Death Plague [Four Zombie Novels]

by Ian Woodhead

  No pills meant no job, no apartment, no rights whatsoever. Even the medi-centers were a huge scam. He saw the sun breaking through the clouds. That had to be a good sign. It hadn’t stopped raining for what seemed like forever.

  “What was taking you so long?”

  “The shit I took last night has been rather detrimental to my already fucked body.” He shrugged. “I’ll be alright. I promise. Here, you don’t have any more of those meat things on you?”

  She shook her head. “No. Come on, time to go.” Diane took the gun out of his hands. “I’ve got loads of them at my apartment. As soon as we get this over with, I’ll sneak you into the habitation zone and get you cleaned up. I’ve already got you some new clothes. Just keep that happy thought in mind.” She kissed him lightly on the forehead. “This is going to work.”

  He followed Diane over to the fence and pointed to the gap that he’d found cut into the chain links by one of the posts. “You can climb over, if you want to, darling, but I’m going through there,” he said chuckling.

  She punched him lightly on the top of his arm. “Oh, thanks for letting me know.”

  Kenny heard the sarcasm in her tone and chuckled again. “I just did tell you. If you hadn’t given me anything to eat, I would have waited until you had climbed to the top of the fence.”

  Diane squeezed her way through the hole in the fence and held the wire back so he could get out. Even with her help, Kenny still managed to catch his back on a jagged fence barb. The pain was intense enough for him to feel as though he was about to pass out.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Sorry, I just felt a little faint,” he lied. “I’ll be okay in a moment.” At least the sudden pain would give his mind something else to focus on. With luck, it would stop him from visiting any other star systems on their journey. Kenny eased his body through the hole and stood up, looking back towards the docks so his sister wouldn’t see the discomfort etched on his face. It felt as though his back wound had already begun to scab over. He’d have to take it easy though, he didn’t want it opening up. “Okay, let’s go.”

  He followed her along the dilapidated street, staying close to the boarded-up buildings. As they passed the old café, Kenny was sure that he heard shuffling noises coming from inside. Not that he intended to stop and check it out.

  To stop and investigate. Fuck that. Knowing his luck, it would be where the rest of the washed-up dead things had ended up. He increased his pace to catch up with his sister, daring himself to glance back.

  “Kenny, I want you to tape this over your tattoo.”

  He looked in suspicion at the flesh-colored strip of plastic that Diane had just dropped in his hand. “Are you sure?” He ran his finger over the grooved flesh in the centre of his forehead. Anyone not designated a worker had one of these scars branded into their heads. It made recognition easy, not just for the ‘normal’ classes of the new order, but also so the machines could keep track of your whereabouts. Not that there were many working scanners in the abandoned areas of the city. Those that had been installed only lasted a few hours before mysteriously disappearing.

  Inside the innerzone though, the cursed things were everywhere. “Are you sure, Diane?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Look, don’t worry, the patch won’t burn off. You’re not the only one who’s had to hide their barcode, you know. You’d be surprised what our government gets up to.”

  He peeled off the backing paper and stuck it over the barcode, waiting for the thing to heat up. The bastards that had done this to him and the thousands of others weren’t fools. They knew how easy it would be to fool the machines; it only took a large hat. To bypass this, there were sensors sewn in under the skin, as well as a heating element. If the barcode was ever covered up, the element would be activated with disastrous results. When the technician had branded him with this hateful scar, Kenny had asked what the point was. After all, if they could do this, why not just install a tracker into everybody; they’d know where everyone was all the time then.

  Of course the creep hadn’t bothered to reply, but he had let some of the anaesthetic wear off before performing the simple operation. One of these days, Kenny would find out his name and pay the bastard a visit.

  After a minute, he began to believe that the patch would stay on.

  “It only lasts a few hours before dissolving so we had better make good of our time.” Diane pointed to the huge steel gate in the distance before unzipping the overalls and stepping out of them. She passed them to him. “I made sure they were too big for me so you’d be able to wear them. Even with the patch, you’d never pass as a worker. You really do look bad, Kenny.”

  It took him a few minutes to climb into the overalls. He could smell her perfume on in the fabric. “What about the gun? It’s going to be hard disguising that.”

  Diane just shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve just done some essential maintenance to one of the transmission towers close to the old dockyard. At least, you have. I’m just your bodyguard. As for the gun, we’re hardly likely to leave the safety of the innerzones without protection, now are we? There’s no telling what the locals would do to us.”

  He couldn’t find fault with her story. Kenny just hoped that the guards wouldn’t decide to question it any further. Then again, considering the color of her uniform, they wouldn’t dare. “When were you promoted, Diane?”

  She turned around. “Fat chance of that ever happening, Kenny. It isn’t my uniform. It belongs to the woman who lives across from my apartment. I just happen to have the key to her door and she works the nightshift.” Diane suddenly hushed and hurried across the empty street.

