Dead Eyes: A Tale From The Zombie Plague

by Dwyer, James

  “I will,” I said.

  “How far away were you when you heard the radio message?” he asked.

  “Sector D3, the other side of Aylescombe.”

  Stone reflected on this for a moment. “Have any other survivors made it here?” I asked.

  “One or two. Not as many as there used to be.”

  “It’s getting more dangerous,” I said, “More Daisies.”

  “What?”

  “I mean the quick zombies. The ones that can sprint.”

  “Screamers,” said Maggie, her warm friendly expression disappearing as she remembered something horrible from her past.

  Stone quickly stood up and began walking toward the exit, “If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. I have to go prepare for the next airlift.”

  “When is it?”

  “Two days time,” he said, “You’ve arrived too late for this transport. If you work hard, you won’t be waiting long.”

  “I will,” I said.

  He smiled and walked away, followed by the unfamiliar faces. Maggie remained behind, waiting for the others to leave. There was something about her personality and demeanour that made her incredibly easy to like. “He is a good man Captain Stone. If he wanted to escape from here, he could do so in seconds. He chooses to be inside the infected zone.

  “He may not look like much of anything but he understands what you’ve been going through. More than he’ll ever let on. It’s the others you have to look out for. The airlifts are getting less frequent. There’s been talk of the military shooting them down to contain the infection. Anyone who jeopardises someone’s escape will not be tolerated.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “They’ll kill you to save themselves,” said Maggie, “Believe it.”

  Before I could consider Maggie’s warning any further, the door flap opened and an extremely thin bald man carrying a sports bag slung over one shoulder entered the tent. He eyed me up and down as he approached, ignoring Maggie. “Afternoon Doctor Morgan,” said Maggie.

  The doctor dropped the bag on the floor beside me, taking some rubber gloves from his pocket and putting them on. “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  “Still no news then?” asked Maggie.

  “No,” he said curtly, “Nothing.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” said Maggie.

  “You couldn’t possibly know that,” he said, “Leave us will you?”

  Maggie did as she was told. “I’ll speak to you later,” she said to me as she left.

  The doctor waited for her to leave before beginning his examination. “Undress down to your underwear.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “Be glad I’m not asking you to take off your underwear too. Not that I take much pleasure in viewing the male physical form. However in my experience, if a zombie had munched on your cock, you would be unable to hide it.”

  A little confused, I did as I was told, taking off my clothes, wincing with pain as I used my wounded hand. Morgan looked me up and down; probing at the many bruises covering my body. “How did these happen?” he asked of each one.

  I explained the many mishaps I had suffered, leaving out my passing out in Aylescombe and any mention of my blindness for now. “Any cuts or scratches, caused by the undead or otherwise?”

  “Just my hand.”

  Morgan grabbed my wrist and lifted my palm up to his eye level. “How did you do this?”

  “Broken glass.”

  “Yes,” said Morgan, “Any other injuries? In particular, zombie related injuries?”

  “Nope,” I said, “I keep a safe distance.”

  “Wise,” said Morgan, “How long have you been out there for?”

  “Since the start,” I said.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “You must know how to look after yourself then.”

  “I’m still here aren’t I?”

  Morgan took a stethoscope from the bag and placed it on my chest. I noticed his hands trembled slightly as he held it against my body. “Checking for a zombie heart?” I joked.

  The doctor was not amused. “Checking everything. I’ll need to take a blood sample too. Left or right arm?”

  “Right,” I said.

  The doctor took a tourniquet from the bag and tied it round my arm, just above the elbow. The way he tied the knot seemed unpractised. As if he was making it up as he went along.

  I watched as Morgan took a syringe from the bag and pointed it towards my arm. His hand shook once again, the needle moving shakily close to my skin. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine,” snapped Morgan, “Just have things on my mind.”

  His first attempt missed the vein, a sharp prick of pain as he stabbed my arm. I watched him take a deep breath before trying again. Mercifully he hit the mark this time. I wasn’t sure who was more relieved, him or me. I decided to try and stay in the doctor’s good books and so held my tongue. Who knew how much influence he held inside camp. Now was not the time to question his credentials.

  “All done,” said Morgan, brushing the pinprick on my arm with a cotton swab.

  “Thank you,” I said, holding the cotton against the needle mark with my hand, “When will you know the results?”

  “Soon,” he said, “You can join the rest of the camp if you like. I’m satisfied.”

  Morgan placed the blood sample in his bag, quickly gathering his things together. His hands were still shaking.

  “Can you do something to my hand? I think it needs stitches,” I said, showing him the cut palm once again.

  Morgan reached into his bag and chucked me a package of bandages. “Wrap it up yourself. I have other things to do.”

  I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. This was the camp doctor? There must have been a reason for his rudeness.

  “What you said to Maggie. Are you waiting on news from someone?”

  He nodded, a distracted sad look in his eyes. “Been waiting too long.”

