by David Moody
‘Got it,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’m going to drive the wrong way down the ring road. That should get us back home.’
A couple of hundred meters further and they reached a large traffic island and flyover littered with bodies and with the twisted wrecks of crashed cars, buses and other vehicles. He managed to weave a path through the remains. With less control but considerably more power, the two trucks behind smashed their way through after them.
41
‘They’re coming!’ shouted one of the survivors from a lookout position on the third floor of the university accommodation block. The building was otherwise quiet and the disembodied voice of the lookout quickly travelled down empty corridors and into the various room where the rest of the survivors sat and waited. Donna and Keith Peterson were the first to react. They jumped up from where they had been waiting anxiously in the assembly hall and sprinted quickly through the complex. They headed over to a balcony on the side of the building which overlooked the enclosed football pitch that they had earlier agreed to use as a temporary lock-up for their vehicles until they were ready to leave the city.
Donna pushed her way out through double-fronted glass doors and leant precariously over the edge of the balcony, craning her neck to try and catch sight of the returning survivors while, at the same time, doing her best to ignore the nauseous vertigo and fear she felt hanging a hundred feet above the crowds of corpses. She could hear some kind of transport approaching but the disorientating silence of the world made it impossible for her to be able to tell how far away they were and in which direction they were travelling. There were relatively few bodies on the ground below the balcony - perhaps only a hundred or so -
and Donna also thought that their numbers appeared to have reduced somewhat around the part of the front of the building that she could see. The noise and distractions caused by the survivors being in another part of the city had temporarily tempted a large proportion of the immense crowd of figures away from the university. It was obvious, however, that the return of the six men would inevitably also result in the return of massive swarms of the decaying corpses.
‘I can see them,’ Keith Peterson said. He had climbed up onto the metal safety barrier surrounding the balcony and was holding onto the door they had just come through for support.
‘Are they all there?’ Donna asked anxiously.
‘Can’t tell,’ Peterson replied. ‘There are at least three of them. I can see a van and two trucks.’
The blood-splattered convoy slowly pulled into view, the white fronts of the van and the trucks having been soaked with the gore and dripping remains of a thousand collisions with a thousand rotting bodies. Inside the lead van Phil Croft steered towards the welcome sight of the university buildings with Cooper at his side still trying to peer through the mayhem of countless random figures, trying to locate the track which would take them off the main road and deeper into the centre of the complex. Ignorant to the danger of the huge and powerful machines, the pathetic corpses continued relentlessly to gravitate around the vehicles.
Croft took a sudden sharp left. He recognised the narrow road. He knew that it would take them all the way around the back of the building and allow them full access to the rest of the site. He glanced up into the rear view mirror and, amongst the confusion, watched as first one and then both trucks turned and followed him away from the main road.
‘Not far now,’ he said quietly. Cooper didn’t respond. Instead he turned around on his seat and stared up at the accommodation block which they were slowly passing. He was looking for the other survivors, wanting to be sure that they knew they had returned. He saw Donna and Peterson first, and then noticed other faces peering out from different windows on different levels.
The group still hadn’t been able to make any definite plans or work out the precise details of the afternoon’s risky excursion out into the open. Their main aims had quickly been identified and agreed upon. The more practical points, however, had been knowingly overlooked. Where was the sense in trying to iron out fine details, they had decided, when no-one knew whether or not their main objectives were going to be achieved? Now that the men had succeeded in getting transport, the intentional shortfalls in their planning were unnerving and daunting.
‘So what do we do now?’ asked Croft as they drove towards the wire-mesh enclosed football pitch. They could already see that the gate was closed. To get out and open it would be taking a huge risk and to smash through would open the entire area up to the wandering bodies.
‘Just keep moving,’ answered Cooper, swinging himself around and sitting back down. ‘We’re going to have to drive through the gate.’
‘But we’ll…’ Croft began to protest.
‘Go through, reverse up and we’ll use the van to block off the entrance once the others are through.’
‘So how are we going to get back inside if we’re going to block the fucking exit?’
Cooper shook his head, resigned and irritated by the doctor’s obvious nerves.
‘We’re not going to be able to do anything for some time,’ he explained, holding onto the sides of his seat as the van bumped and rocked as it ploughed through still more bodies. ‘The noise we’re making is going to bring thousands of these bloody things here.’
‘We could make a run for it.’
‘We could, but I think we should sit tight and wait for a while. Doesn’t matter if we don’t get back inside for a couple of hours. Hopefully there will be fewer of them around by then.’
Cooper braced himself as Croft accelerated towards the metal gate blocking the entrance to the football pitch. Steve Armitage watched from the larger of the two trucks following close behind.
‘If he can’t do it,’ the lorry driver grunted, ‘then I’ll get through it with this thing.’
‘You’ll take half the bloody fence with you,’snapped Bernard Heath sitting next to him. As they had neared the university so Heath’s nervousness and apprehension had increased considerably. He knew the time was coming for them to risk leaving their shelter.
