The Virus

by Lee, Damien

  Lisa sighed, looking at Frank for approval.

  “It’s better than what we got in prison.”

  She smiled, turning on her heel and striding back into the kitchen.

  Frank looked back outside. The zombies had stumbled closer but were still too far away to be a threat. What worried him were the shambling figures in the distance. All faced the house. All approaching. Somehow they knew where to go. As if they knew the farmhouse was occupied. He rubbed his face as the pain in his cheek worsened. The touch of the scathed flesh brought back all his fears. He tried to dismiss the sweat on his brow as being down to the heat. He fought hard to convince himself that the tremors in his hands were down to nerves. He strived to change the notion in his mind that he was becoming one of the undead.

  ***

  Gordon Chesterfield strode through the slaughterhouse amidst a backdrop of metallic thuds. He shot a glance at the loading bay as the steel support started to buckle. An exasperated roar merged with the crescendo of blows as the animals fought to break free.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Turning on his heel, he marched away. The puddles of blood erupted around his boots as he went. Whether it was the life fluid of his livestock or his employees, Gordon couldn’t tell. Everywhere he looked he saw death and decay; a sight he was accustomed to seeing, but not on such a grisly scale. Body parts of humans and animals alike littered the area, all from the original breach. Trying to disregard the grotesque sight, he made for the stairway. An almighty crash echoed around the room, causing Gordon to flinch. He whirled in the direction of the noise and watched as the metal support gave way. The cows on the other side spilled out of the enclosure, skidding clumsily on the blood-soaked floor. Regaining their footing, they caught sight of the abattoir owner.

  Gordon darted up the stairs leading to the raised walkway. He bounded across the metal grating, stopping short when he noticed the machinery below. Looking back to the stairway, he realised the crazed heifers had followed and had almost reached the top.

  “I’m going to make leather jackets out of you cunts!”

  The first animal reared its head around the corner. The others followed, causing the gangway to sway under their bulk. Gordon scaled the metal barrier and dropped back down to ground level. The pool of blood erupted around him as he landed. He darted forward and turned on the meat-separation grinder. At once, the blades burst to life, drowning out the noise of the undead cows.

  “Go back to hell!”

  The animals tried to scale the barrier. As the whirring blades reached maximum velocity, Gordon retrieved his handgun from a holster beneath his jacket. He aimed the Smith & Wesson revolver and, with precision accuracy, fired a single shot. The bullet struck the connecting bolt beneath the strained metal gangplank. On impact, the walkway buckled, sending the cows hurtling into the grinding machine.

  A screech displaced the droning blades as they chewed the carcasses. The machine devoured most of the animals in a haze of bloody mist. Gordon fired at those that missed the contraption, killing them all as he strode away. The din of the machine rumbled on as he made his way up a different flight of stairs leading to his office.

  He replaced his handgun as he entered the well-lit room. Sweat trickled down his chubby face. He glanced out of the large, circular window which occupied the wall behind his desk. The view of the vast landscape, once so calming, now only served as another stressor. Distant figures roamed the farmland, searching for another meal. Gordon turned his back on the countryside. The window opposite him looked out over the factory floor. Once the source of his multi-million-pound empire, it was now a tomb for his fallen employees.

  He slumped in the chair and ran a hand through his mottle-grey hair. He had learned a long time ago that money couldn’t buy him happiness. But now he realised it couldn’t save him from the end of the world either. He reached into the cupboard beneath his desk and produced an unopened bottle of whisky.

  Leaning back in his chair, he gulped down the honey-coloured liquid as the sun disappeared beyond the hills.

  ***

  Frank dragged on the cigarette clasped between his lips. He leaned against the balcony, looking out at the darkening sky. He had always planned to spend his first night of freedom out in the open. Taking in the cool night air, looking up at the stars with a cigar in one hand and a bottle of the finest whisky in another. True, he almost got what he wanted; a cheap brand of cigarette and a bottle of rum. But the fact it was during a zombie apocalypse was a bit of a downer.

  He blew a cloud of smoke into the air as he heard somebody enter the room behind him.

  “Wow, what have they done in here?” Lisa asked, looking around at the previously blood-soaked bedroom.

  “They threw the sheets out of the window, flipped the mattress, and laid towels over the blood on the carpet.”

  “Home sweet home,” Lisa said as she joined him outside on the balcony. “So what’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?”

  “Yeah, you didn’t say a word while we were eating.”

  “I did.”

  “What?”

  “I told those fat bastards to do the dishes when we finished.”

  “Fine.” She sniggered. “You said one thing.”

  The pair fell silent as he took another drag of the cigarette. After blowing a plume of grey smoke into the air, he flicked the ash over the balcony. They watched as the glowing embers drifted down, landing on the horde of zombies below. They grappled furiously, reaching high towards the elevated couple.

  “You still think you’re going to turn into one?” Lisa asked, her eyes fixed on the eager crowd below.

  “Who knows? We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Do you feel different at all? Dizzy? Headache?”

  “I feel sick, but that might be down to your cooking.”

