by Ben Stevens
Parker took shelter behind one of those strange ‘roof-walls’, several courses high, which had always made Parker wonder exactly what purpose they serve. But it was hardly the most ideal cover. He had the opened hatch under scrutiny – and yet he kept having to raise his head to check the roof next to this one, aware that the hog there could just leap over in a moment...
Parker shucked off his rucksack, opened the gun barrel, and quickly replaced the four bullets he’d fired already – four shots that hadn’t hit anyone. More hogs would be coming up; ascending the staircase inside this building, the next and perhaps also the one behind. This last building was on the opposite side of the street – but still they could shoot at him from there. How many directions could Parker hope to keep under cover, armed solely with his six-shot pistol?
It was time to move. Quickly. The buildings along this street – the one which had the chemist’s in it – were all situated close together. Parker’s one hope was just to escape along the rooftops. Or stay here, and be hunted down and trapped like a rabbit.
He stood up and fired two more shots into the roof opening. Then he was running towards the edge of the roof before the next building. At that moment, the hog decided to show himself. Long beard, plaited, as was hog fashion. The word Fucker tattooed on his forehead. He flashed a broken-toothed grin as he almost lazily lifted his rifle to fire.
But Parker was quicker. Parker had been travelling alone for around two years and you didn’t survive twenty-four months in this type of world unless you had some idea concerning what you were doing. Even as he ran and prepared to jump the approximate two-foot gap, Parker raised his pistol and fired two shots straight at the area tattooed Fucker.
One shot would have been sufficient – it instantly made the Hog fly backwards, rifle falling from his hands as the blood spattered in a convincing manner – but Parker wasn’t taking any chances. A second shot, just to make sure.
Parker didn’t even look down as he vaulted the space between the two buildings. Around the edge was a slightly raised area, that was all. The next apartment block rooftop had an improvised clothesline using two wooden poles. A single white sheet flapped from it. Whether this laundry line had merely been erected by a space-starved resident before the virus had struck, or by an apocalypse survivor afterwards, Parker had no way of knowing.
Then he dropped down and turned around. Fired off another two shots and hit the hog who’d just clambered out of the hatch on top of the building Parker had just leapt from. The hog gave a yell, clutching his shoulder. Parker went to fire again – a fatal shot, this time – but the hog dropped down on his belly and so Parker could no longer see him.
Parker leapt across to the next building, and then three more. And then just a real wide space to the buildings beyond the street below. Parker realized that he’d merely trapped himself on a total of six flat roofs above apartment blocks that had also had a shop or some other business on their ground floor.
Still, this was the last flat roof. No way of getting to it save from the one next to it, or via the roof-hatch – which was shut. And the roar of the vehicles down below; the stink of exhaust and the heavy rock music...
Parker went to the side of the roof overlooking that road and looked over. Instantly a machinegun chattered and he whipped his head back. Reloaded his gun. This was shaping up to be a long night.
‘Hey! Hey!’ cried one of the hogs from below.
‘What the fuck you want?’ returned Parker after a moment’s hesitation. No point in mincing words.
‘You gonna burn, baby. You gonna burn...’
This hog’s meaning was hardly cryptic. They were about to set this apartment block on fire. Parker couldn’t recall what the shop had been on the ground floor but doubtless there were plenty of flammable items within it...
As well as in those apartments above...
Parker yanked open the roof hatch, and lowered himself to the fullest extent of his arms before dropping onto the top floor landing. Left arm still hurt like hell from the bites but he ignored it. He went down exactly the same type of staircase as was in the first apartment block he’d entered. On the floor below were two apartments. The door to Parker’s left had the big red ‘X’ sprayed on it, while the door to Parker’s right was ajar...
Cautiously, Parker pushed the door fully open. There was a slight creak. The apartment lay in semi-darkness, the doors to all the rooms open and the curtains apparently drawn in every one. No sickly-sweet smell; but again, Parker couldn’t take it wholly for granted there were no things in here.
He thought he could smell smoke, now. Coming from below. So probably no hogs coming into this apartment block after him – either from above or below.
Parker stole into the living room and there was the corpse. Sat in an armchair with a machinegun still held in his skeletal hands. All around him boxes of canned goods, large bottles of water. There was a hammer on the floor, a cardboard box of large nails, a saw and several lengths of wood that looked as though they’d been cut exactly to span the inside of the front door.
Parker read what had happened. The virus had suddenly hit this man wearing the camouflaged cap and it had hit him hard. Some people had taken several days to die of the virus – the ones who were most likely to transform into a thing upon ‘dying’ – while others had expired within literally minutes of first feeling unwell. This man had been about to nail himself up inside his apartment-cum-survival fortress when he’d suddenly felt overcome with sickness and fatigue, been forced to sit down – and had promptly died.
Unlucky for the man. Extremely fortunate for Parker.
The living room window with the curtain drawn across it would look down into the street where the hogs had all their vehicles rumbling... Parker briefly stared at the machinegun, thinking. He’d never fired one before and he’d not the least idea how to use such a weapon; but he figured that this man had already had it all set up to go...
