The Z Infection

by Russell Burgess

  When we landed it was a bumpier affair than I had imagined. The runway was simply a grassy strip of flat land and we felt every rut on the surface.

  Laura brought us to a taxi speed and then turned around and headed back towards the loch.

  ‘Those people on the boat might be able to help us,’ she said. ‘And I don’t want to be too close to that crash site. You never know what might happen.’

  We drew to a stop and I pushed open the door. Pancho leapt out and stretched his legs, before relieving himself on a bush and then joining me by the edge of the loch. The people in the boat waved to me as they approached. It was a relief that they were friendly.

  When they landed they introduced themselves as Peter and Catriona and said that they had come from one of the islands. We were joined by Laura, who had finished all her post flight checks.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ asked Catriona.

  ‘London,’ I said. ‘Laura came from Bournemouth. What about you?’

  ‘We’re from a few different places,’ said Peter. He had a Scottish accent. ‘There are a few of us on that island. We’ve all ended up here by chance.’

  ‘We’re looking for a place to stay for a night or two,’ I said, hopefully. ‘Any chance we could impose on you?’

  They looked at one another, trying to decide what to do. Apparently the fabled Scots hospitality had suffered in the last few days and they were reluctant to invite us.

  ‘We have food,’ I ventured. ‘Quite a lot. We’ll share it out.’

  That did the trick. Food, it appeared, was the new currency.

  Before long, we had emptied most of our belongings from the plane, as well as all the fresh food we had, and we were being rowed across to the little island. How could we have known that it was to become our home and the model for resistance against the infected? Before a year was out, there were people all over the world who looked to us as an example of survival to them all.

  Kareef Hadad

  16:38 hours, Sunday 17th May, Windsor Castle HQ, Windsor

  Windsor was like paradise, compared to what we had endured in the outside world. We were given a small room adjacent to each other, in one of the wings where the staff had their accommodation. It was basic but comfortable enough and we had an en suite shower each. That was the first proper wash I had had, since the day I had gone to open my shop and saw the bus crash. I stayed under the tap for a long time, allowing the hot water to seep into me and wash away the smell of death.

  Once we had washed, we were shown into a large hall where there was hot food and drinks available. We both had chicken curry with rice and a litre of water to wash it down. It wasn’t anything like my old friend Saeed would have made, but it was passable.

  We were left to our own devices that first day there. We were allowed to go to most parts of the castle. The only place which were out of bounds were the royal apartments and anything which held sensitive military information or weapons. We were told that we would be expected to help out with the defence and with other tasks as they arose, but that formal training with an army rifle would take place the following day, once we had rested.

  I wouldn’t say that we were welcomed exactly. We were accepted, as survivors. One man said to me that we deserved our places there, just because we had managed to stay alive for so long. Anyone who could have done that, he told me, had to have some value.

  Others were not so accommodating. Some grudged us the food we were eating, while others questioned why they should fight, while we didn’t. I soon learned to ignore the ones who made disparaging comments and kept out of their way as much as I could. Luckily the majority of those inside the walls were decent people.

  Apart from the royal family there was the garrison. This was usually small, but had been augmented by a unit which had turned up just before the siege had commenced and by the remains of a contingent who had escaped from the battle of Hampton Court and had fought their way through.

  The rest of those officially supposed to be inside the castle were castle staff, the remainder of the government, their families, some scientists and other important people who could run the country in an emergency. The last group to be found was a collection of refugees, residents of nearby towns and stragglers, like myself and Sophie. This group was by far the largest, making up about two thirds of the total survivors. All in all I estimated that there were about a thousand of us.

  I met Sophie on the western battlements after dinner. She was standing staring at the infected, who were congregated in vast numbers below.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked.

  She nodded. ‘Just tired.’

  ‘At least we should be able to get a decent sleep in here tonight,’ I said. ‘This must be one of the safest places in the country.’

  She smiled. ‘It was a good idea coming here.’

  ‘Hands up,’ I said. ‘You were right.’

  We stood, watching the infected for a long time. It was almost hypnotic. They seemed like they were moving together, as if they were one living entity and not a mass of individuals. They swayed and moaned in harmony, like a fiendish chorus, reaching up towards anything that moved.

  Eventually we moved away from the wall. It was exhausting just watching them. They never tired. We walked through the grounds of the castle until it was dark. I had never been there before and I was amazed by the place. The history alone was something to behold.

  We had a coffee from one of the machines in the food hall and sat outside with them, discussing what was going to happen now.

  ‘We learn to shoot and we help out in here,’ said Sophie.

  There didn’t seem to be anything else for it, but the next thing she said surprised me.

  ‘Then, once we have the skills we need,’ she said. ‘We go and find your family.’

  Kim Taylor

  16:58 hours, Sunday 17th May, Northern Operating Base

  It had been as much a surprise to me, as anyone, when I saw the helicopters. There were four of them, flying in formation, out to the east of the palace. I guessed that they might have been the first of the relief troops, along with some fresh supplies. We had been told that all those who were unable to fight would be evacuated as soon as possible. What they hadn’t bargained for, was that we would be overrun so soon.