  Lisa shoved him playfully as he took a final drag of the cigarette.

  “Ready to go back downstairs?” she asked.

  “Might as well. There’s not much of a view out here now.”

  He flicked the remains of the cigarette onto the onlookers before following the woman inside. The door leading to Tina’s room was closed.

  “Where’s our gothic princess?” he asked as they strode downstairs.

  “Locked herself in the tower.”

  Frank smirked as they entered the living room, a smile that quickly faded when he eyed the robust couple occupying the couch.

  “What are you two doing?”

  “You kicked us out of our room, remember?” Simon answered.

  “I was trying to be courteous by smoking outside, you ungrateful prick. I won’t bother next time.”

  Frank sat in the armchair, watching him expectantly. “Well, off you go.”

  “What?”

  “I want to get my head down. I’m not sleeping while you’re in here.”

  He glared at the couple as they got to their feet and marched out of the room, muttering obscenities as they left.

  “Man, you really don’t like them,” Lisa said.

  “I hold a grudge for life.”

  “But what did they do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, how about wanting to kick me out because I’m a criminal? Or how about leaving me to fight that crazy woman upstairs on my own? Or better yet, because they’re a bunch of pompous twats who would sooner see me dead than in the same vicinity as them.”

  “Okay, I see your point.”

  “Good. Now, why don’t you get that bottle of rum?”

  “Get it yourself.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow at Lisa, who stood beside him with her arms crossed. With a snort, he jumped to his feet and strode into the kitchen as she settled in his chair. The dimly lit room provided little insight as to where she had hidden the bottle.

  “Where did you stash it?” Frank searched the cupboards, dismayed at the lack of contents.

  “You’re not going to find it in there.” Lisa laughed, joining Frank as he looked in the b
in.

  “Then where is it?”

  “Where it should be.” She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a vegetable tray. Frank looked on as she reached into the green foliage and retrieved the bottle. “You can’t drink rum if it isn’t chilled.”

  “Chilled rum? First I’ve heard of it.”

  “Now all we need is to find some glasses.”

  “We don’t need glasses.” Frank took the bottle and entered the living room.

  “You criminals are so vulgar.” Lisa watched as he took a swig from the bottle.

  “You not joining me?”

  “Of course, I’m not letting you get drunk on your own.”

  She sat beside him on the worn sofa, prying the bottle out of his hands. Frank watched as she gulped the liquid, holding the bottle high.

  “Hey leave some for the fishes.”

  “The fish will probably be dead.”

  “Fine, well leave some for me.” He took the bottle back and took a hefty swig.

  “You want to be careful, that might go straight to your head.”

  “Trust me, darling, you’ll be seeing stars way before me.”

  “Really? When was the last time you had a drink?”

  “The night I was arrested.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “Five years.”

  “Well, if it’s been five years since you had a drink, I think you oughta slow down. Your body won’t be used to it.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Frank laughed at the prospect, but as he tipped the bottle for another swig, he knew she was right. The weightless feeling of euphoria was slowly creeping up on him.

  “So how did you end up in Harrodale?”

  Frank looked at her curiously as he passed the bottle back. “You really want to know?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, waiting for the words to come to him. “I murdered my wife with a hammer.”

  The statement didn’t seem to faze Lisa. “Really? What made you do that?”

  “I found her fucking another guy.”

  This time Lisa almost choked on the rum. “You’re kidding?” she spluttered.

  “Nope, I came home early one night and they were going at it like rabbits. So I picked up a hammer and beat them to death. Or at least that’s what I thought. Turned out the guy survived.”

  “Did you plead guilty?”

  “Their blood was all over my clothes when they arrested me. I could hardly play dumb.”

  “No, but you could have pleaded diminished responsibility. People do that all the time.”

  Frank laughed and shook his head. “You mean the whole ‘I lost my mind’? Or ‘it was the heat of the moment’ bullshit? No. I knew exactly what I was doing when I murdered her.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  Frank considered the question. “Kind of, yeah. When I started hitting her, she was dead after the second or third blow. It was too quick. If she was alive now, I’d watch her get ripped apart by those things.”

  “Wow, you’re really fucked up, huh?”

  “I did warn you.”

  “Well, just think; the guy might’ve survived back then, but he’s probably dead now.”

  “There’s no ‘probably’ about it, I know he’s dead.” He took the bottle from Lisa, sensing her gaze. “When I found out he was alive, I arranged a hit. A guy inside had connections. He agreed to organise it, providing I paid him back. He did, and I did.”

  “How did you repay him?”

  “By fighting for him.”

  He took another swig from the bottle, noticing how much they had drunk in such a small space of time. A silence enveloped them. He handed the bottle back, watching as Lisa studied the remaining liquid.

  “I bet it feels good to be able to taste alcohol again,” she said after a while.

  Frank nodded.

  “In a way, this whole zombie thing has worked out well for you.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, you’ve got your freedom again. And in a world without laws. It must be a criminal’s paradise.”

  “I admit it has its perks. I just wish those fucking zombies would give it a rest.”

