The Z Infection

Home > Other > The Z Infection > Page 5
The Z Infection Page 5

by Russell Burgess


  I sat down, safe and secure on my perch, and opened my bag. I took out a slice of the pizza I had found earlier and took a bite from it, munching on it and savouring the heat from the pepperoni. I only ate about half of the slice, putting the rest away for later. I had no idea when I would be able to scavenge any more food. I doubted there would be many more pizzas being made. I took a fleece out of my bag and wrapped it around my legs to keep them warm. Then I curled up and went to sleep. The last thing I remembered, before I dropped off, was that I still really wanted a drink.

  Claire Samson

  15:30 hours, Friday 15th May, Whitehall, London

  I somehow eventually managed to find my way to my friends flat, only to find that she was no longer there. The door was unlocked and she had left me a note, telling me that she had popped out for milk and to make myself at home. She would be back later, it said.

  I let myself in and closed the door behind me. I rummaged around in a drawer in the hall and found a spare key. I then locked the door and secured it with the bolts at the top and bottom and with the chain too. It was a solid door and I was pretty sure it would offer me a lot of protection.

  It was surprisingly quiet outside. I took a look out of the living room window and down the street. There were four abandoned fire engines next to the bus which was wrecked beyond repair. The fire had engulfed it completely and it was now a burned out hulk. The building it had crashed into had suffered a fair bit of fire damage too, but it must have been fitted with a sprinkler system because the fire was all but out, leaving just a column of thick black smoke rising into the air.

  There were still one or two people in the street, just wandering around slowly. They all had injuries of some description, many to the face and neck. They didn’t seem to be interested in anything.

  Next to one of the fire engines was a sight which almost made me sick. There were four fire fighters and two policemen lying dead. Around them were a couple of bodies of civilians. How they had all died I had no idea, but it was a gruesome sight. One of the police officers, a young woman, was half eaten. Her innards were scattered across the street, as if they had been ripped out by a hungry animal and dragged away to its den. Her colleague, an older man, was slumped across the body of one of the firemen as if he had been trying to protect him from something.

  I took about a dozen photographs, knowing that they would probably never be published and then closed the window. I couldn’t bear to look at it any more. I took my mobile phone from my pocket and tried to call my friend again. Still no answer. The next number I tried to call was my boss. It was engaged. I tried again but still couldn’t get through.

  I opened the fridge and had a look for something to eat. It was almost empty but there was enough cheese to make myself a sandwich. I chomped on it while scanning through the TV channels. Every single one was carrying the same news. I was only twelve when 9/11 had happened, but it had left a deep impression on me. I guessed that today’s events were going to leave a deep impression on another generation, if they survived it.

  One of the channels suddenly diverted to another breaking story. It was in Stuttgart, Germany. A disturbance at the airport there. It had all the hallmarks of the London trouble and I watched it with growing interest. Wobbly images of staggering figures, taken by brave travellers who had filmed it on their mobile phones. From the airport, the story continued, the panic had spread to the city and was moving through it at an incredible speed. The German armed forces had been placed on high alert and were prepared to be deployed at a moment’s notice. Deploy them now, I thought, the moment is here with us. They couldn’t see it.

  Only the Americans, it seemed, were putting things into place to protect their citizens. The President had already ordered the armed forces to move to DEFCON 3, meaning an enhanced state of readiness for the armed forces in general and the air force to be ready to mobilise in fifteen minutes. That was the Americans for you. While Europe was sitting around, wondering whether peoples human rights would be infringed if they took a certain course of action, the Americans were already three steps ahead.

  I switched off the TV as my mobile started vibrating in my pocket. It was my boss, Rupert Etherington.

  ‘Where are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m right by the bus crash,’ I replied.

  ‘What? Claire you need to get out of there. It’s not safe.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I said. ‘I’m in a friends flat, just down the street. I’m perfectly safe here.’

  ‘I don’t think you understand,’ he said. ‘I’ve just taken a call from one of the PM’s aides. They are in a complete panic. The PM has been relocated. They haven’t been able to tell me where to and they’re talking about blowing up bridges to stop the spread.’

  ‘The spread of what?’

  ‘Nobody knows,’ he said. ‘It’s some sort of disease, they think. It is spread from human to human.’

  ‘They can’t be serious about the bridges,’ I said. ‘That’s too drastic. If it’s a disease we should be looking to find a cure instead.’

  ‘All I can say is that if you don’t get south of the river soon, then you’ll have to think of some other way to get out of London.’

  ‘Where are you?’ I asked.

  ‘At the office. I’m staying here to coordinate the news reports. We won’t be publishing tonight, but I’m passing everything I have onto the BBC. The more information we have, the better chance we have of beating this thing, whatever it is.’

  I could only agree with him and hoped that he would be safe. Our offices were in Kensington and from the news reports I had seen, the incidents were already encroaching into that area. It wouldn’t be long before it would be impossible to get out of that area too.