The four men following watched as the police van careered into the gate. The force of the impact was enough to twist and smash it out of shape, leaving the buckled metal barrier hanging half-open, held in place by one stubborn hinge. Croft reversed a few meters back and then drove forward again, forcing the remains of the gate to one side and driving onto the football pitch. Suddenly free and able to move without obstruction, the doctor turned the van around in a large circle. He watched with nervous fascination as the bodies began to arrive. The diseased shells collided with the rattling wire-mesh barrier around the entire perimeter of the football pitch.
‘This is going to be tight,’ Armitage muttered as he lined up the truck and drove through the space where the metal gate had been. An experienced driver, the sides of his vehicle missed the fence by little more than a few centimeters on either side.
Seeing that the first truck had entered the football pitch unscathed gave Paul Castle a false faith in his own abilities. He forced the smaller truck forward and winced as the passenger side scraped along the gatepost.
As soon as the last of the three vehicles was safe within the confines of the metal fence Croft parked the van across the width of the entrance, blocking access to the football pitch for the hundreds of staggering cadavers which dragged themselves towards the survivors. Steve Armitage parked his vehicle in the middle of the pitch. After obliterating three bodies which had managed to squeeze onto the playing field in the short time between the last vehicle entering and Croft closing the gap, Paul Castle did the same.
‘Get out of sight,’ Cooper ordered as he ran from the van towards the larger of the two trucks. ‘Get in the back of this one.’
All around the football pitch bodies continued to collide noisily and clumsily with the fence. Where between ten and twenty had stood moments before, now hundreds of ragged, bedraggled figures stood and smashed their rotting hands against the barrier, grabbing and
shaking the wire-mesh and trying hopelessly to get at the survivors inside.
Needing no further encouragement, the five other men followed Cooper into the back of the truck. Taking care not to fully shut the heavy, security locked door, the soldier collapsed down onto a nearby metal bench.
‘Did it,’ he said quietly. The military authority and direction previously so clear in his voice had suddenly been dropped and had been replaced with obvious relief. The other tired faces around him looked similarly relieved.
‘So what do we do now?’ Jack Baxter asked. ‘Looks like we’re stuck out here for a while.’
‘Let’s just take it easy,’ the soldier replied. ‘Nothing else to do but sit and wait.’
42
Michael Collins sat anxiously behind the wheel of the motorhome with Emma at his side. They had been stopped in this location for almost six hours, neither of them daring to move for fear that they might miss the return of the soldiers they’d seen leaving earlier this morning. The wait was becoming unbearable. Michael was beginning to wonder whether they were going to come back. Anything could have happened to the scouting party.
The motorhome was parked in a field adjacent to the track they’d discovered. By nestling the large and cumbersome vehicle on the other side of a grey-stone wall and underneath heavy tree cover they had camouflaged themselves to an extent and their relative invisibility was reassuring. The otherwise bright day had been interrupted by an unexpected shower of rain a short while earlier and drops of water still fell steadily from the overhanging trees, clattering down onto the metal roof and providing an eerie soundtrack to the afternoon. Apart from those few random sounds the world was quiet and deceptively peaceful.
‘Want something to drink?’ Emma asked.
Michael shook his head.
‘No thanks,’ he replied abruptly. His stomach was churning with nerves and uncertainty.
For what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour he turned and looked over his shoulder, peering back down the track in the direction in which the soldiers had disappeared earlier. He stared into the distance, hoping that he would soon see movement but, at the same time, also strangely relieved that nothing seemed to be happening.
Emma slid across the front seats and put her hand around his shoulder. He didn’t respond. She leant over and kissed the side of his cheek. Still no response. He wasn’t ignoring her, he simply had far too much on his mind for him to be able to react towards her in the way he normally would have done. If he was honest with himself he wanted nothing more than to be open and unrestrained and tell her exactly how much she meant to him, but now wasn’t the time. They had been out in the open for too long.
They needed something which resembled stability and order back in their lives before they could move on. The bottom line was that they both needed more than they presently had, and Michael hoped and prayed that the soldiers they had seen would bring them the relative security and comfort they desired.
‘I hate it when you’re this quiet,’ Emma said, her face still close to his. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m okay,’ he replied, subdued. Much as he wanted her close, he also wished she’d leave him alone to think.
‘What we need to do,’ she continued, ‘is find…’
‘Shh…’ he snapped, interrupting.
‘What?’
‘Listen.’
Emma did as she was told. She pushed herself away from Michael and sat on the edge of her seat and listened carefully.
She could hear the sound of an engine approaching.
‘This is it,’ said Michael as he turned the key in the ignition, causing the cumbersome motorhome’s engine to rumble into life.
He sat motionless in his seat and watched the road behind through the large wing mirror to his side. Although the stone wall obscured much of his view he was able to see the point where the track snaked away into the distance and disappeared.
The soldiers in their transport eventually appeared over the brow of a low hill, their vehicle’s bright headlights burning brilliantly in the gloom of the late afternoon. He watched as they drove closer and closer until his line of vision was blocked by the wall.
