The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle (4 page)

Daniel and Rob left their company’s reception area, not
bothering to lock up. If anyone wanted to step over Marilyn’s gruesome remains,
who were they to object? An intruder would probably break the glass doors
anyway. Trepidation at leaving their relatively safe haven made them take their
time, cautious as they walked into the unknown, down the stairs. They looked
like office worker Knights of New, armed with a desk leg each, their fire
extinguishers held out front like a shield. In their pockets was a box cutting
knife each, for close quarter protection, although they knew that, with no
personal experience of violence in their lives, they’d be screwed if danger got
that close. Slowly they descended, checking around each corner as they came to
it. After three flights, they began to relax a little.

It was the wrong thing to do; stopping at a corner, about to
check the next flight of steps was clear, they heard footsteps. Slow, trudging,
tired of the world footfalls, accompanied by a rasping breathlessness. Someone
was coming up, towards them.

“What do you want to do?” Rob asked, hesitating.

“It’s only one person, there’s two of us. Let’s keep going.
We need to get past whoever it is.” Daniel replied, any bravado in his voice
coming from the desire to get all this over and done with, and get home.

They continued descending, slowly, line abreast to present a
united front, desk legs drawn.

“It’s around the next corner,” Daniel said in a low whisper.
Whoever it was halted, it had heard them talking. The lads held their breath,
making no sound. Eventually the footsteps started up once more. They could now
see the top of the person’s head over the banisters. It was male, balding on
top, sporting a grey suit.

“It’s Bill,” Rob whispered, “I’d know that bald pate
anywhere.” He heaved a sigh of relief at this knowledge, and began walking more
normally downwards.

“My turn to tell you to be careful,” Daniel hissed after
him.

“Don’t worry,” Rob said. And stopped, frozen to the spot.
Bill had just rounded the corner and was looking upwards, towards the direction
of the talking. It was Bill’s cadaver alright. Bill just wasn’t in it. The
eyes, although milky and opaque, had a malevolence they had never seen the
likes of before. His face was the expected grey, mouth bloody, from which the
rasping noise came, its frequency changing perceptibly when it caught sight of
them. It was the man’s right arm that had their complete attention. Both jacket
and shirt sleeves had been torn off it in a struggle, the violence of which was
attested to by the ragged remains of the material. The jacket was askew, it
hadn’t been adjusted since the struggle, so very not Bill. He was normally a
neat, bordering on dapper man; whatever this was, standing in his suit, just
couldn’t carry off the well-dressed man about town image. The fact that half of
the flesh on his arm and hand was missing didn’t help. The exposed bone was a
smeared creamy red; some of the sinews remained, allowing a small amount of
movement of a couple of the fingers, to be precise, the two main digits. His
flensed arm came up, appearing to point at Rob, a bony finger extended.

“Is he flipping you the bird?” Daniel asked, looking on in
wonder. Bill’s hand gesture looked for all the world like he showing defiance,
although it was unlikely. The absurd moment passed when Bill lunged at Rob,
emitting a dry screeching sound. It was as if he was drying up from the inside,
his voice sounding like wind over paper, rather than a more moist utterance
expected of the living.

Rob was ready for this attack, he had sensed it, and had
already begun bringing the desk leg down onto Bill’s unprotected crown. The
desk leg bent under the blow, but did deliver a satisfying crunch, exposing
brain matter. A second strike, and the man went down on the spot. Rob stood
there, shaking from the effects of adrenalin, the tip of the makeshift sword
dripping blood and gore. With a rush, Rob let out the breath he had been
holding and slumped down, sitting on a step, the metal of his weapon clanging
on the marble stairs. His face was flushed, eyes looking down, appearing to age
significantly in that moment. He’d known Bill a long time.

Daniel sat down next to his friend, and put a hand on his
shoulder.

“It wasn’t Bill, you know,” he said, unsure what might
comfort Rob at this moment.

