The Virus

by Lee, Damien

  Amy matched his gaze, succumbing to his infectious smile. “I suppose. But at least break a back window.”

  “Why? So the burglars don’t see?”

  “No, so the zombies don’t. Smart arse.”

  She led the way around the side of her house towards the back garden. It was there she met Norman Collins. Her neighbour stood with his back to the pair, swaying as he observed her withered plants in the flower bed. Amy gasped, staring at the man with wide eyes. The noise caught his attention. He turned, revealing a grotesque, disfigured face. A gooey crimson mess had replaced his tanned skin. His left eyebrow had been ripped away, giving him a peculiar stare. His lips had been torn off, exposing bared teeth that opened as he darted towards them.

  Ben rushed forward, tackling the man to the ground. Amy followed. Jumping over the pair, she stood on Norman’s head, pushing his face to the side.

  “Ben, there’s a hand fork by your side,” she said, motioning to the garden tool in the flowerbed.

  He nodded. Keeping his bulk pressed on the man, he felt blindly for the fork. Norman fought hard against his oppressors. He arched his back, with muffled growls sounding beneath Amy’s foot.

  “Got it.” Ben said, bringing the tool into view. He rose to his feet, placing a boot on the man’s chest. Amy twisted Norman’s head, exposing his right ear. In an instant, Ben drove the pointed tips into the man’s temple. He applied force, pushing the metal prongs deeper. Amy looked away as a startled cry came from Norman. Ben stomped on the handle, plunging the fork down to the hilt. She could feel the corpse shudder beneath her foot, its muscles twitching until it finally lay still.

  “Are you okay?” Ben asked.

  Amy nodded, swallowing hard before responding. “He was my neighbour.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She looked away, fighting to keep the tremors out of her voice. “Shall we go back to playing Billy Burglar?”

  She motioned towards the kitchen window, casting a glance at Norman. She couldn’t help but wonder whether her family had succumbed to the same fate. What if they were already dead? What if she was too late?

  “We need something to smash it,” Ben said, tearing Amy away from her morbid thoughts. “Any ideas?”

  “Try Norman’s garden.” She led Ben over to the wall. “How about something on that barbecue?” She pointed towards the fixed appliance near the conservatory doors. A series of cooking utensils hung from the grill. They shimmered under a caressing breeze.

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ll go have a look and see what’s there.”

  Amy stepped back as Ben hoisted himself over the wall. He landed with a soft thud on the other side before stealthily moving over the lawn. She looked back towards Norman’s corpse, ensuring he hadn’t moved. The body remained still; the trowel handle jutting skyward. She looked back at Ben as he examined the contents of the barbecue. A frown creased his face as he spotted something next to the glass doors.

  “I’ve got something even better,” he hollered. She watched him stoop down next to the conservatory windows. Before he could grab the item, a heavy thud sent him staggering aside.

  “Fuck!”

  Amy moved along the side of the wall, searching for the cause of Ben’s outburst. When the glass panels came into view, she saw the decrepit form of Norman’s father slamming the door in a rage. His muffled roar showered the glass in crimson spittle.

  “I think you should get out of there,” she said

  “Yep.”

  Ben stooped down and retrieved the hammer he had spotted before rushing back to her. She stepped aside as he vaulted the wall, keeping her eyes on the glass doors of the conservatory. Ben raised the hammer before her.

  “Good call.”

  She followed him as he approached her kitchen window. Without hesitating, he swung the hammer towards the glass. The metal head collided with the top corner of the window, creating a web-like crack. He swung again, connecting with the centre of the glass, causing it to shatter. The pair jumped back as the diamond shards scattered across the floor. Ben stepped forward. Taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his palm, he brushed the remaining shards aside.

  “You live alone, right?” He unwrapped his hand and spread the jacket over the window ledge.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are there keys in the back door?”

  Amy nodded.

  “Okay, wait here, I’ll open the door for you.” With that, Ben vaulted the windowsill and disappeared inside her home.

  Amy waited, looking back at Norman’s motionless corpse. Seconds passed before she heard the rattle of keys. The door swung wide, with Ben stepping back to allow her entry.

  “Nice place.” He smiled.

  “Thanks.”

  The kitchen was as she had left it, discounting the particles of glass scattered everywhere. She carefully walked over the broken shards, cringing as the crunch beneath her shoes filled the silent house. Eventually, the hallway came into view. Amy continued to step cautiously as she left the kitchen behind. Her mobile phone was on the table near the front door, but to reach it, she had to walk past the living room.

  “What are you waiting for?” Ben asked. “The house was secure when we got here.”

  “You’ve got me spooked now,” she hissed, keeping her eyes fixed on the open door as she passed. With a deep breath, she rushed the last few steps and grabbed the phone. The list of missed calls brought tears to her eyes. She quickly scanned through them all. Her mother and grandparents had each tried to ring many times. Not waiting a second longer, she dialled the first number.

  18

  “What do you want?”

  The demand came from within the house. Frank looked past the barrel of the shotgun, trying to see through the gap in the door. A wrinkled eye topped with a furrowed brow was the gunman’s only displayed feature.

