The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) (7 page)

“
Yep
. But it does
get easier. That much I can promise you.” He pulls out a small plastic packet
from his vest, around ten or twelve inches in height and width, and tears it
open. He then unravels a compressed yellow-coloured, tarpaulin body bag, “Let’s
get him packed away then.” He throws it over to me. “Gag ‘em ‘n bag ‘em.”

The
back of the van is sealed off from the front by a metal wall, so I have no idea
if Mr Rosemont is still sedated.

I’ve got to stop thinking
of him as
Mr Rosemont
—especially since we’re on our way to burn him.

According to Andrew, the
nearest furnace is Romkirk, situated just outside Bristol. He tells me that
there are eight furnaces in the UK: Bristol, North Wales, Birmingham, London,
Sheffield, Edinburgh, and Belfast. Swansea used to have a furnace, when the
outbreak first started, but the locals protested to having one so near the city
centre. So when that finally closed, the Welsh government never got around to
building one nearer. They thought Bristol was close enough.

Typical government
.

Apart from a brief history
lesson on British furnaces, the fifty-five-minute journey into Bristol has been
pretty quiet. Not sure if it’s just the effects of the adrenaline wearing off,
the dreaded comedown, or something else. Maybe he’s still a little sore from
talking about his daughter. Should I ask him what’s up? No, best let him be.
For all I know this is how he is after every Nec drop-off.

To hell with it—I’ll ask
him. I’m his partner and it’s my job to make sure he’s all right—whether he
likes it or not.

Please don’t shout at
me.

“Everything all right?” I
ask him quietly.

Andrew doesn’t answer
right away, his eyes firmly on the road ahead. “I’m fine.”

“You just seem a little
quiet all of a sudden. Is there something I’ve done to piss you off?”

Andrew turns to me,
frowning hard. “Absolutely not. You’ve been great today. Spot on. The way you
took out that Nec, without any hesitation whatsoever. And the way you dealt
with Mrs Rosemont—fantastic, Cath. I can’t fault you.”

“What’s up then?”

He lets out a drawn out
breath, and then shakes his head. “It’s just me, Cath. I totally fucked up
today.”

“How do you work that one
out?”

“I let that bloody Nec pin
me to the floor. He could have killed me. Both of us.”

“It wasn’t your fault. He
caught us off guard.”

“
Exactly
. I should
never have let some
stupid dog
distract me. I should have been watching
the hallway, not ogling some animal.”

“Well we’re alive, aren’t
we? We’ve got the Nec safe in the back of the van.” I give him a playful nudge.
“And you’ve got me to watch your back. What more can you ask for?”

A small grin starts to
form on his lips. “You’re right. Thanks, Cath. You’re gonna do well in this
job. I can tell already.” Andrew turns down a country road. “Now let’s burn
this fat fucker before the tranq wears off.”

* * *

The sun has long since
descended as we reach the gates of Romkirk Limited. It’s smaller than I
imagined it would be, no bigger than a school. Plain design—a single sign by
the main entrance. Only one storey high, grey walls and a huge chimney at the
side. Andrew flashes his ID badge to the security guard, a white barrier slowly
lifts, and then we drive down a narrow road to the back; the sides of the van
brushing past the bushes and low hanging trees. After about a hundred metres,
we come to a stop outside a set of steel doors, with a security keypad on the
right side. Being in such a restricted place really brings out the excited
child in me—like I’m part of some covert operation or secret society, or I’ve
somehow managed to wing a seat at the Prime Minister’s table.

“Okay,” Andrew says,
shutting off the engine, and then unclipping his seatbelt, “let’s get this over
with. I hate these places. They stink.
Literally
.”

Unclipping my seatbelt
too, I follow him out of the van. Walking up to the door, Andrew pushes a
button on the security panel. I hear a faint buzzing sound coming from behind
the steel doors. A few seconds later, a voice comes out of the tiny speaker.
“Hi, guys. Be with you in just a second.”

“Cheers, Rob.”

The door opens shortly and
a man steps out through the doors, wearing a thick brown apron and gloves that
go all the way to his elbows, and a set of safety goggles hanging around his
neck. “Hey, Andrew. How’s it going?”

