by A. M. Keen
“Boys will be boys,” the doctor replied, looking over his glasses. The quick, sharp stab only lasted a second. The blade absorbed his blood, much like the machines used by diabetic people to monitor their sugar level. It must have been a new kind of instrument developed for use after everything that had happened, or at least brought online in the days after. The doctor turned the pen to read the result on its small electronic display. After a second it beeped.
“Clear,” the doctor said, removing the tab within his latex gloves. “Next.” Bucky stood aside, allowing Aaron to be tested next. He watched as the doctor changed blades and discarded the old one into the sharps box the soldier clutched. A thought passed through his mind. The pen used to test his blood had registered nothing, and cleared him from being infected. It tested for the virus that had caused the outbreak. They stood in a facility overseen by the army. The army had access to the pen. Did the army develop the pen for use knowing that the virus existed, or worse still, expect it to be used?
The doctor tested the remaining kids, all of which passed without concern.
“Follow me,” he began, walking in the direction of the tent. They followed, flanked either side by two armed soldiers.
“How long have you been here?” Bucky asked the doctor as they walked alongside a football pitch. Tents appeared everywhere, across the grass and concreted areas. So many, in fact, that he doubted there could be any way in walking between them. It reminded him of a shanty town like he’d seen on the television.
“Since the outbreak,” the doctor replied. “We’re lucky that this place is very well protected, by walls I mean. When Day Zero occurred, people caught outside in the area came here.”
Bucky frowned. “Day Zero?”
The doctor turned to him. “Yes, when the outbreak happened. It’s known as Day Zero. Have you managed to follow any of this on the radio or anything?”
“No,” Johnny piped up from somewhere behind them. “One of our friends used to keep us updated on things, but he, well, you know…”
The doctor nodded and pulled back the entrance to the tent. “Come in. We’ll need to get you registered.”
Inside Bucky found various people in army uniform scattered here and there. Some studied maps on tables, some were chatting, but it appeared that a whole lot of nothing was taking place within the temporary shelter.
“Captain Cardell, four refugees.” A middle-aged man bearing short, dark hair lifted his eyes from his paperwork. “They’re clean. Passed the test with flying colours.”
Cardell dropped his pen and leant back on his chair.
“Where are you from?” he asked in a stern tone.
As usual, the three behind remained silent, volunteering Bucky to be their spokesperson.
“Truth is, sir, we don’t really know.”
“It’s Captain, and what the hell do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”
“Oh, er, right. Sorry, Captain,” Bucky emphasised. “What I mean is we are from the Berrington Heights Secondary School and Sports Academy. We went to the Sir Thomas Beck School for a cricket match, and on our way back all this happened. We ended up taking shelter in a shop in a town a few miles away before deciding to make a run here.”
Cardell shifted in his chair. “And this is you? All of you? No teachers, teammates or anyone else?”
Bucky shook his head. “We did have, but they all died.”
A burley soldier joined the Captain behind his desk, handing some papers across to him. “The nearest town is Lefton, ten miles away. Is that where you were?” the soldier asked.
“It must have been,” Bucky replied, “we didn’t walk through any towns or villages on the way here.”
“This is Sergeant Hopkins. He does most of our reconnaissance within the area,” Cardell stated.
Hopkins ran a hand through his greying beard. “So, explain to me which way it was you all come from?” Cardell requested.
“We came along the road but got chased off by a gang of clowns,” Aaron informed them.
Cardell lifted his eyebrows. “Clowns? Really?”
Aaron nodded. “Honest, sir. We got away and decided to cut across the countryside to try and lose them, but we got attacked by the crazies whilst on some farmland and had to escape. We came back to the main road because we didn’t know which way to go, and followed the signs here.”
“It’s true,” Bucky added.
“Well, not that I’m calling you liars,” Hopkins began, folding his arms, “but last night we tracked a herd of over six thousand brain deads flocking along the road heading to Lefton. How did you manage to avoid them?”
“That’ll be the ones that passed us in the underpass,” Lacey explained.
“We found a car that was unlocked. Inside there were blankets and coats. We were hiding from the clowns who had caught us up. They were out scavenging and, lucky for us, the infected appeared and scared them off. We locked the doors, hid beneath the blankets and waited for them to pass. It took hours.” The sincerity in Aaron’s voice came through clear as a bell.
Cardell nodded and raised a hand for silence. “Well, you’re a long way from home, kids. Your school is about twenty miles away. The good news is that it’s a refugee camp, like this. The bad news is that there aren’t many people taking refuge in there. A few of our smaller camps have fallen to attack, but we don’t know by whom. We do know that larger camps such as this and your school have been relatively safe, due to their size and the military presence that they have. But, being realistic, you should forget any possibility of seeing your families again. I’m just being straight up honest with you.”
Bucky nodded. The captain’s words struck a chord, but deep down he knew that was always going to be the outcome.
“Are you in contact with the school?” Lacey asked.
