Journal of the Living

by John Moralee

  Dex’s plan was to use a modified form of that trick on the Pure Bloods, sneaking me inside their Oxford base.

  “The Pure Bloods send out zombie patrols on a random schedule,” he told me, as I studied a map of the city. “They go out, spend up to a week hunting zombies and catching the living to take back as prisoners, then return to the base. A typical patrol consists of a lead vehicle – a Jeep, say – and a few trucks carrying over a dozen soldiers. The soldiers are always a mix of veterans and new recruits – so they probably won’t know each other too well. That’s good for us. You are going to sneak aboard a truck and pose as one of them. They should be so tired after a week of zombie killing that they won’t realise you don’t belong with them. They’ll drive you straight through the checkpoint into Oxford. Once inside, you’ll be free to look for your friends and destroy their helicopter for me. I’m going to send you in with one of my most loyal soldiers, who will help you on your mission as long as you help us. Maggie!”

  His second-in-command, Maggie, entered the room immediately, which meant she had been standing outside, probably listening and guarding Dex. “I volunteered to go with you to make sure the job’s done right. I know Oxford well. You’d never know how to act like a Pure Blood if you went on your own, getting yourself caught. Just do what I say when I say it, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “You were with the Pure Bloods. Won’t they recognise you?”

  “No. I didn’t have any friends.”

  That didn’t come as a surprise. Maggie had been openly hostile to me since my arrival. I wasn’t keen to work with her, even if we had a common goal. “Wouldn’t it be safer if I went in alone, Dex? They don’t know me.”

  “True – but you don’t know their procedures. Maggie will show you how to act like a Pure Blood soldier.”

  “Great,” I said. “Now, how exactly are we going to get into one of their patrol vehicles?”

  “I’ve been monitoring their coms. I already know the location of a patrol. They’ve been on patrol in a town they’ve been clearing of zombies just north of here. They’re heading back to Oxford tomorrow morning. They’ll be tired and eager to get there – so they won’t be vigilant about a couple of extra soldiers joining their ranks. While they are distracted, you and Maggie will slip into one of their trucks. Hopefully they won’t notice a couple of extra passengers joining the ride.”

  “Hopefully?” I said. “What if they do notice?”

  “It’s simple. They’ll kill you.”

  Maggie was grinning. “Come with me, Mr Civilian. You need to change into a Pure Blood uniform.”

  I was soon dressed in a soldier’s uniform that made me feel like a Nazi war criminal. Maggie inspected me, shaking her head. She was also wearing a Pure Blood uniform – but she looked comfortable wearing hers. With her body hidden under a combat jacket, her head shaved, her androgynous features could pass for male or female. She started frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “You don’t look right,” she said. “Your hair’s too long. They keep their hair short or shaved off completely. Less for the zombies to grab onto. You’ll have to shave it off.”

  I touched my hair and imagined it gone. Goodbye, hair. Hello, skinhead. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  “That’s not all. You look too civilian.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Pure Bloods aren’t afraid of getting bitten or scratched because they are immune. You need a zombie bite mark somewhere to fit in.”

  My eyes bugged out. “I’m not getting myself deliberately bitten. I could get infected.”

  “Idiot. I’m talking about a fake bite mark. I’ll sort out that. You shave your head. There’s a razor in this bag.”

  Ten minutes later, I was rubbing my hands over my bare scalp when Maggie returned with some sterilising alcohol and a set of false teeth probably from the mouth of a dead old lady. Maggie sterilised my hand and the plastic teeth – then hammered the teeth into the soft flesh on the back of my hand. They left some nasty-looking imprints just like a fresh zombie bite, oozing fresh blood. I was sure she took some pleasure in hurting me.

  “That’s better,” she said as my blood ran from the wound. “I’ll cover it with a bandage so it doesn’t get infected for real. Then you’ll just look like you’ve been in a proper combat situation. Show them your wound if you need to prove you’re one of them.”

  The last thing we did before leaving involved getting some Pure Blood weapons from the supply hidden in an attic. The Family had plenty of guns. Unfortunately they didn’t have much ammo. They needed what they had to defend themselves against zombies and other bad people. Dex provided me with an empty automatic rifle, saying, “I can’t give you any bullets – it’s just for show – so if you want to load it you’ll have to nick some from them. Here’s your own gun for emergencies, which is still loaded. I’ve fitted a silencer so it can be used if you need it. Don’t use it unless you have no choice. Keep it hidden from the Pure Bloods.”

  As Maggie collected her weapon, I noticed Dex did give her half a clip of ammo, which didn’t seem fair.

  “How come she gets ammo for her weapon, Dex? You told me you couldn’t spare any.”

  “Spare any for a civilian. Maggie knows how to handle it. She won’t waste it.”

  Maggie grinned. “I’m ready, boss.”

  “Good luck,” Dex said. “Give them hell.”

  A black Ford Mondeo was parked in the market square with the engine running. The driver drove us to a mile of the town where the Pure Bloods were patrolling – then he left us to make our way into the town on foot.

