by Joe McKinney
‘You’re talking crap,’ Nick said.
‘Am I? Do you really think you’re supposed to survive all of this? There are some things that are bigger than us.’
‘Please don’t start talking about God and divine retribution and all that shite,’ John sighed. ‘I’ve given all of that up.’
Barry smiled and brushed away a stray wisp of long, blond hair. ‘That’s not what I’m talking about at all. What I’m saying is that whatever happened here was the twenty-first century equivalent of the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs.’
‘Now you’ve really lost me,’ Paul said.
‘This is our ice-age. This is our apocalypse. This is the end. We should just accept it and let nature take its course.’ Barry’s comments were met with silence. ‘Our problem is we’ve all fallen foul of the programme. We think we’re so bloody superior and we think the planet can’t go on without us. It’s part and parcel of the human condition. Truth is the world’s going to thrive without us here to keep screwing it up.’
‘The human condition?’ Nick said. ‘What the hell are you on about?’
‘I can’t think of a better way to put it. I was looking out of the window last night, watching birds flying from building to building…’
‘Fucking hell,’ Paul said, ‘he’s really lost it. I’ve long had my doubts about him but I think he’s finally lost it.’
‘I was watching the birds,’ Barry continued, ignoring him, ‘and I started thinking about the difference between us and the animals. Seems to me there’s one huge difference that doesn’t often get talked about.’ He paused to give the others opportunity to make a cheap joke or to hit him with another insult but, unusually, they didn’t. ‘The difference is we know that we’re eventually going to die and they don’t. Animals strut about the place thinking they’re going to go on forever, we spend our lives worrying about how they’re going to end. That’s what I mean when I talk about the human condition. We’re too busy thinking about death to enjoy life.’
There followed an unusually long moment of quiet contemplation and reflection which was only disturbed when John remembered the bodies on the stairs. ‘That’s all well and good,’ he said anxiously, ‘but what are you going to do now? Are you going to wait for the bodies to get in here, or are you going to kill yourself and get it over with?’
‘Neither.’
‘What then?’
‘I’m going to sit in here and relax, and what will be will be. I’m going to try and slow the bodies down, then let nature take its course.’
‘Are you high? How are you going to slow them down?’
‘Well we’ve already established that they’ll keep moving forward until they can’t go any further, so instead of letting them stop here on this floor where we are, let’s help them keep going.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Channel them up onto the roof.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s it. What they do up there is their business. If they stay true to form they’ll follow each other up, one after another, until there’s no room left. Then they’ll either come back down, which I doubt, or they’ll end up pushing each other over the edge.’
‘Brilliant,’ Paul said, grinning with genuine enthusiasm. ‘That’s absolutely fucking brilliant!’
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A man in a dress was suggesting they spend their last few days on Earth sitting in a luxury hotel suite watching three week old corpses falling off the roof.
‘It’s got to be worth a go, hasn’t it?’ Barry said.
‘Okay,’ Paul agreed, surprising even himself. ‘Let’s do it.’
#
The roof of the building was accessed via a final narrow flight of steps. With the bodies continuing to make unsteady progress towards them, Paul and Barry crept up towards the door that would lead them outside.
‘It’s locked,’ Barry grunted.
‘Don’t you have the key? You’ve got keys to everywhere else.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Smash it open then.’
‘What about the noise?’ he instinctively asked. Paul looked down the staircase behind them, back into the heart of the building. Even from here he could see the constant movement of the dead.
‘Bit late to worry about that.’
With limited space to manoeuvre his coiffured bulk, Barry held onto a handrail, swung back, then crashed his shoulder against the door. It rattled in its frame but didn’t open. Another couple of attempts were equally unsuccessful.
‘Let me,’ Paul said, pushing Barry to one side. ‘You’re not wearing the right shoes for breaking and entering.’
He launched a barrage of well aimed kicks at the lock. The wood began to splinter and crack. Another few heavy blows and it flew open, allowing the two men to scramble out onto the roof. A phenomenal wind threatened to knock them off their feet.
‘Jesus,’ Paul said, having to shout to make himself heard, almost enjoying the volume of his voice. ‘Bit blustery.’
Barry didn’t answer. He was busy trying to wedge the door open. For the bodies to be able to keep moving forward, the way out onto the roof would need to remain unobstructed. Paul picked up a strip of metal lying on the asphalt and used it as a prop.
‘That’ll do,’ Barry said. ‘Let’s get back inside.’
The two men clattered back down the staircase towards the Presidential Suite. Paul stopped and stared at the bodies still coming towards them. Was it his imagination, or were they moving slightly faster now? He tried to think logically as the distance between the living and the dead rapidly evaporated. Previously the bodies had been driven forward by the pressure of others pushing them from behind, but now those corpses furthest up the stairs knew there were survivors above them. Rather than wait to be pushed forward, those at the front were now moving under their own steam.
‘They’re getting faster,’ Paul said quietly. ‘I think we should—’ He stopped speaking instantly when one of the bodies looked up at him. Was he imagining it? No, now Barry had seen it too. The foul creatures were actually looking at them…
‘Move,’ Barry said, and Paul didn’t argue.
