The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle (8 page)

“Next time you have to consider something, run it by the
committee, will ya?”

The general, his red t-shirt and black hoodie immediately
recognisable, halted his cohort and stared back at Daniel’s rag-tag group.
Although his features remained in their death rictus, it was clear he was
amused by this confrontation; he definitely recognised Daniel. His white eyes
gleamed with defiance, and the upcoming victory he’d have over these breathers.
His crew were gurgling amongst each other, the noise increasing as they began
to feed off their leader’s excitement. Were they telepathic, Danny wondered?
There didn’t seem to be any other communication between them.

“What do you want?” Daniel asked.

“Are you trying to talk to them?” Rob asked, incredulous.

“Have you got a better idea?”

“Yeah, shoot the fucker.” The children had moved behind Rob
and Daniel, frightened by what they were seeing.

“There’s thirty of them. We might have enough ammo, we might
not. Let me talk to them, see what happens.”

“We know him,” piped a small voice from behind them. Sam had
spoken.

“Really? How?” Danny asked.

“Our dad used to work for him. I think he owed some money to
that man.”

“Do you know his name?” asked Danny, hopefully.

“Yes,” he replied, “Jason
sumfink
.”

“Jason? Okay, let’s give it a try.” He looked back up and
saw that ‘Jason’ was still standing there, waiting. “Jason,” he began, “what do
you want?”

The general, now known to be Jason, looked at him with a
little surprise, hearing his own name; clearly a connection had been made.
Understandably, it took a moment for the thought process to work; they were
dead, after all. Slowly he raised his right arm; Rob and Daniel, thinking he
was about to give a command to charge, raised their rifles, ready.

The arm extended out, fist clenching, leaving one finger
pointing. And then Daniel’s blood ran cold. Following the direction of the
finger, he looked behind him and realised that it was the boy they wanted.

“Why? If you have a problem with the father, then I have to
tell you, he’s dead.” He looked back at Sam, and then caught a movement further
behind them. About twenty yards back, Les, the children’s father, approached
slowly, the front of his shirt red with drying blood, the hole where the
bullets had entered, evident. Penny let out a scream as she saw the apparition
approach. Sam made to run to him, but Rob caught the boy just in time.

“He’s dead, kid. That’s not him.” Rob argued. Sam struggled
some more, and then realised what Rob had said was true.

Seeing no immediate threat, Daniel turned back to Jason. Now
he could see that the dead man was focused upon the father, not the son at all.

“Everyone. Step sideways. Come on. I think we’re getting
between these folk, and their unfinished business.” Daniel could see a way out
for the living, and made sure they took it.

Slowly they edged their way along the path that followed the
waterway, stopping when about twenty feet away. Some of Jason’s group crossed
the bridge, with him at their head. Les took one last look at his offspring, a
glimmer of recognition remaining on his face; turning back he lurched towards Jason
and his men, intent on attacking. The general was a cheetah, and his reactions
were lightning fast. He swung a machete, not noticed before, that had been in
his left hand all along, and cleanly slashed at his attacker. The blade drove
through Les’ chest and right down to the pelvis. Danny and Rob pulled the
children around so they would not witness this brutal slaying. The father’s
mouth kept moving in silent words, as the second swing severed his head from
the shoulders. It rolled to the edge of the waterway and fell in, surprise, or
not, registering on its face.

Jason looked around at the cowering group of living, stared
for a moment at the children and, clearly deciding not to exact his revenge on
them as well, walked back over the bridge, his men following. Without so much
as a backwards glance, they walked off towards Lewisham Station.

The children ran over to the body and just stood there,
emotionally drained and staring at his severed, inert form. Daniel and Rob hung
back.

“He came back to life. I know he was dead,” Rob said
bewildered.

“I know. I buried him.” They realised the implications, you
weren’t dead until your head was destroyed or removed. That’s what the general
had done.

“Who the hell was that guy?”

