The Undead Day Sixteen

by RR Haywood

  I said I was working on a routine research project for the Ministry of Defence when the outbreak commenced and I had simply been fortunate enough to find these as I fled.

  He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his facial expression and the silence between us grew until I really felt the need to say something to fill that gap.

  Fortunately. Brian called out to some people behind him. Woman and men then came into view and amongst them I saw a veritable collection of shotguns and single shot rifles held by farmers.

  I was told that Emma lived in the village with her partner, James, and from these people I gleaned that James had been seen several times since the outbreak commenced foraging in houses for food and supplies but that Emma had not been seen.

  Brian said some of his group had spoken with James and urged him and Emma to join them at the church, particularly given that James was a mechanic and his skills were in demand. He refused.

  I also gleaned that James was “heavy-handed” to Emma in that he beat her regularly. This was worrying as I knew I had heard noises from within and now drew the thought process that perhaps Emma was being prevented from coming out to me.

  I thanked them for their time and made motion to leave. On doing so I asked what the red and blue crosses were for. The red crosses, as I predicted, signify a property considered dangerous either by heavy blood loss of the infected, corpses stacked within or dangerous structure due to damage sustained. The blue crosses represented a house that had been cleared of usable supplies and one that also had a fortified room within – such as a bedroom with a sturdy locking bar and bolts.

  This simple meeting gave me hope that mankind will find ways through the very worst of times. What I also noticed was the haggard look of the group. They appeared thin, weathered, pale and grey and despite being several in number, it was clear they were surviving but not thriving.

  On returning to Emma Ford’s house I left Jess secure a few doors down and made my way on foot to the back of the house. There I found the windows barred and secured and the back door fixed with several thick, wooden planks across it. However, on closer inspection I observed the planks were only fastened to the door and not the wall. To any casual glance the door appeared secured and strong but in reality it was held in place by a single lock.

  I did not knock but kept my resolve and quickly forced the door open, intent on finding Emma and possibly James and making them listen – even at gunpoint if the situation called for it.

  I found them immediately. I say I found them for I could not recognise Emma due to the disfigurement of her face from a vicious beating. Her nose, jaw and eye socket were visibly broken. Blood was everywhere. There were old bruises on her arms and legs too.

  She was holding the hilt of a large carving knife that was embedded in the stomach of a ginger haired male I can only assume was James.

  They were entwined in a murderous act of death in a kitchen that was once spotlessly clean, but now dripped with blood.

  My heart sank for I knew within myself that I had heard the noises of the struggle while I was outside. If I had taken action quicker I may have stood a chance at protecting her. But then, if I am to be painfully honest, I am not a brave man and even the confrontation with Brian and his group has left me shaken and worried.

  Jess and I are resting in a field to the side of the country lane that leads from Emma’s town. Our, or rather, my nerves are frayed to the extent my bowels have been loosened and my stomach churns.

  I will have a cup of soothing tea then start again.

  List entry for Emma Ford: Deceased.

  Cause of Death: Suspected Homicide.

  NB

  Sixteen

  ‘What can I do for you, young man?’

  Maddox stiffens at the patronising tone of the bearded Doctor Heathcliff Stone.

  ‘Maddox,’ the younger Doctor Andrew Stone moves swiftly towards him, ‘how are things?’ He adds quickly with a warning look at his husband.

  ‘Good,’ Maddox nods, ‘my name is Maddox,’ he says to Heathcliff, ‘not young man.’

  ‘Oh, come now,’ Heathcliff rocks on his heels, ‘it was a term of greeting and not something to be offended at.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Maddox slides effortlessly into a slowly increasing cultured tones, ‘I do not appreciate being called young man. I could withstand, it of course, but that would lead to ill feeling so I feel it is better to inform you now that I wish to be called Maddox and not young man.’

  ‘Oh,’ Heathcliff blinks sharply.

  ‘I have many younger people under my care,’ Maddox continues with a stark contrast between his appearance and tone of voice, ‘and many older people who look to me for guidance. Calling me young man denotes me of someone younger and in less of a position than others. It gives distinction to my age where there should be none.’

