Day Zed - Box Set: Volumes I and II

by Charles Smith

  Since the demise of the town, many of the zombies had migrated into the forest, some had even managed to traverse the myriad of valleys and found themselves in the same remote area as Hans. The zombies fed upon anything living that they were lucky enough to stumble upon, some wildlife escaped after being bitten, only to then die and infect other species that they in turn came across.

  With the natural food resources in the area falling Hans had been rationing what little he had left. He battled with fatigue every day with his body protesting at the lack of nourishment he was receiving, and that for the past few days he had spent mostly sleeping, conserving what little energy he had. For years he had always made camp under the same waterfall that he now looked out from, waiting for the source of the snapping twig to show itself.

  The zombie stumbled into view seconds after Hans heard it’s tell tall moan. It shuffled across the ground, twice falling over as its weak feet found obstacles, growing from the ground. Whenever one fell over it seemed to take them an eternity for them to stand back up, their movements were so awkward that some even made walking look like a near impossible task.

  There was now barely enough light left for Hans to watch the creature, and with forty metres between him and the zombie, he was certain it wouldn’t be able to see him through the water falling in front of him. The cadaver stopped as it reached the edge of the small lagoon, with the water around two metres in depth Hans hoped it would stop the creatures approach. He smiled to himself, as he watched the thing. Somehow instinctively it seemed to know it wasn’t able to cross the water, it just stared down blankly at the rippling surface.

  A sudden rustling of bushes gained both Hans’s and the zombies’ attention. It was too small to see what, but an injured animal limped out of the undergrowth and it was soon followed by two more of the undead. Even though the animal was injured, instinct drove it forward, its primal thoughts urged it to escape and survive. The animal began making its slow deliberate way towards the path that led to behind the lagoon, as it reached the entrance to the narrow pathway Hans could see that it was a rabbit.

  Hans stayed crouched, praying that the animal would stop then change its course, but it didn’t. The sanctuary it now sought was under the waterfall, somehow the rabbit knew it would be safe. As Hans looked behind the injured animal, he was alarmed to see that the three zombies came after it. What made the situation worse was a couple more had now stumbled into the clearing and stood at the lagoons edge; Hans was trapped.

  Looking around at the small confined space he was in, he didn’t rate his chances at escaping a brawl with the cadavers unscathed. He instead chose to put on his backpack, before leaping straight through the centre of the water, as it cascaded from the stream above. On seeing the sight of a man leaping through the water the zombies instantly forgot about the rabbit they had been chasing, and it limped safely under the waterfall, unnoticed. The rabbit stood on its back haunches, expecting the zombies to chase it once more, but they didn’t. Ironically as it relaxed, it began to lick at the scrape on its back leg, it had escaped, and it was safe.

  Hans swum several strokes under water until he felt he was in the centre of the Lagoon. Emerging to the surface, gasping for air he looked frantically around him, into the fading daylight. Hans wanted to know exactly where each of the zombies were, he turned to see the three that had chased the rabbit, down the narrow pathway. They now teetered by the edge of the lagoon, deciding whether to chase the man in, whilst the other two still pondered the wet surface holding them back from the front. It was nerve racking, waiting for them to make a move, and all the same time listen to them snapping their jaws open and shut at the air in front of them. He watched in dismay as the two at the front of the lagoon decided to enter, their movement was almost comical as inch by inch their bodies were swallowed up by the water. Both completely submerged a full seven metres away from the petrified Hans. The water was deep enough to keep them at the bottom, and as they didn’t resurface, Hans presumed they had drowned.

  When a splash from behind startled him he turned, just in time to see one of the other zombies as it disappeared into the water behind him. By now Hans knew they couldn’t swim, he would just wait it out until the last two decided to enter the water, and then swim out to safety. Despite the time of day the water was still a reasonable temperature, and he knew he could tread water for some time yet. It wasn’t until the zombies had walked across the bed of the lagoon, and by luck bumped into Hans’s moving legs that he realised his mistake; the undead don’t need to breathe, despite their lungs being full of water, they were still animated. In the darkness they had managed to traverse the gap to Hans, unobserved, he struggled with their probing hands, trying to escape their awkward clutches, until he felt pain. One of the zombies latched onto his calf, as he tried to kick away and bit down hard. Its teeth penetrated the soft skin and flesh easily, and it snapped its head back to tear away its prize. Hans struggled and kicked out in vain, as more bites were inflicted upon him from his unseen attackers. Finally, some minutes later Hans’s strength left him, and the zombies pulled him under the surface.

