Infected- The Beginning

by Perry Stevenson

  The rest of the population had now taken cover in their burrows, so we collected our four kills and walked down the other side of the wood. We had to cross two hedgerows, the first of which proved unproductive but, by the time we reached the second, we were far enough away from where we had shot the earlier rabbits for there to be a chance of others. Moving quietly through the hedge far enough that I could see along the other side, I saw a rabbit sitting with its ears pricked up, easily within shooting distance. Brian was now at my side and, signalling for him to be silent, I took aim and squeezed the trigger for would be number five. Another rabbit bolted from the tall grass in front of us, moving directly away at top speed, and there was a deafening bang next to my ear as the rabbit tumbled over several times under its own momentum. The sound of the shotgun had also disturbed a number of pigeons that had been sitting in the wood. Brian managed to get off a few shots, finally getting one of the birds. We now had six rabbits and the same number of wood pigeon for a feast that night.

  “I think that should do for tonight,” I said.

  “Got to keep some for another day,” replied Brian.

  I walked along the hedgerow to collect my rabbit, while Brian collected his from the edge of the wood, and then we went in search of Brian’s pigeon, which had come down in the field. After searching for ten minutes, we found the bird 40 yards out. With our quarry in hand, we went back to the hedgerow and walked towards the wood.

  “What was that?” said Brian.

  There was a rustling in the hedge just behind us – something was trying to get through the small bushes. We both turned to look, and saw a man’s head peering over the bush, his bright red eyes staring into ours. I fired two quick shots and he collapsed behind the foliage and disappeared from view. We turned back towards the wood, and found two infected standing where we had previously passed through the hedge, just 20 yards from us. I started to take aim.

  “Christ! There’s more of them trying to get through the bushes behind,” said Brian, the first signs of panic noticeable in his voice.

  Firing four shots in quick succession, two at each infected, I turned to confront the others in the hedgerow. But Brian beat me to it, as he opened up on a woman directly opposite us on the other side of the hedge, not more than five yards from us. Her head exploded like a watermelon, sending a fine red mist into the air accompanied by larger pieces of flesh and bone fragments. Brian then turned his attention to a man that had followed her. His first shot was inaccurate and hit the man in the shoulder, which completely dislocated his arm and spun him around, but the second shot removed the back of his skull.

  “Time to go, Brian,” I said.

  We again collected our rabbits and pigeons, which we had dropped, and trotted towards the wood, then down the side to where Brian had parked the MPV. Once we had covered a hundred yards or so, we looked back towards the hedge and saw at least ten infected following us. Some were coming down the edge of the wood and others were taking the more direct route across the field of green wheat.

  “Come on, James – let’s keep going,” urged Brian. “We need as much distance as possible between them and us to give us enough time to load up the truck and get under way.”

  “OK, but I’m no spring chicken anymore,” I answered, breathing heavily.

  We reached the track at the corner of the wood opposite where we had parked the MPV, and I quickly looked back to see our nearest adversaries more than 100 yards away. Brian continued on the last hundred yards to the MPV, which I hoped he would have opened by the time I arrived. I got halfway before tripping over one of the rotting corpses in my haste to reach the vehicle, and my gun, three rabbits and two pigeons went in all directions across the track. By the time I had retrieved them, Brian had opened the vehicle and placed his kill inside.

  “Come on, James – they’re getting close!” he shouted.

  Taking a quick glance behind, I could see the first infected had rounded the corner of the wood and was heading directly towards me. I started to jog, and finally reached the vehicle almost out of breath.

  “You took your time,” commented Brian as he took up position at the rear of the MPV, shotgun in hand. I threw our evening feast into the back of the car and turned to face the oncoming infected, the first of which was less than 50 yards away and approaching faster than the normal stumbling walk. I fired three shots at him and he eventually fell to the ground not 20 yards from me.

  “Get the motor started!” I shouted.

  “Oh shit!” was the only reply from Brian before he opened up with the shotgun.

  I turned just in time to see an infected fall to the ground in front of the MPV. Another was approaching the driver’s door, where Brian was standing. They had been moving down the other side of the wood. Brian fired from the hip, hitting the fast-closing infected in the kneecap and causing him to fall to the ground. Brian pumped another two shots into him. I was pleased that he was obscured from my view by the MPV, as it would not have been a pretty sight at such close range. Turning my attention back to the four infected moving towards me along the track, I dropped three of them before I heard the vehicle’s engine burst into life, as another three infected appeared from the far corner of the wood.

  “James, time to go!” Brian shouted.

  I didn’t need any further prompting and ran for the passenger door, which Brian had opened. I just managed to shut it as the first of the infected reached the rear of the MPV. Brian gunned the engine and the car started to move forward, but then it stopped as we hit the infected that had fallen in front of it. Brian selected reverse and we shot backwards, but there was a loud bang as the car hit one of the infected at our rear. Brian then moved forward again, this time managing to miss the infected that lay in our path, and we were on our way back to the farm, leaving one of the infected spreadeagled in the middle of the track. Another six infected stood on the track, and two more were moving down the side of the wood.

