The Undead. The First Seven Days (48 page)

Charlie quickly starts stepping back, hiding behind his bouncers. One of them moves forward and extends an arm out to the man; a clear warning to stay back. The man knocks it out of the way and quickly punches the bouncer in the face, causing him to fly back and knock Charlie into a set of tables; upsetting the drinks all the over customers. The second bouncer moves in to grab the angry man but gets head butted and sent flying too. Charlie is on his feet and moving backwards, away from the oncoming angry bald man.
  ‘Please mate, take it easy, calm down, I didn’t do anything, it’s all a misunderstanding.’ Charlie pleads, seeing his two bouncers down on the ground, clutching at their faces.
  Sarah and Lisa are laughing hard, watching Charlie beg the man to stop and backing away into more tables and knocking more drinks over. The bald man lunges at Charlie and grabs him by the front of his shirt and throws him down onto the floor. Sarah, Lisa and a half dozen other previously groped women all cheer at the sight of the sex pest getting his just rewards. The angry man glances round at the sound of cheering and smiles awkwardly at first, confused about the reaction.
  One woman shouts out, to cheers and whistles: ‘Go on then, have him - he’s grabbed all of us, the dirty beast.’
  The bald man smiles at the women and bows his head, before walking intently towards Charlie as he scurries away on his backside, one hand up in the air, still trying to calm the angry man.
  ‘Please mate, I didn’t do anything, you touch me and I’ll get the law on you, there’s CCTV here.’ The man bends down and pulls Charlie to his feet by the front of his clothes and punches him once in the face.

The women erupt in cheers and start applauding. People pile out of the main door to watch the action and more join in by clapping. The man hits him again in the face and the crowd cheer even louder, someone shouts “TWO”, and the man pounds him again. The crowd shouts “THREE”.

The man isn’t hitting him hard, but hard enough to stun Charlie and humiliate him. The bouncers are back on their feet now and starting forward to help their boss. A woman steps out from the crowd and stands in front of them.
  ‘DON’T DO NOTHING – HE GOT THIS COMING.’ The woman shouts at the bouncers in a strong Eastern European accent.
  ‘That’s the wife then,’ Lisa laughs as the crowd shouts “FOUR”.
  A loud shout erupts from over the road and Sarah looks over to see another fight taking place.
  ‘Jesus, this place is getting worse, look at them going for it.’

Lisa stares over and they both watch as a man is being attacked on the ground by another man. Some other people run over and start to pull the man away, by grabbing at his shoulders and body. The man is thrashing about and appears to be trying to force his face into the other man’s neck. The attacker then springs up and launches himself at one of the rescuers.
  ‘Oh my god, did you see that?’ Sarah asks.
  ‘Yeah, that’s awful,’ Lisa replies.
  There is a big ruckus going on now across the road as more people try to subdue the crazy man. He refuses to stop and keeps lunging his head at more people, biting them and causing them jump backwards. The man who was on the floor sits up after a few minutes and slowly gets to his feet.
  ‘At least he’s all right, I thought he was dead,’ Lisa said.
  The man gets to his feet and suddenly lunges forward and bites into the neck of another man. Screams and shouts erupt and the bald man, holding the now bloodied Charlie, stops pounding and looks over at the mass brawl taking place. He lets Charlie go, who slumps to the ground whimpering. The crowd are all silent now.

Some people are running into the melee, and some are trying to escape.
  One woman, dressed in a smart, black, business suit staggers out of the confusion, clutching her neck; blood spurting out between her fingers. She staggers across the road and falls, and the bald man tries to catch her and lower her to the floor. The man shouts for something to stop the bleeding and presses his already bloody hands into the side of her neck.

Women are screaming and men are running about in panic.
  The fighting gets worse and more people get involved, until nearly the whole street is brawling.

