E Virus: The Diary of a Modern Day Girl (Book 2): The Path of Destruction

I would like to thank
Nixxi Rose for graciously letting me use her fabulous designs for my front covers in this series. If you would like your very hand crafted zombie skin shoes check out her online shop!

www.nixxirose.com

I would also like to thank one of my closest friends Lucy Thiele for being my absolute rock. Her support kept me going and her constant texts and emails telling me to “write more!” was the driving force behind the series.

Last but not least, thank you to Kim for helping to proof and edit the book!

Imagine how a modern girl in love with fashion- orientated consumer society would survive in an apocalyptic landscape. E- virus laid bare how quickly the upmarket north Cheshire landscape, home of celebs and footballers, could transform overnight into an infected wasteland and what would be the price for those who fought to survive.

But pulling through the desperate first days was only the beginning.

“ The
Path of Destruction”, like Dante’s decent into hell, opens in a dark wood and follows a quest for survival through a ravaged landscape changed beyond recognition. In this dark new world disorder every relationship and instinct has to be sacrificed to remain alive.

See where
The path of Destruction leads if you dare.

By Nick Brown - Author of Luck Bringer,
Skendleby and The Dead Travel Fast.

www.nickbrownbooks.com

Article taken from BBC News website 2
nd
July 2014. Reporter: Tulip Mazumdar

Ebola kills up to 90% of those infected. There is no vaccine or cure. It spreads through contact with an infected person's bodily fluids.

The way to stop an outbreak is to isolate those who have it and ensure no-one else is exposed. Medical staff are following up on hundreds of people who have had contact with infected patients. They have to be closely monitored for 21 days before they can be given the all clear.

Ebola is a haemorrhagic fever, which can start suddenly with the onset of high temperature, diarrhoea and vomiting. Some people fight the virus and survive, but most do not. They start bleeding internally and externally and eventually their organs shut down.

"We are seeing an increasing level of hostility borne out of fear in some communities," said Dr Bart Janssens, MSF director of operations.

"We can no longer go into a number of villages any more to follow up on people who have been in contact with Ebola patients."

The charity says health ministers from affected countries need to urgently improve public understanding of the disease.

"This requires an important mobilisation of all possible community leaders from bottom to top, because we cannot do this alone"

"We are now dealing with an extraordinary situation so we need more resources to fight the epidemic and we need extra help to convince communities to change their attitudes towards the virus."

*
              *              *

Thinking back to the days before the infection, I had an easy life. I had a good job, a nice car, a loyal fiancé and our own place. Life was good. Like most people, there were things we still wanted, a holiday to the Bahamas, our dream wedding, new clothes and new shoes to name a few.

We were very lucky. We never struggled with money, at times we had to budget and scrimp and save, but we never had any trouble paying off any of our bills, and for that I was thankful.

We were able to go to a nice restaurant once a week, this was our date night. We made sure that we would make time for each other at least once a week, just the two of us. We socialised with all our different groups of friends; we never had to turn anyone down because of lack of funds.

Living in and around Wilmslow was perfect for us. It was far away enough, from the city centre of Manchester that we weren’t caught up in the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. Yet, we were a quick 10 minute train ride away should we ever feel the need to venture into the concrete jungle.

I hardly ever felt the need to stray into Manchester. I had pretty much everything I needed, right where I was. Although the Wilmslow nightlife wasn’t the greatest, we had
Alderley Edge, a little further down the road. We often went out into the various bars along the stretch of the small town. It was always busy, but we had good food, good music and good company.

For me, the Trafford Centre was my favourite place to shop. It was a 20 minute drive, and all I had to
do, was hop on the ring road, the M60, and within no time I was in the underground car park leading up to Selfridges. I was a creature of habit, I knew the Trafford Centre like the back of my hand. I always parked in the same place; I had a routine when it came to shopping, a quick loop of the Trafford Centre, with a stop off at Costco before making my way back home.

This being said, I was starting to do more and more of my shopping online. Just before the infection spread, I was trying to budget, we both were. We were trying to save up, for our wedding the following year.