  Monument Station, London, 21st July 21:08 GMT

  The two guards didn’t put up too much resistance to Morgan’s request for them to move forward, and for that Gerard was thankful, there had been too much blood spilt over the last few days for his taste. “Guys, walk in single file behind our friends here?” Morgan instructed the other three as he spotted fresh movement, up behind the guard’s makeshift barrier. He was surprised when the figure behind the metal sheets chose to stand up, and then walk out onto the edge of the platform. His next action confused Morgan even more; he dropped his weapon to the floor, before placing his hands on his head in surrender. “We don’t want any trouble.” The stranger announced as he dropped to his knees. “We don’t want any ourselves, we just want safe passage.” Morgan called out as he approached. The Bald One decided to grunt some sort of a protest, which was instantly quashed by the silencer of Jackson’s rifle pressing into the back of his neck.

  They walked the rest of the short distance out of the tunnel, Morgan picked up the discarded weapon, removed its ammo clip, and then passed it to Sam, so that his own was free. He then crouched down to look at the kneeling man in the face. “Who is in charge here?” Morgan asked him. “Oh that would be me. I’m Phillip Marshall.” The kneeling man informed the soldier. Morgan was quick to notice that the answer appeared to be free of any malice or hatred. A quick scan around of the platform, left Morgan with no immediate concerns, as apart from them the platform was empty. The soldier gestured over to the platforms edge, with a wave of his rifle, “We can talk over there.” He said to Phillip, if that was really his name? “Whatever you say, you’re the boss.” Phillip replied, before slowly standing and then walking over to where Morgan had gestured.

  Phillip waited for Morgan to motion for him to sit down, and willingly complied when the soldier told him, “Go on sit down underneath the lantern.” Morgan then nodded towards Jackson, to untie the bound hands of the guards. “You two over there as well.” He said whilst flicking the barrel of his rifle in Phillip’s direction. The Bald One rubbed at his wrists, where the cable tie had left a mark, embedded in his skin. He scowled at Morgan, as he walked past him. “Did you have to tie it so fucking tight?” He angrily asked the soldier. Morgan shot him an agitated glance. Phillip broke the uneasy silence between the two men, “Steve for once in your life, just shut the fuck up.” Phillip barked at his guard, Steve immediately, but begrudgingly backed down.

  “There really is no need for any violence.” Phillip stated to Morgan, and the rest of the group, before adding, “We really are a peaceful group.” Moran didn’t soften his tough posture, “As I’ve already explained to Steve and his friend here. We had the unenviable pleasure of meeting your peaceful men at Tower Hill.” Phillip simply nodded in acceptance of what Morgan had told him, showing no surprise of the soldier’s accusation. “My name is Paul, and as Steve t
old you we kicked those dirty bastards out.” The red haired one interrupted. “I can confirm their story as being true. The four of them were banished form this facility after they gang raped one of our paying guests.” Phillip was quick to interject. “So you just kicked them out? You didn’t punish them for their crimes?” Gerard curiously asked. “Yes everyone is informed of the rules as they enter, and the consequences of their actions. But, no we don’t believe we have the right to be judge and executioner when someone breaks the rules.” Phillip answered.

  The leader of the Monument Station facility then went on to explain what had happened on the day of the outbreak. Shortly after the incident at London Bridge, which Jackson had fled the transport bosses had closed down all public transport links within the capital. All of the underground network had been shut down, station staff were ordered to close all their barriers, barring both entry and exit from each station. Any drivers and passengers that were stuck on the trains had to make their own way along the tracks, as no one would arrive from the ground above them to help. As it was still relatively early on a Saturday morning the system hadn’t yet been overly busy with commuters.

