by Chris Harris
He nudged me in the ribs and my eyes were drawn to Stan, who stood there laughing with his arm around his partner, Grace. Grace was heavily pregnant.
“Yes, yes thanks for reminding me I’m going to be a grandad,” I murmured with a smile on my face.
Stan had grown into a man to be proud of. Handsome and strong, he was also a valuable member of the community. He’d met Grace during a visit to a neighbouring community.
After a long-distance courtship, he’d eventually persuaded her to come and live with him.
And as marriages had created alliances between kingdoms in the past, so the joining of two young members from separate communities created bonds that strengthened the relationships between them.
“What time are you off in the morning, Tom?”
“Oh, not too early,” I replied, raising my glass. “It’ll take two days to get to the base on horseback. I’m going to pick up some of the other council members on the way so that we can travel together.”
A few years before, I had been asked to join a new initiative. The old politicians and leaders of the past had conceded that their skills and experience were no longer relevant in the world we occupied now.
Instead it was agreed that each area of communities would be represented by one council member, and these council members would come together periodically to discuss any matters raised.
Some of the issues could be agreed over the radio, but it was always best to meet face to face to get the more serious matters agreed.
Although all the communities could stay in contact with each other via radio, the crumbling roads had made travel by anything but horseback an arduous task and therefore visiting anybody but your nearest neighbour was difficult. For this reason, all the members for the entire country would get together at one large meeting and these were held every six months or so. The dates varied depending on the time of year, and the workloads of the communities, but as it took most of the council members several days to reach the base in Herefordshire (which was still the country’s “seat of power”), the meetings usually lasted at least a couple of days so that all the matters could be covered in that time.
I had been persuaded to accept the role.
“It’s going to be a good get together,” I remarked, “the trade routes are working really well now. And there’ll be enough surplus this year to enable more coal mines to open.
They’re also hoping to get more steam trains running soon, which will make it much easier to move the supplies around the country to where they’re needed.”
Alan laughed.
“It’s great, isn’t it? If I had told anyone before this happened that steam trains and horse-drawn canal barges were going to be the only economical and feasible way to deliver goods around the country, I’d have been locked up.”
“Yes, but the good thing is, apart from critical goods such as coal and salt, not much else needs to be delivered. We’ve all learned to live on what we can produce locally,” I pointed out.
“So, that bottle of brandy we shared the other day was what?” he said, filling up my wine glass again, and smiling.
“That was a gesture of goodwill from our friends across the Channel. The sailing boats that regularly cross the Channel don’t just carry people. Trade between countries is important,” I replied, trying to look important and indignant at the same time.
“That bottle was sent to me personally by the President of France. She sent a gift to each council member. You should feel honoured I’ve even shared it with you!”
“I dare you to send her a bottle of our home-made plonk to show her the best the UK has to offer.”
I laughed, almost spitting out a mouthful of wine.
“No way! Wars have been started for less. No, seriously though, the main agenda items are about trying to work out how big our food surplus will be this year.
That way, we can work out how many extra people we can feed and allocate to all the others jobs that need doing. I’ve mentioned coal mining and salt production, but we plan to expand the regional hospital programme too.
Those buildings need to be staffed and maintained, and the roads leading to them need to be kept in good repair.
When I took the job as council member on, I didn’t realise the half of it. Everything we improve creates more problems that then need to be looked at.”
Alan slapped me on the back.
“Rather you than me. I’m happy here with Michelle and the children. Security hasn’t been an issue for years and I can’t remember the last time I was called out to resolve anything more than bickering neighbours who just needed their heads knocking together to see sense. The first couple of years were a bit more interesting until those few rotten apples were removed from the barrel.”
Alan had been made Chief of Regional Police, a job he had done single-handedly, looking after security and policing matters for our own and other neighbouring communities.
As most communities had their own internal policing policies, it was rarely necessary for Allan to intervene. And we all still possessed weapons, although every community stored these in their own armoury, to be removed only when needed.
In the meantime, monthly training days kept us all prepared and competent, just in case.
As a precaution, I always carried my personal weapons when travelling across country to the base. Robberies occasionally happened on remote routes, but these were becoming very rare, as anyone who committed such acts found themselves vigorously pursued by groups of well-trained, heavily armed and angry volunteer community members.
“Is Daisy excited about coming along with you?” Allan asked.
“Yes, of course she is. Although I think she’s more excited about seeing that young lad who visited last year. I don’t know how they managed it, but he’s accompanying the South Wales council member to the base.”
I gave him a severe look.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d suspect that some unauthorised radio use has been allowed. But as that’s your department, I can’t possibly imagine that you’d let that happen. After all, a good friend wouldn’t let my precious daughter go behind my back and make all these arrangements, would he?”
He winked. “No way I’d allow that, my friend. But to be fair, sometimes it’s seemed as if forces that were beyond my control have been causing me to leave the radio room unattended. I’m not blaming your wife or my wife, but I think we may have been duped! Sorry.”
I sighed. “Oh well, I can always fall back on the traditional ‘scare the hell out your daughter’s boyfriend’ routine. It’s so much easier now we have guns.”
I half laughed, not even sure myself if I was serious or not. “I know I can trust you and Harry to look after things in my absence.”
I looked up at the sound of laughter. Harry, and Kim, who was also pregnant again, had joined Stanley’s group of friends.
