“Thank you. How are you coping with the infected?” John asked.
“Well, I have no wife and my children have flown the nest, so I decided to stay in the shop for the time being. A gun shop is built to be very secure, so I’m just going to wait it out until the government get things under control.”
“Good thinking. Perhaps we’ll see you again. ’Bye,” said John.
I also said goodbye, and John and I left the shop with our purchases in hand.
We had just closed the shop door behind us when we saw Mary and Josephine waving at us frantically and pointing down the road towards the other shops. We could not see what they were pointing at until we had passed the four-wheel-drive in the car park.
“Oh shit!” said John to no one in particular.
Forty-plus infected were coming towards us from the direction of the local shops.
John and I ran for the truck, passing our purchases to Mary, who was sitting in the back with Josephine. John quickly jumped into the driving seat and by the time I had run round the front of the truck and got into the front passenger seat he had started the engine.
The infected were blocking the whole road 50 yards in front of us and were coming towards us. There was no way we could go forward, so John rapidly reversed back to the main road and then drove ahead, covering the half-mile to our close in less than a minute, and we were soon parked outside our house. John opened the back of the truck, while I opened the front door of the house carrying a few of our gun-shop purchases, and dumped them on the sofa. I then returned to the rear seats to collect the rest of our purchases from the gun shop, while John and the ladies were depositing the Sainsbury’s supplies from the back of the truck all over the kitchen floor. Once I had put the rest of our gun-shop purchases on the sofa, I turned to John.
“I’m going to see Miles and Alf about blocking the close,” I said.
“OK, Dad. I’ll help bring in the rest of the shopping and then park the truck at the side of the house.”
I started to cross the road heading for Miles’s house and saw Maria at the kitchen window. I waved and she disappeared into the living room, no doubt to get Miles, and as I approached Miles opened the front door.
“How did your trip go, James?”
“It was a complete nightmare. I’ll tell you about it later, but there may be some infected coming this way, so I think we should block the close off now. Where did the body from yesterday go to?”
“I’ll just check the taxi over,” said Miles. “The body is in number twenty-nine’s garage. Err, you may not have noticed, but Alf has moved his van back to its usual position.”
“I didn’t – I’ll have a word with him now,” I said.
Miles went back inside his house to collect the keys to his taxi while I started to walk across the road to number 43, Alf’s house. I rang the doorbell, and while I was waiting for them to open the door, I noticed Mary taking in the last of our supplies and John parking the truck at the side of our house. Miles had just opened the door to his taxi and appeared to be looking for something inside, when Alf and his wife Jacky appeared at the door, holding a long-handled trowel.
“Hello Alf, Jacky. This may be a good time for you to move your truck back into position, as there could be a number of infected heading our way,” I said.
Alf started to rummage around in his trouser pockets, finally producing his van keys.
“How did your trip to Sainsbury’s go?” he asked.
“Not very well, Alf. I’ll tell you about it later,” I said, starting to head back down their narrow path to the road.
“Did you get any shopping?” asked Jacky.
“Yes, we did – but not everything. Let’s just say we were interrupted. Oh yes, there was one plus – we didn’t have to pay for anything!”
“You didn’t?” exclaimed Jacky, with a look of surprise.
“Oh, I’ve been doing some weeding in the garden,” Jacky continued, noticing that I was interested in her trowel.
Alf had just started his van and began to move it into position. Jacky followed me to the middle of the road, her curiosity getting the better of her as she did not know why our shopping had been free.
Miles had finished checking his taxi and I noticed John entering our front door with a shotgun in one hand and Ruger in the other. Alf had started to reverse his van out of the close so he could manoeuvre it into position. I then realised I didn’t have the keys to our Micra, which was still parked next to the taxi. I turned to Jacky and said “No car keys,” tapping my pockets at the same time. “I’ll just go and get them.”
“See you in a minute,” Jacky responded.
I headed back towards the house, walking quickly. I went directly to the kitchen, passing John, who was in the living room examining our purchases from the gun shop. Mary and Josephine were putting the last of our supplies away.
“Have you seen the Micra’s keys?” I asked Mary. She had a really nasty habit of tidying up – so well that you could never find anything you wanted afterwards.
“Yes, they’re here,” she said, opening a cupboard over the kitchen worktop and producing the keys. I would have been searching for at least half an hour if she had not been on hand.
“Can we not just leave them on the kitchen worktop, as usual?” I said.
“I thought it would be a good idea to have a tidy-up as Josephine and I were trying to find places to store all the extra shopping. That reminds me, we didn’t get any batteries.”
“Yes, we did,” I said, as I emptied the contents of my pockets onto the kitchen table. “There you go.”
We heard someone cry out “Ouch!” – or it may have an “Ahh!” – followed by a scream, appearing to come from the top of the close. Walking back into the living room, I looked at John and said “Grab your gun,” at the same time reaching for the shotgun.
