Day Zed - Box Set: Volumes I and II

by Charles Smith

  The tone now changed in Haydn’s voice as he began to recant the last couple of hours within the bunker. After years of exposure to the world’s media the Prime Minister had never looked so uncomfortable, he had always been so calm and collected in the past. Now that expression of calmness was vacant from his face, it had been replaced by what looked like fear, and anxiety.

  “It is with deep regret, that I now have to inform all of you watching that the Battersea facility has now been compromised, the rest of the bunker has already fallen.” The Prime Minister announced.

  “Control of the country will now fall to the Deputy Prime Minister, who since the outbreak has been overlooking the installation of the safe zone in Berwick.”

  After a long pause the Prime Minister placed his hands on the desk he sat at and finished his statement.

  “It has been a privilege to serve all of you and I wish all of you the best of luck in the future.”

  The broadcast ended, and everyone sat staring silently at the now black screen until Penny asked them, “Did anyone else notice the bandage on the Prime Ministers hand?”

  Everyone agreed that they had, no more was said, until Kathy informed them that the next Government broadcast from the Battersea bunker would automatically be played at eleven that evening.

  1st July, West Ham, East London, 6:11pm

  Gerard and Shanice made the short journey across the fields in no time at all. By travelling across the private field, and then the gasworks field they had skipped all the commotion that was happening in every street around them. Gerard had grown up in the area, and knew where every field, alley and shortcut led to. As they crossed the fields he thought back to his childhood, and how he and his friends had loved coming to the fields, and spending hour after hour recreating famous battles. Over time as they all grew older the friends had all gone their separate ways, Gerard had found God, and he had never looked back. Now as they travelled past the large methane tank, he wished he could rewind time, and go back to a happier place than the world they now lived in.

  The allotment which lay the other side of a rusty chain link fence had been tended to by his family over the last three generations. When his grandfather had no longer wanted the site his father had taken it over, and when his father had fallen ill he himself had started to work on the small piece of land. Gerard had always liked to build things, even as a child he had built his own go carts, and even a fort in the tree’s, it had come as no surprise to his proud family when he graduated from university and became an engineer.

  His passion for building had even taken over at the allotment, after just a few months he became tired of the hard work, for very little personal reward, he just wasn’t cut out to be a vegetable grower. Being as the plot had originally been his Grandfathers Gerard kept the plot on. He had therefore decided to start his own building project underneath the shed. After removing the base of the shed, and strengthening the sides he had dug down. After digging so far he brought old railway sleepers into the shed and cut them to size in order to construct a shaft. Slowly but surely after months of hard work he had dug far enough down to create something akin to a basement under the allotments.

  The room was deep enough down, and supported by the necessary wooden beams that it was structurally sound. He had kitted the basement out with two beds, storage shelves and even a wood burning stove, the flux for this ran up and out of his own shed roof. Food and water had been brought down and stored, and every year he would change the tins for fear of the best before date expiring, he even went as far as donating the old tins to school fetes rather than waste good food.

  When he had begun earning more money at work, and he inherited the house his attention was re-directed to the new bunker in the back garden. Since then he would visit the allotments just once a month to make sure it was still secure, and would do any necessary repair work. As time went by and he replaced something in the more modern bunker, he would recycle the old equipment down below his shed in his original bunker.

  They dismounted the bikes just short of the fence and Gerard made sure to lay them down in the long grass so that they couldn’t be seen. First he lifted Shanice over the fence, and climbed over himself once she was safely over the other side. For Shanice this was a first, she had never been to the allotments, and to the little ten year old girl it seemed exciting. Apart from the incidents back at their garden Gerard had kept her away from the stark reality of the new world, as it changed. It was hard enough for Gerard to mentally deal with, and if he as an adult struggled with it what would it do to his little Princess?

  Gerard found the required key on his chain unlocked the padlock on his shed, and ushered Shanice inside, he quickly drew the three deadbolts on the inside to lock the door, and he then crouched down, and rolled back the rubber mat that covered the floor. The mat had been hiding two trap doors that led down to the bunker, and after unlocking these he lit a paraffin lamp, locked the doors behind them, and led his daughter down to her their new home.

  Once below Gerard turned on the petrol run portable generator, and flicked the light switches on. Shanice stood in awe at what her father had created. She had expected to find walls of earth, and a damp unwelcoming room. What she saw was painted walls, from this hung various drawings that she had done at school, and the floor was lined with the same rubber matting as what lay in the shed above them. They had lights, and extractor fans whirred away above them, Gerard had reversed some to suck air in whilst the other half sucked out the damp.

  Her father had even constructed walls to make rooms, and when she was led into her own room, she instantly recognised all of the recycled belongings. The little girl ran to the bed and scooped up the soft cuddly toy that she thought had long been lost, Tigger hadn’t aged at all and she was glad to be re united with him. She turned and looked at Gerard. “Dad, thank you this place is amazing.” She informed him.

  “Sorry we had to leave the last place Princess.”

  “But this one is so much better.”

  “Why I’m glad you like it.”

