Wild Strawberry: The Motorcycle Diaries (7 page)

L

ee, in the prison control room, suddenly sat bolt upright.

There was a large truck tearing down the access road at speed.  There were zombies clinging all over the driver’s cab, flames were licking its sides, and he could see the windows were smashed.

This was the first sign of life outside, but it seemed that it would not be a sign of
life
, for very much longer.

The prison was surrounded by a double wall.  The outer wall was mostly brick, but in places it was a solid metal fence, topped with a wire fence, topped with razor wire.

The inner wall was a tall wire fence, topped with razor wire.

Terry was behind the wheel of the truck.  Jeffrey sat beside him clutching his throat, blood pumping rhythmically between his fingers.  Both looked deathly pale, their eyes barely able to focus.  They had been at a gathering of motor bikers’ on the day of the Rising, and had a long and complicated journey to this day.

Terry knew that he had to get inside the prison, but no longer remembered why or how.  The sea of angry faces in front of him was confusing, and as the truck ploughed a path through the middle Terry wondered if this was a dream, and if so, what was its meaning?  His ex-wife had been very fond of looking for meanings in dreams: she’d kept a ‘dream diary’ and Terry had teased her mercilessly for it.

The wall of the prison was solid brick: he didn’t know how he could get through that.

Then he noticed the portions of metal fence, ‘that looks passable’ he thought, as he turned the truck with a skid and headed straight towards it.

He pressed down hard on the accelerator.  He was feeling numb now.  Was he cold?  He couldn’t remember why he was driving towards this fence.  Should he have put on his seatbelt?

The truck hit the outer fence, sending it straight down under the wheels, and in a ‘domino effect’ the inner fence also toppled.

The truck continued into the wall of the prison chapel, where it stopped, the engine hissing angrily.

Zombies swarmed into the prison through the hole in the fence.  They ran screaming in their hundreds, hungry for the flesh that they had known was inside, but which had been denied them for so long.

*   *   *

Clive spent every morning working to turn the prison green into a kitchen garden.  This morning was no exception.  Even before the first rays of the red dawn had stained the walls, Clive had been there.  He had almost reached retirement age, and had been really looking forward to getting to grips with his garden.  The Apocalypse had happened, the world as he knew it had ended, but at least he had his garden.  He really wanted flowers and shrubs, but considering the fate of most people he knew, he mustn’t grumble. 

As the truck smashed through the fence and Clive saw the stampeding throng of the dead spill into his painstakingly planted vegetable patch, he felt a pain shooting down his arm.

              He had lost consciousness before he hit the ground.  The others would not be so lucky.

After Tina had locked most of the male staff in Ed’s office they had managed to open the doors by a mixture of brute force and by unscrewing lock fittings.  The resulting missing doors and broken locks gave the zombies almost instant access to the whole of the complex.

The men had managed to break free, but there was now an easy and unlockable passage from the garden to Ed’s office, which the zombies were quick to discover.

Ed had watched the truck smash through the outer wall of the prison.  He’d watched Clive collapse, with what looked like a heart attack.  Looking down, he saw creatures swarm into the building.

His final line of defence was the small staff kitchen.  It had a supply of food, but, more importantly, a window leading to a ledge from which it was theoretically possible to reach the roof.  He hurried down the corridor until he reached this kitchen, ducked inside and bolted the door.

The door had a small, reinforced glass panel, through which Ed scanned the corridor looking for signs of the undead, or, he hoped, signs of his staff securing the area.

He was peering sidelong, squinting with one eye, when a shadow fell on him from the other side and hands started to pound frantically on the glass.

Ed stumbled backwards, swearing.

A high pitched voice screamed at him, “Open up, open up quickly and let me in!”

Ed hesitated, looking Angie in the face.

“Hurry! They’re coming!”

Ed took a tentative step forward, “Where are they?  How near?”

“Just let me in!  They’re coming up the stairs!”

Ed put a hand to the latch, but didn’t try to move it.  “I’m sorry, Angie, it’s stuck.”

“Open it you stupid fucking bastard!”

Another member of staff appeared, and he banged a bloodstained fist on the door, smearing the glass.

“Ed, fuck!   Open up, they’re coming up both stairs!”

“Sorry,” Ed shrugged.

He saw Angie’s face smashed up against the glass and a second later a spray of blood covering the window.

Ed slumped down, his back against the vibrating door, where, behind a mere few inches of wood, his staff were being eaten alive.

“Oh fuck.” He swore, head in hands.