“I know that. A thought keeps going through my mind, that
I’d have like to have done that to him on so many occasions in the past, and
when I finally get the chance, the bugger isn’t even at home. He’s always been
frigging annoying.” Danny smiled, Rob would be okay. He, himself, had thought
the same thing on many occasions, but the law and civil decency had prevented
that.

“Shall we get going, then?” Daniel asked, standing up once
more.

“Sure, let’s,” Rob replied. “I’m going to have to get
something better than this to defend myself with,” he said, trying to
straighten his newly formed scimitar back into a foil.

Continuing downstairs once more, their confidence was now
higher; their first encounter with whatever these now were, was over, and they
were no worse for wear. At last, the final flight of stairs was ahead. Now they
had to look out for others that might be in the foyer, remaining ready to run
back up the stairs and to safety, or so they hoped. It was good to have a bolt
hole in reserve. Daniel pulled at Rob’s sleeve, and whispered in his ear,
“don’t forget the receptionist, she may or may not be violent by now.”

They had noticed a tendency for people to turn eventually,
going from a somnolent, passive state to becoming aggressive and rather
bitey
. Whether they were intending to feed or just attack,
neither knew, nor wanted to find out in a hurry; either option was just too
appalling to think about. Looking back on his train journey into work, Danny
regarded himself as having been lucky; he’d come all the way into work on a
train, where most of the passengers had, it seems to have transpired, been on
the turn. If he’d been Catholic, he would have sent up a prayer of thanks to
his guardian angel.

Reaching the bottom stair, Daniel stepped ahead of Rob, and
slowly crept around the corner, the reception desk coming into view. The area
was empty. Where was that bloody receptionist, he wondered. Rob stayed to the
rear, ensuring nothing came at them from behind; they were already becoming a
team. With luck, this coordination of effort would enable them to survive the
upcoming journey. Daniel walked over to the desk and, peering over the fascia,
confirmed the absence of the girl. He turned back to Rob and signalled the all
clear. Suddenly a flicker of movement flashed behind Rob who was, in the next
moment, thrown forward as the full force of the receptionist struck him in the
back. Surprise registering on his face, he went down on the smooth floor,
sliding towards the exit. The girl was on his back, clawing at him, trying to
get a proper purchase. Her mouth was agape, her teeth and tongue coated in
bloody saliva. She made a gurgling sound, her lungs filled with the slimy
liquid. Her eyes were completely milk white; she had turned fully, and now,
facing away from him, he could see how she had been infected. About half way
down her blouse was a gaping hole. Her ribcage was exposed, and it looked as if
an animal had savaged her. Now Daniel felt guilty for not noticing her state
earlier; he really must become more observant, he thought, critical of his
social ineptitude.

Returning to the present, he aimed his trusty fire
extinguisher at her head, and swung for all he was worth. Slipping on a pool of
saliva and blood, he fell on top of the struggling couple, and they all
slithered sideways in a heap of flailing arms and legs.

“Fuck!” Danny shouted in surprise. The mad creature had now
turned over and was trying to bring her teeth to bear on this new threat. Rob
had his hands around her throat and was squeezing like there was no tomorrow.
It had no effect on her whatsoever. If anything, she became more frenetic in her
fight. Prising the receptionist’s hands from his arms, Daniel disengaged
himself from the pile. This time he brought the desk leg to bear, and his years
of cricket and net practice paid off. A clean strike to her temple stopped her
in her tracks. She collapsed and flopped atop Rob like a rag doll. Grimacing in
disgust, Rob threw her off,
swearing
profusely. His
shirt was slick with bodily fluids; now they both had evidence of battle, their
faces splattered with other people’s blood.

“I hope this isn’t how the infection spreads,” Rob muttered,
his face a mask of revulsion. Using his sleeve, he wiped himself clean of most
of the mess. It was pretty ineffectual; both of them now looked like they had
attended a gore-fest, the blood they had tried to clean off merely smearing
over their skin.