  “How long will we stay here Daddy?”

  “As long as we can baby.”

  “Why don’t you go and play with your old toys for a little while Princess?” Gerard asker her.

  “Okay Daddy.” Shanice replied and off she went to dive straight into her old toy box.

  Gerard watched his daughter begin to play with her old toys whilst he thought about her question of how long they would stay. Turning back to survey the food and water he had stored, if all went well they would be able to stay here for at least two months. Hopefully that would be long enough for the authorities to get the contagion under control.

  He left Shanice to play whilst he moved to the outer room, and moved over to the desk in the far corner, he switched on the old CB radio he had owned as a teenager. He left the receiver switched on in case he picked up any radio chatter, and then moved over to the shelving to pick what they would eat for dinner that evening. All cooking would have to be done by camping stove, and he had plenty of spare burners for it. The choice for dinner wasn’t that difficult he would make Shanice her favourite Macaroni Cheese. He cooked enough for the two of them to eat and when he was ready he called his daughter to the table. “Shanice dinners ready.”

  “Coming Daddy.” She replied.

  She sat down at the small garden table, and closed her eyes with her palms clasped together, and she didn’t open her eyes again until Gerard had finished his prayer. They were so hungry that the bowls were scraped clean in no time at all. Even the seconds went down as quickly as the first helping. Just as they were finishing their meal a series of thuds travelled down through the ground and resonated across the ceiling of the small room. The thuds grew in intensity and multiplied at the same time.

  “What’s banging Daddy?” The little girl asked her father.

  “Ssssshhhh Princess, that’s the bad men.”

  Gerard knew zombies were attracted to sound, light and movement,
but they were underground, so what had drawn the zombies towards them? Gerard knew that the shed would not withstand too much pressure from the zombies above them. He frantically looked around trying to work out what it was that was giving their position away. He stopped looking when his eyes fell upon the noisy petrol driven generator, with a swift movement he picked up two gasoline lanterns and lit them, and then switched the cut off button on the generator, the generator coughed and sputtered as it cut out, then finally grew quiet.

  The noise above them continued, but bit by bit subdued, until it stopped all together. The attention span of the zombies above them had waned, and they had wandered off. Gerard sighed with relief, and then he looked at Shanice, as she rocked whilst caressing her Tigger. Gerard moved over to her and took her in his arms to comfort her.

  “Don’t be scared Princess, Daddy will protect you.” He reassured her.

  “I’m not scared Daddy, its Tigger he is petrified.” Shanice corrected him.

  Gerard laughed as he hugged his daughter she was so much like her mother.

  1st July, Quintin Island, Malaysia, 8:10pm GMT

  Jim Douglas had purchased the idyllic Quintin Island several years ago. With just a circumference of two miles, the tiny island, far enough from the coast of Malaysia was rarely stumbled upon. To ensure that the virus was never brought onto the island by a visitor, the Biocorp chairman had hired a team of engineers to turn the entire island into a fortress.

  The island had previously had a small beach that boats could use to come ashore, whilst the rest of the island had been sheer rock face. The hired engineers had built a fifteen foot high natural stone wall, sourced from the islands quarried rock, across the once accessible beach front. The only way into the island was now by a cave, and that would take a boat to an enclosed area underneath the island. Entry through this area was by a solid steel door that had been carved into the cave. The door itself was impregnable, made of ten inch thick solid steel, and a frame encased it into the wall. The wall was naturally too thick to be cut or breeched by explosives. The other side of the fortress door laid a set of steps which led to the island, and these had been carved out of the natural rock walls. Once up the stairs you were greeted by the chairman’s ultra-modern mansion made purely from large sheets of polished concrete and glass.

  Jim sat in his lavishly decorated study viewing intelligence reports of the virus, and how it had so far affected each region. Biocorp had managed to so far infect most of Europe, the America’s and Canada. Over the next twenty four hours reports suggested that all of these territories would totally succumb to the effects of the deadly “Day Zed” strain. There would be pockets of survivors scattered all over these countries, but as their infrastructure had already collapsed it would be just a matter of time before humanity would cease to exist. When the world’s super powers had rejected his company’s latest two products he had chosen to act, rather than wait for the board of shareholders to eventually dismiss him for the heavy losses the company would now suffer.

  Recently Jim Douglas had been focussing his attention on the next task, which had been even more discreet than the release of “Day Zed”. Jim had calculated that no Australasian flights would reach their destination, after news of the source of the virus was relayed to other countries, and how the contaminations broke out.

  Just after ten minutes of the virus being dispatched to Biocorp headquarters, and distributed into its remote controlled delivery vessels. The virus had been collected by courier, and taken to the main lab, where the vials were immediately duplicated according to James Faulkner’s notes. The original vessels were then dispatched to their targets. The three new secret vials of the fatal virus were dispatched to public places in Australia, China and Hong Kong and to be released in very busy public places. All three new strains had been released into the general population just twenty minutes ago, meaning that the virus would not fully take affect for another seven to eight hours.

