Looking out at the nearly bare trees in his orchard, Pedro knew that they were all in trouble. As their saviour, he had been tasked in finding a solution to their food shortage. It was a task he didn’t want, one that he couldn’t come up with a viable solution to. To the camp manager they all had just two choices: stay and starve, or attempt to leave and from what Pedro could see that meant certain death as well. Out of desperation and not knowing what way to turn he had called an emergency meeting early this morning, gathering all of the survivors together inside the empty min market. With barely enough fruit left on the trees to last the day they would have to act, and would have to do it now. As he walked into the mini market, he noticed that they all sat expectantly, as if he had come up with the master solution to their problem, he wasted no time he had to be honest and he told them the truth. Perusing the crowd of faces he saw a mixture of expressions: desperation, hopelessness, abandonment and fear. They didn’t fear what waited for them outside, they had got used to the moaning and the stink that the undead brought with them; what they feared wasn’t inside the camp anymore, and that was a chance of survival.
“So what do we do now Pedro?” One of the German guest asked. “How will we survive?” Came from one of the Swedes’. “What will we eat?” An English woman spoke out. Pedro just shook his head, in resignation all he could do was hang his head as he told them, “I don’t know.” The voices inside the room rose in intensity, until the sound reached a crescendo that no one could be heard over.
“I have idea.” Suddenly boomed across the sea of frustrated noise. The voices owner was a Hungarian man, Pedro knew as Gustavo. He had been on site since Pedro arrived and had never left, no one knew exactly how long the eccentric recluse had lived there for. Many of the camps younger visitors revelled in ridiculing the old man and his funny ways. “Let him speak?” Pedro implored at the top of his voice to the agitated crowd. One by one the protesters fell silent, eventually allowing Gustavo to speak. The Hungarian stood up from the back of the room, it was clearly visible to Pedro how nervous the man was. “We need to eat. We have no more food, so we must make some.” Laughter rung out from sections of the gathered crowd, one of the ridiculers tried to stir up the audience, “How do we make food?” “For many year, I not buy meat. I pick up dead animal that killed on road, and bring back home to cook. The cooking kill all germs, it is very safe to eat.” “Gustavo, we don’t have any animals to cook?” Pedro reminded the nervous recluse. “Yes we do, we have thousands outside the gate.” “You mean cook a zombie?” A voice incredulously asked from the crowd. “Yes that what I think. If you worry of germs. I cook and I eat first. If I not get sick, then you can all try.”
The crowd’s volume once gain grew in intensity, it was hard for Pedro to gauge how the majority felt about Gustavo’s plan. He could clearly see some agreeing, and just as many disagreeing with the idea. Most of them stayed silent, they were either too shocked or waiting for others to decide for them, and seemed happy for the discussions to carry on around them. One of the audience felt brave enough to ask Gustavo the question that many secretly wondered about, “Where do we get one from then?” The old man just smiled at his inquisitor, “We catch one and pull them over wall.” To Pedro’s amazement a plan was hatched and Gustavo hurried off to his run down home to retrieve something; he wanted to act straightaway, before the crowd changed its mind.
The camp site manager didn’t want to venture outside with Gustavo’s supporters, but couldn’t help himself from watching the spectacle unfolding before them. He couldn’t believe it when four of the survivors agreed to help the old recluse ensnare one of the cadavers. If they did manage to pull one of those things over the wall, he wanted to make sure that it was dealt with properly, and that’s its arrival didn’t endanger the camp. The last thing they needed was one of those viscous zombies stumbling around the camp, infecting others. Pedro made sure that he was standing far enough back from the wall, just in case things did go wrong.
Pedro watched in awe as the group dragged tables and chairs into the area to hastily build a ramshackle platform ready for Gustavo’s arrival. It came as no surprise when he appeared carrying some sort of weapon; it was a long wooden pole with and evil looking hook attached to its end. The man spent every second of the day trawling the roads and overgrown dumping grounds, collecting scrap and belongings that its owners no longer had a use for. He sometimes got lucky and found something of value that he sold on to guests passing through, so that he could make ends meet; to Pedro’s knowledge Gustavo had never done a days’ work since he had lived on site. Somehow defying gravity, he managed to climb up the ramp, and gingerly move onto a platform that was supported by the wall.
