In a high chair, by the table in the centre of the room, was a baby of no more than about a year old. His eyes were grey and dead and his skin was covered in lesions. He rocked back and forth in his chair, making the most awful noises as he reached towards Kareef. He must have been there since the beginning. Of all the sights I had seen, this was the worst yet. I couldn’t imagine the feelings of the parents as they had fled, leaving their child where he sat. Perhaps they too were dead.
It would have been merciful to have put the child down, there and then, but I couldn’t do it and neither could Kareef. We filled the bottles and quickly checked the fridge for food, grabbing a couple of packs of sliced meat and some sausages.
Then, leaving the child sitting in his high chair, moaning and salivating, perhaps for the rest of time, we went back out into the yard.
I was almost at the car when I stopped and was sick. Kareef put our looted food into the back seat and then offered me a drink of water. I swilled out my mouth, getting rid of the pieces of sick and the awful taste, then took a long drink.
‘The children are the worst ones,’ he said.
‘By far,’ I said. ‘Somehow I don’t mind the adults so much. But kids shouldn’t end up like that.’
‘I should have ended it for him,’ said Kareef. He was feeling guilty and I understood that.
‘I just can’t do it,’ I said. ‘It’s too hard, killing another person. Even if they are infected.’
Kareef started to say something and then suddenly stopped. He was looking beyond me, out through the gap between the buildings and into the fields. I turned and looked and my heart sank. Out among the growing corn, were a number of figures, shuffling towards the farm.
‘In the car,’ said Kareef wearily.
We both jumped in and he reversed out of the yard. As he did so, I noticed several other figures on the road. There was no going back now. We would have to find a way through.
Kareef floored it and we raced down the track, wheels spinning as we went. About two hundred metres further on, we came to another cluster of buildings, mostly barns and sheds. At the entrance to one of the barns we saw two figures, a man and a woman, hanging by their necks from one of the rafters. We didn’t say a word to one another, but we both knew they were the parents of the child.
Further down the track we came to a small stream. There was a bridge crossing it, which had seen better days. I doubted that it would take the weight of the car.
‘You get out,’ said Kareef. ‘That will reduce the weight slightly and you can guide me across.’
I jumped out and stepped onto the structure. It was narrow and the wood looked like it was rotting away in places. I waved Kareef forward and he gingerly drove onto it.
The infected were still coming. I could see the lead ones as they began to emerge from the farmyard. I urged Kareef forward, willing the bridge to remain intact. If it gave way now, he and the car would end up in the river and I would be at the mercy of the dead.
The structure groaned and protested at the weight of the car, the timbers creaking and bowing with it. But they held and Kareef managed to steer the car across it and onto the other side, just as the first of our pursuers planted her first foot on the bridge.
I jumped back in and we sped off again. The track led around a couple of fields. It wasn’t great, but we guessed that it had, at one time, been used by local farmers and must go somewhere.
We were right. The track emerged to a narrow tarmacked road and Kareef took it gratefully, increasing the speed of the car as we sped along, past fields and houses.
At the end of this road we discovered we were in a small village. We passed through it at a more sedate pace, looking for road signs. In the centre of the village was a crossroads and a sign pointing to Windsor. There was also one pointing to the racecourse and Kareef took this one, using the logic that the course might be on the periphery of the town and maybe less infested.
All along that road we saw infected people. They seemed to be increasing after every turn and I was beginning to regret the decision to come to Windsor.
By the time we made it to the edge of the racecourse we were really up against it. There were infected everywhere. They seemed to be coming out of every field and building we passed and we sped on, not knowing how we were going to get out of this one.
On the racecourse Kareef stopped and got onto the roof.
‘There are hundreds of them,’ he said as he jumped back into the driver’s seat. ‘I’ll make for the river.’
We drove as fast as we could, heading for the sanctuary. We had heard, on one of the bulletins that the infected were unwilling to get into the water. Many people had been saved by swimming to small islands on rivers and lakes. In the Cumbrian Lake District there were thousands living on the islands there.
We didn’t get as far as the river, however. As we approached a clump of bushes two figures, both dressed in camouflage uniforms, suddenly leapt out, pointing guns at us. Kareef was shocked but managed to hit the brakes and come to a stop.
‘Let’s see hands,’ shouted one of them. We both put our hands out of the window to show we were unarmed.
One of them came and opened Kareef’s door while the other covered him.
‘Please,’ said Kareef. ‘We only wanted to get to the water. There are infected everywhere.’
The man looked up. He could sense the urgency in Kareef’s voice.
‘We should go,’ he said to his comrade.
We all ran towards the river. As we arrived there I could hear shooting. One of them had stayed behind to cover us.
I was so relieved when we got there and found more men and a boat. There was a quick conversation as they discussed whether we should be allowed to go with them. Thankfully common sense prevailed and we were about to be allowed on board, when we all stopped. There was sound. A beautiful sound. It was the best thing I had heard in days.