Sarah starts to take in some of the details, despite not being experienced in street fights, but even she  understands that biting is not a normal action.
  ‘We should get out of here,’ Lisa murmurs to Sarah.
  ‘What? Christ, yes, let’s go,’ Sarah responds, shaking herself.
  Sarah and Lisa start down the main road, but quickly see that the road ahead is also blocked by people fighting, they turn round and try to go the other way, but that too is blocked.
  ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Lisa shouts.
  ‘I don’t know… quick, down here,’ Sarah grabs her hand and they start back towards the entrance to the side street that they were smoking in, just a few minutes ago. They pass the front of
Charlie’s
again and Lisa screams as she sees the bald man being pulled down by the woman in the smart business suit.

The woman is biting into his neck, gauging the flesh away and hot crimson blood is pouring down her face.
  They scurry past and enter the darkness of the quiet street. Both stop halfway down to take off their high heels and run in bare feet. They burst out of the street into another main road, also swamped with café’s, restaurants and wine bars and hundreds of screaming people covered in blood and clutching facial and body wounds.
  Sarah and Lisa run down the pavement, dodging round people fighting. Blood spurts out from an arterial bleed, soaking Lisa on her face and bare arms. They continue to run, narrowly missing being attacked by inches.
  Within a short distance, they reach Sarah’s apartment block.
  ‘Come in with me, Lisa - you can’t stay out here on your own,’ Sarah says, panting heavily.
  ‘I can’t Sarah, I’ve got to get home,’ she breaks away and starts running down the street. ‘I’ll call you when I’m home,’ she yells.
  Sarah watches her run, then turns to go into her own block, but movement to her left catches her eye and she sees a man staggering into view. His shirt is blood soaked and half his face is torn away. He sees Sarah and starts directly towards her. Sarah fumbles at the numbers on the key-coded entrance lock. Her fingers move too fast and she has to press clear and start again. Finally, she pushes the door and slams it shut.

In the foyer, Sarah presses the button to call the lift. While waiting, she peers at the front door and watches the man through the glass, staggering past the door – then he stops and walks towards the plate glass.

Sarah pulls back and urges the lift to move faster.
  The doors open with a loud ping and Sarah gets inside and waits for the slow climb to her floor. She doesn’t hear or see anyone else and gets safely into her flat.

She then pulls her mobile phone out of her bag and curses that she forgot it was on silent. The screen flashes with missed calls from HOME. Her parents have been calling her again and again. She presses the phone and waits for the connection. Her Dad answers and lets out a loud sigh.
  ‘Sarah, thank god you’re okay,’ Howard says.
  ‘Dad, what’s happening, there’s loads of fighting and people being attacked and a man had his face hanging off,’ Sarah babbles into the phone.
  ‘Sarah, listen to me. The phones will be down soon, something bad is happening everywhere. I don’t know what it is but you stay in your flat, okay? You must lock yourself in and wait for us,’ Howard speaks slowly and firmly, making sure she takes it all in.
  ‘Dad, what? What’s going on, are you and Mum okay?’
  ‘We’re fine Sarah, your mother’s right here. We are going to get Howie and then we’ll come and get you, wait there - do not go out or leave the flat.’
  ‘Is Howie okay, Dad? Is this everywhere? I’ve been out in town and it was awful.’
  ‘Yes, Sarah - it’s everywhere, now you must stay there…’
  The line goes dead.

Sarah panics and yells into the phone: ‘DAD,’ over and over again.

She presses the END CALL button and tries to call them back. She keeps trying again and again, then calls Howie but gets no tone and then she works her way through her call list one by one.
 

All round the world, people screamed into their phones desperately trying to make contact with their loved ones. The huge numbers crashed the networks and the engineers were busy fighting for their lives, like everyone else, and couldn’t bring the systems back online
.
 

Sarah never had a landline connected, the mobile signal in most of Central London was always brilliant and the building provided secure wireless connection.

Sarah tried using her computer, but the internet was down too. After hours of frantic calling and texting she gave up and sank onto the sofa; curling up and sobbing. After some time, she remembered the television; she had rarely watched any TV. Sarah flicked through the channels, but each one was either blank or showing a static image apologising for the loss in broadcast.

