Fear of the Dead (Novella): Contagion

by Woods, Mark

  ‘Stay away and stand clear of anyone who has been bit,’ I remembered the radio announcer saying. ‘And if anybody you know is wounded, or has recently been tested positive for H1N1-Z, isolate them immediately and keep them firmly secured in a room away from you if at all possible. On no account let them come into close contact with you, and please observe strict quarantine procedures as laid down by the government and the Prime Minister in his recent address.

  ‘These people are infected, and extremely contagious, and should be kept well away from any healthy persons or people not already contaminated with the H1N1-Z virus.’

  I remember screaming at Sophie to run, throwing her my bag as I moved in to attack once more...then nothing.

  I guess one of them must have killed me.

  But I remember nothing.

  Je ne pas regrette rien.

  I regret nothing.

  Except, maybe, that if that was Sophie I saw the other day, then obviously I didn’t do enough to keep her safe.

  ***

  No one knows what brought us back.

  I don’t remember much of my former life before that final day, the day I ‘died’ – everything’s all a bit blurry and like I said before, my memories now contain more blanks than actual memories themselves - but I do remember one thing.

  No one knew how the Dead were able to come back.

  Oh, there were theories – like it was a side-effect of the H1N1-Z virus. The infection’s way of using our host bodies to spread, even after physical death had occurred, but in the end, no-one really knew for sure, it was all just stuff and bluster.

  The truth was no-one really knew anything and by then, it wasn’t even as if there were many people left capable of trying to find out.

  All scientists seemed to know for certain was that they just couldn’t stop it.

  There was no cure.

  Anyone who died, came back to life.

  End of.

  The only exception was those who had suffered acute damage to the brain.

  They didn’t come back.

  So, in the end, governments all across the world just gave up trying to find any kind of cure and instead, they just concentrated on surviving.

  Some of those supposed to be in charge went to ground, in underground bunkers and such like, hoping to return once the coast was clear - but the last I heard, the virus followed them down there into the dark as well, and those havens that were supposed to be their safety instead became their tombs.

  Others tried retreating to far off, remote corners of the Earth.

  No human contact, they figured, meant smaller chances of infection.

  Unfortunately, in many cases, they took livestock and cattle with them and from what I understand, those very same cattle ended up becoming infected as well when the virus started mutating.

  Forget the meek inheriting the Earth.

  In the end, it was the vegetarians who ended up having the last laugh.

  Whoever saw that coming?

  The very hungry and the desperate took to eating each other to survive, and so the virus was passed amongst them in that way.

  Those who took to the hills, or away to far off, remote places in a futile attempt to isolate themselves, still died.

  Just like everybody else.

  They just died slower, and alone - devoid of any kind of last comfort or solace in their final hours.

  It was all alright though.

  They didn’t stay dead for long.

  ***

  There can’t be many more living left by this stage.

  I know, personally, I have not fed in more days and weeks than I can possibly remember.

  I can’t even recall the last time I saw a survivor, or anyone still living for that matter.

  Maybe they’re all just hiding, biding their time, waiting for the last of us to rot before they come back out of their hiding places to reclaim this world back from us again.

  But if that is what they’re waiting for, they’ll have a long wait.

  We must outnumber them now by something like approximately ten million to one.

  Give or take.

  And we’re not going away anywhere any time soon.

  ***

  ‘What’s it like being dead?’

  Remember I asked that question right back there at the beginning?

  It’s uncomfortable, that’s what it is.

  Imagine being able to feel maggots moving and crawling around constantly underneath your skin.

  Imagine never being able to blink, of having your eyes dry out, and having flies constantly landing on them and trying to feast on them.

  Imagine rats constantly biting at your toes whenever you stop moving forwards, ever forwards.

  If you ever stop long enough for them to bite you that is.

  It doesn’t happen often nowadays, but sometimes I come to, only to find myself standing amongst a whole horde of us, all stopped and just staring up at the sky (and what the fuck is that all about) – whilst rats run off with snatched, stolen parts of your rotting flesh.

  I might not be able to respond, but I can still feel pain.

  I feel every bite.

  Every larvae crawling around inside me.

  Every wound that is inflicted on me.

  The only time I ever feel any kind of release, any type of peace, is during those rare, few moments when I get to feed and like I say, those moments are few and far between of late.

  What is it like when you get to feed?

  Imagine, if you will, biting into a haunch of beautifully cooked, perfectly rare beef.

  The hot juices and the blood running down your chin, mixing with the saliva you can’t stop yourself from producing through sheer, unmitigated hunger.