“I don’t know, but I’d guess he was some sort of gang leader
in life. And so he is in death. He seems to remember things from his previous
existence, maybe like the debt. Maybe it’s simpler than that and they just
remember feelings like hatred and revenge.”

They waited until the gang had gone from view before they
ventured over the bridge to the road.

“These bloody shoes had better be worth it,” Rob said,
looking around, the recent encounter highlighting new unknowns about their
common enemy.

“I agree,” was all Daniel could think to say. He took them
around to a smaller exit he knew of, through which they could enter the
shopping complex, in the hope of meeting fewer, or preferably no zombies before
he had changed shoes. Alas, a slower zombie began following them; it was a
little old lady. Neither had the heart to kill her, or re-kill her, whatever
the correct term was for what they had been doing, so they pushed her back out
into the street, and closed the swing door, jamming it with a rubbish bin. She
pushed at the door for a little while before giving up.

They walked past the smaller market stalls that were set up
near the entrance, one of them a butcher’s.

“Hold on a minute, guys,” Rob said as he dashed inside. A
moment later he came out with two machete-sized cleavers, and handed one to
Daniel. “When I saw that gang and what they were carrying, I thought it was
time we armed ourselves for close or silent fighting.”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Daniel said, eyeing his cleaver
thoughtfully. “I still think we ought to have made our peace if we get that up
close and personal.”

God, Daniel could be a real prick sometimes. Go in a corner.
With my heart-throb in the room? Not bloody likely, I’d rather face the
torments on the other side of the door. So went Janet’s thought process
following her text session with hubby, not really understanding what he had,
and was still, going through.

Now, however, she was beginning to worry about him, what was
he doing right now? She was frightened for him; in spite of his lack of thought
on occasion, she wouldn’t be with anyone else. Blokes were lucky, they were
plumbed for alfresco or oddball situations, and didn’t seem so bothered about
bodily functions or smells. One of her obsessions, and it certainly explained
their ultra-clean house, and the fact that the washing machine was on all the
time (or so Daniel complained), was the thought that someone might think her
less than clean. This obsession had seemingly come from no specific incident or
place in her life, it was just something that developed over time, perhaps
starting as a result of time spent in the halls of residence at university,
where they had met, oh so long ago.

“Paul, I really have to go to the Ladies’, right now,” she
implored. Paul’s unrequited love for her meant that he would do or risk
anything for her, especially when it now involved being a knight in shining
armour.

“Okay, let’s have a look out and see what we can do.” He
thought for a moment, before getting up. “There’s an area in the staff room
where we make our tea and coffee; there’s a tap there, so water is easy to
get.”

“Where are the loos?” she asked. Although she had been to
the library innumerable times, she’d never before needed the facilities.

“They’re right down the other end, in the area that adjoins
the rec centre.”

“That far?” Janet said, appalled. That really was a risk.

“I can think of an alternative,” he said, cautiously.

“Not the corner again,” she said, looking askance at him.

“No. There’s loads of paper towels in the staff room. If we
got them, you could go into one of the other reading rooms, providing it’s
empty, of course.”

“Oh, God. This really is a nightmare,” she bemoaned. Her
idea of roughing it was a tent with at least four or five stars over the
entrance, preferably in a warm country.

“It’s a bloody sight safer than going all the way to the
toilets. And that’s assuming there isn’t one of
them
in there.”

She nodded in resignation. “I guess you’re right,” she
responded.

Standing up and carefully peering out of their safe room,
Paul could see no-one, as long as he didn’t take into account the victim of
that weird bloke earlier. He tried not to look in that direction, but the
eviscerated corpse fed his fascination. His attention caught, he looked closer.
Did the boy’s head just move?

“I think he’s still alive,” Paul whispered to Janet, who was
sitting still to reduce her desire for relief.

“He can’t be. What that bloke did to him, no way.”

“But his head is moving.”

“What?” In spite of her needs, Janet stood and peered
through the glass door. “Jesus!” she exclaimed, “how is that possible? He’s
lost most of his stomach, and all of his throat.”

