The Undead. The First Seven Days (47 page)

  Howie felt the heat in the vehicle as he climbed into the rear to go up through the sentry hole and he had opened the doors to let some air in. He roused some of the sleeping men and told them to sleep outside. The recruits were sweating profusely, but were so exhausted they just slept on, until he poked and prodded them and half dragged them out
into the cooler air, fearing they would become dehydrated.
  Dave roused and saw what was happening, he nodded to Howie to show he understood and then climbed out of the front cabin and onto the top of the vehicle and lay down on his back; asleep within seconds.
  Howie watched from the sentry point, turning round slowly and making use of a high-powered light that was connected by a lead to a power supply within the Saxon. As he watched, he thought of his mother and father and the sacrifice they must have made trying to come for him. He had no evidence of their demise and his greatest fear was that he would see them as zombies and either have to destroy them or be eaten by them. They might still be alive, but Howie knows this is very unlikely. The only family he has left is his sister, Sarah, living in London. Howie’s parents had left him a note, saying that they had spoken to Sarah and she was safe in her apartment.
 
The last four days had been spent trying to get to London to rescue Sarah; his home town was gone and so were all the other places he had seen so far. A message he had heard from a radio broadcast had told any survivors to head for the Forts on the South Coast and to stay away from London. Howie knew that getting through London would be impossible without some serious assistance so he and Dave had travelled to Salisbury to find something big, heavy and armoured to get through the massed hordes that must be waiting there. There is no way of contacting Sarah and telling her to sit tight and wait; he can only hope she is being smart and staying hidden.
  Howie looks down at the recruits sleeping; still thinking of them as recruits makes him smile a little. They are just boys really, none of them older than eighteen, and they had been sent to join the Territorial Army by a new government scheme to give young unemployed people some experience of life and instil discipline in them. Thirty lads had only just arrived at Salisbury Army Centre on Friday, when the outbreak started; excited and full of anticipation. Now there were only nine left, and they were willing to listen and learn from Dave.

  None of them had to go with Howie and Dave to London, but they knew that by staying together, they had a greater chance of survival.

A groaning noise alerts Howie and he tunes in, listening intently into the night. He flicks the high-powered flashlight on and sweeps round in a slow arc. A zombie is crawling towards them. Howie aims the GPMG then pauses, knowing that the noise will wake them all up and possibly draw more of the undead to them. Howie clambers up through the hole and drops down to the ground. He then reaches into the cabin and pulls out his beloved axe, and walks slowly to the zombie.
  The undead is crawling pitifully slowly and his legs look mangled and crushed, but still he works his way forward, groaning with anticipation at the thought of biting into new flesh.

  Howie crouches down, off to the side, and watches the zombie turn and start towards him. The flesh on the face and arms is very grey with a sickening pallor, the stench of rotting flesh oozes off the zombie and makes Howie pull his head back in disgust. The eyes are still red and bloodshot and Howie notices that the hands are cut down to the bones, from having to drag itself along the rough ground. Howie stands up and shakes his head at the disgusting creature. He takes the axe and steps forward, raising it high and then sweeps down directly onto the neck, to remove the head. As the axe flies through the air, the zombie looks at Howie and makes a noise that terrifies him.

  Howie jumps back with a shout as the axe strikes, missing the neck and cleaving into the head. He drops the axe and falls back onto the ground, sitting still and staring at the now dead undead.

  Dave comes running up and looks down at the cadaver, and then at Howie.
‘He said… my name,’ Howie stammers.

________________________________________________________

Sarah wakes up slowly as the bright sunlight streams through the smart black blinds covering her bedroom window.

  Dust particles dance and shimmer in the air from her soft breath.

  Long, dark, strands of hair spread out across the expensive silk sheets of the king size, double bed.

  Sarah sits up slowly and looks at her reflection in the mirrored doors of the built-in wardrobes. She looks intently, with a look of concentrated determination which slowly morphs into sadness.
  With a long sigh, she shimmies over the bed and stands up; stretching her arms and legs out. Sarah then walks into the en-suite bathroom and reaches for the light switch; but the electricity went out a couple of days ago and she curses herself for forgetting.