  Your stomach aches and rumbles in anticipation, not caring what it is you feed it – only that you feed.

  And soon.

  And then you swallow – and the sensation of the food going down is like nectar from the gods.

  It is the like the best feeling in the world; the most euphoric drug explosion in your mind that you have ever experienced.

  For a few brief moments, you get to see colours again – everything looks brighter, fresher, more alive...

  And then it’s gone.

  It’s all gone.

  Everything returns back to the dull, grey boring state of existence again that you have grown used to and as you look down, you realise, with a sudden shock that what you’ve been biting into, devouring, feasting upon, isn’t in fact a haunch of beef but someone’s arm.

  Or their leg.

  And the worst part of it all is you no longer care.

  What once would have disgusted you, made you sick, turned your stomach, now just feels normal.

  Like I say, those moments when I get to feed happen rarely for me now.

  I wonder, some days if I shall ever experience them again.

  Those feelings of completeness, those rare few moments of bliss – the real reason why we feed.

  That is why we continue to feast on the flesh of the living...not because we are hungry, but for those brief, few stolen moments when we get to experience some semblance of our former lives, before everything all goes back to normal again.

  Or what passes for normal nowadays now that the status quo between the living and the Dead has irrevocably been reversed.

  ***

  ‘What is it like to be dead?’

  I ask that question once again.

  Let me tell you what it’s like.

  It’s lonely.

  It’s depressing.

  It’s bleak.

  But hopefully, not for much longer, right?

  I mean...how much longer exactly can all of this go on for?

  Every day, I live in hope that today will be the day.

  Today will be the day that we stumble on some survivors and one of them manages to get a lucky headshot.

  The problem is, like I’ve said before, there are very few living people left. />
  As I walk, I try to work out in my head what the chances are, the odds of probability that today will be the day we finally find some more survivors.

  I was never very good at maths, at least I don’t think I was, but it’s a way to pass the time in these all too brief moments of clarity and reasoning.

  Sometimes I find myself wondering what death will be like.

  Real death, I mean, not this misrepresentation of what death is supposed to be.

  Will it be just like someone turning off the lights, or will any of us ever actually get to find ourselves standing outside the Pearly Gates, trying to atone for our sins under the stern gaze of St. Peter.

  I cannot answer that question.

  Like I said to you before, I don’t have any answers.

  All I know for certain is that death is no longer the end.

  It is merely the beginning.

  Dead is the new alive…

  THE END?

  Authors note

  Stuck on the roof was only the second story I ever wrote as an adult and as I have mentioned before, in my previous collection of Zombie fiction – Fear of the Dead – was the first zombie story I ever wrote.

  Catt Dahman, a very good horror writer in her own right, had encouraged me to write something and that story was the first thing I came up with.

  It was also my first ever published short story in an anthology, long since out of print, that was called The Tall Book of Zombie shorts.

  It’s always been a favourite of mine, and was very well received at the time, but I always knew that if I ever wanted to use it again, first I would need to update and revise it. The rest of the stories included within are all original, and published here for the very first time.

  During the Spring of 2020, the world faced one of its biggest health crises in modern history – the outbreak of a virus known as COVID-19. Much of the world was put into ‘Lockdown’, and a global pandemic was announced.

  This wasn’t fiction, this was real.

  It was the sort of thing most of us had only ever read about in books, or seen in movies before, and the death toll from the virus was immense.

  At the time of my writing this now, in May 2020, it is still going on.

  It is without doubt the scariest thing I have ever experienced in my whole life…and it is still going on.

  When I decided now was the time to write and release a follow-up to my book, Fear of the Dead, I decided to incorporate certain current events into my work.

  Some people may call this opportunistic, some might think it is in bad taste, but the one thing I have always wanted to include in my writing is a sense of realism.

  What we are going through right now IS real.

  It is not fictional, it really IS happening.

  This book is my way of venting some of my fear.

  Of excising some of the uncertainty I feel right now of what may happen in the coming days, and weeks, and months.

  Do I think the Dead are going to come back to life?

  No.

  But that doesn’t mean these aren’t scary times.

  I hope you have enjoyed reading this book, and I hope you have enjoyed – if that is the right word – some of the stories herein.

  If you have, please leave me a review – on Goodreads, on Amazon, or even on Facebook.

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  In the meantime, if you are reading this at the time of my writing this, please keep yourself safe.

  Please listen to the government and keep yourself safe.

  And hopefully I’ll see you on the other side.