“We’ve got to get across to him, help him.” Paul mumbled.

“Paul, have you got a first aid kit that can handle
evisceration? A really big Band-Aid, perhaps?” she paused. “Sorry, I’m being
flippant. There’s no way he’s alive, it’s just not possible.”

“And yet…” he left the sentence unfinished.

Janet flopped back down, immediately regretting that move,
so crossed her legs.

“Right, first things first,” she said. “Let’s get some
paper. Then, when I can think straight, we can do the rest.”

“Okay, you wait here. I’ll get the paper and bring it to
you. You can then use the room next door, I don’t think anyone’s there.”

“Fine.” She grabbed his sleeve, “thanks for helping, Paul. If
I’m a bitch sometimes, it’s just ‘
cos
I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said gently, his heart racing from that merest
physical contact. “Back in a sec.”

Paul stood and, removing the chair from under the handle,
opened the door slowly, checking blind spots, ensuring no-one was lying in
wait. All clear. On tip-toe, he stole from one bookcase to another, getting
ever nearer the staff room. He ducked into the room and disappeared from view,
Janet peering after him, anxious that he would be safe. A minute passed.

A scream of anger erupted, followed by the noise of breaking
glass and the terrible sound of a body being thrown across the room. All Janet
could see was a vague shadow, indicating a fight between two people. One of
them seemed to raise a solid object over their head and bring it down onto the
other. Both disappeared from sight. Not a sound. It was Janet’s heart’s turn to
race, hers in fear of the unknown.

A little movement behind the staff room opaque glass wall
caught her attention, someone was walking backwards and forwards. Finally, the
staff door opened and, Paul emerged, a forced smile on his face. He held a
bottle of water in one hand and a wad of paper in the other. As he drew nearer,
she could see he had been bitten on his right forearm. Throwing safety to the
wind, Janet ran out to help him.

“Come on,” she said taking his good arm and relieving him of
the water bottle. They went back into the reference room, and once more secured
the door with the chair.

“What happened?” she asked, her needs forgotten for the
moment.

“It was Simon,” he explained. Janet gave him a blank look;
she had no idea who he was talking about. “The head librarian. Complete
bastard, I’ve never liked him. He was in there, when the hell he turned up I
don’t know. At first I thought he was working; he was facing away from me,
looking over some papers. I said hello, and he turned around,” he paused,
wincing and clutching his arm, “that’s when I knew he was one of the crazies
.
His eyes. He came at me, really fast.
We fell over and fought some. Then I managed to get something heavy, a
Debrett’s
I think. Smacked him on the head. He fell over
and stayed still; I think I killed him, there was blood everywhere.”

Gently Janet helped him sit down on the floor, and relieved
him of the paper as well. The nasty-looking bite on his forearm was bleeding,
so she placed a wad of the paper towels over it. That wasn’t a hugely hygienic
thing to do, she thought, but the blood flow needed to be stopped somehow. If
this Simon bloke was infected, then all they could do was hope it wasn’t
contagious. There was no way they would be able to get emergency services out
to help him; she’d tried 999 several times, and only ever received an engaged
tone. Seeing the paper towels on his arm were now drenched, she replaced them
with more in a bid to stop the leakage. Finally it appeared to have the desired
effect, although the bite mark was standing proud of the flesh around it.

“I’ll be back in a minute, needs must,” she said and pecked
him on the cheek. “Thanks Paul.”

The pleasure he derived from that single kiss would last him
the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, back in Lewisham, Daniel and his merry little
band had found a Footlocker shop and secured the glass front doors leading to the
main vestibule. So far, once in the mall, all they’d encountered were some slow
movers; they were easy to get past, and lost interest after realising they
couldn’t capture their intended prey. No fast ones in here, at least none
they’d encountered.

The staff in the shop had either abandoned the store, been
turned or had been savaged horribly to death. They found two that had met this
end and, in spite of the fact it was a cool winter’s day, because of the heat
in the shop, and the year round availability of food in the mall, flies were
beginning to buzz around, swarming black and shiny on the gory carcasses.

