by Russ Watts
A moaning sound came over his shoulder and Bashar turned around ready to strike. He didn’t want to accidentally hit Tony or Lulu, and he hesitated. All he saw was the fog, the fog that seemed to be sucking the life from him; that was hiding him from the van, the fog that was a wall of solid grey and blocking out the sunlight.
“Who’s there?” Bashar felt his mouth go dry but forced the question out. He had never felt more exposed. He licked his lips. “Who’s…?”
A bloated figure emerged slowly from the fog, its distended obtuse belly looking like a balloon about to burst. Veins scarred the flesh and a drop of blood appeared on the surface of it as the rest of the body came into view. The belly belonged to a young woman who held something in her hands. Bashar stepped back. The woman was holding a girl’s head. Shock and terror obliterated Bashar’s logic and he froze. He held the hammer aloft but was unable to take his eyes off the woman as she raised the decapitated head to her mouth and sucked eagerly at the neck, deep red blood running down her pale arms and chin. The woman clamped her teeth around a piece of loose flesh and ripped it from the head. As she chewed on it, her eyes drifted up and looked at Bashar. Black orbs stared at him and the woman lowered the severed head. A low moan escaped her blue lips and she dropped the head which rolled away.
Bashar swung the hammer as the woman lunged for him. Her cold hands swiped at him and Bashar felt the hammer connect with something. It was enough to swat the woman away and when she resumed her attack Bashar noticed he had struck her across the jaw. The lower half of the woman’s face hung loosely on her skull, and several teeth fell out as she moaned again. The woman raised her arms and lunged for Bashar again. Instinctively he swung again, this time making sure he caught her on the side of the head. The hammer crashed through the woman’s temple and showered him with bone fragments and blood. The woman fell to her knees in front of him and looked up. Dirty blonde hair fell in front of her eyes and Bashar paused.
“I’m sorry,” said Bashar. “Are you…?”
The woman’s swollen belly wasn’t as a result of being fat. Her arms and legs were skinny, and her drawn face appeared sad. As Bashar looked at the pathetic figure in front of him he realised that she was pregnant. There were cuts all over her arms and what appeared to be teeth marks just beneath her belly button. Bashar felt repulsed by the woman and immediately ashamed for his feelings. Perhaps she wasn’t like the others, like Roza, Angie or Bob? Maybe she was on drugs. The fog had an unsettling effect and it wasn’t impossible that she was coming to him for help. He had assumed she was attacking him, but what if she just needed help? Whatever it was that caused someone to pick up a human head had clearly had such an effect that the woman had lost her mind.
“I can call for help,” Bashar said rather timidly. The woman was helpless and would bleed to death quickly if he didn’t do something. Without their mobiles working the only chance she had was if they took her to a hospital. He needed to get to the van and Tony more urgently than ever.
“Tony, where are you?” Bashar’s voice seemed to echo off the fog itself. There was a scuffling noise in the distance followed by a thudding noise, but no reply. Bashar looked at the woman who was clambering to her feet, his breath catching as she stood before him.
A network of broken capillaries stretched across the woman’s exposed stomach. The supple skin was almost at breaking point from the undead child within that was trying to break free. With the cuts on her face and her jaw in pieces it hardly seemed feasible that this woman could stand, and yet she was back on her feet slowly shuffling toward Bashar once more. He pointed the hammer at the woman’s head.
“Look, whatever’s wrong with you, I can help.”
His words had no effect. The woman gave no indication she had heard him and continued to advance upon him. She swiped a hand at him and Bashar aimed the hammer at her head once more. He hoped he could perhaps knock her out but she moved just as he struck as she tried to rake her fingernails down his skin. Her head moved a few inches to the side which was enough for Bashar to lose his aim. The hammer glanced off the woman’s cheekbone and gouged out a hole in her neck as the hammer tore through her skin. Blood spewed freely from the open wound and Bashar watched in disbelief as the woman ignored it and kept walking toward him as he backed away. She emitted a gurgle and swiped at Bashar again.
“Just stop,” implored Bashar, but the woman raised both arms. Bashar took a breath and then aimed the hammer carefully. He had to make her stop. If she was a junkie then it wasn’t his problem. He had tried to help, but there was no helping some people.
