The Afflicted: A Zombie Novel

by Watts, Russ

  “There.” George pointed to a small door almost hidden by a huge six-foot advertisement for bargain mortgages. Behind it was an unlit, green ‘exit’ sign.

  “Nice one, George,” said Joe, enthusiastically, greasy hands ruffling George’s dirty brown hair. “You all right, mate?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I feel better now. Where’s mum?” he said, looking round.

  “She’s safe, Georgie. She just had to do something but we’ll get her soon, don’t worry,” answered Joe. He took his hand and they all went to the fire exit. As they approached it, they heard another bang. Lily screamed as the coffee shop door gave way. Evan turned back to see a hundred zombies pour through it into the shopping centre. He pushed the exit door and said a small prayer when it opened easily.

  They stepped out into an alley. Left or right, it made no difference. It was dark now and Evan could not see much. A tall graffiti-covered fence obscured his view of anything useful. He was about to tell everyone to go left, for no reason other than he had to say something, when a figure appeared at the other end of the alley.

  “Oi, over here. Follow me, quick.” The dark figure shouted brazenly in the open and waved them toward him.

  “Let’s go,” said Evan, after barely a moment’s pause.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” said Joe, standing beside Evan.

  “No. But it’s got to be safer than staying here. We can’t keep running around in the dark. Look at Lily, she can’t run anywhere.”

  Joe shrugged, resigned to the obvious fact that they had little choice but to trust a stranger. Evan took off, the two packs on his back now weighing more than ever, whilst the rest of them followed him, Amane helping Lily once again, and Joe gripping George’s hand for dear life. As they neared the end of the tiny alley, Evan saw a body at the stranger’s feet.

  “Don’t worry, it can’t hurt you now,” said a grinning mouth from beneath a black hood. The man held a large, bloodied knife in his hand. He turned and walked past the fence out of sight. Rounding the end of the alley, Evan was relieved to see the hooded man still there, waiting for them, wiping the knife on his trousers. He was standing by a wrought-iron gate that was inching open automatically. The man slipped through it quickly.

  “Come on then,” he said breezily. There was no fear in the man’s voice at all. Evan couldn’t tell much but the voice was certainly mature and deep. He hoped the man beneath the hood was only using his cover to hide from the zombies, and not using it as a disguise for more sinister purposes.

  They followed the mystery-man down a driveway, flanked on both sides by tall, withering trees. Evan saw black blobs at the bases. Looking closer in the dark, he could make out feathers and wings: dead birds or bats. It felt strange being out in the open like this. Evan couldn’t help but feeling he was still being watched, phantom eyes staring at him from the canopy above and tree trunks either side of him.

  The gate clanged shut behind them and Amane only just managed to squeeze herself and Lily through in time. Stones crunched underfoot, obscuring the menacing moans of the zombies now stranded behind the fence and gate, as they proceeded down the driveway to a small bungalow. It was also surrounded by a tall fence and a lone candle flickered in the doorway. The rest of the house was unlit, encased by the encroaching night and oppressive, whispering trees. There were no cars outside, but Evan noticed a garage door, closed, and wondered if the man had transport.

  The man unlocked the front door and threw back his hood. The candle cast a shaky light over him and Evan saw that their saviour was a lean man, tall and spindly, with a pockmarked bony face and a rugged, wild beard. Evan watched as old, skeletal fingers twisted the key and pushed open the front door. They were led down a corridor lined with unambitious paintings of lush landscapes and flowering fields. A bureau was decked out with a huge vase full of flowers, the sweet aroma filling the air. It felt homely and comfortable.

  Through another doorway, the man ushered them to sit down and rest. He told them he’d be back in a moment and slipped back into the hallway, leaving them alone. Joe sat George down on an armchair covered with an unnecessary amount of doylies. The room was small and cosy, the curtains drawn, and a large solitary candle lit up the room from a side table. Amane and Lily sunk into an old mushy sofa with relief. Evan dropped the backpacks in the middle of the room.