A few seconds later and he saw them pass, the dark green roof of the transport just visible over the top of the grey stones. He began to cautiously nudge the motorhome forward.
‘Don’t follow too close behind,’ Emma said nervously. ‘They don’t know who we are. They might turn on us and…’
Michael wasn’t listening. He inched out of the field, driving just far enough forward to enable him to see the transport working its way down the track. When it was almost out of sight he accelerated.
Travelling without his headlamps on (hoping to avoid being noticed) Michael followed the bright brake lights of the vehicle in front. Keeping a sensible distance between them the survivors watched as the transport drove around to the right and then to the left. Two hundred meters further down and the track narrowed and became even more rough and uneven. The sides of the road became steep banks, leaving Michael with no option but to keep moving forward and temporarily blocking their view of the soldiers ahead. The motorhome was not made for travelling over such harsh terrain. One of the front wheels sank down into a muddy pothole causing the vehicle to lurch to one side and its chassis to scrape along the ground momentarily.
‘Christ,’ Emma moaned. ‘This isn’t a good idea. As soon as we can we should get off this track and…’
‘We’re fine,’ Michael snapped, annoyed and trying hard to concentrate. ‘It doesn’t matter what happens to this thing. It’s not like we’ve got garage bills to pay or anything. As soon as we find where these soldiers are hiding out we can clear our stuff out and ditch it.’
‘I know but we don’t know how far away they are…’
Emma let her words trail away. The banks on either side of the track quickly dropped down again as they drove through an area of woodland. Brittle branched trees suddenly surrounded the motorhome and the military transport ahead, reducing still further the already low light levels. The track curved and twisted in apparently random and unexpected directions. Still not prepared to use his headlamps, Michael was forced to slow down to almost walking pace.
A random body smashed against the side of the motorhome.
‘Jesus Christ,’ cursed Emma as she stared at the figure in the side mirror. She watched as, in silhouette, it turned and stumbled after them.
The transport disappeared from view momentarily. With relief Michael caught sight of it again as they emerged from the small forested area. He steered through a narrow gateway and over a cattle-grid which shook and rattled the struggling machine. Once through the gate they were suddenly free to travel across an otherwise empty and featureless field. In the near distance the transport began to slow down. Michael gently eased off the accelerator as he began to catch up with the vehicle in front.
‘But there’s nothing here… he whispered.
‘There’s got to be.’
The powerful military machine stopped. Concerned, Michael stopped too.
‘Shit,’ he cursed. ‘They’ve seen us. They must have seen us.’
His heart began to pound in his chest as he stared at the motionless grey-green machine just ahead. His concentration was so intense that he failed to notice the three bodies which dragged themselves across the empty field and moved towards them. When he did finally catch sight of them he paid them little attention. They didn’t matter.
‘What’s going on?’ Emma asked, cold with nerves and afraid.
‘Don’t know. I think they might have……’
Without warning the transport began to move again. With a sudden loud roar and a belch of dirty grey exhaust fumes it began to power forward with unexpected speed and force. It drove up and over a grassy ridge that had been unnoticeable in the low light, and then disappeared down a steep incline and out of sight.
‘That’s it,’ Michael said, forcing the motorhome forward again
. ‘That’s got to be it.’
He approached the ridge with dangerous speed and mounting trepidation. Both of the survivors knew the importance of the moment.
‘Careful,’ Emma hissed as the motorhome dipped to one side as one of the back wheels clattered through another deep pothole.
Michael didn’t respond, fixing his concentration on following the soldiers instead. Not knowing what was on the other side of the ridge he accelerated hard again. With his heart in his mouth he pushed himself back in his seat as the front of their vehicle climbed up momentarily before dropping down into the darkness like a stomach-churning fairground ride. At first all he could see were the lights of the soldier’s vehicle. Seconds later they had gone, swallowed up by something unseen in the blackness.
‘Where did they go?’ asked Emma.
‘How the hell should I know?’ Michael shouted in reply. The velocity of the motorhome increased as they sped down the incline. He fumbled with the switches at the side of the steering wheel, trying desperately to turn on the lights whilst maintaining control of the vehicle. Seconds later and the ground levelled out.
The front of the motorhome began to smash into shadowy shapes in the increasing darkness. Michael found the lights and switched them on.
There was no sign of the military transport. There was no visible sign of the base. For as far as they could see the field they found themselves driving through was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of bodies.
Terrified and not able to see an obvious way out of the field, Michael immediately slammed on the brakes, switched the lights off again and silenced the engine. He looked out over a sea of rotting heads, desperately hoping to catch sight of something man-made amongst the decaying flesh. There was nothing. As the nearest creatures began to smash their rotting fists against the sides of the motorhome he instinctively grabbed hold of Emma’s hand and dragged her into the back of the vehicle. Pulling a blanket off the bed to cover them both he threw her down into a small space between the bed and the table - a place where they’d hidden numerous times before. He held her tightly and pulled the blanket over their heads as the deafening noise increased.
