The feelings of fear and trepidation, as I pushed open the door, were intense. Let me tell you, they never change. Any time you enter a place, where the dead may lurk, is a gamble. Every time might be your last. All you can do is be careful and ready for any eventuality. Fight or run. Always have an escape route in mind and never let your guard down. Never allow yourself a moment to relax, until you’re certain you are in a safe place.
It was a small shop, selling the usual things you would expect to find. I waited at the entrance for a couple of minutes. Your ears are often the best things to use. The dead shuffle around, always active. Making noise where it isn’t necessary. So I learned, very early, in the first days of the disaster, to listen. Any sounds and I would have been right back out of the door and cycling away as fast as I could. But it was all quiet.
There was a chilled cabinet on one side of the shop and it had several sandwiches still in it. I was actually quite surprised that the shop hadn’t been locked up. The owners must have got out as a swarm approached, fleeing with the rest of the inhabitants. That the shop hadn’t been looted was another surprise. There was still a lot of food on the shelves.
My problem was that I didn’t have anything to carry it in. I went behind the counter, hoping to find some carrier bags. There was a small door, leading into a back shop and I gave it a shove. It swung open and I almost jumped with fright. There was a man, lying in the middle of a pile of boxes. He was wearing a turban, which was about the only way I could have told that it had been a man. His face was ripped off and his throat had been torn out with a savage ferocity I found hard to imagine. The infected had been here. They must have cornered him – there was no other way out – and finished him off in there.
I turned away and left him there. I was becoming used to such scenes. All the way out here, from the centre of the city, I had seen dead people of all ages, cut down as the swarm of infected grew and caught up with them.
As I made to leave the room I noticed a bag on the floor. It was a satchel type. A man bag. It wouldn’t hold very much, but it was better than nothing and it would do until I could find something else.
I took it to the main shop and selected several packs of sandwiches, some bags of crisps and a few chocolate bars. My bike already had a water bottle attached to it and I fetched it and filled it with fresh water from a bottle in the chilled cabinet. I then filled the remaining space in the bag with some smaller bottles.
Once I was done I went back outside. The streets were completely deserted. I had never seen London like this before. It was surreal. I ate two packs of sandwiches and a chocolate bar before cycling off, heading west. I didn’t really have a plan about what I was going to do. The last text message I had received from my wife, was one telling me she had collected the kids from school and was heading for her mother’s house near Bath. I was never going to be able to cycle that far, but I decided to head west in any case. Something would present itself eventually.
It was about another two miles along the road, as I was passing Brentford FC’s football ground, when I was alerted by a whistle. I stopped and scanned the street, looking for the source.
‘Up here,’ said a voice.
I looked up and saw a figure at a window. It was a young man of about twenty, wearing glasses. He pointed to a door on the street. I wasn’t sure about going up there, but I hadn’t talked to anyone for a few hours and I wanted to know what was going on in the outside world. I decided to take a chance.
I pushed open the door and parked the bike in the lobby. Then I climbed the flight of stairs to the second floor. As I arrived on the landing a door opened slightly and a face peered out.
‘I don’t want any trouble,’ said the man. ‘But I need something to eat. Do you have any food?’
I undid the bag and pulled out a pack of sandwiches and a chocolate bar. He held his hand out, through the door but I held onto them.
‘I want something in return,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘Do you have a working TV or radio?’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘But there’s nothing on except news reports every hour.’
‘That’s what I want,’ I said.
He paused for a moment and then closed the door. I thought he had decided I was too much of a risk. Who knew what he had gone through? Then, I heard the sound of the door unlocking and the security chain being removed. The door opened and his face appeared from behind it.
‘Come in, before we get a visit from them upstairs.’
I looked up but couldn’t see anything.
‘Come in,’ he said impatiently.
I stepped into the hallway and he immediately closed the door and locked it, removing the key and putting it in his pocket.
‘Food,’ he said.
I handed him the sandwich and chocolate and he snatched them from me, tearing open the packaging and taking two huge bites. He obviously hadn’t eaten for some time.
He led me through to the living room, where the TV was switched on. A duvet was spread on the sofa and I got the impression that he was living in this room twenty-four-seven.
‘I’m Brad,’ he said. ‘Have a seat.’
I didn’t answer him, but sat in an armchair and watched, as a TV crew in a helicopter filmed a large swarm of infected and commented on them.
‘As we film this scene, to the west on Manchester, it has become apparent that there is nothing standing in the way of this swarm as it heads towards Liverpool. As we reported earlier, there is another large swarm, equal in size to this one, now travelling east from Liverpool, in pursuit of several thousand refugees from that city. The two are converging and will meet in less than an hour at present speeds. There is nothing that can be done for those refugees, other than the warning leaflets we have already dropped. They are in God’s hands now…’
‘Jesus Christ,’ I said. ‘God’s hands? Is that what we have been reduced to? Relying on God to get us out of this mess?’