‘Done it?’ John asked as they burst back through the main doors together.
‘Sort of,’ Barry said.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘We might have a problem…’
‘What’s the matter?’ Doreen asked, concerned.
Paul was still by the open doors, looking back down the corridor. The first bodies appeared on the landing. Elizabeth covered her mouth in horror and stifled a scream. John scrambled away from the open door as Paul slammed it shut.
‘Fuck me,’ said Nick.
‘They saw us,’ Paul said, sounding almost embarrassed. ‘They know we’re here now.’
‘Did you open the door to the roof?’ Doreen asked.
‘Yes, but…’ Barry began to say.
‘You pair of bloody idiots,’ she screamed at them both.
‘Be quiet, Doreen,’ John pleaded from behind the sofa. ‘Please, Doreen, don’t let them hear you.’
‘Bit late for that,’ she said. She looked around and saw she was the only one still out in the open. ‘So is that it? All that noise and effort and that’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?’
Barry tried to respond but he couldn’t coordinate his brain and mouth enough to make it happen.
‘What else can we do?’ Paul shouted. ‘We’re completely screwed.’
‘Pathetic,’ Doreen said. ‘Absolutely bloody pathetic. If you think I’m going to sit here and wait for those damn things to have their way with me, then you’re very much mistaken. I’m a woman with standards. I’ve still got my pride.’
More interested in the relentless approach of the dead than the prattling of a nervous old woman, no one paid her any attention. Infuriated by their lack of response, Doreen took it upon herself to take action.
‘You’re bloody usele
ss, the lot of you,’ she said. ‘Wish I’d never got mixed up with your little gang. Enjoy your little party or whatever it is you’re planning…’
She was tired and she’d really had enough. Wiser and more shrewd than any of them gave her credit for, she’d listened to everything that Barry had said and she’d found herself agreeing with him. Death was inevitable, and she didn’t have the energy or the desire to go on running. She opened the door again, stepped outside, then slammed it shut. With a total lack of nerves she walked into the bodies and pushed her way through them. Although their numbers were imposing, they were individually weak and even with her bad back and countless other ailments, getting through them was easy. They swung their rotting fists at her and tried to grab at her with gnarled, talon-like hands but she was as wiry and thin as they were and she slipped past, weaving between them with the sudden grace and subtlety of a woman whose various disorders and complaints were ten per cent physical and ninety per cent attention seeking bullshit. She pushed deeper into the throng until she reached the foot of the final staircase. She then gave a loud whistle and threw herself up the last few steps and out onto the roof. Distracted by Doreen’s sudden speed, noise and movement, many of the bodies turned away from the door to the Presidential Suite and began to follow her.
Bloody hell it was cold outside. Doreen wrapped her cardigan tight around her willowy body and braced herself against the wind. Now what did she do? She hadn’t quite thought this through. She knew what she was doing, but now that she was standing unprotected out on the roof, the consequences of her actions really began to hit home. This was it. No more running or hiding or sleeping on the floor. No more fear or confusion or disorientation. No more arguments or fights. It was finally time for a long overdue rest. It felt good, actually.
Doreen walked to the edge of the roof and peered down.
Bloody hell, it’s higher than I thought. That was probably a good thing, she decided. Although she was only a few feet higher there than she’d been in the suite just below, the difference was stark. Perhaps it was because the protection of glass and concrete had gone. Perhaps it was because now there was nothing left between her and the rest of the world.
She looked back as the first few bodies staggered out onto the roof.
This is it then, time to do it.
She’d been toying with the idea of suicide for a few days – a few weeks if she was completely honest – but she’d always clung onto the slim hope that things would somehow get better. Like Barry had said, she just kept trying to survive. Suicide had always seemed to be the coward’s way out before today, but after listening to him earlier she’d come to realise that this was far from a cowardly act. Her fate was sealed, whatever she did, but by ending her life this way she’d hold onto some dignity and control. This choice was all she had left. And she might even help those miserable bastards in the Presidential Suite in the process.
She climbed up onto the low concrete wall which ran around the perimeter of the building. The wind seemed to blow even stronger as she gingerly stood upright. She held out her arms like a tightrope walker, struggling to keep her balance.
Bloody hell, I can’t do this. I can’t go through with it.
She looked down to the street many hundreds of feet below. Save for the occasional body staggering by, the pavement on this side of the hotel was relatively clear. Her mind began to fill with stupid questions: was it going to hurt? Would it definitely kill her or might she survive and end up lying helpless on the ground with her arms and legs broken as the dead swarmed over and around her? She thought about the old adage she’d heard countless times before – it’s not the jump off the top of the building that kills you, it’s hitting the ground that does it – and she managed half a smile. Would she feel anything? What would the fall be like? Would she know when she’d hit the ground or would it all be over before then…?
Doreen looked around and watched more bodies piling out onto the roof. They hadn’t noticed her yet. They wandered around aimlessly like the empty, soulless vessels they were. She turned her back on them again and looked forward across the town, knowing there was no going back now. Even if she changed her mind, she couldn’t get back inside.