  “Seems pretty safe. Maybe we should try to crash here for the night?” he said. This stranger had taken them in and they were too exhausted to argue or discuss it. The world where dead people attacked the living was safely locked away outside of the house, outside of the grounds. It already seemed a long way off now. The old man came back in carrying a couple of torches that he handed to Evan and Joe.

  “Right, come on, follow me,” he said walking back to the doorway.

  “Oh hey, thanks, but look, can we maybe stay here for a bit?” asked Evan, cautiously. “We just need to rest for a while. Lily here is hurt. She can barely walk. We’re very grateful Mr...”

  Beady eyes blinked back at Evan. A moment’s silence passed, but to Evan it felt like a year, as the man’s eyes looked him up and down.

  “That’s not a good idea.” He took a step closer to Evan, who smelt alcohol on the man’s breath.

  “There are things that go bump in the night. It’s much safer next door with me and Thomas.” The man grimaced, exposing brown, crooked teeth and flicked a torch on, illuminating the hallway.

  “Evan, Lily’s dead on her feet. She’s knackered. She’s only a kid.” Amane stopped as they heard a series of muffled bangs. There was a pause and then it started again.

  “Ready now?” The old man licked his lips, casting furtive eyes about impatiently. Amane looked at Evan concerned. He held up a palm asking for her patience.

  “Lily, can you go a little further?” said Evan, kneeling down to talk to her. “Things will get better. We’ll take care of you, I promise.” She looked so fragile he wanted to pick her up and tell her everything would be okay, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

  Through sniffs, she muttered a yes and looked at Evan with tear-streaked eyes, mascara staining her cheeks. She grabbed her handbag and stood up unsteadily. Amane put an arm around her shoulder. George grabbed Joe’s hand and together they all followed warily after the old man.

  Their torches picked out furniture in the gloom: chairs and stacks of magazines, vivid floral tapestries and old black and white photos hanging crookedly on the walls.

  They were taken through a small, old-fashioned kitchen and the old man unlocked another door at the end of it. Single file, they went through it compliantly, down a narrow stairwell. The air was cooler down here and Evan thought he could smell something medicinal. It was like a hospital. The sickly air left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Their feet clattered loudly on the steps making them all uneasy. The knocking they’d heard before was louder now and joined by crashing and banging. They filed through a corridor, past a large metal door, glistening in the light of the torches. The erratic noises were coming from behind it, and as they passed it, Evan brushed his fingers against it. It was remarkably cool to the touch. The door was locked by large slide-bolts at the top and bottom. They carried on and turned a corner, the corridor becoming narrower: plain, stripped down wooden floors sweeping up to bare walls. The torchlight bounced off the whitewashed concrete casting their leader’s body into shadow, his hunched bony old body illuminated as a hideous shadow ahead of them. George felt calm now. He knew he’d freaked out earlier but something in his head had clicked. Lucy was gone. His father wouldn’t be coming back. He saw things more pragmatically now: logically.

  At the conclusion of the cold damp corridor, the old man opened another door into a cellar. He pulled a cord and instantly bathed it in an amber glow, a single bare bulb hanging in the centre of the room, dazzling them all. Evan saw a huge wine rack running the length of the wall. He estimated it must have been holding at least seventy bottles. The old man was heading up the stai
rs and the door at the top opened out into yet another dim hallway. Looking around, Evan was wondering when this little jaunt was going to end. The ceilings were higher and the décor was different: simpler. His torch picked out a staircase in the dark and he knew they were in another house now. Through a large double-door, they entered a room that finally felt truly welcoming.

  There was a roaring fire and another man drawing heavy velvety curtains together. Over the fireplace hung a magnificent painting of the last supper, sat in an ornate gold frame. Bookcases adorned the walls, stuffed with thick books, papers and manuscripts. A large round table was laid out with food and drink: chicken, dishes of vegetables, cakes, biscuits, beer, and wine. The mystery-man sat down in a cushioned armchair and picked up a half-empty glass of whisky, carrying on where he had left off.

