The Virus

by Lee, Damien

  The cow’s remains lay scattered across the road with the bulk of its carcass lying dormant in the bordering field. Frank examined the damage to the reinforced vehicle.

  The front bumper hung loose. There was clear damage to one headlight and a large indentation in the centre. Lumps of flesh mottled the warped grill. Lowering himself to the ground, Frank checked underneath. There were no signs of obstruction, with most of the cow scattered further down the road. He got back to his feet and looked down his intended route. The road stretched on for as far as he could see, further into the vast moors. It seemed his only option was to keep going until he found a suitable farm. He made for the driver’s seat, but a distant scream stopped him in his tracks.

  He turned, trying to pinpoint the person in distress. The fields were empty. He listened again. There was no further sound. He shook his head as he opened the driver’s door, certain that his sanity was wavering.

  When he heard the scream again, he knew he wasn’t going crazy. He dashed to the back of the van. In the distance, he saw movement; a trio of people being chased by another three across the fields. He knew he had to act fast. Sprinting back to the van, he restarted the engine and swung the vehicle into a nearby wire fence. The barrier gave way without resistance, and once again Frank found himself leap-frogging over mounds of cultivated earth. The fleeing people came into view as he neared. Two women and a bearded man were out front. The three pursuing them were closing in. Frank floored the accelerator, unsure whether he would catch up before the creatures claimed their first victim.

  With a shriek of delight, one pursuer lurched forward and dragged the bearded man to the ground. A pang of guilt swept through Frank as two of the creatures tore into their prey. He didn’t slow as he neared. The man was a lost cause. He focused on the two women ahead of him with the remaining zombie in pursuit.

  He pounded the horn, beeping intermittently as he approached. The creature was unfazed, its eager eyes fixed on the nearest woman. She shot a glance behind her and screamed for help when she saw the prison van.

  Not willing to damage the van further, Frank veered left until he was side by side with the zombie. The creature regarded him with a glare before reaching towards the woman. Frank swung his door open, smashing the zombie on the back. It stumbled and fell, missing the woman by inches. Frank accelerated until he was level with her.

  “Get in!”

  The woman ran around to the passenger side as he pulled to a stop. “Did you save the guy?” She wheezed as she jumped into the seat.

  “He’s dead.”

  The woman nodded, not a sign of empathy shrouding her flawless features. She ran fingers through her long, blonde hair, tying it back into a ponytail. Her steely blue eyes fixed ahead as Frank took off once again.

  “Let’s catch up to her before any more of those things come,” she said.

  Frank looked ahead at the figure in the distance. He pushed the accelerator harder, decreasing the gap between them and the fleeing woman.

  “You know these people?” he asked, casting a curious look towards his passenger. She shook her head. “Do you know what the hell’s going on?” He pressed.

  “Let’s just pick her up first and we’ll share stories when we’re safe.”

  Frank scoffed and looked back at the woman ahead of them.

  He beeped his horn as they approached, waiting for her to turn around. She kept running, oblivious to their presence.

  “Hey, lady!” Frank bellowed as they drew level, but she still didn’t respond. He frowned at his passenger. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s deaf.”

  With a scowl, Frank pushed the van further until they were within the woman’s line of sight.

  “Hey!”

  He waved an arm through the window until her eyes locked on the van. She stopped and hurried over as they slowed to a halt.

  “She hasn’t been bitten, has she?” Frank murmured.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  Frank leaned out of the window as she drew near. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  The woman looked at him with a frown before launching into a tirade of indecipherable jargon.

  “Are you sure she hasn’t been bitten?” Frank asked after a couple of seconds of the gibberish.

  “She’s deaf. She communicates through sign language.”

  Frank observed the woman’s actions, trying to understand what she was saying. When she brushed a hand under her chin, he realised what she meant.

  “The guy with the beard? He’s back there.”

  The woman glanced in the direction and stared at him with wide eyes.

  “He’s dead.”

  Frank dragged a finger across his neck to ensure she understood. She put a hand to her mouth and began to bawl.

  “Oh, shit.”

  He swung the door wide and jumped from the van. But as soon as he walked towards her, the woman whirled around and bolted towards the peak of an embankment.

  “Wait!”

  He ran after her. The passenger door slammed behind him and he heard his companion join the pursuit.

  “We need to get out of here,” she said as she caught up to him. “There could be more of them.”

  Frank scanned the area as they ran after the woman. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. The woman reached the peak of the embankment. She tried to slow, but her feet slipped from under her. Frank watched in horror as she tried to turn. In an instant, she had vanished over the side. The pair dashed forward until they reached the peak.

