Infected, Zombi The City of the Zol

by Hernández, Claudio

  ‘What the bloody Hell is happening?!’ The cyclist shouted, opening his eyes wide, but remaining standing there, completely paralysed.

  ‘Get out! Don’t let them bite you!’ One of the employees shouted at him, crouching behind the counter. He only managed to see the red hat and the raised broom.

  Suddenly, his companion began to convulse, his vision being lost. He opened his mouth wide and his teeth stuck to the broom in a bite.

  ‘Help me!’

  Though it was too late, for a sharp pain ran through his shoulder to his head, in an alarming situation of tension.

  The still paralysed cyclist, like a perfect idiot, was scratched by another zombie with furious yet innocuous eyes.

  LXXX

  Diego went downstairs via the side of the castle wall and entered one of the open cracked in the rock. Juan followed him from behind. Seeing as they could only hold up for, at best a few more days, at worst, a few more hours, they had to find a way out of the castle. It was clear that the reinforcements weren’t coming.

  Javier stopped stroking his rifle and was now waiting in the queue, initiated by Diego, who seemed to have intimate knowledge of the stronghold.

  The tunnel measured about a metre and a half in height. For that reason, it was necessary to enter crouching down the first aisle of this labyrinth. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all a solid, earth-coloured rock. There were some holes in the walls that let to nowhere, and the hallways led to vaults that were less than two by two metres in size. None of the vaults had doors. It was very similar to the Águilas Caves when it was bombed during the Spanish Civil War.

  ‘Now we have seen three vaults or cellars,’ Diego said.

  Though it was felt that they were beginning to descend, based on the way the hallways declined downwards. Ávlaro followed behind Carmen, his wife, who followed behind Susana. The young tourist also entered the labyrinth. They had travelled in a circle at least three times in the same route, crouched, until realising that they were going in circles. It would be better to follow Diego who, apparently, was the only one familiar with the layout of the corridors.

  ‘Now that I remember, there is a channel that connects this stronghold with an underground tunnel that connects to underneath the Spanish Plaza,’ Diego explained, his eyes gleaming in the light that penetrated through the cracks in the walls of the small vaults.

  ‘Yes, my grandfather had told me of the existence of a large tunnel that saved thousands of lives during the attacks on the port,’ Juan continued to explain, stroking his beard while touching the hard walls of the labyrinth.

  ‘It was through these holes in the walls that the cannons were fired,’ Diego explained, pointing to the holes. His voice reverberated off the walls of the hallway.

  The younger toruists were still held up in the upper floors. Diego’s voice finally dictated the way forward. Although there were dozens of corridors, rooms, and vaults, with a hole through which light and the sea breeze could enter, the finally began to descend, following their own voices that echoed from below.

  The aisles seemed to be made of clay, and every three metres, they connected with an empty vault with an opening in the wall.

  ‘There is also a tunnel that leads to the Hornillo district,’ Diego explained, as his hands rested on the cold hallway wall. If there was anything good about the situation, it was the coolness of the castle compared to the outer heat of the sun.

  ‘We can escape via the sewer exit, walking along the edge of the sea, or take refuge in one of those two tunnels until reinforcements finally arrive. Those bloody bastards out there only know how to moan, I doubt that they will be able to navigate this labyrinth of tunnels.’ Juan’s rant echoed through the walls of the castle.

  ‘Indeed, you are correct,’ Diego said, leading the way. ‘These things…’

  ‘The zombies!’ Juan shouted, cutting him off.

  ‘Well sure, these zombies don’t seem to be very critical thinkers. They are slow and seem to follow only one thing. Perhaps noise, or they follow a certain smell.’

  ‘Yes, they follow the one with the blood,’ Javier interrupted, remarkably crouch, as he was the tallest in the group. He was dragging his rifle, which made a creaking noise on the floor.