Ebay was becoming a fast favourite of mine. I had figured out how to get a whole new wardrobe whilst barely spending a penny. I was clearing out my wardrobe on a monthly basis, putting the clothes I had barely worn (and had no intention to) on Ebay. With the money I was earning I was buying new clothes, it was saving me so much money, and I was getting new clothes out of it too. It was so easy to do as well. I had an app on both my iPhone and my iPad. All I had to do was take a photo of the clothes I wanted to sell, and a couple of button clicks later it was online for everyone to bid on. With a fairly high quality camera right there on my phone, it was so easy to do.

The only problem I
had, was that no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t give up my shoes. My shoe collection seemed to be getting larger by the day. So much so, I was running out of space to keep them.

I knew as well as everyone else did, that I had a major shoe problem. I had started hiding them in the car just so my fiancé Nick wouldn’t see them. After a while of them being in the car, I would bring them out and pretend that I had had them for ages. I had that many pairs he couldn’t keep up anyway. Slowly but surely my collection started to get out of control.

Back then, that was what I considered one of my biggest problems. Had I known back then, what I know now, I think I would have seriously re-evaluated my priorities.

“What do we do now?” I asked the remainder of our group.

We were stuck somewhere in the middle of Isle Woods, sat on damp, moss covered stones and tree roots. We had just lost our base to the horde of infected that had been set free, and had descended on our base, forcing us to retreat into the tunnel system below, and make our escape, to avoid being devoured by the flesh hungry, malevolent grasp of the infected.

We had already lost five members of our group. Andy and Lola had both done disappearing acts on us, taking half the transport with them in the process. Greg, Josh and the Sergeant had all fallen victim to infected, and succumbed to the virus that had turned normal human beings into ravenous flesh-eating monsters; hell bent on finding their next victim.

We were now stranded, outside in the woods. With no real means of protection, along with very little food and water to keep us sustained.

I looked around the group as no one attempted to answer me.

We were exhausted, we were all just about ready to drop. None of us could have foreseen the events that had recently transpired. We were all scared. We didn’t know what the future would hold, or even what our next step would be. We had narrowly escaped the horde, without any place to go to, or a roof over our heads, we had finally reached rock bottom.

The woodland area we found ourselves in was far from ideal. Crisp, golden leaves scattered the damp floor. The remaining leaves on the trees bristled in the wind. A powerful breeze flowed through the woods, pushing more of the auburn leaves onto the floor, their final resting spot.

I felt the damp seep its way into my clothes; the cold mossy rock I was sat on did nothing to provide any comfort. The only saving grace, was that I was off my feet. The balls of my feet pulsating, a mixture of numbness and seering pain had taken over.

I glanced over to the tunnel opening we had crawled from, a mere few moments ago. It was some way in the distance. I could see the rocks, stained a deep red, a clear reminder of the Sergeants final moments.

I looked to the Corporal. Without the Sergeant to guide us, we all assumed he would take on the Sergeants role.

He sat on a rock, far away from the rest of us, with his head in his hands. He was the shell of the man he once was. He had taken the Sergeants death a lot worse than the rest of us. I could understand why. He was the closest out of the lot of us, to the Sergeant; they had known each other for well over a decade. They met when the Corporal was nothing more than a training cadet; the Sergeant had trained him, and watched him work his way up the ranks with pride. He was much more than a mentor in the eyes of the Corporal; he was almost a father figure to him too.

They had no choice but to sacrifice their families when the base became overun, not long after the virus broke out. The Sergeant was all the Corporal had left. Without the Sergeant, the Corporal had been left with no one, or so he thought.

We all saw the pain the Corporal was in, we decided it was best to leave him be, so that he could collect his thoughts, and have his time to grieve.

In the meantime, we had more important things to worry about; we needed to get ourselves through the night. The sky above us began to fade, as the temperature descended further. We were at the mercy of the elements and needed to establish a shelter, soon.

George was the first to take action. “Right everyone, we need to build a fire, it’s not getting any warmer out here, and this is a good a place as any to make camp.” He said whilst inspecting our new surroundings.