  They peered over the top, assessing the steepness of the other side. It was a huge drop. It was then that Frank observed the scene beneath them. A mangled sheep’s carcass lay at the bottom with the deaf woman sprawled nearby. Atop her was a second sheep. It had finished eating its own kind and now feasted on her. Its white fleece was red with congealing blood, its ravenous moans audible as it devoured its prey.

  His new companion put a hand to her mouth and turned away, heading back to the van. Frank followed her, the image of the sheep tearing through the woman’s stomach lingering in his mind. He had no idea the virus could spread to animals. He still didn’t know if it was a virus. He jogged to meet his passenger as she approached the vehicle.

  “Okay, I need to know what’s happening. What do you know?”

  “I told you, we’ll talk about it later.”

  “No, we’ll talk about it now.”

  He grabbed the woman. She turned to face him, ripping her arm from his grasp. “What’re you—” She stopped when she noticed the wounds on his face. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  “Can we just get moving again? I’ll tell you everything I know once we’re safe.”

  “There’s nobody here.”

  “There’s a fucking flesh-hungry sheep down that hill! Not to mention those guys back there.” The woman pointed down the field. “They’ve probably finished eating that bloke and looking for us.”

  Frank stared back down the field. Sure enough, the silhouettes of four people, the fourth he assumed was the bearded man, drew closer in the distance. The woman turned back towards the van.

  “At least tell me your name,” he said.

  “It’s Lisa,” she replied, jumping into the passenger seat. “What about you?”

  “Frank.”

  He climbed behind the wheel and veered across the field towards the main road. With no signs of the living or dead, the only threat to them was the quartet in the distance. Frank glanced in the side mirror, watching as they faded to minuscule specks in the distance.

  “So, Frank.” The woman looked at him as they began driving on the long stretch of road. “How is that you’re driving a prison van through the middle of the Yorkshire Moors wearing blood-soaked prison scrubs?”

  “Prison scrubs?” He frowned, looking down at his stained tracksuit bottoms and jumper.

  “Well, you’re hardly a prison off
icer, are you? Where did you come from? Harrodale?”

  “Sure did, Sherlock.”

  “That’s a high security prison.”

  “Yep.”

  “You must be a nasty piece of work.”

  “Not as bad as what’s out here.” He motioned towards a hollowed-out sheep’s carcass as they passed it at the side of the road.

  “So where are you heading?” Lisa asked.

  “I have no idea. Somewhere safe.”

  “Good. You can take me with you.”

  Frank looked over at the woman. “Are you sure? No one you need to look for? No family or friends you want to get killed over?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  Frank shrugged. “It’s what ordinary people do during a crisis, isn’t it? Emotions get in the way of logic and they get killed looking for their gran.”

  “Yeah, except I’m not ordinary. I’ve got me, myself and I and that’s the way I like it.”

  Frank grinned; he was warming to the woman already.

  “So what do you think is causing all this?” she asked.

  “I’ve been banged up for five years. The only time I knew something was wrong was when they tore up the prison.”

  “So you don’t know anything?”

  “I know they don’t die when you break their neck. I know they have a taste for human flesh and I know if you get bitten, you’ll become one of them within the minute.”

  “Within a minute?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s weird,” she muttered, more to herself than to Frank.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My friend and I were in a car crash. Some guy jumped in the road and we ended up crashing into a telegraph pole.”

  “A zombie?”

  “If that’s what you want to call them.”

  “Did you run over him?”

  “Yeah, but he got straight back up and ended up biting my friend.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “That guy with the beard was driving past and he picked us up.”

  Frank slowed and veered around another corpse in the middle of the road. For a deserted stretch of land, the moors were becoming more and more populated by the minute.

  “When we got back to his house, my friend started to shake. I thought she was cold at first, but then she began having a fit.”

  “Is that why you ran?”

  “No. We ran because the guy’s sons came bursting into the room and attacked us.”

  “Where they the ones chasing you?”

  She nodded, turning to look out the window as they veered onto another road.

  “What do you mean it’s weird?”

  “Huh?” Lisa asked.

  “I said they turn within a minute and you said that’s weird. Why?”

  “Well, that didn’t happen with us. When the guy saw my friend’s arm, he told us that his two sons had been hurt too.”

  “And?”

  “And the drive alone took fifteen minutes before we reached his house.”

  “So it took fifteen minutes for your friend to change?”

  “At least, and it was probably longer for the two guys that were there.”

  Frank contemplated this briefly until Lisa spoke again.

  “Maybe it depends on the person? My friend was quite big, so it might not have affected her as fast. And you saw how big those other guys were.”

  “No. One of the blokes inside changed within a minute or two.”

  “Was he a big guy?”

  “The biggest guy I’ve ever seen. It has to be something else.”

  “Maybe it’s becoming more advanced?” Lisa offered as they avoided another corpse in the road. “Whatever it is, might be growing stronger and turning people faster.”