‘It’s worse in other places,’ said Brad. ‘The centre of Bristol was completely destroyed by fire. Cardiff is completely cut off and there have been outbreaks in almost every city and town in the country.’
I turned back to the television. The reporter was talking again…
‘…and as I speak I can see two Apache helicopters, flying in close formation, approaching the swarm. This might be the last chance for those people trying to escape…’
Suddenly there was a burst of fire from the lead chopper as it sent a volley of rockets into the mass of bodies and followed them up by raking across the lines of infected with its machine guns, as they staggered forwards. Hundreds were killed or rendered limbless by the blasts. Once it was finished, the helicopter banked away to the left and the second one swooped in and delivered its weapon load.
It was all over in a couple of minutes. The entire arsenals of both aircraft had been delivered and yet, through the smoke, a huge army of infected still walked. The Apaches hadn’t even scratched the surface.
Brad picked up the remote control and switched off the TV.
‘I don’t want to watch anymore,’ he said. ‘They’ll show the infected killing all those refugees later. I’ve seen it so many times and I’m sick of it.’
I couldn’t argue with that. I suddenly realised that he had finished his food and was staring at my bag. I reached in and took out another sandwich, tossing it to him.
‘Do you not have any food in here?’ I asked.
He shook his head as he tore open the packaging and began to devour the meal.
‘The people upstairs,’ he said, between mouthfuls. ‘They came down and took everything I had. Said it was a tax.’
Poor sod, I thought. He wasn’t quite the full shilling and there were fuckers upstairs who knew that and were taking full advantage of him.
‘Why don’t you come with me?’ I asked. ‘I’m going west. There might be somewhere better for you there.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not leaving. I’ve seen
what’s happening on TV.’
‘But you can’t stay here,’ I said. ‘You’ve got no food.’
‘I’m not leaving,’ he repeated. ‘It’s dangerous.’
‘So is staying here,’ I said. ‘Eventually the infected will come back this way. You’ll be trapped in here.’
He shook his head. His face was a mask of fear. There was nothing I could do to persuade him to go with me. I considered showing him my warrant card and making up a story about being sent to save him, but I knew that would be wrong. Besides, he would slow me down and, if I am absolutely honest about things, I think he would have been more of a danger.
I stayed for a few hours and managed to grab some sleep, grateful for the uncomfortable, hard floor. Later, I left him there. I emptied all the food and water from my bag, onto his kitchen table and told him to ration himself. It might last him a few days if he was careful and didn’t get robbed again. I was sure I would be able to scavenge something from another shop along the way.
What happened to him? I have no idea. He was probably one of the tens of thousands who stayed in their homes and died there. We know that many did. Some starved to death, afraid to go outside. Some fell victim to roaming bands of survivors who didn’t care if they were infected or not. Others waited until they could not wait any longer and then tried, in a weakened state, to make a run for it or look for food. They were easy prey for the dead. And then there were the suicides. How many? Nobody knows, but I can tell you, that for every house and building I entered, every fourth of fifth one had someone inside who had taken the easy option.
So I cycled off to the west, determined that I would find something better. Somewhere away from the horror.
Kareef Hadad
10:58 hours, Sunday 17th May, West London
We left Thorpe Park in a daze. Of all the things we had seen, the sight of the living dead riding a roller coaster was by far the most bizarre. Their faces are still in my mind, howling at us every time they passed by.
Before we left, Sophie managed to break into one of the food stalls. In a fridge she found several packs of burgers. She put them into a bag and we walked back to the car.
‘Where do we go now?’ she asked.
I shrugged. I was out of ideas. What I really wanted was my family, but I had no idea where they were and no idea how I could find out.
We sat down on a wall, just at the entrance to the park, and shared a bottle of water.
‘What about Windsor?’ she asked.
‘I thought you said they wouldn’t let us in?’ I said.
‘They might not,’ she replied. ‘But we’ll never know unless we try. It isn’t too far from here. We could be there in an hour or so.’
We had nothing to lose. If we turned up there and they turned us away, then we would just have to think of something else. If they let us in it would mean we would be safe and I could have a rethink about how to go about finding where my wife had gone.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘We might as well try, but let’s listen to what’s on the radio first. It might give us something of an idea about what that area is like. If it’s too dangerous we don’t go.’
We went to the car and I started the engine and switched on the radio. There was a news bulletin already playing.
‘…on the motorway between Liverpool and Manchester. Reports indicate as many as ten thousand may have perished or become infected.
In other news, the government has declared a state of siege in Swansea, Sheffield, Dundee and Newcastle. The royal family remains at Windsor Castle. Government advice is to stay indoors. Do not approach the infected under any circumstances. The armed forces are preparing for a counter offensive and you will be rescued soon.’
‘So they are still at Windsor,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m happy to try to get through, if you are, but it has to be the right decision for us both.’
‘We might as well have a look,’ I said.