Gustavo started to bark orders at his four helpers and seemed to be revelling in his fifteen minutes of fame. “You listen, I bring zombie up and hold. You have to bang on head hard to kill, do you understand?” Gustavo said as he pointed to the large rock on the floor next to the volunteers. He launched the long pole over the wall and began to poke at the nearest of zombies. Pedro watched as he thrust down and then began to pull upwards. After a few hard tugs the resistance Gustavo had been fighting against, gave way and he toppled backwards onto the floor behind him, along with the pole he still held. The four helpers began to laugh, when they noticed the severed zombies head still attached to the end of the wooden pole. With his vantage point being too far away Pedro walked to the front of camp, he wanted to see what was amusing the four young men.
On reaching the front of the area Pedro felt repulsion at the head that still worked despite there being no body attached to it. This one had been a man not so long ago, he could tell by its short hair and stubbly chin. He couldn’t help but stare into the thing’s jet black soulless eyes; they were devoid of any emotion and held nothing but evil, to the manager they reminded him of a great white sharks eyes. The zombies jaw still snapped and snarled at the four men who were prodding at it with sticks laughing. They protested venomously when Pedro stepped out from behind them and brought the rock down on top of its head, with all his might, putting an end to their wicked fun.
Gustavo seemed unperturbed by his previous effort, he stood back up and dusted himself off before snatching the pole back up from the ground and began climbing up to his platform again. Having learned from his first mistake he wasn’t as forceful and aimed at a zombie’s midriff. Within seconds he began to roar with success as he lifted an entire zombie over the wall. One of the volunteers immediately smashed in its head with a rock, and was the first to offer Gustavo a pat on the back, as the old man set about the grizzly task of cutting the body up. It didn’t take long for the chunks of meat to be placed into a giant pot, which was placed over a campfire, ready to cook the germs out of the prized catch.
True to his word Gustavo took a bowl of the zombie broth after it had been boiling for an hour. The whole camp watched as he wolfed down the liquid and took his time consuming the chunks of meat within it, some noticeably winced when they saw larger pieces of meat sitting in his spoon. After eating the bowls contents, he played to the crowd watching him and took a second bowl. When that too had been finished he held the empty bowl upside down and triumphantly announced, “It’s good, it taste just like chicken.” He couldn’t help but smile when he received a round of applause and cheers. Gustavo then sat down next to Pedro and waited, he knew that the other survivors wanted to wait to see if the virus affected him, before they themselves delved into the broth.
They waited for two hours and were amazed that Gustavo showed no signs of contracting Day Zed. With everyone hungry and now content that it was safe to eat there was nearly a stampede to get at the bubbling broth. Many went up for seconds, surprised at how good the broth tasted, and relieved that they wouldn’t ever have to venture outside to forage for food. It took just over half an hour for the broth to run out, and as the last spoonful of it was being eaten, Pedro noticed several of the survivors were showing fevers. He watched in dismay as more and more g
rew sick by the minute, one guest came up to Gustavo telling him that he could feel the virus pumping around his veins, he was irate, but too weak to vent his anger, “Why isn’t he infected?”. The man asked pointing accusingly at the Hungarian. Pedro could tell that the only healthy guests like himself hadn’t eaten the broth, they just couldn’t bring themselves to do it, everyone else apart from Gustavo was ill. “What? I not understand. I eat soup and I am good.” Gustavo tried to defend himself to the site manager. Pedro shook his head, “No Gustavo, you’re immune, you must be.” Pedro told him and then looked back to the countless sick in front of him, just waiting for the horror to unfold.