  “Come in, come in, please, sit down. My poor dears.” The second man approached them. He had close-cropped white hair and in contrast to his friend, had a round face to match his round belly. He wore a blue-collared shirt and high above his expansive waist, brown trousers held up by braces. He helped Amane set Lily down onto a chair by the table.

  “Please, feel free! Help yourselves,” he said eagerly. “I’m Father Thomas.”

  “Evan,” he said, holding out his hand. The Father shook it vigorously. Evan pointed out the others. “This is Joe, George, Amane, and Lily.”

  “Thrilled to meet you all, you are most welcome in my house. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances but we must face each day as the Lord provides. Eat and drink my friends. Honestly, there is far too much for me and Nathaniel here.”

  The mystery-man, Nathaniel, raised his glass, acknowledging them, and swirled the whisky in its glass, ice-cubes chinking against the crystal glass, before drawing down a large gulp. As the group offered their thanks and eagerly began on the feast spread out before them, Evan walked to the fireplace and warmed himself. Father Thomas joined him.

  “It’s Evan, right? We saw the crash, young man. It was lucky we did or you would have been in terrible trouble. We’re the only residents left around here. Everyone else has left or, well, you know.” He spoke in a hushed, sombre voice.

  “Uh-huh,’ said Evan. “How did you manage to see the crash from here though?” Something seemed a little bit odd about these two men though he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Oh, from upstairs. I’ll show you. Right now, you must get something to eat. Replenish your energy my dear boy. I’ll go fetch a bandage for the young lady’s leg.” With that, he strode out of the room and Evan went back to the table. Joe’s face was flushed already.

  “Second or third, Joe?” said Evan smiling, watching him take large mouthfuls from a glass of red wine.

  “Yep.” Joe winked and poured himself another. Evan sat down beside Amane.

  “What do you think?” he asked her, taking a handful of peanuts.

  “I think we’re lucky they found us. I know this is an odd situation, but they seem harmless. We’ve got a roof over our heads. Food and drink. We should be happy right now.” Amane shrugged and filled two glasses of wine.

  “Lily, you can have one glass, no more, okay?”

  “Fine by me. Mum never let me have any. I mean, I’m fifteen, does she think I’ve never had a drink!”

  Evan and Amane smiled at each other picking at the food.

  Nathaniel had been sitting quietly in the chair, observing everything, saying nothing. He filled his glass and stood, watching them.

  “Do you believe?” he asked, to no one in particular.

  “What’s that, mate?” said Joe through a mouthful of potato.

  “In Him. The Lord. Blessed are thee that follow in His footsteps.”

  “Not me. I believe in what’s in front of me. This Shiraz for starters.” Joe took a big gulp. “I believe I’ll never get to the MCG again. And I believe the world is royally screwed. Thus endeth the sermon. Cheers.” He chinked his glass against the half-empty bottle on the table, oblivious to the atmosphere developing around him.

  Nathaniel said nothing. He just stood there staring at them. Amane and Evan cast sideways glances at each other. Before they could speak, Father Thomas came back in with some bandages. He bent down at Lily’s feet and began examining her leg.

  “Lily was it? Here, let me look at you,” he said kindly. Father Thomas studied Lily, and when he rested his hand on her knee, Amane could see Lily growing uncomfortable.

  “Thanks, Father,” said Amane taking them from him. “Come on, Lily, let’s get you sorted.”

  Nathaniel wandered out into the corridor taking the bottle of whisky with him, muttering through his beard.

  “I must say you are lucky we found you,” said the Father, standing back up again. “Outside of these four walls is a world that none of us are used to. ‘The earth shall cast out the dead.’” He paused, hoping his words would be taken with the seriousness he wanted them to be.

  “It’s hard to believe, but there’s no denying what you can see with your own eyes. The prophets foretold all of this, you know? If I may be so bold, Evan, have you all prepared? With the approaching Armageddon, all our houses must be in order.” The Father remained standing over them whilst Amane tended to Lily’s swelling ankle. He was getting a little too preachy for Evan’s liking.