  Kenny frowned. He couldn’t see anyone near the checkpoint. His sister stopped by the barrier, looked back at him and shrugged. He watched her manually open it and pull down on the gate while looking around. Kenny rushed over and squeezed through the gap. “This is not right,” he murmured. “I’ve never known this to happen.”

  Diane pulled him through and let the barrier drop. “Let’s not question providence, Kenny. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure that the guard would fall for my bullshit story anyway. Come on, we’re not far from the medi-center now. I think we should move before that guard does come back.”

  His sister had a good point; he already knew that his fate would be sealed if he was caught on this side of the city. The volunteers at the medi-center used to make that perfectly clear when he still went there for his injections .Kenny had a feeling that Diane would probably end up next to him against the execution wall as well. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Both he and Diane raced down the road. At the moment, the streets were devoid of people, but Kenny knew that wouldn’t last long. He remembered his last visit to the place. The other people like him weren’t too keen on showing their faces either, at least not until they reached the center. Kenny then noticed several moving shadows on both sides of the road; the morning light couldn’t penetrate the overhanging stone roofs. He nodded to himself. They weren’t alone after all. His ex-fellow sufferers were already making their way, no doubt desperate for their next injection.

  Diane had seen the shadows too. He’d already seen her stiffen. Kenny didn’t blame her reaction; even with her enlightened attitude, coupled with the fact that her brother was one of the ‘deviants’, it must be almost impossible to totally dispense of all the bias that the authorities shoved down their throats every minute of the day. He slowed down when the building came into view.

  A cold shiver travelled down his spine. He had hoped that he’d never set eyes on that vile place ever again. It wasn’t the sight of it that had set off the shiver; the building just felt wrong somehow. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Right,” Diane whispered. “This is going so easy, watch.”

  Kenny had no idea what he was supposed to be keeping an eye on, but he did as she asked. The moving shadows all ended up in the same spot, queuing up in front, pati
ently waiting for the door to open. Not that long ago, he would have been in that line, wanting nothing else but to experience the high after he had pushed that needle into his vein. Kenny wished that he could share what his sister had told him. Then again, would any of them really believe him? He certainly didn’t, not at first, not until she had shown him the evidence. They used to say that the camera never lies. It took a smuggled portable television to show him exactly why the government was ‘helping’ the unfortunate members of the community. The bastards were using the medi-centers as recruitment places for their vile television shows.

  He’d sat there, rigid with shock, watching some show called In the Dead House. From what he could work out, the dozen contestants had to complete challenges in order to stop the audience from throwing them out of the house. The last one remaining was the winner. Not that the idea was new. Kenny remembered crap like this polluting the TV long before The Turning. It was the challenges that made him sick. While he watched, he saw two giggling teenage blonde girls taking turns to try and hit this chained-up zombie with baseball bats. The one that managed to stop it from moving was declared the winner. What made him nauseous that that the dead thing used to be one of his mates from the medi-center. He’d just stopped coming a couple of weeks ago. Kenny had assumed that he’d gone to another medi-center; after all, there were hundreds of them scattered across the city.

  Kenny had started to ask Diane to turn it off when the camera switched to show more contestants running through a mocked-up version of some city street, carrying crossbows and shooting at more moving dead people. Like the poor bastard having his body bashed in by the two girls, Kenny had seen most of those zombies at the medi-center at one time or another.

  “So what am I supposed to be looking for?”

  Diane pointed to the alleyway that led to the back of the building. “The employees are currently processing the first batch of addicts. There’s a truck parked at the back that’ll take them through to the broadcasting house. Right now, the place where we want to go will be empty.” She produced a small key from her uniform. “And this unlocks that gate over there.”

  She ran across to the huge fence that stopped anyone from going around the back and hurried over to the gate. Kenny ran after her, noticing that a couple of the ones in the queue had spotted them. He didn’t find it too surprising that the ones who had seen them turned away. He remembered what it was like waiting in that queue. The last thing you wanted to happen was to lose your place. It was common knowledge that the ones turning up later were likely to miss out on getting any of the precious drug.

  “So, they always process the first batch?” hissed Kenny when he caught up to his sister.

  Diane pushed the key in the padlock, twisted and opened it. She pulled him through and locked it behind them. “Yes, for them it makes sense. They want the most active for their show so they go for the ones who were able to get here at first light.”

  It was weird, his sister’s statement felt so detached, so cold and clinical to the casual listener, but he could tell straight away that she was seething at the injustice of it. Hell, there weren’t that many humans left on the planet, and yet it still didn’t stop the privileged from exploiting the ones right at the bottom.

  Diane looked down both ends of the low-lit passageway before reaching for the door handle. Kenny saw the keyhole and also saw that his sister didn’t possess a key for this door. He wasn’t too sure how he’d react if this door was locked as well. She looked back at him and winked before turning the handle. The door silently swung inwards. He smiled and followed her inside, sighing with pleasure. This room was so warm.

