by Sean Deville
“I want you to nuke a city,” the woman had said. “It will be no great loss to the world; it is already overrun with infected. What is one more nuclear explosion when so many have already been set off today? Do that for me, and I will return your wife to you. But don’t delay, I have so many bullets left with which to use.”
So he had given the order. Their intelligence showed that the target was indeed overrun, that the local military and law enforcement had already lost the battle. As with London, the outbreak had been too widespread to be contained, hitting at the very heart of the city’s power structures. Even NATO headquarters had been lost.
“Ready for your authorisation, Mr. President,” someone said behind him, and Rodney turned to the man holding the Football, the briefcase that allowed the president to launch nuclear weapons from anywhere in the world.
“Let’s get this done,” Rodney said.
11.38AM GMT, 21st September 2015, Ghent, Belgium
Once again, Rachel felt the push on her mind that told her something was wrong, that something was coming. There was little warning this time, but it was there. She and her kind were safe where they were, but Fabrice and the infected army would be at the heart of it. No matter, the infected were already spreading out of Brussels into the surrounding countryside. Their numbers would endure. Already they were in Antwerp, Leuven, and Charleroi, the huge deserted steelworks of Charleroi the perfect backdrop to the coming decaying post-industrial world. No matter what happened now, Rachel knew she would be queen of it all. And she didn’t even know why that mattered to her.
Owen and Rasheed stood by her side. Heads bowed, groaning softly to themselves, they swayed slightly to some unheard tune. Both were totally void of meaning or intelligence except for that given to them by Rachel’s commands. Her own understanding of herself was growing by the hour. She was dead and now she wasn’t so dead, the brain rebuilding itself at the molecular level. Some semblance of who she was remained, leftovers stored in the mysteries of her human mind. She had enough understanding of language to communicate verbally with Fabrice just as the army of infected he lost were losing the last of their communication. If not for Owen controlling them, they would be chaotic, rampaging feral beasts that would slowly lose their connection with one another. Their collective mind only existed as a remnant of their humanity, some latent telepathic power that had yet to be discovered by mankind. The virus had allowed them to tap into that, but only briefly. The longer they stayed in this state, the more they degraded. It would be a matter of days now before the viral degradation of their synapsis would result in the loss of that ability. Their communal mind forged them on to spread the disease, but without Owen’s controlling influence, that would shortly give way to the overriding need to feed, and would turn on their own as well as the humans. Without Owen, the army would cease to be viable.
And Owen’s powers were increasing, his range expanding beyond all understanding, just as Rasheed’s had. When he was alive, he could only keep so many under his control for fear of their combined minds overwhelming him. Now he was freed from that, and his radius of influenced was greater than it was merely an hour before. Already, he was starting to draw those from the southern part of the UK to him, the surviving humans there spared what was coming, perhaps for a little while.
11.39AM, 21st September 2015, Sizewell B Nuclear Power Plant, Suffolk
Sid sat on the floor in the office that had been turned into his dorm room, an unlit cigarette lodged firmly between his lips. He had hoped the infected would pass them by, but that hadn’t happened. It had been foolish of him to think otherwise. They had come here just as they had everywhere else. There would be no escape for anyone on this island nation. This morning, they had come screaming at the fences. And despite the machine guns, the armoured cars and the snipers, the fences had not been enough to hold them, the volts running through the inner fence hardly seeming to faze them. By sheer force of numbers, they had pulled the fences down.
He looked down at his hand, tried to stop the shaking, the bite there angry and red, the itch definitely spreading into the rest of his hand. The teeth marks were just over the thumb. The small crescent shape, the indentation of milk teeth that had drawn blood. He still had blood on his hands where he had beaten at the child thing with an axe with a madness he didn’t even know he possessed. Nobody had seen him be attacked. Nobody had seen him cave in the skull of a child who was dirt-smeared and dressed in the remnants of a dress that once would have been described as pretty. One of the pigtails had been missing, obviously ripped from her head in some previous attack, perhaps even by the bastard that had infected her.
Sid still didn’t know how it had found him in the facility. One minute he had been running down the corridor, the next there was something small and light crawling on his back. She hadn’t weighed much, but the strength of the thing had been unbelievable.
They were everywhere throughout the buildings. Even now, he could hear gun shots from the floors above and below, the creatures obviously spreading out to overwhelm the defenders of the nuclear reactor. He had only witnessed their initial charge, hadn’t seen how they had scaled the fences in parts, broken through them in others. Didn’t see them fall upon the defenders who valiantly had tried to hold them at bay. Thousands had assaulted the wire, and there were still thousands more coming.
He had gone to make sure the technicians were safe, the ones who had been left behind, whose only purpose was to try and decommission the power plant. That was a decision made in the early days just as the quarantine was being implemented. They thought they had time; they thought it mattered. Those on the continent worried that the nuclear reactors scattered across the UK would go into meltdown, spreading radiation across northern Europe. That was before they nuked London, and Paris, and Caen.