“Let’s get this done, quickly,” Rob implored; the stench was
becoming overpowering.

Daniel worked his way along the shelf until he found his
favourite trainers: Normal Balance. Looking at the item code, he wandered out
back. How do they work this, he wondered. In front of him, piled up to the
ceiling, were branded boxes, each one bar-coded. Working his way along the
shelf, the numbers were beginning to make sense, their logic simple. At last
clarity struck, and finally the right trainers were in front of him. That’s the
one, he smiled, and the right size.

Grabbing a box, he turned to go. Standing in front of him,
between him and the exit, was the biggest man he’d ever seen. As wide as the
man was tall; at least that was the impression he gave, his white eyes glared
down at Daniel. Every exposed piece of flesh was covered in tattoos, his waxy
skin doing nothing to enhance the designs. In fact, the veins now showing
through his skin obliterated the finer elements completely, causing an unholy
mess the length of his arms. His clothes were in tatters; he looked like The
Hulk, only not so friendly, and not so green. Several cut marks decorated his
chest and arms; it looked like it had been a battle to get this far. Where the
hell had he come from, Daniel wondered? They had looked around the shop on
entering, and found nothing other than the corpses, and he was absolutely
certain this guy would be hard to miss.

“Hello,” he tried to speak to this mass of dead meat; it had
worked before. Nothing at all, if anything the creature appeared to lean
closer, the smell hitting Daniel hard. Slowly, he let his right hand drop to
the pistol. The thing caught the movement and roared its defiance; it began to
lumber forward, not fast but this wasn’t a big area. Daniel pulled the pistol,
and quickly squeezed off a round that merely grazed the monster’s head. Firing
twice more in rapid succession, he was bang on target, one bullet removing the
creature’s left eye, the other travelling up through its mouth, exiting the top
of his head. Falling forward, he landed on top of Daniel, who was now pinned
down under this mass of cold meat, all the while brain essence from its gaping
wounds dripping clammily onto Daniel’s neck. He’d barely touched one of these
creatures up to now, and was surprised at how icy the flesh had become. No way
these things were alive, not in the true sense.

“Danny?” Rob’s voice came through the mist forming in front
of his eyes as he struggled to breathe. Everything was going dark.

Slap! Daniel felt a stinging sensation on his cheek. He
opened his eyes to see Rob’s face, and the two kids standing behind him.

“Hey, you’re back. That’ll teach you to choose your playmates
more carefully! He was a big
sonofabitch
, wasn’t he?”
Rob smiled, and helped Daniel to his feet. It had taken Rob some time to get
the massive corpse off his friend’s chest. The confined space of the store
room, and the fact that they had been buried under falling shoe boxes hadn’t
helped. “Did you get your shoes?”

Daniel looked around, still a little dazed. “They were in my
hand when he came along. Which reminds me, how the bloody hell did he get in
here unseen?”

“Good question. You get your shoes, I’ll have a look
around.” Rob wandered off in search of another entrance.

Daniel retrieved his trainers and, taking them out to the
shop, he sat down to try them on. A small collection of slow movers had
gathered outside the glass door, standing and staring inwards; Daniel’s
movements were attracting their attention.

Rob came back in, explaining how he’d found another entrance
out back, probably used for stock collections. He, too, saw the group of dead
loitering outside.

“Perhaps we ought to leave the back way. What do you think?”
he asked.

“Let’s have a look.” Daniel walked to the glass doors, and
peered around outside. The walkers became excited by his presence, and they
crowded closer to the door. Looking further afield, he noticed a few hanging
back, almost out of sight, their movements small but quick. The look on their
faces was almost furtive, calculating, as if they were hiding something. “I
think they’re setting a trap for us.”

