The Virus

by Lee, Damien

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s got an answering machine. Whoever’s ringing can leave a message.”

  As if to verify his statement, the recording device clicked to life. An automated voice requested the caller to leave a message before concluding with a shrill beep.

  “Grandpa? Are you there? Grandma? It’s Amy.”

  The voice was that of a tearful woman. Frank stared at the machine as she continued.

  “I’ve rung everybody and nobody’s picking up. I just want to know if you’re safe. Please pick up the phone.”

  Elaine let out a sob as the pleading continued.

  “If you want to call me back, I’ve got my mobile. I’m with a guy from work. We’re at my house now, but we’ll be moving on soon. It’s not safe here. If you get this message, please call me. I love you both.”

  The machine clicked as the woman ended the call. The group remained silent, all staring at the device which had returned to its dormant state. The farmer’s arrival broke their trance.

  “Ronald, your granddaughter just called.” Elaine screeched, jumping from her seat.

  “What?”

  “She just rang. Look. Look.” She ushered him over to the machine and pressed the playback button. The heartfelt message floated around the room once more, with all eyes focused on the farmer.

  “Amy. She’s alive.”

  As the message concluded, Ronald wiped tears from his eyes. He sniffed hard as he picked up the phone.

  “I have to let her know I’m okay,” he said, more to himself than to the others. He retrieved a leather-bound book from a nearby drawer and skimmed through the pages. The group watched as he punched in a phone number.

  “Damn it. It’s saying it can’t connect.” He slammed the receiver down and turned to the group. “What does that mean?”

  “Maybe she hasn’t got a signal.” Lisa offered. “Try again in a bit, you might have more luck.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” the teenager said. “All communication will stop shortly.”

  “What?”

  “Have you guys never seen a zombie movie?” She laughed. “First communication goes. Then you say goodbye to electricity, running water, and before you know it, you’re living like a Neanderthal rubbing sticks together to make fire.”

  “She’s right,” Lisa said. “Give it a few minutes, then try ringing again.”

  Ronald gnawed at his fingernails as he paced back and forth. The group watched, all except Frank, who had taken to the window once more.

  “Where are your animals?” he asked after a while.

  “What?”

  “Your animals, where are they?”

  “I only have a dozen sheep. They’re in the next field across, and I got chickens in a coop outside. Why do you ask?”

  “Because the animals are turning as well. We saw a sheep eat a woman earlier, it might have been one of yours.”

  “Jesus Christ.” The farmer groaned, running a hand through his wavy hair.

  Frank eyed the troubled look on the old man’s face. “What is it?”

  “I’m just thinking. Gordon Chesterfield’s slaughterhouse is only ten miles away. He’s one of the biggest distributors of meat in the country.”

  “So that means he has animals there?” Lisa asked.

  “Hundreds. Farmers send him their stock to be slaughtered. Hell, I used to send my cattle there.”

  “Shit, let’s just hope they don’t head this way.”

  Ronald tried the phone again. After a few seconds, he growled and slammed the handset back down.

  Minutes passed with the farmer becoming more and more agitated. Eventually, the silence was broken as Louise got to her feet.

  “Erm, Ronald?” She began, slowly approaching the man.

  He looked up at her, chewing another fingernail. “What?”

  “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

  He nodded shortly.

  “Thanks.”

  “Top of the stairs, first door on your left.”

  “Got it.”

  Louise stepped out of the living room and into the hallway. The area was dark; something she wasn’t accustomed to during the early hours of the afternoon. She blinked hard, trying to adjust her eyes to the gloom as she made her way up the stairs. The candlelight was enough to illuminate the living room, but darkness blanketed the rest of the house. A shuffling sound greeted her as she reached the top of the staircase. She turned, startled by the noise. She located the source behind a closed door.

  “Mrs. Carter?” She uttered softly. She stared at the door. Through the gloom, she could see it had been barricaded shut. Four thick planks adorned its wooden frame. Deciding to ask Ronald when she returned, she made for the bathroom. That was until a small opening in the door caught her eye. She had to look twice, but sure enough, towards the bottom of the barricade, was a small rectangular hole. She stopped and studied the gap. It had been crudely cut out of the door, leaving a hole the size of a large letterbox. She stooped down, trying to see into the room beyond. Her eyes could not penetrate the darkness, but her ears picked up a faint whisper coming from within.

  “Mrs. Carter?” She repeated, slowly approaching the gap. “Are you okay?”

  The whispers grew louder as she neared, but not enough to become decipherable.

  “What are you saying?” Louise turned her ear towards the gap. A sudden, delighted shriek came from the room.

  “Mrs. Carter, are you—”

  Her sentence was cut short as two hands sprung from the darkness. They grabbed the sides of her head, pulling her toward the gap. Louise screamed as her face was pressed up against the door. When she felt teeth clamp around her nose, she screamed louder. With a vicious yank, the nose was ripped off, leaving the woman sprawled on the floor, blood gushing from her face. As the zombie chewed hungrily, Louise let out another scream.

