by Luke Duffy
“Then what?” Tommy asked. “It’s not like they can get in, is it? We still have the tunnel, so we can just let them rot out there.”
“I’m not sure that’s even an option anymore.”
“Why not? It’s what we did for years before the tunnel was built.”
“It’s been a long time since this place was thrown together,” Greg pointed out. He was standing by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. “Just look around you. It’s falling to bits. For all we know a stiff breeze could knock down one of the T-wall sections. Or the hinges in the gates could fail.”
Tina nodded in agreement. Over the years, they had done everything that they could to maintain the base defences, but there was very little that they could do to combat the effects of time and corrosion. No one knew for sure how the foundations of the walls would hold up to the weight of thousands of bodies. The gates themselves were made from steel and iron, and they were not completely immune to deterioration.
“You need to think about the people in here, too,” Tina continued. “We’re short on a lot of things—ammunition, food, fresh water, medical supplies. We’re also short on morale and hope. There are a lot of people here that don’t have the strength of character that the likes of you have, Tommy. The dead battering away at the walls again could send some of them batshit crazy. Even worse, some may even end up doing something stupid. Remember Catherine and old George?”
Al looked up and shifted in his seat with a sudden influx of discomfort. The names had remained with him for years, particularly Catherine. Tina suddenly bringing them up again made him relive events from his past that he would rather forget.
Tommy frowned. It took him a moment to remember the incidents, but he soon grasped what Tina was getting at. Many years before, on different occasions that were separated by almost twelve months, the integrity of the base had very nearly been compromised by the actions of men and women who had been driven to the edge of insanity through the bleakness and desperation of the situation.
George had been the first one. He had lost his mind through the endless noise of the dead beating at the walls. He had been one of the guards, and during one particular evening his mental state had finally crumbled. Screaming like a demon, he had attempted to open one of the gates. No one ever knew what his intentions were once he managed to open the doors. Whether he was attempting his own suicide or trying to get everyone killed, it was hard to tell. Before he could complete his task, Harry had drawn his pistol and shot him through the head at point blank range.
Catherine and Al had once shared a short and passionate romance. It had been born from the hopelessness of the situation. Their relationship had been turbulent due to Catherine’s unstable behaviour and her tendency to lose her temper towards Al. To a degree he was actually turned on by her unpredictability and aggression. It was mostly just about the sex. Using one another as a release for the tension, and it was something that they could both cling to, and separate themselves from the harsh reality of their lives from time to time. It was a tempestuous relationship to say the least, and Al soon began to see that there was more going on other than the fact that she was quick tempered and fast tongued.
Catherine had attempted to carry out a similar action to George, but her intentions were always clear. She had already accused the survivors within the base of being responsible for the dead plague. She cursed them, and openly wished death upon everyone within the walls, including Al. She had threatened to let the dead in on a few occasions, but due to her being placed in solitary confinement and under twenty-four-hour supervision, she never gained access to the main entrances of the FOB. That was until she managed to convince everyone that her episode of madness was behind her, and that she was fit to join the community again. However, she never seemed to realise that she was being closely watched by Tina and the others.
It was Al who caught her sneaking through the shadows one night carrying a few pounds of explosives and a detonator. He followed her and watched her clumsy attempts at planting an explosive charge at the foot of one of the T-walls. Her efforts would never have led to the device detonating, as she clearly had no knowledge in what she was attempting to do. But her intentions were clear, and it was decided there and then that the base would never be safe with her inside. Al shot her on the spot.
“Yeah, fair one. I never thought of that,” Tommy replied. Even from within the complex, they could hear the dead. It made even him uncomfortable, so he could only guess at how the members of the group who did not have his resolve would be feeling.
“We couldn’t get to the bus depot, Tina,” Al confessed. “We were trapped on the roof of the car-park, and there were just too many of those things on the streets. We would never have made it.”
Tina nodded. She doubted that any of the vehicles would have been serviceable anyway after all these years. She drummed her fingers against the table, wondering what their next move should be. While the infected remained surrounding the base, their only way out was through the tunnel. That would then leave them in the centre of the city. She could not imagine many of them making it if they decided to try walking out in a long line. There were families with young children. There were sick and old people amongst the survivors, and there were also individuals whose nerves would not stand up to such a daring action. Someone would break, and that would be a death sentence for all of them while they were still in the urban area and surrounded by the infected.
“Tell her about the sewers,” Tommy suggested, looking across at Al.
Tina looked up. Years before, they had conducted a few reconnaissance patrols of the sewage systems, but each time they had come up against either too many collapsed sections as a result of the bombing that had been carried out at the start of the outbreak, or too many of the dead wandering through the maze of tunnels. After losing a number of people down there they had decided to block off the entrance into the sewers and use the tunnel as their primary means of travelling in and out of the base.
“What about the sewers?” she asked.
“We met a bloke named Frank,” Al began. “He’s been living out there the whole time. He saved our necks, to be honest.”