  They circled the palace three times. Everyone was waving frantically at them. I’m sure they didn’t know what to do and were waiting for orders. I held my breath. I was afraid that they were going to turn around and leave us there. Why would they stay? We didn’t have a chance. Even with our new tactics we couldn’t have held out for ever. We would eventually have been swamped. Sooner or later the infected would have made it onto the roof. Then we were all fucked.

  But someone was looking out for us up there, trapped on the roof of the palace. I was never a religious person, but I prayed for salvation that day. I know people, who I met after the world went to shit, who told me that they had given up on God. They had had been God-fearing, church-going Christians before it kicked off, but had turned their back on religion since. I was the opposite. I started believing.

  The helicopters hovered over our heads and the soldiers slid down ropes to join us. I tugged at Callum’s sleeve and he saw them too. It had been anarchy in the palace. The living had been fighting the dead in a contest to the finish. No prisoners, no surrender. As it had been. As would always be from now on. And it was gruesome.

  The rescue mission was in full swing as people were helped on board the choppers. Each time one was full to capacity it swung away from the roof and off into the distance, leaving the way clear for another to take its place.

  ‘Where are they going?’ I asked one of the soldiers.

  ‘We have an operational base about twenty miles from here,’ he said. ‘They’ll be dropped off there and come back for another group.’

  I wasn’t sure that we would be able to hold out that long. We were completely exhausted. Even Callum was running on his last reserves of strength.r />
  A surge of infected suddenly tried to push their way through the piles of dead. It was if they realised that we were escaping and they wanted to stop us at all costs. But our reinforcements came to the rescue, shooting into the mass with a withering fire that few of them survived. Bodies continued to pile up at the foot of the narrow stairs, making it impossible for others to get past them. We were winning.

  Before long all the helicopters had picked up as many as they could and had flown off to the safety of their base. I waited on that roof, with Ellie, for another hour, the longest one yet, until we heard the familiar sound of the returning aircraft.

  The infected made several more attempts to get to us, but each time they were beaten back, unable to break through the piles of bodies. Each time more of them were added to the heaps.

  I was on the next chopper. Callum waved me goodbye as it lifted onto the sky. He assured me he would be on the last one out, along with the rest of his men.

  As we rose higher and higher I could see now the full horror of the battle for the palace. There were tens of thousands of infected. They were everywhere. Outside, inside, in the gardens, roaming through the lawns and ripping down tents as they searched for anyone still alive.

  Thankfully many of us had escaped. It was a small victory, which felt a bit like a defeat. What was it that Churchill had said after Dunkirk? Wars are not won by evacuations. Well this one certainly wouldn’t be won by an evacuation. But the one lasting thought I had, as we drifted away from the scene, was that I couldn’t imagine the Queen ever returning to live there now.

  Xiaofan Li

  17:25 hours, Sunday 17th May, Central London

  It only took five minutes to get to the first shop. It was one of those places which sold camping gear. We broke in through a back door as the whole place was locked up. It didn’t take too long.

  We slipped through the store area and past the offices. I stopped to have a look, in case there might have been money lying around. I didn’t see any and I didn’t want to waste time trying to get into a safe, so we left it and carried on to the shop floor.

  It was a large area, full of displays of tents, footwear and clothing. I selected a good sturdy pair of walking boots and a couple of pairs of lightweight trousers, as well as two waterproof jackets with decent pockets in them.

  Claire checked the other displays. There were cooking accessories, small stoves, Swiss army knives and the freeze dried packets of food that can be boiled. I was sure they wouldn’t taste very good, but they were light and we had already talked about having an emergency escape bag, in case we ever had to leave the flat in a hurry.

  We selected the largest rucksacks we could find and stuffed the things we had taken into them. We weren’t hanging around. I had the list of items we needed and where we could get them. I had worked out a route and a plan in case we were separated. I didn’t want to be out on the streets any longer than was absolutely necessary.

  We did the same with the next two stores. One was a convenience place I knew. We picked up what we needed from it, including some bottled water which we decided we should keep and use if the mains supply was cut.

  The last place on the list was a garden shop. It was quite a walk to it but I knew it would provide us with everything we would need for our rooftop vegetable patch. I was right. Nobody would think to loot a garden centre. It had been left completely untouched.

  We scaled the outer fence and I managed to find a partially open window. I managed to open it a bit further and then squeezed through then opened the door for Claire.

  In the main shop we found dozens of packs of seeds for all sorts of fruit and vegetables. There was plenty of fertiliser and bags of compost too, but I realised they would be too heavy for us, what with all the other things we had. The flat was at least a mile away.

  It was Claire who came up with the solution, appearing around a corner pushing a wheelbarrow.

  ‘Load this up,’ she said. ‘We can take everything we need in one trip.’

