by Paul Wilcock
When I head back inside the night is nearly over, most people have already left, I can see Sarah at the bar now, getting one last drink,
I ask her “Are we leaving yet?”
She says “Yeah, in a minute,” starts to walk back over to her friends “wait here, I just want to say goodbye to my friends.”
When she gets there I can see that the guy from the railings has joined them and I spend the next ten minutes stood by the bar on my own watching Sarah flirting and laughing with him. When she’s eventually ready to leave I try to gauge from their goodbye whether anything did actually happen between them; a hug, a kiss on the lips and a lingering look that passes an unspoken message between them, yeah she fucked him, shit.
The taxi ride home is quiet, Sarah sits with me on the back seat, my arm around her, her head resting on my shoulder, holding hands; I watch the streets roll by outside, painfully aware that it’s the last time I’ll do this until I return in Autumn, the last time I’ll ever do this with Sarah.
Back at her flat we head straight up to the bedroom, Sarah leading me tiredly by the hand, she seems sad, I hope it’s because she feels bad about how she treats me. We cuddle up together in the single bed, a forced intimacy, Sarah just wants to sleep but I still feel angry and want answers.
“Did you really have to…”
But she cuts me off “Don’t spoil our last night together.”
She makes no attempt to move, doesn’t even open her eyes.
“You kind of already have for me.” I counter, she opens her eyes now.
“Don’t be a hypocrite, you were fucking me behind Emma’s back for months.” She has a point and I don’t have a response to that “Thought so,” she says and closes her eyes again, says one last thing “We’re finished anyway.”
She falls asleep not long after, I notice a change in her breathing and watch her for a while, her words repeating over and over in my head “We’re finished anyway.”
Even though it’s not the best night I’ve ever had it still seems to be passing by way too fast and in a way I’m glad I can’t sleep.
I’m 27, it’s February 2007, I close my eyes for a few seconds, just breathe in and out, in and out, in; and out. Push the bad memories away, I think I can safely tick the “Not a dick” box for Sarah even if I don’t find her, I hadn’t realised until now just how pathetic I was with her. I pocket the photos and look around the caravan some more, find nothing else but dried blood, broken crockery and strips of blood soaked clothing.
Stepping out of the caravan into the fading sunlight, I see a figure, shuffling its way across the park, silhouetted against an orangey-red sky, I shield my eyes with a hand to try and see more clearly but the features are still hidden, the way it walks suggests infected though and my hand pulls the hammer from my belt in a smooth, reflexive movement. I close the distance between us in four strides and his features startle me for a second, I haven’t seen any infected that look like this, he actually looks like a movie zombie, I’d been avoiding the Z word up until now when talking about the infected, nobody was calling them zombies, they just looked like really ill people, some ended up more gruesome than others but nobody was coming back from the dead, once you died you died, even if you were killed by the infected you didn’t come back as one of them, if you were attacked and lived long enough for the infection to take hold it could appear that you’d died and then turned but in reality the infection had prevented death, the one in front of me now looked like a walking corpse; I cave his skull in anyway and that’s when I realise that only his head looks like a corpse, the rest of him seems normal, by infected standards anyway, it takes a few minutes for the pieces to slot in to place and I realise he was one of the extras for the zombie movie Sarah was starring in. I could see the school across the road where David told me everyone had holed up so I head over there and find that it’s still being defended, tall railings and gates keep the perimeter free from infected, the doors are well barricaded, as are the windows. I wonder if this will be the same as the other camps I’ve come across on my journey though; well-defended from the outside but taken apart from the inside, how many times had I seen that now?
As I study the gates, looking for a way to either open, scale or destroy them, the door to the school opens and two men walk out holding spears, or more accurately, mops with screwdrivers taped to the end, the men look like they are in their early twenties, still well groomed and clean looking, aspiring actors from Sarah’s film shoot no doubt. They eye me warily as they approach.
“What do you want?”
I focus on the one that spoke, his eyes keep flicking to my hair, yes it’s a wig you dick, “Hey, I’m looking for someone, can I come in? I’m not infected or anything.”
They keep their distance from the gate, the one that spoke first whispers across to the other and they both look at my wig.
“What’s under there?”
“What? Me! I’m under here! Come on guys let me in, I just killed a fecthead out on the field over there and there’s likely to be more around.”
More whispering between them then the other one shouts “Take it off!”
“What difference does it make what my real hair is like, this wig’s cool, you guys old enough to know who Don Johnson is? Miami Vice? It’s a killer look!”
“Take it off!” More insistent now, spears lowered and pointed towards me, I doubt that they could stick me with them but I get the message and reach up slowly lifting the wig, trying not to uncover too much of my shocking pink hair for fear of it being spotted by any wandering mob hit men. The actors panic, hold their spears in what they obviously think is a more threatening manner, their voices higher and faster now “We don’t like Pinks around here, who are you hunting? None of our residents have visited Tussauds, you’ve got the wrong place, fuck off!”
