by Birch, S. C.
Jack launched his whole body on the sofa and threw his arms in the air, “No. Please. No more fucking noodles.”
“Other good news, we found more survivors!” said Plastic Lucy, “None as noteworthy nor gorgeous as the lovely Owen Parker, but survivors none the less -”
Owen groaned in immeasurable pain as he hid behind his hands.
“Mate, she clearly has a thing for you!” said Jack.
“Oh God. Don’t make me shoe you.” grumbled Owen from behind his hands.
“And I almost forgot, how silly of me.” said Peroxide Lucy as she fanned herself and giggled, “He will be on all our screens at six o’clock tonight. I must say I am rather excited.”
“Nice of her to tell us, isn’t it?” asked Real Lucy.
“Oh dear lord, no…” Owen whimpered, still hiding behind his hands.
“More good news time!” said Soft Porn Lucy, “We received a message from a survivor in Japan. We will be broadcasting it later, though; tomorrow, I think. But he said that he is still alive with a few other survivors, and it looks like the government may still be functioning. But there are survivors out there. That’s the main thing. And the last of my good news is possibly the best news of them all. Our own personal soldiers here have received three more trucks filled with the devil drink, Moonshine. They have been burning all the cans and bottles they find and are expected to be at it for a few more days. But it’s not just our boys doing it. I heard that this came from the President in America. Apparently, they started doing it first. Now, all over the world, people are burning all the Moonshine they find. And the factories in Kettering have been set on fire, too. Is that not just wonderful? Soon our world will be free of it and we can live our lives again. And, in other good news, we didn’t lose a single person yesterday. Personally, I’m going to have a little white wine that I have stashed to celebrate. Until tomorrow, everyone, please take care.”
“Oh my God! Are they that fucking idiotic? Do they even know what’s in that shit? I bet that them burning the fucking stuff will make things so much worse.” Owen said.
Daniel perched himself down beside Jack, “I told you that most of this was due to people going mad.”
“We need to tell everyone to stop it.” said Cameron.
Emily sat forwards and started chewing on her bottom lip, “Yeah, we really do.”
As Owen mulled over what could be said, considering they were going to have to say something, he sat back in his place and looked outside. And they really were going to have to say something, he knew that. It was a fact that had been screamed at him. Not by anyone in charge, but by someone, Owen was sure, had never been able to read a book the whole way through.
He looked out the glass wall. The person, whoever he was that had taken a beating earlier, was still on the ground. And he wasn’t moving. But maybe, thought Owen, he was moving and it was just because they were so high that he couldn’t tell.
Owen looked along the city. A large group walking through the streets, and some were holding weapons. He couldn’t see what they were, but they looked like metal poles and bats. And as they reached a large square filled with monuments in the middle of the city, they were met by soldiers. Everyone was clearly shouting. Then a soldier took a swing at a civilian. A brawl erupted. The Soldiers used their guns as bats and clobbered their way through the battle. Gas rose from the ground in the middle of the civilians and engulfed them. Even children were slammed to the ground.
Owen looked away from the scene and to his boots. He couldn’t watch any more.
***
At ten minutes to six, there was a common thumping on their door.
“We’re nowhere near it.” said Owen. He hauled himself off the floor and sat down on an armchair.
Andrew barged his way in, again with another six guns and soldiers behind them. A large camera on wheels was pushed through the room and set up in front of the television. Behind them strolled in four men wearing everyday clothes carrying cables and tablet computers. They started pushing leads in here and there, taping on their tablets, avoiding eye contact with everyone while the guns stood in a line on either side of the camera.
“This is how it works.” said Andrew as he sauntered throughout the room, “You tell everyone that you are happy and that things are top fucking notch. Tell them that the only way to survive this is to do exactly as we say. Tell them that everything in the world is fucking roses and puppies. We clear?”
Owen nodded.
“Good.” said Andrew. He looked at them all one by one, “Why you dressed like that?”
Grace straightened herself up on the floor and tucked her legs under herself, “We thought that people might prefer it if we look like we’re ready to kill zombies.”
Andrew looked down at the little voice. “You’re smart. I like that.” he watched Grace for a while before swinging his legs forwards and towards her. He crouched down and pulled his gun into his stomach. His face hovered in front of hers, “What’s your name?”
“Grace.”
A smirk spread across Andrew’s face, “Grace what?”
Grace shook. She trembled as she looked at the ground, “Thomson.”
Andrew stared at her, his smirk widened, “Well, Grace Thomson, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to knowing you better.”
“Back off.” said Jack.
Andrew looked up at Jack over Grace’s head and his smirk became vile and slimy. “Guess it’s time to start the show then. You might want to get comfy.” He slid to the wall and watched. The red light at the side of the Camera lit up and one of the men beside it nodded at the group.
Silence.
Andrew shifted the gun in his hand and looked down on the group. The left corner of his mouth started twitching and his eyes narrowed.