  She checks the cold water tap and is pleasantly surprised that clear water still gushes out. She starts to brush her teeth and looks longingly at the large glass-sided shower cubicle in the middle of the room, then sniffs at her armpits and pulls her head away from the stale smell of body odour.

  There are pans and pots on every surface; each filled with water and covered with cling film and aluminium foil. Sarah knew that once the electricity went out, she would have to preserve her supplies and quickly filled every available receptacle from her small apartment. Even the kitchen sink was full of clean water and she hasn’t flushed the toilet for a couple of days now. The warm weather has meant that she was sweating lightly nearly all the time, and especially at night, when the air was so still and hot. Her tight black vest top, clings to her body from moisture.
  Sarah has been washing with cotton cloths and only using the water sparingly, but now, after several days, she longs for a shower. The air is so warm and humid and she can just imagine the cold water spraying onto her sticky body.
  ‘Sod it,’ she says to herself and quickly strips her clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

  Naked she steps into the cubicle and turns the dial; a powerful jet of freezing water pummels into her skin, taking her breath away and making her squeal. The cold water is pleasant torture and she soaks herself, watching as goose pimples come up on her arms and legs. She quickly scrubs her body with soap and washes her hair, turning the shower off as the last of the bubbles is rinsed away.
  She steps out and takes the thick, cotton towel hanging from a hook; she walks back in front of the bathroom mirror and stands naked, holding the towel down at her side, enjoying the feeling of the warm air, drying her wet skin.

   After a few minutes, she is dressed in jeans and a baggy tee-shirt and finally goes into the lounge area - a small room with a kitchenette on one end. The apartment was subsided by her employer, one of the perks of working for a large, corporate bank. The downside was that she had to respond to work whenever she was called, and that was quite often during the recession. But even a tiny apartment like hers, in a swish block, would cost a fortune - far more than she could ever afford.
  Sarah finally plucks up the courage and steps to the large windows, pulling the blinds up. She slides back the single patio door and steps out onto the tiny balcony that overlooks most of Central London and down onto the streets below. Her heart sinks as she watches the thousands and thousands of zombies crammed into the streets, as far as she can see. Even the road is not visible, because they are so densely packed. The only times she has seen crowds like this are for huge Royal Weddings or the London Marathon.

  But these aren’t crowds waiting for a glimpse of someone famous; these are hordes of rotting, dirty, filthy zombies that want to eat human flesh. Sarah shudders and steps back inside. She closes the door but then opens it slightly, in defiance. They are down there and, as far as she is aware, they haven’t tried to climb up to her, and the apartment needs fresh air.
  She walks over to the fridge, and again forgets that the power is gone. It is now empty as she has eaten all of the perishable food and is now on to the tinned goods.
  ‘Sod it,’ she says again and steps over to the wall cupboard, she closes her eyes and reaches in. She knows there are some tinned goods inside and she has been making herself select them at random, so that she doesn’t just eat the nicer things first.

  She feels for a tin and quickly pulls it out; holding it in front of her face as she slowly opens her eyes and peeks down at the tin of… tuna.
  ‘Sod it!’

  She opens the tin, takes a fork and sits down on the sofa to slowly much through the dry fish. Giving up within two mouthfuls and going back to the cupboard, she mooches through the various bottles of sauces and condiments, deciding on an almost empty bottle of barbeque sauce. She shakes the thick liquid down to the cap end, before squirting it over the rest of the tuna and mixing it in. She starts eating again, and whilst doing so, her mind travels back to Friday.

A trendy wine bar was what Howie would call it, and Sarah smiles at the memory of her brother making jokes about her whole life being “…a trendy gym, a trendy apartment and a trendy social life”. Sarah knew though, that success in her line of work depended on being able to socialise, or network. So she made contacts within all of the communities of the financial district.

