Devouring The Dead (Book 1)

by Russ Watts

  “No, I won’t sit down. This is ludicrous. You should hear yourselves. Rats? Tunnels? Are you people insane? I’m going back down to the bar to wait this out. They’ll send help eventually.” Philip wobbled his way over to the doorway. “Come on, Kate.”

  “Who are ‘they,’ Philip? Tell me, enlighten us! There’s no ‘they’ left, they’re gone. Don’t you see? The army, the government, they’re gone. No. I’m staying here. These people need our help. We need their help, Philip.”

  He snickered and left his wife behind, heading back down to the bar where he could drink without having to listen to morons. Kate went red, annoyed her husband could be so flippant. She stayed put though. Philip might be able to solve everything with a corkscrew, but she had enough.

  “The plan,” said Christina ignoring the outburst, “is to leave; tomorrow. Our food is already running low and tomorrow will be our third day in this building. I’m not sure we can last much longer.” She slipped an arm around Kate and Kate felt a lump rise in her throat. She took a sip of wine and swallowed her feelings back down. Was she wrong not to support her husband? Should she have left with him? These people seemed like good people and were at least trying.

  Tom swallowed the last of his wine and felt a little better. Despite everything, he actually felt more relaxed now. Must be the wine, he thought.

  “We need lights and torches if we’re going into the car park. It’s completely black down there; there are no lights, no emergency exit lights, nothing,” he said.

  “Do you think we could get in one of the cars and drive through the tunnel? It would be safer than walking, surely?” said Jessica.

  “It would be, but no. I doubt the keys will be sitting in the ignition for us and I’ll be fucked if we’re going to waste time searching this whole building looking for them. You could be looking for a week and never find them. No, we’ll have to go on foot.” Tom reached for the wine and poured himself another drink.

  “There are maintenance rooms on the ninth and eighteenth floors,” said Reggie, who had been listening from the doorway. He had been hanging back, unsure of how to introduce himself. “I can get us some torches and lanterns, even some candles if you like.”

  “Thanks...er..?” said Tom.

  “Reggie.” He walked into the room sheepishly.

  “Have a drink, Reggie,” said Benzo. He handed him a mug of red wine, the plastic cups having been exhausted.

  “So we can see down there,” said Brad, “but what about weapons?”

  “I don’t think we need guns,” said Christina. “Besides, we haven’t got any and I doubt you’ve got any tucked away, eh, Reggie?” He shook his head.

  “No, Brad’s right,” said Tom. “Guns, no; but if we get attacked, we need to defend ourselves. I don’t just mean attacked by other people either. It was a rat that got Freddy. There’s probably more down there. Rats, mice, who knows what. When we went down earlier, there were dogs outside too. They were infected. We need something to protect ourselves with, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, there are plenty of knives around, although I’m not comfortable with the idea of defending myself against an onslaught of the dead with just a kitchen knife,” said Benzo.

  “Saucepans, pots, kettles; anything we can feasibly carry and strike with or defend ourselves with, we should take. It’ll have to do,” said Tom.

  “You said candles, Reggie?” asked Jackson. Reggie nodded. “We could make some torches to burn; wrap some cloth around something, pour over some of your cleaning chemicals, light it, and burn any fucker that gets in our way.”

  “Not a bad idea, Jackson,” said Benzo.

  They continued talking amongst themselves, discussing how best to make the weapons they needed. Tomorrow morning they would go with Reggie and get whatever they could, bring it back to sixteen, and make as many torches to burn as they could. Jobs were divided up so as not to waste too much daylight. Troy and Michelle could go find as many backpacks or satchels as they could find. Jenny and Dina would put as much food and water as they could into them so everyone could carry supplies, and Christina would go with Tom, Parker, and Jill to the roof, so she could outline where the conference centre was and where the tunnel might come out. Beyond getting out, they could not think further than that. Some wanted to head straight home, some wanted to head to the airport, some to the police station; the only thing they could decide on for sure was that they were leaving.