As I looked at them, I couldn’t help thinking now that some of us were getting older, that the group I was looking at included the most likely candidates to be taking over the country’s leadership in the coming years. I looked round at the groups of people gathering around the large fire, and saw the faces of some of the original inhabitants of the community we had created, all those years ago.
Pete: the backbone of the community, despite his advancing years. He was still working alongside Michelle day after day, producing the lists and rotas that kept everyone working collectively and efficiently.
Mary: who still ran the community’s school.
Jerry and Fiona: without my chance meeting with him in a cash and carry warehouse at the very beginning, I doubt if we would have survived six months. They still worked as doctor and dentist for our community and those around us.
Much of Jerry’s time these days was spent treating injuries resulting from the manual labour that took up most of our days. The study he had begun at the start, to see if the change of diet and improved fitness regime we had been forced to follow as a result of our
new circumstances would improve general health, had proved conclusively that it did. The stores of regular antibiotics and traditional drugs had long ago run out, so he now spent the rest of his time consulting with Chris Garland, and studying the natural remedies that were available in the surrounding area. Combining this research with his knowledge of modern medicine, he had been very successful in coming up with remedies and concoctions to keep us healthy.
Other people milled around the fire. I spotted Chris Garland with his partner and a young family of his own.
All my friends were there, but they had become much more than friends; they were my extended family.
“Come on Allan, let’s go and dance with our wives. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
The Present Day
I snapped myself out of my daydream.
It had all seemed so real.
I sat and thought about my vision of the future for a while.
A warm glow spread though me. I knew that whatever happened, it was going to be all right. We were all going to prosper, grow and thrive from now on.
The worst of it was over. We’d survived attacks, famine, disease and much more.
We’d grown from a few neighbours and friends into a strong, secure community, more than capable of feeding and protecting itself. We had reached out to help others and been instrumental in getting the country back on its feet.
I thought about the part I had played in all this.
I thought about my frantic preparations before the event: amassing supplies, weapons and knowledge to help my family survive.
Then realising that there was strength in numbers, and deciding to help my immediate friends and neighbours.
Those few decisions in the early days had led all the way to a wedding attended by members of the royal family and the prime minister, and presided over by the Queen.
You couldn’t make it up!
I had asked myself a question at the very start of this story.
“Am I a Prepper?”
You know what? I think I probably am.
THE END
ALSO BY CHRIS HARRIS:
Dear Reader
I do hope you enjoy reading this book, but I feel I should warn you that, unlike my series UK DARK, which contains few profanities and limited descriptive violence, this book is different.
For the sake of realism there are frequent uses of the “F word” and the violence and gore is obviously more graphic. If this upsets you, then I am sorry, but in my defence, I think you would be hard pressed to find anyone under imminent threat of being eaten by a zombie who wouldn’t swear profusely!
Thank you for your understanding.
ZOMBIE CASTLE
ZC1
Chapter one
WOLFE MEDICAL RESEARCH LABORATORY
BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND
“It works, it bloody works! Yes! We’ve done it!” Professor Andy Lawrence shouted, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.
He was Chief Scientist at Wolfe Medical, a small, privately funded research laboratory where the past eight years had been spent striving to develop a genetically modified “virus killer”. Thousands of failed attempts had been made to develop a carefully altered rhinovirus (common cold virus) that would attach itself to a living virus in a cell and turn it into a harmless replica of itself. This process would continue until all virus cells were destroyed.
It would then lie dormant in the body until another strain of the rhinovirus was detected, when it would spring into action, modifying itself to match the new variant and starting all over again.
On the screen, small spiky blobs could be seen meeting and linking with other spiky blobs and then moving off to begin the process again.
“This,” said Andy, “is the twentieth different serotype this beauty has attacked and rendered harmless.”
His “second in command”, Professor Ian Devey, sat beside him and stared at the screen, lost for words. More staff gathered round as word spread quickly around the laboratory.
This was the Holy Grail of viral research, Nobel Prize winning medicine, and they were all part of it. Careers had been made by moments like this. Once the silent wonder of what they were witnessing had passed, and realisation of their achievement had sunk in, the celebrations began.
The serious lab technicians and research assistants abandoned their usual reserve and began to cheer and clap. Shouting to make himself heard over the noise, Ian shook Andy’s hand, “You must tell Mr Wolfe, he needs to know about this.”
Andy shook his head, “I can’t yet, Ian. I need to run more tests. Come on man, you know good research can’t be rushed. I’ll tell him as soon as we’re sure it really works. We both know what he’s like. He only wants positive results, not maybes. Another couple of months or so and then we’ll tell him.”
Disappointed, Ian nodded, “Of course, let’s not get his hopes up. Shall we call it a day? It’s two o’clock on a Friday afternoon. We won’t get this lot back to work, so let’s all finish early and I’ll buy the first round in the pub.”
“If you promise to buy the second one as well, I’ll get this place cleared in ten minutes,” Andy replied grinning.
Later on in the pub, Rose, one of the research assistants, typed a short message into her mobile phone, pressed send and put the phone back into her pocket. No one took any notice. Why would they? Texting was such a normal everyday activity.
Looking back, it was this moment that began the process by which human beings would cease to be the dominant species on the planet, and would become the hunted.