by Colley, Ryan
I began to feel sick, and I almost vomited once and nearly turned back twice. But, perhaps unluckily for me, my resolve was steady. I approached the military guard post at the bus station.
“Hey Sam, haven’t seen you in a few days!” one of the guards said, a husky man named David. He was one of the men I had spoken to most, and seemed the friendliest. I could have almost considered him a friend if I hadn’t been using him to achieve my plan. He was slightly shorter than me, with shaven brown hair. He normally wore glasses but used contact lenses when he could get away with it.
“Hey man,” I replied. I opened my mouth to say more but closed it nervously. He stared at me, confused by my nervous disposition, and that’s when he spotted my bag.
“Going on holiday, lad?” He laughed. I laughed too. Nervousness and not mirth was the cause.
“Not exactly,” I replied uneasily. I looked him in the eye before continuing, “I need a favour, one bigger than you have probably ever done for anyone.”
David took a partial and uncertain step back, but the military in him came to the forefront and he straightened up.
“What is it?” he asked cautiously. His thoughts didn’t even come close to what I would ask.
“I need you to let me on one of the coaches back into London,” I replied quickly and in one breath. Even though the streets of London were a constant warzone, people were still being evacuated little by little. The bus stations were major hubs of activity as people tried to leave. The plan was simple: catch a ride into London, and then get one of the evacuation coaches to Essex – a near perfect plan.
“You know I can’t do that, lad,” he replied sternly, his role of guard overruling his friendship with a stranger.
“Why not?” I protested. I had prepared my argument word for word, knowing it was my only chance to get through, “At this point, they’re only taking people out of London because of how bad it is. The only reason they’re not letting people back in is because no one is that kind of stupid. Unfortunately, I am that kind of stupid.”
“Why, lad?” he said softly, “Nothing is worth going there for.”
I shrugged and asked, “So, is that a yes?”
David cursed, a little at me, and a little at the situation. He then looked me straight in the eyes and said what I had been hoping to hear, “Okay, but dammit … you realise I’m signing your death warrant?”
“No you’re not,” I replied, smiling. “You’re just letting some idiot do what he needs to do.”
David smiled at this and led me through the guard post constructed of chain-link fencing. He waved someone over to carry on at his post while he showed me the way.
“Won’t they say anything?” I asked when I saw a soldier staring at me.
“They will, later, but at the moment they don’t care enough either way. There are bigger things going on than some kid wandering through,” David replied matter-of-factly, like he knew a lot more than he was letting on. He cast a glance at his watch and sped up his pace. “The next coach leaves in five, so we have to be quick about it.”
“Thanks for this, man,” I replied. “You don’t realise how much you’ve helped me.”
“Hey lad, if you want to chase after a woman, who am I to stop you?” David said with a smile.
I turned to him and asked, “What makes you think this is about a woman?”
“Everything stupid done by any man has been done because of a woman. Fact,” David laughed, although he was completely serious in his sexist belief.
“Fair enough, nice guess,” I shrugged, and added with a grin, “you’re right.”
A few minutes passed before David replied. He looked at me sadly. He was so sure I would die.
“You do realise that whoever she is, she isn’t worth it?” he asked quietly.
I smiled at him before saying in a barely audible whisper, “Alice is.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence. What was once a familiar bus station for me was no longer recognisable. It was a makeshift military outpost. Where sleepy travellers normally would wait for buses which rarely turned up on time, there were now armed men walking around; some with purpose but most were bored. As we got closer to the coach, nervousness choked me. I was leaving everything and everyone I ever knew behind for, what most would consider, a journey of a madman. If I was a superstitious man, I would have thought that the tightness was the hangman’s noose around my throat getting tighter with each step, but that was a ridiculous thought. I swallowed away the lump, the thoughts of seeing Alice melting it slightly.
We approached the coach. The driver sat tensely at the wheel, waiting for his time to leave. He had learned that when the military wanted him to leave at a certain time, they meant that second and not a minute or so later. I certainly hoped they were paying him more than just overtime.
David knocked on the doors, and the driver opened them immediately.
“Here’s a passenger, no questions,” David said sternly to the man, displaying an authority I hadn’t seen from him before. I stepped onto the coach and turned to David.
“Goodbye man, you’ve been a good friend,” I said and smiled. He looked at me sadly, and then looked around him to make sure no one watched as he did the unexpected. He withdrew his handgun. I recognised it as a Browning 9mm. I had many years of video games and a great memory to thank for that knowledge. It was the standard issue of the British military, although there was talk of changing it at some point. Would they ever get around to changing it with the current state of the world?
“It’s dangerous, especially when going alone, so take this,” David said and handed me the gun. I stared at it dumbly. The black metal tool was heavy and cold in my clammy hands. David continued, “It has thirteen shots. Make sure they count.”
