The Undead | Day 25 [The Heat]

by Haywood, RR

  And in that moment, as they all fell back once more, I caught sight of him looking at me and felt deep sorrow that one of his beautiful blue eyes was gone.

  Then he too was gone from view as the infected drove in and I screamed out as Jess reared and I lost my grip on the reins from my broken fingers and I fell from her back to land within the ranks of infected.

  Reginald

  ‘Grab the controller. Turn and run through the hatch. Seal the hatch.’

  I repeated it a few times as I plucked the courage to go for it, then, right when one of them threw itself against my sliding door, I finally went for it.

  I grabbed the controller.

  I turned and started running for the hatch.

  I tripped over my feet and went down as the door slid open a few inches. I cried out and got onto my back with my battle swatter ready as the door slammed open to a sea of hate filled faces all staring at me.

  ‘One race?’ I asked. ‘It will be once race. My race. MY RACE. FUCK YOU! I said as the door slammed closed. I blinked and wondered what had happened then glanced at my monitor with a cry of alarm at the sight that greeted me.

  Carmen

  The fighters went overhead again as Jess reared and Charlie went down. I tried to run for her, but I couldn’t get anywhere. Then our line broke and the infected were in amongst us. Cookey went down. Others too, but it was too fast to see properly.

  Then four things happened at the same time.

  The first was that it started to rain.

  The second was that I heard a loud engine and looked over to see Marcy poking up out of the top turret of a Churchill tank carving a path through the infected.

  The third was a 130-kilo infected male that must have been a bouncer came charging at me and got taken off his feet from an uppercut delivered by a ninety-year-old man wearing a beret and a chest full of medals as more old men swarmed in from all around us.

  Old men that woke up that morning with stooped backs and ruined bodies. Old men that couldn’t see or hear properly. Old men full of age and illness. Old men that once held the line against Nazi Germany.

  Old men that were slowly dying when a beautiful young women walked into their midst and offered each of them a kiss.

  And a few minutes later that beautiful young woman walked back out of their building with those old men striding out behind her. No longer blind of deaf. No longer stooped or slowly dying.

  The kiss fixed all of that. The thing given to them cured all their illnesses. They became instantly strong once more, heedless to pain and fearless to boot.

  And the price?

  The price was their minds and the ability to have free thought. But as the beautiful young woman said, you’ve already lived. Help me save the world again.

  I don’t know if she said that. Jesus. For all I know Marcy spat in their faces. But I doubt it. She’s way too stylish for that.

  All I know is that about thirty old commandos that looked ready to keel over with heart attacks ran in and put us to shame. They were like animals. They swarmed into the infected and started kicking knees out and snapping necks and using old daggers to slice jugulars.

  Then the fourth thing happened because the rain cleared some of the smoke and I cried out at the sight before me.

  Charlotte

  I landed hard and banged my head and for a second, I was seeing stars and half aware of Jess kicking and bucking at infected over the top of me. Then I wasn’t seeing stars. I was looking up at an infected female screeching at me as she lunged in for the kill.

  Except she didn’t quite make it because a very old man kicked her away and stepped over me to stab a few more infected down before he turned and grabbed my hand.

  He had to be over one hundred years old. There was no doubt about it, but he lifted me with ease and turned away to keep fighting. He moved like Mo or Dave. He had that fluidity about him, but that wasn’t right because he was so old.

  Then I looked over and saw Marcy going past in a tank and I thought why wouldn’t I see Marcy going past in a tank? It’s Marcy. If anyone was going to use a tank Marcy definitely would.

  I got back on Jess, but I had to take two attempts because I was so drained. Then I felt a few drops of rain on my head and the smoke began to clear and I screamed out from what I saw.

  Reginald

  I forgot about the infected outside my van. I forgot about whomever was killing them, or whatever was going on, because all I could see was the airfield slowly clearing as the rain fell and the breeze took the smoke away.

  What I saw was a broken and ruined world.

  What I saw was that Dave had killed far more than I realised, but there were still plenty left alive.