“What?” Rob peered out. The kids came over. They, too,
wanted to see what the problem was. The slow ones became quite agitated at all
this warm flesh standing just the other side of the glass, out of reach. “I see
what you mean, they look like they’re fast ones, those cheetahs.”

“Sure as hell looks like they’re thinking, certainly enough
to hunt,” Daniel said. Behind him he heard whimpering, and turned to see Penny
crying softly, her eyes wide with fear. “Oh, Penny. I’m sorry. Don’t worry,
we’re smarter than them,” he used his most convincing adult voice. “They won’t
catch us, we’ll find another way out.”

“In the meantime, let’s move away from the shop front, guys.
No need to get them all excited about the prospect of an early lunch.” Rob
walked away, Daniel followed. After a moment, the children ran after them, not
wanting to be separated from the adults. Rob drew Daniel aside to talk in
private. “If we get chased with these kids in tow, we won’t make it.”

“What are you saying, Rob?”

“I’m saying that everything we do has to be planned from
here on in, unlike before, where we could just wing it.”

“Okay, have you an idea of how to get out of here?” Danny
asked. “I presume it involves the back door you found?”

“Yes, it does. That man mountain must have come in through the
back door, so I presume there’s a way clear of the centre through that same
door. I’ve secured it for now, but we should get moving, before more of them
are attracted to our presence.”

“What if they’re smart and already know of it? Perhaps their
tactics are to drive us out the back by showing themselves at the front?”

“Do you really think they’re that smart?” Rob asked, the
quizzical look on his face indicating that he had not considered that as an
option. It was an unnerving idea, upping the ante rather more than they had
hoped.

“Haven’t got a
frickin
’ clue, but
as you say, we need to plan for all contingencies. Anyway, in the end, it
doesn’t matter if and what they’re planning, we have to go. So it’s more about
picking an exit, and working with what we’ve got.”

“Are the kids’ shoes up to allowing them to run as fast as
they can?” Rob wondered.

“You know, I hadn’t noticed. Let’s go check.”

They walked back to the children and looked down at their
feet. Their shoes had clearly seen better days. They may have had a father, but
it was clear that footwear was the bottom of his list of priorities.

“Hey, kids,” Danny began, “Would you like some new shoes?”

Penny and Sam beamed at this offer, and Daniel was pleased
to see in them an emotion other than sadness or fear.

“Right, choose something. They can’t be too fancy, they must
enable you to run fast. This isn’t about fashion.”

By the time he’d finished the sentence, Penny and Sam were
already looking over the shelves, Penny gravitating towards some girlie-looking
trainers, with little pink horse shapes on them. Sam went straight for the
basketball type and before long, both had chosen a style. Another twenty
minutes trying to find a pair in the chaotic store-room that fitted, and they
were ready. Rob had been monitoring the front of the shop, hoping the creatures
out there would lose interest, and move off in search of other prey. They
hadn’t. If anything there seemed to be more of them.

“Before I locked up the back exit,” Rob said, “I noticed
there was a van parked out back. I’ve searched for keys in here, but haven’t
found any. Before we all go out, I think one of us has to go and see if the
keys are in it.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, trying not to be heard
by the children, “and to check it is all clear. You worried me with that
comment you made earlier about them planning.”

“It was just a hunch, I’ve no proof of that.”

“Well, you may be right and I think we need to be sure. Do
ya want to toss a coin to see who goes out?”

“No, you can go.” Daniel said, smiling.

“Bastard,” Rob replied.

“Joking. I think it’s my turn, you’ve been on guard enough.”

“If you say so. I’ll cover you from the doorway.”

“Right, let’s do this thing.” With that, Daniel pushed ahead
of the kids while Rob followed. The exit was a steel wicket type, set within in
a larger roller door, clearly designed to take shop goods inwards. Slowly he
opened the smaller door, making as little noise as possible. The yard was empty
of anyone or anything moving; just a couple of bodies littering the area, and
no signs of life, undead or otherwise. The van was backed up to the roller
door, the driver originally intent on delivering to the shops. The cab’s door
was closed and, with rifle slung and pistol at the ready, Daniel edged his way
towards the front of the vehicle. Rob was covering him from the doorway, the kids
peering past him, watching the action.

