by Al K. Line
"I'm okay, I need to tell this." He sipped his nettle wine absently, forgetting just how bad it actually was.
"So, I didn't know what to do. The shotgun was right by this loon, and I really didn't want to mess with him. I kind of got the feeling that if he saw me I was as good as dead. I tried to sneak away as quietly as I could, there was nothing to be done for the woman. The fucking kid must have smelled me I'm sure, he was up and after me in a second. I grabbed the barn door and ran inside. The chickens went mad, I was running for my life, this kid was after me, and he was fast, I mean really damn fast. All I could think of was that I didn't want to die in a damn chicken barn, and grabbed the nearest thing that I could find. A pitchfork, hanging on the barn wall for clearing the straw I guess. Just as I turned the kid was on me, he ran straight into it, like he didn't give a shit or just didn't know it would hurt. He just kept on coming, I had it at arms length and he was snapping and gnashing, face all puffed up and weirdly green, these massive veins bulging and his eyes rabid red and totally insane."
"So, he didn't die? He was a zombie?" asked Kyle.
"No, he died all right, it just took a lot longer than it should have. The bugger hardly bled though, and he didn't go nicely, not nicely at all."
Mike was not telling the whole truth here, he was leaving out a few things. The boy died, it did take longer than it should have though, and Mike was so damn freaked that he stabbed the boy repeatedly in the face and neck after pushing back on the pitchfork so the boy fell to the ground. Adrenaline had taken over, along with the fear that the kid would jump up and come after him again. Nothing to do with zombies, he just wanted to make sure the boy was dead, and didn't have too many qualms about ruining a face that was already far from what you would call a nice rosy cheeked farm boy anymore.
"After I calmed down a little I went back out of the barn, and I can tell you that I was just a little bit on edge," he said, which was the understatement of the year. "I grabbed the shotgun. I was going to just leave, but thought I should check the house, just in case. I wish I hadn't. Inside was a girl of about fourteen, she would have been a real looker once. Not now, she had this weird kind of smile on her face, like totally blissful and drugged up. And her belly was huge. You couldn't miss it, massive like she was pumped up with air. She had shit all down her legs, obviously not able to control it. You could see her dress was soaked through. Blood, piss, gore and God knows what else. But that wasn't the worst, next to her was this old farmer dude, the husband of the woman outside I guess. He was dead, and his guts were half gone, bits hanging out of the girl's mouth, over her breasts, just hanging there, she was out of it, obviously too full to even move. I left, and that's what happened."
It was an all too familiar story for Ven and Kyle, and that look of contentment from eating flesh and brains was something that would stay with all three of them until the end of their days.
"So, the shotgun," asked Ven. "Empty?"
"Empty," agreed Mike.
Not that it mattered anymore, they were going to have to stay together if they wanted to try to survive, they all began to realize this.
"So, where's the chicken then?" asked Kyle, trying to break the mood.
There wasn't any.
Time to Move
Yurts are made of canvas. Not ideal if you are trying to stave off an attack of mindless zombies, or even just a nosy neighbor. Mike's experience, and the realization that the infected were still a problem even in wet Wales, meant that everyone agreed they needed to get to someplace a little more solid. Preferably something very brick-like and not rip-openable.
They debated the best course of action, considering not just what they should do now, but what the future would hold too. No-one could think far ahead, immediate concerns were more pressing. They needed to find somewhere secure. Primarily they needed to find a place where baby Tomas could be kept warm and safe — where he could be looked after properly. Mike didn't think the farmhouse where he had his experience was a good idea, it was a long drive and if he was honest he simply didn't want to have to deal with the bodies in the living room either. Plus the place was a little cramped for the group, and with a serious lack of exits if the need arose. Thinking of places in the more immediate vicinity Cassie actually came up with the best idea, why not hole up at the converted barn just a few miles away?
