“Help me!” She screamed. “Oh god, oh god, do something, do something!” Jamie gurgled blood up and onto the floor, spilling from her mouth like water from a fountain. I just watched in astonishment, as the pistol grew heavy in my hand. I looked to my left and to the raising of a rifle and the squirming fingers of Mark on the trigger. He was conflicted about his friend Christopher, but then he shot his gun, hitting his undead friend and shattering the glass behind in a wild blaze, drawing the attention of all the undead outside.
“What the fuck!?” I shouted at him. That's when they came trudging in, some jogging like freaks, I didn't know that they could move faster than walking. They had breached the hotel.
“You idiot!” Peter berated Mark, who now cowered and ran like a fool down the corridor.
He advanced and blew a pellet from his shotgun at the first and second dead one to come through the shattered glass panel. But there were too many in the street outside. They came pouring in.
“Betty, get Betty,” Peter called out. Terrence came running from the security room and ran over to Betty. I shot the handgun at the crowd of undead streaming through. My bullets were doing nothing. I had taken only one down. My gun then stopped firing, I had to reload.
“I don't know how to reload!” I yelled.
“Please help, please,” cried the paralyzed girl on the floor. There was nothing I could do, it was all happening so fast. Jamie was as good as dead.
“No! Aghhhhhhh!” She screeched as the dead savagely fell on her. They ripped her apart in front of our very eyes. Her whimpering died down as they piled on to the feast. The screams of the dead continued as Terrence ran over to the cafe where Betty was lying on the floor. She had been knocked unconscious.
Fay came running down the corridor to the reception then, she almost ran past me and to Jamie’s body as the girl drew her last breaths in complete agony. I winced as the blood pooled out from the pile of bodies. Nothing there was alive anymore.
“Jamie! Jamie…” Fay shrieked. I pulled her away. “There's nothing we can do, come on!” I told her. I looked at the unconscious Betty in Terrence’s arms. He ran but was set upon by the dead. They bit his right arm down to the bone. He kneed the bastard in his exposed rib cage and ran away, still holding the unconscious but old lady in his big arms.
“Go! Run!” Peter shouted, unloading another pellet at the closest freak to us. He knocked the skin and flesh right from a dead woman's mouth, but then she turned her head back to us, her lower jaw removed with a snarling groan. It was a horrifying sight.
“Die,” I was sure I heard her say. One of them had spoken?
Terrence ran past me with the old lady, his arm was bleeding from the ravenous bite mark that had been inflicted upon him. I was still reeling from hearing what I had heard. I snapped out of it and ran with him down the corridor with Fay, Peter soon followed and we shut the double doors just in time before the dead smashed through after us. Terrence set Betty down and held the door with Peter. I sprinted down the hall to the crowbars in the armoury, retrieving one in quick time.
When I arrived back, they were breaking through, one of their hands had squeezed through the crack. It scraped its undead black fingernails across Peter's face as he held the door as fast as he could. I put the crowbar through the handles and Terrence helped me loop it as he leaned his colossal weight against the double doors. When it was done he slowly relaxed, as the dead continued scraping against the doors to no avail. We were safe from this entry.
“Go to the other staircase, shut the doors!” Peter said to his brother. Terrence nodded his head.
“I’m on it!” He replied.
“What about your arm?” I asked as he ran away. He ignored me and took off to the stairs to go one floor up and seal the doors to the other staircase.
“What about his arm?” I asked Peter. “He was bitten?”
“He's fine,” he said to me, still digesting the death of two of his friends. Fay fell down in a heap against the wall of the corridor, weeping at her friend, Jamie's demise. I walked off to find Terrence. My blood was pumping so fast, my heart beating out of my body, my adrenaline was as high as it ever was. When I found Terrence, he had secured the other corridor to the second staircase, and remarkably, I saw his arm was healing. No, it was healing, completely.
“You were bitten, how could you survive that?” I asked him, stepping backwards in terror. “What the hell are you?”
“What? It's nothing, I wasn't bitten,” he responded.