“Yes, miss, we are. We’ve got something of a trade route running between our facility and a handful of other camps in the area. Their medical centre is the main reason we run back and forth to the school. It has doctors, surgeons and medicine that can treat most injuries and ailments, except of course for the virus. We ferry any of our sick and wounded out to them from the camp. It’s surprising how many people arrive here with broken limbs or flesh wounds. I’m surprised none of you have suffered from anything like that, to be honest. Now, the trucks are scheduled to head out there tomorrow. Sergeant Hopkins is leading that particular task. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind running you four back there, would you?”
“I would be delighted,” Hopkins replied in a sarcastic tone.
“Then it’s settled. Sears, come here.” Cardell gestured to a young man sat at a table. “Book them in, take them to the shower block and get them cleaned up. Give them a meal, too. Looks like they haven’t eaten in a week. Once all that’s done put them in the temporary accommodation for the night. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
And so it was. They filled out their details and followed Sears to the shower blocks that had previously been used by football players after a match. The hot water felt like nothing else in this world when Bucky stood beneath it. For that moment, his troubles washed away. Sears had given them all surplus army uniforms and discarded their battle stained cricket whites. Bucky stepped from the shower block feeling like a million bucks. The positivity of hot water and clean clothes expelled from his friends when they met together in the dining area. They checked each other out and laughed. Lacey still had her hair in the ponytail, which now shined when caught by the light. The people they met had been more than courteous, speaking with them, finding out about their journey and just listening to their encounters. Even though he had no idea who these people were, just talking about his journey and everything he’d witnessed and done relieved a pressure and stress that Bucky didn’t realise he carried.
After a hot meal of tinned steak and mashed
potatoes, Sears escorted them all to their quarters for the night, a room with five camp beds ready for the offering. While they sat talking, Bucky returned to the bathrooms to open his bowels, something he last remembered doing back at the hardware shop. And just when the day couldn’t get any better, a full roll of toilet paper hung in its holder.
Bucky returned to their quarters to find Lacey and Aaron off somewhere else.
“They’ve gone to try and find chocolate,” Johnny informed him upon his return.
Bucky slumped down on to the camp bed he’d claimed and rested his hands behind his head. Back in the old world, this camp bed would likely have felt like a breezeblock, but after God knows how many nights sleeping on the floor of a store room and then spending the night curled into a ball on the passenger seat of a car, the mattress felt full of flowers that eased his aches and pains the instant he fell on top of it.
“You know what this reminds me of?” Johnny said as they both relaxed in their quarters. “That camping trip we did in year seven. You remember? The team building, get-to-know-your-form trip we had to go on.”
“How the hell was that like this?” Bucky quipped, laughing at the comparison.
“It was like the time we did the orienteering, remember? Me, you, Jack Wiley and Lewis Brown out for the day, losing Pie and having to navigate back to camp ourselves?”
“My God. Pie. How long did he last at school?”
Bucky recalled the fat, bald science teacher named Mr Hollowing, whose nickname from the school kids had been Pie.
Johnny sniggered. “About a year or so. I still think he left because he lost us that day.”
“And when we took science afterwards, Lewis always used to hide from him and we’d be like, ‘lost him again, sir?’”
“That’s it, man. Those were the days. I can still see that bald head of his now. I never saw it before, and I’ve never seen it since, a man whose head was shaped in exactly the same way as a pork pie.”
Bucky laughed, but it was an uncontrollable laugh. The more he laughed the funnier he found it. Tears streamed from his eyes. The actualisation that they were safe, protected and going home set in. The remnants of emotion flooded out with his tears, and as his laughter subsided he finally felt like his old self. The old Bucky Jackson from the previous world.
“That was a good trip, though. Remember Luke Taunton pissing out through the tent flap at three in the morning because the toilets were too far away?”
“And the time we took the photo of Mr Brown smoking in the bushes, then uploaded it to the school’s website and Twitter?”
They laid in silence for a moment, reflecting on their old school memories.
“It was, though. The trip was like this,” Johnny began. “That day out orienteering, we relied on you to get us out of there, and you did.”
“I used the map on my phone,” Bucky replied.
“But we were, what, eleven years old? None of us had any idea how to use it, but you did. You rescued us.”
Bucky dismissed him. “Well, it was nothing like the time that sixth former tried to mug me of my chocolate bar and you set off the fire extinguisher all over him.”
“Oh yeah! I remember that. That was a good one, man. I got a week’s worth of detention for that. My mum was pissed, but my dad thought it was the best thing ever.” Johnny became sombre.”Man, I really miss them.”
The way he spoke caught Bucky’s attention. He looked across to him. “Are you okay?”
Johnny peered back. “You think what that army guy said was right? You know, about losing hope to see our loved ones?”
Bucky returned his gaze to the ceiling. “There’s always a chance, but I’m not counting on it,” he replied. “Too much has happened. Too many people have been infected. My heart tells me yes, we will see them again, but my head says that it’s just wishful thinking. If I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t think I’ll see my family again. None of us will.”
“But you seem okay with it, though, like everything is fine and that shit just happens?” Johnny seemed disheartened and diminished.
