed into him.
“They just don’t understand,” he continued. “None of the uninformed have thought this through. The only way to get the things to decompose as they should is to ensure that they turn back into humans.” Tony flipped through the channels, trying to find a program that didn’t show a bunch of cityblock morons running through badly painted studios. He stopped when he found a male newsreader showing old footage of huge piles of bodies just before soldiers dowsed the pile in gasoline. “Yeah, I notice you don’t mention the tiny fact that those bodies are all full of your precious drug. Not that anyone would ever admit to that.” Soldiers carrying flamethrowers fired into the piles, then staggered back as the huge plumes of black smoke rose into the blue sky. Tony stood up and angrily switched off the television.
“Have you finished with your morning moan, honey?” asked his wife, giving him a sweet smile.
He didn’t bother to answer her. He loved his wife to death, but even she couldn’t grasp the simple problem that every one of them was living on borrowed time. They hadn’t stopped Armageddon, they had just postponed it. As each month passed, he saw reports that their miracle drug was becoming less effective in preventing the already infected from finally undergoing the ultimate change from living human to dead monster with an insatiable craving for fresh meat.
Not that he really blamed them for being unable to grasp what was painfully obvious to him. The species had only just begun to believe that they weren’t going to become extinct after all. He suspected that if they knew the truth, the suicides would go through the roof again. No, it was better for them to allow the government to keep the masses distracted with the new television shows; it gave them all a reason to live.
Tony lifted the tray off his knees and stood up, trying to put a lid on his bad mood. It seemed ironic that he believed that the lesser orders wouldn’t be able to cope with the realities of life without a routine when he was just as guilty as the rest of them.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, honey,” he said, kissing the back of her neck. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you have planned for today while I’m over there in that big important building, trying to save the world?”
Ellen rolled her eyes. “Just listen to yourself, Tony. You make it sound as though without you and your friends, we’d all be shambling about, looking for a tasty human to munch on.” She held up her hand. “Don’t bother to reply, honey. You know I’m only joking.” His wife smiled. “Well, if you must know, I’m entertaining this afternoon. A group of us ladies are getting together just past the ruins of the old government house. Our First Lady is going to be guest of honor as well.” She chuckled. “So, it’s not just you who has friends in high places, mister. It’s not every day when you meet the wife of the country’s First Chancellor.” She winked and walked past him, smacking his
bottom as he carried the tray into the kitchen. “Don’t you worry, babes, I’ll make sure that your name pops up in conversation. If you’re lucky, I might even mention just how much you enjoy kissing the district commander.”
Tony allowed a smile to play on his face. “I’m sure that will make the lovely woman blush a deep red.” He leaned around the doorway and watched her walk through the room and start up the stairs. Tony had to admit, the chance of spending some quiet time with the wife of the most important man in the county would be something that he would cherish.
Gloria Hainsworth was indeed a fine-looking woman; he didn’t know many men who didn’t have a thing for her. It was amazing what power combined with a beautiful face and large breasts did to the men that he worked with. Himself included. Tony wouldn’t have minded spending a night or four with her as well.
“Stop it, you perverted monster,” he muttered, smiling to himself. “You’re supposed to be an academic, a man who can put aside his base primitive feelings.”
The real reason why he’d like some time alone with that delectable creature would have been to try to use her influence to get that pig-headed husband of hers to remove all the red tape currently stopping his own pet project from seeing the light of day.
He turned around when the muffled sound of raised voices reached his ears. Tony wandered over to the kitchen window and pressed his face against the cold glass, grinning at the sight of four constables struggling with a fully laden cart. By the looks of it, the axle on the cart was buckled, probably due to all the weight. The lads were having problems dragging the thing closer to the huge steel gates of the recycling complex.
None of the idiots had thought about unloading the bodies of the captured strays and carrying them over to the entrance. He couldn’t see exactly how many bodies were under the improvised tent fabric, but it couldn’t be more than six. It would only take them a couple of trips.
Tony sighed deeply. Listen to him, actually believing that those poor kids had any degree of reasoned thoughts left in their damaged minds. Most of them had still been in school when the outbreak almost destroyed the world. The fact that they were able to almost function as humans was a bloody miracle. He heard more shouts coming from further down the street, and groaned at the sight of three border guards making their way to the gates as well. They too were bringing in a cartful of bodies. By the looks of it, the border guards had been busy.
Both groups served a valuable purpose. The constables stopped the infected masses that refused treatment from the medi-centers, and the guards killed anything moving that ventured anywhere near the capital’s walled boundaries.
For the first time in weeks, Tony saw that the gates were not manned. This confrontation could get ugly. There was no love lost between the two groups; despite them both performing similar roles, they both believed that their group had more prestige than the other. It was a strange belief, considering most people in Tony’s circle of friends didn’t even notice any of them.
“Honey, are you ready? I don’t want you to be late.”
“I’m coming!” he yelled back. Tony picked up his lunchbox, padded out of the kitchen and hurried over to Ellen. “Ready.” He interlocked his fingers with hers and opened the front door.
As he ushered her out, Tony heard the sound of a single gunshot echo from outside the kitchen window, and distantly wondered who had shot whom. His money was on the gate keepers rushing back from wherever they had been hiding in order to control the situation.
“Do you know when you’ll be home, Tony?”