Sid knew all this from the sergeant he had befriended. In their brief time together, they had even become lovers. He had been gay all his life and he’d hidden it, denied the truth of who he was, denied the essence of his humanity. It had taken a fucking apocalypse to finally find the guts to admit who he really was. And for those few brief days, he had been happy, happier than he had ever thought possible. And now he was dead, and nothing mattered anymore. He lit the cigarette, knowing it would be his last, the itch now maddeningly spreading up his arm.
The infected would kill or transform everyone here and then they would leave for the next conquest. And the nuclear reactor would sit there, unmaintained, slowly breaking down. Despite the precautions already taken, despite the control rods being in place, the fuel rods were still hot as hell. So even technically shut off, the reactor was only safe so long as the pumps kept working. And with no external power source, the diesel in the generators powering those pumps only had so long to run. The guys trying to fix it just hadn’t been given enough time. Sooner or later, the plant would go into meltdown, releasing more radiation into the environment.
Well, that was just peachy.
Sid drew in a deep breath. The itch was at his shoulder now. Resting by his feet was his gun, and he knew he should use it, end it right here. But he just couldn’t. So he sat and smoked and waited for what he knew was coming. He would become one of them, one of the damned. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps he would retain something of himself, some segment of his identity. Those were the thoughts that kept him going through the last minutes, through the churning in his stomach, through the pain in his bowels. His last memory as a human being was shitting his pants and wondering, in his newfound delirium, how he was going to explain that to his mother.
11.40AM, 21st September 2015, East of Newquay
Nobody said anything for there was nothing that could be said. Croft’s APC took the lead and led the two vehicles off the edge of the field onto a small deserted farm road. The satnav linked to the military GPS satellites still in orbit showed Snow the rough heading he needed to go in. The small dirt track quickly joined onto a single lane country road, and Snow steered the metalli
c beast in the general direction of the airport. The APC was tough, but not tough enough to plough through the trees that were all around them.
Croft, after climbing back into the APC, had gone into the back and sat next to Savage. The two other passengers, Alexei and Sterling, kept their awkward silence, the ride now not so bumpy. Snow began to pick up the pace, Vine driving behind him as close as was safe to do so. Croft felt a hand grab his, and he turned to look at Savage whose eyes were moist.
“Will we make it?” she asked.
“Yes, we’re nearly there now.” Croft didn’t know if he believed what he said or not.
They weren’t even close, of course, life having several more surprises in store for them still. Unseen by all but those driving, the road had widened out where it passed through a small collection of farm buildings, most of which were now derelicts. Snow saw the flames still coming from one. The war had reached out to all corners of the English country it seemed.
The road curled around to the left, and Croft found he wasn’t surprised when the APC came to a halt.
“We’ve got problems,” Snow said. Croft gave Savage’s hand a last gentle squeeze and then stood up from his seat to join Snow at the front.
“What is it?” Croft enquired.
“See for yourself.” Snow moved to let Croft look through the periscope once again, and saw something that made his heart sink. In the middle of the road, blocking their path, was a young girl. She was sat with what looked like a teddy bear in her lap, her face smeared with dirt, her clothes flimsy and ripped. Croft could hear the faintest of sobs coming from her over the sound of the idling engine. Fuck me, will we never get a break here?
“Is she infected do you think?”
“Hard to tell. I don’t think so.” Snow looked at Croft who just shook his head. “I’ll edge this thing forward and see what happens.” Snow did just that, slowly advancing the APC forwards. The girl looked up at the huge behemoth moving towards her, and began wailing. As the vehicle approached, she jumped to her feet with a screech of terror and fled off into one of the side buildings. The sound of her fright was audible to those in the back.
“Was that a child?” Sterling asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we have to help her,” Sterling insisted.
“Do not be foolish,” Alexei roared all of a sudden. His outburst was loud and unexpected because he had hardly said a word since getting into the APC. “We have lost half our number already. Who is she, this child? We know not if she is infected. We leave her and we go.” The Russians face was red, his fists balled. He looked like he wanted to smash something. Sterling visibly recoiled from the huge Russian, but she didn’t back down.
“But we can’t just leave her,” Sterling implored.
“Yes, Clarice, yes we can,” said Savage. “We have to. There’s no way we can help her. Not now.” Alexei looked at Savage, a smile suddenly erupting on his face.
“See, she is right. Listen to this lady.”
“But…” Sterling’s further protests were cut off by Croft slamming the metal wall.
“Get her moving, Snow,” he said loudly. Croft felt nothing for the child. How could he with millions across the country already dead?
As was to be expected, their bad luck continued. One minute after the child had fled from them, they entered a sort of courtyard.