  “They won’t bother us in here. We’re all alone.”

  “Locked in a house with a murderer? No wonder that lot are shitting themselves. You guys have it rough.”

  “Yeah, I’d be completely at your mercy. After all, there are other things you haven’t had for five years.”

  Frank sneered. “I’m not going to rape you if that’s what you think.”

  “Hey, it’s not rape if you’ve got consent.”

  He looked over at Lisa and saw the mischievous glint in her eyes. Before he had time to react, she was straddling him, pushing the bottle aside and mashing her lips against his.

  “Whoa, hang on,”

  “What?”

  “Let’s slow it down a bit. I wanna enjoy this.”

  She sat back on his lap. “Okay then, I’ll give you it slower.”

  Frank watched as she rocked on his legs, moving her hips seductively as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt.

  “Now you’re talking. This is turning into a good apocalypse.”

  “Let’s make the most of it.”

  He looked on as she spread her shirt wide. A floral tattoo adorned her side, rising up her ribs and under the cup of her black bra. She dangled the shirt above his face before releasing it, concealing his view. Frank closed his eyes, inhaling the lingering notes of perfume. He pulled the garment aside, noticing that she had unclasped her bra and now held it loosely over her breasts. She pushed her chest into his face, concealing his view as she pulled the bra free.

  “These are great tits.”

  Frank groaned as she leaned back, allowing him to massage the smooth flesh of her breasts. Slowly, she slipped to her knees, her hands massaging his crotch.

  A flurry of hurried footsteps caused his eyes to snap open. Lisa jumped to her feet as Tina burst into the room. Her face, at first shrouded in a cloak of alarm, quickly lightened as she looked between the pair.

  “Well, well, what’s going on here? You two? I never would’ve guessed.”

  “What do you want?” Lisa demanded, placing her arms across her chest.

  “Just to let you know that we’ve got company; living company.”

  “What?!” Frank jumped to his feet and dashed to the window.

  “There’s a car in the distance,” Tina continued. “You’ll be able to see the headlights in a minute. They’re coming this way.”

  “The granddaughter,” Lisa said, appearing at their side. Frank turned, noticing that she was wearing her shirt once more.

  “What are we gonna do? Food is scarce enough as it is.”

  “It’s not that which worries me,” Frank said. “If they’ve come from town, they could have the entire population behind them.”

  23

  The sun had started to sink ahead of them, with the promise of darkness at its back. Despite it disappearing from view, the heat inside the car was suffocating. Amy wound the window down as the warm beads of sweat formed on her brow.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Ben said, winding down his own window and resting his arm on the outside of the car.

  Amy leaned closer to the cold air. It cooled the film of sweat on her face, soothing her with its medicating touch. She inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma of the countryside.

  “Brings back some fond memories,” Ben said, looking around at the fields as they passed.

  “Did you grow up around here?”

  “Yeah, when I was a kid. I moved to the town when I was eighteen and haven’t been back since.”

  “How come?”

  “Nothing really to come back for. Fran had gone off to university and my old man was always preoccupied with work. I just fancied something different.”

  Amy nodded, casting her eyes back outside.

  “It’s goo
d to be back,” Ben continued.

  “Just a shame it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered as they rounded the remains of a cow in the middle of the road. “I wonder what turns them.”

  Amy shrugged, shaking her head as another dead cow came into view. “If it’s a virus it could be spread by airborne droplets; coughing, sneezing and that sort of thing.”

  “I haven’t seen any of them cough or sneeze. They just bite.”

  “Spread in their saliva, perhaps?”

  Ben nodded. “Maybe.”

  They came to a halt as Ben veered onto another road. Amy closed her eyes as they accelerated once more. The wind whipped her hair back as she leaned closer to the window. She let out a sigh of relief, inhaling the fresh countryside air once more. Her eyes snapped open when she detected a hint of smoke. Looking around, she scoured the endless fields, trying to find a source.

  “Do you smell that?”

  “What?”

  “Smoke.”

  She watched Ben inhale deeply, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, what is that?”

  “It’s not the car, is it?”

  “I hope not.” Ben reduced their speed as the pungent smell grew worse. “It smells like rubber.”

  “But where’s it coming from?”

  They both looked ahead as they reached the pinnacle of a bank. At once, the source of the smell became apparent. A lone car ahead of them burned ferociously. A dark plume of smoke hung high above it.

  “There!”

  Ben stepped on the accelerator, pushing the vehicle harder as they sped down the bank.

  Amy sank back in the seat as the car tipped a hundred miles per hour. She kept her eyes glued to the burning remains as they drew near.

  “There’s someone there,” she gasped, jabbing a finger at the windshield. The pair stared at the lone figure that motioned to them frantically.

  “Do you think he’s one of them?” she asked, straining her eyes. The dwindling light offered no support, but she could see the figure jumping up and down, his arms waving.

  “I’ve never seen them do that before.”

  Ben slammed on the brakes as the man ran into the middle of the road. His clothes hung loose from his skinny frame. He readjusted them as the car drew near.