  ‘I’m not going to move yet,’ I said. ‘It’s too dangerous on the streets and I can report to you from here, so long as we continue to have a telephone link. I have enough food in the cupboards to last me a few days. By then this should all have been brought under control.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But if the opportunity arises, I think you should get out.’

  We hung up, promising to call one another regularly.

  How naïve we were in those early days. In fact we were fools, arrogant and overconfident in our ability to shape the world around us, as we had always been. How that would change in the days to come.

  Anthony Ballanger

  16:50 hours, Friday 15th May, West London

  By late afternoon it was obvious that we were going to have to do something extreme to combat what was being called, in hushed tones around what was left of the cabinet, the outbreak. We had been moved, just after the two o’ clock COBRA meeting, to an office block near to the Earl’s Court Exhibition Centre, although it was becoming crystal clear that this was only going to be temporary.

  The PM had again been briefed about what was happening in the city. The casualty figure was tentatively put in the thousands and it was continuing to rise at an alarming rate. Dr Bryson had failed to get through to Great Ormond Street and had retreated back across to the south bank. He was no further forward as to determining the cause of the incidents but his best guess was pointing to an incredibly infectious disease.

  The situation at Buckingham Palace was under control, as far as we could make out. A small number of civilians had managed to get through one of the side gates, but many more had continued to flee west. What the garrison at the palace was faced with now, was a horde of belligerents who had surrounded the grounds. The figure quoted, was put at an astonishing twenty thousand. Of course we thought that was an exaggeration. There was surely no way that so many people could have become infected so quickly.

  The PM had taken the decision to fully mobilise the armed forces, taking his cue from the US President in a telephone conversation. The navy was to make every seaworthy ship available immediately, while the army was to prepare to deploy in London to combat the outbreaks of violence. The Air Force was ordered to be ready to destroy the bridg
es over the Thames and jets were on standby at RAF Brize Norton. This was how serious the outbreak was now being taken. It was a difficult decision for the PM. He knew whatever he did would be unpopular.

  One of the scariest moments was when he took a telephone call from the Met Commissioner. He was at New Scotland Yard and was surrounded by a baying mob, desperately seeking safety from the rampage of the infected. They had barricaded the doors but the crowd was growing by the minute. He was asked by the PM if he could still function and police the city. The answer wasn’t good. He estimated that the force was down to about half its strength, either through deaths, injuries or officers simply abandoning their posts and going missing. It was becoming impossible to keep track of what officers he had available.

  He signed off the conversation by saying that he was trapped in the building, with a few hundred staff. He didn’t know how long it would be before the mob broke through, or the infected made it to that part of the city.

  There was a deathly silence in the room after that conversation. The Prime Minister was quiet for a long time. General Breck, who had stayed with us when we fled from Downing Street, suggested that the PM and the cabinet be evacuated by helicopter, to a safer place somewhere to the north of London. Then he would direct the ground forces against this enemy which had so far seemed to be unstoppable.

  The PM disagreed. He wanted to stay and be seen to be leading the country from the front in this time of crisis. He was so insistent that Breck backed down and agreed that this would be the course of action he should follow. When the PM went to his office to read through another pile of depressing reports, I took Breck to one side and told him to make sure three helicopters were on standby for evacuation. I wanted them to be able to be at our location with half an hour. Someone had to be thinking straight in those desperate hours.

  Kim Taylor

  17:00 hours, Friday 15th May, Buckingham Palace, London

  When Ellie and I got through the side gate and into the grounds of Buckingham Palace it felt like we had been saved. There were about fifty of us altogether. I don’t know why we were selected. Chosen by God was one ranting woman’s explanation. I’m not sure about that. I wasn’t sure about God any more. Why would he have done something like that to us?

  Ellie was in better shape, now that we were able to sit down. One of the soldiers had a look at her ankle. It wasn’t as bad as we had feared. A couple of days rest would see it back to normal. The only thing was, I wasn’t sure if we would get another two days, or even another two hours. By the time we had come back out of the sick bay there was a distinct change in the mood outside the gates.

  Panic had really set in. Some tried to climb over and were beaten back by the soldiers who had formed a perimeter inside the fences. One man, a young officer who seemed to be in charge, took a megaphone and addressed the crowd, telling them that they would not be allowed access to the grounds of the palace under any circumstances. Any attempts to gain access would be met with deadly force.

  It didn’t stop them. Whatever was behind them, pressing in on the desperate crowds, was far more frightening than the threat of a bullet. People began to climb once again, as shouts from behind them turned to screams. The officer drew his pistol and pointed it at the first man. He ordered him to get off the railings. The man took no heed and the officer fired once, hitting the man in the shoulder and knocking him back onto the ground. People screamed and ducked for cover, fearing more shots. And behind them the carnage continued unabated.

  I couldn’t stand to watch it any longer and walked back towards the rear of the palace. This, I discovered, was where the queen’s apartments were located. There was a line of soldiers preventing anyone from going any further, so we sat down on a patch of grass and had a long drink of water from a bottle which had been given to us in the sick bay.