“Eh. Hello, I’m Owen Parker. And, eh, we’re the guys from those videos.” Owen said. All he could feel was blood pumping through his body. It fixed all his attention. Owen needed to keep on living. He needed to live through a stupid broadcast at least once. But Owen was an actor. All he needed to do was say his lines with conviction. “So yeah, we got here last night, and, eh -”
Remember, Owen, he thought, always smile in front of a camera. Owen smiled as wide as he possibly could, “We got here yesterday morning and were given this brilliant room.” That’s it, Owen, compliment everything, “And everyone has been so great and took us in here.” Good! Compliment the host, always compliment the host. “And I know that in other videos we did we talked about going out.” No! What are you doing? No, don’t say that! Remember your cues. What did Andrew say? “But we learnt the hard way that it was a horrible idea. Like, just really bad, don’t do it.” That’s it, Owen, bring it back, you can win this. “I honestly think that being here really is the safest thing for all of us.” Nearly there, it’s nearly over. “Oh and, sorry, one last thing, these guys? The ones running this place?” Tread carefully here, Owen. “My God, they totally know what they’re doing. I mean, if they hadn’t found us, Christ knows what would have happened to us.” That’s it! Last stupid fucking plug and this is over. “I think I can say for all of us that this place really saved our lives. And so has everyone in it.” Brilliant! Now say your goodbyes before Jack opens that stupid mouth of his. “So, yeah, I think that’s everything. You’ll have to excuse me, guys, I’m just so overwhelmed just now that my brain’s not working. But I promise I will be better tomorrow. Till next time.”
Owen stared at Andrew. Andrew nodded. The technicians crawled over the machine and wheeled it out. But the soldiers still stood.
“That was good, I’m actually impressed. You really are my son’s hero, Owen, he will be so happy to know that I’m keeping you safe.” Andrew winked and looked down to Grace, “And I’ll see you the same time tomorrow.” he and his smirk hovered before he strolled out the door with his guns behind him.
The door locked.
The room was silent. Stagnant. Owen looked around. His friends were immob
ile. In the same position they had been since the recording started. And Owen had never seen Jack look so furious, and in the same way, broken. Defeated.
“Jack?” Owen asked. He didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m going to kill him. I am. I will be the one that watches him die. I am going to feed him his fucking insides and laugh at him as he begs me to stop.” growled Jack. He shook with untempered rage. Every muscle in his body tense. Every ounce of him desperate to kill. Jack shot himself off his perch, stormed into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut.
Emily threw herself down beside Grace and pulled her in close, wiping away her tears.
Owen followed Jack into the bedroom and watched as he dug his fingers into a chest of drawers. Jack was shaking his head slowly and controlled.
“Jack? You need to calm down. We need to keep cool heads just now.” Owen said.
Jack continued to dig his nails into the wood. “FUCK!” he screamed and pulled the dresser down. It shattered on impact. But Jack wasn’t done yet. He marched to Owen, swiped the bat from his belt, and attacked the broken chest of drawers. Jack screamed and smashed. Owen waited. He watched his friend attack an inanimate object and did nothing. He didn’t know what to do.
“Jack?” asked the little, broken voice of Grace.
Jack stood up, still hunched over the shattered wood, and looked at Grace. His chest and arms raised and lowered with each enraged breath he took.
Grace walked forwards.
Owen left and sat back down on the sofa where he shook his head and thought about their god-awful situation.
Lucy ran from her seat and to the bathroom. The door slammed behind her. And from behind the door, Owen could hear her cry, so he followed her. He stood behind the door and listened.
“Lucy? Can I come in?” he asked. But Lucy said nothing. He could hear her trying to swallow her sobs.
“Move!” said Emily. She pushed Owen out of the way, barged into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind her. But Owen caught a glimpse of Lucy as the door was opened. Collapsed on the floor, holding herself. Owen wanted to go in after her. But what could he do? There was nothing he could say to make this any better. So he sat back down on the sofa.
“Owen?”
“Daniel?”
“How did you do that?”
Owen looked at Daniel and sighed, “Do what?”
“Talk. To the cameras. I couldn’t even move.” said Daniel who really hadn’t moved at all. He was still bolted to the armchair.
“Be damned if I know. Just thought about all those TV appearances I had to do about a million years ago.” Owen sighed and held his face up with his hands.
There was some light, but urgent chatter from the bathroom, and silence from the bedroom. And Owen sat. He thought about how to leave. He needed to get the hell out of there.
Thumping at the door.
“Fuck no.” Cameron whispered and wrapped his fingers around his rifle.
The door unlocked.
Owen sat forwards and pushed his feet hard on the floor. Reaching for his bat, he realised it was missing. Owen darted his gaze between the door and everywhere else in the hopes of finding something.
The door pushed open.
Daniel gripped his club and pulled it forwards inch by inch.
In walked a man with a large, plastic bowl in one hand and cutlery in the other.
Three guns in front of soldiers came in.
The chatter in the bathroom died.
The man looked as tense as Owen felt. He walked over to them. Slowly he placed the bowl and forks on the coffee table.
The guns stood by the door.
The man walked to the guns and out the door.
The guns left.
The door closed. Then locked.
Owen felt a sigh escape him as he sank into his seat.
Emily and Lucy burst in and scanned the room.
“They brought us food. Don’t worry.” said Owen.