  Maggie and I arriving at the town after dark. It was easy to see the Pure Bloods had taken over because they did not hide their presence. The town was lit up with powerful arc lights turning night into day. Soldiers were on the streets looting anything valuable. Their vehicles were parked in a supermarket’s car park, their headlights blazing. I saw three army trucks, a lorry, a Land Rover, and another vehicle that looked like it had belonged to a scrap dealer. That vehicle was a white truck with a high-walled metal cage on the back. Normally it would have been filled with scrap metal – but it was filled with captured civilians. I counted twenty-three captives – ten men, eight women and five kids. They looked terrified. They’d all be going back to Oxford for injection with infected blood. Maybe one or two would survive that process – only to be turned into Pure Bloods. I felt my heart beating in my ears and had to look away.

  Snipers were on the roofs of some buildings, keeping a watch. Luckily for me, Maggie knew about them. She sneaked us past the perimeter guards before we let ourselves be seen. Then we acted like the other soldiers – helping with the loading of goods into the back of the lorry. I was sure we’d get noticed – but the Pure Bloods were not looking for people in uniforms. We blended right in.

  At dawn their captain gave the orders to clear out – so Maggie and I joined the soldiers in the back of an army truck. Maggie sat beside me. More soldiers pushed into the back with us so we were shoulder to shoulder with the enemy. Once the truck was full, I didn’t say a word, trying to stay invisible in the semi-darkness. I studied the faces of the men and women working for the Pure Blood Army. I expected to see some trace of evil in their eyes – but most looked like regular people who happened to have the right genes or whatever to make them immune. Only a handful of the recruits looked like complete psychos. We waited to leave for what seemed like hours. Eventually a weary sergeant looked in the back.

  “Anyone done a head count?” he said.

  “No, sir,” a soldier answered.

  I had a sinking feeling as I looked at Maggie. She didn’t react – except for nerve pulsing in her neck. A head count was bad news. If they counted two extra soldiers among them, I knew we were as good as dead.

  I touched the gun hidden under my jacket as the sergeant started counting.

  ENTRY THIRTY

  The Pure Blood sergeant started counting heads
– but his heart wasn’t in it. After counting to six he stopped and sighed. “Oh, forget it. There’s obviously nobody missing. Hell – looks like you boys and girls are crammed in there like sardines. Let’s get back to the base for some well-deserved R&R!”

  My hand relaxed on the gun hidden in my jacket as the soldiers cheered. The laziness of their sergeant was a miracle. He closed up the rear door, shutting us in the dark interior lit just by the light coming through under the door. I sighed with relief once we were on the road. The vehicle’s engine was so thunderously loud nobody bothered with conversation, which was good because I didn’t want to talk to the Pure Bloods. I settled back for the journey, praying we would have another miracle when we arrived at Oxford. There was still the checkpoint to pass through. What if they had a more vigorous security routine?

  Amazingly, Maggie closed her eyes for a nap like the whole situation didn’t bother her, but I stayed awake and nervous. I could never relax enough to sleep surrounded by Pure Bloods. If they found out I was not one of them …

  For hours I listened to the rumble of the truck, wishing I knew how far we had travelled. There was no way of knowing that until the truck reached its destination. I was feeling my bottom going to sleep when we stopped suddenly. The engine switched off, replaced by the creepy moan of zombies. I feared we’d driven into a herd of them on the road – but judging by the relaxed faces of the soldiers it was the sound of the zombies in the trench around Oxford. Maggie yawned and checked the time on her watch. She nodded. We were at Oxford. The back doors opened and hard sunlight poured in, rudely wakening the sleeping soldiers.

  Their sergeant was standing outside showing his ID to a checkpoint guard in black body armour. Another soldier peered into the truck with a weapon raised. He spoke into a radio.

  “R4 is back,” he said. “Yes, sir. Okay – you can go ahead.”

  The sergeant banged on the side of the truck.

  And then we were on the road again.

  ENTRY THIRTY-ONE

  The army truck stopped for a second time and the sergeant opened the back again. “Okay – everyone get out. We’re home. Get yourselves out of those dirty uniforms and get a good shower, you filthy maggots. Nobody wants to smell you right now.”

  The Pure Bloods climbed off the truck. I joined them, standing outside a college building in the heart of Oxford. The other vehicle – the one containing the prisoners – drove past me on its way somewhere else. Every face pressed against the bars looked afraid. They had a right to be. I knew their fate.

  I hated the soldiers around me laughing and joking about the things they had done on their mission. I overhead some talking about shooting the bikers. So, they had been involved in that massacre? Great. I smiled and pretended I was just like them, while I got my bearings.

  I was on Oxford’s High Street surrounded by beautiful college buildings. It was weird being in Oxford after Day One. It used to be known as the “City of Spires” for its beautiful Gothic skyline of towers, but it should be renamed the “City of Spikes.” The Pure Bloods loved spikes. That was clear the moment I stepped out off the truck and saw a pile of mutilated, rotting zombies on spikes set in the middle of a college’s grassy quadrangle. There was a banner above the undead flapping in a light breeze, with a message on it: Know Thy Enemy. Stay Pure. There were more spikes on movable barricades near to several strategically important buildings. Maggie explained to me the barricades could be shifted quickly to block an attack of zombies if the primary defences were breached – which seemed unlikely considering the whole of Oxford had a formidable zombie-blocking trench around it. Looking down one road to my south, I could see a rows of iron spikes where the trench ran along the riverbank of the Isis, which was what the Upper Thames was called in Oxford. It looked like the river had teeth.

