by Lee, Damien
A tense moment of silence passed before a voice answered.
“What?”
Gus breathed a sigh of relief. “Get your arse down here.”
He strode out of the room, reloading his handgun with a new magazine as he went. Frank followed as they retraced their steps back down to the waiting group. His eyes roamed over the addition to their party.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Gus demanded as he set eyes on the soldier.
“I untied him,” Lisa replied.
“Why?”
“We’re fighting for survival here. We need every man we can get, and a trained soldier is a valuable asset.”
“My thoughts exactly.” The soldier snarled. He held a hand to his bloody ear, his unblinking eyes fixed on Gus.
“Don’t try anything funny,” Gus said. He turned as Lurch rejoined the group.
“You almost hit me!” the tall man snapped.
“And you almost blew up our lifeline. That was a truck-load of ammunition you were firing at!”
“Look, can we stay focused here?” Lisa urged, looking between the two men. “Why don’t you show us these planes?”
“Did you get them all?” Gus asked his gothic henchman.
“One or two might have got behind us, but I got most of them.”
Gus laughed indignantly as he walked through another doorway. The group followed, stopping when he reached another barricaded door.
“Right then, you can go first,” he told Lurch.
“What?”
“You let them past; you go check if they’re out back.”
“Fine.”
“Wait,” Tina said. “I’ll come with you.”
Lurch turned to look at her, a slight smile adorning his face.
“Isn’t that cute? Nice knowing you, sweetheart.” With that, Gus moved the barrels aside until the doorway was clear. With a sweeping arm, he motioned for the pair to leave.
“Here, you can’t go out there without a weapon,” Lisa said as she offered the handgun to Lurch.
“I have a weapon.” He pulled the combat knife from the sheath on his belt and turned towards the door.
“A knife?” Lisa gasped, looking at Gus. “He’s going out there with a knife?”
“He’s a crazy bastard.”
They all looked on as Tina and Lurch swung the doors wide. Bright sunlight flooded the room, but no zombies accompanied it as they all shielded their eyes. The two in front stepped outside, scouring the open courtyard for a threat. When nothing came, they turned back to the group.
“Looks empty.”
Gus strode forward with the others in tow. The first thing Frank saw was the procession of fighter jets towards the end of the courtyard. But once his eyes had taken in their route to freedom, he also noticed the large metal dome in the centre.
“What exactly is this place?” He scowled, turning to face the soldier.
“A barracks for overseas operations. But its primary use is for weapons research and development.”
“We don’t need to hear all this,” Gus insisted. “Let’s see if Maverick can get those birds in the sky.” He winked at Simon, who didn’t return his affection.
“Actually, why don’t we tell them more about this place, Gus?” Zielinski said. He stepped forward as Razor shot him a menacing glare.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked, looking between the two men.
“Gus doesn’t want you to know about this place. If you did, you’d know how this whole zombie thing started.”
The gangland boss clenched his fists as Zielinski turned to look at the others.
“And more precisely, you’d learn how Gus Razor caused the end of the world.”
31
“What’s he doing?” Amy gasped as another shot ricocheted nearby.
“He’s a prick.”
“But doesn’t he know it’s you?”
The machine they had sought refuge behind clanged as a bullet struck the exterior.
“Probably,” Ben said. “He did say if he ever saw me again, he’d shoot me in the face.”
Amy stared at Ben with wide eyes. He shrugged as another shot hit the ground near their feet. Silence fell as the man reloaded.
“Let’s move.”
The words barely escaped Ben’s mouth before he disappeared around the side of the machine. Amy ran after him, stopping in the middle of the factory where Ben aimed the rifle at his father.
“Stop!”
Ben watched through the scope as the elderly man fumbled with a handful of bullets.
“I said stop!”
He fired a shot at the wall beside his father. The man flinched, dropping the bullets and magazine onto the metal walkway.
“I taught you to shoot better than that!” he said.
“That was a warning shot. Stop trying to kill us.”
“Have you been bitten?”
“No.”
“Then get up here, I haven’t got all day.”
They watched the man scoop up the magazine and the few bullets which had not fallen through the grates. Muttering to himself, he stormed towards his office. They walked across the factory floor, stepping over dead animals and factory workers. Amy realised with horror that some of the men had no other afflictions apart from a bullet hole in their head.
“You don’t think he killed them before the outbreak, do you?” she asked, motioning towards the bodies.
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
A sick feeling started to form in the pit of her stomach as they ascended the stairwell. Their feet gave off a dull echo as they went, continuing as they reached the top. They took one last look at the carnage below, before heading into Gordon Chesterfield’s office.
“What’re you waiting for?” The old man demanded as they appeared in the doorway.
Ben stepped into the room with Amy at his back. They watched as he poured a tumbler full of whisky.
“Is this all you’ve been doing?” Ben asked. “Sitting here getting drunk for the past two days?”
“Three days, actually.”
“Three?”