I looked up and saw a helicopter. It made a low pass before swooping back towards us and firing at the ranks of infected, supporting the lone soldier.
‘In the chopper now,’ said one of the others.
Kareef and I looked at each other in apprehension.
‘You too,’ said the man and pushed us towards the waiting helicopter.
We ran as fast as we could, ducking our heads as we got closer to it and then leaping on board. The man using the machine gun seemed surprised to see us, but he returned to his job quickly, as the others joined us. He must have killed dozens of the infected, before the last soldier jumped aboard and we took off.
I remember looking down at the thousands of outstretched arms as we rose into the sky and left them there. In a matter of a minute or two we were over the castle, passing over the heads of tens of thousands of the infected, who had surrounded it.
When we landed, a short time later, I felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of relief.
Anthony Ballanger
13:15 hours, Sunday 17th May, Windsor Castle HQ, Windsor
When I received the good news, that Dr Bryson had been picked up and was safely inside the castle walls, I slipped on my shoes and took a walk down to the central lawn. The helicopter was there. The rotor blades had all but stopped and there were several people hanging around, including General Breck.
I approached and saw Dr Bryson. He saw me and held out his hand, which I shook warmly.
‘I’m so relieved that you are safe,’ I said.
He looked beyond me. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Where’s the Prime Minister? I have some important information for him.’
‘The PM has been confined to his rooms for the time being,’ I said. ‘He has been removed from office by royal decree.’
He looked at me, confused.
‘I’ll explain it all later,’ I said. ‘In the meantime I am in temporary charge, supported by his Royal Highness, The Prince of Wales.’
We walked to the building, where my offices and private quarters were located, chatting as we went.
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br /> ‘What’s it really like out there?’ I asked.
I had seen plenty on TV and got regular reports from various sources, but I hadn’t been out on the streets like the doctor and I was eager to hear what it was like from someone who had seen it at first-hand. He just shook his head.
‘It’s dangerous Anthony,’ he said. ‘Without those SAS men I would never have survived for more than a few hours.’
We went to my office and took a seat. A member of the royal staff came in with a tray of coffee and we sat drinking it and talking through the current situation. Dr Bryson had only heard snippets of news. He didn’t know about Bournemouth or the north and I filled him in on as much of the small detail as I could manage.
But I was more interested in what he could tell me. We still didn’t really know what we were fighting against and I hoped he had the answers.
‘This is something extremely toxic,’ he told me. ‘It is highly contagious and seems to affect the brain primarily. It shuts down most body functions and major organs, but the brain is still active until the virus is destroyed.’
‘How do we destroy it?’ I asked.
He shifted in his seat. It was an uncomfortable question and his answer was no less easy to digest.
‘You have to kill the host,’ he said.
‘The host?’
‘The body is merely a vessel for the virus to move around. It needs something to get it from one place to another. If you destroy the host, the virus cannot survive for long.’
‘And how do you do that?’ I asked.
‘Piercing the brain seems to work,’ he said. ‘The trauma seems to be enough to destroy the virus. I don’t know much more about the mechanics of it, but we tested the theory a few times. Shooting a host in the body will not kill it. A head shot does.’
This was news to me. Up until that point we hadn’t had any absolute guarantees about how to deal with the problem. Now Dr Bryson was providing some at least.
‘And what about a cure?’ I asked. This was what I really wanted to know. Could we help those who were infected?
He shook his head. ‘I don’t have any reason to believe there would ever be any cure for this,’ he said.
I was stunned by his apparent resignation to the idea.
‘Why on Earth not?’ I asked. ‘We’ve found cures for other diseases that looked like they would wipe us out, why not this one?’
His next words were incredulous.
‘The infected cannot be cured. Because they are already dead.’
Chapter Fourteen
Anna Hasker
14:00 hours, Sunday 17th May, Loch Leven, Kinross-shire
I rowed back across the loch, with one of the men from the island, a guy called Dave. On the way across he told me he had escaped from Perth, a city a few miles to the north, after it had exploded in violence. He had driven south, expecting to find some safe haven and had ended up in the nearby town. Pretty soon, he told me, the infected had shown up and he had ran for his life with hundreds of others. What had saved him was the island. He had swam across at night, expecting it to be overrun the next morning. But the infected never came. They stayed on the shoreline, refusing to enter the water. It was a miracle, he said. I didn’t believe in miracles then and I don’t to this day. In fact I don’t even believe in God any more. Not after all the crap that happened. But he did and I wasn’t going to challenge him with some theological debate.
By the time I was halfway across I could see Mike and the kids. They came out of the trees and stood on the shore and, as the hull of the little boat came to rest on the sandy beach, Mike paddled out and steadied it for us as we climbed out.
I did a quick round of introductions and told Mike that we would be joining the others on the smaller island. I think he thought that was a mad idea for a start, but I explained that there was enough room for us all. He liked the idea of the ruined castle though.
Before long we had packed all our things onto the boat. Mike put out the fire with some sand but left the shelter intact.