  ‘Good god,’ Heathcliff blinks.

  ‘That’s why he’s in charge,’ Andrew grins. ‘I think you’ve told him,’ he whispers audibly to Maddox, ‘come on, I’ll make a cuppa.’

  ‘Right,’ Heathcliff nods, ‘cup of tea, yes…splendid idea.’

  ‘Are the other two doctors here?’ Maddox asks.

  ‘Sleeping,’ Andrew replies, ‘they took the night shift.’

  ‘Things okay?’

  ‘Okay as they can be, given the circumstances,’ Andrew sighs as he leads them into the back room set aside as an office, rest room, day room and general store room.

  ‘Looks cleaner,’ Maddox stops at the door to peer round at the interior of the makeshift hospital. It’s set deep within the walls of the fort and there’s no natural light but the air smells clean and there’s not a trace of dirt to be seen.

  ‘Scrubbed and scrubbed and it will keep being scrubbed,’ Heathcliff joins the conversation. ‘I was a surgeon,’ he adds, ‘orthopaedics…you know, hip and knee replacements but I’m from the generation that insisted on the highest standards of hygiene when we still had ward matrons. Not one,’ Heathcliff holds a finger up for emphasise, ‘not one of my patients ever developed a hospital based infection and that is a record I intend to maintain.’

  ‘Good,’ Maddox nods, ‘if you need help speak to Lenski.’

  ‘Er, the other girl has been organising it…Lilly? Blonde girl, very pretty,’ Andrew says while igniting the gas stove.

  ‘Lilly,’ Maddox nods, ‘Lenski said she was doing well.’

  ‘Well?’ Andrew scoffs, ‘well is not the word. That woman is a godsend let me tell you that, and intelligent! My god she’s bright as a button.’

  ‘Worth training?’ Maddox asks.

  ‘Ahead of you on that one,’ Andrew laughs, ‘once we’ve settled down a bit we will need to identify those that can undertake training. Anne was a training doctor so she’s pretty good at that kind of thing.’

  ‘What am I good at?’ Anne appears behind Maddox yawning while casting a professional eye over the hospital, ‘and you lot make enough noise to wake the dead.’

  ‘Anne!’ Andrew stares in horror.

  ‘What? Oh,’ she chuckles, ‘yeah, bad joke…sorry,’ she shrugs with no hint of apology in her voice.

  ‘I need to speak to you,’ Maddox cuts to the point, ‘all of you. Is Lisa awake?’

  ‘Lisa?’ Anne calls down to the next room, ‘Maddox wants a word.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Lisa’s voice floats up, ‘yeah what’s up?’ She rushes up the short corridor while pushing her arms into the white lab coat.

  ‘It’s not urgent…no, no it is urgent,’ Maddox corrects himself, ‘everyone come inside and close the door.’ He is a teenage, black male from the streets with no formal education but Maddox commands an air of respect and the four experienced doctors shuffle into the small room, close the door and wait with interested expressions.

  ‘Howie is immune,’ Maddox says firmly, ‘Cookey is immune. Lani is immune. You know that, right?’

  ‘We do,’ Andrew speaks first.

  ‘There’s no way they passed th
e immunity to each other,’ Maddox states.

  ‘Are you telling us or asking us?’ Anne asks quickly.

  ‘I’m telling you,’ Maddox replies in a tone that does not invite a response, ‘Howie and Lani could have kissed or had unprotected sex but that would never be enough to pass whatever anti-bodies are needed to gain immunity. Lani turned. She became one of them but then came back,’ Maddox explains and again holds the four doctors interest with ease, ‘Cookey was bit. I saw it. We all saw it. I saw the actual bite too,’ Maddox adds, ‘so there is no doubt he should have turned. I saw Howie and Lani cut their hands and press the cuts to Cookey’s wound…’ Maddox imitates the slits they both made on their hands, ‘but again there is no way that would have passed the immunity.’

