There was no one alive that George particularly cared about, other than Sally, so he didn’t understand why she would want to go back to Heathrow and find Claire, Lex and Paige. They were perfectly safe where they were. Protected by the army, he knew they would come to no harm. Even if they did, so what? She could find new friends. It’s not as if any of the girls wanted a career in any field that might be helpful to Sally in the future. So he had not listened when she’d begged for his help. Her tears and pleas had fallen on deaf ears.
Sandwich in hand, he gently knocked on Sally’s bedroom door.
“Sally, I’ve made you a sandwich,” he said proudly. It wasn’t often that he prepared food. He waited patiently, expecting her to make a joke about how she was surprised that he had known where to find the bread, but there was no response.
He knocked again, harder this time.
“Sally,” he repeated firmly, “there is no point being stroppy. It won’t change anything.”
The only response he received was silence.
“Right, that’s it, young lady,” he said as he pushed open the door, seeing that she was still asleep, hidden by her duvet.
He walked over to the bed and shook her. His hand didn’t meet the resistance he had expected, causing him to lose balance, and the sandwich to slide off the plate. He pulled the covers back, and his heart skipped a beat as the pile of cushions, that had evidently been used to fool him, collapsed
He immediately retrieved the car keys from their hiding place in his underwear drawer and went out to look for her. Having no idea how long she had been gone, but knowing it would have been at least five hours, he made the decision to drive to the village, then for a few miles in the direction of Heathrow.
She’d be on foot, so she couldn’t have got that far.
On Tuesday when he had been forced to kill the cleaning lady, he’d phoned the police. It was self-defence. Besides, he had a contact at Scotland Yard that owed him a favour. He wasn’t worried about the implications. It didn’t seem to matter anyway. The emergency services were engaged. Wanting to rid the house of the body, he had wrapped her body up in an old bed sheet and put her in the car. He had intended to drive to a hospital so she could be disposed of in the proper way. He hadn’t expected to see any more of those things, they lived in a quiet location, nothing happened here. Which is one of the reasons that he had made the little village his home. The closest hospital was in Whitney, and he had to drive through the village to get there.
On his way to the village, he was just passing the local school when a child ran out in front of his car. He had slammed the brakes on, stopping in time to avoid hitting the child. The child froze. Tears streaming down her little face, as she stared at George with a look of terror on her face. Shaken himself, George didn’t see where the woman came from, but did see as she lunged at the child. He heard the screams as she was pulled to the ground; witnessed the blood as it pumped out of her neck, soaking her white blonde hair. He stared on as the little body went limp.
He watched the frenzied attack in horror, his hands planted on the steering wheel, his feet still pushing down the clutch and the brake. The attack lasted less than a minute, although it had seemed to play out in slow motion for George. When the child fell silent and stopped moving, the woman slowly got to her feet and stepped towards his car.
In fright, his feet slipped off the pedals, and the car lurched forward bumping the woman, who stumbled, fell backwards and was hidden from view.
As George turned the key in the ignition to restart the stalled vehicle, a bloodied hand slapped the bonnet. The woman pulled herself up, trying to crawl over the bonnet to get to him. She was soon joined by the small child, now with a gaping hole in her neck. Two pairs of inky black eyes stared up at him. He lifted his foot from the clutch and slammed on the accelerator. The car jolted forward, but again it stalled. The momentum had been enough to throw the two things off the car.
He quickly turned the key in the ignition again, put the car in reverse and this time lifted his foot slowly off the clutch while increasing the pressure on the accelerator. The car slowly began to move backwards.
When he was far enough away, he put the car into first gear and slammed his foot down. He drove straight at the two figures, who were back on their feet. On impact, the woman was thrown to the side of the road, her head cracking on the kerb. The child went under the car, and he felt the left tyres breaking its body as it rolled over it.