“Yes, yes you were,” I said.
He rolled his eyes and continued boarding up the doors. He was definitely bitten by one of them, I saw it, I saw the bite mark on his arm as he ran past me. I wasn't seeing things…
I left to find Peter and Fay back on the other side of the building, as I did I turned back and caught Terrence staring at me with his silver eyes. They were no discernible colour, other than a dead grey. When I returned to Peter and the others, I asked them about Terrence, Peter said he wasn't bitten. A lie if I ever heard one. He surely didn't believe he wasn't bitten. It was clear as day. Fay said she didn't see; she was too traumatized and concerned with the situation to notice his bite and Betty was still unconscious.
“Are you serious? He was bitten!” I exclaimed.
“Go and find Ian, tell him what happened, if you see Mark tell him he's in big trouble,” Peter said. I held my head in shock at everything that had happened. How could they not have seen his bite? I wanted to kill Mark. What idiot wildly fires his weapon when there is fragile glass between us and a horde of infected people. I made my way up the stairs, all the way to the top of the building. I was sure I heard cries coming from one of the floors. It was probably him, sobbing at his idiocy. I made my way up the last flight of stairs but found the door to the roof barred.
“Stop!” Called a voice from behind it as the metal clanged from my forced entry. It was Ian.
“Ian! It's okay, the building is secure,” I told him calmly.
“You're sure?” He spoke quietly.
“Yes,” I answered.
He opened the latch and let free the door. I pushed it open and found him in a suit of body plate. Like something a riot cop would wear, holding a piece of the building as a bat.
“You were prepared,” I remarked stepping to the fresh air on the roof.
“What the hells happened?” He asked me. I took a moment to ready myself before speaking.
“That man Christopher was infected, he got to Jamie, Mark shot at him with a gun and broke the glass, letting about thirty of them in, we sealed the reception and cafe off.”
“So they're dead, who...who's dead?” He asked stuttering.
“Jamie and Christopher,” I said. I don't know them that well so their names fell off my tongue like nothing. He put his hand to his mouth.
“Oh god,” he uttered. “There's less and less of us every day…”
The radio made static noises then, before going clearer than ever before. I could just make out the person talking. Then in the distance, I could hear helicopter blades whizzing. I looked to the horizon over the airport, and could see a black helicopter in silhouette, flying, surveying the ruins.
“This is an emergency message,” whizzed the radio.
“You got it working!” I said in elation. It was the first time we had heard anything in days from the government.
“Yeah,” said Ian as his eyes were fixed on the helicopter. I listened to the broadcast, the same that had been transmitting every hour.
“Time of message is 16th of October, sixteen days since the onset of the outbreak,” the voice spoke, and I immediately knew it was a familiar voice… “My name is Private Blake Lively of the Mercian Regiment.”
A chill ran down my back, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood.
“Come to the Exhibition Centre, we are here, and we will beat this,” he said, and then it ended.
“That helicopter, it's circling the buildings,” commented Ian who was sti
ll observing it.
“Jess, are you seeing this?” He asked me. I just stared at the radio, then at the floor in disbelief. I could hear him, and I knew exactly where to find him.
“Oh my god… That's my brother!” I burst out in tears of joy. He could help me find Lily, and together we could be safe again! I had to find Peter!
“He's your what?” Ian uttered suddenly. I ran past him and down the stairs. I was ecstatic, being careful not to fall down the stairs like a ragdoll in my excitement and snap my neck, what an anticlimactic end that would be I thought in my head and laughed as I ran down another flight of stairs. I ran and ran and ran, to the corridor, where I could not find anyone. Then I turned to the storage room, and what I found in that horrid red room made me feel weak in my legs. I wanted to be sick, as before me, lay four bodies, and Terrence on his knees, ripping into their flesh and biting chunks out of them.
I stared at him for about five seconds before he noticed me. His eyes were glaring red, but they turned back to their usual grey colour when they saw me. His mouth was caked in blood and gore as he rose it above the bodies. I remembered my nightmare then… It was this before me now.