  ‘That priest doesn’t seem to do much, but he does appear to be their leader. He seems to think and speak,’ Juan continued, explaining as he followed Diego’s figure which led the group don the corridors of the central zone of the castle, having been rebuilt several times throughout the centuries.

  ‘I understood the same thing,’ Álvaro said, following Juan. Susana and Carmen where in the queue with their lips sealed. They simply kept on crouching and occasionally would bang their heads against the roof of the hallway, which was not exactly parallel to the ground.

  After a few more minutes of descent, they found what appeared to have been the castle kitchen. It was a much larger room with two open holes on the wall, and there were shelves made of the castle stone. In the centre of the room, there were two dark wells that reached inwards by a metre, and in the deepest one, water from the cistern could be heard.

  ‘This was the kitchen,’ Diego snorted, with his index finger shaking with exhaustion but pointing towards the water well. From there, they had access to water, ‘… as you can see.’

  Juan smiled thinly.

  ‘There must have been many Turks and Berbers in here.’

  ‘And the French and the English?’ Diego didn’t know for certain if it was the English that attacked the French, or the other way around. In any case, that did not matter at all, he thought to himself. He continued down the hallway, descending and noticing that it grew colder and colder as they advanced.

  ‘What a difference in temperature,’ Juan said, re-joining them now, rubbing his forearms.

  ‘Yes, much cooler now. Up there it was unbearable,’ Diego’s hand settled on his own forehead and added, ‘My skin is still burning!’

  They must have been halfway down the castle, but within the labyrinth of tunnels they were certainly safer. The wooden door leading to the entrance had already broken under the weight of all of the zombies. They were all in the upper areas of the castle, drooling, exactly where they had previously been, but now they were gone. At least, this is what they suspected.

  As the group reached a point to rest, in the hallways above, the horde of zombies stood and began to walk into the corridor that joined the towers, shambling and moaning under the seagulls the flew overhead.

  The sound of their moans reached the survivors’ ears through the tunnel access.

  LXXXI

  ‘It’s time to get out of here,’ the plump man said, rising from the floor.

  ‘Why?’ the blue-eyed woman asked, holding the child in her arms.

  ‘Look,’ he directed, pointing to the silhouette of an elderly woman walking erratically, the same way that they had done the previous day. ‘That woman is one of them, and they will come in here.’

  ‘Look, Tomás!’ The little boy shrieked, his voice rising in the air like a shrill siren.

  ‘Tomás?’ The blonde woman said, holding the little girl. ‘How does he know your name?’

  ‘Because he is my nephew.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That is neither here nor there, it’s time to get the Hell out of here.’

  ‘Look! More of those weirdos are coming!’ The little girl’s blueish eyes were barely aligned to the wall of the closed area of the One Hundred and Fifty Houses building.

  ‘Sit down!’ The blonde woman ordered, tugging on her blue dress.

  ‘It will be better for all of us, we need to get the Hell out of here!’ Tomás’ eyes widened eerily like those of a madman. ‘Have you forgotten what those savages are capable of?’

  The blonde woman shook her head, under the shadow of the stairs. Fortunately, the rubbish bins guarded their view, though the zombies were attracted to noises and smells. Though, they wer
e still ignorant to this information.

  Half of the city was privy to the knowledge of the zombies. Unfortunately, this means that the other half are not. The half that knew of them believed it to be a virus, and the news spread fast through the streets of Águilas.

  There were a couple of them that dragged their bloody feet from the parallel street, Callejón de la Huerta. In the middle of the street, there were elderly people sharing glasses of cognac in the reserved space outside of the La Alegría de la Huerta bar, when two zombies approached. One of the old men, with grey hair and a tanned face, cleared his throat and spat to the ground.

  ‘Gross!’ One of the old men exclaimed, placing his glass of cognac on the plastic table.

  The shirtless zombie, with multiple scratches across its bloody body and a foamy mouth, stumbled and shambled its way up the platform towards the bar where the tables and umbrellas were.