  I thought about offering some empty condolences, remembered what Maggie had said and stopped myself. The doctor picked up his bag and left, leaving me alone in the tent. He wasn’t a real doctor, I knew that much. Still, there was no point in raising any problems just yet.

  I quickly dressed myself and made my way outside. The whole experience had been strange and I wanted to get out of this small tent to stretch my legs.

  ✖

  It was mid afternoon when I left the tent. I wasn’t sure of the exact time. My only hope was that the rest of the day’s formalities would be completed before sundown. If I wanted to keep my night blindness a secret, I would have to find an excuse to go to bed early.

  Lord knows what I would do if they gave me a night time role when it came to handing out the camp chores. I would be useless as a night watchman. Perhaps my time surviving on my own would mean that Captain Stone would give me a task with greater responsibility. I don’t think Maggie would have told him about my little breakdown. If it came down to it, I would volunteer for any role that kept attention off me. Even if it was a dangerous task. Anything to keep them from knowing I was going blind.

  The rest of Camp Churchill was a collection of green canvas tents, obviously ex military or from an army surplus store. It took me back to camping trips during my time in the cub scouts. “Be prepared”. The Cub Scout motto. Back then, I had no idea how useful those words would be.

  Most of the tents were a similar size to the examination tent I had been placed in. I noticed that the others were labelled alphabetically. Survivors stood at the entrance to the tents, chatting or smoking. These must be where the survivors slept.

  I was not surprised to see a wide variety of different ages, ethnicities and body types amongst the different survivors. There was no survivor model. No one type of person who survived better than another. It was a combination of luck and proactivity.

  “And ruthlessness,” my grandfather’s voice spoke
inside my mind. I hated how he seemed to linger just out of consciousness, waiting to provide his sick little input at an inopportune moment.

  In the past, I would have agreed with him. This time, I couldn’t. Camp Churchill was testament to cooperation and compassion. And it seemed to be working. “You must hate this,” I whispered quietly, “How everyone is doing so well without following your own twisted rules.”

  “It won’t last,” said my grandfather, “It never does.”

  His voice faded away, quicker than usual. Things really were looking up.

  Aside from the many smaller tents were two huge canopies that sat in the centre of the camp. Most of the activity was focused around them. I could see one was filled with chairs and a podium, what must have been the briefing area. The other had a large number of tables and chairs, the mess hall. I spotted Maggie standing outside the briefing area and she waved me over.

  “How was the check up?” she asked.

  “I passed,” I said, “Not sure what criteria the doctor was checking though. Has he been here long?”

  “A few months. Bit of a loner really. Haven’t seen him much until recently. The other doctor’s time came up and he left on the airlift. Didn’t want to stay behind, no matter how much Stone tried to convince him. Can’t blame him really. Morgan was the alternative. Emphasis on alternative.”

  “Yeah, I’ve never had a check up like that before.”

  “To be fair, he is suffering at the moment. A woman he had grown close to went out on a scavenging trip a few days ago. Haven’t heard from them since.”

  “Why hasn’t Stone sent out a search party?” I asked.

  “Because the trip was unsanctioned. We have everything we need here. They didn’t agree.”

  Maggie took one of my bags from me and led me toward Tent F. “You can stay in here. The number of survivors has dropped so there’s a bit more space. Each tent has room for ten. You’ll be sharing with another three.”

  She unzipped the tent and walked me inside. A small camp light hung from the ceiling, dimly illuminating the interior. Immediately my eyesight began to suffer, the tent around me becoming unfocused, like looking through frosted glass.

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  One of the blurs rose and walked towards me; offering out what I hoped was his hand. I shook it and smiled, trying to hide my distress. “The name’s Stevo. You’ll find us a welcoming bunch. We’re quiet, like to read. How does a peaceful tent sound?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, trying to remain upbeat.

  “You’ll fit right in. The other two Matthew and Patrick are out on guard duty. I’ll introduce you later.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Maggie waved at me to come over to one of the empty beds. “You can have this one. Dump your bags here for now, they will be safe. I would give you some time to relax but the captain will be calling a meeting soon. He wants to update us on the next airlift.”

  “Has he heard anything?” said Steveo, his voice full of hope, a subtle tinge of desperation beneath the surface.

  “I think so,” she said, “He’s not told anyone much since the last incident.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The airlift came and went without landing. Pilot said it was too risky. Stone was furious.”

  “Never seen him like that,” said Steveo.

  “It was certainly something. Anyway, leave your stuff here and we’ll go.”

  I looked over to the grey blur that was my bed and threw my bags in the direction. They missed, hitting the metal bed frame with a loud clang before falling to the floor. “Easy,” said Maggie.

  “Sorry. I’m very tired,” I said.

  “That’s alright,” said Maggie, “You can get some sleep after Stone’s meeting.”

  “What about my chores?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about that for now. Just relax and recover. If anyone gives you any grief, you tell them to speak with me.”