“It's not what it looks like,” he spoke in a rough, deep croaking voice. I gasped again in absolute shock. I thought one of them had spoken to me before, but they were a corpse, this guy was still alive. I began hyperventilating, this couldn't be happening, and I almost slipped up on the entrails as he moved close to me and got up. A pair of arms grabbed me from behind and held me still as I fought back against them. It was Peter, dragging me away. I cursed at him but he held me tight and dragged me away to the security room, shutting the door to the satanic scene in the storage area.
“Mike’s dead,” he uttered amongst my growls. I momentarily stopped, as he relieved his grip. The little boy was dead? How!? I was so confused, I wanted to leave, I had to find my brother and sister, before something else happened to any of us. What the hell had I just seen?
Africa - Day 18 - Hussain
It was a beautiful day in the camp. I was sorting ration packages; we were running low but I didn't tell any of the people. They were already scared enough. I shook in the night with terrors and dreams of what I had seen. It was enough death and destruction for a hundred lifetimes. I’d seen the blood, the entrails skewered out onto the ground, and a runway covered in bodies. I’d heard the screams of a thousand dying men and felt an explosion that rocked the ground and blew away entire buildings. I’d already seen hell on earth, and it was over now, all that remained was smouldering ash and dried blood, the crows and the groans of the dead.
I had met a girl yesterday in the camp. She had blue hair with red pins, green eyes, and she was very pretty. I had only spoken to her yesterday as she was receiving rations from me. She inquired about painkillers for her leg cramps in the night. Her name she told me, was Georgia. She was here again today, I had to know more about her. I quickly gave the old lady in line two ration packs, as I was feeling generous, and then rushed to greet her. I was going to ask her out. It might be the end of the world, so why not try, I had nothing left to lose in this world.
“Georgia,” I said, getting her attention. She turned around to me and glanced down to the floor. “I wanted to ask you, are you doing anything this evening?”
“I’m in a refugee camp, not really,” she said plainly. It amused me and I chuckled for a moment. She did not laugh though, and I realised how insensitive I looked.
“Did you get what I asked for?” She asked me. “I really need it, my legs are cramping every night, it's awful, it hurts so much.”
I remembered the painkillers she had requested. “Yeah, here,” I delved into my pockets to find them. I took the bottle of pills and told her to hold her hand out.
“Why don't you give me the whole bottle?” She asked. I looked down on the lid, do not exceed three tablets a day it read.
“Well, it's dangerous,” I told her. I already knew in the back of my mind why she wanted them, and it wasn't good.
“I'm an adult, I can handle it, please give me it?” She requested.
“I don't think I should give you the entire bottle, it can kill someone,” I said, realising why she wanted the pills. She wanted them, because she wanted to kill herself.
“Yeah, I know,” she whimpered, and began to cry.
“Georgia, what is wrong? Was it something I said?” I asked, hanging on to the hope she wasn't suicidal.
“Just…” She sighed emotionally. “Let me have it,” she whimpered. “I can't go on.”
“No,” I told her firmly. “You can't say that, you can't be like that, you're beautiful, you don't get to do this,” I said. She paused, as tears formed in her eyes, she closed them and held my hand.
“Georgia?” I spoke.
“My names not Georgia,” she told me. “It's Olivia, and three days ago, I lost the only person I ever cared about, I loved her so much,” she cried, so I held her and comforted her. It was a long embrace, as she took her time to come to terms with her feelings.
“You smell nice,” she whispered into my ear. It was strange as I had not showered in days, and neither had she, because she smelled awful. But I wouldn't tell her that. I had sprayed some of Masons aftershave on this morning when he was not looking, so that explained it.
“Let's sit down,” I said to her, and we got talking, talking about everything, what she wanted to do after college, where she wanted to travel to, who she liked and disliked, everything.
“Where do you come from? Olivia,” I asked with a smile.
“Bristol. I heard to go north, I wanted to pass through Wales, but they closed the border,” she told me.
