by Paul Wilcock
The pathetic whimpering sound I make as my unconscious body fights to scream wakes me from the nightmare and I sit up, banging my head against the roof of the car as I check my perimeter for danger, thankful that there is none. I put on the painful shoes and set off walking again, the air is bitterly cold today and a heavy mist hangs in the air, I layer the clothes I have in an attempt to keep warm but it's not completely successful and when I see a car that looks drivable, the first I've seen since I crashed the VW Camper van, I hobble over as fast as I can. There are three cars in total, it appears they were all involved in the same accident, the middle and back cars look totalled but the one at the front only has a crumpled back end, the rear wheels look like they can still turn freely though and even if it can't actually drive anywhere I'd be glad of the heater if the engine starts.
It takes a couple of minutes and some tweaking under the bonnet but eventually the engine turns over and I turn up the heat and move slowly forwards, metal scrapes as the cars separate and I think I lose the rear bumper as I pull away but I'm back on the road. I siphon the petrol from the other two cars using a length of hose taken from the engine of the middle car and pour it messily into the fuel tank of my new Citroen Xantia, 0 to 60 in 12.4 seconds.
Sarah
I'm 21, it's June 2000, Sarah is crying as we say goodbye, her mother is waiting by the Nissan Micra, 0 to 60 in 11.5 seconds, Disintegration by The Cure plays on the Micra’s radio. I'm rubbish at goodbyes, I don't really know what to say other than “goodbye”. We stand in the car park surrounded by suitcases, looking into each other’s eyes, hers streaming, mine full, close to bursting their banks, we hug, holding each other close, she moves her legs, small movements back and forth against my crotch, force of habit or one last treat before she goes, I find myself getting hard despite my sorrow and sigh into her hair, I just want to hold her so close that I absorb her; we kiss, on the lips, so warm and soft, we kiss again, it's a kiss goodbye, but we kiss again, each time the kiss ends the space between us widens until it really is time for her to leave and nothing will be the same now that she's gone and I don't think I could feel any more upset than I do right now and I vow to keep in touch and call her and send her letters and one day she'll come back to me and the brake lights of her mother’s Nissan Micra get lost amongst the other cars driven by other mothers and fathers taking their children away from their friends and lovers as the University term ends for summer.
I have one more year to go, Sarah is moving to a University in London, better opportunities her parents said to me through Sarah's mouth. They are probably right though, as I turn to go back into my flat and await my own father I see Emma's car drive past, I avoid eye contact and my tears start falling as I realise that I could actually feel more upset than I did a minute ago.
I'm 27, it's February 2007, I'm on the outskirts of London in a battered Citroen Xantia and drawing way more attention than I'd like to from the infected that litter the streets. I've never seen so many in one place, even the streets outside the hotel where Natalie died seem empty compared to this (I picture Natalie dying, screaming in pain, and hate that that's what I think of first now when I think of her). It quickly becomes clear that I'll need to abandon the car and make my way into the city centre on foot as the roads become completely blocked with vehicles that were trying to escape the city during the outbreak, millions must have become infected here. I feel sick as I think of a million infected all waiting to grab me, what the hell am I doing here? Could there be any survivors still here with so many infected around?
As the car rolls along the road at a steady 5mph I grab my bag, open the door and throw myself out, leaving the car to continue on down the road, hopefully attracting the nearby infected away from me. Unfortunately I find that jumping from a moving car is harder than it looks in the action movies and I land awkwardly scraping my knees and the door frame knocks into my shoulder spinning me around and onto my face, my hand is snatched away from being run over by the rear wheel just in time and I pull myself up and run a very painful run behind a low wall and plan my next move.