‘You never know,’ he said. ‘Someone might have use of that sometime.’
We rowed back across the loch and tied the boat to a small jetty which was located on the west east side, well out of the view of prying eyes.
We were welcomed by the others and the children and Mike were given some hot food while I chatted to Dave. He seemed to be in charge, but he didn’t like the idea of it. He was a quiet man and didn’t have many ideas, other than just day-to-day survival. I, on the other hand, knew that if we were going to survive we would need to be ready to face almost anything.
I started by taking a walk around the island with him. It wasn’t huge but it had a few advantages over the larger one we had just come from. For a start it had the castle. It wasn’t much to look at, but there was a small tower and a wall which went all the way around. The wall was in good condition, with the keep occupying one corner and a small turret at the other end. There was only one entrance, through a narrow gate, which could be closed and, if we could find the means, locked. The tower didn’t have a roof, but the cellar was covered and would offer some protection from the elements.
The other advantages were two small jetties, one on either side. If we could find boats we would be able to tie them up securely. We would have ready a means of escape and we could also use them to fish from.
On either side of the castle it was thickly wooded. This, I hoped, would mean that we would have enough firewood to last in the short term, while we could use some of the trees for construction.
My main concern, however, was food.
‘What do you have to eat?’ I asked.
Dave shrugged. ‘Not much,’ he said. ‘A couple of groups came from the mainland just after I arrived here and they had some provisions, but we are steadily working our way through them. What we have won’t last for long. And with more mouths to feed…’
He didn’t finish the sentence. There was no need. I knew that four extra people were going to have a serious impact on their resources.
‘That has to be our first priority,’ I said. ‘Without proper food we are doomed.’
‘But there are infected people all around,’ he said. ‘The town is crawling with them.’
I walked onto the small jetty and gazed across the water to the town. It wasn’t far. There were one or two infected walking on the shoreline. Could they tell that we were there? I couldn’t be sure, but everything about them seemed to suggest they might be able to smell us, even if they couldn’t see us. Or maybe they just had a sense that we were there.
It wouldn’t be easy going over there, into their territory, but we had to do it. We needed food. We needed other supplies. The island was good and it offered us a degree of protection, but without proper tools, shelter, food and supplies, we would suffer the same fate as millions of others.
In that moment I had made my decision.
‘We’ll cause a diversion,’ I said.
Thomas Buckle
16:30 hours, Sunday 17th May, Loch Leven, Kinross-shire
The flight north was something to behold. I realised, by the time we had reached the midlands, that there was no way I would ever have made it through on my own. And certainly not in a car.
We passed columns of refugees on many occasions. Around the Coventry area it seemed to be particularly bad, but Derby and Nottingham were also seriously affected. By the time we reached Sheffield and then Leeds, it was clear that we were fighting a losing battle.
Tens of thousands of infected roamed the streets of cities and towns. And those were just the stragglers. The main bodies, or swarms, had moved out of the built up areas and were in pursuit of the survivors. It was incredible to see it from the air. Massed groups, as far as the eye could see, traversed fields and moors as they hunted for food.
‘How will we ever go back to what we had?’ I was asking myself the question, but Laura answered.
‘I don’t think we ever will,’ she said.
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nbsp; It was horrifying to see. We were almost God-like, safe in the sky, watching as millions perished beneath us. I felt shameful. I didn’t feel like I had earned my survival.
When we reached the border area between Scotland and England we noticed a difference. There were still lines of refugees and many swarms of infected, but it wasn’t on the same scale as further south. Outside the town of Hawick we saw a huge camp. There must have been ten thousand people there, all camped on a hillside, just sitting around and waiting. They were directionless and afraid. It’s a guess, of course, we didn’t talk to them, but it was the impression I got. It was a sense of quiet acceptance of what was about to come.
By the time we reached Edinburgh, Laura was tired. I had been poring over the maps of airports and smaller airfields since we had left. There were several in the borders but the sight of those people had put us off landing there. Laura suggested somewhere around Edinburgh itself. We headed for the National Museum of Flight, where there was a runway we could have landed on, but again, when we arrived there, it wasn’t suitable to be on the ground. The area was teeming with infected.
So we carried on, across the Firth of Forth and into The Kingdom of Fife. At Glenrothes we turned west. I had seen something on the map and I pointed it out to Laura. She gave me the thumbs up. It was worth a try.
When we arrived I could see that it wasn’t an airfield as such, but a gliding school. There were several of the aircraft lying scattered around the field, but the most concerning thing was the burned out wreckage of an airliner. It had obviously crash-landed and had gone through a building, taken out fuel tanks and erupted in flame. Now there was almost nothing left of it, except a smoking shell and a few charred bodies lying nearby.
We circled the field twice, before I declared it to be clear. On the second pass I saw a boat on the nearby loch. It had two people in it and they were waving to us as we made our final descent. That raised my hopes.
The Z Infection Page 26