Journal of the Living

by John Moralee

  “I know. Let’s go.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  Twenty zombies were crawling out as we fled the scene. More zombies, more chaos. The Pure Bloods were going to be busy that night. Hopefully too busy to notice two men sneaking their way to the hospital in another sector.

  Things were going post-post-apocalyptic in a matter of minutes as the escaped zombies spread out and broke into buildings in search of food. Oxford’s streets were packed with enemy soldiers fighting the dead.

  “Incursion in Sector 4!”

  “Zombies in Sector 2!”

  “Aaaarhhhuhhh!”

  Neal was jogging alongside me down a dark street. “Boy, you’ve really set a cat among the pigeons. Sounds like the zombies are eating a load of Pure Bloods. I hope we don’t end up a zombie desserts.”

  We reached the back of the hospital, where I’d parked a lorry. Tamsin was supposed to bring everyone to it after drugging the staff on E4, but nobody was inside. Some troops appeared, running down the street in the direction of the zombie pit. They saw us so we just remained at the lorry, looking like we were doing something to fix a tyre. The men ignored us. They had serious fire-power – RPGs and assault rifles – which would make short work of the dead. It looked like they would soon have the situation under control. And then they would have the time to work out it was no accident that had released the zombies. As soon as they knew the living had been sabotaging their base, our advantage would be lost.

  “Tamsin’s late. I’m going in. Keep the lorry ready.”

  “Ben, I’m old – but I’m not useless. I’ll do more good following you.”

  I’d wanted to keep him out of harm’s way – but he was right. I’d need help moving the sick. “Okay. We’re going through the back to get to Department E4. It’s a pretty long way down some long corridors and staircases. You up for that?”

  “Lead the way.”

  As we entered the hospital, a loud battle raged outside that slowly diminished in volume as we went deeper and deeper into the building. Neal was puffing and wheezing when we reached the final floor.

  “You all right?”

  “Didn’t … get much … exercise in that cage. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  He didn’t look fine. “Sure?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got to save Angela. Concentrate on that, not me.”

  We both wanted to see Angela again. And get her out of there.

  I peered down the corridor. It was empty. A good sign. It was quiet. Far away, assault rifles fired short bursts, sounding like the crackle-pops of bubble-wrap. I stepped into the corridor. “Neal, stay and cover me. Watch the lift and stairs, too.”

  “How many eyes do you think I have?” he joked. Then he went serious. “You can count on it, Neal. I’ve got your back. Hurry up. We don’t have all night.”

  I sprinted down the corridor and stopped at the door of E4. It was locked. I had two options. Break it down or press the buzzer for someone to unlock it from the other side. Tamsin should have drugged the Pure Blood guards and medical staff – but what if she had failed? What if the guard was still there? Oh – what the hell! No time to worry. I pressed the buzzer and got my gun ready. If a guard opened the door, I’d shoot him in the head. Someone opened the door. It was a man – but it wasn’t the guard. He was one of the patients I’d seen earlier.

  “Don’t shoot. I’m not one of them. Tamsin! He’s here!”

  I signalled to Neal that it was safe – then I stepped into the ward, where I saw over a dozen patients in the corridor and more emerging – with help – from the rooms. Tamsin was pushing a young girl in a wheelchair.

  “Neal! I’m so sorry we’re not ready. I drugged the guards – but it took longer than I expected to make them pass out.”

  There was a guard slumped behind a desk, drooling on a magazine. And another one on the floor in a pool of spilled coffee. There was also a nurse tied up with a bruised eye. She glared at me. A Pure Blood loyalist. I glared back.

  “The lorry’s outside,” I told Tamsin. “We’ve got to go now.”

  “Help us get them out of their rooms, please.”

  Some of the patients were able to walk on their own – but others were in wheelchairs or lying on trolleys needing assistance. Tamsin had persuaded a couple of nurses opposed to the Pure Blood regime to help out – but the immobile outnumbered the mobile. We would have to move them in stages along the corridor and then to the exit. I estimated it would take twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour. A very long time in a hostile zone.