The London skyline looms on the horizon, close but still quite a trek on foot, a large plume of thick smoke rises above the tower blocks over to the east but to the west rain clouds gather and I see a rainbow arcing across the sky. I head east, towards the smoke, knowing that destruction usually means humans are nearby, looking at the skyline makes me realise how unlikely I am to find one woman in a city that contained thousands but I'm here now so I may as well take a look, besides I've only ever been to London once before and the tourist attractions should still be standing. I keep low and to the shadows where possible, the rain clouds catch up to me and it isn't long before I'm soaked and the rain stings my eyes and tastes metallic and leaves a dirty reddish brown residue on my skin that concerns me but there's nothing I can do about it so I try to think of something else.
I'm 20, it's March 2000, I'm in the back of a white Ford Fiesta, 0 to 60 in 9.3 seconds, Roxy Music plays on the stereo, the Flesh and Blood album, it's raining heavily, the drops driving into the roof of the car like they’re nails being hammered into wood and it threatens to drown out the music.
Sarah's in a house down the street buying drugs; Richard is driving, Richard is okay but I know that he fancies Sarah and I know that Sarah is overly flirty and will kiss, grope or fuck other people if she feels like it, I've accepted that she'll never fully be mine but I like being number 1 in her list of people to kiss, grope and fuck and I also get more than that; I get to be her best friend too. Plus she can't complain if I hook up with another girl which comes in handy occasionally. I try to control the jealousy, I know things happen but as long as I don't actually see it I can pretend it’s not real. Richard is real though and he'll still be around when we're high later in the nightclub and we're not friends, more like acquaintances so there's no moral code of not sleeping with your mate’s girl to stop him from trying it on with Sarah. In fact they were already together in the car when they picked me up earlier, it's entirely possible they've already been fucking behind my back, maybe even on the back seat where I'm sat now. I look around for evidence, not sure exactly what I'm hoping to find, a used condom or Sarah's underwear seems unlikely. I glance at the ceiling, can't see any scrape marks from Sarah's heels. Richard glances in the rear-view, catches me staring at his face trying to detect if he has a post coital glow, I look away quickly, hope he doesn't think I fancy him or something. Sarah's taking ages, how long does it take to buy drugs, is she browsing, trying out samples, I notice from the corner of my eye that Richard has finally stopped eyeing me suspiciously in the mirror. Down the street, running through the sheets of rain, Sarah, with a big grin on her face, returning to us, hopefully laden with pleasure inducing narcotics; leaping into the puddles, not caring that she's drenched, her white shirt see-through and clinging to her body, I waste precious seconds that should be spent drinking her in to look at Richard's face, written all over it is an obvious desperation to have her; they didn't fuck on the back seat earlier, I return my eyes to Sarah's breasts until she opens the door and throws herself into the passenger seat with a whoop “It's raining” she laughs, “let's go!” Richard starts the engine and sets off back to the University campus, I watch his eyes in the rear-view, see them keep darting sideways, checking out Sarah, he makes eye contact with me, probably sees my smirk and understands what it means, “I'm fucking her, you're not.”
Sarah reveals her haul to us, ecstasy and cocaine, the cocaine is for me, I've never done it before but had a craving to snort it from Sarah's breasts after watching Robocop a few nights ago.