  ‘Oh!’ The plumpest of the older men exclaimed, sipping his brandy mixed with café.

  ‘What’s going on then, mate?’ Another of about sixty-five years asked, approaching the zombie to shake its hand.

  Suddenly, there was a throbbing pain that started from his arm and shot to his temple, making his heart beat faster.

  ‘You bloody bastard!’

  ‘What’s happening, Alberto?’ the other old man asked, still sitting.

  ‘The bastard has bitten me!’

  ‘Come now!’

  ‘Really!’ He replied, showing off his bloody hand.

  The old man’s eyes widened and the other man’s eyes flickered three or four times at the perplexity.

  Then, the other zombie bit the seated man in the neck and blood spurted to the ground like a hose. He shouted. Then, the two zombies proceeded their march, shambling and dragging their unbalanced feet, but one with a piece of meat hanging from its teeth.

  They turned the corner on Pablo Iglesias Street, where Tomás, his nephew, the two women, and the little girl were still hidden under the stoop, in the shadows. The two zombies, unlike their film counterparts that held their hands up, had their arms inert, against their hips. Their backs were bent with each step, and their legs took strange forms when walking, much like a paralytic in their recovery phase.

  ‘Look at those two!’ Tomás pointed with his plump finger.

  The Moroccan woman looked up and covered her eyes as soon as she saw them.

  ‘They’re finally here!’ She reacted, touching her hijab.

  In the other parallel street, Ramón y Cajal, a zombie in the form of a woman stood still, uneasy, as if she were deciding where to move. Something had caught her attention. It was probably the smell of Tomás and the rest of the group’s blood.

  ‘Listen up,’ Tomás began, his voice being slightly altered. ‘We’re going to get out of here via the alley,’ he began, pointing towards the rubbish bins on Deportes Street. ‘I can see a building that is under construction there at the end of the street. We will hide out there. On the count of three we’ll make a run for it.’

  The blonde woman nodded, as well as the little, blue-eyed girl.

  There were already two zombies close by. Tomás took his nephew’s hand, and the two women began to get up. Tomás began his countdown.

  ‘One…’

  ‘Two…’

  He looked at the women with his sweaty face and concluded, ‘Three!’

  With that, they ran from where they were hidden with great strides, being heard by the two zombies on the other side. Their rigid necks twisted, looking in their direction, from where the sound originated, opening their mouths.

  Tomás began to drag his nephew and the two women ran as fast as they could, one with the little girl’s hand gripped tightly, pulling her like a stuffed animal. They crossed the street and entered Deportes Street, passing a red-bricked building and two more buildings with beige paint on the façade. Next to them was a large building under construction, with about thirty-five floors, but unfinished. At the end of the street there was an elderly woman with grey hair feeding some cats that were purring around her.

  Tomás directed his finger towards a barbed-wire with a sign at the entrance. He tried peeling it back, but cut his finger on the wire, and a drop of blood came from his finger. He pulled the sign back, towards him, and through the gap, he created an entrance for the others. Behind him, Tomás resealed the gap. They would be safe inside, he thought to himself. The work had already advanced, and there were many places to hide, such as in the garage in the cellar of the building.

  LXXXII

  ‘Juan, what is happening here!?’ Ángel asked the father, who was now pale as chalk with a sweaty forehead. Juan was Ángel’s neighbour, and, at the moment, they maintained a good relationship, both with him and his children.

  ‘Ángel! This white man does not die!’ Juan’s voice croaked, low and hoarse. He put his handkerchief to his forehead to dry it. ‘This white man has bitten my son, Santiago, can you see? He ripped off a piece of his ear and swallowed it! But not before biting into his arm!’

  ‘What?! What?!’ Antonio, Ángel’s eldest son, said. It was a nervous habit of his that made him repeat words sometimes.

  ‘Yes! And now my son had gone mad!’ He is foaming at the mouth and has tried to bite the women!’ Juan wiped his forehead again, staring at the line of people behind him, where his other son was trying to reason with his now white-eyed brother, holding the knife between them.

