The Z Infection (12 page)

       We spoke for a few more minutes before he said
he had to go and take another telephone call.  When the line went dead I held
the phone to my chest for a long time.  It was the only contact I had with what
was going on outside and it might be a while before we would talk again.

       When I finally got back in the game I laid the
phone on the table and began to organise myself.  Sleep would have to wait.  If
I had to stay here for any length of time I would need to be ready to face a
lot of challenges.  I checked the flat.  It was small but it had the advantage
of having an en suite shower in the bedroom as well as a bathroom.  I filled
the bath to the brim with cold water, not knowing if the supply would last. 
Then I checked the kitchen and all the cupboards. 

       I removed every scrap of food I could find and
laid it out on the table.  She didn’t each much, my friend, I thought.  There
were two tins of baked beans, three tins of soup and two tins of chick peas. 
Not a great start.  Added to that there were two full bags of pasta shapes,
some spaghetti, two tins of chopped tomatoes, half a loaf of bread, half a bag
of rice and a pot noodle.  There were also all the usual things like spices and
tea bags, instant coffee and some hot chocolate.

       In the freezer I found a pizza, some burgers
and a tub of something I couldn’t make out.  It might have been a leftover
curry.  In any case there wasn’t a lot of food.  A quick calculation told me it
might last me a fortnight, but that was if I was really careful and rationed
myself.  Who was I kidding?  I was a lousy cook and a wasteful eater.  I would
have to find more.

       The only thing I could think of, was to check
the other flats in the building.  On this landing there were three more.  Then
there was a landing above and two below.  That should give me fifteen flats to
check.  But what if some of those things had managed to find a way in?  What if
the people in those flats hadn’t fled?  What if they too had turned?  My mind
was filled with a lot of questions and very few answers.

       I had to make a decision and I came to it
quickly.  I would need a weapon.           

Kareef Hadad

04:00 hours, Saturday 16
^th
May, Central London

     
Saeed had a small radio in the kitchen of his restaurant and we listened
to it every hour, on the hour.  The government warnings were to stay indoors
and not to approach anyone whom you suspected of being infected.  The problem,
we were told, was a fast spreading virus which was incredibly contagious.  It
was spread by bites and scratches and possibly by contact with infected blood. 
Rumours of it being airborne, we were told, were unfounded and the best minds
in the country were working around the clock to develop a vaccine.

       Sophie had been quiet since we had seen the
woman killed earlier.  She had gone to another part of the restaurant and sat
down on the floor.  She hadn’t slept much since.  None of us had. 

       Around sunrise I heated some chicken curry from
a box I had found in the kitchen and took it to her, with a piece of nan bread.

       ‘Curry for breakfast?’ she asked.  ‘This is a
first.’

       ‘Eat it,’ I said.  ‘We don’t know when we might
get something else.  There’s quite a bit of food here, but we could be
discovered and have to run at any moment.’

       She knew I was right.  I joined her on the
floor and we ate in silence, using the bread to mop up the sauce. 

‘Saeed didn’t mean what he said last
night,’ I told her.  I explained that he was different from her, and actually
quite different from me.  His family were devout Moslems, unlike mine, and they
strictly adhered to their faith.  No alcohol, no pork and anyone who didn’t
believe as they did, was an infidel as far as they were concerned.  It was the
way they were.

‘But he owns this place,’ she said. 
‘He doesn’t mind serving the infidels and non-believers.  That makes him a
hypocrite.’

I was stumped at that.  I couldn’t
explain it any better to her.  Saeed was as he was. Nothing was going to change
him.  Not even the end of the world.  He and his family would accept whatever
was happening as the will of God.  It was a million miles away from what I had
been brought up with.  My father had turned his back on the faith years before,
when my mother had been taken from him in an accident.  He had drummed it into
me, from a young age, that you made your own way in life and there was no
all-seeing deity guiding you along a certain path.  I still believed in God,
despite what had happened to my mother, but I was more realistic about what he
could do for me.  It was something I was now teaching my own child.

My thoughts turned to my family once
more.  They hadn’t been far from my mind since the previous day, but it had
been impossible to contact them.  The house phone had gone to answer machine
every time I called it, until it was full and couldn’t take any more.  My
wife’s mobile phone kept telling me the caller couldn’t answer right now.  I
wondered if she ever would.  What had happened to them?

I was shaken from my thoughts by
Saeed, who crawled along the floor to us.

‘There are more coming in this
direction,’ he whispered, his voice creaking with fear.

‘We should remain quiet,’ I said.
‘Let’s hope they pass us by.’

We waited for almost an hour as the
mass of bodies shuffled past the restaurant, some of them occasionally stopping
to look through windows, others checking for food wherever they thought some
might be.  I swear one of them tried the door handle, but it was locked and he
moved on soon enough.

When we were sure they had all passed
by, Saeed crawled back to the window and took a look outside.  He turned back
and gave us the thumbs up.

‘Looks like they’ve all gone.  The
ghost is clear.’

Poor Saeed.  It was either a
supremely poor grasp of the English language or a terrible line in jokes. 
Whichever it was we never found out.

As he moved to come back towards us,
he knocked his leg against a table.  A glass, which was perched near the edge,
was dislodged and fell to the floor.  Before Saeed could react it had smashed
with, what sounded in the silence, a tremendous crash.

He looked at me, aghast at his
error.  My face must have told him a story too, but I wasn’t looking at him
anymore.  At the window were at least six faces, all with the same look etched
into their features.  They had found us.   