Then Parker took notice of the items on the wooden table that was next to the chair with the corpse on it. His eyes widened. He moved forwards to check them out more closely.
They looked like small black metal eggs. Three of them. Each one of these eggs had three buttons and a small, inset LED screen. There was some tiny writing in what looked to be Chinese or something above each button. Parker’s brow creased with confusion. What the hell were these?
He pressed one button with his forefinger. Almost dropped the ‘egg’ in surprise as a red 5 appeared on the screen. Then a 4 – a low ‘beep’ accompanying the change in number...
‘Oh shit...’ said Parker then, realizing what these eggs in fact were.
3
He ran over to the window and ripped open the curtain. Gunfire immediately sounded out in the street, bullets smashing through the glass.
Great – that saved Parker having to break it himself.
2
He stepped back and – as more bullets came whizzing into the room and smashed into the ceiling and walls – threw the grenade outside as he heard it beep down to 1.
A huge explosion then blew in the rest of the glass of the living room window and caused the room to shake. There was shouting and yelling from outside; a motorbike revved up before being driven away at speed. A man started screaming – ‘My legs! My fucking legs!’
Parker smiled grimly to himself. Got another grenade and stabbed the same button as before. He nodded at the corpse sitting in the chair as it beeped from 5 down to 4.
‘Thanks, buddy,’ said Parker sincerely. ‘I think you and your gizmos here just saved my life.’
The grenade was at 2 when Parker lobbed it straight out of the window. Another huge explosion that seemed to shake the very foundations of the apartment block with the shop at its base.
More shouting, yelling and screaming. Hogs bellowing at each other to get out of here – fast. Parker went to get the last grenade; and then looked again at the machinegun held in the corpse’s skeletal grip.
‘�
�Scuse me,’ said Parker, seizing the gun with only a slight grimace. His blood was racing now, his jaw set. He remembered those bodies he’d seen these past months; once three had been nailed to crucifixes planted at the side of the road, their private parts cut off and shoved in their mouths...
Time these hogs got a little payback, thought Parker.
He just hoped that when he pulled the trigger this gun would blaze into life. Wouldn’t be quite the same if he started having to use his pistol.
He went over to the window and risked looking out. A scene of devastation. Several cars and motorbikes upended and destroyed. One end of the bulldozer scorched and smoking. Leather- and denim-clad bodies strewn out in the road, a couple still moving slightly.
Those hogs who’d escaped being blown up were clambering into a couple of cars, three others on one motorbike. Quickly, as they started to drive away, Parker pointed the machinegun and pressed the trigger.
The shattering noise and tongue of flame leaping from the barrel almost caused Parker to drop the weapon. But he kept his finger depressed, and the three hogs on the motorbikes were all knocked off. Then the back windows of the cars were blown in, one car careering into another, both smashing into the side of a building a short distance along. Parker followed the last car, snarling as the machinegun clicked empty and the car safely retreated into the distance.
Then, dropping the now-useless weapon, he grabbed the last grenade and shoved it inside his rucksack before leaving the apartment. The stench of smoke rising up the stairway strong now. But still Parker moved quickly down, holding his breath and fanning the smoke away from his eyes. With any luck, he could still make it to the entrance by the foot of the stairs...
And then he was at once out into the balmy summer’s evening. One squirming hog lying on the ground in front of him. Parker pulled out his pistol.
‘Ah – c’mon man...’ rasped the hog, fear flaring in his pouched, piggy eyes.
Parker shook his head, briefly took aim and fired. Another hog, ahead, tried desperately to crawl away. Parker raised his pistol and fired again. Then he walked over to where the two cars had crashed into the side of the building. The occupants were dazed, but not badly hurt. One man, stood by the opened driver door, saw Parker coming and shouted at someone still inside to pass him a shotgun.
Parker fired and the man went spinning before collapsing to the ground. Parker then suddenly ran sideways, crouching low, seeing the barrel of a gun poking up from behind the back passenger seat in one car. He had only three shots left; plenty more bullets in his rucksack, but too risky here to start taking time out to reload.
Shame – he’d been hoping to hang on to that last grenade. Wasn’t going to be. Firing his gun at the person inside the car who was now trying to take aim at him, Parker then shucked off his rucksack, stuck his free hand inside and grabbed the small black egg-shaped object. He stabbed the appropriate button with the index finger of his right hand, fired his pistol again, and then as the grenade beeped on 2, he threw it.
The four men in the two cars – two in each vehicle – just had time to scream, as the grenade sailed in through the smashed back window of one car. And then first that vehicle, and then also immediately the second, exploded in a great ball of flame that caused Parker to hurriedly step back, away from the searing heat and the flying metal and glass.
Taking no chances, he reloaded his gun before resuming his never-ending walk, leaving the destruction and the burning building and vehicles behind him. His thoughts were numb. His body was numb. His trousers were torn and bloodstained but he was no longer limping. The sky was growing ever purpler. Soon, stars would start appearing.
Parker kept walking, the stench of fire and death strong in his nostrils.