“Yeah, I was gonna be in deep shit with the law. I could’ve gone away for quite a while if it wasn’t for this fabulous blessing.”
“Blessing? What do you mean blessing?”
“I mean, I’m a free man. They can’t put me away if there are no coppers left.” Gordon beamed as he raised the glass to his lips.
“Yeah? Well, your blessing took your daughter’s life!” Ben yelled.
Gordon’s eyes widened. He stared at his son in horror. “Francis?”
“Dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“She was eating people, Dad! So yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure!”
They watched as the elderly man’s face contorted. He let out an agonised cry and he crumpled in his seat. Tears streamed down his face as he placed his head in his hands.
“She’s gone. Gone, and it’s my fault.”
“What?”
Gordon’s breathing became heavy and a growl replaced his sobbing. “She’s gone. Gone, and it’s my fault!” With that, he lunged to his feet, causing the pair to step back. “All my fault!”
He snatched the tumbler from the table and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered into a hundred pieces, showering the carpet in whisky-coated shards. They watched as he slumped back in his seat, staring blankly out of the window behind his desk. A few seconds passed, with only the dripping alcohol filling the silent atmosphere.
“What do you mean it’s your fault?” Ben asked. He stepped forward, taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite his father. Amy followed, eyeing the man cautiously as she sat down.
“Everything,” Gordon replied. “It’s all my fault. All the death. All the chaos. All those things!” He pointed an accusing finger out of the window. Ben followed his gaze, groaning when he spotted the herd of cows approaching the factory.
“We need to go.”
“What do yo
u mean it’s your fault?” Amy pressed, ignoring the urgency in Ben’s voice.
“I spread it across the country. It’s my fault.”
“Why is it your fault?”
“I helped an old friend. His entire livestock was slaughtered. Eighty cows! He was going to go bust unless I helped him.”
Ben’s urgency disappeared as he fixed his father with a stern look. “What did you do, Dad?”
“I told him to bring them down. We stripped the meat and sent it out.”
“You sold infected meat?”
“I didn’t know it was infected! This was nearly two weeks before all this shit started. I told him I’d sell it on for him without any fuss. Then I started getting emails from different shops. They said their customers were reporting food poisoning. They were questioning my product and demanding an investigation. Every day, more and more complaints kept coming in. Then, they stopped.”
“How far did you transport it?” Ben asked.
Gordon looked up. Tears rolled down his face as he regarded the pair. “Nationwide.”
“Eighty cows? How did you manage to spread it that far?”
“Mince,” Gordon muttered. “We minced it with the other meat we had stored to cover it up.”
“So this entire thing started because of you?” Amy gasped.
Gordon nodded. “I was just trying to help him out. I didn’t know it would turn people into cannibals!”
“The food poisoning,” Amy gasped. “The hospital was overrun with cases of food poisoning. That’s how it started.”
Gordon nodded. His unfocused eyes staring at the desk.
A delighted screech resounded from the entrance of the factory. The undead animals had arrived.
“Right, c’mon we need to go,” Ben said. Amy leapt from her seat as he grabbed his father’s arm. “Dad, c’mon.”
The old man smiled knowingly.
“C’mon!” Ben snapped.
Gordon slipped his arm out of his son’s grasp and reached for his bottle of whisky. “It’s poetic, isn’t it?” he mused, more to himself than the others. “Almost like a form of justice.”
“What?”
“I’ve been slaughtering animals for thirty-five years. I built an empire from killing. Now it’s time for the animals to get their revenge.”
“Revenge? What are you talking about?”
“You better leave, son. As we speak, those delightful bovines will be making their way up the stairs.”
Amy glanced out into the factory. The undead cattle were ascending the stairwell. “He’s right, we need to get out of here,” she said.
Ben looked back at his father.
“Go on,” Gordon smiled, shaking his son’s hand. “I’d rather be in heaven with your mother and Francis than running around this shithole with you two.”
Ben smirked. He nodded and released his father’s hand. The metallic clatter of hooves on the walkway sounded as he stepped out of the office. The first of the crazed heifers was only a few meters away. It snarled at the pair before its head splattered under a hail of shotgun fire.
The couple retreated backward, firing at the animals approaching the office door.
“Stop wasting your bullets and get out of here!” Gordon bellowed.
The pair continued to unload their guns, leaving behind a procession of mangled animals. With Gordon’s safety secured for a while longer, they turned and ran to the end of the walkway. A large, circular window looked out onto the moors below.
“The car is just down there,” Amy said. “If we lower ourselves down, the fall won’t be that high.”
Ben nodded in agreement, aware of another wave of animals making their way across the factory floor below them. He stepped back as Amy swung the butt of her shotgun at the window. The glass shattered, leaving a jagged exit into the countryside. She knocked the remaining glass out of the frame and scrambled onto the window ledge.
“It looks pretty high,” Ben said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Feel free to go first. You can catch me.”
Ben laughed as he looked back onto the walkway. “We best hurry, if we wait around any longer, my dad will start taking pot-shots at us again.”
