“I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t want it either,” said Matt.
Gary collapsed down on his sofa, traumatised by the day. He had little will left in him to even stand.
“What about your son?” asked Matt.
Gary suddenly sprung to life. The brutal killing of his zombified wife had made him completely forget about Chris. He leapt from the sofa and ran upstairs, not at all bothered now by having to step over the corpse of his wife. He reached the top of the stairs and the door to the room he’d seen his son. It was the bathroom, the only one with a lock, and it was locked. He hammered on the door.
“Chris! Chris?” shouted Gary.
There was no response. Matt looked up from the bottom of the stairs, the silence was unbearable. He knocked on the door again.
“Chris, are you ok?”
“Daddy?” asked Chris.
Gary’s heart raced at the response he finally got, to hear anyone talking anymore was a major relief.
“Yes, it’s me. Open the door, son,” said Gary.
“But, but, how do I know you’re not one of the monsters?” asked Chris.
“You’ll have to trust me Chris, I’m here to rescue you,” said Gary.
“But what if you become like Mummy?” asked Chris.
“It’s ok, Chris. I’m ok, and so is my partner Matt, but we have to get away from here, to a safe place,” said Gary.
“In here is safe, the monsters can’t get in,” said Chris.
“But you can’t stay in there forever, son. You haven’t got any food or water,” said Gary.
“Where’s Mummy?” asked Chris.
“She’s gone now, she can’t hurt you,” said Gary.
There was a long silence as Chris thought about what to do. The bathroom was the only place of safety he’d known. The fact that one parent had turned on him frightened him a lot. Finally he crept up to the door and opened it. Gary snatched him into his arms.
“Chris, are you ok?” asked Gary.
“Yes, but Mummy bit me,” said Chris.
Gary’s heart sank as the reality of the situation dawned on him. He pulled Chris back into his view to see the cut flesh on his son’s arm, blood seeped from the wound. This was likely the man’s only family left in the world, and he already knew that would now only last a matter of hours at best. Tears began to stream from his eyes, but he pulled Chris into his arms to conceal his distraught state. He no longer knew what to do, his wife now dead, his son soon to be. Matt walked into the room and could see the pale sad face of his friend.
“What’s up?” asked Matt.
“Sandra bit him,” said Gary.
Matt gasped in disbelief. After all the effort and trauma they’d gone through to save Gary’s family, this is what it had come to. He now wished, they both did, that they’d not gone to his house at all. Sadly, the chance of leaving his family behind was not one that Gary could ever have lived with.
“What do you want to do?” asked Matt.
“I have no idea,” said Gary.
Gary thought long and hard about all of the possibilities. He was trying with all his energy to disassociate himself with his son, knowing full well what had to be done.
“Do you want me to do it?” asked Matt.
“No, wait downstairs,” said Gary.
“Sure?” asked Matt.
“Yeh, go,” said Gary.
Matt went downstairs and sat down on the leather sofa in the living room. He relaxed back in comfort, ignoring the bodies of their victims lying around him. A few moments later Gary walked back down the stairs, looking terrible.
“Have you done it?” asked Matt.
“No,” said Gary.
“You know it has to be done!” shouted Matt.
“No I don’t! What is one more zombie in the world? He won’t know any different and we won’t be around to see otherwise,” said Gary.
Matt thought about what his friend had said and understood. If leaving him to become a zombie maintained some sanity for his friend, so be it.
“So what have you done with him?” asked Matt.
“I told him to stay there where he felt safe, and to lock the door, as we were going to help some other people,” said Gary.
“And he accepted that?” asked Matt.
“Yes, it’s the only place in the world where he feels comfortable and safe, it’s the best way,” said Gary.
Matt said nothing more, as dwelling on the matter would only make things harder for Gary. They both now needed to maintain a solid frame of mind and cool headedness.
“So what do we do now?” asked Matt.
“We clearly can’t stay here, there are zombies everywhere. We either find somewhere that’s fortified, or escape to the countryside,” said Gary.
“What would we do in the country?” asked Matt.
“Well there are less people there, so less zombies,” said Gary.
“But what do we know about the countryside, we aren’t fucking farm boys,” said Matt.
“Then we find somewhere secure with food and drink,” said Gary.
“Sounds like a plan, like where?” asked Matt.
“Only place I can think of is The Mall, very secure and full of supplies,” replied Gary.
“Alright, you got a car?” asked Matt.
“I’ve got a bike, and that’ll be easier to get around with anyway, the roads are all going to be packed,” said Gary.
Gary grabbed the katana from the mantelpiece and handed it to Matt.
“Fucking cool,” said Matt.
Gary took a machete from a cupboard by the TV and they were now ready to go. They knew they would have to leave their shields behind, as they couldn’t carry them on the bike. Despite this, the thought of getting to safety was enough to subdue their concerns. They tucked the new weapons into the strapping of their riot armour and set out from the front door. Looking at the road before them there were zombies everywhere, stumbling towards them.
“Get to the bike, run!” shouted Gary.