  I followed Maggie and Steveo out of the tent, being careful to follow their footsteps so as not to trip over anything. Once outside my eyesight returned to normal. I could only hope that Stone’s briefing would take place somewhere better illuminated.

  The other survivors in camp were all heading towards the big canopy with the briefing area. I quickly tried to count just how many survivors there were. At least sixty. It would be weeks before I could get a place on the airlift.

  I took a seat beside Maggie in the middle of the crowd. Thankfully the interior was well-lit, bright spotlights lighting up the area. Captain Stone stood on a small platform in front of the crowd. He did not look very happy. The crowd shifted uneasily in their seats before him, nerves increasing as they saw Stone’s agitated demeanour.

  “Is everyone here? I don’t want to have to say this again.”

  He waited for the crowd to settle before continuing. “You may have heard about the last rescue attempt and its failure. I have just spoken with the rescue team, those who fly the helicopters into the infected zone, and things are becoming difficult. The military are keeping a close eye on traffic in and out of the infested zone, monitoring the radar, investigating any anomalies. Any aircraft that fly below a certain height are being targeted and shot down. It seems that the risk of contamination is being treated very seriously, despite the cure that is available.”

  “Are we sure that the cure works?” said a voice from the crowd.

  “Yes,” said Stone, “I’ve seen it work. Why those in the safe zone haven’t started implementing it, I don’t know. Seems they are waiting for something.”

  “When did they help us before,” Maggie muttered to me under her breath.

  Stone took a deep breath, preparing to give some bad news. “The next airlift is taking place in two days time, with space for fifteen people. The bad news is, we have to enter the city of Highmouth to reach the extraction point.”

  “What?” said a voice I recognised as Al from the guard tower, “That’s suicide.”

  “They won’t land anywhere else,” said Stone, “If they go too low, the military will find out and shoot them down. They’ll only land if they can pick us up from Olympus Tower. The helipad on top is the only location they’ll consider. Any others are too far away.”

  “It’s not worth it,” said Al.

  “I’m not forcing anyone to go,” said Stone, “The option is there for those who want to take it. I am currently working out a plan of action for the extraction.”

  “Highmouth is infested. I was there at the start,” said Al, becoming visibly distressed.

  “I don’t like it either. This is our only option. We should be thankful we have one.”

  The crowd began to murmur amongst itself, voices of discontent and fear whispering through the mass of people. Stone stood uneasily on stage, searching for the words to say. “No one is being forced to leave. You are welcome to stay in camp for as long as you want. I will be the last one to leave. No matter what happens, I am here until the end. Until then, the population list will be used to work out whose going when.”

  “Population list?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Maggie, “Everyone who’s been here has their name on the board. You should put yours on.”

  “Everyone? Even those who have left?”

  Maggie nodded.

  Out of nowhere, I suddenly thought of Libby. Had she been here?

  “What about the scavenge team?”

  Doctor Morgan stood up amongst the crowd, making himself level with Stone. “What about them?”

  “We have no word,” said Stone.

  “So are you just going to give up on them?”

  “You know the rules. The scavengers made their choice to leave. We can’t risk resources to go searching for them just yet.”

  “Leaving them to die,” said Doctor Morgan.

  “You think I don’t know that?” said Stone, “I told them not to go, begged them. But they wouldn’t listen.”

  “Their
blood is on your hands.”

  “Enough!” said Stone, “Everyone is dismissed.”

  I stood up from my chair and made my way to the population board. It was covered in hundreds of names, survivors who were at the camp or left in some way or another. Some ominously crossed out in bright red ink.

  I searched for Libby’s name, cursing myself for not knowing her surname. It didn’t matter at the time. It mattered now.

  Reading the list, I could see a few Elizabeths, two Lizzies, and a Beth. No Libby. Maggie walked up beside me, Steveo following behind. “Searching for someone in particular?” she asked, concerned.

  “A woman called Libby. Long brown hair, my height. About my age. Recognise the name?”

  She shook her head. There was something in the gesture that made me think she was hiding something. “We don’t really waste time searching for others here,” said Steveo, “If they’re alive, they will make there way here.”

  “It’s not a waste of time,” I snapped.

  I had not meant to sound so angry. “Add your name to the board then get some rest. You need it,” said Maggie.

  She and Steveo walked away, leaving me to search the list of names alone.

  “Did you say you were searching for a Libby?”

  I turned and saw Doctor Morgan standing beside He looked across the names on the board and pointed to one. “Elizabeth Andrews. Libby.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “She went out with the scavenge team. Debbie was also with them.”

  “What happened?” I said, suddenly becoming agitated.

  “We just haven’t heard from them. I wasn’t allowed to leave camp because I’m the doctor. When we lost contact, I wanted to go looking for them. I’m just too inexperienced, I never would have survived by myself.”

  He paused and looked me in the eyes. “If I had help, I could find them.”

  “Where did they go?” I asked.