Looking out of the full-length entrance doors they could see
that there were a large number of these infected people out there, wandering
aimlessly in various states of undress and injury. At some point, many must
have been in a fight for their lives before succumbing to the inevitable.
Across the other side of the street, they watched as a couple, no more than in
their early twenties, ran, hand in hand, chased by a mob of fast-moving
infected. The girl tripped up in her high heeled shoes, and they both went
down. Immediately they were pounced upon by those giving chase, as well as
others who had been near the fatal stumble. It reminded Daniel of a nature
film, the victim assailed by a pack of hyenas. It was truly horrible.

“Right,” Rob said, “now we’re down here, and officially
murderers with a body count of three, any ideas how the fuck are we to get to
Cannon Street Station?”

They both retreated from the doors so they would not attract
the attention of those things outside. They had to find a way to blend in, be
able to walk past the threat. Running wouldn’t cut it, some of these buggers
could run seriously fast, and Daniel doubted he could have outrun the pack they
had just watched bring down the boy and girl.

“How the hell do they differentiate between their own kind,
who they don’t attack, and those who haven’t turned?” Rob asked, not really
expecting an answer. They sat there, thinking on it.

“Could it be they smell their own kind? Or the way they
walk?”

“What am I, the zombie expert all of a sudden?” Rob said,
tersely. Both were clearly stressed. Anything they came up with would be pure
guesswork. While they waited, Daniel looked at his phone and found Janet had
tried to call him. He dialled his voicemail and listened to her message. His
face paled as he heard her voice.

“Janet’s trapped in the library, in a room in the library.
Apparently there’s a guy outside who’s been eating someone. That certainly
answers one question in my mind. They do want to eat us. Not sure if that’s the
good news bit.” He dialled her number again before Rob had a chance to answer.
It was picked up after the first ring.

“Hi Jan. Are you okay? I got your message.” For the second
time that morning he was thrilled to hear her voice.

“Am I okay? Am I okay?” she hissed angrily. “Are you a
moron? Which bit of my message didn’t you get? That thing I told you about is
on the other side of this door, enjoying his happy meal, so we’re being quiet,
trying to wait until he forgets us. Maybe then we can get out of here.”

“Who’s we?”

“Paul.”

“Oh, your boyfriend.”

“Stop that.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“Alright,” he could hear her tone soften. Now wasn’t the
time for an argument. “He’s going to come back to our place with me. I think we
shouldn’t travel alone right now.”

“I agree. Even though it’s him, I’m glad you have company. I
would have preferred someone bigger and more capable,” he replied. Just so long
as you can outrun him, he hoped, rather ungraciously. The times, they are a-
changin
’. “How are you going to get away from there? Do you
have a plan?”

“Yes. We’re going out the side window here. It opens onto a
small alley. We haven’t seen anyone go down it, so it should be as safe as it
can get.”

“Okay. Call me when you get home, or if you have to hole up
somewhere else. Listen, there’s something we’ve noticed about these infected
people; they don’t stop if you try to kill them. Anything but a blow to the
head, only seems to make them mad. Hit their heads really hard. And close your
mouth and eyes as you do it, it’s messy.”

“Are you shitting me?” she asked, still apparently unable to
come to terms with their new world.

“I shit you not,” he replied. “I am serious. Some of them
also run really fast. Try to avoid being seen at all.”

“That was my plan,” she replied sarcastically. Daniel
chalked that one up to fear.

“And find something heavy, we’ve got fire extinguishers and
table legs. Janet, hear what I’m saying. This is for keeps.” The phone signal
was fading.

“Okay, love. Got it.” And the signal finally broke. He believed
she heard his warning. That’s what he needed to believe.

They had given themselves all of five minutes to come up
with a viable and realistic way to stop the Infected, as they had now dubbed
the diseased people, from recognising them as prey; so far they hadn’t been
able to come up with a single useful or desirable idea. Everything from daubing
themselves in the secretions of the dead in the building, through to draping
themselves with body parts were discussed; all were rejected.