“Good, thanks, Rob. How’s
the family?”

“Great. You?”

“Not too bad, buddy. Not
too bad.”

“Just the one for me this
evening then?”

“Yep. Just one.”

“
Fantastic
. Just
the way I like it.”

Rob follows Andrew to the
back of the van. “But he’s a big bastard,” Andrew points out, opening the
doors.

Can’t help but think that’s
a touch insensitive, but who am I to judge? Andrew’s been at this job for
years. Of course he’s going to be desensitised. To him, it’s just a slab of
gone-off meat—but to me he’s Keith Rosemont: husband, father, farmer,
dog-lover.

Andrew climbs up onto the
van, his weight bouncing the rear a little. “Sorry, Rob, I forgot to introduce
my new partner: Catherine. She just started today. First Nec capture of many.
And it was a
hell
of a catch.”

“Nice to meet you, Cath,”
Rob says, removing his glove and shaking my hand. “This big guy looking after
you, I hope?”

Andrew snorts. “More like
the other way around, Rob. This bloody Nec had me pinned to the living-room
floor, nearly crushed me to death. Lucky for me, Cath’s a crack shot. Right in
the back of his head.”

Rob’s eyebrows rise.
“Really? Well done. It’s more than I could cope with.”

“Just luck really. Right
place, right time.”

Andrew starts to slide the
collapsed stretcher out of the van. “She’s just being modest, Rob. Don’t let
the blonde hair and pretty face fool you—she’s a hard-ass this one.”

Blushing, I take the end
of the stretcher and we pull it out of the van, the steel legs extending
automatically.

I hear the faint sound of
movement coming from inside the body bag. “Do you hear something?”

Rob puts his ear to it.
“Sounds like he’s waking up.”

“Jesus? Already?”

“Well, he was a big
fella,” Andrew says. “I’m surprised he didn’t wake sooner.”

We start to push the
stretcher towards the building, Rob and I at the back, Andrew pulling from the
front. “Fucking hell,” Rob blurts out, “you weren’t kidding when you said he
was heavy.”

“And there’s a dog in
there too,” Andrew points out.

“A dog? What’s a dog doing
in there?”

“The guy tore it to
shreds. Thought it was easier just to burn him with the Nec.”

Rob rolls his eyes and
chuckles. “It better be dead, Andrew.”

“Of course he’s dead,”
Andrew says, pushing the doors steel doors open with his ass. “
I think
.”

Rob shakes his head. “Very
funny.”

The furnace room is
exactly as I imagined it would be: hot, grubby, dark grey walls—with a smell of
burned meat and that rancid stench of death. It reminds me of my first dog when
I was seven, when Dad found him dead in the garden. That smell is etched in my
memory for life. Lined up neatly in a row are about fifteen or so empty
stretchers. There’s a small stool, a couple of spare aprons hanging up on wall
hooks, and a shelf with several sets of safety goggles and gloves. But the main
attraction to this dark, depressing room is positioned at the far end. The
furnace. It’s a massive contraption, about four metres in height and about the
same in width. To the left side of the thick, steel furnace door is a dial and
a large red button.

“Well, Cath,” Rob says,
his arms stretched out wide, as if about to give us the guided tour of his
luxury penthouse, “this is the furnace. I spend most of my time in here,
burning the dead. The rest of the building is pretty much off limits to us mere
Burners. It’s all offices and training rooms, and all that bullshit. But here
is where the real magic happens.”

I can’t tell if he’s being
sarcastic, or if he really does love working in this dump. Personally, I
couldn’t think of anything worse. “Enjoy working here, Rob?”

“Well, it has its bad
points—long, tedious hours, the smell, which I’m pretty sure you caught a whiff
off when you walked in.”

I smile and nod in
agreement.

“But these furnaces are
vital,” Rob continues. “Just like your job. They’re the backbone of keeping
everyone safe from infection. Without these furnaces, we’d have no way to dispose
of them. Guns certainly don’t work, severing the head doesn’t work. Burning
them to nothing more than dust is the only effective way. And I’m glad I’m a
part of it.”

