World Down: A Zombie Novel

by Walker, Callum Bennington Goldworth

  “Good boy.” I roughed his fur, and he let out a low, satisfied purr. Jessica and Lily won’t be back home until after college and school, so I went straight for a shower. Taking off my clothes and jumping into the tub. The water was cold, so I turned it up, but when it went to the hottest setting, I found it was still ice cold. Anyhow, I made do.

  In the training camp, some of the lads from the B Company had us sit in icy tubs for winter training, or some dumb challenge of their own making. This was nothing compared to that. I came back and sat at my laptop desk, all the while rubbing my towel against myself to dry. I almost hit my head on the way in. Not that I was a particularly tall person. Charles was on the window ledge, his fat ginger chubby sides hanging off the edge. It was a sad sight, when an owner neglected their pet.

  I wiped my face with the towel as my laptop booted up. The cat looked up and down at me, judgingly almost, before casting his eyes to some tasty magpie in the distance.

  Below I saw a neighbour changing their line with a worried face. After the laptop was loaded, I searched up the news, as I always did when I was bored. Charles jumped off the ledge and practically smothered my face, typing in a string of unintelligible nonsense into the search bar.

  “Hey?!” I said, before it brushed its face against my head, kissing my forehead with his slimy nose. “Love you too, yesh, who's a good boy? You are,” I said, before finally getting him to stop and roll around on the bed instead of my desk.

  “Crazed man falls off building after attacking colleague,” the headline on the front page of the internet read. I read the complete article, as the whirring and buzzing of a helicopter flew over my house. I knew we were close to an airport but it was getting ridiculous now. The news needed their aerial shots I guessed.

  I walked over to my bed and looked back out the window, giving Charles a stroke of his mane as I did. The sky was a canvas of red and the birds flew high into a great low cloud, there were so many. An enormous flock of worm killers as grandpa would say.

  I went back to my laptop and read another article about all the random attacks in London. The articles disturbed me beyond belief, but London was so far away from here.

  The first trending story was about a woman who ate her own baby in the crib in one of the articles from the British Gun, while another report from the Right Report said that a man walked off the edge of a rock in the middle of the North Sea, becoming stuck in a pressure pipe. There was a video of it in the thumbnail as well. It was just a blur of red and blue water and what looked like a pixelated underwater pipe. What could drive someone to mindlessly jump into a dangerous area like that? It was madness. Underneath there were countless more. Group of revellers turn into raging bloodthirsty mob, butcher family of seven. There was even a video doing the rounds of the King of England turning blue and purple during a speech in Buckingham Palace, before coughing up blood onto his clean white handkerchief. Conspiracy theorists said they were linked to him being a lizard man.

  After the most read stories were the usual ones. Plastic in the oceans, wildfires, carbon emissions, excreta. Tensions between countries, and the endless clickbait of hot singles in your area, insurance scams and look at them now celebrities.

  “Man wakes up from shotgun blast to the head,” read a headline.

  “Wow what a title, and the picture,” I whispered.

  An old man dressed in black trousers, a top hat and a grey suit, that's posher than what I wear. His face, gone, replaced by a gory mess. Half his bloody head was blown off, splattered to the sidewalk in streaks of pink and red matter. I groaned in discomfort as I saw another picture and read aloud the article's closing lines.

  An eyeball was swaying from his mangled flesh, a smile etched in his face, as his hands reached for the person behind the camera. I stared at the picture at the bottom. A chill ran down my spine. I was freaking myself out and quickly snapped out of it with a quick shake of my head.

  “Well, that's enough internet for today,” I said, just as a loud noise that sounded like the opening of the gates of hell ran up my spine and assaulted my ears. It was a passing train outside, I smiled, realising I’d only gone and left the window open. I looked up at it and caught a glance of my reflection, and for a second, I felt strange.

  My phone suddenly buzzed with a text message from Thomas, my best mate. Growing up he was a year older than me. He'd been in the army reserve for four years now, ever since he left school. Me and most of my friends all applied together to join the army reserve in July. We were put into the same infantry regiment of the territorial army. A reserve role of course. The same platoon, the same fire squad. Thomas pulled a few strings for us; he said the better you know your squad mates the more efficient you were or some bullshit.