Amy smiled as Ben lowered himself off the ledge. “Be careful.”
She couldn’t tell how far away he was from the floor. She watched with bated breath as he hit the ground hard. His legs buckled as he landed, but he made a sharp recovery as he jumped to his feet.
“Are you okay?” she called.
“Yeah, c’mon.”
Ben shouldered his rifle, firing two shots into the building. A startled screech came from within until a third shot silenced it. Amy took a deep breath as she crouched down. She turned on her stomach, lowering herself over the edge. Holding the shotgun and clinging to the ledge proved difficult. She tried to adjust the weapon as she eased herself down. Her arms trembled, aching as she tried to correct her grip. The shotgun fell as she slipped from the ledge. She let out a shriek as she fell through the air, a weightless experience that abruptly ended when she hit the ground.
“Shit, are you alright?” Ben cast a concerned glance over his shoulder before looking back into the building. He fired another shot as Amy rose to her feet.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She gently applied weight to her throbbing ankle. The pain was prominent, but not enough to prevent her from walking. She heard Ben approach.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She hobbled to the car as Ben shot the last cow that ventured outside. The rest, Amy assumed, were in the building. She looked back towards the circular window in Gordon Chesterfield’s office. There was nobody there. She wondered whether he was still alive or if the cows had administered his warped view of justice. She glanced at Ben and found him staring at the window too.
“I’m sorry, Ben.”
“No sweat.”
As they entered the car, Ben handed her his rifle. She placed both weapons in the footrest as he turned the car around. With a roar of the engine, they raced away from the gore-filled slaughterhouse. Amy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the old man they had left behind, but something about his story didn’t seem to add up. Her brows furrowed as the reason dawned on her.
“Y’know I don’t think your dad did start all this.”
“What do you mean? He sent infected meat all over the UK.”
“I know, but how did the meat become infected?”
“His friend’s cattle were slaughtered.”
“Yeah, but by what?”
She knew the realisation had hit as soon as Ben’s eyes widened.
“So we know how it spread across the country, but what started it?”
***
Gordon sat back in his chair, watching the red sports car drive off into the distance. The prospect of his actions leading to his daughter’s death was something he could not bear. He remembered the phone call like it was yesterday.
“Gordon, it’s Harry.” The elderly man’s voice had quivered, fighting back tears as he spoke.
“Harry? What’s wrong?”
“It’s my cattle. They’ve been slaughtered.”
“Slaughtered? By who?”
“A fucking lunatic. He’s torn them apart!”
“What?”
“I came out to check on them and they’ve all been ripped apart. Some were still alive, but I had to kill them; their guts were hanging out. Then I saw the psycho crouched next to one. He was eating it! He looked up when I got near and just… smiled at me. He was covered in blood and still had raw meat in his mouth.”
“Harry,” Gordon said. “Is this a wind up?”
“Does it sound like a fucking wind up, Gordon? I blew his head off!”
“What?”
“He got up and came at me. I had to shoot him. It was self-defence, Gordon, I swear!”
“You need to ring the police, Harry.”
“The police? He was unarmed. They’ll do me for murder!”
Harry burst into tears, sobbing down the phone. Gordon sat back in his chair, staring out at the moors.
“It doesn’t make a difference, anyway.” Harry snivelled, “I had over eighty cows. All gone. I’m ruined.”
Gordon sat forward, grabbing his schedule from the desk.
“Look, Harry, I can help you out. I’ll suspend all deliveries today. Load them up and start bringing them here. I’ll get them treated, chopped up and distributed”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah. But listen, I’m putting my neck out for you here. You can’t tell a soul, understand?”
“But how will you do it? Some of them have been completely stripped.”
“Just bring them all down. I’ll work out something when I see them.”
“What about the crazy bastard I shot?”
“Dig a big hole and bury him. If somebody comes looking, feign ignorance. I’ll do the same.”
“Thanks, Gordon. You have no idea how much this means.”
“You’ll obviously make a loss, Harry. But if it keeps you from going bust, then that’s all that matters, right?”
“Right.”
“Good, start bringing them down and I’ll see what I can do.”
He had hung up the phone and emitted an agonised moan. He rose to his feet and retrieved a quarter-full bottle of whisky from the shelf. He had poured himself a drink and pondered long and hard how he would distribute the meat.
Gordon held the new bottle of whisky to his mouth and took a hefty swig. He considered how things could have been different had he not helped Harry. Was he still alive? Was he aware he’d played a part in creating the chaos? Or was he now partaking in it?
The first undead animal stepped into the office, breaking his contemplation. He looked at the young cow with a sneer.
“You gotta be bigger than that if you wanna take me.”
The cow took another step before he shot the animal between the eyes. He looked back out of the window as the undead creature crumpled to the floor. The sports car was no longer in sight, leaving the vast landscape completely still. He stared out at the endless fields, thinking about his daughter. He felt empty inside, despite a stomach full of whisky. A guttural growl announced the arrival of a second cow.