Daniel was afraid that, by staying in contact with
disjecta
membra
- a brilliant
term he’d once found in a Sherlock Holmes story, describing blood, guts and
remains - it was possible that they could, in turn, become infected. That frightened
him more than anything they had faced so far.

“You’re right, buddy. There’s not much point in avoiding
being eaten if we contract whatever it is they’ve got,” Rob pointed out. “I’d
like to know why you and I didn’t get infected when they did. If we knew, it
might be useful, somehow.”

“I haven’t got a bloody clue, Rob. I’ve got a cold, maybe
that’s a clue, maybe not. You were in a clean room with filtered air, maybe
that was your saving grace. Can’t see us ever finding out for sure. I just know
I’d rather shoot myself than end up like these things,” he said, gesturing at
the street, “if I had a gun of course.”

They sat in silence once more.

“I’ve got it!” Daniel cried, his tone jubilant. “What if we
didn’t smell human?”

“What? How could we do that?” Rob queried.

“Being in the office overnight, did you bring any toiletries
such as aftershave?”

“Yeah, but it’s all upstairs. I didn’t think we’d need it.
Right now, washing and smelling good isn’t exactly at the top of my list of
things to do before I die. Oh, sorry. Bad choice of expression,” he added
hurriedly. Daniel just nodded.

“It may or may not work. Even if it gives us enough time to
get past groups of them, it’s worth a try. Anything we can do is.”

“Well, then. I’ll go upstairs and get it. It won’t take a
mo
’.”

“You aren’t going anywhere alone. We’ll go together. We can
be back down here in minutes.” Daniel was insistent they didn’t split up; he’d
seen plenty of movies that demonstrated what a bad idea that almost always was.

“Alright, then. Let’s get on with it.” They got up and, with
more confidence at their ability to sort any problems they encountered, rushed
up the six flights to their office. They passed Bill, lying there on the stairs
where they had left him, blood pooling and congealing around his head, casting
a gory halo of the damned. They tried not to look too closely at their
handiwork, satisfied he wouldn’t get up again.

Entering their office, not wanting to peer too closely, they
noticed Marilyn’s body, too, had stayed where she fell. That was a relief to
both of them.

“So, where’s your kit bag?” Daniel asked.

“By my desk, out the back near the servers.”

“Let’s go and get it then. Lead on.” Daniel followed Rob as
they walked along the corridor and around the corner to their open plan office.
Rob’s desk was on the far side, next to the server room door. They both stopped
dead. Mike Jones, one of their finance sales guys, was at his desk, looking
dishevelled, like someone else had dressed him. He was hitting the keys of his
laptop, staring blankly at the screen. Rob and Daniel crouched down behind a
desk, praying they hadn’t been seen.

“Jeez, where did he come from?” Rob burst out.

“God knows. What do you want to do?”

“Well, he didn’t see us. He’s just staring at his laptop.
God, how many times before have I told him not to drool on his laptop? It
invalidates warranty at the least.” He smiled wryly at Danny, who smiled back.
They were blooded now, all their secure and, frankly, innocent lives, up to
this point, had been negated by the violence they had recently perpetrated in
order to stay alive. A new set of morals was emerging. They were becoming
different, more elemental; civilisation was being stripped bare, exposing it as
the sham and thin veneer it actually was.

“If we walk calmly over to your desk, you just pick up the
bag and we’ll leave, he may not even notice us. He does seem rather determined
to check his email.” Daniel was peering over the top of the desk.

“Yeah, and if he notices us, we split up and confuse him. If
he’s one of those fast ones, he will go for one of us, and the other can get
him from behind. Sound about right?” Rob asked. Back home, in Colorado, he was
an avid hunter. His natural instinct was more attuned to this type of scenario
than most. Daniel was more than willing to put Rob’s theories and experience to
the test. He just hoped their weaponry was up to the job.

“Sure, let’s do it.”