  Except they weren’t all charging at Howie.

  They were going for the tower.

  Carmen

  The rain fell and the smoke cleared, and I could see the airfield was littered with corpses. We’d done well. We’d killed thousands and I staggered back and turned then cried out at the sight that greeted me.

  The air traffic control was nearly gone from view because of the infected bodies piling to reach the top. They were on all sides, with hundreds of them being used as a platform for more to climb over as they worked toward the top and that silver haired woman who hadn’t uttered a word.

  I cried out at the sight of it and watched as Joan aimed and fired a round from the balcony at the top and a few feet away an infected went down that had lunged at Bashir.

  She was still covering us. She was still there but that horde were only inches away. Then the Spitfire and the Hurricane went overhead firing their guns, but the rounds didn’t come anymore. They were all used up. They were all gone.

  ‘Joan,’ I whispered.

  ‘Tappy! Get the Saxon,’ Howie yelled, but Tappy couldn’t get the Saxon. Nobody could get the Saxon. There were too many infected. It was too far away, and even if we did, we couldn’t use it to remove a body pile that size.

  ‘Marcy. It’s Joan. You know what to do.’

  ‘Fuck no,’ I said. ‘NO!’

  ‘Joanie, I’ll come for you,’ Frank said into his radio as he set off.

  ‘Marcy! Do it now! For the love of God, please do it now, Marcy.’

  ‘Joanie,’ Marcy said.

  ‘I killed children today. I’m okay with this. Come on now. Needs must.’

  I felt sick as I heard the Spitfire and the hurricane start to turn back.

  ‘Joan,’ I said into the radio as the fighters started lowering.

  ‘Carmen. It’s okay. It’s my time,’ Joan said as she paused to shoot her rifle into an infected grabbing the edge of the balcony. Then she turned the rifle and used it to club another one away before drawing her pistol to shoot two more. ‘Howie, You listen to Henry. Let him guide you. And Henry?’ She paused again to fire a few more rounds into the horde as the fighters levelled out. ‘Howie is not a threat to you. He’s young. Guide him.’ A few more shouts as the fighter engines increased in pitch and we all stared up while knowing what was about to happen. ‘Here we are then,’ she said as she emptied her magazine and dropped the pistol. ‘Gentlemen. Ladies. It’s been an honour.’

  She snapped a salute right there on the balcony staring down at us all. I saw Blowers salute back. Then Cookey and Nick. I did it. Henry and Frank. Clarence and Bash. All of us saluted. Not just for Joanie, but for the pilots in those fighters for what they were about to do. For what they had already done.

  For the greatest generation this planet ever saw.

  I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to turn away and scream, but I held on, and I held my salute as I stared at Joanie as the Hurricane hit it at full speed. Exploding instantly with a wall of flame that blew the tower out and Joanie was gone from view.

  Then the Spitfire dropped low to score along the length of the airfield with a stunning display of precision as the front prop eviscerated human forms in one long brutal bloody wake while the wings tore bodies in half. The plane rocked and tilte
d but held the course until it suddenly dropped and scored along the ground. Killing hundreds more before it exploded into flames that took swathes out.

  The whole thing left us speechless, and it was only then that we realised the infected had all gone still and that either the Spitfire or the Hurricane had killed the CP.

  Then another noise came up from behind and we all turned, feeling drunk and ruined, to see a fifty-cal burst firing from the back of a pick-up leading the way for a white school bus decked out with protective metal grills welded over the windows and wheels. I blinked at the arrowhead inverted snow-plough scoop fitted to the front that was pushing through the infected with ease while assault rifles fired out of window slots.

  I just stared at it. I couldn’t move and the rain came down harder. Rinsing the blood from my face as I glanced back to see the tower was half gone. Torn off from the middle. I wanted to cry, but I had no moisture to give. I had nothing left to give.

  The school bus stopped, and I saw the words Christ’s Hospital written on the side. The doors opened, and several dozen kids came running out in PE kit and body armour and formed into firing lines before they began shooting controlled bursts into the infected as the pick-up drove closer, and Major Tilda Tanners stopped firing the fifty-cal.