  There was nothing else we could do. Going outside again was no longer an option. We seemed to be safe for the time being, behind the high fences and walls, and from the increasing noise outside it was clear that things were not going well.

  Callum MacPherson

  17:10 hours, Friday 15th May, Buckingham Palace, London

  After that first man was shot by the Lieutenant it soon dawned on the crowd that we meant business. They began to scatter, dispersing to either side of the front gates. If only they had gone sooner, many might have lived. As it was, the ones who had been turned by the virus and who were pressing them from behind, were joined by a huge horde from Green Park and another that came marching down from the direction of Victoria Station, like some ghoulish army from hell.

  We shouted to people to run but there was nowhere to go. Another army of those freaks came from St James’s Park, cutting off their last chance of escape. And that was that. I looked to the Lieutenant for direction. He was still young and was absolutely frozen with fear. That he now found himself in charge of the garrison was a cruel twist of fate.

  ‘Sir,’ I shouted. ‘We have to let those people come over the gates. They’ll be slaughtered out there.’

  He didn’t move or speak. He just kept staring at the gates and the man he had shot, who had managed to get to his feet through pure adrenalin and was frantically looking for an escape route.

  I couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘Get over the fences,’ I shouted to those nearest. ‘Get over. You’re trapped.’

  One or two began to climb as the ghouls closed in on those on the extremities of the crowd. I ordered ten of the men to each side and told them to give as much covering fire as they could manage. They did their best but it was impossible. Every time they shot one it just got straight back up again. This increased the panic. Nobody knew what we were dealing with. It seemed like it was an indestructible army, bent on death and destruction.

  A lucky few managed to get over the fences and scrambled to the building, but the vast majority were eaten alive as the blood crazed mob moved in on them, clawing and tearing at them as they pulled them apart and devoured them. The injured man was one of the last. I won’t forget his face. He had his hands through the railings, begging for us to open the gate as they fell on him and pulled him into the throng. His screams only lasted for a few seconds, then the only thing I could hear was the sobbing of the few we had saved and the grinding and chewing of the dead as they feasted on their prey.

  I turned and walked back to the guard room. I felt the bile rising in my throat and, after twenty years as a soldier, twenty years of seeing some of the worst things humanity had to offer, I suddenly threw up.

  Thomas Buckle

  18:00 hours, Friday 15th May, Barking, East London

  We made it as far as Tower Hamlets, before the driver got cold feet and said he wanted to go home to his family. The radio was full of news, telling people to stay indoors. I paid him for the trip and jumped out. The streets were busy enough, but there was a feeling in the air that all was not right.

  I had to walk the rest of the way home. I couldn’t face the underground. I doubted I would ever be able to go down there again. The memories of those people on the platforms, who were lined up for a train and became food for the dead, have stayed with me to this day.

  When I finally made it home, late that afternoon, I had seen some pretty gruesome things. When I got inside the house and switched on the news the BBC were saying that the army was to be deployed on the streets and that the RAF had already flown several reconnaissance missions over the capital. I had seen a couple of jets, which was unusual, but the strangest thing was the lack of civilian airliners in the sky. They had been almost non-existent all day.

  The house was empty. That didn’t surprise me. My wife would have been at work. She was a nurse at St Bartholomew’s Hospital and I knew that she would be busy. According to the news there were thousands of casualties.

  I checked my phone. I had ten missed calls on my mobile, all from my wife, but every time I tried her phone I couldn’t get through. The system was creaking under the weight of usage.


  A lot of the neighbours were packing cases and loading their cars with anything and everything they could. Kids were being bundled in next to dogs and cats, valuables of all sorts and spare fuel cans. People were moving out for the long haul, not heeding the government’s advice.

  I decided to wait around until my wife got back. There was no way I would be able to get back into town. The footage on the evening news told me that huge parts of the city were now no-go areas, so I mooched around for an hour or so, wondering what we were going to do.

  I decided, eventually, to get prepared for leaving. If everyone else thought they would be safer elsewhere, then we should go too. The car was almost fully fuelled, which was a good start and I began to load it with as much necessities as I could find. I started with the food cupboards. I emptied them of all the tins, pasta, rice and dried food and bottles I could find. They would last the longest. There was no point taking frozen food or things that would go off.

  Once I had sorted out that and put it into boxes, I searched around for anything I could use as a weapon. Knives were the obvious things. We had a good selection and I took them all. I also found an old air rifle and some pellets. It wouldn’t be powerful enough to stop a man, but if things got really bad it might come in handy for killing the odd rabbit or bird. Also in the garage, I found a tool my wife used for weeding. It was long handled and had a sharp pointed end. I imagined it might come in handy so I threw that in as well.

  When I was finished I went back into the house and turned on the TV again. There was a military man on the screen, telling everyone that the army was in the process of deploying three thousand troops to the city. He asked that people stay off the streets and assured us that control would be regained shortly.

 

‹ Prev