I pull the wig back down, make sure everything’s tucked under and that there’s no pink peeking out before answering them “Listen, I’m not hunting, I’m on the run from Tussauds but I’m a marked target, that’s why I’m wearing the wig. I’m not hunting, I’m looking for Sarah Harrison, David Towers said she’s here?”
“You spoke with David? Where is he? He went missing months ago, we thought he was dead.” His eyes are still suspicious but the spear is lowered slightly.
“He was at Tussauds, a prisoner there, that’s why I went there, that’s how I ended up a Pink.”
The blonde one cuts me off “Did you rescue him? Where is he?” he demands.
“I couldn’t get him out but I gave him a weapon, hopefully he’s made it out and is on his way back here.” I wasn’t convinced David would have made it out of the building, the room maybe but not the building.
The brunette speaks now “You still can’t come in, you’re still a Pink and we still don’t trust you, you could have taken David to Tussauds for all we know.”
That did make sense, I hadn’t considered that, he isn’t as stupid as I expected for an actor, he’s still talking “Besides Sarah isn’t here anymore so you’re wasting your time, she didn’t stick around for long.”
I interrupt “How do I know you’re telling the truth, if you think I want to take Sarah to Tussauds you’d tell me she wasn’t in there even if she was.”
He smiles at me “That’s true, but you’re just going to have to take my word for it, when we all ran in here, when the zombies turned out to be real zombies and everything went crazy, we had all the big shots from Hollywood in here with us, the Producer, the Make-up and Special FX guy, they were big players, put in a call for a chopper to rescue them as soon as possible, it wasn’t as quick as they wanted but after a few days a chopper did turn up with room for six people at a push. The Producer’s PA thought she was definitely going with them, she’d been acting like royalty around us, bragging about getting out, you should have seen her face when she got left behind, stupid bitch. Sarah knew what she was doing though, made sure she fucked her way onto that chopper as soon as she heard about it, my
understanding is they were leaving England, heading back to Hollywood or whatever.”
It sounded like Sarah, the Sarah I knew would have fucked someone for a ride in a helicopter even if she wasn’t escaping a country overrun with zombies “Okay, I might believe you, but you’d better not be lying to me, I’ve come too far and been through way too much to get here and ask Sarah…” I trail off, realising how stupid this would sound out loud, being bored and lonely doesn’t even sound like a good reason at this point.
“Ask her what?” The blonde one is curious.
“If…..I’m….a dick” Yeah it definitely sounds stupid, it seemed like a journey worth making a few months ago though.
“Holy shit!” the brunette one says, shocked, it’s not the reaction I was expecting, a bit over the top, but then I notice that he’s looking past me, over my shoulder, and then the blonde one shouts “David!” and I turn around and see a naked David running out of the park and across the street and there’s a herd of infected trailing after him, still a way off and moving slow, but they’re coming none the less.
“You made it!” I don’t mean to sound as surprised as I do but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah,” he’s out of breath “thanks for the axe.” He throws his arms around me, my mind is overwhelmed with the knowledge that he’s naked as he’s hugging me.
The brunette speaks from behind the gate “You were telling the truth? Tony, unlock the gate, let them in before the zombies get here!”
The blonde one, Tony, fumbles with some keys for way too long as the infected get closer and closer, eventually he unlocks the gate, David runs through, I start to follow but flinch backward and fall to the street as my face is unexpectedly sprayed with blood from the back of David’s head as a bullet rips through it killing him instantly. His body collapses and slides forward across the path, still carried by the momentum of his running and the impact of the bullet, the two guards don’t know what’s going on and stand there looking dumb as more bullets rain down, I see Tony go down but then I’m distracted by the infected falling on top of me so I don’t see if the brunette survives. I fight as best I can from my back but there’s no room to swing and my blows aren’t doing enough damage, I try to protect myself from the majority of them using the one directly on top of me as a shield as I scramble backwards towards the gate but I feel them grabbing my legs and as much as I kick I can’t get them off. The head above me explodes as a bullet slams through it and into the pavement above my head. Shit! Was that saving me or trying to kill me? I throw the body to the side and swing my hammer at the head biting into my leg. Shit! Shit! It’s broken the skin! I’ve been bit! Does that mean I’m infected now? Shit! Shit! Shit! Another bullet hits another infected in front of me but it still seems way too close to me to think I’m being helped, I get a second to find my feet though and although I give a little hobble at first I manage to ignore the pain and now I’m running and getting out of sight, I don’t look back but can hear the brunette guard screaming, the rest of the infected have reached the school, the door was unlocked, the gate was open, the people inside won’t know what’s coming, what can I do though? I could maybe take on the infected but not while someone’s taking pot shots at my head, if Sarah was in there, then maybe, but she’s gone and so am I, maybe for good, I can’t believe I got bit! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
Michelle