There had been a major uproar over the whole process of barn conversions for a long time now. They had been systematically bought up for years all across Wales, then been converted into quite luxurious second homes by the relatively well off. Often people who lived and worked in major cities like London, and hardly ever local people. It was a topic of hot debate and had led to many a barn being either burned to the ground or projects being left abandoned. Over time such extreme actions had dwindled, but it still rankled with a lot of locals that they could no longer afford to live in the areas they had grown up in. Many small villages became little more than ghost towns for much of the year, visited infrequently by the owners apart from at holiday times and the odd weekend.
The old Jones farm was ideal. Unless they were very unlucky then it would be empty. This time of year the owners would be at their main residence, or more than likely they would have been until they either got eaten or one of them ate the other.
After a brief discussion it was decided, the barn conversion would be perfect. Cassie and Mike had seen it both before and after the modernization so they knew it would be spacious and everyone could spread out and get some degree of privacy. Better yet was the distinct advantage that it was on a half acre plot, surrounded by nothing but fields. With a private drive up to the barn, it meant that along with a quite high degree of privacy there were mostly open views in case they came under any kind of attack.
None of them had been anywhere near a built up area since the infection took hold — they were as yet blissfully unaware of just how lucky they had it. In inner cities, towns and villages those that could were already trying to escape to the countryside as built up areas were nothing but a bloodbath. The stench of fear, along with the acrid smell of burning buildings and bodies clogged the air, adding to the nightmare.
Rural areas fared a lot better. There was still death and destruction, but not the chaos of snarled traffic and once normal people running rampant through city centers, trying to consume their fellow man or run for their lives, only to end up bereft of much of their innards.
"Where's the guns?" Cassie whispered to Mike, as they were loading up the Land Rover.
"Guns?"
"From the people you chased off, the ones you... um, threatened," said Cassie. Remembering how Mike had described his form of threat.
"In the river, Cass, I didn't keep them. You know how I feel about those kind of things." Mike was seriously regretting the decision.
"Shame," said Cassie. She really wished now that Mike had kept them. Not that she knew how to shoot, but she kind of suspected Mike would be pretty good with all manner of weapons. "Don't suppose they would still work would they?" she asked optimistically. Mike didn't reply, he just looked at her and raised his eyebrows.
"Okay, just thought I would ask, no need to be sarky."
"But I didn't say a word," exclaimed Mike, smiling and carrying on with the loading up of the vehicle.
It was no easy thing to get hold of a gun in the United Kingdom. All firearms were strictly controlled. You couldn't just go into town and find a local gun shop. No-one in the UK was even allowed to own a handgun in the traditional sense. Licenses were granted for shotguns and rifles, in fact there were 1.8 million legally registered firearms to roughly 0.8 million individuals, but mostly in rural areas for hunting and the running of farms and estates.
Handguns were a different matter entirely. UK citizens have no right, or permission, to legally carry a handgun or keep one in their home. Even for gun club members the only handgun allowed was a muzzle loader for black powder — anyone trying to get a permit for the explosive black powder was going to be tearing their gra
y hear out by the roots before the paperwork was finished. But it meant that on average every year less than two hundred gun deaths in total occurred in the UK, including murder, accidental death and suicide. It was kind of bad news for a zombie apocalypse though. A few guns would come in very handy when armageddon hit.
All Mike had was the empty shotgun from the farm from the previous night, and he hadn't had enough wits about him at the time to go hunting for cartridges before he high-tailed it back home. Well, they would just have to make do with the rather ridiculous arsenal Ven and Kyle had brought with them, plus whatever they could scavenge from around the place before they left.
Bos Bos scampered past, feeling pretty frisky in the fresh morning air. He even deigned to stop next to Mike for a quick pat on the head. A few sneaky early morning sausages had made him change his mind about him, and he was pretty sure that this man had hidden a few in his pockets. He trotted off after Kyle, who was busy loading some odds and ends into Mike's now less than gleaming '66 Land Rover.
