Zombie Revolution
Twelve Zombie Short Stories
K. Bartholomew
Zombie Revolution - Twelve Zombie Short Stories
By K. Bartholomew
Copyright © 2019 K. Bartholomew. All rights reserved worldwide.
No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance the characters may have to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Warning: This book may contain graphic language and scenes of zombie gore and violence.
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Contents
Annihilation
Antidote
Caged
Compliance
Hunter
Mary Celeste
Roanoke Colony
Snatched
The Day They Came
The Village Bake Sale
The Widower
Zollywood
Bonus*
The Sun - November 2014
Safari Mum Dies From Disease
A woman who was flown back to Britain from a Kenyan safari trip after being bit by a thought to be extinct De Brazza monkey succumbed to her fever last night. Only hours after arriving in Africa, Angela Walker (49) was bitten by one of the rarest animals on earth.
Hospital sources at Leeds General Infirmary announced the death at 20:15. “We are sorry to announce the death of Mrs Angela Walker and our condolences go out to her family and friends at this time. We were unable to treat her due to the unique strain she had contracted from the monkey.”
This case hit the headlines late last week when it emerged Mrs. Walker would be only the second person to contract rabies in the UK in the last 20 years. However, hospital staff later confirmed Mrs. Walker did not have rabies, but some other unknown disease. “Symptoms exhibited were at first similar to those of rabies,” stated Doctor Welland, Chief Epidemiologist at Leeds. “The patient suffered from muscle spasms, delirium and hydrophobia, symptoms consistent with rabies. It was only when Mrs. Walker exhibited changes in complexion, loss of eyesight and became aggressive towards her family members did we then examine a sample of her blood under the microscope. We then confirmed the strain contracted by the patient in Africa was not rabies, but of a previously unknown disease.”
The family would like to thank hospital staff and the many ordinary people around the country who have sent their well wishes. They ask that they now be left alone to grieve in these most trying of times.
One
“Oh yes, I’m briefed up. I assume he’ll go on the new jobless figures…What?...Or that. Either jobless or the rise in gas prices, either way it’ll be a normal Wednesday. How about the surprise questions?...Really? You think?...Bells thinks it’ll be the NHS worker on two salaries and Steve reckons we’ll get that God awful airport incident with the hip replacement chap having to drop his briefs…Huh?...No a couple more minutes, there’s a large protest on Parliament Street…Just another Wednesday…Oh, I don’t know, let’s see…Looks like North Korea. Anyway, I’ve got to go, last minute preps. Say hi to the French Foreign Minister.”
The Prime Ministerial car slowed as it negotiated the protesters. The man sat in the back stared deliberately forwards as knuckles banged against the bullet proof glass, insults were screamed and fingers were flipped, just another day. The sirens from the police motorbikes startled the crowd as they were pushed back on the paving. The motorcade increased in speed for the final approach to Parliament, armed police opened the Carriage Gates and the motorcade passed swiftly through. The Jaguar Land Rover rumbled into the space designated Prime Minister and stopped.
The Prime Minister, David Sterling, sprang from the car and paced through the Member’s Entrance.
“Prime Minister, they’ll go on the jobless figures.” The Work and Pensions Minister confirmed, heading Sterling off in the lobby.
“Yes, I’m well briefed, don’t worry Tom. I suggest you keep a low profile today, it’ll blow over.” He looked away from the minister and toward the young brunette rushing across from the cloister. “Ah, Bells? Bells, get me the Scottish Secretary for one.”
“Yes, Prime Minister, two minutes. You’re giving me a heart attack today, sir.”
“Bloody protesters. If war comes it won’t even be till after the election.”
“They should wait, Prime Minister.”
“They could do us all the courtesy of waiting till after the election. Thank God the media’s on side.”
“Not The Mirror, Prime Minister.”
“Never the bloody Mirror, Bells.”
Sterling entered the House of Commons chamber from the side of the Speaker, which made it hard to avoid the vile man’s grimace and tapping of watch. He slid in behind the dispatch box between the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Deputy Prime Minister, his coalition partner. “Apologies. Bloody protesters. He’s going on the jobless figures.”
The Deputy Prime Minister was glancing around for his other colleague. “Did the Work and Pensions Minister suddenly remember he had more pressing business?”
“I didn’t catch that Nigel, can’t hear a thing in here, sorry.” Sterling shifted to glance at his back benchers, grimacing at their volume. Why were they so happy? Today was the third quarter in a row jobless figures had increased. In case they weren’t aware, there was an election in six months.
The Speaker stood and called the house to order. “Number one, Prime Minister.”
Sterling stood and leaned into the dispatch box before reeling off the line he now knew by heart. “This morning I had meetings with ministerial colleagues and others. In addition to my duties in the House, I shall have further such meetings later today.”