Chatsworth Bunker, London, 21st July, 12:19 GMT
The group at Chatsworth had been buy since early that morning. Morgan had woken shortly after seven, and enlisted the help of Aoife and Penny to help him restock their weapon supplies. Before falling asleep together last night he and Kathy had devised a plan to integrate the three new members into the group as quick as possible. Rather than allow the three of them to stay isolated together in their own group, they decided to split them up into three separate groups, and to place them with people that would encourage them to socialise and come out of their shells. Aoife had been paired with Morgan, purely for the fact that he had been the one that saved her from Ron, and Penny has she had also lost a partner.
When Morgan approached Aoife in her bunk, she had already been awake. She explained that flashbacks of her ordeal often plagued her dreams and prevented her from finding enough inner peace to sleep soundly through the night. He had been surprised at how quickly she accepted his invite for help. “You’ve saved me twice. It’s the least I can do, plus it helps to keep busy.” She had told him and even attempted to smile. They had then woken Penny, before heading down to munitions area.
Penny seemed to have come to terms with her grief over Dave, and had been much more talkative in the morning. She had jumped at the challenge of helping Aoife with her own grief, and at the same time it had been just the tonic she needed to help repair her own physiological wounds, as the two women opened up to one another. Morgan had gone about the task of making two stockpiles of weapons and ammunition. Once they had been sorted out the two piles would be divided onto the two metal carts the trio had brought with them from the cleaning supplies room. The young Irish girl looked up to Penny like a mother figure, she had taken in everything the nurse told her, and at the same time respected it.
Penny had willingly poured her heart out, it was as if she found it easier to talk to a stranger, rather than one of the group, she had already forged bonds with. She had surprised herself by delving as far back as just before the virus had been unleashed; how after falling so madly in love with Simon and planning the wedding, she had developed doubts of the feelings she actually had for him. She had continued then with the story of how she had come home that fateful night, and how she had fled the home they had shared together. The hardest part of her life story had involved Dave; he had been there for her when she needed comforting, and more importantly he had helped her feel normal again, in this new chaotic world. Even Morgan was shocked to hear her explaining to Aoife that she hadn’t any feelings for Dave, it had been a simple case of lust and a desire to feel wanted. She felt loss and grief over his death, but no more than that of what she felt for the loss of Daryl and Scott.
The young Irish girl had listened intently, and she had waited patiently until Penny had finished pouring her heart out, before she even attempted to do the same. As the girl was quite short and possessed very young facial features, Morgan had still struggled to accept that she was seventeen. He had watched her as she repeatedly flicked at her mousey coloured bob hair style, seemingly nervous of telling her own story. She and Taigh had been together for just a few months, after meeting at a party. Aoife couldn’t believe her luck at the time, when he had just approached her out of the blue, she had always been considered by her friends as a geek, whilst he was the most popular boy at their college.
It had been Taigh’s idea to come to London; his cousin had been living there, whilst studying at university and told him of the night life and parties that were to be had on a regular basis. On only their second night of being in the capital she had witnessed a side to her boyfriend she hadn’t cared for. Being away from her home and friends and family, she had allowed him coerce her into a three-some with another girl. She hadn’t enjoyed the experience, and when she had complained after the event, Taigh had promised that it had just been a once off, and would never happen again. He had managed to keep his word, until they found themselves in the bunker. One night after a copious amount of alcohol Taigh had begged her to join Natasha and Nicole in bed, she was unable to refuse his demands, she couldn’t bear the thought of him ending the relationship and leaving her on her own, so she had reluctantly agreed. She had gone on to explain how Lexi had walked in on them all, when they were in the middle of the act, and that was when things went wrong, when Ron and the others started dishing out beatings, and raping the women. By the time Taigh had been murdered by Ron, she had hated him; he was the reason she was suffering, and he was the reason Ron and the others had snapped.
A second group of the survivors had been tasked with collecting supplies that would replenish their packs ready for their journey to Battersea. They had gathered rations for each rucksack that the group would take with them. The group had also loaded all of the wares onto the metal trolley; identical to the ones used in the munitions area. The trolley was loaded with: a variety of tinned goods, water, first-aid, medicines and batteries. Kathy had made a list of the items, and how much would be contained in each pack, only one pack was lighter than the others, and that was Shanice’s. Each bag had to hold enough rations to last a survivor a week, just in case they became trapped and isolated somewhere.
