by Al K. Line
The deal was he would hand it over when he was sure of how to create the best military weapon ever: berserker soldiers that would stop at nothing. But he had decided on a better use for his weapon, to wipe clean the world and to let it burn as he himself withered and died.
Now that research was unobtainable. He was no longer there to give up its secrets, or to tell of its whereabouts. Not that there was anyone left alive who knew what he had been researching anyway. His employers had been some of the first to succumb to the zombie botnet. Those at the top of the ladder hiding their dark reach behind a facade of legitimate businesses were overrun by infected seconds after the virus was unleashed. Those involved in the more covert side of things, working away in secret places and under close supervision, found themselves set upon by rabid infected or were themselves infected, thus helping rid the world of their fellow man.
All that was left was death.
The true research behind the subliminal packet that Ven had been tricked into sending out was lost forever. Sarlic had told no-one where it was stored, his perfectly timed death ensured he could now no longer tell. All that was left was the zombie botnet. A corruption of Ven's rather insane plan to manipulate the populace into making her a very rich woman. She would never find out how she had been compromised in such an unforgiving way, she would never find Sarlic's research. But it wouldn't stop her trying.
The world burned, and the infected got hungrier and hungrier. They became stronger and more rabid as time wore on, the more desperate for fresh flesh they became the more berserk they were. Groups formed, understanding a kill was easier to make in larger numbers. Senses heightened, hunger grew inside of them, and survival meant one thing only: brains.
Sarlic just slowly rotted in his chair.
There was no-one who loved him to come looking, even his employers were dead. Not that he even knew who they were, he only ever had contact with a middleman. The zombie botnet was the most successful piece of viral content in the history of the Web, and as long as there remained a Web, or even a single infected device that could connect to a brand new, wiped clean Internet structure, then it could happen all over again at the tap of an icon or the push of a keyboard button.
If Sarlic was looking up at his handiwork from hell then you could bet your life on one thing — he would be smiling contentedly, the proud instigator of armageddon.
It absolutely would not stop until food was no longer available and the Earth returned to a time when man was no longer the dominant species, but would merely huddle in fear trying to stay alive. Wondering if anyone was still on Facebook.
There's no app for fear, but if there was Sarlic would have been a very rich man.
Tŷ y Diafol
With the Land Rover luckily having all of their gear Mike spent a few minutes spreading the load between the two vehicles. If anything happened then at least they wouldn't lose it all. The experience of the morning re-enforcing his decision that they should never keep their basic supplies in just one vehicle, but to spread the risk somewhat. Cassie and Kyle would go together and the rest of them would go in the minivan. It was felt best that Ven didn't drive, the incident of yesterday meant that she was not quite back to herself by a long way, and it was just too risky.
With a route planned that took them around anything that even resembled a built up area, or place where people may congregate, they were ready to go. Mike would lead, with Cassie following close behind.
With the vehicles loaded Mike went back inside the chapel, taking food supplies with him. It was all cold, just an assortment of tins and snack food, but he was famished, and so were the rest of them. They settled down to their make-shift meal, each ravenously devouring a whole tin of baked beans, various crackers, chocolate bars, plus a can of fizzy drink, or in Al's case three. This was nearly all the food they had brought with them, but no-one apart from Al had eaten that day, the rest having not consumed anything since the previous morning. Although far from fulfilling they at least had some energy to see them through their next trial, and Al ingratiated himself with Bos Bos in the most exciting of ways.
Al rummaged around in his rucksack, bringing out a few packets of vending machine sandwiches he had taken from the library early that morning. He had eaten all his own food days ago, but had survived fairly well on the supplies from the machines, but primarily by ransacking the bags of the pile of dead bodies the zombies left in their wake at the library. It was quite amazing how many people that frequent libraries take a packed lunch with them. Al had no qualms about taking the sandwiches of the undead, it was bad manners to let food go to waste — his mum had taught him that from an early age.
"He is a dog that likes the sandwiches?" Al asked Ven, pointing to Boscoe who was already sitting obediently next to Al from the second he got a whiff of what was on offer.
"Bos Bos? Um, sure, he will eat anything."
Ven was still unaware that Bos Bos was a cheese sandwich pilferer extraordinaire — it was why she stayed so slim. Whenever she forgot about a meal that her husband would often leave in her office Bos Bos would devour it if he thought Ven wasn't looking. She was often so caught up in her work she could never remember if she had eaten the meal or not.
Thump, thump, went Bos Bos at the mention of his name.
"Is Bos Bos a good doggie?" asked Al, holding the sandwich in his hand delicately.
Thump, thump.
"And is he going to be a clever boy and give the paw?"
And he did. Bos Bos lifted up his right paw and sat obediently, one eye on Al, one on the elusive sandwich. Bos Bos would do anything for food, it was just no-one had ever asked him before. He was a dog of hidden depths if truth be told, he just played it cool.
"Bloody hell! That's the first trick he's learned in six years," said Ven, amazed, still clutching Tomas tightly. She didn't want to ever let him go again.
