by T. L. Frost
Zombies Zombies Zombies
Parts 1 to 5
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OUTBREAKS
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By T.L. Frost
Part One: SPAM
Spam
The food situation did not look good. Some crackers, beans and of course the tinned Spam. Not that he disliked it of course, he loved it and right now it was worth more than gold to him. For over a week he'd been saving it - hoping he wouldn't need to open it - and make the decision. The tinned Spam represented a milestone for Tom, an important, life or death one - eating it meant leaving his apartment and going outside.
Chapter 1
Tom finished work very early on the Sunday morning, a long tiring twelve hour nightshift in the factory where he worked making car parts. Twelve hours on his feet in the constant artificial light and he was ready to crash out on his sofa with a drink and get some sleep. It hadn’t helped that so many people were off sick and a lot of the people who did make it in to work didn’t look well. The drive home had been a nightmare, the rain falling so heavily in the dark of pre-dawn, that he was forced to drive slowly all the way. Then some drunken idiots had run across the road right in front of his car, yelling incoherently as he slammed on his brakes, he thought he saw blood too, they'd probably been fighting. Walking through his door he was soaked through and on top of that his neighbours were at it again, shouting and screaming incoherently at each other, their muffled voices coming through the walls of his home. Every weekend the same, drink and loud music followed by arguments. Tom was planning on moving soon, he liked peace and quiet when he got home.
"The hell with it." He said, turning his stereo on loud and opening a bottle of vodka.
A quick change into dry clothes and he started to relax as he worked his way through the bottle. The next day he woke early, his body clock all over from the shift work. His head was aching and his mouth was dry as he stumbled to the refrigerator for some water. "Never again." He said, not for the first time. At least it was quiet now, he thought, looking out of the window. His neighbour’s car was there, parked askew with the driver’s door partially open.
"What a knob-head." He mumbled shaking his head, then he jumped back into bed and fell asleep instantly.
It was midday when he woke again. Throwing on his clothes from the day before and hearing his stomach rumble, he looked in the fridge - not much there "Should've gone shopping after work.” He said to himself with a sigh, but the weather had been terrible.
Making a stack of toast and a large mug of coffee, he sat down in the living room and ate. Another cup of coffee, and he was feeling almost human again. Picking up the remote, he started flicking through the channels. There were a lot of advertisements on, the kind they normally show late at night when most people are sleeping. Amazing new steam-gadgets or exercise DVDs guaranteed to get you fit. Tom checked the time, almost one o’clock in the afternoon. Other channels were just static or repeats. He tried the news channel, at least that was live.
“…stay at home. The sudden surge in sickness across the country has seen the NHS overwhelmed.” Said the news reporter on location outside a hospital “Extreme flu like symptoms and fever have been reported all across Great Britain. Experts have as yet to come up with a reason for this sudden mass illness. Opposition MPs are calling for the resignation of the current Health Minister, claiming years of cut backs to NHS funding has left the service unable to cope.”
The camera panned left, stopping on the entrance to the accident and emergency department. A long queue of people were waiting to get in and glimpses inside when the doors opened showed it was full of people, some sitting, some standing. Most of the people looked ill, coughing, sneezing, some even throwing up.
“As you can see.” Continued the reporter “The large numbers of people seeking treatment is too much for the under staffed emergency ward. Doctors have stated, and I quote ‘We are doing everything possible with the limited resources at our disposal, extra staff have been called in and supplies of anti-flu medication ordered.‘.
The camera panned right, focusing on the reporter again.
“So far no statement has been made about the effectiveness of the anti-flu medications. The government Health Minister has called a press conference for this evening and we will be providing complete coverage from six o’clock. This is Henry Withins reporting, now over to Sarah in the studio.”
The channel switched back to the live feed from the news studio as Tom sat watching in amazement. He had never heard of any flu spreading so fast before, some of the people on TV had looked extremely ill. The live feed from the studio was quiet. It was working, or so Tom thought, but nobody was there. The camera pointing to an empty desk, the two chairs empty, some papers scattered about on the desk itself. Only the slight flickering of a light showing that it wasn’t just a still image being shown.