“Yeah, and he knows the sewers like the back of his hand,” Tommy said enthusiastically. “They’re pretty empty now, too. Nothing like they used to be. Maybe we could use them to get us away from the city. Beats exposing ourselves on the surface.”
“It’s an option,” Al shrugged, turning to Tina and giving her a nod that stated his agreement with Tommy. “We’re short of them at the moment.”
“We could wait till winter hits. If it gets cold enough, we may be able to get out of the city without any real drama. Those things were frozen solid a few years back. We had an easy time of it. Remember?” Tommy added, as he relived the memories of him and Al being able to move about with relative freedom during that particularly harsh winter.
“Yeah, I remember,” Tina replied. She raised her hands slightly, the palms facing upwards. “But that hasn’t happened for a few years now. The winters have been rough, but the cold snaps never seem to last very long. Last year the thermometer barely reached two degrees above freezing. We can’t put all our hopes on the weather. This is the UK, after all.”
“Yeah, true. We could end up in a fucking heatwave knowing our luck. I still say that the sewers are our best hope of getting out of here, though.”
“We can’t stay here, Tina,” Greg said, having been listening but keeping his thoughts to himself for the moment. “We’ve pretty much exhausted the lifespan of this place and our supplies with it. The longer we wait, the more desperate the situation will become.”
“I agree,” Al concurred. “Whether we like it or not, we need to make a move soon. Those fuckers out there are already growing their balls back. How long will it be before they all decide to have a pop at us?”
“Do you know the way through the sewers?”
“No, but we could…”
A series of ear-splitting cracks close enough to make them duck into their seats cut Tommy off in mid-sentence. Everyone turned to look at the door. The gunfire had come from somewhere close within the inner complex, and not from the perimeter walls. Horrified screams now began to fill the corridors outside, accompanied by the sounds of running feet. Grabbing their weapons, Tina and her troops raced out from the conference room.
A number of people were fleeing towards them, crying for help as they nervously glanced back over their shoulders while continuing to charge along the hallways. Tina attempted to stop one of them, a young woman who she recognised as being one of the care assistants in the medical centre. Tina’s hand was violently slapped away as the woman continued in her flight towards the opposite end of the complex.
“The clinic,” Greg cried.
He took off along the walkway, barging his way through the panic stricken people who were running in the opposite direction. Tina and the others followed, pulling back on the cocking levers of their weapons and making themselves ready to confront whatever was happening.
9
Greg reached the junction in the corridor and stopped. To the right was the medical centre. By now, there were no more people fleeing from the area, but their screams could still be heard throughout the complex behind them as they tore through the halls in terror. Another volley of bullets snapped loudly through the corridor as Greg was about to turn the corner. A smoking hole appeared in the wall beside him, spraying him with fragments of plaster and wood. He leapt back, turning his head as the slivers of wall sprayed into his face. He stopped and turned, holding out his hand to warn the others not to come any closer to the junction.
There was a scream from around the corner. It was the voice of a man in excruciating pain as he howled long and hard. Another shot rang out, and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor quickly followed.
Greg crouched low and carefully peered around the junction. He could see a man lying face down in the centre of the corridor, a pool of blood growing larger by the second beneath him. The medical centre was just a little further along and on the left-hand side. There was more blood smeared over the doorframe and the surrounding walls, along with a number of gaping holes from bullets that had missed their targets. Greg stepped out, his pistol raised in front of him, and his body pushed up close to the wall on the left. Tina followed, hugging the right of the hallway while Tommy and Al supported them from the rear.
They could hear groans and the sound of scraping feet coming from within the clinic. There was a clatter as a table or chair was turned over, followed by a yelp. Greg and Tina increased their pace. The cry had not been the sound of the infected, but a living man. They passed by the sprawled body in the centre of the corridor, fleetingly glancing down at the massive trauma that had been inflicted upon his head from a bullet that had ripped open his skull. The body, dressed in a hospital gown that was hanging open and exposing the man’s naked back and buttocks, was unrecognisable to any of them, but they knew full well that he was one of their own.
Greg stopped at the door, and the others fell into line behind him, ready to support him or pull him back to safety. He kept the barrel of his pistol pointed towards the entrance to the clinic, his finger resting against the trigger guard. He could feel his heart beating heavily within his chest, and a cold sweat began to trickle down along his spine.
“It’s Greg,” he called into the room, his voice shaking and filled with anxiety. “Who’s in there? Are you hurt?”
“Shit, Greg,” a frightened and pain-filled voice called back. “He got me. The bastard took a bite out of me.”
Greg recognised the voice. They all did. It was Mason, their most qualified and skilled doctor on the base. His words hit them like a freezing cold gust of wind. They all knew him well, and he was well liked and respected amongst the survivors. Furthermore, losing Mason would leave them short of any real medical expertise. There was another who had been studying to become a doctor before the outbreak, and a few trained nurses, but none of them had Mason’s knowledge or experience.