Sarah's flat is decorated in an overly girly fashion, pink fluffy cushions pad out every surface, posters of horses, baby monkeys and wide eyed kittens line the walls and a full third of the bed is taken up by plush animals of various species. Sarah is in the shower, we're going out in two hours, Richard is watching TV, Baywatch is on, I'm toasting Pop Tarts, Frosted Cherry flavour, and making a stra
wberry milkshake. I leave the Pop Tarts in slightly too long and they are crispy and brown down one edge forcing me to leave a thin strip of uneaten pastry from each one. I sit on the sofa to watch Baywatch while I eat, on the opposite side to Richard, he doesn't look at me as I sit down, transfixed by the man having a diabetic seizure after being rescued from the ocean, from what I've seen so far this episode hasn't delivered on the promises made by the title sequence, the really hot blonde has barely been in it at all. Sarah emerges from the bathroom in her dressing gown, hair done up in a towel turban, she sits between me and Richard and reaches over for a swig of my milkshake, she takes a big mouthful and spits it in my face, not because she doesn't like it, just because she thinks it’s funny, Richard thinks it’s funny too; me not so much. She leans in and licks my face which quickly turns into a passionate kiss, Richard is probably checking out her ass while she's leaning over me but right now I don't care. We separate and she smiles at me, strokes my cheek, leans over towards Richard and pulls him in for a kiss, her hand still cupping my face, I'm not sure how to react to this so I just watch until she comes back towards me and kisses me again, I can see her placing Richard’s hands on her body while she kisses me and then encourages me to do the same, I seem to be getting involved in a threesome and it’s the worst kind of threesome but I don't want to leave because then that just leaves a very horny Sarah and Richard in a twosome and Sarah's hand is inside my trousers, mine are fighting over her breasts with Richard’s as her dressing gown hangs open. I ask her seven important questions with my eyes but her eyes just keep repeating that she wants a threesome on the sofa with Baywatch in the background; the sexy blonde one is back on the screen and catches my attention while I kiss Sarah again, when I look away from the TV I notice that Richard has somehow shed his clothes without me noticing and I panic as I realise there's a choice to be made and if I'm going to have a threesome with another man I want to make sure I get the best end but I'm not sure which that is and I'm still fully clothed and Richard will beat me to it if I don't take charge. I quickly tug my jeans down and unbutton my shirt as I pull Sarah against me and kiss her hard. Richard presses himself up against Sarah's back, sandwiching her between us, his hands are stroking her shoulders, down her arms and now they’re helping me remove my shirt and it's weird and I can take my own shirt off thanks. I decide that if I have sex with her that shows that I'm the important part of this threesome and turn her around, bending her over, knocking Richard off balance and onto the floor; Sarah is laughing at him as I push into her and start to fuck, Richard gets up and walks over to her, stops her laughing with his cock, this is definitely weird and I'm not particularly enjoying it because Richard keeps looking at me and he should be looking at her but it means that instead of looking at her like I want to be doing I have to keep looking at him to see if he's looking at me and it all results in lots of eye contact between us as we move in and out and we both lean over slightly and he misinterprets my body language and leans in close to kiss me and I realise what's about to happen just in time and pull back and punch him hard in the face but he somehow stays upright, maybe helped by the force of Sarah's sucking, but he throws a punch back at me until we end up brawling, still balls deep in Sarah until she realises that the scenario has changed and it's not about her anymore and she starts to try and rise but I see an opportunity and belt Sarah in the back of the head forcing her teeth down into Richard’s cock and he pulls backwards in pain and part of me wants to throw myself across the room at him and keep fighting but both of us being naked makes me hold back. Sarah starts screaming at him to leave and starts kicking him and I somehow escape all blame as Richard is backed towards the door. Before he realises it the door’s been opened and he's been pushed out into the corridor, naked and bleeding. Sarah slams the door and locks it and laughs and runs at me, jumping into my arms, knocking me over backwards, landing painfully on the arm of the sofa, she starts to grind against me and then we're fucking again and she's still laughing “I can't believe you went along with that for so long you loser!” She's taunting me, it's all a game to her, I'd heard her bragging about how many people she'd fucked before but figured it was exaggerated, now I'm thinking it's probably true, she really doesn't care as long as she enjoys herself but that's one of the things I love about her, I like her dangerous, unpredictable, spontaneous personality, it makes me dangerous, unpredictable and spontaneous just by being with her; I like who I am when I'm with her a lot more than who I am when I'm not. She sets up a line of coke across her breasts and hands me a rolled up twenty. Richard's banging on the door, he wants his clothes back; he doesn't get them.