He shook his head. “Not today, honey. Joseph says he has something of utmost importance to discuss with me. He refused to part with more information; he’s probably decided to move the entire department into the new building on the other side of the capital.” It felt a little odd to be thinking of such a banal subject, considering there was a high percentage that a human being had just been shot down directly outside his apartment. It felt weirder to even be thinking about the event. After what had happened to their species, a simple death was just a drop in the ocean to what they had all lived through.
“Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”
He turned his head, distracted. “Sure, I’m okay. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I guess I overdid it in the new VR simulator.” As they approached the hallway attendant, waiting to let them out into the main building, Tony asked himself the same question.
“A pleasant morning to the pair of you!”
He smiled back at the uniformed gentleman who stood by the mesh partition separating the North habitat block from the rest of the building. Patrick Dawson took his job very seriously. His only role in life was to ensure that nobody passing through his gate showed dangerous levels of infection in their blood. It sounded like a very important vocation until you considered there were thousands of old men performing the same role in every large building in the city. Their job was largely superfluous, as every building was equipped with electronic scanners built into the main entrances.
“I’m really sorry to ask you to do this,” Patrick said, dropping his voice. The man picked up his scanner and waved it up and down Ellen’s body. When the device emitted a gentle beep, Patrick opened the gate. His demeanor totally changed when the device sounded a shrill alarm when the man waved it down Tony’s body.
For the first time since the old man had started working in the building, Tony felt a tingle of unease towards the attendant. The feeling increased when the man unholstered his pistol.
“Honey, you really are a silly sausage,” chuckled his wife. “You’re forgotten to take your medication.” She opened her purse and pulled out a small foil strip. “Here you go, you can have my spares. I’ll pick some more up later today,” she said, pushing the strip through the gap in the mesh. “You’d better get these swallowed before our attendant blows off your sexy little head.”
He snatched them up and dry swallowed them, trying not to shake. When the man waved the wand over him this time, the device didn’t report any ambiguities. Patrick smiled and passed him through. “Looks like everything is fine now, sir,” he said, smiling. “I hope you enjoy your day.”
Tony managed to nod before his wife grabbed his hand.
“You should be a little more careful, you know.”
His shakes were getting worse. He hadn’t forgotten to take his pills, he would never do that. He of all people knew the consequences of not keeping up with the treatment. Tony’s stomach lurched to one side, hoping that this incident was a one-off episode, affecting him and nobody else.
Chapter Three
Mortimer Crompton lifted his forefinger, then raised the rest of his digits in quick succession. Each finger revealed a crescent-shaped puncture, already filling with thick, dark blood.
“That is just awesome,” he murmured, watching hypnotized as his blood dripped down the palm of his hand. His body even registered the pain when he clenched his hand back into a fist and opened it again.
He padded over to the break in the floorboards and leaned over, watching the nine dead things shuffle about in the remains of a dining room. They had still not worked out that the huge table in the middle of the floor was the reason why none of them could reach the stairway. He grinned. They reminded him of human-shaped balls in a pinball machine, bouncing off each other.
The amusement factor was the only thing delaying Mortimer from finishing off his mission. He crouched down and picked up a dented tin can. Considering there was nothing else up here, apart from the skeletal remains of a metal bed and a lamp stand leaning against the corner, this would have to suffice. Mortimer squeezed his hand a few more times, wincing as the pain increased. He then grinned even wider, still not getting over the fact that he could actually feel the discomfort.
Mortimer held the wounds over the lip of the can, watching his life fluid drip into the bottom. He knew that he wasn’t going to get much, but the volume should be enough for what he had planned.
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br /> He wandered over to the large window and leaned out. The footsteps were still there, embedded in the soft dirt. Just two prints that stopped suddenly. They had not continued because the man leaving those prints had simply vanished. While Mortimer was watching, trying to understand how this would work into his plans, the guy, who was being chased by a group of the dead, just ceased to be.
That didn’t make any sense; how could anyone just vanish into thin air? Mortimer didn’t doubt his eyes. The fact that the mysterious man’s pursuers were under his feet was proof of that.
The dead things hadn’t sensed him, at least not yet. He didn’t have to turn around to know that his crossbow was looking at Mortimer with eyes of desire, his baby just begging him to allow its smooth bolts to push through their dead flesh. If only he could allow his weapon to get her way. Mortimer took his eyes off the paradoxical footprints and gazed out towards the dead city. There were none of them in visual range, but that meant nothing. They were there, thousands of them, all waiting for the tell-tale sounds of prey entering their domain. The dead waited, staying more motionless than any spider, until another unwary human wandered into the city.
The things below him were not going to leave. As soon as their slow minds realized that their food had slipped through their rotten hands, all the things would just slump where they stood. He’d be trapped up here.
Mortimer sloshed his blood around the tin, knowing that he didn’t have that long before it started to congeal. He needed to use the stuff way before that happened. He spat in the tin a few times before snatching up his crossbow. It was time to go.
The things below him had already begun to slow down; it was now or never. Mortimer walked back over to the gap in the floorboards and held the tin over the edge. He had to get this dead on. Three of the things passed directly below him. He quickly tipped the container, watching his blood fall onto the top of one of their heads. The reaction from the others was immediate and shocking. They all lunged forward, each one trying to get to the dead thing that had Mortimer’s blood dripping down the side of its face.