  “What do you think we want? Let us in!”

  Frank could hear the zombie drawing near. He felt a tug on his shirt as Lisa tried to get his attention.

  “C’mon.” She urged.

  Frank shrugged away her grip, maintaining his locked stare with the elderly farmer.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “What?”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “We fucking will be if you don’t open this door!”

  An enthusiastic shriek caught Frank’s attention. Tearing his eyes away from the farmer, he watched the undead woman as she neared. Drool spilled from her mouth. She fixed the pair with wide, crazed eyes. Frank turned back to the man.

  “We’re gonna die out here. Let us inside!”

  The farmer considered the option as the undead woman reached the end of the field. She raced over to the pair with arms outstretched. With a growl of disdain, the farmer swung the door wide and turned the shotgun on her. A deafening blast caused Frank and Lisa to recoil as the woman’s head exploded into fragments. They watched the twitching body fall to the ground before turning back to the farmer.

  “Look, we’re not injured and we don’t mean any harm; all we want is a safe place.”

  The elderly man regarded the pair with a frown.

  “Okay,” he said after a moment of deliberation. “But there’s not much food here and I’ve already got a house full.”

  He stepped aside to allow the pair entry, closing the door behind them. The hallway was dark and humid. A slit of light shone through a gap in one of the boards. Motes of dust danced in the fleeting light, disturbed by the arrival of the pair. Frank scanned the narrow confines, trying to take in his surroundings. He listened to the snap of bolts and rattle of a chain behind him. Once finished, the farmer motioned for them to follow him.

  “We’ve got two more joining us,” he announced as he led them into the lounge.

  Frank looked around at the four faces in the room. He counted two women, and a man seated on the couch with a lone woman sat on a rug near the empty fireplace.

  “Make your own introductions. I’ll be back in a minu
te.”

  They all watched the farmer hobble out of the room.

  “I’m Louise.” the woman on the floor smiled. She was painfully thin with sharp features. Her hazel eyes danced between the pair, staring at them expectantly.

  “I’m Frank,” he muttered.

  “And I’m Lisa.” She grinned forcefully, digging Frank in the ribs.

  “I’m Simon.” the chubby man on the couch raised his hand. His swollen face encompassed his tired eyes. Like pissholes in the snow, Frank thought. Simon placed an arm around his equally obese spouse. “And this is my wife, Elaine.”

  Lisa nodded warmly as she turned her attention to the last, unidentified, female. Sensing the gaze of the group, the teenager looked up. Streaks of purple ran through her long black hair. The flickering candlelight was reflected in the various piercings adorning her face. Her cold, blue eyes stared at Lisa.

  “Tina,” she uttered shortly

  “Nice to meet you, Tina. So, who’s the old codger?” Lisa motioned to the door.

  “His name is Ronald Carter,” Elaine said. “He’s a lovely man.”

  “Yeah, he seems quite the charmer.” Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes as he approached the window. Peering through the gap, he saw no sign of the infected. He sighed indignantly as he turned back to the room. “So what the hell is going on here?”

  Simon shrugged. “You know just as much as us.”

  “No, I don’t. All I’ve seen is a bunch of guys eating people. Then they get up with their guts hanging out and go after others. That’s it.”

  “Well c’mon you must have been living under a rock.” Simon chortled. “Don’t you own a TV?”

  “They don’t allow them in Harrodale.”

  The smile slid off Simon’s face. The group regarded Frank with wide eyes. Even the teenager’s interest had been caught by the abrupt announcement. Frank looked between them until his eyes settled on Lisa.

  “So he was a prisoner.” She shrugged. “Who gives a shit?”

  “I do!” Simon snapped. “Harrodale is a high security prison. Only the worst criminals are kept there.”

  “That’s true,” Elaine said, gripping her husband’s arm. “He could be a killer or a rapist.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Frank said. “Sex offenders don’t last five minutes in there.”

  “So you’re a killer then?”

  Frank didn’t respond.

  The group regarded him with a horrified expression as Ronald returned to the room.

  “What’s up with you lot?”

  “Ask him,” Simon answered, pointing an accusing finger at Frank.

  “What’s the matter, have you been bit? Are you one of them?”

  Frank made to answer but was stopped by an outburst from Elaine, her dark curled hair bouncing as she jumped to her feet.

  “He might as well be. He’s a serial killer from Harrodale.”

  “Serial killer?” Frank scoffed. “Serial killer implies I’ve killed loads of people. I only killed one.” He looked around at the horrified faces. “Disregarding the zombies I’ve killed today, of course.”

  “I’m not having a serial killer in my house,” Ronald said.

  “I told you, I’m not a serial killer. I’ve gotta kill someone else before I get that title.”

  “Get out!”

  Frank remained still, glaring at the farmer. After a brief silence, the old man shrugged his shoulders.

  “Fine.”

  He approached the shotgun propped up against the wall.

  In an instant, Frank darted forward, grabbing Ronald before he could seize the weapon.

  “Don’t even think about it, old man.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you’re a threat to me, I won’t think twice about becoming a serial killer.”

  “You don’t frighten me. And I’m not having the likes of you in my house.”