“No, I’m not. But it’s like when our first pet dog died. It’s never the same, you adjust to it. You find a new normal and build it up from there. I’m sad at the thought of my parents dying, or to think they’re wandering around out there trying to take chunks out of someone who is not infected, but I have to be realistic. I’ve accepted that they’re dead, which is the worst scenario for me. If we get to school and I find them there well and happy, it’s a bonus.”
Johnny sighed. “I wish I could think like that. I wish I was that strong.”
Bucky turned to him once more. “You are, man. There’s no way you could have made it this far without being strong. Just keep at it. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, that’s what they say. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Look what we’ve got!” Lacey strutted into their room like a global mega star. She threw something at Bucky which bounced off his chest and landed by his hand.
“Choc-o-late!” Aaron grinned, throwing one to Johnny.
Bucky sat up. “Where’d you get this?” he asked, opening the purple wrapper with excitement.
Lacey slumped on to her bed, crossing her legs as she did so. “The good people in the canteen,” she replied.
“Oh God,” Aaron said, his mouth full of chocolate. “This is so good.”
“You see this,” Johnny replied, holding a block between his fingers, “sent from heaven. A message to say well done.”
“Amen to that!” Bucky quipped.
The four friends ate their prize and chatted between themselves as the night approached. Bucky finally decided to call it a night around ten o’clock, wanting to make sure he had plenty of time to rest in comfort. He said his good nights and crashed on the bed without climbing between the sheets. The day had passed by too quickly. Walking from the underpass to the stadium had taken the majority of the day, and now his legs ached as he rested from the journey. His awareness of those around him soon vanished, as did the room and the bed on which he laid upon. Soon he drifted to sleep, content within his surroundings and the new world that dawned around him.
* * *
“And this is definitely it? You’re sure?” the blue haired clown asked, hiding behind a vehicle parked by the army. He’d waited for the change of guard on the watchtower before scooting to the entrance and taking the sword Bucky had been forced to drop outside the stadium. He then slid back into the darkness where a yellow-haired clown had been waiting.
“Too right. That’s the one that belonged to Stank.”
Blue grimaced in disbelief. “They made it this far?”
Yellow nodded in the darkness. “It would appear that way, and I bet they’re sitting pretty inside that camp there.”
“Not for long. When Grout finds out about this all hell is gonna break loose. We’ll get the little bastards, just you wait and see.”
Six
Captain Cardell joined his friend and colleague Sergeant Hopkins on the lookout platform overseeing the once bustling sports complex. The summer night felt cool but pleasant. Hopkins carried the rifle as his captain lit a cigarette.
“Why do you do it?” the sergeant asked as Cardell expelled grey mist into the air.
“What?”
“This. Lookout duty and all the other hands on stuff? You’re the leader of this camp, you don’t need to do it.”
“I’m setting an example for my men,” he replied before taking another drag. “Soldiers respect a superior who gets his hands dirty. With this new world now upon us, I don’t want to give a reason to anyone who might try and start a mutiny.”
A few infected had found their way to the gates of the stadium, but none paid any attention to their surroundings as they staggered like drunkards
across the complex.
Cardell scoured the darkness illuminated in patches by flood lights that still worked. The monotonous, low drone of a thousand voices emerged from across the distance.
“You hear that?” Cardell asked, reaching to the platform to grab a pair of binoculars.
“Yes. You often find herds of the brain dead wandering along the road up there. Few manage to turn and head on to the complex. Most seem to stumble their way towards the industrial estate.”
“No, not that. I hear something else within the voices.” Cardell made out a rattling, metallic groan as though some kind of mass vehicle had taken to the road.
Hopkins nodded. “Now you mention it, yeah, I do hear something.”
“It sounds like…” Cardell scoured the road. There it was. “A Challenger 2.”
Heading toward them appeared one Challenger 2, a standard battle tank used by the army. The vehicle rattled and clunked as its tracks rotated, pushing the vehicle onward. Behind the army vehicle a mass of brain dead followed.
“I don’t believe it,” Hopkins said as the tank drew closer. “Is that ours?”
“Has to be. No one else has access to these.”
“You want me to open the gates?”
Cardell shook his head. “No. Play it safe for the time being.”
The Challenger turned onto the car park and approached the stadium. Masses of brain dead followed.
“Shit,” Hopkins blurted, “they’re following it.”
“Take your stations!” Cardell yelled, rallying his troops. A mass of footfalls thudded to life as each soldier adopted their specified position. All area weaknesses became covered by guns. The Challenger rattled to a standstill a few feet from the stadium gates.
Cardell peered on, waiting for something to happen. After a moment, the hatch squeaked and rose upward. Cardell frowned. Standing from inside the tank a dirty faced clown appeared. His head bore no hair. Piercings littered his ears and nose. His torso hid behind a faux fur coat. Its sleeves had been removed exposing the clown’s tattooed skin on both arms. The face paint strewn across his features had been smudged and distorted. Cardell believed black lips and eye sockets had existed there at one time. The clown looked to them without uttering a word.