It was quite an idyllic scene that morning. The place really was stunning when the mists cleared and the rain stopped falling for a few minutes. Set in a small valley the commune was very well maintained with rows of vegetable plots, greenhouses and pens for a few animals. Mike had let the small collection of livestock they had loose that morning and the animals roaming around the place only added to the natural beauty of the spot. They couldn't take the creatures with them, and it was unfair to leave them penned when they didn't know if they would ever return.
Earlier that morning, after a fairly hearty breakfast, where Cassie pretty much cooked up anything she thought might be past its best fairly soon, everyone began to get their things together and generally get prepared for what was to come.
"Where's the shower?" asked Ven.
"Over there," said Cassie, pointing at yet another rough looking building. "There won't be hot water though, we have to heat it up first and it takes a while." This involved heating water via a fire that usually was lit in the morning. Pipes ran under it ingeniously, supplying hot water later on in the day. Mike had made quite a stir when he finished the project, it beat pouring a kettle full of water into a cold tin bath any day of the week.
"Ah, okay, I think I will skip it," replied Ven. She hated feeling dirty more than almost anything else, and the last few days meant that grime and remnants of things she didn't even want to think about were still stuck to her. "I think I will just have a wash instead, maybe the barn will have hot water?" she asked hopefully.
"It should do Sis, they went all out with the conversion. In fact I hear they even have an indoor pool," said Cassie. Knowing just how awful Ven must be feeling and how obsessive she was about her appearance.
"What are we waiting for then, let's get outta here," Ven said brightly. The false air of jollity was fooling no-one. Ven really did hope that she could get clean soon, it was almost too much for her to bear. Cold water was simply not working well enough to clean away the layers of grime she felt seeping through her pores. There was also the very pressing need to give Tomas a proper bath too. The poor little guy had been incredibly well behaved considering what had happened recently, but he really did need a proper clean and some serious Mom time.
The plan was simple: load up the vehicles, get going and get safe as quickly as possible. None of them knew what the situation was like out on the roads, in all probability it had changed since Mike had returned. It was hard to imagine just what was going on, no-one having any experience of, or having even considered, just what would happen to society under such circumstances. No-one knew how quickly the zombie botnet had actually taken hold in more rural places.
The reality was that it had taken hold very quickly indeed, both in built up and rural areas alike. Inner cities were nightmares from Clive Barker's darkest imagination come real. Depravities and atrocities were being inflicted on fellow man by both the infected and the untouched alike. Rape, murder and mutilation, all inflicted by people not infected.
That was the good news.
The infected had spread like wildfire, unstoppable unless fully satiated. In a crowd they would not stop to eat until they had killed anyone that moved, the madness all-consuming until they felt the lack of life around them. Only then would an infected person stop to feast, gorging themselves until their stomach was ready to pop. But the process changed quickly. Bodily functions carried on as normal, bowels were evacuated and human flesh was expelled in disgusting sprays of foul vomit, the human body unable to properly process such a taboo diet.
In short order the infected recovered from their stupor — actively looking for their next meal. Each time getting more and more covered in gobbets of flesh and brain, more soaked in blood, shit and piss, all continually staining their clothes, setting hard, attracting flies and stinking to high heaven. This was happening everywhere, it was just that in rural areas a lot more of it was confined to people's homes, but you wouldn't want to go to the pub, that was for sure.
The group were unaware of all this, having been sheltered from the worst by the rural location and the fact that straight after the zombie botnet was released the infected had a fairly immediate supply of food on hand: family members, friends, work colleagues and the odd neighbor. As this close-by source of food began to run out quickly more and more infected were roaming. Day by day it would only get worse as those left uninfected tried to find a way to escape the horrors.
The packing was done pretty quickly, there were not really that many items at the ex-commune that they needed to take. A few tools, anything that could be used as a weapon, extra blankets, cooking utensils and portable cooking equipment. Things Ven and Kyle had not been able to source from suburbia or had simply overlooked altogether.