I glanced around me. I had no idea how we were going to make a fire; I hoped at least one of us, would have some matches tucked away somewhere.

George pulled his backpack off and placed it on the ground next to him. “First things first, we need to collect some firewood. That means dry wood, for those who are unfamiliar with the fire making technique.”

He glanced towards Lacey and I, as he said the last part. It was a slightly sexist comment, but we couldn’t deny it, he was right. We knew nothing about making fires, as far as I was concerned wood is wood, what did it matter if it was dry or wet?

Still, we did as we were told. We scoured the area around us, looking for ‘dry wood.'

I rummaged around the dead leaves and mud. I stayed well away from the tunnel entrance. The Sergeant didn’t have the happiest of endings. He had turned into one of the infected; George had no choice but to force a heavy rock into his skull, smashing it to smithereens.

The Sergeant, in his infected state had made his way into the tunnelling system we had used for our escape. He had caught up to us just as the Corporal was climbing out. The Sergeant had followed quickly behind, leaving George with the rather unpleasant task of disposing of him. There was no doubt about it; George had done the right thing. If the Sergeant had got himself out of that tunnel, we may not have been here today.

My hands were filthy by the time we had collected enough firewood. I was rummaging around the leafy foliage at the bottom of the trees, with only a few small sticks to show for my efforts. At least they were 'dry'. Mud had caked into my fingernails, from where I was digging around trying to find something of use. I smelt like I had just been dug out of a grave, I probably didn’t smell any better than the infected, whose sheer numbers had overwhelmed us earlier that day.

Now, I’m not one for manual labour, I couldn’t even remember the last time I was in a wood, I hated walking. If I needed to get anywhere, I drove. It was much easier.  It was
one of the main reasons why I wouldn’t have a dog. I didn’t have the time or patience for walking; it wasn’t like my heels could get me very far anyway.

As my fabulously gay best friend Marc once told me “Darling, with shoes of that height one does not simply walk, one struts as if every step, were on a catwalk” He was extravagant, but I loved his whole outlook on life.

He was holidaying in Cannes when the flights were cancelled as the outbreak hit critical proportions. I hoped to god he was ok. Knowing him, he would be laid out on a sun lounger next to his private pool wondering what all the fuss was about.

I was completely out of my comfort zone out here in the wilderness.

Lucky for me, the boys seemed to know what they were doing. I felt more like a hindrance than a help. At least when we were at the base, we had guns. I was able to put my skills to good use. I had no outdoor skills at all. I hated every minute of it.

It didn’t take long for George to get the fire going. I was impressed. He had great wilderness know how. He had used some type of moss for the kindling; we sat around the fire, at least we were slightly warmer.

The Corporal decided to join us once the fire was going. He was still troubled, but he did his best to integrate with the rest of us.

“Corporal, what’s the plan now?” Paul asked after an hour or so of silence.

The Corporal looked up, he was exhausted. His face had lost all its colouration. Black bags were forming under his eyes.

“Please, don’t call me Corporal. I am nobody’s leader. Please, just call me Ryan.”

I looked over at him. He had well and truly lost hope. We didn’t blame him. Without the base, the weapons or more importantly, without a cause, he didn’t have the drive to continue. How could any of us blame him for wanting to be a normal person again? After all, he was just a normal human being, just like the rest of us.

George made his way over to him and rested his hand on his shoulder. “OK Ryan, glad you have come back to us.” He then addressed us all. “Everyone try and get some rest, we’ll take turns to keep watch. I’ll take the first shift.”

We had agreed that the safest thing for us, was to each take watch. We would do three hours each. George had taken the new lead, and was looking after each and every one of us.

That night, I had the worst night’s sleep I have ever had in my entire life. I had never been camping, let alone slept outside. We had no blankets and no protection from the elements. The ground was cold and soggy. Stones and twigs dug into my back. I used my hard backpack as a pillow; I may as well have used a couple of concrete blocks instead.

Every time I moved around I was made even more uncomfortable. My shoulder blades had seized up, whilst the bottom of my back had gone completely numb. The fire burning next to me was my only salvation. I could see my breath in the cold air as I curled up in a ball, forcing my eyes shut; to get the sleep I knew was long overdue.