  The first shriek caused every member of the group to flinch. While the rest of them exchanged alarmed glances, Frank grabbed a candle and made for the stairs. He bounded up, reaching the top as another scream sounded. The yellow glow illuminated Louise. She lay cowering on the floor in a crimson puddle, holding both hands to her face. The sound of eager chomping came from a boarded-up room.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Louise continued to howl as the rest of the group reached the top of the stairs. Each held a candle, contributing to the flickering light. Hearing their arrival, Frank turned and rounded on the farmer.

  “Your wife’s a fucking zombie!”

  He looked towards the hole in the door before staring back at the man with wide eyes.

  “Have you been feeding her?!”

  “She’s… my wife,” Ronald whimpered. “I couldn’t kill her.”

  “Well, that’s a shame, because now I’m going to kill both of you.”

  He grabbed Ronald by the neck, pinning him helplessly against the wall.

  “Stop it!” Elaine whimpered.

  Frank ignored her. He pressed his arm against the farmer’s throat, crushing his airway.

  “Frank.”

  The voice was Lisa’s. He pushed harder, watching as Ronald turned a dark shade of purple. Lisa jerked his shoulder.

  “Frank!”

  “What?”

  He snapped his gaze toward her, but saw that her wide eyes were fixed behind him.

  “I think we better run.”

  “Why?”

  He followed her line of sight to the injured woman on the floor. Her crying had subsided, replaced by a raspy moaning as her body shuddered. He released his grip on the farmer as Louise arched her back, emitting a frantic squeal. He heard most of the group flee down the stairs, crying out for him to follow. He ignored them, keeping his gaze firmly rooted on the shuddering figure. Slowly, Louise started to rise. She got to her hands and knees, her head drooped. Blood dripped from her face.

  “Frank! What are you doing?”

  He looked back to see Lisa, the only other
person on the landing.

  “We have to kill her. I’m not going back outside. I’d rather take my chances with one, than hundreds.”

  With that, he turned back as the low growl rumbled from Louise’s corpse. Her head appeared oddly shaped with the absence of her nose. The bloody pulp dripped down her face, running into her crooked grin. Frank remained still, watching as she let out a squeal of delight. She lunged forward but was met by Frank’s open hand. He grabbed her neck as her gnashing teeth tried to reach his flesh. Her fingers clawed at his face, raking at his skin as he slammed her into the wall. Her snapping teeth went for his arm, but he kept her at bay.

  “Get something!”

  Frank’s breath was caught as a flailing leg struck his stomach.

  “Like what?”

  “Anything,” he wheezed.

  He felt Louise’s nails break the skin of his cheek as she clawed at him again. He hissed in pain before slamming the corpse into the ground.

  “Ronald, get that shotgun up here, now!”

  Lisa looked between the struggling pair and the staircase, waiting for the farmer to appear. Frank did not wait for a weapon. He stamped on Louise’s head. After five strikes, she fell silent. Yet he continued. After a few seconds, a crunching sound split through the hallway as Frank’s foot sank into the caved skull. The corpse juddered and twitched as he removed his foot, wiping blood and brain matter onto its sodden blouse.

  “I’m sorry,” Lisa said. “I wanted the gun but—”

  She stopped as Frank brushed past her. She followed him as he descended the stairs.

  “Ronald?” Frank’s voice was calm as he looked around the empty living room. He listened for a response before heading into the kitchen. There was nobody in sight, but a muffled noise was coming from behind a closed door. He could feel blood trickling down his face. He rubbed it away as he approached the door. The muffled sounds increased before the door flew open.

  “Get off me,” Tina growled, forcing her way out of the pantry. She strolled into the kitchen, leaving the rest of the group cowering.

  “They dragged me in there. They say you’ve gone mad.”

  Frank looked past the teenager and sneered at the cowering trio.

  “Where’s your gun, Ronald?”

  “Why? So you can kill us all?” The old man wheezed, massaging his neck, which had turned a deep red.

  “No, so I can kill myself.”

  “What?” Lisa gasped, entering the kitchen behind them.

  He turned to face her. “I’ve been injured. And I am not turning into one of them.” He looked back to the pantry as the group emerged, eyeing him cautiously.

  “You’ve been bitten?” Simon asked.

  “No, but she tore hell out of my face.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’ll turn,” Lisa said.

  “C’mon. We’ve seen it happen!”

  “From a bite. There’s nothing to suggest you’ll turn into one if you get scratched.”

  “And I’m not going to risk it,”

  “But what about us? What will we do?”

  “I don’t give a shit about any of you.” He pushed past Lisa into the living room, looking for the shotgun.

  “We need you alive.” Lisa protested. “You’re no good to us dead.”

  “I’m no good to you anyway. It won’t be long before I turn into one of those things.”

  “Just wait and see.”

  “Where’s the fucking gun?” He turned on the farmer who had stepped beside Lisa.

  “It’s next to the armchair.”

  Frank’s gaze fell on the weapon. He snatched it up and pressed the muzzle beneath his chin. He felt blindly for the trigger until a sharp tug pulled it away from him. He turned to face Lisa, who held the barrel in a vice-like grip.

  “What have you got to lose?” She snarled.