John was out through the front door first, with me in hot pursuit. As we reached the top of the close, we could see Alf being attacked by some infected and Jacky had gone to his aid, hitting the first infected she came across with her trowel. She proceeded to set about one of the infected attacking Alf, but unfortunately her assault on the first had had very little effect and he jumped on her back, biting her in the neck. Jacky fell to the ground screaming in sheer panic, and blood started to pour from her wound, turning her white t-shirt red. Alf was also in a sorry state, with blood all over his clothes.
At first John and I could not shoot the infected because we would also have hit Alf and Jacky, but now they were infected too it didn’t matter anymore. Furthermore, it looked like the infected had finished with our neighbours, and were turning their attention to us.
From the other side of the road to our right, a man left his house and headed for the infected brandishing a garden shovel.
“Stand back!” I shouted to him, and he froze in his tracks about ten yards from them, waving us on as he noticed our firearms. If he had gone any further he would also have been in our line of fire.
“Save your ammo, John,” I said, firing into the six infected with the 12-bore as they were rising from Alf and Jacky’s writhing bodies, taking out three of them with the first shot and two with the second. The last one, who had jumped on Jacky’s back, was only five yards away when I fired the last shot in the magazine. All eleven .33-calibre lead balls hit him around the nose, causing his head to explode, and he dropped like a stone.
While John and the man holding the shovel were intently watching the action, none of us noticed the next 20 infected appearing from our right. They zeroed in on the man with the shovel, coming from behind him.
“Behind you!” John shouted in warning, and the man turned, only to find himself cut off from his own house. He started to swing the shovel with great effect, knocking one and then another to the ground. John opened fire, picking off the infected as they approached the man, but not
the ones closer to him for fear of shooting this Good Samaritan as well. I was reloading the shotgun in earnest. John had managed to drop five or six infected before the Ruger went click! and he said, “No more ammo”.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed, and then remembered that John had said he only had ten shots left when we were at Sainsbury’s.
“I have an idea – don’t go away,” said John, running back to the house.
At that moment, I began to feel rather lonely. The man was still wheeling his shovel like a madman and some of the infected he had hit lay still in the road while on the pavement others were getting to their feet again. I fired my next three rounds at the infected that were approaching him, dropping three of them. As the others did not seem to be taking any notice of me, I moved forward slightly so I could see around the detached house, making sure no more were coming while I was reloading the shotgun.
The man had reached his front door, but as he tried to enter an infected person jumped on his back, causing him to trip over the front doorstep. He fell into his hallway with the infected still on his back. Four more infected had now reached the doorway, and as he was on the ground I took a chance and fired a shot at the four by his door before they could also jump on him. Two of them went down, but the other two attempted to grab him while he was trying to get to his feet. He managed to get further into his house before he went down again, this time with three infected attached to his back, and he was soon covered in blood and his fight for a normal life was over.
I turned to my right to see if any more infected were approaching, and saw 15 of them crossing the green – and at least another 40 were coming along our road. The remaining infected from the first group had all disappeared into the Good Samaritan’s house, accompanied by muffled screams of panic. I fired two shots as the infected from the green reached the road, hitting a few of them but only one went down; that’s the problem with a shotgun – even though I was aiming at their heads, it was not two-directional over 30 yards.
I started to move backwards while reloading the magazine, and had just put in the third cartridge when my foot caught some object and I started to fall over backwards, finding myself sitting on something soft. It was the infected that had attacked Jacky – with the best part of his head missing. Where is John? I wondered. An infected then appeared from behind the detached house about ten yards away, and I shot him from my sitting position. He staggered and fell to my left with some very large holes in his chest oozing blood. As I got to my feet another two appeared, but I gave them one shot to the head each and they collapsed to the ground.
I started to reload the shotgun, moving backwards through our partly formed barricade. Feeding only one cartridge into the gun, I started groping for another only to realise I had run out of ammo. At that moment, at least ten infected came round the corner, apparently all intent on biting me. I started backing off as quickly as possible as they approached ever closer. The question was: could I get through our side gate before they were all over me? Firing my last shell at the closest infected, I turned and started to run. I then heard the crack, crack, crack! of the Ruger, which seemed to come from above me, and looking up I saw John at the upstairs bedroom window with our Ruger target fitted with telescopic sight and the 110-shot magazine attached. Even though some of the infected would take two shots to drop them, John was thinning them out rapidly. I went through the side gate and bolted it behind me.
“That was exciting, wasn’t it?” said Mary, who was standing at the kitchen door. “Josephine and I were watching from the window.”
I did not know what to say, and walked into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair.
“I think it’s time for another cup of tea,” I said.
I could still hear the crack! of the Ruger as I moved into the living room to sit in a more comfortable armchair.
Josephine and Mary walked into the room, Josephine carrying two cups of tea and handing me one.
“James, a news update will be on at six,” Mary informed me.