Bashar hit the woman and she fell to her knees once more. With no hesitation he began to rain blows down upon her head until her flailing arms finally stopped and her body ceased moving. Only when he had crushed enough of her skull that he could see her brain seeping through her lank hair did he finally drop the hammer.
“Christ.” It was just like the coffee shop. The woman who had attacked Tony hadn’t stopped either. Angie hadn’t stopped when she was biting Bob. Something had taken over these people, turned them into something else. Was Sam correct? Were the streets of London suddenly full of zombies? Bashar felt sick as he looked at the body of the woman he had just killed. That made two. He had killed two people this morning. He was supposed to be looking for a job, to be taking a pleasant walk around London, not butchering people with knives and hammers. Where had everyone gone? Why had he been left alone?
“Tony? Lulu?” Bashar looked around the fog but he saw nothing. The creeping fog was slowly settling on him and he brushed a fine layer of it off his shoulder like dandruff. There were more sounds out there, more moaning and shuffling sounds. There were more of them like the pregnant woman, he was sure of it. He quickly picked up the hammer trying to ignore the hair and flesh stuck to it, and then tried to steady his nerves. His hands were trembling and he knew the adrenalin was flying through his body. He wasn’t a fighter, he was an accountant. He didn’t want to do this, he just wanted to get home. His cramped flat in Ealing suddenly seemed very appealing. He could wait for Nurtaj from there. He desperately wanted to hear the sound of her voice. He desperately wanted to hear the sound of anyone’s voice. The gloom was never-ending, the fog incessant. The groaning sounds that bounced through the fog were unnatural and disconcerting. The pain in his shoulder was back too and he could feel blood trickling down through his shirt to his armpit. He had probably reopened the wound when he had beaten the woman to death. As he tried not to look at the body he could feel his knees shaking too. He was lost. These creatures were all around him, waiting to pounce. He had lost the others. He had lost everything. Where could he run? He held the hammer but he felt sick at the thought of using it again.
Suddenly a hand grabbed his arm, the fingers coiling tightly around his wrist. Bashar’s heart skipped a beat and he turned to strike his assailant. Instead he found himself looking into Tony’s concerned face and rapidly Bashar’s confidence came back, the adrenalin replaced with relief that he hadn’t been abandoned.
“Quick, get in, we’ve no time.”
If Tony had seen the body of the woman at Bashar’s feet then he gave no indication of it. Bashar let Tony pull him away and within a few feet they were at his van. A white van with the side doors slid back awaited Bashar. Inside he could see row upon row of tools, an assortment of cables and wires, unmarked boxes and oily rags. Lulu climbed out with a small wrench in her hands.
“Can we go now?” she asked Tony without even looking at Bashar. She wrapped her scarf around her neck. There was no evidence she had been in a fight or was hurt. She just looked frustrated, impatient, and Bashar wondered if when she had lost his hand it had really been an accident. “It’s cold out here.”
“Jump in. I took care of that old man.” Tony looked knowingly at Lulu. He wiped his wrench on his jeans, smearing blood down one leg, and then looked at Bashar. “We had some… trouble. I guess you did too. Let’s go, eh? No point hanging around here waiting for any more of
those psycho’s to show up. I’ll drive.”
Tony cautiously slid around the van to the driver’s side. Bashar put his hand on the door to get in, only to find Lulu’s hand attempting to block him.
“Move, I want to sit in the middle,” said Lulu. “I’m not sitting in the back. It’s only fair. You’ve done enough.”
Bashar was about to remove his hand and let her get in, when he paused. The fog surrounding them both echoed with the catcalls and moaning sounds that had become so familiar to him, and any number of attackers could be hiding within it. Yet despite his concerns there was something about Lulu’s attitude that he couldn’t tolerate any longer.
“I’ve done enough?”
“I guess you forgot about my friend that you murdered.”
Bashar sighed. “Really? You want to bring that up now?”
Lulu folded her arms and pouted. She had a pained expression on her face. “No, I want to go home but you’re in my way. You’re supposed to look after us. You’re a grown man. So let me get in the middle seat and sit next to Tony. At least he protected me. What has your lot ever done for me except go around blowing things up and shooting innocent people?”