  Angela appeared from her room, shuffling forward, grimacing with every step. It felt amazing to see her. We hugged. She grinned. “Hey, you. Sounds like you started a war out there. You didn’t release more zombies, did you?”

  “Just a few … hundred. These maniacs keep them in a trench like guard dogs. Seemed a waste not to use them against them. The zombies are on our side – sort of. They’re biting Pure Bloods right now, giving them something else to fight. The zombies are hopefully taking chunks out of them.”

  “Good. I heard they taste like chicken.”

  She looked pale and unsteady.

  I was concerned. “You well enough to walk yourself out of here?”

  “My legs feel like jelly. I think I’ll use a wheelchair – but I can move it myself. Can you see a spare?”

  I found her a wheelchair in a supply room. She slumped into it as Neal entered the ward. Angela broke into a wide grin. “Neal! I’m so glad to see you again.”

  “Great to see you looking better,” Neal said. It looked like there were tears in his eyes. “I’ll push you down the corridor. We all have to get moving. No time for a proper reunion.”

  Everyone helped each other leave the ward and along the corridor past the lift. Nearly everybody was in the corridor when the lift started moving upwards. I had the bad feeling it would be filled with soldiers. “Neal! Someone is coming up!”

  Neal and I aimed our guns at the doors. Two soldiers and a doctor were inside. We had them caught by surprise – but they stupidly went for their weapons. It gave me no choice. I shot one in the head and Neal killed the other one with two in the heart. The doctor cowered, raising his hands. I pointed my gun at him while Neal stripped the dead men of their weapons and equipment. He gave one gun to Angela and another to Tamsin.

  Tamsin shook her head and gave it to someone else. “No thanks. I’m a nurse. I don’t kill.”

  “You might have to,” Neal said, visibly annoyed that she had given away his present. “What the hell. You’re learn or you’ll die.”

  I waved to the frightened doctor to make him come out of the lift. Neal blocked the door with the dead bodies so the lift could not close. I feared someone would have heard the shot and investigate. We had to hurry.

  The patient with the gun aimed it at the doctor. “Should we shoot him, too?”

  “Don’t!” the doctor said. “They forced me into working for them.”

  “He’s a liar,” a woman said. “His name is Frost. He joked with the guards. He knew they intended to inject us with the zombie virus. He’s like a Nazi. We should execute him.”

  “You,” I said to the doctor. “Help us or die. No tricks. No second chances. You do what I say and I promise not to kill you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes. Absolutely. Who are you people, anyway?”

  “We’re the good guys,” I said. “You’re on the wrong side, Doc.”

  “You killed those men,” Dr Frost said. “You’re killers.”

  “Am I going to have a problem you?”

  He stared at my gun and shook his head so hard his brown hair flopped over his eyes. “No. I’m not a soldier. I’ll do what you want.”

  I whispered in Neal’s ear. “Keep an eye on him.”

  “Will do. I’ll shoot him if he tries anything.”

  As a precaution, Tamsin tied the doctor’s hands together with bandages. Frost could still push a trolley – but it
would stop him misbehaving. I wasn’t in the mood for trusting another man, not after Billy’s betrayal and the troubled that caused.

  The doctor pushed a girl down the corridor, then helped another patient in a wheelchair. The group moved bit by bit.

  We were soon all in another corridor in the deserted area that looked like a war-zone. Behind me, I heard shouts from where we’d been. My heart thumped like I’d been punched in the chest. I knew someone had discovered the missing patients and the soldiers’ bodies. Thirty seconds later, I heard voices and running. I’d taken the precaution of blocking the door behind us. Someone banged on it and curse. A gunshot echoed in the gloom. The door flew open. Torches shone into the darkness. The stragglers in my group were visible to whoever was coming.

  “They’re escaping,” said the master of the obvious down the corridor. “Stop there!”

  Nobody listened.

  “Shoot them!” someone ordered. It sounded like a woman. Was it the nurse we’d tied up?

  I wish I’d knocked her out.

  There were soldiers taking up positions at the far end. They had assault rifles.