  “What if those things get in here? How many bullets do you have?”

  Ronald looked pleadingly at the others, but nobody came to his aid. “Enough,” he stammered.

  “And will you have time to reload? Who’s going to back you up? This guy?” Frank pointed to the obese man who stood next to the couch.

  Ronald’s eyes flicked to Simon before returning to Frank. “They—They won’t get in here,” he stammered.

  “How do you know that? You’re gonna have to leave, eventually. What if those things are still outside?”

  He released his grip as the farmer sighed dejectedly.

  “You need me,” Frank said. “I’m not going to harm any of you. If everyone keeps cool, we might survive this.”

  “Oh, please.” The teenager rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to survive this. Nobody will.”

  “Why not?” Lisa asked.

  “Because this is the end of the world. The virus isn’t just here. It’s everywhere.”

  “Worldwide?”

  “I dunno. I just know that it spread throughout Britain.”

  “Are you sure?” Frank asked.

  “That’s the last thing they said on TV before it all went off.”

  “What about the rest of Europe?”

  “I don’t know. They just said it’s constantly spreading.”

  “Do they know what’s caused it?”

  “If they do, they’re not telling.”

  “Then let’s hope they closed the Channel Tunnel. If those things get through there, you can say goodbye to the rest of the world.”

  “Not necessarily,” Simon retorted. “What about all the islands? And America, for God’s sake. They’ll help us.”

  “Oh, fuck off.” Frank laughed. “America will either lock themselves in their own little bubble or press the big red button and nuke us all. We’re on our own here, but that doesn’t mean we won’t survive.”

  “Unless they do press the big red button,” Lisa said.

  Frank shrugged, looking back as Ronald spoke once more.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Frank glanced around at the expectant faces. They were looking for a leader. A role he sure as hell didn’t want to take on.

  “I don’t know yet. What I do know is I’m not putting all my hopes on another country coming to save us.”

  He turned and made his way back over to Lisa.

  “Okay, so we keep referring to this thing as a virus, but we don’t know that for sure? It could be chemical warfare or anything.”

  Some of the group nodded, others remained still.

  “How long has it been going on?”

  “A few days,” Louise informed him. “There were loads of cases yesterday on the news, but it really took off early this morning. By that time, it was everywhere.”

  Frank nodded, taking the baton from Lisa.

  “So let’s talk weapons, what do we have to fight these things?”

  “I’ve got this shotgun.” Ronald motioned to the weapon. “And there’s a rifle in the cupboard under the stairs.”

  “What about ammo?”

  “There are two shells there.” he pointed to the pair of red cylindrical bullets on the table. “But I’d say twenty shotgun rounds and twenty rifle bullets in total.”

  “Good stuff. All we’ve got is this.” Frank raised the baton into view.

  “And this,” Lisa added, producing a knuckleduster from her pocket.

  “I didn’t know you were packing that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t about me.” The woman smiled mischievously. Frank laughed, turning to the rest of the group Simon and Elaine had returned to the couch, with Tina perched on the edge.

  “What about you guys?”

  He looked at each of them as they all raised empty hands. His eyes rested on the teenager.

  “What about you?”

  Tina looked up, staring at him briefly before rising to her feet. “I’ve got this.”

  She raised her trouser leg, revealing a combat knife in a sheath. She placed it on the cof
fee table in front of them.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” Lisa gasped.

  “My old man left me it in his will. He was a crazy motherfucker.”

  “Okay, so we’ve got three guns, a baton, an iron fist, and a knife. We need more.”

  “I’ve got some tools out back,” Ronald said. “Hammers, spades, and that kind of stuff.”

  “That’s great, but in case you’re forgetting, those things are out there.”

  “It won’t matter if—”

  Ronald was cut off by a loud thud above them. Frank stared at the man who started rubbing his eyes.

  “It’s my wife,” he said. “She’s not well. I better see if she’s okay.”

  Without waiting for a response, he left the room and made for the stairs. They remained silent, listening to the elderly man’s ascent. Once he was out of earshot, Frank turned to the group.

  “Is she infected?”

  “No,” Elaine whispered. “We’ve heard him talking to her.”

  “But has she been bitten?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Ronald said she’s had the flu for the past few days.”

  “But what if she is infected?” Simon asked, adopting the same hushed tone as his wife.

  “Then we kill her,” Frank said. “I’m not putting my life at risk just because this guy is clinging to a corpse.”

  “She’s not,” Louise countered. “He’s been going up to see to her since we arrived.”

  “When was that?”

  “About four hours ago.”

  The group flinched as the shrill ringing of a telephone filled the room. All eyes fixed on the device.

  “Should we answer it?” Elaine asked, she looked at her husband who put a hand on her knee.

  “This isn’t our house, Elaine.”

  “But it could be the police.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The teenager snorted. “The entire country is falling to pieces, and the law decides to ring this old guy for a natter?”

  The ringing continued, causing some of the group to fidget nervously.

  “It might be someone in trouble,” Elaine said. “We should answer it.”

  “If it’s someone in trouble, we’ll know soon enough,” Frank muttered.