by Colley, Ryan
I switched my assault rifle to single-shot and pushed my finger through the trigger guard. For the briefest of moments, my gloved finger caught on it – it was too thick for the trigger! I had to do something about it when I had a chance. I ignored the discomfort and began taking shots at the approaching horde. Each shot that connected caused the skull of a zombie to disappear in a puff of red mist as it disintegrated. They were recently reanimated corpses, so the blood was still fresh – otherwise, it wouldn’t bloom in the way it did. How messed up was it that I knew that distinction? The people had died on the flight, maybe even in the crash, but the plane was now disgorging its undead passengers at their final destination.
I carried on shooting at the undead. Each one went down on the first or second attempt, with only some shots going wide or tearing out throats. I was getting more accurate as time went on. It was so mechanical and calculated. Aim. Shoot. Kill. Repeat.
Before long, Stephanie and Kirsty rounded the corner and started firing shots without any hesitation. Stephanie had the Browning handgun, ever accurate and precise – each shot felling a zombie. Kirsty had also brought the last SA80 and a few preloaded magazines. The Benelli was probably back in the van.
“We heard shots,” Kirsty said without making eye contact, carefully taking aim. She was a brilliant shot, taking out the first zombie she sighted. I had a sudden moment of realisation that I was the worst shot in the group. That made me smile, I felt well protected.
As more and more undead poured out from the wreckage and the various streets around us, we slowly realised we were becoming overwhelmed.
“We need to head back,” I shouted over the staccato of gunfire. We’d been slowly backpedalling without even realising as we were shooting, their numbers pushing us into a retreat. Second by second, we were losing inches of ground. Before long, inches grew into feet. What remained of the extra magazines disappeared under the feet of the undead and couldn’t be recovered, lost forever as the undead pushed forward. I felt panic tighten my chest. We weren’t going to make it! I began retreating, moving faster than the others.
“Where are you going?” Kirsty growled at me. I kept going. Where the hell was I going?
“I’ll get the van!” I shouted at them and sprinted away, justification for my retreat coming to my mind. I heard Kirsty shout something but I was already out of earshot.
I moved faster and faster, dodging all the debris and rubble. My body burned and felt as though I was overheating. It was the leather. Sure I had mobility and protection, but it was just so damn hot! I felt like panting in the way a dog would just to cool down. I was sweating, and that was made so much worse by my choice of clothing. I would have to deal with it later though. And speaking of dogs, a little scrappy looking dog appeared beside me. He was matching my speed, despite his little legs, running away from the same thing I was. We shared the briefest of eye contact, two intelligent beings communicating our fear for a moment, before it disappeared in a different direction. That was weird.
I focused on everything else just to get me through it. The shots seemed distant, even though I knew they weren’t all that far. I could hear the groaning and creaking of the various infrastructure as I ran by. A building near me collapsed into a spray of dust and stone. I coughed and sputtered as the airborne debris coated the lining of my throat and burned my eyes, but I kept running. As the pieces of the plane and brickwork shifted, buildings kept falling. It was a danger zone. I ducked under the wing of the plane, which seemed to be shifting too. It was all coming down!
“Keith, I need you to keep the doors open on the back,” I told Keith as I cut his binds. I was in the back of the van and started climbing into the front.
“What’s happened?” he replied with a puzzled look on his face.
“The dead,” I replied bluntly. I didn’t have time to explain. Nor did I have time to doubt my actions of releasing Keith. If he was going to be an issue, then so be it. I would pay for it. I started up the van and began reversing. I stared over my shoulder and out through the wide-open doors. I dodged and swerved erratically, finding it hard to compensate for everything when moving backwards. I almost crashed into a wall, managing to avoid it at the last second. Keith was being thrown back and forth, up and down, but kudos to him – he kept that door open.