  I took up a shooting position behind a broken vending machine while Tamsin continued the exodus with Neal leading the way.

  The torch light was obscuring my view of the enemy – but I saw at least four beams shining down the dark corridor as they moved after us from doorway to doorway. I fired at the light sources several bursts of bullets set on semi-auto. My bullets struck at least one enemy, who went down yelling. They slammed into the walls and floor and ricocheted into the ceiling smashing lights and tiles, raining down plaster and cables. The soldiers scattered and dived into the rooms on their left or right. They returned fire from the doorways. Bullets hit the vending machine and burst cans inside it, spraying fizzy liquid like mini-geysers. My face was struck by flying metal. They were sneaking closer. I shot back a couple of times just to keep them at bay. The last of the my group of stragglers got around the next corner while I kept shooting. I’d run out of ammo in no time. (I’d already reloaded twice in the gaps between shooting and hiding.) It was a miracle I was keeping the enemy back at all because they were blasting the hell out of the vending machine. I poked my gun around and fired blindly. That made some scream. For a second or two the shooting stopped as they survivors dodged my bullets. Not even the Pure Bloods wanted a piece of lead in their bodies. The vending machine protecting me was starting to look like Swiss cheese. It was no longer in a good position – so I raced to the next corner. I was just in time. One soldier had tossed a grenade that bounced and rolled to five feet from my previous position. When it went off, the vending machine turned into scrap metal. One Tango can hit the wall near me so hard it left a fist-sized dent. I shot back on the run. I hit a man in the arm. More enemies – new arrivals - began spraying bullets and another grenade landed at my feet. I kicked it back and made a mad dash. The grenade exploded and I felt a hot ripple in the air like a wall hitting me. It tossed me several feet and I landed on my back. Pain shot up my spine. Luckily, the grenade’s detonation brought down a whole section of the roof. Dust and bricks and burning metal blocked the corridor – preventing the enemy’s pursuit. A man in a much worse state than me helped me to my feet. Thanking him, I hurried on and caught up with the others, who had reached a stairway leading down to the exit. Neal was checking the street was clear.

  “I don’t see anyone out there,” he said. “I’ll bring the lorry nearer.”

  He dashed out while everyone gathered at the exit.

  Tamsin checked on the weakest with the help of the doctor.

  Angela said something to me. I didn’t hear it. “What?”

  “You okay, Ben? Your left ear’s bleeding.”

  I touched it. My finger came away wet and red. The explosion must have injured me. Burst my ear drum. I hadn’t felt it in all of the chaos. I couldn’t hear out of it – but my other ear seemed fine, though I was hearing a high whine like a train whistle. “I’m okay. Can you hear the lorry?”

  “Yeah. It’s coming.”

  I looked out and saw Neal had parked the rear just outside. The patients would not have far to move. Neal opened the doors for them. There was enough room inside for everyone as long as they didn’t move around. The healthiest patients helped the sickest in the back first without anyone giving them instructions. Neal and I kept watch. For five minutes I expected the enemy to appear – but they didn’t. It was a long way around the hospital if you couldn’t take a short cut. I was pleased to see the doctor helping out, speeding up the process. Angela climbed into the back and helped the last few up.

  The doctor looked at me as the last person boarded.

  “You know I’m dead if I stay here,” he said. “They’ll think I’m a traitor and put me in the zombie pit. Please let me come. I can treat people on the way to wherever you’re going.”

  Neal had heard what he’d said and looked furious. “No. We can’t trust you. You turn innocent people into zombies. You’re a monster like the colonel in charge. You’re al’ ‘just obeying orders’ - but that’s not an excuse for injecting people with something that kills.”

  “I’ve never harmed anyone. I swear it. Before Day One, I was a neurosurgeon, saving lives and doing good. I swear on my life I will help these people if you let me come.”

  “Neal,” I said. “It’s your decision.”

  “Get in,” Neal growled. “Before I change my mind.”

  “Thank you! You won’t regret! I promise!” The doctor hopped up into the lorry. I closed the doors behind him, taking one last look at Angela, who was already tending to someone sicker. She waved at me as the doors closed.