  I threw three bags of compost onto it and balanced the loaded rucksacks on top.

  ‘Can you manage that?’ I asked.

  ‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘There are others around the corner.’

  I grabbed another wheelbarrow and loaded it with several more bags of compost, fertiliser and some garden tools I thought we might need. Once we were ready I found a pair of bolt cutters in the tool section and cut my way through the chain on the gate. Then we were off, pushing our wheelbarrows down the street, heading back to the flat as fast as we could go.

  We heard the odd shot from time to time. People were still alive in the city. They were fighting back, or at least fighting for their lives. Sophie had suggested that we try to find other survivors but I cautioned against it.

  ‘Those are hand guns,’ I said. ‘Who owns hand guns these days?’

  She looked blankly at me.

  ‘They’re illegal,’ I explained. ‘Only criminals own them. Do you want to let some gang members into your home?’

  ‘I never thought,’ she said.

  It was a good job we had met, I thought, as we pushed our new belongings through the empty streets, she would never have made it without me. That I had not been some lunatic with a handgun, was just her good fortune.

  ‘For a reporter you don’t have a lot of street sense,’ I said. ‘This city was dangerous enough when it was being run by the authorities and there was a police force. Now there’s danger everywhere. There are gangs who will rob us, rape us and kill us for the slightest excuse. We stick together and don’t get involved with anyone else. We can’t trust anyone.’

  She was silent for the rest of the journey. I think she thought I was scolding her. Well, I was. There was no room for complacency. One wrong move would mean certain death for both of us and if it meant I had hurt her feelings then too bad. I wanted to live.

  Near the flat we heard another two gunshots. They were really close and we ducked down an alley and waited to see what was happening. We must have been there for half an hour, lingering. It was nerve shredding. We were so close to the building but something was telling me that it was too dangerous to move.

  My instincts were right. As we hid in the alley, listening for any movement, we suddenly heard voices on the street. I caught my breath as I saw two men. They were two of the ones from the day before – the young black man and the one who was the leader of the group. Now they were alone.

  The leader was carrying what looked like a shotgun, while the black guy had a handgun and an axe. They were alert, ready. The shots had probably been fired by them. They would know that the infected would have heard them and would be homing in on the area, but they didn’t seem too bothered. It was as if they were looking for something.

  They passed by eventually, heading in the opposite direction and we took our chance.

  ‘Quietly,’ I said. ‘Let’s get to the back door and unload all this stuff.’

  We moved as fast as we could, dodging around the corner, through the car park and into the rear yard. When we reached the building I was relieved to see that the piece of wood was still in the door frame, preventing it from locking.

  I pushed the door open and we wheeled the barrows inside and parked them in the communal hallway. We slumped onto the floor, worn out from our exertions and the stress of the situation.

  After a minute or so I had caught my breath.

  ‘Let’s get this stuff upstairs and get a coffee,’ I suggested.

  I suddenly realised what I had said. Usually I would have suggested alcohol, but that was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment. I can only guess that the overwhelming desire to survive was changing me.

  We carried the first load up to the flat and dropped it off in the kitchen. We then went back twice more and before long the place was full of bags and tools. There was only one bag of compost left. I was about to go and get it when Claire said she would go, in return for me making the coffee.

  I took
the handgun out of my belt and put it behind some tins of food in one of the cupboards. This was where we had agreed it should be kept while we were in the flat. I set about boiling the kettle and getting the mugs ready as she went off down the stairs, then I began to take all the gardening things out onto the roof. I stood for a moment, breathing in the evening air. It made me feel so safe, being up there, away from the threats on the streets below us.

  There was a knock at the door and I went back through. The door had closed behind Claire when she had gone out and locked itself. I undid it and was opening it when it was suddenly pushed roughly from the other side and Claire stumbled through, falling onto the floor.

  Before I could react they were through. Two men, the ones from the street, the black guy and the leader. My heart sank as the smiling older man approached me and punched me on the side of the head.

  I fell onto the floor. My gun, I thought. But there was no way I would be able to get to it in time.

  The leader followed up his punch with a savage kick to my ribs, which knocked the wind out of me and left me gasping for air. I could see Claire. She was on the floor too, a large bruise forming under one eye.

  ‘Put them in the living room,’ the leader said.

  We were forced to our feet and shoved towards the living room. We fell onto the sofa and held one another. Claire was sobbing. I was frightened too, I have to say. This was a dangerous situation. Both men were obviously unstable and were liable to do anything at any moment. I tried to reason with them.

  ‘You can take whatever you want,’ I said. ‘We have plenty of food to go around and we’ll share it with you.’

  ‘What do you think Leo?’ said the leader, addressing the black man.

  ‘Why should we share it with them, when we can take it all?’ he said.

  I realised he was right. They were in complete control. They had the guns and we were now their prisoners, at their mercy.

  ‘Where’s the handgun?’ said the leader.

  That was the last thing I wanted to give up. ‘I lost it,’ I said.