Rising slowly, trying desperately not to make any sudden
movements, they quietly made their way to Rob’s desk. The new carpet muffled
their footsteps. So far, so good, Daniel thought. With a slight rustling sound,
Rob picked up his kit bag and they began to make their way back out. Mike
abruptly looked up from his ‘work’ and stared at them. His eyes, although
completely opaque, followed them as they tried to make their exit. The desire
for flight was almost overwhelming, it felt like there was a target painted on
their backs. Rob held onto Daniel’s arm with a fierce grip to stop him from
panicking.

“Stay calm,” he hissed at Daniel.

They continued to walk towards the door, every sense on high
alert for any sign of reaction. Mike lurched to his feet, his head tilting in
animal curiosity. Leaning forward, hands on the desk, he let out a gurgle,
which rose in intensity to a grating roar, spittle spraying over his computer.
They froze in their tracks. With panther-like speed, Mike leapt over the desk
and started to chase them.

“Now you can run!” Rob shouted. “Move!” They sprinted up the
hall towards the reception area, their goal now in sight. Without turning
around, they could hear Mike closing the gap between them. “Faster,” Rob
shouted, breathlessly. It felt like such a long distance to cover to safety; it
was a good thing they had chosen to leave their fire extinguishers downstairs;
with the added weight, one of them would be zombie fodder by now. Ahead of
them, they could see the glass reception doors, slightly ajar.

Slamming into them, the heavy doors flew open and they both
careened through the gap. They bounced back to their closed position, smashing
Mike in the face and knocking him backwards, blood pouring from a broken nose.
This time it was Daniel who reacted quickly, rushing over and sliding his desk
leg through the looped handles. It was just in time, as Mike crashed back into
the doors, deliberately this time, bloodied fingers trying to prise them apart.
They held. Rob looked up, breathless and flushed.

“Bugger me, that was close,” he muttered, his gasps for
breath preventing more words being spoken.

“You’re not fucking kidding, mate,” Daniel replied. An idea
came to him. “Get your poncey aftershave out, quick.”

Rob rummaged through the bag and found what he was after. A
bottle of YSL’s Fahrenheit.

“Nice choice,” Daniel said, seeing the label. He opened the
cap and saw it was a spray nozzle. “Excellent,” he said aloud, and began to
spray himself and the area around the door. Finishing, he handed it back to
Rob. “Quick, do yourself.” Rob did as instructed.

He walked over to Daniel and stood by him, only the glass
separating them from Mad Mike. Like a dog searching for a scent that would
please, the ex-salesman seemed to be sniffing the air, perhaps trying to
re-acquire the human odour that had set him off in the first place. Two rank,
sweaty, frightened bodies would do that.

Daniel turned to Rob, smiling. “I reckon this might just
work. I don’t think we can assume it will distract all of them, but it might
give us an edge trying to get to Cannon Street Station.” As he spoke, Mike
appeared to lose interest in them, not even their voices holding his attention.
With nothing to keep his interest, he turned around and shambled back down the
corridor to his workstation.

“I’d pay good money to see the content of the emails he’s
sending,” Rob said, watching the retreating form.

“I wouldn’t even want to begin to imagine,” Daniel replied.

Once Mike had disappeared around the far corner, Daniel
retrieved his desk leg and Rob locked up this time, ensuring no-one would enter
or leave the office again. Together they walked back down the stairs, exhausted.

On returning to the building’s foyer, they re-applied the
aftershave spray, doing each other’s backs and legs. It was important that no
surface could possibly emit pure human odours.

“This bottle is pretty much empty,” Rob said, putting what
was left back in the bag, which he slung over his shoulder. “Have you any idea
how much this stuff costs?”

“If that’s your biggest worry today, mate, I’d be grateful,”
Daniel replied, amused by Rob’s skewed priorities.

Ready to face the street, they walked to the main entrance
and looked out.