Friday evening was the same as any other; calls were made, emails sent, text messages put out and the
in crowd
descended into Central London for drinks and Tapas at Charlie’s, which was owned and ran by the sleazy Charlie himself. He was always trying it on with the female staff and customers, despite his wife working there. Sleek black minimalist furniture and exposed wooden flooring. Pictures of pebbles and stones in various poses finished the scene and Sarah knew that it was stomach churning, fake and contrite, but business was business and it had to be done. So she laughed at the right times and gradually made her way through the crowds with her colleagues. A simple black evening dress was all that she wore; simple, elegant and classic was how her close friends said she looked - which was exactly the look that she aimed for. Too many of the female financiers showed way too much flesh out of the office and it just didn’t feel appropriate to her. Her Dad had always said: “…if you want to be taken seriously, you have to act seriously”. And his words had stuck throughout her short career.
  Younger than Howie by two years, she had moved to London at the tender age of 23 and had been here for two years now. The shine of the city had already worn off and Sarah knew it wouldn’t be long before she wanted out of it. Sarah had seen the desperation of the older people, clinging to their power and fortunes and trying to stay with the in crowd all of the time; this just made her sad and more resolved to get out when she could.
  Smoking saved her life and it’s not often that people can say that.

Sarah had been addicted for years and controlled the habit with having the odd couple of cigarettes at lunchtime and then after work, but so many of the young financiers were health freaks - using the companies gyms and clubs during lunch hours or after work. They called it, “… having a sesh”. Sarah was amazed at how many of them used cocaine and did so in public; but would then shun the smokers, calling them dirty and cancerous.
  Taking the opportunity to nip outside, and just managing to avoid the grope being offered by Charlie, she talked with her co-conspirator and smoking colleague, Lisa. They chatted as they walked around the side of the building into a quieter side street and both lit up; giggling like schoolgirls, inhaling the smoke and relaxing with idle gossip.
  ‘Well, that Jonathon tried it on with me last night, I just knew he would, the dirty bugger,’ Lisa said.
  ‘He did? What did you do?’ Sarah replied.
  ‘What do you think I did? I told him that I’m a strict Catholic girl and he should bugger off!’ Lisa said in a very serious tone, then cackled evilly.
  ‘Oh, you didn’t - you naughty girl,’ Sarah laughed, waiting for the juicy details of the illicit encounter.
  A scream came from the front of the trendy wine bar and it made them both jump and they darted forward to look round the edge of the building. Just in time to see Charlie standing there in his expensive designer jeans, brown boots and tucked in black shirt - with his podgy stomach pushing against the material.

A very pretty girl with long, blonde hair was shouting loudly at him as he backed away with his hands raised up in front of him, palms facing her, acquiescent and trying to
shush
her
  ‘YOU FILTHY BASTARD, YOU GRABBED MY ARSE,’ the woman screamed at Charlie and slapped him hard across the face, causing his perfectly styled messy hair to get dishevelled. Charlie backed away and begged the woman to keep her voice down. She became angrier and started throwing more haymakers at him. One of large bouncers stepped forward and restrained the woman, pulling her back.
  ‘YOU CRAZY BITCH,’ Charlie shouted and ordered the bouncer to take her down the street.
  ‘He had that coming, the sleazy pig,’ Sarah said.
  ‘Oh, he’s disgusting - he’s always grabbing my arse and trying to squeeze my tits,’ replied Lisa.
  ‘I don’t know why we keep coming here, it’s always the same people and the same thing, and that dirty sleazebag trying to grope anything that moves; he’s a sex pest.’ Sarah said.
  ‘You know what I heard, he just got back from his brother’s wedding in Greece and got off with the bride’s best mate and now he keeps going down to see her, right under his poor wife’s nose.’ Lisa said.
  ‘Someone should report him to the police, that’s got to be sexual assault or something.’ Sarah said. ‘Oh… hang on, it’s not quite over yet.’
A well-built man, with a bald head, came storming up the street, straight towards Charlie who was now talking to his two bouncers. As the man got closer, he pointed directly at Charlie.
  ‘Did you grab my girlfriend’s arse? You dirty fucker,’ the man shouts as he gets closer.