We rounded the corner and came to the wing. We weren’t going any farther. The wing wouldn’t allow it, and I didn’t want to touch it. Instead, I grabbed my SA80, balanced it on the headrest and started firing over Keith at the undead who were heading our way. I kicked the horn with my foot repeatedly, alerting the women to our location. I just hope they got there before the hordes of undead. I kept firing at the undead which rounded the corner to us. Grey and gore-covered faces would enter my crosshairs and I would let loose a bullet. Most the shots went wild in my panic but I managed to bring a few down – brain and blood catching the dust in the air as it sprayed walls.
It was lucky I wasn’t hitting every shot, because the two figures I fired at as they rounded the corner were Kirsty and Stephanie. They were sprinting. Dodging in between the undead, and shoving those that got too close or took notice of them. Kirsty’s SA80 bounced off her body with each step, the strap holding it in place. Stephanie didn’t have her gun anymore – she must have ditched it for whatever reason. That was one more gun we’d lost! Regardless, both moved as quickly they as could. They barely saw the wing and nearly collided with it. Luckily, they were quick to react – Stephanie went under it and Kirsty dived over it. Kirsty slid straight into the back of the van and bounced along the metal while Stephanie stepped in.
Once they were in, Keith shut the doors and I drove forward. I watched as undead collided with the wing of the plane, braining themselves and leaving bloody smears on the white metal. Others, more nimble than their brethren, traversed the wing and kept chasing us.
I could hear the girls breathing heavily before Stephanie started to laugh.
“That was amazing!” she howled. Kirsty followed suit and so did I. The fear and adrenaline was leaving us and all we could do was laugh. I was crying – tears streamed down my face, but I still laughed. Even Keith had a smile plastered on his face. For that very brief moment, we were all equals.
CHAPTER 12
With any high, there was the heavy comedown that followed. We went from manic laughter, straight into feeling horribly depressed. As the serotonin left our bodies, we struggled to keep our morale up. That’s where the term ‘Monday Blues’ came from, so say. After a weekend of partying and drug binges, which kept the happy chemical high in the body, it meant that Monday would be the massive comedown from that – you felt sluggish and depressed. Except, we’d gained our high through adrenaline from facing death head-on. The high didn’t last.
Afterwards, the atmosphere of the van was quiet and we all felt distant. None of us spoke. None of us wanted to even think about what we’d seen. Where had the plane come from? I’m fairly certain the crash was caused by the undead on-board and not undead being a result of the crash. So, that likely meant that the undead weren't just in mainland Britain. Wherever the plane had flown from, the undead were clearly there too. I‘d never planned to leave Britain to seek refuge, but that option had been taken away from us. It truly was the end of days.
“So, what’s the plan now?” Keith finally asked, breaking the silence. Oh yeah, there was the issue of Keith. He was in the back and unbound. What did we do about it? Did we leave him free? Or, regardless of how he’d helped us, did we re-tie him for our safety? That being said, his actions weren’t purely altruistic – he saved himself also. Questions, questions, questions. I sighed and, for reasons I didn’t know, indicated to pull over. I shifted to the edge of the road.
“What’s up?” Kirsty asked.
“We need to cast a vote,” I said, looking everyone in the eye. Keith instantly knew what it was about – he wasn’t stupid, and he even looked resigned to his fate.
“It’s about me,” he sighed and r
an his hand across his head. Both Kirsty and Stephanie became visibly aware that he was no longer bound and they didn’t like it.
“I cut his binds so that he could help us. It was a split-second decision, and ensured both of your survivals,” I stated. I wanted to get all the evidence out before a decision was made. I turned to Keith, “It may seem unfair but, for the sake of the group, we need to discuss whether to have you rebound.”
“Re-bind him,” Stephanie said without a moment’s hesitation.
“Although I don’t think he is an immediate threat … I agree,” Kirsty said carefully. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Naturally, I assume you’re voting against this?” I said to Keith.