  “We have to know where we’re going and, until we can decide otherwise, once we get out of the tunnel, we should head to the nearest building,” said Christina, “which is the conference centre.”

  “I just want to go home,” said Caterina. “I don’t want to go to the ideal home show, innit.”

  “Okay, we’ve been over this a thousand times,” said Tom rubbing his head. “Look, if the streets are clear and everything is peachy, then go home. Why not? I’m not going to stop you. I hope whatever this infection is has been stopped and I’d love to say that by tea time, we’ll be home watching Coronation Street.

  “But think about it; the reality is that the streets have been taken over. Dead people are walking around out there. Not just walking but running. It’s not safe out there and if you try to get home, the chances are you’re not going to make it. We need to accept that London is most likely gone. And if that is the case, we need to think bigger; not about getting home, but about getting out of the city.”

  “With what little food and water we’ve got, I’m not about to walk to Heathrow,” said Benzo. “If we get to the other side of the tunnel and it’s still chucking down a shit-storm out there, I say we go for the conference centre. Regroup, grab what we can, and go from there.”

  “But we don’t know do we? I mean, we haven’t been outside in three days, so who knows what it’s like,” said Caterina.

  “I think we have a good idea. Look, there’ll be food and water in there for sure,” said Christina.

  “Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day,” said Benzo.

  “I feel like my head’s going to explode,” said Jackson, “there’s so much to think about. Half of it I don’t even want to think about, but I can’t get it out of my head.”

  Caterina got up and stormed out of the office.

  “Hey, Cat, come back!” said Jessica.

  “It’s all right, let her go,” said Tom. “Things are getting tense and she should be relaxing, not stressing and getting any more upset than she has to right now.”

  The group sat in silence for a minute until Brad spoke.

  “Kate, you said there’s a bar on the tenth floor where you were, right? You think we can get some more booze and bring it up here?”

  “Yeah I don’t see why not.”

  “Then let’s go. We’ve got tomorrow morning to get everything sorted. Let’s enjoy tonight as much as we can.”

  “We could do with something to help us relax, that’s true,” said Jessica, staring at the empty wine bottle.

  “I’ll go down there,” said Kate. “It’ll give me a chance to talk to Philip. I need a couple of volunteers to help me carry back some bottles though?” said Kate.

  “I’m in,” said Brad. “We should ask some of the others.

  Everyone should feel like they’re a part of this group and be involved.”

  “Speak to Troy,” said Jackson. “He’s quiet, but he’s reliable. And see if you can find any more food while you’re down there.”

  Brad and Kate left the kitchen and went into the office where they found Troy chatting to Michelle. They decided to all go down together to fetch more food and wine from the bar on the tenth floor.

  “You know someone needs to go talk to Jill and someone needs to go check the foyer again,” said Benzo.

  “I’ll go talk to Jill,” said Tom.

  “No, I’ll go,” said Jessica, getting up and straightening her hair. “You’ve done enough, Tom. Stay here and wait for the party to arrive. I don’t know this Jill, but it seems pretty clea
r she’s upset; she hardly comes out of her room. Maybe she’d prefer to speak to another woman.”

  “Thanks,” said Tom watching her leave.

  “I’ll go check downstairs,” said Benzo. “I’ll sleep happier tonight knowing the door is still shut and we’re not going to be eaten alive by a zillion zombies while we’re up here.”

  He left and Reggie went back to the office to talk to Jenny; he felt more akin to her than anyone else. The group broke up and Jackson was left alone with Tom.

  “You know, there’s one thing I’m worried about. Jenny mentioned it last night and I dismissed her, but...”

  “What is it?” asked Tom.

  “Amber’s missing. I’m not sure you remember her, but she went off yesterday and we haven’t seen her since. I think some of the group have forgotten about her, but I’m worried. I don’t understand where she could be.”

  “Well, I doubt she’s left the building. Look, maybe she’s upset about this whole thing and just wants to be alone? If she doesn’t appear by tomorrow morning, we’ll go look for her okay? Everyone can. We’ll go floor by floor.”