He walked for over an hour. Left the once-prosperous neighborhood behind him and slowly entered into an industrial area full of factories and warehouses. Weeds grew high around one forklift truck left outside; a multitude of huge tyres stacked in another yard. Tall, chainmail fences with padlocked gates. Parker’s eyes never still as he walked – almost night time now – his ears alert for the slightest sound that would inform him he was in danger.
Then, he started as an amplified voice came suddenly from ahead –
‘Okay, come on, you lot. Over here, over here! That’s it. Hey, seen you before! Not recognizing you guys, though. You new round here? Oh, hey, Barney – sorry buddy, didn’t notice you standing there...’
Parker ducked behind one crumbling brick wall and pulled out his gun. The voice kept talking: male, friendly. Parker shook his head against the absurdity of what he was hearing, and briefly wondered whether he was just going mad.
Deciding that he still possessed some relative sense of sanity, he cautiously left the cover afforded by the wall and, crouching low, advanced closer towards where the voice was coming from. From round the corner of one warehouse, great rusting corrugated metal panels cladding its sides, he saw what was happening.
A mass of things – maybe fifty or more – were stood outside the chainmail exterior of another disused factory or warehouse some fifty yards away. They’d been attracted by the man standing in the warehouse yard, who was wearing a smart uniform (too dark to make out the actual color – blue?) and who had the appearance of being a security guard or something of the sort. He was certainly not a thing; something made even more obvious when he again put the loudhailer to his mouth and said –
‘I’ve drawn them here so you don’t have to worry, buddy. I seen you coming from some way away. Like the look of you, so I’m taking a chance. All you gotta do is to get around the back of this factory, and I’ll let you in. You’ll be safe...’
With a start, Parker realized that this man was talking to him. He slowly blew out his breath. Way too much had happened recently for him to be able to think clearly. And now this, a uniformed figure addressing first a group of things, and now Parker himself, via loudhailer...
Speaking theoretically, Parker supposed he was on the lookout for other survivors. Not hogs, obviously – he knew now that he was capable of killing as many of those as he was able to, whereas he only ever killed a thing when it was strictly necessary for the purpose of self-defence – but people like himself. Those who’d somehow proved immune to the virus, and who were now trying to survive on their own, or in a small group.
The problem was, there weren’t so many of these people around. Or else (as was more likely), they’d just got very adept at concealing themselves. Because of hogs, and such.
Once Parker had managed to meet someone, but...
That had proved to be just another fucking encounter with madness.
It hadn’t been long after Parker had finally got his act together and stopped getting drunk and crying. Cursing himself for his cowardice at having left Carrie. Now sobering up and wondering exactly how the hell he’d managed to survive so long in his previous condition. Scarcely caring whether he got attacked by a thing; easy meat for any gang of hogs who happened to be passing by...
He laid low for a while; found a nice apartment to hole up in that had lots of fancy canned stuff in the kitchen and a real comfortable bed. He didn’t know what had happened to the occupants but they weren’t here in any way, shape or form, at least.
And then, looking out of the bedroom window early one morning at the still-lightening sky, he saw her.
She was looking nervously all around her. Heading towards the stores that were a block or so away. Parker could hardly see her features clearly, but she looked to be somewhere in her thirties, with long black hair.
Quickly, Parker got dressed, left the apartment and hurried down the stairs. Afraid he’d lose her but soon seeing her again, as (with one final look around her, though not seeing Parker) she entered inside a supermarket.
Parker had considered shouting after her, but then realized that this would be an extremely foolish thing to do. Who knew what else was lurking in this neighborhood. No, he’d instead have to get closer to her. Just
hoped he wouldn’t scare her too much.
The large windows of the supermarket were smashed – no surprise there – and the floors covered with all manner of foodstuffs, from broken boxes of ice-cream cones to a number of shrivelled pineapples. But still there were some canned items to be found, missed by other scavengers, which was what Parker always went for. Canned fruit, veggies, meat and such. A perfectly balanced diet. At the apartment back where he was staying, there was even canned lobster.
Parker stood among the chaos inside the supermarket and wondered where the woman had got to. It was a little gloomy, but there was no sickly-sweet smell. Nothing that made him want to put his right hand in his inside jacket pocket and get a hold of his gun – for the moment.
Then he stiffened as something was pressed hard against the base of his spine.
‘Planning to rape me, were you?’ said a female voice from behind him. The same woman currently jabbing a gun into his back.
‘Now, wait just a – ’
‘You think I didn’t realize you were following me? I led you in here,’ said the woman. ‘You bastard – ’
‘Now hold on,’ said Parker, anger rising in his voice. ‘I don’t know what kind of other – people – you’ve met so far, but I ain’t gonna rape anyone. I’m just trying to get along, same as you. And yes, I was following you – but only because I wanted to talk to another human being, goddamn it.’
‘I –’ began the woman.
But Parker was too angry to stop now.
‘Turn me loose and I’ll walk right away and you’ll never see me again,’ he continued. ‘Or shoot me in the head and leave me here. To be truthful, if you did the second option you’d probably, ultimately, be doing me a favor. But don’t start poking guns in me and talking bullshit.’