  Sparkymarky, May 14th 2020.

  About the author

  Mark Woods is the Head Chef of a small community pub in Beeston, Norfolk, a U.K horror writer, and a former Editor with J. Ellington Ashton Press who is responsible for the novels, Time of Tides; Fear of the Dark; Arachnattack; Killer Cruise; Fear of the Dead; and The Golem. He was also one of six authors who contributed towards the creation of the vampire novel, Feral Hearts for J.E.A.

  He lives in Norfolk, England, where much of his work is set.

  Also available from Black Hart Press

  Fear of the Dead

  The Z-pocalypse starts here…and the end of days is finally upon us.

  UK horror author, Mark Woods, here presents four tales of the Zombie apocalypse.

  In ‘Santa Clauz is coming to town’, a man with a phobia of all things Christmas finds himself fighting off a horde of department store Father Christmas’s when a zombie outbreak occurs.

  In ‘Solitary Confinement’, a young woman does her best to protect her son, deep in the heart of Thetford Forest.

  ‘Dairy of the Dead’ tells the story of what happens when animals start to become infected on a remote dairy farm.

  And in ‘They came with the cold’, three friends, out on a fishing trip, decide to head further North, hoping the cold will prevent the zombies from following, only to find themselves trapped with nowhere to go.

  What people are saying about Fear of the Dead:

  “Whilst you would think there wasn’t room for yet another zombie story, Woods inserts just enough – normally via a certain dark humour – to make you carry on reading. All in all, an enjoyable zombie romp.” Book reviewer, Steph Ellis.

  Fear of the Dark by Mark Woods

  Sometimes it’s not the dark you should be afraid of…it’s what’s hiding in it.

  Whilst helping an old man sort through all the junk up in his attic, a young boy discovers a photo of his elderly neighbour taken many years before. Sitting him down, the old man starts to tell him the tale of the night the photo was taken – a night, one Halloween, when he and five of his friends all sat down to tell each other scary stories…with terrifying and tragic results.

  Time of Tides by Mark Woods

  What if Global warning wasn’t just down to climate change?

  What if it was down to something else?

  As the worst storm of all-time hits the entire globe, one family flees to the Norfolk Broads in order to escape, only to quickly discover that nowhere is truly safe. Now featuring two extra bonus short stories, Night Swimming and The Last Staff Party.

  Black Hart After Dark presents Secrets in Satin: Three’s Company by Naomi Matthews

  Stephanie is feeling sexually frustrated and more than a little bit neglected when her husband announces he is going away on business for their anniversary.

  Left to her own devices and convinced her husband is having an affair, Stephanie decides to have a little extra-marital fun all of her own and arranges to meet up with a mysterious stranger for a dirty weekend away.

  But not long after arriving at the hotel, things take a sudden and unexpected turn when she soon finds herself caught in the middle of a very naughty threesome.

  Three's Company is the first in a brand new series of erotic shorts by up and coming erotica author, Naomi Matthews.

  And Coming soon from Black Hart Press:

  The Golem by Mark Woods.

  Everyone thinks they know the story of the Golem – the ancient Jewish legend about a creature fashioned from clay and brought to life - but as one man is about to discover, the story people think they know is only just the tip of the iceberg.

  Arachnattack by Mark Woods

  What is The Project?

  They called it The Summer of Spiders, and though there were those in later years who would go on to question just how much of what was actually reported, for those who lived through it that summer was one that no-one would ever forget...

  In the small, sleepy Norfolk market town of Dyreham, something evil has been unleashed. When a crazed scientist unwittingly allows his army of genetically modified False Widow spiders to escape, it isn't long before the whole town quickly comes under attack.

  Meanwhile, as a local reporter begins an investigation into the scientific research institute known as Greenacres, he soon discovers the spiders are just one small part of a much bigger consp
iracy...

  Killer Cruise by Mark Woods

  Long before Arachnattack, there was the very first Project.

  1942, the Second World War.

  Behind enemy lines, Lance-Corporal Wilfred Bromley encounters an elite Nazi division that call themselves The War-Wolves and discovers the existence of Hitler’s sinister secret project to create a preternatural army.

  Many years later, long after the war, Wilfred is upon the cruise ship, The Bellastaria, when he soon finds himself once again fighting off both Vampyre and Werewolves when the ship he is on comes under attack. Fleeing to safety, and rescued by another passing ship, Wilfred is shocked to discover the project he long thought was dead is still very much up and running, and that the creation of The War-Wolves was just the very beginning…