He carried on, and when he was a safe distance away, he performed a well-executed three-point turn, then drove back in the direction he had come from. The woman had once again got to her feet, so he steered in her direction. This time he hit her head on, and she, too, was crushed by the weight of the car. George did not look back but drove back to his house, shaking and pale.
As he was pulling into his driveway, he remembered the body in the back of his car. Cursing, he reversed back out onto the country road and stopped.
A small stream ran through a ditch on the right-hand side of the road. George dragged the body from the car and rolled it into the ditch. He watched as the stream quickly turned a light pink colour, as the water washed the blood from the corpse. He surreptitiously looked around. When he was confident no one had witnessed his shameful actions, he got back in his car and drove up the long driveway home.
Entering the house, Sally was anxiously waiting for him. He didn’t say a word as he walked past her to his office and locked the door. He didn’t come out of the office until later that night and barely spoke until the next day, when Sally had announced her intention to go back to Heathrow.
He hadn’t intended to leave the house until the army had got things back under control. He had already witnessed, and been party to, too much horror.
He didn’t want to see any more.
It was with a sense of trepidation that he drove out of his driveway, intentionally avoiding looking at the side of the road, where a body lay rotting in the stream.
He entered the village and was shocked by what he saw. Hundreds of infected wandered aimlessly in the streets. At the sound of his car, they turned in unison towards him. He quickly scanned the crowd and was relieved when he didn’t see Sally, but he could also not see a way through. His car would knock some down, but if it stalled or if a body got trapped in the wheels, he would be swarmed. He used an empty driveway to turn around and sped back home, leaving the infected behind him.
When he had returned home, he considered his options. Sally wasn’t answering his calls. He had no contacts at Heathrow.
The emergency services constantly had a busy tone.
So, as George did when he had a problem he couldn’t fix, he chose to delegate the task. Chloe would know what to do.
Now it was over twenty-four hours since Sally had gone. He had tried to phone her, but she didn’t answer. All he knew was that Chloe was going to get her. He had no idea if Sally was alive or dead. If Chloe had reached her at all. He felt no guilt at sending Chloe directly to Heathrow. If she wasn’t at Heathrow, he was confident that Chloe would drive back to his house, and hopefully, would find Sally on the way.
He had no concern or consideration for Chloe’s well-being, of the danger she might face helping him. To him, she was a resource, someone to use as he needed. Her thoughts and feelings were irrelevant, and as long as she did her job, she would get paid well. That was enough.
Nineteen
As someone who has read more than my fair share of zompoc, I have, of course, considered what I would do in a zombie apocalypse. How I would react in situations, how I would learn to thrive more than just survive. In all my musings, I never once created a scenario where I would be trapped in a bloody airport with four teenagers looking up at me, like I’m their protector, as though I alone can keep them safe.
The truth is, I’m still a bit pissed off with Sally. To find her laughing about causing a severe lifelong disability to another human being is untenable. I’m pissed off with Sam too, but m
ore just by his mere presence.
While secretly I’m a little impressed with his knowledge of guns and his shadier skills, which might come in useful, I can’t believe that the three young women have become friendly with him.
Not after the way he treated Sally.
For now though, there are more important things to worry about, like how we are going to get out of here alive.
When Sam looked out of the door and whispered to us about being ready, I crept quietly behind him and now I’m standing on tiptoe to see over his head. There are loads of those things.
“Close the door … quietly,” I whisper.
Sam does as instructed, and very slowly closes the door. When it’s shut, I signal to them all to follow me, and I head further into the lounge so I can talk freely.
“I don’t know if they can see with those black eyes, but I do know that they can hear,” I say to the four scared faces looking back at me.
I’m trying to look calm and confident, but I’m shitting myself. “Sally, did you learn anything about them on your way here?”
Sally pauses for a second, thinking. “Not really,” she eventually replies, “same as you, they are attracted to noise, but I don’t know if they saw me or just heard me when they came up to me.”