Bashar had heard racist comments before and far worse that had come from far more mature people. But Lulu was off target, by a long way. “Are you… look, Lulu, you seem to be misunderstanding the situation here. Let me try and clear things up for you. There are things out there trying to kill us. Both of us. After what you’ve seen, do you really think this is the result of a bomb or a terrorist group? Those people who attacked us, Roza, the woman that Tony killed in the café, the man he saved you from… they were dead.” Bashar remembered the pregnant woman whose body lay silently only a few feet away. Was the baby still growing inside her dead now too? Bashar shivered. “I hate to admit it but Sam might have been right about the zombies.”
“Yeah, right. All I know is you’re in my way. I don’t care about you.”
“That much I guessed on my own.” Bashar pulled open the door.
“Hurry up you two,” said Tony as he started the engine. “What’s the hold up?”
The quiet rumble of the van’s engine provided Bashar with some reassurance that Tony was going to be able to get them away from there. The solidity of the van’s door and the simple presence of Tony was assurance enough that they would be fine. He just wanted Lulu off his back. “When you let go of my hand was that intentional? Did you see the van, or did you just think you could lose me in the fog?” asked Bashar.
Lulu shrugged. “I don’t know. It was dark. Tony pulled me and my hand slipped. Then this old man attacked us. What does it matter, you’re here now, so let’s get a move on.”
As Bashar listened to her, Lulu’s scarf slowly began to rise. The end behind her back drifted up into the fog as if lifted by an invisible force. The black and white spots faded into the grey, and Bashar gripped the hammer in his hands.
“What?” asked Lulu, seeing Bashar’s eyes open wide. “You got something else to say?”
The scarf reached a horizontal and slowly but inexorably began to be pulled into the fog.
Noticing that Bashar was looking over her shoulder instead of at her Lulu felt the scarf tug at her collar. Her sullen expression switched instantly to confusion. “What the…?”
“Lulu, quick, take my hand.” Bashar kept one hand on the van door and reached for her but she ignored his offer and kept tugging at her scarf.
“Quickly!” Bashar reached toward her but the scarf was suddenly yanked backwards, tightening like a noose around Lulu’s neck. She pulled at it with the intention of slackening the knot around her neck but she was unable to slip her fingers around it, and her eyes bulged as it began to throttle her. Lulu’s feet slipped on the road as she was instantly catapulted backwards into the fog, as if sucked into another plane. She disappeared in a split second and Bashar stared at the wall of fog helplessly, unable to forget Lulu’s fading screams.
CHAPTER 6
“Tony, wait, I’ve got to get Lulu!”
Bashar sprang forward into the gloom, not knowing what he was running into. He waved the hammer from left to right as he cut a path through the fog, Lulu’s screams present and clear. More noises accompanied them, sounds of fighting, grunting and banging noises. Bashar tripped as he stumbled over a discarded shoe but ploughed on, swinging the hammer like a scythe.
The hammer suddenly struck a wall and Bashar stopped. On his left was a brick wall and he paused, trying to control his breathing and panic so he could hear where Lulu was. Scuffling noises up ahead gave him a good idea, though visibility was still poor. He kept close to the wall and advanced. He couldn’t let the girl go like that, not like Wilf, no matter what she had said to him. He kept his free hand on the cold brickwork until he reached a door frame. The door was wide open. On the ground lay a menu and a small black handbag. There was a painted metal sign above the door that read ‘Maiden England – Gentleman’s Bar.’ Bashar glanced inside as he crossed the doorway. A set of steps led down into the bar but the room was submerged in fog. Beyond the steps all he could see was the faint outline of a pool table on a flowery carpet. The balls were set up as if ready for a game and two cues lay on the green felt. The bar itself, the tables, the chairs and customers, whether dead or alive, were all hidden. He continued on, hurrying to aid Lulu.
“Lulu, help me. Where are you?”
Bashar let the tips of his fingers trace the brickwork and his feet crunch the broken glass on the pavement. He passed a window that had been smashed and walked carefully around a chair that had evidently been tossed from the bar outside. There was blood on the seat and one of the legs had been snapped off. Bashar stepped passed it.