  ‘We’ve got the survivors, Marcy,’ she called. ‘Leave it with us. We’ll take some and get the rest to the fort.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Marcy said as she dropped from the tank and stood amidst the ruins of another broken landscape. Fires and smoke. Bodies and spent rounds. Limbs torn off and the air thick with chemicals.

  ‘And thank you for them,’ Marcy said as she nodded at the old soldiers still snapping necks and stabbing throats.

  ‘They weren’t mine to give,’ Tilda said. ‘You asked and they accepted. Right. I suggest you fall back. We’ll draw off and shoot the rest down.’

  That was it.

  It was over.

  But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all, and I looked around at the tens of thousands of dead bodies and turned with a wince to stare at the ruins of the north terminal then over to the broken tower, and none of it seemed real.

  Reginald

  It was done. It was over, and I lay in my van on the floor staring up at the monitor on my desk at the ruins of Gatwick, and I didn’t know what to feel.

  I’d seen Joan die and I didn’t know how to feel.

  Something Howie said came to my mind, that all we ever needed to win was Dave.

  For all of my genius. For all of Howie’s bravery. For all of Henry’s training and experience.

  All we ever needed was Dave and I looked upon the ruins of Gatwick and could see he’d killed tens of thousands in an instant. We didn’t win that battle. Dave did.

  I got up and opened my sliding door and stared out to see the horde that had attacked my van were all dead. Then I frowned and realised that Major Tanners had gone to help the survivors at the northeast point. And the old commandos had come in from the western end. Whereas I was on the southern edge.

  So if it wasn’t Major Tanners, and it wasn’t Marcy, then who killed the infected outside of my van? I couldn’t see sign of anyone. But I did see the cut marks on the bodies that indicated a sharp blade. But Dave and Mo were both with Howie.

  It was a mystery, but right then I had no energy to give it greater thought.

  We’d played the game and won, but Joan was dead and everyone else was hurt.

  It was a victory, but it didn’t feel like it.

  47

  Diary of Carmen Eze

  It was a mess.

  We were a mess, and I thought back to Hinchley Point. A place once famous for its Mediterranean architecture and white-washed walls.

  It wasn’t anymore.

  It was another place of ruin and death in this brave new world.

  Then I looked around at Gatwick. A place once famous as the busiest single runway airport in the world.

  But that too was another place of ruin and death in this brave new world, and I stared up for few seconds and let the rain land on my face. Rain that came gently at first. Just a few spots. A light drizzle. But then it came down properly and within a few seconds I had my mouth open to let the pure clean waters pour in.

  We all did the same. We all stood there and did nothing because we had nothing to give. No words. No energy. No thoughts even, and while the pick-up drove off, and the trained army cadets cut the rest of the horde down, we stood and let the rain soak our faces and bodies.

  But time rolls on. I guess it always will, and after a while I lowered my head to see the terrible state we were in.

  Danny’s fingers. Mo’s ear. Cookey’s eye and the top of his arm. Nick’s face. Blowers had deep bites over his neck and shoulders and cuts down his face. Howie was cut and bit. Paula was cut and bit. We were all cut and bit. Tappy’s nose was bent, and her eyes were already going purple with bruises. Then I looked at Charlie. Her cheek was flayed open down to the bone and she was covered in lacerations and grazes with grit and glass sticking out of her arms and neck and just about everywhere. But she was still upright, and she looked regal and majestic with her head high and her back straight. Hurt, but not broken. Damaged, but not defeated.

  Then I heard an intake of breath and turned to see Howie staring at Clarence’s hand as more of us did the same and sucked air in at the sight of it.

  ‘Mate,’ Howie said, looking from the hand to Clarence.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Clarence said. Hurt, but not broken. Damaged, but not defeated.

  ‘Yeah, so I’m not a doctor,’ Howie said with a grimace. ‘But er…’ he trailed off to look at Roy

  ‘Yeah. I’m not a doctor either,’ Roy said. ‘But that needs to come off.’