“What the hell?” Said Tom leaning forward and studying the picture.
The headlines scrolled continuously across the bottom of the screen.
‘Flu outbreak spreads like wildfire across Britain… NHS at breaking point… Reports of people collapsing in the street… Health Minister taken ill, junior Minister to hold press conference… Prime Minister and other heads of government fall victim to flu epidemic…’
Tom reached for his phone, switched to silent while he slept, he saw missed text messages and calls.
‘Tom you seen the news mate? Think I might be coming down with it txt me back’ – Mikey
‘Need to take a rain-check this weekend babe, not feeling too well, might have caught this damn flu’ – Laura
‘Phone me when you get this’ – Mum
‘Tom get in touch hun, let me know if you’re ok, think I’ve got a bit of this bug going around’ – Mum
He replied to some texts and tried phoning his Mother but got no answer.
‘I’m fine Mum, you take care of yourself I’ll pop around soon’ – Tom
The news feed continued unchanging for a while and Tom was just about to try some other channels. Something or someone rushed past the camera, just for an instant. Tom watched, thinking maybe a reporter had appeared but all was still again. He reached for his boots, fastening the laces and getting ready to go out, when a low moaning sound came from the TV. It quickly turned to a Growl followed by sounds of crashing and glass breaking… Tom sat watching, his eyes not moving from the screen, straining to hear any more sounds…
“Tomorrow’s weather should be a lot brighter and sunnier…”
The scene shifted to a recording of the weather forecast from the day before. Tom looked at the sunlight coming in through the window.
“Well they got it right for a change.” He said to himself.
He finished getting ready, then decided to wait and see if the live feed came back on, someone was in the studio and he wanted to see if they were still there. Making himself another coffee he settled down and waited. The weather report changed to the report outside of the emergency ward at the hospital. Watching more closely this time, Tom could see just how ill the people looked. Some were sat down, leaning against the wall looking exhausted, their pale grey faces staring forward sightlessly. Nobody was trying to help them, there were just too many. Eventually the report finished again.
“…This is Henry Withins reporting, now over to Sarah in the studio.”
The picture switched back to the studio. The camera had been moved, now pointing to the side and down, there was no sound from the studio but what caught Tom’s attention was the lens of the camera, something red and sticky was on it, slowly dripping downwards. Tom watched mesmerised as the lines of red liquid slowly made their way down.
“That looks like…” Said Tom.
Nothing else happened and Tom watched until it switched over
to the weather report again. He checked his phone, no replies to any texts he had sent. Grabbing his coat, he looked out of the window to see if he would need it, not trusting the weather report after the previous day’s downpour. His neighbour’s car was still there, door still ajar. Tom looked around, it all seemed quiet, and then he froze, his coat half on. A loud primal scream echoed off the walls of the buildings, quickly joined by others. Tom waited, looking around for the source of the screams, a shiver running up his back as they grew louder. From the right he saw a man running, a look of terror on his face as he kept glancing behind. His shirt was torn and covered in blood, ripped open at the front. The screams came again, seemingly from all around. The man looked back again, then tripped, losing his balance he went down hard into the gravel border around the parking spaces in front of Tom’s apartment block. Regaining his feet, he checked his bloody, shredded hands, breathing hard from the run. He looked back again and panic crossed his features, a group of people ran into view, pale grey faces searching and quickly finding him. Tom couldn’t believe what he saw, they were like the sick people he had seen on TV, gaunt waxy features and glassy eyes but ten times worse. Some of them were also covered in what looked like blood, their hands and faces smeared with the sticky red substance.
“Oh my god, No!” Screamed the man, looking around frantically.