  I had just finished my first year of college, and we would be making money on the side and learning new skills, and we’d joined a fairly good branch. 1st Platoon, B company of the 4th Battalion of the Mercian Regiment, under the King's Division. I'm a private at the moment. Private Blake Lively of B company based in Wolverhampton HQ. We only joined 3 months ago. But If I keep this up for a few more years I'll be promoted to lance corporal, corporal and then sergeant, but I don't think I’ll get that far. I only joined for the money truth be told.

  I received an incoming call from him then, and answered it without hesitation.

  “So, you got the letter too,” I immediately said to him.

  “Yep, can't wait,” he said back. Jake joined the call then, Jake McKinley. He was gay and, in the army, something he got stick for back at home by his family. They were idiots, I always stuck by him, he had been my friend for almost a decade now, and he announced himself with his signature grunt which made me smile.

  “This is bullshit. I only did it for the money. I didn't know I'd actually do anything. It's just reserves right?” He immediately said.

  “Yeah it's just guarding. Keeping us ready, prepared. They wouldn't call us up if we weren't needed,” Thomas said to him.

  “It's been 3 months,” I reminded them.

  “Calm mate. Just breathe. If they see you all panicky, they'll probably just send you home,” Thomas told us.

  “Good. I'd rather.”

  “Hi boys,” said the voice of James McKinley, Lance Corporal McKinley he was, second in command in our section to Thomas. We all said hello to him as he was always nice, being the older brother of Jake and the only one who supported him at home.

  “Yes, lads!” Shouted the obnoxious Mason down the group call. His connection was awful as always. “How are we all feeling?”

  Mason was a hothead, not afraid to push anyone's buttons. We didn't know Mason until we enrolled. All I can tell you is that his personality matches his appearance. He is small and balding, round and muscular.

  “Good, great,” I said, over the depressing answers of the others. The worst of which was Jake, who answered.

  “Like I want to die.”

  “Cheer up Jake, cheer up!” Mason shouted.

  “Xi Yang Yang!” He then shouted, taking the piss out of me. It was because I was a quarter Chinese from my mom, Xi Yang was a nickname my grandmother called me and he overheard it on the call. He's called it me ever since.

  “Hey did you guys hear about the guy that nutted in his colleague’s coffee?” He then said, much to the confusion of almost everyone inside the group call.

  “Wait, what?” Asked James.

  “Ok then. Nice change of topic,” Thomas added.

  “What the fuck Mason,” I said, as I looked to see if my bedroom door was fully closed.

  “Guy was giving his colleague coffee with semen in it, it's a true story,” he followed up, just as the ping to notify a new caller joining the group call sounded.

  It was Jacob Mathews, Private Mathews.

  “Try doing that with Maddison,” remarked Thomas. Maddison was our medic in our section squad. Delta she was assigned to. That was James, Mason, a lad called Jacob and Maddison herself. Charlie Squad was me, Thomas,
a funny guy called Hussain and Jake.

  “Oh my god, that's fucked,” said Jake flamboyantly.

  “What the fucking hell have I stumbled across here,” said Jacob quite amusingly as he joined the call. He was the coward of the group all being said.

  “Wait hold on a second,” I said with a stuttering laugh, confused as to why Mason would want to tell us this story.

  “What?” Asked James again in the background.

  “She was saying her coffee tasted bitter and stuff to the police, turns out he’d been doing the business,” Mason added, just to clarify.

  “Is that illegal?” Asked the newly arrived Jacob.

  “Is that illegal,” I repeated sarcastically.

  “No, so he got arrested? Or just fired?” He then asked. It was the dumbest question I’d ever heard in my life. Of course, he’d be arrested.

  “Oh, yeah, he got off scot free,” James interjected. “Fucking retard.”

  Jake and Mason laughed at him, and as I thought that was the end of it, he piped up once more.

  “He might not have,” Jacob stupidly said.

  “What?!” Thomas shouted.

  “So your saying he doesn't know when he's jacking it under the desk?” Jake asked him in his queer voice.