Emily walked to the table in the middle of the room and dropped some crumpled tissue paper.
“This is from that Other Lucy.” she said, “She’s been picking at the wall behind the toilet and managed to pass this through to us.”
Owen picked up the note and smoothed it out. The message had been scrawled in eyeliner and had run in places. But they could make it out.
You need to help me get out of here. I know I seem stupid but it’s an act. It’s not safe here. Please, you need to help me leave.
“Fuck.” said Cameron as he sat back in his seat. He wrapped both his hands on the back of his head and hunched forwards.
Clutching at her scalp Lucy sat down beside Owen. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close.
“Jack! Grace! Family meeting!” Emily shouted from her spot.
Jack and Grace came out of their room and stood by the door. Emily picked up the note and handed it to them both.
“So,” Emily pointed like fury at the tissue paper, “we need to talk about what the fuck we do now.”
Jack and Grace read the note.
“Yeah, this is getting worse by the minute.” Owen said.
“What’s next then?” Jack asked. “Wanna leg it and hope no one notices?”
Emily groaned, “That’s obviously a dumb idea.”
“I know. It was sarcasm.” Jack said.
“Personally, I don’t give a fuck how we do it but we need to get out as soon as humanly possible.” Lucy said.
Owen sat at his window and watched the smoke waft into the world below. He couldn’t comprehend just how far society had fallen. It was fucking absurd. And over a few zombies at that. Owen was, up till then, convinced that the world really would go back to normal. Where people complain about bills and the weather. He couldn’t imagine that world anymore. It had abandoned him. Owen was never going to see it again.
Day Sixteen
It is important at this stage to note that the Fight or Flight mechanism all creatures are hard-wired with cannot comprehend the end of the world. Particularly when faced with mindless, famished and crazed corpses. The need to fight for survival, coupled with the need to flee for safety, sends the brain into overdrive and no mind can comprehend that. None. Not even those monks who can set themselves on fire and continue reading a book. Every person in the world acts irrationally during this time. It may be a subtle thing like deciding that, in fact, cravats are rather fetching. It can also be as dire as burning the source of an epidemic and letting its fumes escape into the world without thinking through the consequences. And on the sixteenth day of the end of days, every country that still had governmental power had done that.
The decline started slowly, of course, as these things often do. Those scientists in their lab coats and suits carried out all sorts of tests on Moonshine before Day One and found something rather alarming. Mostly they thought that heart palpitations and in extreme circumstances full cardiac arrest would be the worst of it. But as is the usual case with consumerism, the cans were pushed to market regardless of the warnings. And Moonshine did exactly what had been predicted. The heart did indeed stop. Then it started beating again, but just the once. And this, along with the chromosomal mutations, is what really caused the dead to reanimate.
Some people, pre-apocalypse, already had a chromosomal mutation similar to the ones suffered in zombies. In some instances, it caused disabilities, in other cases it produced little or no symptoms.
The particular chromosomes in question control the development of proteins within the human body. Everything from skin, muscles, collagen, and organs. It affected every aspect of the once human. This is why they craved meat. Their bodies needed to replenish the proteins that the mutated chromosomes could no longer supply. This is why they acted deranged. Their brain, being an organ, degraded exponentially and left the now dead in a permanent state of frenzy. This is why they rotted. Their bodies couldn’t produce the proteins and collagen required to preserve skin. This is why, in their original form
, they were so easy to kill. Their bodies were weakened, which was the case for many of the living who suffered the mutation.
And this is why some, like Jack, were immune. They already had a similar genetic mutation and therefore their genetic make-up was resilient to the changes many were not immune to. Jack was one of the few with this genetic glitch. And although he was entirely unaware, it had indeed saved his life.
Owen was obviously oblivious to this knowledge. All he knew was that the cloud of smoke was potentially lethal and that the undead were faster, more resilient, and growing in numbers daily. Owen continued to watch out his window. The people below moved slower. Soldiers needed to take breaks. Small undead hordes appeared at the wall. As did masses of survivors. They piled in. Some in the same fashion he had entered the city and others of their own accord.
It was nearly twelve. Owen sat down on the sofa and waited for Next Door Lucy to appear on the screen. There was that wail. Then her face. And to know that she was as trapped as them, Owen felt sorry for her. She was a real person behind all those injections, sunbeds, and silicone. And she was just as scared as them.
“Good afternoon, everyone. As you know, it’s twelve o’clock so it’s time for our little get together. I’m Lucy Crawford. I don’t have as much good news today as I did yesterday. I am sorry for this. Firstly, we have received masses of survivors. Three hundred and forty-two in the last seventeen hours alone. Which is just so delightful. They have all been welcomed into our family. Secondly, I have been told that we are that little step closer to a vaccine. Not a cure as I previously said. But it is currently being synthesized. This vaccine should make all survivors immune to the virus from bites from Rotters.”
“She seems different today.” said the Lucy sitting beside Owen on the sofa.
Owen watched the Screen Lucy, and Real Lucy was right. She wasn’t her happy, bouncy self. Something had changed.
“So far we have only managed to find three people who are immune, one of which lives here with us, and he is invaluable in this time.” said Smarter Lucy.