  Phillip went on to explain how he had been one of the unfortunate passengers marooned on one such train on The Central Line. When the driver had announced that they had to disembark and walk to Bank Station, Phillip along with the other passengers, feared the worst; everyone on the train came to the same conclusion that the underground system was under attack by a terrorist cell. Now thinking back Phillip admitted that he wished that had of been the case, a plague of pandemic proportions was a worse reality, than any explosive device known to man. On reaching the station, they were dismayed to find they couldn’t leave, all the exits had been locked, and the staff had insisted it was for their own safety. Within a couple of hours the small band of people had ceased protesting, when all hell broke loose outside on the streets. With the entire station based underground, none of them were able to see what was happening, they instead had to rely upon what they could hear, and that alone chilled them to the bone.

  At first people had tried to flee by road and on foot. As Phillip and the other stranded passengers stood with their ears pressed to the concertina gate, a crescendo of sound had fed down to them. They heard the steady footfall of many feet, most of the people spoke as they walked past the locked entrance. The noise was very quickly drowned out by an overwhelming number of car horns being sounded, as traffic came to a complete standstill. The once calm voices from above had then changed, their voices sounded panicked and desperate. At some point the pedestrians must have stopped, as many had leapt the locked gate, only to find that the concertina gate at the bottom of the stairs was locked, preventing them from moving any further. Those at the front had begged to be allowed in, and the station staff had refused, they had no choice; to open the gate would have caused a stampede, and they would have never have been able to close the gate back up.

  The number of desperate had grown quite rapidly, and they had continued to plead for admittance, and still it was denied to them. Several of them had lost their patience, and anger boiled over. They had begun to rock at the gate, venting their rage at the station staff. If they had been afforded the space to attack the gate properly, they would have broken it down. There had been just too many off them trapped by the crowds above to gain any true leverage on the ancient barrier. A scream from above them had instantly stopped them in their pursuit of a forced entry, it told them that they were out of time. A sudden rush of bodies that had clambered over the rails and into the already jam-packed stairwell meant that the people at the front, by the locked gate were crushed to death, and those alive, still hemmed in on the stairs, had continued to push.

  The small group of twenty two passengers had to endure hours of the screams and cries of people suffering the pain of being eaten alive. What troubled them the most was how the moaning of the undead steadily grew, as more and more had become infected, until its collective noise drowned out that of the living. When the poor souls trapped on the stairs began to be bitten through the railings on the street, everyone on the concourse moved away from the entrance, knowing that soon all of them would be dead, they didn’t want to watch the last of the living suffer and moved down to the platform below, hoping that the screams would soon stop.

  Over the next couple of days the horde of undead above them had moved on, leaving the streets above them filled with scenes of death. A military broadcast on the radio had informed them that the only way to stop the undead was by way of serious head trauma. Phillip and the others had spent most of their first day trapped beneath the streets thrusting wickedly pointed mop handles through the gaps in the gate, to slowly clear the undead that were trapped on the stairwell. When they were done, no one wanted to venture outside, as they all stood staring at the once white ceramic tiles that lined the stairwell; they had been drenched in blood, it was everywhere. They had all been as surprised as each other when after two days survivors started to descend the stairwell, seeking shelter. Everyone locked inside the station had been hungry and thirsty, and when the barred survivors had offered them food and water the staff had to concede and let them in. As more and more of those survivors had arrived at the gate the bartering process continued; only the price of admission grew steeper. Some had arrived seeking sanctuary with no goods to barter, they were turned away, and invariably arguments had broken out. The staff and original survivors were adamant in their defence; why should they allow people in who would become a burden on the others? If food was scarce, why add more mouths to feed, unless they were bringing food to the table?