Daniel tried the driver’s side and was pleasantly surprised
to find it unlocked. It was a good start, at least. Peering in and seeing the
keys swinging slightly in the ignition slot, he opened the door quickly, and
jumped in. Swinging his pistol around, aiming towards the back of the vehicle,
he was ready for anything. As his eyes adjusted to the dark interior, he could
make out a man crouching in the back, probably the driver, judging by his
uniform jacket. The man was gnawing on a severed leg, blood all over his face.
A vicious bite was clearly visible on his arm, exposed bone and sinews shining
wetly in the gaping wound. Looking up at Daniel with a mouth full of flesh, it
emitted a gurgling scream of indignation. Dropping the leg, it threw itself at
Daniel, whose trigger finger was quicker. The inert form of the zombie crashed
against the back of the seats, head burst open with the close range shot, and
fell harmlessly and wetly to the floor.

Worried by the noise the creature had made, as well as the
gun shot, Daniel looked around agitatedly, just in time to see a fast one run
around the corner towards him. A rifle shot cracked and Rob ended this threat.
Sounds of feet running, moans and screams began to get louder, coming towards
them.

“Come on, get in the van. They keys are here!” Daniel
called. He pushed the passenger door open for them, and slammed his own.
Needing no further encouragement, Rob and the kids piled in as Daniel started
the engine. With both doors slammed shut, the van lurched towards the exit.
Suddenly the entrance was filled by zombies, fast and slow.

Their way forward was blocked; it had been an ambush after
all. The crowd surged at the van, and the sound of fists and hands beating the
sides of the vehicle became deafening. The side door slid open, and some of the
creatures tried to enter. Rob was quicker, though, and well placed rounds flung
the corpses backwards onto the tarmac. Still more clambered over one another as
they tried to enter. More shots rang out as Daniel joined the killing, taking
up the slack as Rob clambered into the back. Slipping on the remains of the
driver, he nearly lost his footing while reaching for the door, to pull it
closed.

“Drive!” Rob screamed above the noise, as he pumped round
after round into the faces of each zombie as they tried to gain entry.

Daniel put his foot to the floor, and with the engine
racing, the vehicle ploughed into the crowd, bowling most aside and crushing a
few under its wheels as it bounced out onto the street. The kids squealed with
fright as the van rocked back and forth, travelling over the bodies of
slow-moving dead. A few cheetahs ran alongside, one trying to climb onto the
bonnet. It slipped and fell under, causing the vehicle to jolt as it passed
over its body.

“Put your seat belts on, kids,” Daniel instructed, “this
could be a bumpy ride.” Penny was rigid with terror; Sam put his arm around his
sister, trying to comfort her, all the while trying to reach around her and
secure the seatbelt. They raced up to the main road, and screeching around the
roundabout, headed towards Catford. Rob finally slammed the door closed, and
flicked the lock to prevent further possible catastrophe.

Moderating his speed, fearful of crashing and leaving them
on foot once more, Daniel weaved his way around parked and abandoned cars,
trying to avoid the walkers as much as possible, partly from a sense of
humanity, but mostly because he knew the van wouldn’t keep soaking up damage to
the front; it wasn’t designed to do that. At this rate they would be at the
library in less than half an hour, much to Daniel’s relief. They could ditch
this transport as well; at the moment the kids weren’t aware of the corpse
lying behind them.

As they drove up the incline leading to Eltham High Street,
the dead began walking deliberately out to greet the machine, which was working
hard to maintain speed up the hill. They were fuelled by fascination and
hunger. Every time one connected with the front, the van lost a small amount of
speed. By the time they had negotiated the chaos of pranged cars at the
intersection next to the old church, they were doing no more than ten miles an
hour, enough to avoid the slow ones, but one or two faster ones were gaining on
them, eager for a meal.