Sophie Westerly

04:58 hours, Saturday 16
^th
May, Central London

       I was almost frozen with fear for the second
time in less than a day.  And it was the second time in less than a day that
Kareef saved my life.

       ‘On your feet,’ he said.  ‘We’re leaving now.’

       ‘I’m sorry,’ protested Saeed. 

       But we weren’t listening to him any longer.  We
were running through the seating area of the restaurant, Kareef dragging me to
the rear entrance.  Behind us, as we ran, I could hear that wail those things
made.  I had heard it before.  They were calling others to the source of food. 
Fucking hell that was creepy.  If there was one thing about them that I would
never get used to, it was that.  Every time I heard it the hairs would stand up
on my neck and arms.  They are standing up now, just thinking about it.

       We ran through the kitchen, hearing the sound
of breaking glass behind us as they smashed their way through the windows and
door.  Then we heard another sound.  It was Saeed, screaming.  We both stopped
for a moment.

       ‘Do you want to go back for him?’ Kareef asked.

       I only thought about it for a second.

       ‘Fuck that,’ I said.  ‘Run.’

Thomas Buckle    

05:25 hours, Saturday 16
^th
May, East London

     
In the morning I was awake early.  I switched on the television and
watched the news as I munched my way through a bowl of corn flakes.  It was the
same depressing story as we had been given the day before, only much worse.

       The government assured us that things would
soon be back to normal again.  Normal?  How was anything ever going to be
normal again after this?  Footage from a helicopter showed the battle of New
Scotland Yard, as it was coming to be known.  I had already seen part of the
report, as it had happened, but I watched the entire story again, with total
fascination as the building burned and people were attacked and pushed back by
the ravenous horde.  I watched with a growing aversion as those, who were
trapped by the attackers, flung themselves from the upper floors and roof
rather than be mutilated and eaten alive.  It was stomach-turning and when it
was over I went into the garden and puked.

       Once I had recovered I went back to my
preparations.  Part of my plan was to check the neighbouring houses for anyone
who was still there.  I checked the houses on either side first.  I knew my
neighbours pretty well, having lived in the street for almost twenty years, but
I still would never have walked into their homes without an invite.  Yesterday
had changed the rules though.  I knew I didn’t have time to waste.

       I knocked on the first door.  No answer.  I
knocked again.  Still nothing.  I tried the handle and it opened.  Obviously
they had left in an enormous hurry.  Inside it was a mess.  They had tipped out
drawers in every room, grabbing for valuables and whatever they thought might
be of use.  I checked the kitchen cupboards.  There were a few tins and some
dried food so I took them and put them in a large sack I had taken from my
garage.

       I went through every room as quickly as I
could, but with as much thoroughness as I could manage, taking whatever seemed
useful.  A pair of binoculars was a real find.  A Swiss Army knife, which I
found in another room, could be invaluable.

       Once I had been through the house I moved to
the other next door neighbour.  Again there was no answer but this time the
door was locked.  I shoved it with my shoulder but it wouldn’t budge.  I kicked
it once or twice and then decided against it as it was making too much noise.

       Making my way around the back I found the
garden gate was slightly ajar.  I walked through and to the back door.   Again
this was locked and again it was going to be too noisy breaking in.  I decided
to visit some of the other houses.  My rule became simple.  Knock on the door. 
If someone told me to go away then I would leave.  If there was no answer and
the door was unlocked, I would go in and take whatever I wanted.  If the door
was locked I moved on.

       I did this routine on twenty houses in the
street.  Not one person was at home and more than half the houses had at least one
door left unlocked.  It was a burglar’s paradise and by the end of the morning
the sack was full of food and other items.

       I was carrying it back to my house, pleased
with my morning’s work, when I suddenly became very aware of the sense that I
was being followed.  I suddenly felt frightened.  It was the first time that
day.  The memories of the day before still filled me with dread and I didn’t
want to look around.  I quickened my pace.  Whatever was behind me quickened
pace too.  I could hear the panting of its breath.

       I turned a corner and started to run.  It
started running too.  My God, I thought, this is the end.  If these things can
run then I’m dead.  I had worked on the theory that they were too slow and that
even I, in my advanced stage of being unfit, would be able to stay one step
ahead.  Not so.

       I was suddenly tripped and fell headlong into a
hedge.  It was on me in a second, licking me and.  Hang on.  It was licking
me?  I opened my eyes and came face to face with a dog.  Not just any dog, of
course, as I would find out in time. 

He was a Golden Retriever, fresh
faced and furry.  He couldn’t have been more than about a year old and he
licked at my face enthusiastically, obviously delighted to have some company. 
I checked for a collar, hoping he might have a name, but he wasn’t wearing
one. 

Why, I thought, would someone leave a
beautiful dog like this behind?  Then it dawned on me.  They would have had
limited space.  Their kids and food and valuables would have been the first
things to go in the car.  By the time they were packed they probably realised
they didn’t have any room for the family pet.  I imagined it must have been a
heart breaking decision to leave him behind, but here he was.

I guessed he was hungry so I fished
in the bag and found a packet of chicken slices.  I opened it in front of his
eager face and gave him a slice.  It didn’t touch the sides.  I gave him
another and it went the same way.  In the end I gave him the whole lot and he
scoffed every last morsel.  I resolved to find some dog food for him as my next
job.  I couldn’t afford to give him my food, no matter how charming he was.

We strolled back to my house, the
best of friends already.  I imagined my wife waiting there for me, a big grin
on her round face, telling me stories about how she had escaped from the
hospital, but when I arrived there the house was as empty as I had left it.