“Chiles Warburton!” The Speaker declared to huge cheers from the opposition benches.
Warburton, Leader of the Opposition, waited for his backbenchers to fade. “Prime Minister, in the last quarter, unemployment has risen by an extra 77,000. At the last general election, you stated your aim was to get Britain ‘back to work.’ Why were you lying to the British people?”
Deafening roars from the opposition benches made it hard for Sterling to think. He watched as the pip squeak Shadow Chancellor, an odious little man, pointed and laughed in an effort to distract him. Sterling raised an eyebrow toward the Speaker. You cannot accuse the Prime Minister of lying in the House of Commons, why wasn’t he demanding a withdrawal?
Conceding to let it go, Sterling looked down to his script, safety. “I recall that under your party, youth unemployment reached 900,000. Unemployment reached 2.5 million and we had more children in workless households than at any time in our history. We can all thank the opposition for that.” Would that wretched little man sit still and stop pointing his fat finger, shouting, distracting. The whole bloody mess was half his fault. “It is under this coalition government that we’re offering private business cash incentives for taking on under 25’s. It is under this government that we’re stopping national insurance tax on all new employees for the first two years of employment. It is under this government that we’re finally cleaning up the mess that the opposition created and I hardly find it a surprise that you don’t support the measures we’ve taken.”
Sterling sat as Chiles Warburton stood again; one down, five to go and then on to questions from the backbenchers. As long as they remained mum about North Korea then it might be an easy run up to the election. A cross-party consensus on supporting the war was alread
y in place, the media had spent the last few years building a case for it and no mainstream party would defy the press. The only potential problems were the odd rogue politician but a list had already been drawn of these rascals and handed to the Speaker, who would not call upon them to speak, at least not during Prime Minister’s Questions, when the TV audience was comparably large.
Sterling made it through Warburton’s questions quite comfortably, reading from his prepared script. Meticulous preparations always helped. Then there were questions about the closing down of a youth centre in Cambridge, a permanent national memorial to Margaret Thatcher, the delays in the building of a new road in Wales and the closure of a chocolate factory in Birmingham.
“Timothy Hart.” The Speaker shouted.
“Thank you Mr. Speaker.” He’d have to speak up if Sterling was to hear him through the constant din. “My constituent Angela Walker passed away from an unknown disease yesterday at Leeds General Infirmary and I’m sure the Prime Minister will join me in paying tribute to the loyal and dedicated staff at the hospital.” The noise faded to zero, just as always when the question was about somebody who’d died, like they gave a damn. “Due to the recent budgetary cuts, the hospital had to scale back on testing, which delayed proper diagnoses. While it’s clear that Mrs. Walker would have died anyway from this unknown disease, would the Prime Minister agree that further budgetary cuts at Leeds General Infirmary will further prevent the excellent work NHS staff carry out on a daily basis. The family have also requested that dedicated funds be made available for proper research into this unknown disease, in order to prevent further possible deaths resulting from safari trips.”
A question from round the side, not to mention an irrational request from beyond the bounds of possibility, made by a family with no knowledge of national budgeting in a time of deep emotional trauma. Such things were usually best ignored but for the bloody TV cameras and the need not to appear insensitive to the female voters. A standard response was called for.
“While I can’t comment on individual cases, I would be happy to meet with the honourable gentleman should he make an appointment with my private secretary.” That ought to do it. Oh, damn it, that bloody din again.
Right, that’s it. Back to Downing Street.
Radio 1 with Sara Cox
1 November 2014, 12:59
That was the excellent Cold Play with Yellow. It never gets old does it. Now, we’re a little behind schedule so we’ll go straight over to Newsbeat but right after that we’ll be live with Jay from Geordie Shore.
Thank you Sara. This is Newsbeat at 1. The Prime Minister has defended his austerity measures and job creations programme at Prime Minister’s Questions, saying that he expects youth unemployment to fall during the next quarter. Nestle has closed down its Birmingham factory with the loss of 700 jobs. Leeds General Infirmary has reported a violent incident with a patient; one arrest has been made. Finally, former model Katie Price gets married for the fourth time. Newsbeat will be back with more headlines at 2.
Thank you, Simon. We are live with…
Two
“He wants full independence on the 24th June.” Benedict Bradley, Secretary of State for Scotland sat facing Sterling over the desk.
“Next year?”
“Yes. A little over six months. He wants a party.”
“Paid for with English taxes I bet. So much for independence.”
“He says you agreed to it.” Bradley turned, distracted, by the cat striding stealth-like across the floor. “Ah now, I have an allergy to cats, Prime Minister.”
“Oh, Larry won’t hurt you. Man up man!” Sterling made enticing come here sounds. “Ah, now I understand it. That’s the anniversary of Bannockburn. Wants to rub it in, does he?”