When my body finally went into a relatively comfortable position, my mind started to work overtime. Flashbacks of our final day on the base, the Sergeants terrifying transformation, the images burned into my mind.
The sight of the pale wax like skin, the bloodcurdling screeching and the cold, black, dead eyes that bored into the centre of your soul.

When the images passed, my mind turned its attention to Duckface. She was the reason behind all this. My hatred for her grew and grew. I found myself making up scenarios in my head, of what I would do to her if I ever saw her. If I had it my way, I'd hang her up by a meat hook and stick red hot pokers through her eyeballs. I'd torture her and make her endure the slowest and most painful death possible. Only then, would she get what she deserved. My mind was a dark place.

We survived our first night with minimal disruption. I could hear the woodland animals around us, but thankfully there was no sign of the infected. When we took watch, we stayed on high alert at all times. I was the last to go on watch, by this time the darkness was starting to clear, replaced with a grey overcast sky; the beginnings of the day that followed.

As the nocturnal animals took themselves to bed, the only sound that could be heard was the grumbling in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t eaten for over 24 hours. I woke the rest of the group, as agreed, and reached for my backpack. I wasn’t in the mood to eat, I was still reeling from the previous day’s
events, and I was still in shock. But my body thought differently.

I pulled an energy bar out from my bag, not the most appealing morning treat. But still, I forced myself to eat it. It wasn’t like me to eat first thing. I’ve never been able to do it. I’ve never been a morning person. Even before the outbreak, it took me until at least 11am to wake up fully. People were quick to notice, those who knew me well, knew not to ask me anything too complex until after 10am at the very least.

After gulping the energy bar down, I instantly regretted it. It made me feel so sick. I sat against a tree waiting for the nausea to go. This was precisely why I don’t eat in the mornings.

After a while, the sickness passed. I went to join the rest of the group who were busy packing up.

“What’s the plan for today then?” I asked Lacey as I made my way over to her.

“I think we’re going to try and find a way out the woods.” She replied as she started to throw the bag over her shoulder.

“Good, can’t stand it out here, there must be somewhere else we can go?” I said, keen to get out the wilderness, and find somewhere we could at least have a roof over our head.

We headed out in convoy, all following George. He was the only one who knew the area; he seemed to know what he was doing when it came to the great outdoors.

We spent hours walking through the woodland. It seemed never-ending. The soles of my feet were already starting to burn. Walking was never my strong point. The heavy backpacks we were trudging round with, certainly didn’t help matters.

The woodland area wasn’t exactly level. We had to climb over rock forms, scramble up and down dirt caked hills and through thick mud, laced with leaves and other un-pleasantries.

An hour or two later, after various stops along the way. We came out onto a dirt path. As soon as we passed the safety of the trees, and came out into the open, a vile smell hit us.

It was a mixture of manure and dog poo; the smell was overpowering. I thought my breakfast was about to come back up. We all complained as we took in the revolting air around us.

Keen to get away from the foul stench, we pushed on in the opposite dirction of the offending odour and into the trees ahead.

As we made our way through the undergrowth; the sound of trickling water could be heard nearby. The deeper we pushed on, the louder it became. A shallow stream ran by the side of us. As we went to get a closer look, George stopped us.

“Where do you think you’re going?” George asked us as we veered off course.

“Can’t you see that stream over there? We’re all so thirsty” Nick complained.

“No, we can’t drink that water. That smell, was from the water treatment plant, over there” he pointed to the right. “The plant certainly smells more potent more than it used to. Without anyone to oversee it, the chances are it’s overflowed and seeped into the woods.”

I immediately took a step back. All this walking had made me thirsty. But I’d rather drink my own wee, than drink the remnants of other people’s excrements, and I wasn’t in any rush to sample either.

“Can we not boil it?” Nick asked. I screwed my face up at the thought.

“In normal circumstances yes, but I’m not 100% certain the chemicals the plant use would be killed by boiling the water. It’s best to stay clear just to be on the safe side” George replied.