They ran quickly forwards to the road where Gary’s bike was parked. Six creatures stood between them and the motorcycle, whilst countless others bore down on them from beyond the vehicle. Matt drew his katana and ran for the first creature. He hacked into the collar of his first target with a strong diagonal cut, it drove into its spine and dropped the creature to the pavement.
Gary drew his machete into his right hand and baton in the left, he charged at the first zombie, all too aware of the need for speed. He smashed the creature’s face with the baton, knocking it downwards and exposing the neck. He swung the machete down with all his force to the back of the neck and the head was cleaved off, spurting blood out across the street. He ran to his next target and cut across the face with his machete, carving it open and the creature spun to the ground.
Matt reached his next opponent and cut vertically into the centre of the skull, the acutely sharp and curved blade driving deep into the brain. He kicked the beast back, pulling the sword from its head as he did so. Matt finally swung horizontally with the katana at his third opponent. His inexperience with the weapon led to poor accuracy and the blade imbedded in the shoulder, almost taking the arm off. He slid the blade from the wound and cut again, this time cutting the head down to the shoulders.
Gary cut down onto the head of his third opponent, hacking twice more until the beast collapsed into a bloody pile before him.
The men were clearly aware of the insurmountable odds, they couldn’t fight on through the mass of monsters. Gary leapt onto his bike and twisted the ignition on. Matt jumped on the bike as the engine of the powerful Ducati roared to life.
Gary pushed back the kick stand and locked the bike into gear. As he put the power down, a zombie grabbed Matt from behind and wrenched him off the bike. Gary had already gone thirty feet by the time he’d realised his friend was missing, slamming the breaks on and spinning the bike around. Matt was back on his feet with his sword drawn, but his helmet was off and blood seeped
from his collar.
“Go!” shouted Matt.
Gary knew all too well that anyone who was bitten was a lost cause, a hard fact to accept. Despite this, he did what was best, spinning the back tyre as he raced off. Leaving his friend behind was a dreadful feeling, but he was partially relieved that his partner was going down fighting, and not the subject of some euthanisation.
Gary continued on his journey alone, with nothing more than his riot armour and two hand weapons. He got a mile towards The Mall when he suddenly noticed an oil slick pouring from an overturned lorry. It was too late. He slammed the brakes on but slid into the slippery liquid. The bike quickly turned onto its side, sending him sliding down the road. Finally he slammed into the side of a parked car.
Despite the shock of the crash, he was on his feet within seconds. Gary felt like crap, but staying on the ground was the instant way to death and destruction. He was now covered in oil down his back and one side. He ached in a number of places, bruised and battered, though his body armour had done him proud. He wondered if it was even worth going on, his bike was his last friend in the world, and that was now destroyed, having tumbled into another vehicle and buckled. His friends and family were gone, his city in ruins, what was worth living for?
Despite all the setbacks and negative feelings, his natural instinct to live kept him moving. Getting to The Mall was all that mattered now. He could only hope that some other intelligent souls had the same idea. More than anything in life now, Gary needed allies. No man could survive alone in this world, he would be quickly overcome or lose all will to live in this frightful apocalypse. For an hour he marched on despite his aching joints. He fought only when he had no choice, when the zombies could not be avoided.
Eventually, now thoroughly exhausted, he was in sight of The Mall. The large car park was almost empty, an odd picture in the day time. He could only imagine that the shoppers fled in panic after witnessing the day’s events on the news. This was fortunate for him, as the last thing he needed was his refuge full of the creatures.
He reached the main front doors of The Mall, they were locked. The re-enforced glass was near unbreakable, and even if you could break it, that would be rather unproductive in the long run. Gary heard the noise of people, a warming feeling that he’d already become unfamiliar with. He walked down the outer wall of the building until he could see some people on the roof. Looking around, a few creatures were already approaching, but they were few and far between. He reached the position below the people on the roof.
“How can I get in?” he shouted to them.
“Have you been bitten?” a man replied.
“Come on how do I get in?” shouted Gary.
“Please, just answer the question!” the man shouted back.
“No, I haven’t been fucking bitten, now let me in!”
“How can we be certain?” asked the man.
Gary held up his hands and turned around to show himself to them.
“Are you happy now?” asked Gary.
The man turned to the others on the roof top. The group was clearly in discussion as to whether they helped him to get in or not, though Gary couldn’t hear them.
“Come on, I haven’t got all day!” shouted Gary.
Finally, a line of sheets tied together was thrown down from the roof.
“You expect me to climb up?” asked Gary.
“Sorry, but we’ve closed off all the doors, this is the best way,” said the man.
Gary took hold of the makeshift rope, he tugged on it to test its strength. He began to climb, it was tough work. He wasn’t near enough as fit as he wished, with the day’s work and his armour not helping in the slightest. Despite this, the wall allowed his legs to do some of the work, and his raw survival instincts provided him with all the determination he needed to get him up there.
After what seemed like an age, he reached the top of the wall he’d climbed, perhaps forty feet. Gary’s body was bruised and battered, his clothes filthy and torn, his joints aching. The people helped pull him over the lip onto the flat roof. He stood up, but not upright, he was arched over panting from physical exhaustion.