  We arrived back at the farm at 1.30 pm, and noticed John’s and Miles’s vehicles parked on the track outside the main farmhouse. The field used for planting was devoid of all human activity.

  “Where is everybody?” asked Brian, to no one in particular.

  “Probably having lunch,” I said, stating the obvious.

  Collecting our gear and booty, we went through the front doorway and walked down the corridor to the kitchen. Placing our morning’s kills on the table, we could hear voices coming from the banqueting room. Entering the adjoining room, we found quite a congregation – everybody was there, including the children.

  “We’re back, guys and girls,” I announced.

  Miles was the first to speak.

  “We thought you’d got lost.”

  “Yeah, we had a bit of trouble with infected, and we dispatched a few, but there are still eight or more that we left by the wood, and they may come this way,” replied Brian.

  “Jeffrey and I saw a few in the distance in the village,” reported Miles.

  “So, Dad, have we anything to barbecue this evening?” asked John with a smirk.

  “Well, it’s funny you should ask – we have six pigeons and the same number of rabbits.”

  “I have something to do, then,” commented Scott.

  “We left them in the kitchen,” added Brian.

  “I suppose you’d like something to eat and drink, then,” said Mary.

  “That would be nice, my love,” I replied, grovelling a little.

  “I’ll give you a hand, Mum,” said Linda.

  Mary and Linda reluctantly went through to the kitchen.

  “So, what’s the plan for this afternoon then, James?” asked Miles.

  “Assuming you managed to get the telescopic sights and mounts, I suppose we’d better sort the guns out,” I replied.

  “We still have more planting to do, too,” added Josephine.

  “
How long will it take to prepare the rabbits and pigeons, Scott?” asked John.

  “If I start now, about an hour.”

  “I’ll start to organise the barbecue, then,” said John.

  Mary and Linda returned to the banqueting room with tea and sandwiches for Brian and me.

  “I’m not sure I could eat a dead rabbit,” said Mary in her most condescending voice.

  “It would be really difficult to eat a live one, Mary,” I replied, before remembering that she had kept pet rabbits a few years before.

  “Can we go and play now, Daddy?” Barbara asked.

  “Yes, of course you can, but don’t go far,” replied Brian.

  The three younger children left the room, closely followed by the teenagers.

  “Come on, Jeffrey, let’s get the gear out of the car,” said Miles. “We’ll meet you in the front room where the guns are, James.”

  Brian and I finished our food and drinks while John left us in search of his barbecue, and Scott went into the kitchen to inspect and prepare our kills.

  “How is Roger, your new patient?” I asked Kevin.

  “He’s recovering fast. In fact, Kate, would you like to see if Roger wants to join us?”

  “It’s about time we woke him up,” Kate replied.

  “Time to do a bit of maintenance on the tractor,” Ken said, getting up to leave the room. “See you all later.”

  We could hear raised voices coming from the kitchen. Mary was having words with Scott, telling him to wait while the ladies finished washing the dishes and tidied the kitchen.

  Kate came back into the room, supporting Roger.

  “Sit down, Roger,” said Kevin.

  “You feeling any better, Roger?” I asked.

  “Oh yes, but I’m still a bit weak,” he replied, taking a seat opposite Brian.

  Kate went into the kitchen to organise a drink for Roger, as he tucked into the remaining toast on the table. That’s a good sign, I thought.

  “Let me have something to eat and drink and then I think I should try to do something useful,” he said.

  “Don’t do too much until you’ve built up your strength a bit more,” advised Kevin.

  “Just out of curiosity, what can you do?” asked Brian.

  “Grow things, I suppose,” replied Roger. I thought this was stating the obvious, as he owned a garden centre, but it could be very useful in our situation.

  “Brian and I are going to sort out the rifles,” I said. “Perhaps you could have a look around the farm. Any ideas on producing more food would be welcome.”

  Brian and I left Kate and Kevin observing Roger, who seemed to be improving rapidly.

  We went into the front room, where we had stored the guns and ammo. Miles and Jeffrey had the telescopic sights and mounts scattered across the table.

  “So, James, which sight goes with which rifle?” Miles asked.

  “My basic rule is to put the higher-powered scopes on the centrefire rifles and the lower-powered on the rimfires,” I replied.

  We started with the .17 HMRs and went on to the centrefire rifles. I just hoped that the scopes could handle the extra recoil.

  “I’ll check on the children, and take a look at the hole in the fence we discovered yesterday,” said Brian.

  He had just reached the door when a piercing scream broke the relative silence. Brian was quickly out of the door, shotgun in hand, and I followed, grabbing the Ruger I had been using. Mat, Jeffrey and Miles followed us out.

