The Undead. The First Seven Days (81 page)

A horde of undead zombies play chicken with a armour plated military vehicle. The result is devastation with bodies exploding as they strike the corners and skulls imploding on the solid metal being driven into them at speed.
  ‘They really don’t like us anymore,’ Howie shouts back, as they continually slam into the living corpses.
  ‘Have we done something to upset them?’ Cookey asks.
  ‘They got fed up with you touching them,’ Blowers says, to loud groans from everyone else. He smiles round at them, ‘What?’
  ‘Please don’t start that again,’ Tucker whines.
  ‘Hey, don’t tell me, tell Cookey - I’m only saying what I see,’ Blowers replies.
  ‘Blowers, you are homophobic and I find it offensive,’ Cookey says, in a serious tone, causing a few of the others to burst out laughing.
  ‘Homophobic! Me?’ Blowers says back at him.
  ‘You are homophobic and you offend me and you could offend some of these new people with those nasty comments,’ Cookey says, retaining his serious tone, to more laughs.
  ‘Who am I going to offend?’ Blowers laughs back at him.
  ‘Me,’ a rich, deep voice says from behind him.

Blowers turns to stare up at Clarence, who, in turn, stares back down with a very serious expression.
  ‘You?’ Blowers asks. 'You’re not gay!’ he adds.
  ‘Aren’t I?’
  ‘Err… are you?’ Blowers asks, looking up at the huge man.

Clarence stares back in silence, a silence that is only broken by the thumps and bangs as the Saxon hits more zombies.
  ‘Err… I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I... was just... um,’ Blowers stammers, unaware of Big Chris, Malcolm and the other men all smiling behind him.

Blowers keeps going for several seconds, stuttering and stammering his words, while staring up at the imposing face of Clarence.

Clarence suddenly bursts out laughing, like a braying donkey with his deep voice and they erupt as Blowers glares round at them.
  ‘Piss off, I knew he wasn’t gay,’ Blowers shouts out.
  ‘You shit yourself mate,’ Cookey says, wiping tears from his eyes, even Sarah laughs at Clarence’s deep braying.
  ‘Never seen you nervous before, Blowers,’ Nick laughs at him.
  ‘Yeah, very funny, very funny,’ Blowers mutters and starts laughing himself.

The Saxon drives through the night, until it reaches the road leading to the rear of the commune. Within seconds of arriving in the area, the undead suddenly stop attacking them; standing still, but leaning forward to scream and bare their teeth as the vehicle roars past them.
  ‘Why are they holding back?’ Sarah asks, leaning forward to look through the windscreen.
  ‘We’re right near the commune, they must be waiting to gather more numbers, before attacking,’ Howie shouts back. ‘There’s no other reason I can think off.’
  ‘The entrance is in sight Chris, are we safe to go straight in?’ Howie yells.
  ‘Yes, they’ll recognise the vehicle,’ he shouts back.
  ‘GPMG is sorted,’ Dave says, as he drops back down. ‘I’ve cleaned it the best I can, too.’
  ‘Right, if they’re starting to mass we need to move very quickly. Nick get on that GPMG, you’re with Jamie here, the rest need to get moving,’ Howie shouts as the vehicle pulls up in front of the truck parked across the road.

Big Chris jumps out of the back and shouts for the truck to be moved, as he strides forward. Within seconds, the gap opens and the Saxon pulls through.
  ‘We’ll leave it here, Curtis, you stay with them, mate, they might need a driver for it,’ Howie says as they all get out and start moving off to their allocated positions. Chris is surrounded by people coming to greet them, he silences them all by holding his hands up in the air.
  ‘We will be attacked very soon,’ he says loudly and simply. ‘We have to get everyone out and we need to do it now, get those trucks turned round and every vehicle we have down to the front,’ Chris turns to a few of his men.  ‘I want you to start sweeping down, do it quickly but thoroughly, get everyone you can find to help you, get them all to the front ready to get on the vehicles. Women and children first, no stopping to get toys or clothes. We will be overrun very soon and we must move quickly, do it now,’ Chris urges, as they start sprinting away.

He turns back to the guards still standing by the access point: ‘You lads, you heard what I said, we’ve got the Saxon here and a couple of lads with it, but I need you to stay and hold this area. Take this radio and keep me updated if you get contact, got it?’