The people chasing him leapt forward, stiff arms and legs propelling them onwards, some falling then jumping back up as they recklessly sprinted for the lone man. The man looked around, near exhaustion from the run and saw the open door of Tom’s neighbour’s car. He jumped in, slamming the door shut and locking it. Tom watched, open mouthed, as the chasers flew at the car, some crashing straight into it and falling to be trampled, others circling and attacking the windows with their fists, snarling and screaming, desperate to get inside. Some climbed over the fallen bodies of other chasers, like ants scrambling over an obstacle, to get on top of the car, smashing their hands down like clubs against the roof and the windscreen. The man inside screamed, a desperate, pitiful sound, as the roof began to buckle and the windscreen cracked. Tom could see some attackers fingers and arms twisted and broken, torn flesh and spurting blood covering the car as they hammered at it regardless of pain or injury, trying to pull it apart and reach the man inside, the windows were dripping blood blocking any view inside. Then the windscreen broke, one of the chasers punching its hand straight through, grabbing at the man. He screamed again, panic and terror giving him a last burst of strength as the windscreen was ripped away. The man pushed open a door as other chasers swarmed through the opening where the windscreen had been, pushing one aside and trying to stand and run, he got halfway out of the car then stopped, a sudden jerking motion. Straining with the last ounce of strength he had, he tried to pull himself out, hands gripping the frame of the car, knuckles white from the effort, teeth gritted and eyes wide. Then he jerked backwards, disappearing back inside the car. Tom watched as the car rocked, the screams of the man inside cut short as more of the chasers fought to get inside. After a while one scrambled out of the car, holding an arm, it raised it and took a bite, blood dripping down its face as it looked around blankly, chewing its prize. It glanced in Tom’s direction and he ducked instinctively, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, breathing hard, his heartbeat sounding like a drum in his ears.
“Fuck me.” He said “Zombies!”
Chapter 2
After a short while Tom had recovered enough to risk a glance out of the window again. Most of the zombies had gone. The car, its inside now covered in blood, looked empty. The ones that remained wandered about aimlessly, eyes blank, grey faces sunken and expressionless. Their faces and arms, that Tom could see, were covered in dark patches like bruises and many had fresh bloodstains on them. Tom went back to the living room and checked his phone again, still no replies. The news channel showed the same repeated images from before, the report from outside a hospital and the eerily calm live feed from the studio, the drips of blood on the camera lens now still as they dried. Tom heard a banging sound somewhere outside and rushed to the window to look. The zombies still walked around but a little faster, heads turning as if looking for something and again the banging sound came, like a hammer, seeming to come from a house opposite Tom’s apartment. One of the zombies froze for a second, eyes fixed on the house, then it lifted its head, mouth opening wide to let out a terrifying roar, almost a scream, and it rushed for the house. The others nearby answered with a scream of their own and followed, arms and legs flailing stiffly as they rushed towards the sound of the noise. From all around other screams could be heard, sending a chill down Tom’s back as he watched while trying to keep out of sight. The first zombie reached the house, running into the door at full speed, the sound of splintering wood loud as it bounced off, falling backwards, others close by rushed for the door too, trampling the first zombie as it struggled to rise, the first few were stopped by the door but more and more came, pushing forward until with a loud crash the door gave way. The zombies crowded the doorway, desperate to get into the house, others hammered at windows, the glass breaking easily, allowing them to climb through. Soon the house was surrounded, at least thirty zombies fighting to get inside as their screams attracted more and more. Then other screams joined them, this time from the people in the house, panicked, terrified sounds which sent Tom back to the floor, his head held tightly in his hands as he covered his ears, trying not to hear.
“This can’t be happening.” He said to himself.
Ten minutes later Tom risked another look. The screams had stopped and a sort of calm had settled over the scene again. A lot of zombies were walking around, spreading out from the house, some showing fresh blood stains, others carrying or even chewing on lumps of bloody flesh. A whole family gone in minutes, Tom shook his head in disbelief. The family must have been trying to barricade themselves in, Tom thought that was a good idea but he needed to be quiet. Luckily, since he lived in a small upstairs apartment, there was only one way in or out. One door between him and who knew how many psychopathic, flesh hungry cannibals. Moving quietly, Tom went downstairs. Looking out of the small window above the door, he couldn’t see anything moving, he double checked the door was locked then went back upstairs. He needed something to block the door with. The sofa was out of the question, moving that down some stairs would be too noisy he thought. He started with a stationary exercise bike he had owned for about six months and used maybe twice.