Do I do it now or wait for them to get closer to me? Do I wait until the last possible second? Is it worth clinging onto a few more seconds of life? What good will it do? Do I want to stand here, freezing cold and terrified, trying to keep my balance and not think about those bloody things behind me, or do I just let it happen? Think about finally being able to stop and rest. Think about not having to run and hide…
Doreen closed her eyes, tipped forward and let gravity take over.
#
‘Well?’ Elizabeth asked, sobbing. Barry peered out onto the landing through the spy-hole in the door.
‘Not good. There are too many of them. They know we’re in here now.’
Elizabeth began to cry uncontrollably. John tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away.
‘So what do we do now?’ Nick asked, sounding nothing like the confident, cocksure man who’d first arrived at the hotel.
‘Can’t see that anything’s changed,’ Barry answered, his face still pressed against the hole in the door. ‘We’re still in here, they’re still out there. If you were thinking about running, now’s your last chance.’
‘I’m going,’ Paul said, already edging closer to the fire escape door. ‘I’m not sitting here waiting for them to get in. Fuck that. I’m getting out of here…’
‘And me,’ Nick said.
Barry looked across at John and Elizabeth. They both began to edge closer to the two men waiting by the fire escape. ‘Come on, Barry,’ she said, almost pleading with him. ‘Don’t stay here. It’s suicide.’
‘You don’t have to keep fighting, you know. That’s the difference between us in here and those things out there. You can stop and switch off if you want to. They’ll just keep going until there’s nothing left of them.’
‘Come on, Barry,’ John said.
‘Nah,’ he replied, smoothing a wrinkle in his skirt. ‘I think I’ve had enough.’
The four remaining survivors disappeared through the fire escape door and began their dark descent down towards the ground floor.
The hotel suite was suddenly quiet, save for the thumping coming from the mass of decomposing bodies on the other side of the main door. More importantly, Barry’s space was his again. His and his alone. Just how he’d wanted it.
He knew he didn’t have long. He tearfully walked around the vast suite, collecting together his things. He salvaged everything he could from the little that was left and packed it all against the wall of the master bedroom. Another noise from outside distracted him, and he peered through the spy-hole and saw that the corridor was now a solid mass of flesh. It wouldn’t be long before they broke through. He wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, taking care not to smudge his make-up, then took one long, final look around the suite which had been his home for the last few weeks of his life. He took a moment to walk around and look out of each of the windows in turn, staring at the remains of the city where he’d lived and remembering… The memories were harder to deal with than the thought of what was to come. It surprised him how much it still hurt to think about all he’d lost. The little he had left to lose didn’t seem to matter so much now.
With the door rattling and shaking in its frame as more and more of the damn things threw themselves against it, Barry slipped quietly into the master bedroom. Once inside he shoved the bed across the entrance to the room and wedged it into position with other furniture and belongings. If he’d had a hammer and nails, he thought, he would have nailed it shut. I really didn’t matter. That door wouldn’t be opening again.
Barry Bushell, tears streaming down his cheeks, selected another outfit from his wardrobe and changed. Finally feeling presentable, he lay down on the bed and picked up a book. With his hands shaking so badly that he could hardly read, he lay ther
e and waited.
#
‘Keep moving,’ Elizabeth yelled, slamming her hands into the middle of Nick’s back, sending him tripping down the last few stairs to the ground floor. He grabbed hold of the handrail to stop himself falling.
‘What now?’ John asked, still a little further back. They’d finally reached the bottom. It was another of his pointless questions, pointless this time because they didn’t have any choice. Nick teased the door open then quickly closed it again.
‘Well?’ Elizabeth asked hopefully.
‘Not as bad as I thought,’ he replied. ‘There are hundreds of the fuckers, but I was expecting more. We’ll probably make it through if we’re fast and we keep moving.’
Paul shoved Nick out of the way and peered around the side of the door. He pulled his head back in and composed himself.
‘This is it then. Time to say goodbye. I’d like to say I’d had fun, but I’d be lying.’
‘Goodbye?’ Elizabeth said, surprised.
‘We’ll stand more of a chance if we split up.’
‘You reckon?’
Paul shrugged his shoulders. ‘Who knows. Anyway, see you. Good luck.’ He took a deep breath, opened the door again, then slipped out into what was left of the hotel reception.
It was surprisingly bright after the enclosed gloom of the fire escape and the air, although still heavy with the stench of death and decay, was somehow fresher. Several of the nearest bodies noticed his sudden appearance and immediately turned towards him. Paul, terrified, but pumped full of adrenalin, ran, pausing only to stare in utter disbelief at the main staircase of the hotel which was a solid column of still climbing flesh, almost like a single grotesque organism.
He skipped and weaved through the lifeless corpses which even now fought to get into the rubble-strewn hotel ruin, then he burst out onto the street. The dead were fewer in number out here, but he knew they’d be upon him soon. Not knowing where he was going or why, he just ran.
#
‘Bastard,’ Nick sobbed as bodies began to slam against the other side of the fire escape door. ‘That bloody bastard, he’s let them know exactly where we are.’