  We reached the fence in front of the farmhouse that surrounded our vegetable field, and Mary, Linda and Ruth joined us as we looked in horror at the unfolding scene. Five infected people had entered the field where Barbara, Christine and Helen were still playing. Brian shouted to warn them of the approaching danger, and Christine and Helen looked at us and then behind. Both ran towards us as fast as they could, but Barbara took no notice as we all started to shout together, Linda the loudest.

  “Oh no – her batteries have run out!” Linda said, starting to sound hysterical.

  “What does that mean?” said Ken as he joined us.

  “She’s completely deaf,” I replied.

  We started to wave our arms, trying to get Barbara’s attention, but she was still inspecting something on the ground when the first infected reached her. The tall, thin man clutched her wrist and, bending down, he drew her arm towards his mouth. To me this seemed to happen in slow motion as the adrenalin kicked in.

  Brian jumped over the fence and started to cover the 150 yards separating him from Barbara. The little girl let out a scream as the infected bit into her arm and, pulling her arm from its grasp, she turned and ran for the hole in the fence. I instinctively shouted out for her to come towards us, before realising she could not hear anything. As Barbara put some distance between her and the infected, two gunshots echoed across the field, having come from the top window in the farmhouse. The infected started to twitch violently, then suddenly collapsed to the ground.

  Barbara managed to avoid the other four infected and disappeared from our sight as she went through the hole in the fence. I had climbed over the fence together with Miles and Jeffrey and, showing no mercy, we soon dispatched the remaining four infected. As we approached the fence Barbara reappeared, stumbling towards us and clutching her lower arm, blood oozing between her fingers. Ken had also joined us in the field, carrying a double-barrelled shotgun.

  “This looks bad,” he said as he started to point the shotgun in Barbara’s direction.

  “Ken, don’t do anything stupid!” I called as he aimed the shotgun at the girl, now only 20 yards away.

  Barbara was still looking at her bleeding arm as she approached to within ten yards of us.

  I looked back at Ken to see his finger starting to squeeze the trigger, and instinctively I knocked the gun upwards just as a deafening bang made my ears ring.

  We all jumped in surprise – except Barbara.

  “What do you think you’re doing, you prat?” Brian shouted venomously. “That’s my daughter you’re trying to shoot!”

  Barbara lifted her gaze and stared at her father, with her normal white eyes and pale blue pupils.

  “Daddy … that … man … bit … me,” she said, sobbing between the words.

  Brian put his arms around his daughter and lifted her, holding her tightly so her head rested on his shoulder. Then he turned towards us with tears running down his face, keeping a tight grip on Barbara so she would not see his pain.

  “Brian, hurry up – let’s get some antiseptic on that wound!” shouted Kevin.

  Brian broke into a run and passed Barbara over the fence into the doctor’s waiting arms. Kevin issued instructions to Kate, who ran for the farmhouse, with Kevin and Linda close behind. Brian climbed over the fence and went in hot pursuit.

  “From what I’ve seen of this disease, she doesn’t have long,” said Ken. “I hope they’re careful, otherwise they’ll be infected too.”

  He received no reply, as we were all thinking the worst.

  “I must see if I can help,” said Mary.

  “I’m quite sure the four of them can cope, Mary – we would just be getting in the way,” I said, thinking that Brian and Linda should have those potentially last moments alone with their daughter.

  “Grandad, is my sister going to be OK?” asked Christine.

  “Barbara is in the best hands possible,” I replied.

  “I’d better go and see her,” Christine continued.

  “You stay with me and your nanny – let the doctor take care of her,” I replied.

  Jack and Elizabeth had now joined us by the fence.

  “What’s happened?” asked Elizabeth.

  Before Mary and I could reply, Ken abruptly intervened, not realising he was speaking to Barbara’s brother and sister.

 
; “Barbara has been bitten by an infected, and I don’t think she has long before she becomes one of them,” he said.

  A look of horror crossed Elizabeth’s and Jack’s faces as he spoke.

  “She is with the doctor now, and hopefully we’ve caught the disease in time before it can spread,” I said, not believing my own words, but perhaps giving them some degree of hope.

  I returned with Miles and Jeffrey to the gun room, where we continued to set up the appropriate rifles with scopes, glad to be doing something while we waited for news on Barbara’s condition. Mary and Ruth had decided to wait outside Kevin’s makeshift surgery. We were eventually joined by Scott and John.

  “I’ve set the barbecue up at the back of the farm. We’re ready to start cooking,” said John.

  “It’s nearly six, so you may as well get things under way,” I replied. “I’m not sure we’re going to be in the mood for eating, but we’d better have something substantial while we can.”

  John and Scott left, and we were fixing the last scope to the .308-calibre rifle when Mary and Ruth entered the room.