They nod back and turn to stare out, as Nick climbs up through the look-out position and turns the machine gun round to face back down the road. Jamie and Curtis sat inside the back of the vehicle, facing down the road, with their rifles aimed and ready.
  Howie, Dave and Big Chris start striding down the main road as his men move quickly ahead of him, darting in and out of the buildings.
  All down the wide main street, people start running about with panicked looks, grabbing at children and pulling them along; as soon as Chris comes into view they aim straight for him.
  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have time for this, get ready and get down to the front,’ Chris repeats over and again, his voice staying calm.
  The truck they used to transport equipment from the hospital in Canary Wharf back to the commune is resting in the main road. The rear doors open wide and half the equipment has already been carried into the makeshift hospital. Howie looks over at the building as they pass and sees the shaggy eyebrows of Doctor Roberts peering out at them.
  ‘Chris, what’s going on?’ Doc Roberts walks swiftly towards them, his long white coat flapping out behind him.
  ‘Doc, we’re going to be overrun very soon, get loaded with whatever you can grab and get down the front,’ Chris calls back.
  ‘Right,’ the doctor calls out, without breaking stride; a man used to processing information very quickly and reacting without panic. He turns to stride back inside the hospital, barking orders to people as he goes.
  They reach the pub on the corner, amidst scenes of bedlam; people shouting and torches flashing, as men run back and forth. The refugees scurry towards the assembly point, all of them clearly terrified, children scream and cry as desperate parents snap and cajole them to move faster and keep up. Armed men and women run through the masses towards Chris, taking instructions and are told where to position themselves. Howie assists where he can, diverting questions from terrified residents and urging them to move quickly.
  The truck from the rear entrance point drives slowly past them, followed by more vehicles taken from the commune’s hastily gathered collection.
  ‘I think you’ll be needing these,’ a woman appears, carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of coffee, a small pot of sugar next to them on the tray. She puts the tray down on one of the wooden bench seats outside the pub and Howie sees Chris smile for the first time since they got back.
  ‘Thanks love, are you ready to go?’ Chris asks gently, drawing the woman into his arms.
  ‘I’ll be ready when you are,’ she replies, smiling up at him.
  ‘I suppose there’s no point in asking you to get down the front is there?’
  ‘I suppose you know the answer to that,’ she replies quickly, but still with the smile. ‘How was it out there?’ She adds.
  ‘Bloody awful,’ he replies.

A man marches towards Chris. Howie steps out to intercept him, trying to give the big man a moment of privacy.
  ‘Hi, can I help you?’ Howie asks, in his best supermarket manager’s voice.
  ‘I want to know what’s going on. We were told we were safe here…’
 
‘CONTACT AT REAR ENTRANCE,’
Dave’s and Chris’s radios boom out.
  ‘
Chris to rear entrance, what have you got there?’
  ‘Lots of zombies, they are staring at us, at the end of the road, looks like they are getting ready. Permission to engage.’

Extract from Howie’s Journal:

The infection has mutated far beyond anything it was ever designed or cultured to be. Up until now, each host has been completely consumed by the virus working into every cell of the body. This method worked well but it had limitations, that the infection was only too aware off. But now the mutation has become extreme. Darren has ceased being a human and has been completely infected, but rather than destroying every part of Darren, the infection worked to integrate with him. Keeping memories, skills and a lifetime of learning and allowing Darren access to anything that will help the cause, while denying any sense of guilt or remorse.
  The greatest advancement by the infection has been the ability to strictly control the flow of memories and instincts, but, more than this, it is the mastering of the chemical hormones that control these bodies.

These chemicals excreted throughout the human system control every emotion and every possible feeling that can be experienced. The infection has learnt that these bodies can be controlled by using electrical impulses to the muscles and they can be given a primary function of seeking new hosts. But those hormones and chemicals make the difference between a human and a deeply, feeling person.
  Every pocket of resistance around the world, suddenly finds themselves facing a disciplined and organised army of undead. Hordes gather at the entry points and rather than attacking prematurely, they wait in silence and with patience; concentrating on the resistors who have killed the most hosts, for they must be stopped.

In London, Darren walks with a fast pace through the streets, towards the commune at the head of a huge trailing army of zombies. Each of them walking with purpose and a fixed stare. The infection floods them with chemicals that make them aggressive and angry. They growl and roar as they stalk through the streets, fighting the ever increasing urge to break free and race forward to take the resistors down. The zombies ahead of them hold and wait for the head of the army to pass, roaring out with loyalty as Darren walks by them. He doesn’t flinch, but stares ahead with a determined glare on his face, fixed on images of Howie dying painfully and that whore sister of his being ripped apart; Dave being slowly tortured and begging for his life with his dying breath.

Darren also conjures up images of Blowers and Cookey being made to humiliate and degrade themselves with disgusting sex acts, before they too become killed and are turned into his loyal subjects. Jamie Reese having his eyes gouged out. Tucker being force-fed human flesh. One by one, he thinks through his former comrades and dreams of ways of torturing and killing them slowly. But the one that matters the most is Howie, and Darren will not stop until he can slaughter his sister in front of him, slaughter every one of them in front of him and then slowly turn Howie.
  The infection inside him revels in the power and the sudden organisation using this host has brought, and it knows the resistor’s time is now very limited.
  Darren sends the undead to the access points of the commune and holds them in position, he has learnt that a co-ordinated and focussed attack on many points will be far harder to repel. Learning the skills of survival, strategy and tactics from Dave, he now puts those to use and holds the undead army in the shadows. Darren knows that the increasing numbers standing just close enough to be seen will send fear and dread through the people in the commune. They will be panicked and make mistakes and be far harder to control.