“It's probably nicer in Wales, less people, more rural, nature all around you in the north,” I said trying to chirper her spirits.
“Your one of them, you're a soldier, so is it true, is the north safe?” She asked me.
I shook my head as I answered.
“I don't know, the briefing before we were deployed said it was a worldwide contagion. Nothing about Manchester or Newcastle being safe.”
The karaoke music blared off in the distance. Some of the soldiers had set up a spare microphone to speakers. It was in the hope that it would rouse spirits in a camp of doom and gloom. A song about blues was being sung by Mason. It was a classic and ironic considering the situation. He sang, and his voice was ok, but not amazing, nothing like Elton.
“Boo! Get off the stage you suck! Trash!” Someone called out.
“You wouldn't know good music if it hit you in the face!” Mason shouted back with the microphone falling down to the floor.
“I thought he was quite good,” I said to Olivia as she laughed. I hadn't heard her laugh before. I stood and walked over to the makeshift stage they had made, beginning a slow sarcastic clap.
“Mason! That was absolutely amazing!” I mocked him.
“Shut it Mohammed,” he said, coming down to me.
“I’m a way better singer than you,” I said, showing off in front of her. Maybe I should go up there and sing?
“Why don't you jump up there then? The new Pakistani sensation Hussain Mohammed,” he mocked in a funny voice. “See how that goes down with this crowd,” he said pointing to the unsatisfied small crowd. I had second thoughts then, with this crowd, with everything that's happened. It did not feel right. I felt like they would attack me, so I stayed back, and stared at the empty stage.
“You should go up,” Olivia then said from behind me. I was so surprised that she believed in me.
“You think?” I asked her, sounding shocked.
“Yeah, try it, who knows, you might like it,” she said, persuading me to go up.
“Ok, I will!” I told her. As I ran up the stage and took the microphone in my hand, I felt emboldened.
“Hello everyone!” I announced. What the hell was I doing?
“Were going to be singing…” I muttered as I fiddled with the CD player. I saw an entire playlist of fu
n songs. Brilliant!
“My Song, by Jelton,” I said, as the crowd, now only thirty people, murmured with content.
“I’m dedicating this to someone special in the crowd, no naming names, but its Olivia!” I said looking to her as it started. She was happy, smiling and I felt good too. My confidence was through the roof. I sang, looking right into her eyes. This was the end of the goddamn world, who cared if someone recorded it. The internet was gone, who would care about embarrassing me in this horrible world. I could die tomorrow, why not feel happy for once. I sang the beautiful chorus while looking into her crystal eyes, but just then Thomas came bursting onto the scene with a raging fury.
“Shut it down!” He shouted.
I froze and set the mic down, not wanting to incur the wrath of the deranged corporal.
“What's the problem Thomo? Can’t have any fun anymore?” Mason said as he raced past him and unplugged the microphone. Thomas looked at him with a fury.
“You're wasting electricity, making people uneasy, drawing attention to us.”
“They loved it!” Mason said. “You've gone off the rails!” He added with a smirk.
“Three dead ones just laid fucking siege to the northern gate, that’s why it stops,” Thomas said.
“Thomo I had no idea,” I said.
“Well now you do,” he said. “Blake needs you both for his damn vigilante mission.”
“You don't believe in it?” I asked.
“I'm only concerned with keeping everyone here safe,” Thomas said. Mason gestured his nose increasing from behind Thomas, imitating Pinocchio’s lies. Thomas turned and gave him a threatening glare before retreating back to the gates. I walked down to Olivia. She was scared of him. We all were. He killed the lieutenant just as much as Blake and now it seemed he had become him. Blake was operating under a law of his own now as well, away from Thomas, who disliked his action of transmitting a message on the radio. Blake redirected newcomers and welcomed them with a warm smile. Thomas was furious when he found out about the transmission. He didn't want more people because he thought about the long game. He said it's all well and good trying to help everyone at once, but to do that means sacrificing the lives of the people who were already there, as sooner or later the food will run out. He said he will leave the camp to Blake to sort long before the anarchy descends.
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