I’m running through the streets blindly, it doesn’t matter where I’m going I just need to get away from the infected and the hitman and the death and the memories I should have left alone and the fucking infection which is being pumped through my veins faster with every pounding heartbeat as I run from the inescapable, the inevitable, should I chop off my leg? No I’ve seen that tried before and it didn’t stop the infection so should I just kill myself? I wish I still had that gun, I can’t exactly beat myself to death with a hammer; can I? So should I stop running and let death catch me? Either by bullet to the head, fast and most likely painless, or by infected, slow and most likely very painful, no, fuck that, I’m hungry, I need to get help, a doctor or something, at least some advice, I don’t even know for sure if being bitten does turn you into one of them, I’m blocking out the rooms full of corpses, camps destroyed from the inside, Emma’s diary detailing being bitten, entries ending the morning after, no I’m definitely going to turn, I can’t tell if my vision’s changed, I think everything looks more grey but it’s hard to tell because the world has been very grey for a very long time, it does seem more monochrome now though, and I’m very hungry and what is that smell? It’s intoxicating, leading me into the crowds as I reach central London and the shanty towns and people and it’s the people that smell sweet to me now when before they were rank and sweaty and unwashed, I need to fight this, control myself, I’m so hungry though, I’m stronger than this, I’ll be the exception, maybe I’m immune, I know that I’m hungry, I stagger away from the crowded streets, down an alley, but there are still people around and I need to get away from them before they notice that I’m infected, if I am, where am I anyway? There was something I was looking for wasn’t there? A girl, I can’t remember her name, is that her? I don’t know but her flesh tastes so sweet and I bite her again and crush the screams within her throat with my hand but she doesn’t satisfy my hunger, I’m still hungry, and I can’t seem to control myself anymore and I can’t run without falling down, the world seems to be drunk and slurred, or is that me? And I’m hungry and I can see flesh and I can smell it and I need it and I shuffle after it as fast as I can, finally managing to hook my fingers into the ragged clothes of a lame old man as he drags himself along the ground, screaming for help that won’t come and his eyes scoop out and tear free if I curl my fingers just right and I slurp them down like oysters, his hands push against me, a futile struggle to live, ineffective, they cause me no pain even as the nails tear the skin of my cheek and then my head turns and the fingers are in my mouth and the hand pulls away gushing red and the fingers are still in my mouth, sweet blood swallowed eagerly, flesh stripped from bone and bones spat in the old man’s face that still moans and sobs but quieter now and there’s less struggling, more accepting and I gorge on his flesh but I’m still hungry but I can’t see or smell or hear anything or anyone nearby and I forget everything except feeling hungry and I stand and I stare and I feel hungry and I feel hungry and I look at the wall and I feel nothing but hunger and I’m motionless and empty and blank, except for the hunger, the hunger is everything and I wait for it to be satisfied but nothing stirs me, nothing moves me and it gets dark then light again, then dark and then light and I’m hungry and waiting and then finally a noise causes my head to turn and my body slowly follows and I can smell sweat and hear footsteps and I’m ready to feed but then something thumps against my chest and my vision blurs and I think I’m lying on the ground now but I’m still trying to walk and feed and it gets dark again but doesn’t get light this time and I’m still hungry but even that is starting to fade into the blackness.
Everything is bright white, for a few seconds I can’t see anything at all, the brightness hurts and I blink uncontrollably, try to wipe my eyes but I can’t move my arms, I’m really hungry, shapes start to pop into focus, different shades of white, movement and sounds, the sounds mean nothing to me and one of the shapes comes closer and touches my neck and then the bright white is replaced by a soothing black……
I know my name. Why does that surprise me? I open my eyes and half close them again, squinting around the room, I can see colours again, my stomach growls, I’m starving, I can’t move my arms, or my legs, I’m in a lab or hospital or something, I can see doctors outside my room talking and looking at a clipboard that is being passed between them. What happened to me? How did I end up in here? A female doctor enters the room, checks the screen by my bed, appears satisfied, looks at me, shines a light into my eyes, pricks me with a pin, I flinch away, again she seems satisfied, I start to ask her a million questions but can’t seem to form words and she
doesn’t pay me any further attention as she walks back out of the room, making notes on her clipboard.
I feel normal today, for the first time since I don’t know when, how long have I been here? I try to ask the question out loud, the sound of my voice is strange to me, I repeat my question, quieter, a few more times, shame there’s no one here to hear it. I look over at the screen by my bed, it has a date and time in the corner but it clearly hasn’t been set, unless I’ve gone back in time. The female doctor comes in, she smiles at me, says “Hello.”
I repeat my practiced question “How long have I been here?”
Her reply surprises me, I expected it to have been longer “Just under two months, how are you feeling?”
“Fine, I guess, what happened to me, the last thing I remember I was running from an infected attack in London…. I got bit! You need to get away from me, I’m infected!”
She’s still smiling, starts to undo my restraints “You were infected, we’ve been working on a cure, we’ve had quite a few success stories in the past few months, you’re one of them, you’re lucky, there’s a very small window of opportunity to purge your system of the infection before your body gets too damaged, internally and externally.”