“Lulu?”
The crunching of the glass underfoot stopped and Bashar looked down to see he was standing on something soft. He picked up something long with black and white spots, and then dropped it when he realised it was Lulu’s scarf. In that moment he lost hope for her. Her screams had stopped. The fog had taken her too, or rather the things in the fog had. Was it real? Were there zombies out here, dead people hiding in the cover of the thick fog snatching the living? Bashar couldn’t believe it.
“Lulu!” he called out.
He had lost her and in going to find her had lost Tony too. Bashar didn’t know what else he could do.
“Lulu? Answer me if you’re there.”
There was a muffled sob and Bashar gripped his hammer. Another sound reached his ears and he turned his back to the wall. There was definitely somebody out there. He steeled himself and then walked into the fog leaving the security of the solid wall behind him. He walked three or four feet and then found the edge of the road. He stepped over the gutter and two legs emerged from the fog. They lay perfectly still and he walked forward, hoping it wasn’t Lulu. The upper half of the body remained hidden and he prepared himself. Despite her attitude, he didn’t want the girl dead. He took a step further and the rest of the body became clearer. It was a girl, but not Lulu, and Bashar exhaled loudly, relieved it wasn’t her. When he took another step forward he found himself looking at the complete body of the dead girl. She wore black trousers and a white shirt that had been pulled up to expose her midriff. A name badge above her left breast read, ‘Clara.’ The girl’s skin looked almost pure white which only heightened the vibrant colour of the red blood that splattered her face. She lay spread-eagled on the road, a torn piece of Lulu’s scarf in her hand. Her face lay staring upward to the sky, one eye wide open, the other obliterated by the two foot long piece of wood that stuck out of her eye socket like a flagpole. Bashar saw Lulu then, sobbing, close to the girl’s side.
He bent down and approached slowly. “Lulu, you okay?” he whispered.
Lulu was on her knees. She wiped an arm across her face and looked up at Bashar. “She was trying to kill me. I tried to get away from her, but—” Lulu looked at her hands covered in blood.
Bashar looked at the dead girl and could guess what h
ad happened. He didn’t need to press Lulu or understand everything. The girl had been like the others. She was probably already dead before Lulu did anything. The wooden pole sticking out of the girl’s face looked suspiciously like a chair leg, and Bashar thought Lulu had done well to fight as she had. Lulu looked shattered and Bashar wondered if he should try to offer some comfort. He could put an arm around her, console her, even let her cry on his shoulder, yet something told him she didn’t need that. She was in shock but her strength would soon return if he could get her away from the dead girl.
“Come on. Tony’s still waiting for us. The van, remember?”
Bashar stood and waited as Lulu reluctantly got to her feet too. “Stick close. I think I can get us back.” Bashar figured he could find his way back to the bar and from there to the van. It wasn’t far. He just hoped Tony was still there.
Lulu stepped close to Bashar and then slipped two fingers through a loop in his trousers, pressing her hand in between his belt and waist.
“Okay then.” Bashar headed off into the fog, away from the dead girl and to where he hoped he would find the bar again. Though he had no sense of direction without light or visibility, he was close enough to find the curb and from there the brick wall again. Lulu stayed close behind him the whole time but said nothing. Occasionally he would hear her sniff or choke back tears, but they could talk about it later if she wanted. All Bashar wanted to do was find the van before Tony gave up on them and took off. They passed the broken chair and glass, and then reached the doorway. Bashar glanced inside again but the room appeared to be empty.
“Almost there,” he said. “Almost there.” The words were meant to reassure Lulu, but they only seemed to unsettle him. Who was he kidding? Almost where? Ealing was across the city. His wife was somewhere in a plane above Eastern Europe. Exactly where were they going? There were no sirens, no police; no one at all apparently to help or clean up. Bashar reminded himself to take it in small steps. Get to Tony’s van. Once there he could set himself the next goal. If they didn’t find the van again though, they were going nowhere. He crossed the doorway and felt Lulu’s fingers slip from his waist. As he stepped on the menu he heard Lulu’s footsteps stop.