After filling the bags with all of the listed rations the group moved on to the munitions area where they began to refill their stock of walkie-talkies, night vision goggles and torches. Kathy had decided that she would bring Sam along with Shanice and Jin-Lee, theorising that anyone could bring the young man out of his beaten shell, there was no one better for the task than Shanice. Sam had hardly said anything whilst they had collected the food, both Kathy and Jin-Lee had attempted to converse with him on numerous occasions, only to have each attempt rebuffed.
When Shanice had finally plucked up the courage to tackle Sam, she went about it in her usual comical way, “Excuse me Sam, do you think you could help me please?” She had asked him as he stood on his own staring into space. “Sorry Hun, I’m busy.” “You don’t look very busy to me.” Sam already realised he was about to lose the argument, and tried in vain to back himself out of the corner. “I’m busy thinking.” Shanice let out a snort of defiance, to let him know that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Well you can think later, my Daddy always tells me that many hands make light work, when I tell him that I’m busy.” “Okay, okay I get the message.” He surrendered to the little girl’s persistence. “What help are you after?” “Kathy asked me to test all the walkie-talkies, so I need you to go down the hallway and help me test that they all work.” “Okay I can do that no problem.” He had agreed.
Shanice had sent Sam to the other end of the compound on purpose, she knew that no one would be in that section and didn’t want Sam to be disturbed whilst he was talking to her. He had begrudgingly walked off, still not sure why Shanice was making him go so far. Shanice had waited a full ten minutes for Sam to make his way to the area she had ordered him to go to, and dead on the ten minute mark, Shanice hit the broadcast button. “Testing one, two and three. Shanice to Sam over.” There had been no immediate response, and the two women found it highly amusing watching Shanice’s display of impatience as she kicked at the floor. “Sam if you hear me, hold the talk button down and reply, over.” She grinned as her radio crackled as Sam answered. “It works Shanice.” “No Sam that isn’t how we talk on the radios. You have to end your broadcast with
over, over.” “Sorry it works over.” Shanice had giggled, and then put the next part of her plan into action. “Okay I’ll swap now and test the next one over.”
Reaching behind her, she had picked up the next hand set and begun her routine all over again. “Do you read me Sam? Over.” “Yes Shanice, working over.” “Can you tell me why you’re so sad? Over.” Kathy had shook her head at the girl’s blatant attempt to get Sam to tell his side of the story. She wasn’t surprised Sam hadn’t answered. When the radio had spat back into life, Kathy was surprised. “A lot has happened the last few days Shanice. I don’t think you’re old enough to understand.” Had been Sam’s reply. “I think I know enough of what happened Sam, and I am really sorry. By the way you forgot to say over, over.” “You’re a sweet little girl Shanice. I would love to possess the same innocence as you, over.” Shanice had taken the opportunity to pull one of her confused faces. “Innocence Sam? Why that’s all gone. The virus has taken that away from all of us.” “But, I would have thought that the others protected you from all of the horrors?” “How can they Sam? In the last three days I have seen two of my friends shot, and another has sacrificed himself to save the rest of us. Then when we come here, we had to save you and your friends. I think there is enough horror there for an eleven year old. Over” Sam paused as he pondered what Shanice had said, she was right, at her age she had seen more than he had. If she could hold it together after everything she had been through, he had to snap out of his own horrors and get on with life.
None of them had heard Sam walk back to meet them at the munitions room. When he popped his head around the corner of the open doorway, he had made them jump when he had said, “Okay Shanice, you have me beaten. Over.” It had been the first time that any of them had seen the teenager smile, since his rescue. Shanice turned the smile into laughter, when she replied, “As Jackson say’s shit happens.” She then added, “Please don’t tell Daddy I said that?” As the others continued to laugh, Shanice broke into a fit of giggles.
Day Zed - Box Set: Volumes I and II Page 24