"Ten pence," said Al, furrowing his brows at Ven, conveying bitter disappointment at her lack of lady-like language.
"What!" she protested. "But I didn't swear, I just said—"
"Twenty now, you must not be arguing," Al said happily.
"Fine, I will give it to you later. And anyway, you don't even have a swear box yet, so there," was Ven's rather smug retort, really just trying to worm her way out of the debt.
"Hmm," said Al, not liking being got the better of.
Poor Bos Bos was feeling queasy, he had been sat with his paw in the air through the exchange and there was a large spreading puddle of drool on the floor, he was salivating so much. Al gave him the sandwich, and it was cheese, and it was good.
Bos Bos definitely had a new best friend now.
While everyone finished off their meals, and the last of the gear was gathered together ready to be loaded when they left, Ven went off to one of the chapel's pews and bonded with her baby in the best way she could. She fed the little guy from her breast — feeling almost whole again. He was definitely hungry, the poor little guy was totally out of his normal routine. The still distraught Ven tried not to think about the horror she had felt the day before when the botnet attempted to take such an innocent victim. After a feed, Tomas had a change of clothes and diaper, and you would have never known that he had been a zombie botnet victim just the previous day.
"Make sure you have a pee before we set off, I am not stopping once we get going so don't say I didn't warn you. This is real life here folks. This isn't the movies or some book where there is always the convenient total lack of peeps needing to go to the loo. Do it now or hold it 'til we get there. Either that or find a way to do it out the window on the move."
Mike's loud shout-out had the desired effect.
Everyone took turns to discreetly do their business.
It went well until Al had his turn. Three cans of fizzy drink meant the long stream he produced could be heard echoing around the chapel, everyone actually concerned it could be heard through the thick wooden door and be a signal to any passing zombie.
It was
n't that bad. Not quite.
###
Out on the road the two vehicles drove slowly through the country lanes. The sunshine had been replaced with rain, and it meant that the going was slow. The winding roads made looking ahead hard, and Mike, driving the lead vehicle, was still all too aware of the risk of attack or encountering a vehicle blocking their way. The blue sky of earlier was gone. Low dark clouds amassed, heightening the feeling of claustrophobia the high hedgerows induced. Mike tried to join in with the better mood in the back, but kept lapsing into silence, concentrating and trying to keep everyone safe.
Al was singing away in the rear, Ven even joining in sporadically. Ven was normally quite a serious woman, and rather self-conscious, so it took some coaxing from Al to get her to sing along with him. Bos Bos was glued to Al's side, keeping an eye on his magic rucksack — just in case it leaked cheese.
Baby Tomas seemed to want to do nothing but sleep, his mum was very concerned about this. There was simply no way of knowing what the long term effect was from the botnet virus on his little brain, but he certainly didn't seem like he was infected. His swelling had totally gone down, he seemed to be able to breathe normally, and he looked just like he always had. A happy child.
After a while silence dominated, everyone picking up on the mood the trip produced, safety concerns along with the brooding weather were not conducive to keeping a sunny disposition. The atmosphere in the Land Rover following close behind was sombre too. They would all feel a lot happier once they finally had a place to rest that they could genuinely feel safe in.
A few hours later, and with no incidents more dangerous than having to wait for cattle to get out of their way, they wound their way over the ridge of a hill on a compacted aggregate lane and a small valley opened up beneath them. The lane rose again sharply as it wound its way up to the house atop the valley rise. Down the left side, which sloped away sharply from the rough road surface, were orchards, small dry stone walls leveling the slope at regular intervals.
At the bottom was a small lake, fed by a pure and clean stream that came out of the ground at the top of the ridge, from the mouth of a jumble of moss covered boulders, then trickled gently down to its resting place. The rain had eased off and the sun was peeking through from behind lifting clouds, dappling the grass with light and lifting the spirits of the weary but mostly alert travelers.
To the right of the lane a bank rose sharply, kept in place by a variety of ferns, mosses, grasses and wild plants. Atop it were the remains of a hedge, stock proof fencing now doing the job it once performed. The approach was one of total contrast — dark and brooding high bank to the right, open vistas and the best views that Wales had to offer to the left.
The valley then rose again via the narrow lane, leading to Tŷ y Diafol, the ancient collection of buildings that was known as a manor house in Wales. This was not a grand house with hundreds of rooms and manicured lawns, this was for a member of the landed gentry of the fifteen hundreds. The original building was made from a wooden oak frame, the front filled in with locally made red brick, the sides and the back had infill of straw, flint and rubble. All apart from the front then being plastered over with a thick mix of lime and straw. For the time it was a very grand building and displayed wealth, slowly it had been added to over the centuries to make quite an imposing sight.
Stone and brick barns were set out somewhat haphazardly, predominantly to the right of the house and nearest to the lane, all mostly grouped around a central open space. The building had additional wings built at different stages, now all of red brick that was expensive to use and deliver. The end result was a large building with a mixture of styles, but one feature that made it the absolute perfect place to set up home.