Those were the events of Friday, now it’s Tuesday and there is still no sign of her family.

  Sarah finishes the tuna and discards the empty can into the waste bin. She is feeling a little stir crazy and yesterday sneaked out to knock on her neighbours’ doors - but there was no reply and she ran back inside her own apartment.

  She knows that she has to keep mentally alert and that regular physical exercise releases endorphins into the system. She grabs her
iPod
and changes into a pair of shorts and a sporty vest top. Naturally very slim and lithe, regular workouts in the company gym helped keep her fit and toned. Selecting her gym play list, Sarah commenced exercising; again cursing herself that she had the shower first, instead of waiting. For the next two hours, Sarah punishes herself with hard physical exertion: running fast on the spot; then doing star jumps; squat thrusts; push ups; sit ups and then she makes use of the kitchen worktop for dips. Loud dance and rock music blare directly into her inner ear, pushing her to work harder and faster.
  Eventually, she flakes out, crashing down to the floor, gulping air down and pulling the small white speakers out of her ears.

  As she recovers, she try’s to think of how many apartments there are in the building. There are many floors: maybe twenty or twenty five and most of the apartments are small, so the developers could make more money.

 
So… maybe four apartments per floor - apart from the big, luxury ones at the top - that would make it  around one hundred apartments in her block
.
There must be someone else alive in this building and there should be a decent amount of water storage to supply the apartments. Which must mean there is plenty of water – so… I can have another shower
!             

  Sarah runs for the bathroom, before she allows any doubt to creep in.
  Again, having showered, under the pleasantly cold water, she gets dressed and makes her mind up - she is going to go out of her apartment and see if anyone else is still here. What harm can it do?
  Sarah selects a large knife from the kitchen drawer and starts towards the front door.
  ‘Sod it!’ she exclaims, as she slowly opens her front door.

________________________________________________________

‘Oh… who did that?!’ Alex ‘Cookey’ Cooke bursts out from underneath the Saxon, clutching his nose.
  ‘Tucker was that you? Stinky fucker.’ Cookey shouts back, after taking a few steps away.
  Tucker chuckles to himself, and then lets rip with another loud fart, causing more of the recruits to burst away from the rear of the vehicle.
  ‘You dirty fucker,’ Darren Smith yells, as Tucker carries on laughing.

  I start giggling myself. I am at the top of the Saxon vehicle. Dave took the last look-out during the night and I got another couple of hours sleep, before the sun finally came up.
  ‘What time is it?’ Nicholas Hewitt stands and stretches out, then goes dizzy and has to bend back over.
  ‘Just gone 6 a.m.,’ I say, out loud, so they can all hear. ‘You lot feeling any better today?’
  I get a mixed response.
  ‘Right, we need to make a move. Load up and we’ll go back to the main buildings and find some food.’
  ‘Hang on, I need a piss,’ Simon Blowers calls out and runs out from the Saxon; stopping after a few metres and relieving himself onto the grass.

  Within minutes, he is joined by all of us, in a row, pissing in the warm summer morning; contented sighs and long groans as bladders are relieved.
  ‘I’m bloody starving,’ Tucker says.
  ‘No surprise there then,’ Cookey says, to a cackle of laughter.
  ‘Stop talking about food, I feel like my throat’s been cut,’ Curtis Graves says.
  ‘What? You didn’t even do anything last night Gravesy - you were pissing about, driving that
Land
Rover all night, while we were fighting for our lives,’ One of them shouts and then they are off again, bantering and jibing.

  We slowly load back into the Saxon and I take the driver’s seat. The Bedford 500 6 cylinder engine roars to life and I engage the first gear and pull away. The Saxon is a big, squat looking thing with massive tyres and can hold up to ten soldiers in the rear. From looking at the controls I can see it has 2-wheel and 4-wheel drive capability but I leave it in normal at the moment.