  He locked stares with her. Her query danced around his mind as he considered a response. After a brief silence, he could find no answer. He growled indignantly and pried the shotgun out of her hands. With a slight nod, he turned back to the group.

  “Ronald. I’m not going to hurt you, even though you almost got us killed.”

  The farmer looked at the ground as Frank continued.

  “I think you know what to do.”

  He placed the weapon in the old man’s withered hands. Ronald stared at the gun. With his head down, he quietly left the room, watched by every member of the group until he disappeared.

  “Right, you lot, get over here. I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  Frank motioned for the others to follow him into the living room. He slumped into the armchair and watched as the group cautiously entered after him. They remained still, listening to the farmer prying boards from the bedroom door. It dawned on Frank that the woman may escape her confines and kill her husband first. But before he could voice his concern, a loud blast contradicted this thought. Muffled sobs from the farmer reached them. Frank eased back in the chair.

  “Should we go to him?” Elaine whispered.

  “No. Leave him for a while, he’ll come down when he’s ready.”

  They waited several minutes before Frank was contradicted again. This time, by the sound of a second gunshot ringing around the house.

  19

  Her grandparents had been the last family members Amy tried to contact. After leaving the message on their answering machine, she hung up the phone.

  “Maybe they’ve fled?” Ben suggested, joining her in the passageway. “Everyone else seems to be.”

  Amy shook her head. “My grandparents are frail, and my mum broke her leg a few weeks ago. She can’t really get around.”

  “Okay, we need to make a plan. If you want to go check on them, we better leave sooner rather than later.”

  “You’ll come with me?”

  “Of course. We need to stick together.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “The only other place I can think of is back at her house. Where do your mum and grandparents live?”

  “My grandparents live on a farm in the middle of nowhere. I just hope none of those things have reached them yet.”

  “Hopefully not.”

  “But my mum lives five minutes away. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Okay then. How about we go there first and then drop by my sister’s place to see if she’s there?”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  Amy grabbed her spare keys from the sideboard and headed for the door. She pressed her eye to the spyhole for any sign of danger. Apart from a tiny figure swaying in the distance, there was no sign of movement. Giving a quick nod to Ben, she fumbled with her keys and swung the door wide. The warm air hit her once more, but this time it was tinged with the smell of burning flesh and debris. She glanced around at the countless fires raging in the distance. Smoke billowed high into the air, casting a dark cloud over the town. The screaming had subsided, replaced by an eerie silence. She glanced over at the car, wishing they had parked closer to the house. With a deep intake of breath, she made her way down the steps.

  She heard the zombie before she saw it. With an eager roar, the corpse of Mrs. Carmichael lunged at her from the side. Amy shrieked as she fell down the remaining steps.

  “Amy!”

  She could hear Ben rushing forward, as the withered hands of her neighbour grasped her arms in a crushing grip. The corpse grunted, fighting to sink her teeth into flesh.

  “Run!”

  Ben leapt onto the elderly creature’s back, forcing its teeth away. Amy shoved her way free and jumped to her feet. Her scattered mobile phone lay a few feet away, but she kept her eyes glued to Ben as he smashed the woman’s head into the ground again and again. Within seconds, the zombie’s resistance subsided. Rolling away from the body, he jumped to his feet and grabbed Amy’s arm.

  “I said run!”

  He pulled hard, dragging her towards the car. Mrs. Carmichael was no longer a threat, yet something
had spooked him as they jumped in the car. The answer came as soon as they slammed the doors. Amy flinched as a series of blows rained down on the car. She spun round in horror, as countless hands pounded the windows at the rear of the vehicle.

  “Where the hell did they come from?”

  “I told you to run.”

  He turned the key, revving the car to life. The roar of the engine was barely audible over the thunderous roll of fists on metal. He forced the car into reverse and promptly drove through the undead people behind them. Bodies bounced off the exterior, with those still standing continuing their assault. Quickly changing gear, he sped away from the group, pursued by those still able to use their legs.

  Ben lifted his hand from the wheel, examining a wound on his knuckles.

  “Did she bite you?” Amy asked, watching as a trickle of blood crept down to his wrist.

  Ben shook his head, wiping the blood on his knee. “No, I grazed it when we hit the ground.” He looked ahead as they approached a junction. “So, where are we heading?”

  “Elliot Street,” Amy replied, looking back at their dwindling pursuers.

  She turned her attention to the rest of the town, aghast at the scenes of carnage. When they veered around an overturned bus, she had to look away from the mangled bodies inside, many of them children.

  “Why is this happening?” she whispered, closing her eyes as one of the infants watched them pass.

  “I have no idea. Terrorism maybe? It was bound to happen.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Terry.”

  The reminiscence of the dead man created a flicker of sorrow deep within. Amy felt a knot form in her stomach at the thought of a similar fate befalling her family. She longed to get to her mother’s house.

  “Elliot Street? That’s the new housing estate, right?” Ben asked after a while.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where did your mum live before that?”

  “She moved when I transferred over here. She wanted to be with me so I knew somebody.”

  “Nice of her.”

  “Yeah, she hasn’t got anyone else. When I left, she wanted to stay close, so she came with me.”

  “That’s very considerate. So how did she break her leg?”