  ‘This is exactly what happened yesterday in the neighbourhood!’ José exclaimed, shaking his head nervously.

  ‘Yes! It is!’ Mario added, shaking his curly head.

  ‘But what is happening?!’ Juan asked, now growing paler and more worried. His heart began to thump in his chest like a huge hammer and he began to feel a strong pain in the area. ‘Ángel, I’m becoming scared! This is exactly what happened yesterday in the neighbourhood, now I remember! Could it be a virus?’

  ‘Go, children! See what is happening! And protect yourselves,’ Ángel said, putting his toothpick back in his mouth, running it through his lips.

  Neither Antonio, José, nor Mario had any firearms. Though, suffice it to say that they had something better, a big set of balls.

  ‘Don’t worry Juan, we’ll take care of this!’ Antonio said, walking towards the now broken line behind them. As he approached, he saw Juan Contreras’ two sons facing off, one with a knife in hand and the other with a now bloodied face and a bloody arm.

  ‘Blessed be you!’ Juan Contreras said, reaching for his handkerchief in his hand. His hat was still sitting on his head, in his dark hair.

  And behind him was José, while Mario stayed behind to protect his father and Juan Contreras.

  LXXXIII

  The air was now starting to become cooler, something best appreciated on a hot day outside when the lizards rested on rocks and baked in the sun.

  Diego advanced down the narrow corridor, leading to a room or a vault. Through this, there was light entering from one of the open holes in the walls of the castle. Though, this room had no open holes, and it seemed to be the end of their descent down that corridor.

  ‘Shit! It ends here…’ Diego grimaced, his eyes very expressive.

  ‘So, it’s all over?’ Juan interrupted with grim eyes.

  ‘I knew it, you couldn’t be that clever,’ Javier said derisively, turning his head and biting his upper lip.

  Álvaro, however, was stunned by this scene. Something told him that those bloody zombies would come in and crawl through the same corridors that they had walked into, and there, in that small room without light, everything would end. Suddenly, he stopped thinking about that fatality.

  ‘Then let’s back up a bit and take another aisle and see where it leads,’ Diego said, making his way between them, as crowded as the Madrid Underground during rush-hour.

  ‘Now we have to turn back,’ Javier complained, squinting. His unnervingly red lips were now watched by his wife.


  ‘Oi oi, do you think that you can do any better than them?’ Álvaro replied back, laughing, looking into his eyes with the same level of hatred that has always existed between them.

  ‘So what, you also think that you are smarter? Then what are you doing stuck here at a dead end?’ Javier replied.

  ‘That’s enough!’ Susana shouted, raising her hands in desperation and showing the palms of her hands and nails like a cat.

  ‘Are they always like this?’ Juan asked with a frown in his face.

  ‘Worse…’ Carmen replied.

  ‘Oh…’ Juan replied, somewhat annoyed.

  ‘Now is not the time for arguing!’ Diego shouted. ‘Now, let’s find that other corridor…’

  ‘Very well,’ Juan replied back.

  The young Asian tourist with the cap and camera hanging from his neck was still sweating, with his eyes a bit more widened.

  They ascended the corridor a bit more, with the light becoming more intense. Through one of the holes, which acted as windows opening to other rooms, one could see the castle centre with the cistern, like a giant pitcher of water.

  The new corridor that they had taken this time took them two more levels below the castle. Many of the rooms were now windowless, as they were in the castle centre. From here, they could see many other corridors, but Diego was looking for the exit towards the sea. Though, he was not worried, as he had figured that the zombies were not smart enough to discover the labyrinth of corridors underneath the castle. Thoguh, he noted that something guided them.

  They continued down the corridors that were carved out of limestone and saw the dungeons. The heard the waves breaking against the rocks. Down where they were, the air was very cool, and the smell of salt water and algae flooded the void of corridors.

  That was when they saw him.

  LXXXIV