I nodded, temporarily unable to speak. He then searched his pocket and withdrew a single round. He put it in my pocket before adding, “And that one is for you, in case you need it.”
“Thank you,” I whispered quietly to him. The gun weighed as heavily in my hands as it did in my mind. Although I would need every bullet he had given me, I knew the significance of that last round; a thought which I couldn’t bear to think about.
“Be safe and get going,” David replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. He then nodded at the driver: the symbol to leave. The driver nodded in return and started up the coach. I continued to stare at David as we pulled away, and he did the same in return. When he was out of sight, I sighed heavily and slumped into a seat about midway up the coach. I felt mentally drained and my adventure had only just begun. I so badly wanted to sleep, but adrenaline pulsed through my blood, almost in anticipation for what was to come. I closed my eyes, thoughts of my family I had so eagerly left behind dancing through my head. I needed this; I needed to get away and do what I was doing. A few tears rolled down my face but I wiped them away quickly, almost so I wouldn’t catch myself crying. I looked around the empty coach, just the driver and me, and I drifted off slowly to sleep. The simple exertions of the day had caught up with me.
CHAPTER 2
I hadn’t been asleep long. I could tell by both the lack of change in scenery outside, and the wristwatch I wore. I had woken with a sense of unease, like when you walk into a dark room and can sense someone is hiding in the dark waiting to scare you. I opened my eyes and looked around, momentarily forgetting I was on a coach and why I was there to begin with, but those memories came back to me in a flash. I sat up straight and stretched. I looked around and found the source of my unease. The driver of the coach stared at me in his mirror. Not a casual look, but a full-on stare. My eyes met his in the mirror and yet he still didn’t look away.
“Was I out for long?” I asked him, knowing the answer but desperate to get his gaze off of me.
“Not at all, about twelve minutes,” he replied. It was creepy enough to know he was watching me sleep, but even creepier that he knew to a precise degree how long for. A wave of goose bumps washed up my arms and raised the h
air on my neck.
“Ah,” I exclaimed, unsure of how I should act. Was he okay with the fact I had caught him staring? Or did he simply not care either way? A second shiver ran through me, but I shook it off. I tried a different approach and asked him a question.
“Made this journey often then?”
“Oh, about seven times. Fourteen if we’re counting there and back,” the driver answered, “Seen all manner of things.”
“Like?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“Seen a man almost beat another to death right at the back there,” he replied matter-of-factly and gestured to the rear of the coach from over his shoulder.
“Do you know why?” I asked in surprise.
“Rival bankers, both very high up, or some nonsense. Been in competition for years. One made a remark about a stain on the other’s suit and he flipped out and started pounding him. Took the escort aiming a gun at him to stop him,” the driver answered. I couldn’t tell if he was serious as he delivered the story so nonchalantly. I didn’t entirely want to know either way. People doing what people did wasn’t exactly new. I would watch the news if I wanted to hear anything like that. Instead, I focused on another aspect of his story.
“What did you mean, ‘escort’?” I questioned. His eyes were back on the road, and I began to suspect he was just weird as opposed to menacing. I imagined his journeys got lonely, and the sense of unease began to disperse.
“Well, in the early days of the evacuation, each coach had a soldier onboard. More so to keep peace and watch for the infection,” the driver replied, while he drove us along the empty roads. “As time went on and the infection got worse, they stopped putting one on the coach. Probably because they would rather the forces were somewhere else, I suppose. They also became much more selective as to who they let on to begin with. Got a sniffle or some blood on you? Access denied.”
“Did you ever see any of the infected?” I asked, surprised at his openness to discuss it. Most people tried to avoid the subject.
“One or two I thinks,” he answered thoughtfully, casting a glance at me in the rear-view mirror. “On my way out of London, seen some army shooting at people. Think they were infected.”
There was a few moments of thoughtful silence. I broke it with a very straightforward, yet widely debated question: “What do you think is really going on?”
The driver let out a bark of laughter before he replied. “Seriously? They’re zombies! Short and simple,” he said with a smirk.
I smiled. At least someone in all the madness agreed with me and used the “zed” word. I relaxed back down into my seat, the gun still on the seat next to me. It was strange to have a gun within touching distance, let alone having the expectation of using it. That was one thing video games hadn’t prepared me for.
We drove in silence for the next hour, neither of us wanted to talk but both deep in thought. We didn’t pass a single car along the way, nor a single person, living or infected. Eventually the coach began to slow, pulling me out of my contemplative state. Surely we weren’t there already? I walked to the front of the coach to see why we were rolling to a stop. London was nowhere in sight, but in the middle of the lanes was a car. It had flipped over, and glass was smashed all across the road. A barrier between both sides of the road was heavily damaged, obviously from where the car had hit it. The most disturbing part was the blood. There was blood smeared across the car and glass; it looked like someone had crawled out of the window. However, the trail didn’t stop there. There was a trail all the way across the road, which disappeared down into the grassy embankment.