  “Yeah, yeah Jake he's just spraying a load into her coffee, mixing it round in a nice little creamy brew. Little frothy on the top, you know how coffee is supposed to be,” Mason said, revelling in his crassness.

  “Wait until Hussain is here. He's gonna wanna hear this,” Jake said with gay glee. Hussain was the resident joke in our group. Not jokester, just joke. Half the time we were together he was made fun of. Whether for his looks, his background, his wit and charm. Only joking, he didn't have any wit or charm, it was just his way of making us all laugh with just his presence alone, a trait naturally only he possessed.

  “Yeah, he'll probably say something more fucked up,” Jacob insisted.

  “Nah he won't. I bet the brainless will have more brains than you,” Mason said, continuing his relentless teasing of the guy even when he's not here.

  “There is something you're not telling us here. Something about you,” I said, implying that he was the one who jerked into his colleagues cup.

  “Come to think of it, does Chelsea work in the corner shop with you Mason?” They all howled in laughter as soon as I finished. Chelsea was James’s girlfriend.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Mason shouted.

  “She wouldn't touch him with a bargepole,” James said harshly down the phone.

  “I bet Hussain would have a better chance at her than you,” Thomas said.

  “Hussain is so gonna wanna hear this!” Shouted Jake again in delight.

  “Where is he anyway?” I heard Mason say, just before the unmistakable voice of Hussain joined the call.

  “What's up bitches?” He spoke.

  “Hey!” I said happily.

  “Ahh!! It's the Man! Hussain,” Thomas said.

  “Big brains here,” Mason murmured, still stung from my earlier jibe.

  “Hussain. What's up bro,” Thomas asked.

  “I'm good. Yeah,” he responded nonchalantly, in a Hussain sort of way.

  “Ah what would our lives be like without Hussain,” Mason teased.

  “Boring and miserable,” Jacob interjected.

  “Hussain. How's your day been?” James asked him.

  “Yeah man,” the private responded.

  “Yeah,” Jake imitated him before laughing.

  “Hussain do you think it's illegal to have a little fun in a cup of coffee?” Mason asked him.

  “Yeah Mason. Hey man. I don't know,” Hussain answered.

  “Oh my life. Your just mumbling,” Jacob said.

  “Your dad's mumbling man,” Hussain mocked him, and I mentally fist bumped him.

  “Great start,” Jake said quietly.

  “Forget it,” Hussain mumbled again.

  “Yeah, forget it,” Jacob spoke in his foreign accent.

  “Guess what I bought today. Shootout 2018,” Hussain then exclaimed excitedly. A notification alert on my phone about football pinged.

  “Hussain. Red Devils,” I said to him, knowing he was a staunch fan of the football club.

  “Yeah, shit Red Devils. Shit game. We need to sack Jackson and hire Moyers. Because he badly wants to come,” he told me.

  “Really?” I asked. “With all the bad press he’s been receiving?”

  “Really man.”

  “Hussain you still coming football?” James asked him. We were supposed to be going football practise tomorrow, we could still get it in before going to the base on Tuesday.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed.

  “Yay!” Jake and Mason sarcastically shouted.

  “I asked my mom about tomorrow, she said I could come,” Hussain added.

  “You still ask your mom permission to go out?” James asked him, but Hussain did not dignify him with a reply.

  “Thanks that's really helped my depression,” Jake joked about him coming. But it wasn't really a joke. He’d been on some tablets for his depression for years now.

  “Jake needs you to protect him from Michael,” said Mason, invoking the name of the creep they used to know. He stalked some woman home supposedly, and they all made jokes and roasted him for it, and now supposedly he's gay. But Jake wants nothing to do with him.

  “Don't worry Jake, I’ll protect you,” said Hussain. “Oh, thanks Hussain.”

  “Mason, I want to ask you something,” he then said, addressing his nemesis. “Oh, that's quite forward,” said Mason. “What is it?”

  “Ye ye. I want to ask you something,” he said again. It was another Hussainism. A Hussainism was when Hussain said something odd or weird.

  “Well, go on then ask it.”