  ‘It’s not coming off,’ Clarence said.

  ‘Mate. It needs to come off,’ Howie said. ‘It’s literally hanging by a few tendons.’

  ‘Just gaffer tape it. Dave, give me that tape.’

  ‘You can’t gaffer tape it! Dave, finish taping Danny’s fingers. Clarence, seriously. Just cut it off,’ Howie said.

  ‘I’m not cutting my hand off.’

  ‘Clarence. It has to come off,’ Paula said.

  ‘But I’m right-handed,’ Clarence said.

  ‘You were right-handed,’ Frank said.

  ‘I am right handed. Pass me the bloody gaffer tape.’

  ‘How are you going to unwind it?’ Howie asked. ‘You’ve only got one hand. It needs to come off. Dave?’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Clarence said as he spun away only to find Dave in front of him whipping out with his blade through the tendon as the hand dropped to the ground. ‘You cut my hand off,’ Clarence said in disbelief.

  ‘Fuck, Dave! I meant pass the tape,’ Howie said.

  ‘You cut my hand off,’ Clarence said again. ‘You actually cut my hand off! I’M GONNA BLOODY KILL YOU!’

  Clarence then went for Dave who stepped back and threw the tape at Clarence’s head. ‘There you go.’

  ‘I’LL FUCKING KILL HIM!’

  ‘Stop the dog!’ Marcy then yelled as we all span back to see Meredith snaffling Clarence’s hand up then pulling back with a low growl at us all looking at her.

  ‘Nick! Get my hand out of your dog’s mouth!’

  ‘She’s not my bloody dog!’

  ‘Sod the hand, that needs cauterizing,’ Roy said as the blood spurted from Clarence’s stump.

  ‘But we’ve got the virus thing. It’ll scab over.’

  ‘You’re losing too much blood,’ Henry said. ‘Roy’s right. It needs to be cauterized. There’s enough fire here. Someone, grab something hot.’

  ‘It has to be red hot,’ Roy said as Mads and Booker ran off to drag a chunk of aircraft over the ground. One half of it burning with flame, and the metal glowing red.

  ‘Right. Grab him,’ Henry said. ‘Come on, lads. Get in here.’

  ‘He doesn’t need to be grabbed,’ Paula said as she walked over to stand in fron
t of Clarence. ‘It needs to be done. Okay?’

  He nodded as she reached up to loop a hand around his neck and guided him down onto his knees as she did the same and pressed her forehead to his while she held his forearm out. ‘We’ll get a freezer truck,’ she said softly as Henry and Roy dragged the flaming debris closer. ‘Just you and me,’ Paula said as Clarence closed his eyes and nodded gently. ‘We’ll sit and shiver all night. Just you and me. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.’

  He tensed when they pressed the stump into the flames near the glowing edge of the metal and the air filled with the stench and sizzle of burning meat, but Clarence didn’t say a word. He didn’t scream or cry out. He couldn’t. His lips were pressed to Paula’s.

  And that kiss kept going when they let his arm go and so we stood in that place of ruin and death where Joan gave her life for ours. Where we gave everything we could to protect the lives of people we never knew. People that were too stupid to flee and run when they were told.

  But they were our species, and in order for the Panacea to stand a chance against the virus enough people had to survive to receive it.

  That’s why we were there. Because that was the game, and that was the hunt, and as much as we moaned and bickered and suffered the heat and hurt, we were all in it.

  By fuck we were in it.

  All the way to the bitter end.

  48

  A small town with a single road running through the centre. An old pub with a thatched roof to one side. A small supermarket opposite. The windows broken.

  Rows of thatched cottages stretch off along leafy lanes on one side while on the other the newer properties stand in all their ubiquitous glory. Small gardens and small houses. White UPVC windows and white UPVC doors.

  Suburbia in all its sterile glory.

  An idyllic home counties market town filled with idyllic homes where people existed while trapped in cycles of life that never changed. Waiting to live and waiting to die and then regretting it all when the end came.