I nod, “So we have two choices, one, we can hope they can’t see and try to sneak out. Or, two, we can assume they can see, and try to distract them somehow.”
They all look at me, expecting me to decide. Silence fills the air around us, as I wrack my brains for something that could be used as a distraction if we go with option two.
“I think it’s best to assume that they can see. That way, if they can’t, then it’s a bonus,” Sally says, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” Claire nods enthusiastically, “hope for the best, plan for the worst.”
“But,” Lex interjects, “if we distract them somehow, then it will alert them to our presence. So even if they can’t see, they will know we are there. So, we don’t get any benefit from assuming that they can’t see. But if we assume they can’t see and try to sneak past them, then find out they can see, then we’re in trouble.” The words come out in a torrent, her mouth unable to keep up with the speed of her logical mind.
“Er, what?” Sam blurts out.
“Maybe slow down a bit, Lex,” I say. I didn’t understand her either and by the looks on Claire and Sally’s faces, neither did they.
Lex takes a deep breath, “Option one,” she holds up one finger, “we try to sneak past them. If they can’t see, that's great. If they can, we will get attacked. Option two,” she holds up a second finger, “we create a diversion; we also get attacked.”
“Why?” Sam asks.
“Because, they will know someone is around to have created the diversion.”
“I don’t think they are that clever,” says Sally.
“No,” Lex explains patiently, “at the moment, they are just wandering around with no purpose. Yes?” She looks at Sam, who nods. “As soon as they hear a noise, we can assume that they will head towards that. Yes?” This time she looks at me.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“So,” she continues, “unless we can create a diversion that keeps their attention long enough for us to get out, we can assume we will be dealing with a bunch of alert zombies. That will more than likely pick up on any noise we make.”
“Assassins Creed,” Sam blurts outs excitedly.
“What?” I ask him.
“Well in Assassins Creed … If you alert a guard or someone of your presence when you are on a stealthy bit of the game, then they start actively looking for you. So being stealthy doesn’t help so much anymore.”
“Exactly,” says Lex, relieved that she is getting her point across.
“Okay …” I say slowly. “So how does this help us?”
“Well, we’re fucked either way, aren’t we?” Sam states.
The room falls silent again. There is no way out of this that doesn’t involve us getting attacked. From the expressions on their faces, I can see that the others know this. I say brightly, “So, we create a diversion to buy some time, run like hell, then if we get attacked, we defend ourselves as well as we can with these.” I shake the table leg in the air with enthusiasm.
I keep the smile on my face, trying to look sincere and not terrified. They seem to relax; my act must be working.
“Right then,” I add, maintaining my cheerful demeanour, “best that we go out in single file. I’ll take the lead, Sam you bring up the rear. Girls, you can be between us.”
“What? Why the fuck do I need to go at the back? Why don’t you go at the back and I’ll go at the front,” Sam asks with an edge of anger to his tone.
“Sam, you have the bloody shotgun. If they’re coming up behind us, you can shoot them.”
“What if they’re coming towards us?” he asks.
Hmm, he has a good point there, “Then I’ll shout for you to run to the front,” I say, making it up on the spot. “Point is, Sam, we are heading to my car. I know what it looks like and where it’s parked.”
“Ah okay, fair one,” he says, all trace of anger gone.
Okay, so my motives for placing Sam at the back aren’t totally fair. I don’t know him. I don’t like him. I obviously don’t want him to die, but, well, he’s less important to me than the three girls are. I can feel my face going red as I process this thought, and quickly turn away.
“What can we use as a diversion?” I ask.
“How about we all take a wine bottle and throw it one by one over the balcony,” Lex suggests. “That way hopefully they’ll all go downstairs.”
That's not a bad idea. We’re on the top floor of departures near security. This floor is a mezzanine, and the balcony overlooks the rest of the departure lounge. I don’t think those things are intelligent enough to go for the stairs, but they might all head to the balcony, which at least will keep them distracted in their attempts to try and get down to the lower floors.