He sighed and said with a smile, “If it gives everyone else peace of mind, go for it. I’m not happy with it, but this is a democracy after all.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said with a nod – at least I didn’t have to take sides since everyone had decided for me.
I got out of the van and climbed in with Keith.
“Sorry about this,” I said with an awkward smile.
“No worries,” he yawned. It was the norm for him at that point. “I just wish there was something I could do to prove my innocence.”
“It would have to be something extreme to gain everyone’s trust,” I said with a shrug. Personally, I didn’t believe he would ever gain the rest of the groups’ trust. Nothing he could do would be good enough.
I continued to re-do his binds, although I gave him some extra length so it wasn't as restrictive as before. He didn’t seem like such a bad guy – I didn’t want to make his life unpleasant. He was with us voluntarily, and he’d voluntarily been re-bound. He hadn’t caused any trouble and, I would even go as far as to say, had been a good addition to our group. Yet, there we were re-binding him and it still felt like the right thing to do. There was a little niggle, a small doubt, in the back of my mind about him. It was a worm, burrowing its way deep inside. Would Keith try to screw us over? Was he biding his time before he would strike and prove Kirsty right? Nearly everyone I’d trusted found some way to become a threat and injure those I’d been caring for. It was a pattern I didn’t want to repeat. All thoughts about leaving him in some comfort left me as I tightened his binds a little more – better to be safe than sorry.
We kept driving. As far as we could to get away from the crash site. I thought having it out of sight would mean having it out of mind, and it worked too. The further we got, the better our spirits became. Admittedly, I would be keeping one eye on the sky in the future. Who knew how many more planes would start falling? Nonetheless, we still had a plan to follow.
“Kirsty,” I started suddenly. “Can you find something about a garage or some sort of car shop or something on the map?”
She didn’t answer but went straight to the map, thumbing through it. We’d learned to keep the map at hand so we didn’t lose our current location.
“There’s a housing estate nearby and looks like there’s a few warehouses or something not far from them. A factory I think,” Kirsty replied, tapping it with her finger. The moment we passed another sign, Kirsty marked it on the map with a pen using a small X so she could refer back to that point should she need to find us again.
“What’s the plan?” Keith asked, breaking his long sulk.
“We spoke about modding the van … before the plane incident,” I replied casually. “I still think we should.”
“Makes sense,” Kirsty nodded. She turned to Stephanie who was staring glassy-eyed out of the window. “Steph?”
No response.
“Everything alright?” I said, looking at her as well. All eyes were on her now. She’d been silent for a little while – ever since the vote on tying Keith up.
“Steph,” Kirsty repeated, finally grabbing her attention. She never looked around.
“There’s nothing,” she stated quietly.
“That’s the countryside for you,” I said, referring to the fact there was nothing but fields either side of us.
“No,” she replied shaking her head. “There isn’t anything out there. No people. No groups. Nowhere safe. Just … just zombies.”
“That’s the end of civilisation,” I shrugged unsympathetically. What did she expect?
“I’m sure it’ll get better,” Kirsty added, flashing me an angry look.
“The world will rebuild,” Keith added from somewhere behind me.
“It won’t though … will it,” Stephanie replied, finally looking at all of us. “The world won’t get better, it won’t rebuild. It’s too far gone for that now. The plane made me realise. Even if Britain is wiped from the map, it’s too late. It’s spread too far. It’s out of our hands. So what is there left for us?”
“Survival,” I replied firmly.
“Why though?” Stephanie snapped back angrily.
“We owe it to ourselves, our family and the rest of the people who’ve died,” Kirsty added looking between Stephanie and me, expecting some sort of support from the latter.
“What would be the point though?” Stephanie demanded with tears in her eyes.
“So that the world does actually have some semblance of a chance to rebuild,” I replied, anger welling within me.
“There isn’t even a point to that though!” Stephanie shouted. “We’d just be holding off the inevitable! Even if we had a hundred people and another hundred as compatible partners. Even if they all had kids … how many generations would they all last before they died off? That’s counting the best-case scenario. We haven’t even seen a hundred living people. We’re screwed!”