  “Nah nah. I don't wanna now,” Hussain said. Yep, it was definitely another Hussainism.

  “C'mon what's the problem. Like just say it,” Jake prodded.

  “No, I don't wanna now.” An awkward pause in the call followed. In the meanwhile, I searched for articles on the news websites about this new virus.

  “Ok I think…” Hussain began, while Mason spoke at the same moment.

  “C'mon Hussain. You can...”

  “I love Autism. Speaking at the same time,” Jacob interrupted the silence that followed them speaking over each other. Jake laughed loudly down the microphone, as I looked outside to the sky and found it darker and greyer than before. Night was coming fast.

  “Ok ok. I'll say. Do you wash your jacket?” Hussain asked his question.

  “That's the question?” Said Mason.

  “Oh my fucking god,” Jake cursed.

  “Erm, yes. It's just you wear that jacket all the time and it looks like you never wash it,” Hussain quickly added.

  “Alright mate!” Mason got angry.

  “Getting called out by Hussein on your fashion sense. That's when you know you should end your life right there,” Thomas joked out of nowhere, and we all laughed.

  “Hussain, fuck off yeah, have you seen your teeth? Probably not because you've got no mirrors in your home as they've all cracked upon seeing you smile,” Mason scolded him, but not Thomas, he dare not attack Thomas.

  “That’s peak,” I said as I scrolled the laptop pad.

  “Does someone want to come Sheldon Country Park and play football with me?” Hussain asked everyone, oblivious of the roast he’d just received. We all laughed at his expense.

  “Tomorrow do you want to play football at Sheldon Country Park?” He repeated, quickly and in a dumb tone.

  “You what?” Uttered James.

  “Say that again?” Said Jake.

  “Do you want to come Sheldon Country Park?” Hussain spoke, again, but this time in an odd Arabic accent, more so than his usual broken English.

  “Who's going to be there?” Asked Jake.

  “We're not in the mosque now, Jesus,” said Mason.

  “That’s a bit
racist, racist cunt,” Thomas told him. It came as no shock, we all knew Mason was Islamophobic, and not a very clever one.

  “You know me all too well,” Mason sung sarcastically.

  “My uncle and my family,” said Hussain, answering Jakes question.

  “I'm good thanks mate,” Jake told him rather nastily. “If I’m playing with you lot tomorrow, I need to get my Argentinian top,” Hussain spoke as he groaned while stretching to reach something.

  “Ooh Argentina fan,” mocked Jacob.

  “Ooh your mum fan,” Hussain hit back, making Jake and Mason chuckle.

  “Yo, I'm coming in my Argentina top and floral shorts,” he then told us all. “And Jake. You are playing footie?”

  “Yeah, we’ll make him play,” I said. “Means Michael can't come near him.”

  “I want my baby Jake to play,” Hussain sang down the phone, surprising us all. He came from a very conservative Muslim family, so to hear him call another man baby was a shock to all.

  “You what?” Shouted James.

  “I said I want my baby Jake to play,” he reiterated.

  “Wait, what did you say?” Asked Jake.

  “I want. My baby. Jakey. To play football.”

  “Be careful your mom doesn’t hear you, she’ll be cracking the whip,” I said as I laughed.

  “Of course, we know what you're into then,” Thomas spat down the mic.

  “What? His cat?” Said Mason.

  “Nah, you can't do that, only with your girlfriend in London,” James lambasted him.

  “Get burned him so hard he’d have to be in intensive care overnight!” Shouted Jacob. “Oooh!” James shouted.

  “Oh! Burn!” Jake said, as Hussain laughed.

  “Yeah, in a coffee cup,” Jacob followed up to no laughs.

  “Got your life ended right there, Mason,” Thomas laid it on, and he was right. You see, Mason had told us of a mystery girlfriend he’d abandoned when we first met him in training. It was complete bollocks from the get go. He’d concocted a story about sending this girl to London and leaving her there, never to see her again, and after he never spoke of it again and when confronted with the story, he would deny telling it in the first place. It was absolute jokes at the time and the fact he denies telling it now was proof to us it was all fake, making it ten times as funny.