  “Ever the optimist, huh?”

  “I can’t think of any other reason. Can you?”

  “I don’t know. All the lads I saw go mental were bitten around the face. Maybe it’s however long it takes to get to your brain?”

  Frank looked around at their surroundings until his eyes picked out a distant house. It was far off the main road, surrounded by miles of open field. A balcony was fixed to the right-hand side of the upper floor, allowing a perfect vantage point should they encounter an attack. He grinned.

  “What?” Lisa asked.

  “I finally know where we’re heading.”

  “Where?”

  Frank pointed towards the farmhouse, noticing the Land Rover that was parked outside. It dawned on him that the house may contain survivors, or worse; zombies. Despite the danger, he knew they would be safer in a barricaded house than out on the road.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are loads of those things out here. Not to mention the ones chasing us.”

  “So where do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, towns and cities will be crawling with those things. We wouldn’t even get a chance to hide. We can fortify this place, it probably has food and water, and if he’s a decent farmer, he’ll probably have a shotgun lying around as well.”

  “But what if the people inside are already infected?”

  “Chances are we’ll encounter two or three at the most. I’d rather take my chances with them than an entire city.”

  They fell silent as they drove the rest of the way. As they pulled onto the dirt road leading to the farm, Lisa finally spoke.

  “Suppose we can’t get in? Then where do we go?”

  “We’ll deal with that if we have to.”

  Frank gripped the steering wheel tighter as the van shuddered over the uneven ground. He observed a sign as they approached.

  “Cobton Farm. Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

  “Let me guess, you used to be a farmer?” His passenger smirked.

  “Nope.” Frank eased off the accelerator, allowing the van to a crawl next to the Land Rover. “But I did grow up on a farm.”

  He eyed the house with a frown. Every window, both top and bottom, had been boarded up with planks of wood. The front door appeared to be the only untouched aspect of the house.

  “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “We might be in luck.”

  He grabbed the baton as he jumped from the van. He approached the house with Lisa in tow.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because this house is already barricaded. There are probably survivors in there.”

  He pounded on the door and took a step back, scanning the acres of farmland.

  “What if they don’t want us here?” Lisa asked.

  “Then we don’t give them a choice.”

  Frank stepped forward, pounding the door a second time. There was still no sound from within. He approached a window and peered through a gap in the boards. The curtains were drawn, but a small opening gave him a glimpse inside. He could see at least two candles contributing to the trifling light in what appeared to be a living room. Turning back, he approached the door once more.

  “Well?” Lisa asked.

  He pressed an ear against the wooden frame. A quiet shuffling from within the house met his ears. He scowled and stepped away, handing the baton to Lisa. “There’s definitely somebody in there.”

  Before she could answer, he kicked the door, striking it three times. He stopped and listened for a further sound. It came, but not from the house.

  A high-pitched shriek caused them both to whirl around. In the next field, Frank spotted a topless woman sprinting towards them. Her tattered hair sailed back as she ran, her disfigured breasts swinging wildly by strands of flesh. She was close when the sound of opening locks met their ears. Frank turned as the door swung open. He didn’t see the owner, but he saw the firearm aimed at his face. He stared down the long barrel of the shotgun as the squealing sounds of death drew near.

  17

  The town was filled with chaos. Everywhere Amy looked, fires raged, corps
es walked, and the people she vaguely recognised were scattered around the road like discarded trash. She fought to keep her composure as the extent of the infection became clear. If Cranston had been destroyed in such a small space of time, what did that mean for the rest of the country?

  “Are you okay?” Ben asked as they drove through the desecrated streets.

  “I just can’t believe it. I know some of these people.”

  Her eyes fixed on the blood-stained corpse of Mrs. Carmichael as it tore a chunk from a severed leg. It regarded the car as they passed; ligaments and tendons dangling from its mouth.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to stay put for long,” Ben told her, glancing around at the corpses littering the floor. “It might not be safe.”

  Amy nodded, determined only to get home and retrieve her phone. She had to know her loved ones were safe. She turned a corner onto the street that led to her house. The area seemed a lot less populated, with only two dead bodies lying in the road. She manoeuvred around them before pulling up outside her home.

  “We here?” Ben asked, looking around the street.

  “Yeah.”

  Amy led the way to her front door. She instinctively reached for her bag; the same bag she had left in her car.

  “Oh, no. I left my keys at the hospital.”

  Ben let out an exasperated groan, pressing his back against the wall. “Wanna break in?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “If you really wanna get in, we can break a window.”

  “I’m not breaking a window.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then my house will be insecure.”

  “And? Are planning on staying?”

  “No. But what if I get burgled or something?”

  Ben regarded her with a humoured frown. “Burgled? There are zombies on every corner. If any burglars are left, I doubt they’re thinking about your silverware.”