“I knew this would come in handy.” He said quietly as he lowered it into place.
It fit nicely behind the door, blocking the small entrance, then he carefully piled everything he could around it, small pieces of furniture and junk from cupboards. Eventually the entrance was blocked and Tom breathed a small sigh of relief. The rest of the day he spent looking out of his apartment’s windows, with the TV on in the background, though nothing was happening. Still the news channel was all that he could find and the repeated cycle of the outside report and live studio feed never changed. The view outside was different. For most of the day Tom could see groups of zombies walking around, heads constantly turning as if looking for something and Tom had seen what happened when they found it. He slowly closed the blinds on his windows when it seemed clear outside, which wasn’t often. He was surprised how many of them he could see. Always walking around, their grey, wide eyes always searching. Pale blotchy skin covered in the dark, almost black, bruises he had noticed earlier. They never attacked each other and seemed to group together as they moved, sometimes one would let out a moan, a deep, slow sound which sent a shiver up Tom’s back. Others nearby would repeat it, almost as if answering.
As night fell Tom’s spirits sank. He had seen no other survivors, just lots and lots of zombies. Though he guessed anyone else out there would be barricaded in like him. He had received no replies to any texts or calls he had made. Could everyone he knew be gone? His eyes began to droop as it got darker, stress, fear and adrenaline takin
g their toll and leaving him exhausted. He picked up the TV remote for one more search through the channels, the live feed was on and he was just about to turn it off when something moved. A quick blurred image in the background. Tom froze, his finger on the off button. His eyes and ears straining for any sign. There! A very quiet sound, was that a voice? Turning the volume up Tom listened and heard it again. Desperate to see another sign of life Tom turned it up higher, eyes fixed on the screen. For minutes he waited and watched but nothing happened, then just as he was about to turn it off someone ran across the studio, a man in a suit, dishevelled and looking back in terror, footsteps loud as he charged past the desk. Tom knew him, one of the main news presenters, though he couldn’t recall his name. A second later a zombie appeared, blood dripping down its chin as it stopped behind the desk, looking around, watching and listening. Its empty grey eyes fixing on the camera for a second, causing Tom’s heart to race. Then a crashing sound came and the zombie turned in the direction the news reader had gone, tilting its head back, mouth open wide, it screamed. And it was a loud terrifying sound, Tom froze for a second as it crashed forward after the reporter.
“Oh Fuck!” He said, fumbling for the remote control and dropping it. He jumped forward, scrabbling behind the TV and pulling out its power lead. His breathing heavy as he waited and listened, the volume had been almost on full.
Moans in the distance. Tom moved to the window, risking a glance outside and saw zombies standing still, heads turning urgently left and right, seeking the source of the sound. Maybe he would be ok he thought, he was upstairs and they wouldn’t be able to tell where the sound came from. But just then one of the zombies stopped, head facing in the direction of his building and screamed. Tom’s blood turned to ice. The zombie sprinted in his direction, others screaming and joining it. From a distance more screams answered and Tom was close to panic. He watched from a small gap in the window’s blinds as more and more zombies raced his way. Crashing could be heard all around and Tom ran to another room, risking a look from that window. All around him zombies were trying to get into houses and doors to other apartments. They hammered with fists, clawed at doors and windows, sheer weight of numbers helping them smash their way in. There were a lot of zombies, probably hundreds but Tom had a small glimmer of hope when he realised they couldn’t pinpoint him. They were attacking homes at random, mostly coming out again empty handed but an occasional scream which could only be someone living sounded, though Tom couldn’t tell where or who they came from. The zombies started to slow again, spreading out as they found nothing and Tom began to relax a little. Then a crash! Sounded at his door.