“Hi, I’m Gary,” he said.
“You’re a copper?” asked the man.
“Yes,” said Gary.
“Where are the rest of you?” he asked.
“Dead or dying,” said Gary.
The man looked around at the two others, a man and a woman. They were clearly shocked at his response. The group knew the situation was bad, but it was clearly far worse than they had anticipated.
“I’m Patrick, this is Greg and Jessica,” said the man.
Gary pulled off his glove and reached out to shake hands with his new friends.
The situation was bleak, but at least he wouldn’t face it alone.
CHAPTER NINE
Queensland, Australia
It was the second day that Bruce and his band had hit the road with no particular destination or purpose. They had spent the night in a gas station that was miles from any town, but by morning the creatures were already on the horizon.
“So what’s the plan now?” asked Dylan.
“I guess we keep moving, stay safe, wait for the army to do something,” said Bruce.
“You reckon the diggers will sort this out?” asked Dylan.
“Who knows, but what else can we do?” said Bruce.
“So we just keep driving?” asked Dylan.
“At least we stay alive,” said Bruce.
“What the hell is that?” asked Dylan
The two men squinted to make out what they could see up ahead. There was a large vehicle silhouetted against a rock formation up ahead, just fifty yards off the road. As they closed in on its position, Bruce wearily drew up. It was a Bushmaster, an armoured military truck. He stopped fifty feet short of it, not knowing what to expect. He got out and looked across at the vehicle, there was no sign of life nearby.
“Grab your weapons, let’s check this out,” said Bruce.
“Why?” said Connor.
“He’s right, I don’t like the look of this at all,” said Dylan.
“Right now we need guns more than anything else in this world. That is an army truck which clearly has at least something of interest,” said Bruce.
He pointed out at the pintle mounted machine gun on the roof of the wagon. It was a tempting idea.
“If that’s still up there, where are the men?” asked Christian.
It was a fair point. The obvious conclusion was that they’d been killed, but then this was a remote area with no sign of enemy.
“Stop thinking and start walking,” said Bruce.
The group grabbed their prospective weapons and headed over to the Bushmaster. The re-enactors had put all the armour they had with them on in the morning. That protection had saved Bruce’s life once already, he’d be damned if he was going to take it off, discomfort was a small price to pay for his life.
Despite the men having their armour, none had helmets, due to the quick exit they were forced to make. All of them were irritable, the smell of sweat dripping through there gambesons. They approached the big truck from behind, where their car was parked. Staying at a good distance, Bruce moved around the vehicle to survey the situation. It became quickly clear that the heavy beast was not parked there but had crashed. It had ploughed directly into the boulders, clearly veering from the road. The Protected Mobility Vehicle, was fully enclosed.
“Shame its trashed, we could have used a rig like this,” said Connor.
“This looks dodgy mate, let’s get out of here while we have our skin,” said Dylan.
“Not till we have some tasty hardware,” said Bruce.
Bruce moved to the rear door of the vehicle and pulled the handle down, heaving the heavy door open. The body of a soldier tumbled out onto him, knocking him to the ground. He fumbled anxiously to throw the body aside and get to his feet.
“Fuck me dead!” said Bruce.
The group
looked down at the body. A bullet hole was the most obvious feature, puncturing its skull almost directly between the eyes. This one was permanently dead. Bruce looked inside through the door. There were eight soldiers visible, all were motionless. He moved to the door and pushed his poleaxe in to poke a few, just to be safe.
A number of the men had gunshot wounds. Clearly there had been a firefight in this confined space, two of the dead still held handguns in their lifeless hands.
“There’s some nice kit in here, we need to get the bodies out so we can get access to it all,” said Bruce.
“That’s pretty rough, mate,” said Dylan.
“Get used to it, all that matters now is our survival, and if that means shooting a friend in the head to save the rest, you do it!” said Bruce.
He threw down his poleaxe and grabbed the closest dead soldier by the yoke of his webbing and tugged him out onto the sand. His friends watched in amazement as he dragged the body clear of the doorway so that he could pillage anything useful.
“Dylan, keep guard and watch, Connor, Christian, start pulling those bodies out!” said Bruce.
Connor and Christian simply looked at each other, feeling sick at the very thought. Bruce was busy ripping off anything useful from the body, primarily the ammunition.
“Go on, get to it!” said Bruce.
The two men crept up to the truck, sickened by the sight before them. The men had pulled four bodies out when Christian reached for the fifth. As he took hold of the body’s clothing, its eyes opened and hands grabbed his forearm. Before Christian could get free, the soldier bit down on to his arm. The zombie’s jaws drove deeply into his gambeson, but the thickly quilted garment was too deep to be penetrated.
Amassing all his strength, Christian pulled the zombie from its seat, its jaw still firmly rooted in his sleeve. He wrenched the creature hard so that its head pounded against the opposite wall of the truck. The impact caused it to release and drop to the floor. Not waiting a moment for it to recover, he stamped on the creature’s head until it fractured open, spilling blood out across the floor.
“Bit jumpy there, mate,” said Bruce sarcastically.
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