  “Sure, I suppose so,” said Jackson.

  They sat in silence listening to the faint murmurs from next door. Occasionally, they would hear Reggie’s booming laugh. After a while, Kate reappeared with a case of wine. Behind her came Brad, Troy, and Michelle, all carrying cases of wine. Christina walked in carrying a bag of food, mostly biscuits and junk, but at least it was something.

  “No Philip?” she asked Kate whilst the others opened the wine and poured it out.

  “No, he, er, wanted to be alone for a while,” Kate answered, bursting into tears. Kate ran out of the room and Christina followed her.

  “All right, everyone, come and get it!” shouted Brad. He emptied a bag of chocolate bars onto the table.

  “Where’d you get all of them?” said Caterina grabbing a handful. She had calmed down and ripped a bar open. She stuffed it into her mouth.

  “I just kicked a vending machine in,” he said.

  Caterina looked at him as if he were mad and mumbled something through a mouthful of satisfying chocolate.

  “Well, I didn’t have the right change,” Brad said smiling at her.

  One by one everyone filed into the kitchen. Cups and mugs of wine were handed out while crisps and chocolate bars were devoured. They drank and talked about tomorrow and the plan to escape; about what needed to be done. Jessica even managed to get Jill to come in, and she sat quietly on a chair, sipping wine for a while.

  As the evening turned to night, the drinking got heavier, and the mood lighter. They had little to eat and so the alcohol affected them more. Caterina had one glass, just to calm her nerves, and people chatted and slurred as if it was a typical Saturday night in the pub. Tom found himself talking to people he had barely even met: Karl, David, Troy, Julie-Anne, Michelle. He found Michelle intriguing. She was clearly very drunk and yet she had just told him she was pregnant.

  “Do you know Troy?” she had whispered to him conspiratorially, giggling.

  “Yeah, just about, the blond guy, right, with the surfer hair?”

  “Yeah, my Adonis,” she said and laughed.

  “So he’s the father? Well, congratulations,” said Tom.

  “Yeah, right,” said Michelle. The smile faded from her face and she took another gulp of wine. The music and laughter continued around them and she leant in closer to Tom. He could smell the sweet white wine on her breath.

  “He told me he’d marry me. He loves me. But...” Michelle swayed in her chair, unable to focus on Tom for long. He sensed there was going to be a ‘but’ judging by the amount she had drunk.

  “I don’t want it. I’m going to have an abortion, but I haven’t told him yet. I haven’t told my parents either, they’d kill me.”

  Tom thought about what he should say, trying to come up with something reassuring. “Umm...”

  “Yeah, um, indeed.” Michelle looked at him and he saw through the alcohol and laughter; she was buried beneath a mountain of pain and fear. He had a fair amount to drink and was at a loss for words. He couldn’t pretend to understand her issues or know how to help.

  “Your parents might be more understanding than you think, you know?” began Tom.

  “Maybe,” said Michelle. She picked her wine glass back up. “But then again, they’re probably dead so what does it matter anyway.” She stood up and wobbled off to find Troy. Tom watched the party in full swing and ignored his grumbling empty belly; they all had to make do tonight. It was another reason why they had to move tomorrow, he thought: food.

  Tom spied Parker and Jessica together, dancing around the office floor, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Don’t be ridiculous, he thought. There was nothing to suggest they were anything more than friends, but they certainly seemed to be getting on well. If Parker liked her, then good luck, she was undeniably hot. Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her as she danced around, her long legs spinning around and her brown hair flying around her face. Her smile made everything else seem less important. All the death and destruction felt like it was in a different lifetime when he looked at her.

  “Snap out of it, buddy!” shouted Brad in his ear suddenly.

  Tom jerked and spilt wine over his jeans. “Shit, I was zoned out, mate,” laughed Tom getting up.

  “Come on, join the party. I know you’re the new boy, but you’re one of us now.” Brad put his arm over Tom’s shoulders and they both went to join the rest of the merry group.