  “I don’t think we are really thinking much further than the next day to be honest with you. It’s hard enough finding water to drink, and food to eat, let alone contemplating the Apocalypse, or whatever this is.” Evan carried on munching on some chips hoping the Father would take the hint to drop the conversation.

  “Zombies. That’s all they are,” said Joe, looking thoughtfully into his glass of wine. “No more, no less. Just dead bodies that have forgotten they’re dead. I haven’t seen the four horse-men riding around, and I certainly haven’t seen God. Just stinking dead bodies everywhere.”

  “I think the dead are walking because they have no place else to go,” said Amane. “Think how many people have died since mankind has been around. For every one that went to Heaven, how many have gone to Hell? What if the gates to Hell were locked? What if they all got kicked out? It’s like a dam that’s full and the water has to go somewhere. Hell is overflowing if you ask me. Maybe the souls of the damned have to go somewhere, so they’re back here, inhabiting dead bodies.”

  She looked at George who, if he was listening to their conversation, was paying no heed. He was slurping orange juice down, pretending not to listen, soaking in every word.

  “But then, maybe my wine glass is overflowing and I’m talking crap.” Amane raised a fake smile; feeling very tired all of a sudden.

  “My dear, you may have something there,” interjected the Father. “If I may quote once more: ‘And death and Hell delivered up the dead who were in them; and they were judged by every man.’

  “Man has for too long ignored the signs: murder, deviant sexual practises, greed, and sloth. Common people die in abject poverty while the businessmen of this world grow rich from unrestrained lust. It is all there plain as day! The earth is ripe for harvest my friends. You can’t argue with what you see, with what you’ve seen with your own eyes out there.”

  “Okay, Father.” Evan stood up, reluctant to let this go on any longer. “Look, thank you for taking us in, but can we perhaps talk about this some other time? George is a bit young for all this and I think we are all in desperate need of some rest right now.”

  “Evan, I wonder if I might take you on a short tour of the house?” The Father belched loudly.

  “Yeah, sure. Would be good to know where we are: doors, exits, all that. Joe, can you keep an eye on George?”

  Joe looked over at George who was now gorging himself on chocolate. “No problem, mate. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Oh and everyone, it goes without saying that we should be quiet at all times,” said the Father like a teacher speaking to his pupils. “In particular, please do not go anywhere near the front door. You are fine in h
ere, or upstairs. If you stray beyond that, then I’m afraid I cannot vouch for your safety.”

  Evan left the warm lounge, following behind the Father who whipped a small flashlight out of his pocket. The hallway was quiet, dark, and cold.

  “You must be curious, I suppose, about the tunnel?” said the Father, eager to talk. “I’m afraid it’s the only way in or out now. Next door is the mortuary and the old chap who used to live here built the tunnel back in the sixties. Probably thought there was going to be World War Three or something.” He gave a little laugh and his big belly wobbled unflatteringly.

  “Well, Nathaniel runs it now. Anyway, you must keep quiet. I’ll show you why it’s so handy now.” He led Evan through a door, into a small vestibule. He flicked the torchlight off and motioned for Evan to look through the spyhole in the huge, wooden front door.

  Evan looked and gasped. The garden was completely full of zombies, staggering around like drunks. From the front door back to the gate, they filled the garden. The zombies were stuck between the house and the tall fencing ringing it, squashed like canned sardines. Their heads bobbed up and down like seals peering over the ocean waves. Evan broke out in a cold sweat. He felt trapped. Charlie’s voice rang through his head again.

  “I’m scared, I’m scared...”

  Father Thomas pulled Evan away and back through the doorway, flicking the torch back on.

  “What the hell is that?” said Evan when they were safely out of earshot.

  “Sadly, those poor souls have been there for a couple of days,” said the Father. “They get agitated when the sun comes up. I think they can hear Nathaniel when he goes out, but they can’t get past the fences. They’re stuck in there like sheep in a pen. I wonder if they’ve developed into some kind of herd or if they’re still as individual and selfish as they were in life. We’ve thought about trying to move them, but it’s impossible. Lord knows how long they will be there. Still, as long as they are out there and we’re in here, I think it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, don’t you? Come on.”