“Excuse me, Prime Minister?”
“The 24th, Ben.” Sterling reached into his drawer and pulled out a bag of cat nibbles. “Damn bloody thing won’t come near me unless I have treats.” He frowned as the cat turned around and walked out the door.
“Seven hundred and one years since.” Bradley showed his distaste. “He wants a concert Prime Minister. Wet Wet Wet say they’ll be playing, Annie Lennox, Susan Boyle too.”
Sterling sighed, “I share your ire, Ben, but we’ll give him what he wants. Once it’s done, it’s done. Then no more English money. He wants out, he’s out!” David Sterling would now have his legacy - The Prime Minister who let Scotland go. What a thing to be remembered by.
Scotland had won independence by a close margin in the referendum two months before. All that mattered now was the small detail of the date, when the United Kingdom would be formerly dissolved. An issue that, understandably, was top priority for the moment.
Sterling stood and closed the door left open by the cat. “Which reminds me, I need to update his Twitter feed.”
“I thought you didn’t do Twitter?”
“It’s not for me, it’s for the Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office.”
“Sir?” Bradley, confused by the remark stared hopeless at Sterling.
“Where’s lunch? Let me get Bells.” Sterling moved for the phone but it started ringing before he could pick it up. “Ah Bells, what’s for lunch?...What?…Oh, well that never happens…Yes I told him to make an appointment with you, but nobody ever actually goes through with it, it’s all for bloody show…Timothy Hart, tell him, well tell him when I’m available, whenever that is…Well I’ll have to now, won’t I…Salmon?...That’s fine, Bells…Could you try put him off, I’ve got this Scottish thing to sort out…And that, yes…And the American President. Thanks, Bells and can you try keep Larry away from my office.”
“I could come back later, Prime Minister?”
“Oh no, no need. We’re about done.”
BBC1 - Look North, Yorkshire
1 November 2014, 18:30
Reporter Phil Bodmer stands in front of the iconic Great George Street entrance of the Leeds General Infirmary.
Details of the incident we reported on earlier have been sketchy indeed. Hospital sources confirmed that one arrest was made, apparently for a violent incident involving a patient and a hospital porter, but staff have been slow in releasing further details to the media. We don’t know at this stage who the patient is or what kind of violent incident took place.
We can confirm, having spent the last few hours standing here, that several armed police officers have entered the building and thus far, nobody has left under arrest. Until we receive a formal statement from either the police or the hospital, then any further details would clearly be speculation on our part.
Of course, our viewers will be aware that Leeds General Infirmary has been in the news recently due to the…
At this point the building’s lights shut down and everything behind the reporter turns black. Phil Bodmer instinctively looks at the hospital and then turns back to the camera.
It looks like the lights have gone out there. This is a new development. It could be something as simple as a power failure, or perhaps, for whatever reason, the police or hospital staff have shut the power off. But of course, we’ll bring you more news as it comes in.
Back to the studio where we have the young magician of the year.
Three
“Ah, George, do sit down. You’ve met Bells?”
“I’ve met Bells, Prime Minister.” Defence Secretary, George Hamilton gazed longingly at Bells sitting with one leg over the other, holding a pad, facing the two men. “Hello Isabel.”
“George, do you Twitter?” Sterling slouched back in his seat as he used his feet to swivel around from left to right and back again.
“I do not, sir.”
“There’s a spoof account of you.”
“I was not aware of that, sir.”
“You’ve not seen it?”
“I have not, sir.”
“You should. I found it rather comical.”
“Prime Minister.”
“The cuts, George. Can we squeeze any more from your depart
ment?”
“Prime Minister, the military is already the smallest it’s been since the Boer War.”
“Yes?”
“Sir, it won’t look very good politically.”
“Nor will it if we don’t reduce this damn deficit.”
“We’ve already closed several northern bases, sir.”
“Nobody’s bothered invading the north since the Battle of Neville’s Cross in 1346, George.” He looked to Bells. “Ah, the American President?” Then back to Hamilton. “They don’t vote for us up there anyway.”
“Photo op at two this afternoon…Downing Street. Then you’ll be visiting a local youth centre.” Bells interjects, looking apologetically at Hamilton.
“Basketball court?” Sterling enquired with a raised brow.
“Of course.”
“And then North Korea. I think I’d rather be remembered for breaking up the UK.” Sterling stamped down his feet, stopping the chair from spinning. He paused and glanced back at Hamilton. “What’s on your mind?”
“Prime Minister, I don’t think the voters will fall for reducing the size of the army any further, then bringing in more territorials. We’re not making any real savings and our forces will suffer disproportionately.”
“Yes, but if we turn back now the opposition will have a field day, so onwards we must forge.”
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