  “This way,” she said, making her way through the two piles of cardboard boxes stacked up against both sides of the wall. Kenny gasped when he saw the storeroom right in front of them. Through the glass door, he saw metal shelves overflowing with glass vials full of light blue liquid. There was enough in there to cure him of the stage one infection and cure just about every other person just like him. “What the fuck?” He didn’t doubt that all the other medi-centers would be just like this one too.

  “Just look at it all,” he growled. “Why should I be surprised at this?”

  “It surprises me that you two are the first ones to ever get this close.”

  He spun around and groaned at the sight of Rossini and four other large men standing behind him. They all carried shotguns. Rossini had a syringe in his other hand.

  “Kenny, it’s time for your next shot. Oh boy, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get you on my show. Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to let them Turn you. I think you’re just lovely the way you are.” He turned his attention to Diane. “There’s so much love shown between you two. What a unique angle. My viewers won’t know whether to love you, Diane, or to call you a traitor to the species.” He grinned. “I’m so glad that I’ve found you two, you’re going to make our TV station very, very rich.”

  Chapter Five

  It felt as though he had forced a wire coat hanger into his mouth. Patrick Dawson closed the door that led to the inner habitation block and locked it. All of the house guests had finally left. He ran his thumb and forefinger down the side of his face. It still felt as though the permanent smile was affixed to his face. Patrick had to wait until the shift change arrived before he could get the hell out of there. The wall clock above the main door had decided that it would be hilarious to mock him. That could not be the correct time. The stupid boy was already five minutes late. He needed to get home; of all the times that child decided to sleep in, why the heck did he have to choose today of all days?

  Patrick ran over to the main doors, jerked them open and looked both ways. All he saw was some old woman on the other side of the street, heading towards Government House. He was seriously going to kill the bastard for doing this to him. He couldn’t stay here any longer, his family needed him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “What am I going to do now?”

  He knew that the longer he spent here, the more chance that he’d have no family left to go home to. Despite that, his sense of loyalty to the job wouldn’t allow him to leave his post. Family did not come before duty. Young Karl obviously didn’t care about his given role, and for that lethargic attitude, Patrick knew deep down that the kid was destined to lose his job. If that happened, the brat would be on the injections. It couldn’t come soon enough for Patrick. Shits like him didn’t deserve the pill privilege.

  “I’m so sorry, Justine,” he said, watching the old woman a little longer. Patrick looked down both directions one more time before he shut the doors and came back inside to get warm. He walked over to his desk and slumped in the hard plastic seat, trying not to think about how his wife and daughter were coping right now. He had promised that he’d be home as soon as he could.

  Patrick picked up his scanner and turned it around in his shaking fingers before he aimed the gun sight at his face. Did he possess the guts to press that trigger? He thought back to how it had gone off when the gentleman from the second floor had tried to get through the gate. Patrick had been as shocked as him, but his training had kicked in and Patrick had assumed the correct posture and reeled off the appropriate words. Watching Tony’s face had told him that the man hadn’t expected the scanner to go off. It also reinforced a very worrying suspicion that had been lingering at the back of Patrick’s mind for the past couple of days.

  That man had been sure that he’d taken his pills. In fact, Patrick would stake his life on it. No medical officer would be so sloppy as to forget to take the one thing that stopped him from being dead. The drugs were losing their potency. He’d suspected this troubling idea for a few weeks now. Now it looked like even the pure pills that only the elite took were not working as well as they should. He remembered how the woman had casually handed Tony that metal foil through the gap in the wire.

  Did she have any idea just how much those were worth? Patrick knew people that would pay handsomely for quality pills like that.
It took much effort to stop himself from reaching out to snatch those pills out of her manicured fingers. He could have done the deed and gotten away with it too. Patrick could have just as easily said that they were contraband or something equally valid. He doubted that the loss would have made much difference to their privileged lives, apart from seeing it as a minor inconvenience. He was sure that they’d have plenty more in their apartment.

  Grabbing those pills could have meant the difference between living and dying for his family though. Patrick reached into his pocket and pulled out another foil packet.

  He glared at the things in revulsion. To think that their lives depended on these things made him sick to the stomach. What annoyed him more than anything was the obvious difference with these. Unlike the pills that Tony had rammed into his mouth, these pills were grey.

  Sure, the TV adverts all categorically stated that all the pills were of the same potency and it didn’t matter about the color. What utter bullshit. Everyone knew that the white pills were purer.

  The ones in his hand looked and tasted like grey chalk. He doubted that they had very little of the precious Beldazine in any of them. He looked at the clock again, dismayed that another five minutes had passed. Patrick stood up and raced over to the doors. The boy was now sixteen minutes late. His gut feeling told Patrick that the slacker had decided not to show up for his shift.

  “I can’t stay any longer,” he murmured. “They need me.” The pills probably were next to useless, but they were all he could get. He had no other option. Patrick pulled open the doors; as he suspected, there was still no sign of the boy. “You’re so fucking dead,” he growled. Patrick couldn’t wait any longer. He ran back into the foyer, grabbed his coat, and ran out of the building. He closed the doors but left them unlocked in case that boy did decide to show up.