  Jackson and Reggie tried to pretend they were more civilised, refusing to get up and dance whilst they sat and got sloshed, and swapping stories. Christina came back in and talked to as many people as she could, trying to remember names and faces. Jessica danced the night away and had forgotten all about Chloe; nobody noticed that she was missing. Brad mingled and waited, watching for Kate to come back in.

  When she finally did, he could tell she had been crying a lot. Her make-up was gone, washed off when she’d tried to wash away the telltale signs of crying. There were still faint streaks of mascara running down her cheeks though. Her eyes were red and tired. Now that Christina had smoothed things over, his path would be easier. Philip was clearly on the way out and an opportunity like this was not to be missed. Kate had such nice skin; he would love to try it on, he thought.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Benzo studied the faces pressed up against the glass. He hadn’t seen the dead this close up before. The foyer was cold and he didn’t want to stay down here any longer than necessary, but he was amazed. Even though it was dark outside, they were still here: people crushed up against the glass, disgusting, disfigured, faces trying to eat their way through the door and the walls to him.

  There were no voices but there was sound. The zombies, the infected things outside, didn’t talk, but just made short grunts and moans. Benzo felt like he was inside a bubble with a million faces staring in at him. He saw strangers. Then he saw Rob.

  He was clawing at the glass. One hand had been scythed off and his eyes were distant. Benzo recognised him instantly. It was odd; he didn’t feel scared. He actually felt pity. Benzo was going to leave with Rob before he stopped to help Jessica. If Rob had stopped instead of him, then it would be him out there now in the night, dead. Benzo shuddered and looked away.

  Their numbers were worrying. Benzo decided to leave; if he stayed and aggravated them anymore, the pressure on the doors might start to tell. If it cracked, it would surely shatter, and then it would be over for all of them. Benzo left the foyer and went back upstairs to the party. He could hear the music and loud talking halfway down the stairwell.

  Ranjit wondered if Benzo knew he was being watched. Passing by the tenth floor, Philip watched through a crack in the door as Benzo trudged upstairs. Ranjit saw Philip retreat back to the bar. The idiot would probably drink himself to death there. He had the opportunity to join the others and left! He left his wife behind. That was something Ranjit could never do. Oh,
what he would give to be part of the group now, to have some human contact. The banging, the constant banging, the god-damn never-ending banging was too much. Ranjit stared at the door to the locker room, angry.

  “For fuck’s sake, Stu, just fucking fuck off and fucking die already!” The banging continued.

  Ranjit got up and waddled over to the door. He crashed his fists down on it.

  “Damn you, Stu, damn you to hell! I just want to go home and see my wife. Please.” Ranjit stopped hitting the door, but Stu did not. His dead body, agitated by the sounds on the other side, crashed harder into the door but it would not budge. Ranjit sighed.

  For nearly two days, he had been trapped in here with nothing but a bank of screens and Stu’s relentless banging for company. He had not been too worried at first. It would be sorted out, it always was. The riots last year, the protests - they were all dealt with. The police just moved in and moved them on. But this was different. He saw the police come and go, the army too. Right now on monitor five, there were six dead soldiers hammering at the side of the building trying to get in. There were even more out there in the plaza.

  Ranjit tried to contact his wife all day but the phone lines were dead. He couldn’t raise anyone and he had no way out. His supplies were dwindling fast; only a few chocolate bars and a couple of cans of coke left, then he would really be in a situation.

  “Come on, Ranjit.” He waddled over to the furthest corner of the room where they kept the files and grimaced. The bottom drawer of the filing cabinet was now his toilet and the whole room stank of his piss and shit. What choice did he have? He pulled it open and relieved himself, kicking the drawer shut, sending a loud clang around the hollow room, which drew further attempts on breaking the door down from his dead colleague.

  He went and sat back down at the console and looked at the monitors again. There they all were on floor sixteen, party central. They were immoral; amoral at best. He used to be repulsed by them, but now look at them; there was Jessica dancing around the room; there was Reggie who was talking to someone with a bottle of wine in his hand; and there was the American. How was it fair that he should be there, whilst Ranjit was stuck down here?