  A week passed, and there were over two hundred refugees living in the station. Guards were constantly posted on all of the exits from the station, where they were responsible for protecting the barriers. Some of the more astute survivors had begun to set up trading posts, trading in whatever was now deemed valuable in this new world. One individual went as far as setting up a brothel, whilst another had begun to construct his own distillery for trading moonshine. When the station had begun to get too congested, Phillip volunteered to move onto Monument, with a group and set up another trading post just a few days ago. The four men who had been sent to Tower Hill had abused their guard positions, at one of the many Bank gates, and were subsequently banished from the station. Phillip had escorted the men himself, to ensure they didn’t come back, and they were given a chance of life when many would have killed them.

  The rules that were now set in place were simple. Admission to a station required a payment, and even then the refugee would need to provide proof that they had enough provisions to look after themselves. Once they had ran out of supplies, and could were longer able to trade, they had to find a way of earning more or leave the station to replenish their supplies. Phillip was openly excited when he finished bringing Morgan and the others up to date. He informed them that tomorrow would see the very station they were now in being opened up to survivors. “So this place isn’t a safe haven, it’s a business?” Morgan was quick with his accusation. “Not a business no. It is all about survival.” Phillip defended his group’s actions. “What about the people you have to eject?” The station leader laughed at Morgan’s question, “If they find supplies, they are welcomed back in.” “How many make it back?” “Not that many unfortunately.” “So you agree with a woman selling herself for food?” Gerard now asked Phillip, he was clearly offended. “Personally no I don’t, but if she prefers to do that, rather than go back outside, it is the individual’s choice. It is after all the oldest profession in the world, women have been doing it for centuries.” Phillip told the engineer with a grin on his face.

  Silence befell the group of men, Morgan wasn’t surprised when Gerard decided to challenge Phillip’s previous reply, “So have you been outside searching for supplies, or selling your body?” Despite Gerard’s level of sarcasm, Phillip didn’t react, he calmly answered the question, choosing not to rise to Gerard’s bait, “I’ve guar
ded the gates since we started letting people in to earn my keep.” “Do you give that chance to everyone then?” “Of course we do, that or clearing tunnels, or patrolling the living areas. Believe it or not some people just don’t want to do it, ejection is a last resort.”

  Morgan raised his hand above his head, he had heard enough, and he didn’t want Gerard to stir things any further with Phillip, not whilst things were still peaceful. “Let’s talk business then Phillip.” Morgan said to the leader. “Before I can do that, I will need your names please?” “Why is that important?” Morgan asked, not sure of Phillip’s motives. “Because regardless of what you think, we are still civil.” Morgan held his hand out, “I’m Morgan and the young guy with the swollen eye is Sam. The model over there is Jackson, and you’ve just been chatting with Gerard. Now can we talk?” “Yes Morgan we can.” Phillip replied as he shook Morgan’s hand. “We have another party of seven, waiting for us at the end of the tunnel. To compensate you for your troubles, we have brought a trolley, loaded with supplies.” Phillip raised his eyebrows, “What kind of supplies?” “Guns, ammunition, food, water, first aid supplies, batteries, night vision goggles and much more.”

  Morgan watched the station leader as the smile spread across his face, as well as the two guards that sat next to him. “Welcome to Monument Station.” Phillip said before patting the soldier on the back. Morgan reached for his radio, “Come on up Kathy, its safe. Leave the trolleys were they are.” He said whilst holding down the broadcast button. “We’re on our way Jay.” Soon hissed back in reply.

  Monument Station, London, 22nd July, 8:00 GMT

  True to his word Phillip had left the group to get rest during the evening and for the most part of it, had left them alone. For a while most of them had watched Phillip and his men, as they had examined the contents of the two trolleys. The grown men had become more and more excited at every new item they picked up and studied. Shanice had found the whole scene highly amusing, and told the rest of the group, “That is exactly how I used to behave at Christmas.” Eventually, one by one, the group had slowly given up watching the other men and had taken the opportunity to get some rest. Kathy and Morgan had still taken first watch, even though they were safe from any zombie attack, they had wanted to keep an eye on their new hosts. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened during their six hour watch, Phillip had walked past a couple of times and nodded, but that was all. Both of them were relieved when Penny and Jackson relieved them.