Cassie and Mike were sad to leave their home, for the most part they had been very happy there. But the situation called for action, there being no doubt that remaining was not a sensible decision. Everyone needed a place to stay that was a lot more secure, and they needed to be able to have time to think about what they were all going to do long term. No-one had had the chance to think about that yet with a clear mind. Some decent rest was definitely in order to be able to properly make such an important decision. Kyle and Ven had not slept well in days, and it was showing. Lack of sleep, along with the traumatic events they'd witnessed, and the overwhelming burden of grief, meant that Ven was actually looking a lot worse than many of the infected.
In no time at all they were loaded and ready to go. Ven and Kyle, along with Tomas, took Ven's Subaru. Bos Bos went with Cassie and Mike, all too happy to tag along with his new friends. Mike would lead, knowing the way. Having a larger vehicle he would be in a better position to shunt aside anything they encountered blocking the way, although hopefully it wouldn't come to that. It was just a few miles drive to the barn, and once there they could make some proper decisions about what to do long term. Plus they could get some proper rest, and find a way to discover what state the world was now in.
Driving around rural Wales, just like much of the British countryside, meant that the views around you were severely limited. The countryside had been broken up into countless fields and enclosures over the centuries, each with a boundary of either dry stone walling or simple hedges. Hedges were common in Wales and it meant that driving around country lanes left you feeling somewhat claustrophobic. Roads were often sunk on either side of the boundaries, the thick tangled planting reaching as much as eight foot tall. With countless bends, and little in the way of notice for oncoming traffic, lanes were often only wide enough for a single vehicle, with passing spaces on the road appearing sporadically.
As they set off the sense of claustrophobia really began to get oppressive. It's one thing having a nice jaunt out into the country, or popping down to the local village and having to maybe pull in to avoid a tractor, but quite another to drive down a narrow lane without being able to see what is around you, when what could be there is someone intent on eating you for dinner
.
There was not a great deal of conversation in either vehicle. Everyone was simply trying to keep it together, forcing themselves not to think about what could be on the other side of the hedge, or around the next bend. Not only was it a time of the year that farm activity was common, but it was summer so holiday season meant a lot of extra traffic during the day time. At night country lanes were almost always deserted, the lack of signposts and the lack of any form of street lighting meant driving around scenic Wales was very much a daytime activity. For the first mile they encountered nothing but emptiness in front of them. It was eerily quiet and the damp, combined with the heat of the summer, meant humidity was high, the day very oppressive. It weighed down on the already low spirits of the whole group. Even Bos Bos was uncharacteristically subdued, normally excited about trips he would try to get his head out of the window. Instead he was happy to sit in the footwell having his ear scratched absently by Cassie.
After a mile they had to drive past a junction that led to the barn to the left or carried on straight ahead towards the local village a further seven miles away. Mike took the turn and Ven followed his lead. The lane opened out, hedges replaced by simple stock fencing for the last part of the journey. It lifted everyone's spirits immediately. Ven and Kyle were especially happy at the open vistas, it seemed like they had both been holding their breath for the entire journey so far.
"Man, I hate those damn hedges, it's like going through a bloody tunnel," said Kyle, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. Ven nodded in agreement, all too aware that they seemed like a right pair of townies.
Ven slammed on the brakes, Mike had stopped abruptly in the middle of the road, a large Fiat Autotrail motorhome was blocking the road ahead. There was no way past.
He reversed back to Ven and Kyle and wound down his window. "We will have to move it," he said. "It's either that or we have to drive through the village and then go all the way around, it will take hours." He didn't look at all happy about it. "Kyle, I think it best we both go and check this out." Turning to Cassie he said, "Cassie, you get into the driver's seat as soon as I am out of the car. Don't go outside though, just budge over from your side to mine. And look everyone, keep an eye out and if you see anything then honk the horn and for God's sake don't under any circumstance get out of the car. Ven, you have Tomas to think of, and Cassie, you need to help look after the little dude if anything happens to us. Okay?"