  Neal and I hurried into the driver’s cab. I took the wheel and started the engine. “We’d better move this thing before we get a parking ticket. I heard they give you a big penalty around here.”

  I drove away, catching sight of some soldiers in my mirrors just as I turned down the next street. Great. They were looking for us. They had not seen the lorry, though. I hoped they would think we were still in the hospital somewhere. I stopped two streets away. “Neal, I’ve got to blow up their helicopter if anyone is to get away. You’ll have to drive this out of the gates without me.”

  “That’s a suicide mission, Ben.”

  “It’s a suicide mission for us all if I don’t. You won’t get a mile away if they send the helicopter after you.”

  “It doesn’t have to be you, Ben. Let me do it.”

  “No. I didn’t rescue you to let you die. And don’t think you can sucker-punch me a second time. I’m doing it.”

  “Ben, I was injected with the zombie virus. I’m sicker than I told you. I can feel it inside me, turning me. I’m already dying. At least let me go out in style, saving you and Angela and all of the others. I want this. Let me blow the helicopter to kingdom come.”

  “There’s a chance you’re wrong, Neal. You don’t know for sure you will die. I can’t let you volunteer. It’s my job.”

  Neal lifted his shirt and showed me his bare chest. The skin was a pale blue with streaks of green and grey like a mouldy cheese. “This look like I’ve got a chance? It’s spreading. I’ll be a zombie by the morning. There’s nothing can stop it. But I can do something now. Something to save lives.”

  There was nothing I could do for him – except give him what he wanted. “I’m so sorry, Neal. I wish I had got here faster.”

  “You got here in time to save Angela. I was a dead man when I made the deal with them. I knew that. My fate was sealed then. If you let me blow up the helicopter, I won’t be wasting my final hours turning into a zombie. I’ll be helping you.”

  “Okay.” I told him where to find the petrol tankers as I drove on. “I’ll drop you off a few streets away.”

  There were soldiers on the streets, but they were too busy setting up barricades to care about a lorry passing them. Since we were dressed like them, anyone seeing us assumed we had also been given orders to take the lorry so
mewhere. In the heat of a battle nobody knew what was going on, as orders and counter-orders causes confusion, which was the perfect cover for escaping. I stopped again. Neal jumped out. There were no zombies or troops nearby. Neal slammed the door and stepped back. “Well, I won’t be seeing you again, Neal. So, I guess this is my final goodbye.”

  “Good luck,” I said.

  “Get everyone out of this zombie hell,” he said. “Go!”

  I put my foot down on the accelerator and got the lorry moving. Neal was gone when I looked in my mirror. I wished him luck again. He needed it.

  Turning a corner, I smashed into a naked male zombie eating a soldier’s face off. They crunched under the wheels, blood and brains spattering my windscreen. More zombies slammed into my vehicle as I flicked on the wipers and clear a window to see through. Looking through the blood smears, I saw a group of the dead chasing a soldier with a jammed weapon. The soldier was backed against the wall of a building, desperately trying to shoot. The zombies lumbered towards him. He had no where to escape. He saw me coming and shouted for me to help him. I could drive into the zombies and save him.

  But I didn’t.

  I drove around them, leaving the Pure Blood to fend for himself. His eyes widened in disbelief as I drove by. The zombies attacked. Even with only one good ear, I heard his high screams as they bit him and tore him apart, pulling his steaming entrails from his body, chewing and biting, eating him alive.

  I didn’t let the grisly sight distract me. I had a new problem. I wanted to get my lorry across Oxford avoiding more zombies and soldiers – but it proved impossible. A spiked barricade was ahead, blocking my way. I was on the side with five soldiers on it, with the spikes pointing the other way. Fifty or more zombies were pushing into the barricade, some getting impaled, some pushing other into the spikes. The impaled zombies thrashing and moaned. The zombies behind them tried climbing over the speared ones. Some succeeded and launched themselves at the soldiers. The soldiers didn’t panic, though. They were shooting the zombies in their heads. The soldiers were doing a good job of destroying them one by one.

  Until I came along and drove straight at the barricade.