“Good idea, Lex,” I say, and head over to the wine cabinet. I hand out four bottles of wine and grab one for myself.
What a waste of good wine.
“Right, let’s go then,” I add cheerfully.
I lead the way back to the door and pull the door open quietly. I turn to the others and put a finger to my lips to make sure they remember to stay silent. The things are still wandering around. The nearest one is about thirty feet away. To be able to throw the bottles over the balcony, we need to get out of the corridor that leads up to the lounge. I turn back and motion for Sally to follow me.
She steps out quietly, and I start to make my way down the corridor. A few feet from the end I press my back up against the wall. No idea why. It doesn’t offer any cover from the closest infected. Sally follows my lead, as does Lex, Claire and then Sam. I turn towards them and mouth, “Ready?” and they nod silently at me.
I raise my arm and throw the bottle as hard as I can.
Shit. I throw like a girl.
The bottle smashes against the glass screen of the balcony. As one, the things - okay, I’ll say it, Zombies - turn their heads towards the noise and start making their way towards the smashed bottle.
“Go,” I hiss at Sally.
She takes her bottle and throws it. Shit. She also throws like a girl. Her bottle smashes against the floor a metre or so away from mine. The shuffling zombies seem to become more excitable.
“Lex,” I whisper.
Lex’s throw was awesome. It sailed clear of the balcony and seconds later the sound of the bottle shattering could be heard from below. Unprompted, Claire lobs her bottle, and she too clears the balcony. The zombies are getting nearer the two smashed bottles upstairs.
I chance a peek out of the corridor to the exit. I can only see a few now between us and the exit back to the check in desks.
Fuck. What if there are more?
The check-in is hidden from view. There could be shitloads out there. I run through op
tions in my mind. There are none. We’ll just have to hope for the best.
Sam steps forward and tosses his bottle. It also sails over the balcony and smashes below. Zombies are now pushing against the glass screen. There must be at least fifty of them. The concentrated noise of their groans and moans is almost too much to bear. Another sound joins the cacophony. A creaking sound. The glass isn’t strong enough to hold that many people pressing against it. It's cracking. Instead of running for the exit, I hold my position and watch in fascination as the glass shatters, and some of the zombies plunge to the floor below.
“Sam, Claire, Lex, run back and get more bottles,” I whisper excitedly. “Sally, hold the door for them. I’ll keep look out.”
Within thirty seconds, they were back, two bottles in each, the table legs and shotgun discarded for the time being.
“Right, throw them over the edge,” I instruct. "One at a time, but closer together than we just did.”
They nod and begin throwing bottles. With each smash, the zombies continue to surge forwards towards the noise. They are dropping like lemmings. I stifle a laugh. Stupid things.
When the six bottles have been thrown, there are only a couple of zombies left in view. I take a deep breath.
“Run,” I whisper urgently and start sprinting for the exit. I reach it quickly and pause before going out, looking into the check-in area. I can see four zombies in the threateningly close vicinity. I turn back and see Sally and Lex have joined me, Claire and Sam are running and will be here in seconds.
I get the answer to whether they can see through those evil eyes, as Sam’s being chased by two of the things, who must have spotted us.
He’s running much faster than they are, so they’re not an immediate threat.
I start to run again but this time at a slower pace. I head towards the closest zombie who has its back to me. It begins to turn as I get near, but I don’t give it a chance to react, as I smack it over the head with the table leg. It falls to the floor, and I hit it a few times until it stops moving, its head smashed to a bloody pulp. I swallow the bile that is rising in my throat and head to the next one. It’s already coming towards me, so this one gets a whack to its face. Its nose explodes, but it doesn’t go down. I hit it again, but it stands firms. Holding the table leg in two hands, I jab it forwards and knock the thing off its feet. When it is down, I hit it a few times to make sure it stays there.
Safe Zone (Book 1): The Greater Good Page 15