  An explosion had occurred at the main lab, just before the virus was released in England’s main airports. All the staff who had not been invited onto the flight out of London had perished. All loose ends were now tied up in London and no research would ever be found which related to the three engineered strains being merged together. Biocorp main plan was to make sure an antidote could not be created, and although all the labs and notes relating to the virus had been destroyed, the knowledge of the virus and it’s components still remained locked away in the minds of the men who had created it.

  All of these great minds still sat on planes approaching the island, and with Governments now taking aggressive stances with any planes trying to land in their countries, Biocorp didn’t have to worry. The plane James Faulkner flew on had just been warned for the second and last time to turn back by the two Chinese MIG fighter planes on its tail. Accepting a gin and tonic from the flight attendant James gave the drink a stir and a big healthy sip, and as the drink ran down the inside of his throat, the missiles from the MIG’s struck the fuselage and ignited the fuel, turning the plane and is passengers into a giant fireball across the sky.

  Happy that everything was going as it should be, Jim Douglas closed up the reports that he had been viewing and retired to his lounge, he stopped only to make himself a scotch on the rocks from the decanter which sat under the bank of CCTV screens showing different views from all around the island. He was so busy adding the cubes of ice to his drink that he didn’t see the three figures dressed head to toe in black making their way towards the mansion. The cubes of ice rattled against the glass as he walked to the lounge. When the glass was placed on the table next to the sofa the cubes finally settled and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the expansive room Jim now sat in.

  He turned on the television and then the DVD player he had decided tonight he would finish watching his favourite film before heading to bed. After a short while and two large mouthfuls of the warming scotch Jim had fallen asleep, he wouldn’t be disturbed by the handful of house staff that he employed. Despite spending the last few hours reading about the demise of the human race, Jim had no problem falling into a deep sleep, his conscious had over the years learnt to accept the man’s decisions. For some time he had slept well, even daring to dream during some points of it.

  Jim was awoken by the beeping of the security console on his desk. Someone had broken into the house. He sat upright, but was still half asleep, and waited for his mind to return to normal, it would only be a false alarm, and had probably been set off by one of his staff. Nevertheless he had to check, what was the point of installing state of the art security if you were to do nothing with it Jim thought? As he climbed off of the couch he went over to the writing bureau, where he kept one of his pistols. Before he could open the door he was told to freeze, and then turn. On turning Jim had been shocked to see three men completely dressed head to toe in black, one stood in front of the other two who held fully automatic assault rifles pointed at him. Looking at the men, the only features he could see were their eyes, and worryingly Jim had the feeling that he knew the eyes of the man who stood at the front, who was now brandishing a pistol at him, with the silencer already screwed on.

  “Whatever you are being paid? I will double it.” Pleaded Jim.

  The front man laughed before pulling the trigger of the pistol. The bullet left the gun and continued its trajectory through Jims left kneecap, forcing him to fall to the floor.

  “I will treble it, name your price.” Jim screamed.

  The trigger was pulled yet again, and this time it was aimed at Jim’s right kneecap. The bullet struck its target and got lodged in his leg.

  “What is it that you want?” Jim asked as he cried from the pain now plaguing him.

  The man fired twice more, one shot at each elbow, and after the second bullet found its mark Jim Douglas was paralysed on the floor in pain. He lay looking in total disbelief, as the man removed his balaclava.

  “It’s not about how much money we want Jim, i
t’s about retribution for what you have done to this world of ours.” Stated the President of the United States of America before he used two more bullets to take out Jims shoulders. After serving seven years in the first Gulf war the President was still capable of firing a weapon with pinpoint accuracy.

  Jim watched helplessly, unable to move from his wounds as the two other men approached from the rear carrying a box. They placed the box on the floor whilst they turned him from his side and onto his back. Jim now looked down and over his chin fearing what was in the box down at the bottom of his legs. Each man unlocked a hinge on the end of the lid and then slowly tipped the box from the safety of its side towards Jim.

  A small Hessian sack fell out of the box, but the sack moved there was something inside of it. The edge of the bag opened up as the small child crawled towards the fallen man, although not a new-born the baby it had only just grown its first tooth which was visible through its open mouth as it snarled like a feral animal. The baby awkwardly crawled up Jim’s leg and moved across his chest as it looked for exposed skin to sink its solitary tooth into. Jim couldn’t take his eyes away from the child, its jet black emotionless eyes bore into him.

  “I’m leaving you a little present from the USA Jim. This is what is left of my only child Joshua. You’ve taken the world from me and now Joshua will take it from you.” The President stated before turning, and headed out of the room.

  The other two men followed the President from the room, and the screams from the fallen CEO became more and more frantic as the zombie baby had now reached his face. The zombies face was now level with Jims, it gave out a little gargled snarl as it snapped its head down, and its single tooth punctured the man’s cheek. The tooth wasn’t yet large enough to do anything more than break the skin, and deliver a tiny dose of the virus into the trapped CEO. The baby lifted its head and then bit down again as Jim Douglas continued to scream and beg for mercy.