Greg rushed into the room and saw his friend lying on the floor, his back resting against an upturned gurney as he desperately tried to apply a tourniquet around his upper right arm. He was shaking uncontrollably as he struggled to stem the bleeding. His skin was pale and waxy, and his eyes were already appearing to sink deep into his skull. There was a lot of blood covering the floor around him, and there was more still oozing from the massive tear in his lower arm.
“It’s the artery,” Mason said weakly through gritted teeth. “I can’t stop the bleeding. I can’t stop it.”
Greg dropped down beside him. He reached across and clamped his hands tightly around Mason’s upper arm, attempting to stop the blood flow through the brachial artery. By now the doctor had lost too much of his strength to continue trying to manipulate the tourniquet, and he was fading fast.
“Someone fucking help me,” Greg snarled back at the others.
Tommy rushed across to him while Tina and Al remained at the door with their pistols still raised as they scanned the room. In the far corner, another body lay in a huge pool of bright red blood. It was a child, his throat having been torn out, exposing the bones of his vertebrate, and the tangle of torn veins in his neck. Tina moved closer, lowering her pistol so that it remained pointed at the small form. His eyes were open, wide and lifeless and still filled with the shocked horror of his final moments as they remained staring up at the ceiling.
She looked back at Al. He was moving towards the other end of the clinic, checking that the area was clear. It was never easy for any of them to deal with the bodies of children. Even after all these years their humanity spoke to them from deep within their souls. Dispatching the corpses of adults had become second nature, but the appearance of freshly dead or recently reanimated children always tugged at their heart-strings. However, there was never any hesitation. As ghastly as the task may be their survival instincts always overruled any remaining notions of morality.
She pulled her knife from the pouch on her belt. Everyone carried a stabbing weapon of some sort. Some liked the larger blades such as machetes or even swords. Tina preferred a more precise weapon—a dull, black survival knife that had a blade of only fifteen centimetres. It was easier to wield and less clumsy. The way that she considered it was that if they needed to use such weapons, then they were in a close quarter fight requiring accuracy, and not hacking their way through like a Viking berserker.
She placed her fingers over the boy’s eyes. His body was already growing cold, and the blood surrounding his corpse was becoming sticky. There was once a time when the freshly dead would be placed in a secure room, restrained and monitored to see how long it takes for them to revive. But those days were long gone. No one cared anymore about studying the cause and effects of the virus.
Leaning in close to his body, Tina thrust the knife deep into his ear canal. She quickly pulled it free, refusing to look at the blade as she wiped it against the back of her trousers and removed her hand from over his eyes. The boy was unknown to her. Even though there was a large amount of damage to his throat, the face was untouched. He could not have been much older than eleven years old, but in death, it was always hard to be sure.
“Who was he? Does anyone recognise him?”
Tommy glanced across and shook his head. By now Al had completed his sweep and now stood looking down over Tina’s shoulder. His expression showed no sign of recognition for the child. He turned and walked into the hallway to check on the other corpse.
“That’s his dad out there. They were both brought in with the flu two days ago,” a woman’s voice continued from the doorway. It was one of the nurses.
Tina turned and saw that it was the woman who had slapped her hand away as she fled with the others through the corridors.
Mason groaned as Tommy and Greg continued in their attempts to stop the bleeding. He was mumbling something, but his words cam
e in slurs and his head was rolling as though becoming loose from his spine. Tommy looked to Tina and shook his head. She understood what his eyes were saying. There was nothing they could do to save him. Even if they stopped the bleeding and stabilised the doctor, he had been bitten, and would undoubtedly die and reanimate as one of the infected.
“We need to check on all the others,” Al’s voice called from the corridor. He reappeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking out the light from outside. “Some of them might have been bitten, too. We need to round them up and put this place on lockdown until we’re sure that there’s no one infected running around inside the base.”
Tina nodded as she climbed back to her feet. She grabbed a blanket from a nearby bed and placed it over the boy’s body. She made her way across to Al and stopped, turning to Tommy, Greg, and the nurse as they continued to work on the doctor.
“Greg?” she asked.
He turned and looked back at her. His eyes showed the sadness that he felt, but his features remained solid, as always. Neither of them needed to say the words. They had been through the same events a hundred times before, and he knew what needed to be done. He nodded back to her.
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” he grunted.
By now Mason was unresponsive. His skin was cold and ashen, and his eyes were rolled into the back of his head. It would have been a waste of their dwindling medical supplies to make any attempt at getting a line and fluids into him. His loss of blood was so extreme that he would die from shock very soon regardless of what they did to try and save him. The only relief for them was that the virus would be robbed of its chance to consume the man, wracking him with excruciating pain and boiling him from inside with fever. Greg would be the one to ensure that the doctor never faced the indignity of returning as one of the walking dead.