  Maggie and I mixed among the crowd as the soldiers headed for a cloistered building that looked like an ancient monastery of stone towers and dreaming spires. The Pure Bloods hurried through the cloisters into the building – but Maggie and I paused and waited behind a pillar until we were alone.

  “Where are we?”

  “We’re in the south-east area of the base near Christ Church,” she said. “It’s a barracks now.”

  “Have they turned all the colleges into barracks?”

  “No – just Christ Church, Oriol, Merton and Corpus Christi. The other buildings are used for keeping supplies … or for research.”

  “What kind of research?”

  “I haven’t a clue. I know they have a lot of lab equipment in those buildings – but I didn’t have the clearance level to go in. You’d have to have a Level 6 pass. I was just a Level 1.”

  “What do you think goes on?”

  “I heard rumours of them doing biological experiments on zombies – but I never mingled with the scientists. They keep to themselves. They live in a different part of the city from the soldiers. I think they’re working on a cure. At least I hope they are working on a cure. The Pure Bloods could be doing something else, for all I know.” She sighed. “We better get moving before someone notices us, Ben. Just follow me and act like a soldier.”

  My plan to save Angela and Neal depended on finding them alive and well – so I was eager to start my search. But I also had a second part to my mission that I could not ignore either. I had agreed to help The Family destroy the helicopter used by the Pure Bloods. Maggie showed me where the landing zone was – in a field, heavily guarded inside a compound inside the compound. We went into an unguarded building for a better look from above. We were in an empty library filled with millions of books that would never be read again. W climbed some stairs to the roof. From the rooftop, we spied down on the compound, getting a far clearer view. I could see most of Oxford below me. Everything looked idyllic like in a Turner painting – except for the presence of the Pure Bloods and their love of spikes.

  Maggie looked down over the side of the roof, keeping her body flat on the ground. “Damn it. The security’s tighter than it was. They definitely don’t want someone nicking their precious helo. There’s two watchtowers and sixteen guards. It’s going to be hard to get close. Maybe …” She shook her head. “No. I can’t think of a good idea. I need time to figure something out.”

  She rubbed her eyes wearily.

  “Okay,” I said. “Take the time. But what about Angela and Neal?”

  “What about them?”

  “I need to find them now. Where will they be?”

  Maggie faced me. “If Angela’s alive and being treated for her injuries, she’ll be kept in the hospital over there.” She pointed to the north across the roofs of the ancient colleges. “But Neal won’t be over there. He’ll be in the internment camp for new arrivals. That’s to the east beyond the High Street. That’s where the other truck was going. All those non-infected people will be held prisoner until they have been processed.”

  ‘Processed’ was a clinical euphemism for being injected with the necrovitalis virus and kept in a cage to see if you turn into a brain-eating freak.

  If Neal had already been processed, he was very likely dead. Or undead.

  “What’s the security like at the prison camp?”

  “I won’t know until I go a recon,” she said. “But it’s always been tight. They don’t want civilians escaping – or do-gooders trying to save them. It will probably be worse than the LZ.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I agreed to come on this crazy mission with you. I should have let you do it on your own. It’s impossible!”

  “I don’t understand. Why did you come if you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  “I was hoping -” She turned away. “Forget it!”

  “Hoping what?”

  “That I’d save my sister, too.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Yeah, well, I do. I have a sister.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Because normal people have conve
rsations about stuff like that.”

  “Not on rooftops in enemy territory, they don’t.” Staying low, Maggie wormed herself towards me. “We’d better move before a sniper spots us. Let’s get inside.”

  Back in the library, I asked her again about her sister. I wanted to know more because it could mess up my mission if Maggie had her own agenda to rescue her sister.

  “What’s your sister’s name?”

  “Vicki.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s nineteen.”

  “How long is it since you saw her?”

  “Five months. I had to leave her behind when I escaped the Pure Bloods. I hated doing that – but they had her completely brainwashed. She’s a true believer. I wanted to take her with me – but I couldn’t risk it. She would have thought I was a traitor.” Maggie glared into the distance like she had seen an interesting book among the dusty stacks. “I hate myself for letting her down. I should have tried to get her away from them, no matter the risk. I have a chance to fix things – so if get the opportunity to rescue her, I’m bringing her home with me. You got a problem with that, Ben?”

  “No – but I wish you’d told me earlier. How do you intend to make contact with her?”

  “I’m not. Like I said, she’s brainwashed. I’m going to abduct her before we execute our plan.”

  “You mean that plan we haven’t formulated yet?”

  “Yes, that plan.”

  “I love it when a plan doesn’t come together.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing if you didn’t watch the A-Team as a kid.”

  “I didn’t. I’m too young.”

  “Rub it in how old I am,” I said. “Look, we have to sort out a plan, but I can’t hang around right now. I need to get looking for Angela. Will I have a problem getting into the hospital?”