“Remember, make all your movement as smooth as possible, and
nothing sudden,” Rob said, stating the obvious, using conversation of any kind
to buoy up his courage before they committed themselves. The image of the
couple being brought down by the pack, as well as their more recent escape from
Mike, was still vivid in their minds. Who knew the salesman could move that
fast? He’d never shown evidence of athleticism in life. Ironic really, to be
fitter in death than in life.

Breathing deeply, summoning all their willpower, Rob and
Daniel stepped out into the street.
 
Looking straight ahead, trying to mimic the awkward movements of those
around them, they proceeded down the road. It was relatively empty, a few
people loitering to their left, and only one, a skinny woman, between them and
Cannon Street. They reached the end of Queen Street, and had just turned the
corner, when they walked slap into an ambling crowd of Infected, who were
audience to a larger, denser press, intent on something in their midst. Neither
man wanted to contemplate what had attracted the others to this spot.

In spite of their appearance, none of these creatures was
paying them more than cursory attention. They might not pick up many girls with
this much aftershave on, but at least it had the same effect on zombies. For
that, they were grateful.

Along the entire length of Cannon Street were abandoned
cars, dead bodies liberally strewn everywhere, some partially eaten, all adding
to the scene of horror. Some of the vehicles had rolled onto their sides,
blocking the street. A few had caught fire as fuel tanks had been ruptured,
black streamers of cloud rising into the clear morning sky. The scene was
reminiscent of Beirut in the seventies; a no-go area, hostility everywhere. In
some of the cars were passengers and drivers. All had turned; some of the
drivers, especially in the taxi cabs, were make-believe driving, much like
Mike’s attempts at work. Some memories of a former existence clearly remained
in these monsters, ingrained as they were, in the people who had earned a
living at it.

Ambling past the crowd, keeping to the less populated areas
of the road, they had made it most of the way to the station when it happened.

Standing on the pavement at the entrance of
Dowgate
Hill as it intersected with Cannon Street, they
heard it before they saw it; a black BMW seven series, revving at its max, came
barrelling down Cannon Street from the east. As it progressed, bodies flew off
the bonnet, arms and legs flailing, spewing aside like snow from a snow
plough’s blade. As it neared, they could see the driver, a middle-aged,
heavyset man, his face contorted with terror, frantically trying to maintain
control of the car, occasionally mounting the pavement to avoid colliding with
other vehicles. He continued down the road, leaving a trail of carnage in his
wake, heading straight towards Daniel and Rob. At the last moment, the duo
leapt sideways. The driver continued on his way, but was brought to a
standstill by the sheer density of the crowd Rob and Daniel had just
circumnavigated.

The panicked driver could be seen thrashing desperately
around the interior of the car, trying to prevent entry of the Infected.
Several gunshots were heard, two of the attackers fell, lifeless once more. The
swarm of Infected required more than the force of bullets a single gun could
deliver, and it was only moments before the poor bastard was overwhelmed,
screams of fear and pain reverberating from the car, an unholy sense of
satisfaction passing through the milling crowd that could even be detected by
the only two healthy people alive on the street.

Diving out of the way of the car had caused Rob and Daniel
to come to the attention of some of them. In spite of the mayhem all around,
some of the zombies had noticed their evasive action, and were approaching them
as they lay on the ground. Rather than experiment with the fact that the
aftershave may or may not still be working, they leapt to their feet and ran at
full pelt towards the station. Behind them came a strange keening, not
dissimilar to a pack of hunting dogs in full tongue.

As Rob and Daniel entered the concourse, they saw a half
closed metal shutter over the entrance to Boots the Chemist, directly in front
of them. With what would, from a third party perspective, look like perfect
examples of a slide to home base, they slid under the shutter. A solid stack of
product halted their progress abruptly, showering them in plastic bottles and
packages. Righting themselves quickly, together they yanked the shutter all the
way down. Three of pursuers slammed violently against the barrier, unable to
stop in time as they chased down their quarry, who, for the moment at least,
seemed to be safe.