“What’re we gonna do?” I asked the driver, staring at the bloodied car.
“We can’t go round it, too much debris. The glass would be fine, but the metal … we can’t risk it with the tyres,” he replied uneasily. He looked at me with a nervous smile. He expected me to get out and move it! I sighed and began walking towards my seat to get the gun – my gun. Adrenaline began to pump through my blood as I prepared myself for the unknown, and that was when I heard a thump. It was loud and very close. The whole coach shuddered with the noise. I turned to look at the driver, doubting my sanity for a moment. He craned his neck to try and find the source. He had also heard it. Suddenly, there was another thump, followed by another. It came from the outside of the coach, on the right side. There were a few more thumps which shook the whole coach. I edged over to the window to see the source of the noise. What I saw caused me to freeze in disbelief. Running out of the line of trees, not very far away, were thirty or so people. Yet, I could see they weren’t quite people. They weren’t close enough to see “the whites of their eyes” but, even from the coach, it was clear something was wrong. Some were covered in blood and others had parts missing. Some had splinters of bone hanging out of the ragged flesh where an arm, or other body part, used to be. Some were dressed in ripped clothes, others in suits, some wore nothing at all. There were four at the base of the coach pushing against it as if it wasn’t even there. As the seconds passed, the other infected from the woods got closer.
I finally managed to free my mouth from shock-induced silence and shout, “Reverse!”
The driver, wrenched from his shock as well, didn’t wait for me to ask again and began to reverse … but it was too late at that point. There was a resounding thump and metal crumpling as thirty or more bodies of the infected collided with the coach. It shook the entire vehicle and threw me to the floor. There was a groaning and creaking of metal being stressed beyond breaking point. I thought I must have hit my head when I fell, because when I looked up, I saw the floor was shifting and leaning sideways. I tried to stand up but began to fall again. It wasn’t my head that caused the coach to shift … the sheer amount of weight pushing against the coach had begun to tip it over! I wanted to strap myself down with a seatbelt, but there wasn’t time. I braced myself between the seats, ready for what was about to happen. The coach went from being vertical to diagonal, to horizontal in less than three seconds. There was a deafening crash as it hit the concrete. I was thrown along the length of the coach, head over heels. I remember glass exploding upwards, and metal crumpling inwards. I slammed into something but had no idea what. Whatever it was, I hit it hard and I hit it fast. I blacked out …
TAO OF SAM – HYGIENE: THE BASICS
It isn’t the most important thing, but how you wear your hair may be very important to your survival. Long hair gets tangled up. It can get caught on things. It can get grabbed by the undead. You don’t want long hair. That goes double for Kelsey. Hair down to your backside just won’t do! You need short hair. It will give you an extra edge over others.
The other advantage is in the long run. Long hair takes effort to maintain. When it is dirty, it is uncomfortable and you can get lice. Short hair is easier. If things go as badly as I expect they will, water will be in short supply. Eventually the infrastructure will probably collapse. Many types of illness will run rampant. Short hair means less chance becoming infested or sick.
There may be a psychological aspect also. When dealing with other survivors, shaved heads may be intimidating. You want others to fear you. Life without confrontation is impossible, but at least you can prevent some of it.
Secondly is general hygiene. Yes, you should wash. It will keep illness and disease at bay. But only wash as minimally as you need to. Do not waste resources. Especially you, Mum. You do NOT need to wash twice a day. Get over it. A basic wash every other day will suffice. Antibacterial gel may be useful just for hands. Washing has to be done if you get covered in gore. We don’t know how the infection works yet. Adjust your behaviour when you do.
CHAPTER 3
Ears ringing, brain screaming. Agony. Where was I? I tried to lift myself up, but pain shot through my head. I fell again. The pain wasn’t just my head. My entire body protested. I pushed myself to my feet again, prepared for the pain the second time. The shattered glass cut into my hands as I used them to regain balance. I gritted my teeth and heaved
myself up. My hands might have burned, but everything else hurt worse. As the ringing subsided, I realised it wasn’t my brain screaming. I could hear screaming. I had been thrown between two seats and ended up lying on the broken glass in a crumpled mess. I pulled myself out the gap, balancing on the sides of the seats. I could see the driver thrashing in his seat and realised he was the source of the screams. I ignored my pain and began to climb forward slowly over the sides of the seats. As I got closer, I saw the reason for his screams. The glass was cracked and the infected reached through a small hole they had created. They reached through with their entire arms but could only try to claw at him as their shoulders prevented them from reaching further. They didn’t have the cognitive ability to tell them they needed a bigger hole, or to break the glass even more.