  ‘It’s very symbolic and yes,’ Lisa nods, ‘it shows the closeness of that group but…’

  ‘But we don’t know anything,’ Anne cuts her off, ‘this virus has no known rules. So until we have more knowledge… anything is possible.’

  ‘I accept that,’ Maddox holds a hand out before they descend into a protracted medical discussion, ‘but there is something else. I did not witness it,’ he says clearly looking each of them in the eye, ‘but everyone has told me that there was a big fight here on the Seventh day after the outbreak started…’

  ‘Again very symbolic,’ Lisa mutters.

  ‘And Howie was beaten down, properly beaten down,’ the tone he projects piques their interest, ‘many saw it,’ Maddox looks to each in turn, ‘then…’ he gives a tiny shrug of his shoulders, ‘then he got back up and started reciting the Lord’s Prayer.’

  ‘Wow,’ Anne blinks, ‘who heard him?’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ Maddox smiles like a wolf, ‘everyone did.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Andrew steps closer.

  ‘Everyone,’ Maddox repeats with a nod, ‘I’m told that every man and woman on that field heard those words. They heard the Lord’s Prayer as Howie said it…it turned the battle and…’

  ‘No,’ Anne cuts in with a firm shake of her head, ‘sorry.’ She holds a hand up, ‘I’m sure several people heard him and it became one of those things whereby everyone wants to say they heard it.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Maddox shrugs again, ‘speak to the lads that were with him. Speak to Clarence…you know him? The big one…ex-paratrooper that served in nearly every conflict in the last fifteen years…he heard it.’

  ‘He was probably close enough to hear it.’

  ‘In his head,’ Maddox gives the slow wolf smile again and projects a cold ruthless exterior that silences the four doctors, ‘Clarence heard it in his head.’

  ‘Right,’ Lisa says slowly, ‘in his head?’

  ‘And there’s more yet. Howie has this way about him…’

  ‘Way? What way?’ Anne asks bluntly.

  ‘I will tell you if you will allow me,’ Maddox says politely, but his smile hangs past the point of comfort.

  ‘Please,’ Anne nods.

  ‘The things, the infected people…whatever you want to call them…they are scared of him…Do not interrupt me again,’ he fixes Anne Carlton with a glare that immediately stems the words about to fall from her mouth, ‘I have seen this. With my own eyes in fights them like you could never imagine. We fought against thousands of them. We were so few in number but we won and the only reason we won was because of Howie and Dave. He…’ Maddox glances down trying to find the right words, ‘he just transforms into…I don’t know…I don’t know what to call it…he moves so fast, faster than anyone I have ever seen and they wilt back from him and there’s this power like…like an energy that flows and…’

  Heathcliff clears his throat, ‘there are accounts of famous military leaders that inspired their men to the greatest of victories against really terrible odds…’

  ‘Yes,’ Maddox nods, ‘Alexander the Great was such a man but no, not like this. My point is this and the task I have for you…’

  ‘Task?’ Anne scoffs, ‘you don’t task us.’

  ‘Yes I do,’ Maddox cuts her off, ‘Howie, Cookey and Lani were always immune. We need to know if the rest of their group is also immune. I want to know who else within this fort has immunity. Then we need to understand how these people came together when so many millions had died. What is it that draws them together? Why are they different? I need you to work out a way of testing people for immunity…’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Anne explodes, ‘we’re in a fucking old fort hardly coping with basic triage and…’

  ‘You are doctors,’ Maddox states, ‘you have the knowledge and training to build on. You are the only known hope this country has right now and you will do this.’

  ‘Or what?’ She glares at him, ‘is that a threat?’

  ‘No. You’ll know if I ever threaten you,’ Maddox replies softly. ‘Work together and find a functional test. Tell me if you need more equipment or supplies. This is the priority right now.’

  ‘We’ll do our best,’ Andrew nods sincerely.