I'm 27, it's February 2007, the roads are clearly a no-go so I scramble down an embankment and follow the nearby train tracks towards London, there's still a few infected wandering around out here but not enough to cause me any concern and I easily out pace them until they lose interest or get distracted by something else. A train looms in the distance, still on the tracks but stopped a long way from the station, as I get closer I can hear an unsettling low moan, louder than any sound I’ve previously heard the infected make and I worry that it’s a new breed of infected, a mutation, like when you play Resident Evil and the enemies start to get harder to kill and weirder and you wish that they'd just stuck with straight forward zombies, I hope that this isn’t something like that. I pass the first carriage crouched low, pop my head up next to the window, the sound is an amalgamation of moans emanating from hundreds of infected, crammed onto the rush hour train and trapped ever since, no space for them to separate, endlessly jostling the crowd around them causing each other to constantly turn one way then the other to investigate the sounds and movements all around them; idiots. My presence causes them to become more agitated and they surge and swell as I pass like a wave. I quicken my pace, worried that their increased efforts to escape might find a weakness in a door or window, neither of which are looking their best after months of neglect and the carriages creak and tilt with the movement of so many bodies inside them. Running now, the gravel along the tracks crunching noisily under foot, train disappearing behind me with relief, I can’t help looking back over my shoulder though, pleased to see the train still holds all of its passengers and I’m in the clear. My footsteps in the gravel muffle the sound of other footsteps running out from behind a pile of old tyres until it's too late and I'm tackled, landing painfully on the tracks. A punch across my face sends the world spinning and I cover my head, still unsure of what's happening, who hit me, where they came from. I buck and writhe under the body that pins me as more blows hammer against my arms, the occasional fist finding my head. A sharp, cold pain in my side causes me to lower my arms and my hands come up sticky with blood as I feel the slash torn in my side, my assailant uses the opening to punch me again in the face, under my eye, then wrenches my bag from my back and I hear the crunch of gravel receding as my attacker runs with my belongings leaving me face down on the ground, blood soaking the wooden sleepers beneath me. My hands check my waist and happily find that I still have my tool belt and hammers, as much good as they just did me. The loss of my bag means that yet again I find myself with no food or clothing but that’s a problem for later. I roll onto my back with some effort and look at my hands, coated with blood, agony courses through me as I try to lift my head enough to look at the wound, I can only stand to look for a second before my head drops back to the ground with a clunk, but it looks bad, if I don't get it dressed soon I'll most likely bleed to death. I pull myself up with a scream, stagger back towards the train, hands pressed tight against my wound, knowing there must be a first aid kit in one of the carriages; but the carriages are all full of infected. I make my way along the train, looking through the windows of each carriage as I pass, I find what I think must be the source of the outbreak on the train, the carriage only has a small number of infected, there are lots of corpses around though and the first aid kit lies open on the floor. The early cases, other passengers unaware what they were dealing with,
tried to help, dressed the wounds of the people attacked and bitten by the crazy man, most of them died, others got infected themselves and the infection spread outwards along the train in both directions like an explosion tearing through the travellers before anyone knew what was happening. This carriage would be the easiest to infiltrate but doesn't have what I need any more, tattered blood soaked bandages litter the floor or are wrapped uselessly around dead flesh. I decide on the end carriage, first class, most of the carriage is taken up by kitchen and luggage areas, I can’t get attacked from each side like the central carriages and I only spot around eight infected men in business suits, a couple of them might actually be dead as they aren't moving but I can't be totally sure. The door pulls open easier than expected, fetid warm air rushes out into my face filling my mouth and nose. I take a step back, suck in a deep breath to hold then a step up into the carriage to meet the first infected head on, my hand grips his throat and forces him backwards as I enter the carriage, using his body as a shield between me and the rest of them. I’m glad to find the situation looked a lot harder to handle from outside, the confined space for moving around works to my advantage and I easily dispatch all eight without any problems even with my wound; I feel like a trolley dolly making my way down the aisle selling drinks and snacks except I'm dishing out death as I pass each seat; would sir like a hammer to the head?