“I feel like the character in a chuffing horror novel,” Croft had remarked. The exit from the farm property was via a bridge that went over a stream, a stream that was impossible for them to cross any other way. Not without taking a long, rambling detour that would lead them God only knew where. The stream was too wide and the banks were too steep. The problem wasn’t the stream so much, or the bridge. The problem was the thick metal barrier that blocked the way. Snow didn’t think he could force his way through it with the APC; it looked pretty sturdy, likely set deep into the ground in concrete. The bridge itself was fine, obviously used to ferrying farm traffic, but the consensus was that somebody would have to get out and open the gate for them. To either side of where they waited were further buildings, more residential in nature now and visually relatively untouched by the holocaust. Whoever owned the farm obviously lived here. Were they still alive, Croft found himself thinking? Was this where the little girl lived?
“Ahhhh, this fucking country,” Alexi roared. “Give me gun, I will fix this.” Sterling handed him the gun warily. Croft cracked open the hatch and quickly looked around through the thin space before opening it fully. There was nothing overhanging them, and he rose his torso out into the air, a cool breeze bringing the odours of distant battle. The farm looked deserted. He felt a tug on his leg, and looked down to see Savage holding a large bottle of bleach for him.
“Can’t be too careful.” Croft agreed. There was no telling what was coating the upside of the APC, and he poured it liberally all around. Dr. Shah had shown from his tests on Gavin that bleach had the desired effect on the virus, killing it almost instantly. At least there was something that could kill it. He also poured it over the handles of the machine gun, finally soaking the palms of his leather gloved hands with it. Croft flung the empty bottle away.
“Okay, go.” Alexei stepped to the rear of the APC and opened the back door.
“Your countryside stinks of shit,” Alexei said, stepping out of the vehicle. It took twenty steps to reach the gate, and he quickly saw that it was closed but not locked. Pulling the latch, he started to move the heavy gate to one side, its hinges squeaking loudly. He might as well have been sending up a flare for the world to see.
Sterling stood half in, half out, the SA80 firmly in her hands. She was a sky jockey, but she had training in ground combat too. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like it one bit, especially when she heard rustling in one of the hedges behind the second APC.
“Movement,” she said, and Croft brought the mounted gun round to point in that direction. The frightened dirty face of the little girl emerged for the briefest of moments, and then retreated back behind the hedge. Sterling took a step towards her, only to hesitate as her own instinct to help was smothered in fear. What if she was infected? What if any second now, she spawned into one of those things. What if there were others around? They were in the middle of the courtyard, but those creatures could move so damned quick, could spring from between any of the buildings like lightning. But what if the girl wasn’t infected? What if they were the only chance the girl had to live? She took another step.
Alexei finished with the gate and came around the side of the APC, intent on getting back into safety as quickly as he could. He gave the vehicle a wide birth because there was stuff all over the side of it that he didn’t want to get within spitting distance of. It could have been anything.
Just as he caught sight of Sterling, just as he was about to hurl some more wisdom at her for being outside the APC, he experienced a violent fist that smashed into the side of his head. Alexei felt himself propelled sideways, crashing into the metallic side of the APC, the other side of his head clanging off the metal. His vision blurred and a pain like a jackhammer clawing through his head as he collapsed to the floor. It hadn’t been a fist, it had been a bullet.
“FUCKING ZOMBIES,” came a shout from one of the buildings. “GET OFF MY FUCKING LAND, YOU UNDEAD MOTHERFUCKERS.”
Croft had already swung the gun ‘round at the sound of the shot, and when the second report fired, the round zipping past him, Croft had his target. He unleashed hell into the farmhouse window, no longer caring who was in there. The glass and the frame around it disintegrated and Croft saw the person who had fired the shot dance as the bullets ripped through him. He didn’t stop firing though; he needed to make sure, needed to be certain the threat was neutralised. To come this far only to be attacked by a fucking farmer. Fuck me.
Alexei lay on his side on the road and couldn’t figure out if he was dead or if he was alive. The shot had taken a chunk of his scalp off, gouging the skull but fortunately not pen
etrating the bone. He tried to get up, but everything swam and he found he couldn’t control his limbs. Even as a child starving to death in the gutters, he’d never felt this helpless. As strong as he was, all that power was irrelevant now, and his size actually worked against him, his bulk too much for him to lift. Then he felt hands on him, someone swearing at him with an American accent.
“Get to your feet, you big Russian bastard.” He tried to do as he was ordered, and managed to get to his knee, but he collapsed down again, blackness almost taking him into its loving embrace. He was too big for Sterling to lift as well. Like him, she suddenly felt helpless, and she hated feeling like that. Her whole life had been about proving that she was as good as any man, proving to her father what he secretly already knew.
That was when the screaming little girl came running out of her hiding place, three infected following right behind. That was when Sterling’s world really went to shit. Everything up until that point had just been a tease for the main event. Is madam ready for the main course now?
Savage saw the girl run past the back of the APC, then witnessed the three infected in pursuit. She heard gunshots, heard someone shout something.
“We’ve got infected,” Savage screamed to Snow.
“Get the fuck back inside,” Savage heard Croft shout, and she heard Croft open up with the gun again. Everything suddenly went into slow motion, tracer rounds visible as they flew past the open APC hatch, the ground outside being churned up by stray bullets.