  ‘What? With what? How?’ Anne pushes her head forward as the veins in her neck stand proud, ‘this isn’t an episode of fucking CSI or a Hollywood movie. Have you any idea how much research and specialist knowledge goes into the most basic of understanding of viruses and retro viruses? We,’ she motions to the other three with a frantic wave, ‘are general doctors…medical doctors…we are not scientists.’

  ‘On you,’ Maddox nods to the four and quietly walks out of the room, ‘and I’ll expect a status update every twelve hours.’ Closing the door behind him, he strides down the makeshift hospital and out into the early dawn with a mind that is already working on the next task at hand.

  Seventeen

  Derek leads the group further down the path as the first prism of light heralds the new dawn. The path is bordered by dense thickets on both sides and the verges are deep with luscious ferns, grasses and thick stemmed plants making a dog walkers dream.

  There’s not a sound ahead of them. Not a stirring in the rushes as the infected remain still. Silent drool drips from mouths crusted with scabs. Skin drawn and beyond deathly pale, now mottled with deeper greys and the veins within show through the thin skin. So organically deathly they are but the red of their eyes splashes colour like the hint of poppies within the greenery of the country path.

  The escaping group breathe hard and grunt as broken limbs repeatedly strike the ground. Grown men weep audibly at the pain of having to run with such injuries. Women cry at the pain their husbands are in and children whimper at the confusion harried rush from the place they thought was safe.

  ‘Right,’ Derek turns to face the group and drops his mouth at the sight before him. Men and women red faced and others so pale they look like they’ll pass out any second. Blood drips freely from wounds not given time to clot. His heart sinks at the view and although he knows they need to keep going, he also knows that without a break they will start dropping to die where they lay.

  ‘Everyone take a break.’ No sooner are the words from his mouth and those that can fall without pain do so instantly. Those with injuries are helped down to the ground and the groans, winces and yelps of pain echo down the almost enclosed path.

  ‘Piss,’ a gruff voiced man brushes past Derek and heads to the side already pulling the zipper down on his jeans.

  ‘Good idea,’ Derek mutters to himself and walks over to join him. Other men spot the action and join in.

  ‘What about us?’ A woman asks.

  ‘Go the other side,’ Derek replies as he releases his penis to aim deep into the ferns and deep ditch hidden from view.

  Jets of piss start streaming out as the men shuffle feet and grown from the agony of having to run so far after sixteen days of relative inaction.

  Stage fright hits Derek and suddenly the thought of pissing in front of other men stems his urgent need to go. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, willing his bladder to just open and let the gush out and when it finally does come he gives a small sigh of satisfaction. Hi
s piss arcs out and down, splattering the broad leafed plants but the noise is too weird, so he adjusts aim and points the jet through the gaps where it rains down on the greasy, grey hair of an infected. The piss rolls down the filthy, long strands to pour over the grey forehead and into the red, bloodshot eyes. A black tongue darts out to lick at the urine and the taste of human it brings and suddenly the restraint cannot be held.

  As one, the undead rise to surge from the ditch and up towards the standing men and the squatting women. Shock hits. Silent, stunned terror ripples down the line.

  A woman screams. Several women scream. Men scream and children scream until the lane is a cacophony of sound tearing the air apart.

  The surging mouths are open and the teeth bared as they sink into the closest flesh they can find and several men find their cocks bitten clean off as the infected sink deep into their groins. The bare backsides of the women are chomped and in fear they break away from the sides into the main group in the middle. People trip over the injured who scream in pain as broken limbs are kicked and trampled.

  The infected surge ever on from the ditches and into the group. It’s a pulsing, ragged attack as the deadly diseased mouths bite and the clawed hands rake open the skin of the living. With each bite and cut the infection is passed and storms through the veins as it resumes the battle within the new hosts bodies.

  Hearts pump strong and fast in panic and only serve to increase the speed in which the infection is delivered to every organ and cell within the body. The survivors flail, fight and some try to flee but the infection works faster than they can ever imagine. The first goes down with a sickening pain to the stomach that has them dropping to bend double. Others follow and one by one the thumps and groans spread down through the group as they topple and gasp from the agony.