I started to drink my tea as John came into the living room.
“There are no more infected left to shoot,” he announced.
“I’ve made you a cup of tea, John,” said Josephine.
“We had a few hairy moments there, John,” I said.
“Yeah – let’s start loading all the magazines up,” he said.
“Yes – and Mary, Josephine, I think it is time for you to learn how to load the shotguns and the Ruger magazines,” I said.
“I’ll make us something to eat first,” said Josephine.
“Good idea – I’ll give you a hand,” offered Mary.
“That worked well, Dad,” said John, as the women disappeared into the kitchen.
John sat in the other armchair, with the Ruger target laid across its arms.
“How many shots did you use?” I asked.
“Just over half the magazine, about sixty rounds. I’ll top this magazine up first – this Ruger is great for picking off the infected.”
John extracted the empty Ruger magazines from his pockets and laid them on the sofa while I went over and took the magazine out of the tactical Ruger, which John had left leaning against the wall. John removed the 110-shot magazine from the Ruger target and started to load it with the CCI mini-mags, while I started loading the ten-shot magazines with the same ammo. As I finished loading, Mary and Josephine walked into the living room, each holding a plate of sandwiches and putting them down on the small coffee table.
“There you go,” said Mary.
John had finished loading the large magazine. We all picked up a sandwich and started to eat in silence, each of us reflecting on the day’s events.
“Time for the six o’clock news,” said Mary, breaking the silence and turning on the television.
Mary’s timing was perfect – the news had just started. Once again, the newsreader went through all the usual warnings. The only major point was that the government was struggling to maintain power supplies and there might be blackouts in some areas. It was also implied that the telephone network and broadband services were also at risk, mainly due to a lack of response to the earlier request for the appropriate personnel to report for work. Reading between the lines, it appeared that things were now a whole lot worse and everybody was on their own. The next broadcast was scheduled for 10.00 pm.
“Right, that’s it ladies – time for a bit of training.”
John showed Josephine how to operate the Ruger 10/22 and load the ten- and 25-shot magazines, and I showed Mary. Once we had finished and were confident the women had the general operation of the Ruger 10/22 correct, we turned our attention to the shotguns. First, we installed the extended magazine tubes on each gun, and then John and I showed the ladies how to load and operate them.
“Now I don’t want to upset anybody,” I said, “but we have two bows and a crossbow upstairs, and the arrows, bolts and other bits are on top of the wall cabinet in the kitchen. Once we run out of ammo, they will be the only weapons we have.”
“The best thing to do, then, is to put them upstairs too,” said John.
“Yes, got it in one,” I replied.
We now had all the .22LR magazines loaded and the shotguns too, apart from loading a bullet or cartridge into the chambers. John took the arrows and bolts upstairs and placed them with the bows, and he and I then checked our handiwork in blocking up the front window and kitchen door and what we had done to block off the stairs if necessary. There was now nothing we could do but wait. I must admit that waiting was not one of my strong points and I could see that John was also getting restless.
“John and I will have a look around the close and try to block it off,” I said to Mary.
“OK, I’ll try to reach our two daughters on the phone again, plus my sisters and brothers,” Mary replied.
John and I went outside to see if we could finally
block off the close, John carrying the tactical Ruger just in case, but it was impossible due to the bodies lying all over the road. We started to examine them, searching for any signs of life, and were saddened to see Alf and Jacky lying amongst them. Miles and Maria appeared at their door, and we walked over to them.
“You had a few hairy moments there, James,” said Miles.
“Yeah, I was saved by my sniper son. The sad thing is we lost Alf and Jacky – they’re lying in the road over there,” I replied, pointing to the top of the close.
“Oh no! How are Josephine and Mary managing?” asked Maria.
“They seem to be coping OK. Why don’t you go over and have a chat, and they can tell you about our trip earlier today?” Maria left us and headed for the front door.
“What trip? You been out somewhere?” asked Miles, looking surprised.
“Yeah, we went to Sainsbury’s,” I said.
“And the Boreham gun shop,” added John.
I told Miles about our adventure, with John’s help filling in with the gorier details every now and again.
“So, there are no staff at Sainsbury’s at all? You just help yourself?” said Miles.
“Yes, you got it,” answered John.
“Miles, we’ll have to see if we can get you a gun of some kind tomorrow, if possible,” I said.
“Shall we have a look along our road to see if there are any normal people left?” suggested John, lifting the Ruger to indicate that we should be alright. John took the lead as Miles and I followed.
“God, what happened to him?” asked Miles, indicating the man I had killed with the shotgun.
“Yeah – don’t get shot at close range by a twelve-bore,” I replied.
As we started to exit the close, we passed Alf and Jacky’s bodies, and Miles was visibly upset as we passed. We had only gone a few steps when he said, “Oh no, that’s Jose, who lives across the road.”
Infected- The Beginning Page 9