So he wasn’t being
sarcastic then.

“Thought it might be good
if she watched you use the furnace. Give her a little insight into the entire
process of disposal. Is that okay, Rob? I know you’re pretty busy.”

“No, it’s fine,” he
replies. “Be happy to. Just make sure you both stay back. It gets pretty hot.”
He pushes Mr Rosemont over to the furnace doors. “Okay, Cath. The first thing
we do here is get suited up.” He lifts his safety goggles up and puts them over
his eyes. “Goggles, gloves, and apron. At all times.” Walking over to the
furnace, he opens the steel door. He then slides out a large, gridded platform.

I can feel the heat
blasting out even from here, causing me to shield my eyes with the palm of my
hand. I watch as the body bag jerks up, as if he’s desperate to get out. Rob
doesn’t flinch when he sees this. I guess he must be used to it by now.

Is that what’s going to
happen to me eventually? Is all this going to be nothing but a job?

“So now we get to the hard
part of the job,” Rob says, walking behind the body and placing his hands on
it. “Pushing this big fella in.” Struggling at first, he manages to roll Mr
Rosemont onto the furnace platform, and then starts to push him into the fire.

“Need some help?” Andrew
asks.

“No, it’s fine. Best stay
back. I’m used to it.”

Once Mr Rosemont and Genie
the dog are both in the furnace, Rob slams the door shut and twists the handle
to lock it. “Hardest part is over,” he says. “Now the easy part: burning him.”
He twists the dial at the side of the door. “Turn it to green. And then push
the red button.”

Once he pushes it, the
furnace comes alive with a roar, causing me to stand back even further.

“And that’s how it’s
done,” he says, proudly. “It’s not rocket science, just hard graft. Two
thousand degrees Fahrenheit and he’s nothing more than dust.” Removing his
goggles and his gloves, he takes a seat on the stool and wipes his brow with
his sleeve. “It’s a dirty job…but someone’s got to do it.”

* * *

It’s a two-hour drive back
to Ammanford. Andrew’s been driving all day so I’ve offered. I don’t mind
taking the wheel; it’s kind of nice driving around in a van. Makes me feel big,
powerful, like the bully of the road. I can see why there’s such a stigma with
white vans:
White-Van-Man
.

Turning to Andrew, I can
see he’s tired; his eyes are half-shut and he’s quiet. Been a long day. Don’t
even know if we get paid overtime. Hope so—I was supposed to finish hours ago.
Not that it bothers me. Well, not right now anyway. I’m sure I’ll be moaning
when the novelty wears off.

“So what did you do before
all this?” I ask him. “The army?”

He doesn’t answer. When I
turn to him again, I can see that he’s fast asleep; his head against the
window, his arms crossed.

Smiling, I focus on the
road. It’s a long drive ahead, a lot of things flying through my mind. It’s
going to be tough sleeping tonight. I knew today was going to be a real
eye-opener, but I never thought I’d experience so much in one day.

I’m sure tomorrow will be
a little easier. First days are always the hardest.

* * *

Back home I’m greeted by
Beth as soon as I enter the kitchen. She jumps up on me, her sharp claws
catching the cotton of my coat. “Down girl,” I whisper, not wanting to wake Mum
and Dad. I sit down heavily on the chair. Beth rests her head on my thighs and
I stroke it. She closes her eyes, clearly enjoying every moment of it. I smile
at how cute she looks, how loyal and grateful she is. But then my smile
disappears when I think of Genie and her insides pouring out of her torn
stomach. It makes me gag, so I get up from the chair and pour myself a glass of
water. I take a sip by the sink and hold onto the worktop, waiting for the
nausea to pass. It doesn’t, and I throw up. Beth starts to bark at my loud
retching.
Please don’t wake Mum and Dad.
Don’t want them to worry about
me. This is normal. Of course, I’m going to be a little freaked out after
seeing something like that. Who wouldn’t be? Doesn’t mean I won’t make a good
Cleaner. It just means I’m human.

I swill out the sink,
swallow down the rest of the water, and then exit the room.