“It might not be like that,” I replied, uncertainty creeping into my voice. I lacked conviction. Stephanie was right. Even if we found a community, or set one up, it wouldn’t last forever. We had no future as an individual or as a species. Yet, I couldn’t let her know that I agreed. We needed the group to hold together. “We still have people out there – others, like us, who want to survive. Hell, we’re chasing a military convoy full of people!”
“Oh come on Sam, be realistic!” she scoffed. “You listen to that broadcast twice a day, and all you have is their word. You’re chasing the ghost of a dead woman.”
That hurt.
“Steph, you need to calm down,” Kirsty said calmly.
“No, I don’t!” she shouted in reply. She turned to stare at me. “You’re all following an idiot. He’s no hero, he’s just as broken as everyone else! He's just better at hiding it!"
That was it. I’d had enough.
I slammed my foot on the brake and the van came to a screeching halt. Everyone turned to look at me.
“Get out,” I said calmly, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at Stephanie.
“I–” she began, suddenly realising the venom her words contained.
“Just get out,” I said again, interrupting her, and looking her in the eyes that time. She didn’t say anything else. She climbed out of the van, shut the door behind her, and started walking away. She didn’t even wait to take anything or look back. She just left.
Kirsty looked at me wide-eyed and said, “Sam, you can’t just–”
“Shut up,” I snapped at her and started driving away. No one said a thing. Not a word was spoken and I didn’t care. I was angry, and anger fuelled my decision.
I drove about a mile away before my anger began to ebb away. My body released the tension I’d been holding and I sighed, slowing the van and turning around. I felt like an asshole. I’d let anger take control and it wasn’t acceptable – it made me feel like too many people I knew.
My eyes darted around, covering every inch of the surrounding area as I drove. Every second I didn’t see her felt like an eternity. Where the hell was she? I shouldn’t have left her. Fear gripped my heart as it skipped a beat. My breathing quickened as my heart palpitated. She couldn’t have gone far. I should have seen her by now! If anything–
“There she is!” Kirsty called out a
nd pointed to the edge of the road, immediately dispelling my panic. Stephanie was sitting on the roadside with her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, pulling them close. Her head was resting on her knees and, even from my distance, I could see she was sobbing. I slowed to a stop next to her and Kirsty opened the passenger door.
“Get in,” I demanded, but I didn’t feel as strong as I acted. I felt terrible, but I didn’t want her to see that. She didn’t move. “Steph. In.”
I waited a couple more moments for her as she got up wordlessly and climbed in.
“I’m sorry,” I said awkwardly. She didn’t answer, but I knew she’d heard because her sobbing slowed significantly. I did another U-turn and headed back the way we were meant to be heading. The van was silent, all except for the sound of Stephanie’s sobs.
CHAPTER 13
“What’re you doing?” Keith asked, squinting as he watched me work in the back of the van. I was tired of the road, so Kirsty had taken over as driver. Plus, I needed a distraction as Stephanie was beginning to grate on me. She just kept going, even when the tears wouldn’t come, she carried on sobbing. Maybe it was unsympathetic of me, but I needed just a bit of distance. Being in the van for so long with others was frustrating. Everyone was breaking down – first Stephanie in an explosive manner, and then me internally. How long before Keith or Kirsty broke?
“I had issues with it before,” I replied suddenly. “I wanted to be ready for the next time I needed to fire a gun.”
I was sitting with my leather jacket off. I was baking in the van, with sweat running off me in rivers. Except my mind wasn’t on the heat, it kept returning to the site of the plane crash and my difficulty with my glove and the trigger. As a result, I decided to cut away the forefinger of one of my gloves – namely the one which covered my trigger finger. It left my finger exposed, but an unprotected finger was a worthy sacrifice if it meant I could comfortably fire a shot.