I had a quick look at our map, to remind myself of the route, and then turned the car out of the car park. As we left, I caught Sophie sneaking one last look at the roller coaster as it dipped down the track in the distance and disappeared from sight.
Thomas Buckle
11:00 hours, Sunday 17th May, North Weald Airfield
When I first heard the noise it took me a few minutes to work out what was going on. I had slept soundly that night and much longer than I would normally, secure in the knowledge that Pancho would wake me in the event of some of the infected finding us. Now, as the sound of the engine became louder, I sprang from my sleeping bag and ran to the window.
I couldn’t see anything from there and so ran to the door and opened it. I went out into the car park and searched the sky. There it was. A small plane, heading in to land at the airfield nearby. I went back inside and packed my things as quickly as I could. Then, calling to Pancho, I loaded everything into the boot of the car. He was into the front seat in a flash and we headed out of the car park and towards the airfield.
We were at the entrance within a minute or so. I drove through and stopped on the edge of the field. I could see the aircraft. It was on the runway, in the distance, slowing down after the landing. I couldn’t see any other aircraft in the sky, so I drove across the runway to a collection of buildings.
There were several aircraft parked nearby, all small machines with propeller engines. As I drew up to them I saw the door of the plane open. A figure stepped out. It was a woman. She looked to be about forty to fifty years old and the look of surprise on her face told me she hadn’t been expecting a visitor.
I stepped from my car.
‘Where did you come from?’ I asked.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ said the woman.
‘I drove from London yesterday,’ I said.
She walked over to the car and suddenly Pancho leapt out and ran to her. She patted him and spoke soothingly in his ear. He was loving the attention.
‘What’s it like there?’ she asked.
I remembered the morning rush hour on that first day, when I had to abandon my train and run along the tracks to safety. I remembered hearing that my wife’s hospital had been overrun by the infected, the deadly quiet streets of my neighbourhood and the close shave I had had with the swarm of infected on the motorway.
‘It’s like hell,’ I said.
‘An accurate description,’ she said, then held out her gloved hand. ‘My name’s Laura.’
‘Tom,’ I said.
‘I flew in from an airfield just outside Bournemouth, once the evacuation began,’ said Laura.
‘Evacuation?’ I said.
‘Yes, the navy are evacuating huge numbers from the beaches there,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know about that?’
I shook my head. I had heard a lot of reports on the news in the last few hours. It might have been something I heard, which then became lost among all the thousands of other news items.
‘The army is holding back the infected, while they get them off,’ she said. ‘Or at least they were. I don’t know if they still are. The word was that they were being swamped, that’s why I decided to fly out.’
‘Is this your plane?’ I asked.
She shook her head. ‘My husband’s. He disappeared yesterday. I don’t know where he is. He might have tried to get to the beach.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said.
She looked at me again. There was a tough interior to the good looking exterior.
‘Don’t be,’ she said. ‘He was a shit. Probably tried to get his girlfriend to safety first. The only good thing he ever did for me, was to give me flying lessons, otherwise I would be on that beach now too.’
‘Have you ever been here before?’ I asked. I was uncomfortable and wanted to steer her off the subject of her husband.
‘Never,’ she said. ‘I heard there was a safe zone to the north of London and this was the closest airfield I could see when I opened my map. I somehow thought things might be better up here.’
‘No chance,’ I said. ‘The city is too dangerous to be in and as far as a safe zone goes I would be surprised if it’s still there. I’m heading north.’
‘Is it safer up there? I heard that places like Manchester and Liverpool were infested.’
‘So I heard,’ I said. ‘I was planning to go even further. Scotland might be the best bet. Less population, more remote.’
‘And how were you planning to get through the midlands and the north of England?’ she asked. ‘Tell me you weren’t thinking of driving.’
I had. It seemed stupid now. The areas to the north were becoming riddled with the infected. Getting through would be difficult indeed, but remaining in the south was also dangerous. My run-in on the motorway told me that.
We chatted for a few more minutes, before Laura announced that she was hungry. The airfield seemed to be totally deserted, but we had no way of knowing if there were any infected in the buildings. The few aircraft remaining probably belonged to people who had been unable to get to them and were more than likely dead by now.
I walked to the first building, a single storey rectangular structure, and looked through one of the windows. Pancho was by my side. He made no noise at all.
‘This one is clear,’ I said.
‘How can you possibly know?’ asked Laura.
‘The dog,’ I explained. ‘He can sense when the infected are close by.’
She looked sceptical.
‘Honestly,’ I said. ‘He’s done it plenty of times already.’
I went to the door. It was locked. I gave it a shove but it wouldn’t budge. I went back to the car and got my gardening tool. I shoved it into the gap and levered it back and forth. It took a few strong efforts but eventually the lock gave and the door sprang open. It was at the expense of the tool however, as I felt the rod crack as the lock broke.
I checked it over. It was finished. It would be too weak to use as a weapon now. I would have to find something else.
I went inside the building. It was a café bar type of place with some seating.
The Z Infection Page 23