It had a fabulously huge red brick walled garden. Over thirteen feet high it ran for at least a hundred meters on the longest two sides, one of which faced south to capture heat on the high wall. The walled garden ran out and behind the left side of the manor house, with the only access to it either from within the building or through a single wooden door on the shorter side, facing out over the valley.
The place looked perfect.
There were sheep and cows roaming in the fields, the coarse, well grazed grass coming right up to the front of the building. Various old oaks provided shade, the unadulterated water source meant it was a place of congregation for ducks and birds of all kinds. The small lake was fenced off from the livestock so was very pure and clean. As the property was at the ridge of the small valley it commanded good views if someone came to attack. With a minimal number of windows or doors it should be easy to set up good defenses.
The only problem now was finding out if anyone was home, if they were alive, if they were out for brains, or if the newcomers were welcome.
As they wound their way closer, Ven shouted for Mike to stop the vehicle.
"That's my fu— that's my Subaru!" said Ven, glancing at Al to check he wasn't after more cash. She was just glad that she hadn't met Al before the world went to shit, there were Online versions of swear boxes where you could input a Twitter or Facebook account and it would check your history for profanity. She would owe a fuck-load to Al if he had ever checked up on that shit!
Mike peered where she was pointing. In a barn to the right of the house you could see her car, obviously hers by the scratches along the roof where she had mistimed exiting her garage just days before, although it seemed like a lifetime ago to Ven.
Had so much happened in so little time?
It was scant days ago when her husband was still alive and she was just dreaming of becoming rich and buying the best damn carpets money could get you.
She did love a deep shag-pile.
Cassie pulled up alongside at a passing spot on the lane and they discussed the best way to deal with the new complication. Eventually both cars were reversed back behind the rise of the hill, hoping, but not sure, that they hadn't been seen.
A new makeshift plan was decided upon — Al and Mike would make their way across the fields that led around to the side of the property and see what they could discover. If they could deal with the situation they would, hence taking Al being a good idea. If not then they would formulate a better plan once they knew what they were up against. It was estimated it would be just fifteen minutes each way there and back over the fields. So if they weren't back in an hour, or if anyone else approached, then the girls were to drive the hell out of there. Kyle was under strict orders to keep them safe no matter what. It was a far from ideal situation, everything being decided on the spur of the moment, but what else could they do? They needed to know if they could claim the house as theirs or would have too much of a battle on their hands.
Mike borrowed Ven's sword, Al was happier just relying on his fists.
The trip over the fields was encounter free, if somewhat muddy. They had to hop over stock proof fencing, deal with a ditch and the remains of an old gnarled hawthorn hedgerow, then do battle with a steep field that also sloped to the left like it was falling into the valley. The field contained what seemed to be an inordinate amount of sheep droppings for the number of animals they could see. It was damp and it was slightly disorienting, as the uphill field skirted the road to the house in parts then seemed to veer off to the right somewhat. It wasn't until they topped the rise that they knew exactly where they were.
The stile that allowed them to exit the field was practically opposite the side of the house, and led to the right of the barn with Ven's Subaru. The space between was just dirt that was compacted from regular use by vehicles and people.
Mike and Al crept cautiously around the back of the barn, keeping low and quiet, their feet leaving muddy prints in the packed, and surprisingly dry earth. There were more small buildings around the back, and Mike could also see the size of the walled garden. It was a great place to set up for the long haul, there was no doubt about that. Mike wanted to see just what they were up against, and whether they were going to have to deal with a group
of people, or maybe just a scared person who had a similar idea to the—
Mike felt the impact just as the force of the shotgun blast threw him off his feet and sent him flying three feet backwards to land in the dirt. He knew at once that this was one encounter he was never going to walk away from. In an instant he could feel the life-force draining out of his body. A numbness combined with a wave of tiredness washed over him as he lay prone, staring at the bleak Welsh sky, blood pumping from the many wounds to his chest.
It's been a good few years, the best.
Stay safe Cassie, and those fucking weirdos better look after you.
Mike died in the dirt, his chest riddled with shot, his heart pulped. Blood spouted from the numerous wounds then ebbed to a slow trickle. It was an inglorious way to die, not the way he envisioned his last moments, but he had no regrets. The last few years of his life, right up until Saturday night and the fucking zombies, had been the best of his very interesting, and often adventurous time on earth.
Al roared with rage.
He charged like a bull in the direction of the blast, hammering into a man in his thirties, dirty and disheveled and looking very scared. Al smashed a giant fist into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe and breaking his neck — he was dead before he hit the ground. Al felt sadness envelop him as the rage subsided; he had liking for Mike, he sang with him on the bus and he treated him with respect. Even if he had done a lot of bad word talking and still owed him money for the swear box.
Fifteen minutes later Al arrived back at the vehicles, stumbling straight down the access road rather than over the fields. It never even crossed his mind to consider if the man he killed was acting alone.
"Mike is shot at from being by a bad man," panted Al, his words coming out more disordered than usual as his stress levels rose. He was a mess: out of breath, bloody, sweating and looking wild.
"Is he okay," asked Cassie, worried for her man.