Not like his loyal subjects, they are easy to control and bend to his will. But those people, those feeble people will panic and scream in fear, which will only make his zombie warriors fight harder to get at them.
  The infection has also learnt that the more speed he applies to the hosts, the less power and strength they have. Even at night, if the infection can hold them at a steady pace, rather than an all-out, reckless charge, they will have greater energy for the killing and the taking of more hosts.

_____________________________________

Big Chris, Howie and Dave stand outside the pub, receiving a constant flow of intelligence from the eyes and ears placed all round the perimeter. The undead are massing at nearly every access point but they hold and wait. This knowledge spreads like wildfire through the area and people start running and screaming in panic, fearing they will be attacked, at any minute.
  ‘That fucker knows what he’s doing,’ Howie says bitterly. ‘Maybe we should open up on them, start cutting the numbers down.’
  ‘I think we should, better than waiting for them to go for us,’ Chris says.
  ‘No, we’ll keep loading the people up - if they attack now and break through, we’ll get overrun. Every minute they hold off, buys us time,’ Dave says, firmly.
 
‘Chris to all units and access points, do not engage until they attack, do not prompt them to attack, hold positions and wait.’
  ‘I’m going down the front to see how they’re getting on,’ Howie says, feeling frustrated. He walks off with Dave, stepping beside him.
  ‘Mate, this is nuts,’ Howie says, shaking his head.
  ‘It is.’
  ‘Fucking Darren, did you see him back there? He was fucking demented and twisted up, poor lad.’
  ‘Do you feel sorry for him?’ Dave asks.
  ‘Sort off, don’t get me wrong though, I’ll fucking kill him the first chance I’ll get, but still…’
  ‘Still what?’
  ‘You know, we knew him, he was one of us and that doesn’t just go away.’
  ‘Oh, yes of course,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Dave, have you ever had anything like this happen before?’ Howie asks.
  ‘You mean having the world end from a zombie outbreak and fighting across the country in an Armoured Personnel Carrier training vehicle in order to rescue a woman and then fighting back out, while one of my men gets turned into one of the aforementioned zombies, no… I haven’t?’
  ‘Funny fucker, I meant have you ever had one of yours turn against you,’ Howie laughs.
  ‘Yes, it does happen. Blokes get paid off, or offered other things to go rogue,’ Dave replies.
  ‘What did you do?’
  ‘I killed them,’ Dave says.
  ‘Makes sense,’ Howie nods, as they reach the end of the row of vehicles and sees Blowers and Cookey urging people into a line and then sending them forward to the vehicles as they pull forward.
  ‘How’s it going lads?’ Howie asks, as he walks up.
  ‘Bloody nightmare, Mr Howie, everyone’s going crazy. We got them in a line here and send them forward to Sarah at the vehicles, she’s helping them get loaded and shouting when the next one is ready,’ Blowers replies.
  ‘We got loads into the first truck, if we can get them down here, we’ll shift them a lot quicker,’ Cookey adds, as he waves the approaching people into the line, ‘MOVE OVER TO THE LINE PLEASE, WE WILL GET YOU AWAY VERY SOON,’ he yells out.
  ‘
Howie to Chris, we need the trucks down front, we've got too many people here waiting for vehicles,’
Howie says into the radio.
 
‘Chris to any units listening, get those trucks down to the front as a priority,’
his voice returns on the radio.
  ‘
Clarence to Chris, I’m on it now, Doc Roberts has got half his truck filled, I’ll get them down to you now,’
Clarence’s deep voice booms out.
  Within minutes, the huge bald man is walking down the road ahead of two trucks, he steps aside and waves them towards the front of the vehicle line. Sarah steps out of the vehicles and stands in front of the first truck, waving her arms high to stop it.
  ‘HOLD IT THERE, BLOWERS AND COOKEY, GET THOSE PEOPLE INTO THE BACK OF THIS ONE FIRST,’ she yells out, with a calm and confident voice.
  ‘GOT IT,’ Blowers shouts back. ‘Your sister takes after you then, Mr Howie,’ Blowers says, with a smile.
  ‘She’s bossier than me, mate, she’ll be running the show, within an hour,’ Howie laughs back.
  ‘OKAY, LISTEN IN PEOPLE. WE NEED TO GET YOU INTO THE TRUCK. WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST, STAY CALM,’ Cookey shouts out, as the crowd start surging towards the rear.