The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle

by David K. Roberts

  A shot rang out, and the first officer’s head exploded, blood and brain matter spraying out behind. It collapsed as a second shot sounded, bringing down the other one. In his desperation to see normality in these two policemen, Joe had failed to notice the thousands of dead queuing at the check-in desks, the huge numbers of people milling around aimlessly, dragging wheeled carry-on luggage, leaving trails of bloody footsteps and gory material in their wake.

  Rob and Daniel walked as fast as they dared towards the diplomat.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Rob hissed, angrily. “Didn’t you notice we are the minority in here?”

  “Rob,” Daniel said, pointing, “let’s get their guns and ammo.”

  Rob looked down, and realised the opportunity. His movements slow and unhurried, he opened his back pack and handed Joe some aftershave. “Spray yourself all over. No sudden or fast movements. They won’t be interested in you if you don’t smell human.”

  They knelt next to the hapless officers, and began denuding them of their arms and ammo pouches. Janet and the kids had arrived next to them.

  “Danny, they’re looking at us,” Janet muttered.

  Daniel looked up, and the skin on his scalp physically crawled. Everyone queuing at the nearest check-in desk was staring at them. His jaw dropped, this was one audience he could do without. He’d never faced so many of them before. His muscles had gone rigid, fear taking a hold of him.

  “Rob, I think it’s time to be gone.” The tone of Daniel’s voice caught Rob’s attention, and he looked up to see the problem they were now faced with.

  “Hmm. You’re not wrong, buddy. Never fucking stops, does it?” he asked rhetorically. As a single group, they all began shuffling slowly towards the departure gates. Janet was holding the kids’ hands tightly, Rob and Daniel standing either side. Joe, new to this brazen technique of hiding in plain view, was sweating profusely, while trying to stay as close as was reasonable. Fortunately, the aftershave was strong and he, too, was ignored.

  At the gates, they found the FastTrack entrance. Due to its more infrequent use, it was deserted, while the other gates were clogged with vacantly starring zombies. Walking towards the gate, a screeching howl sounded from behind them. The shock of the noise forced all their heads to turn towards the sound. A man, or what was left of him, had been trailing them at a distance, curiosity at this strange group compelling him to follow, and he now decided they were definitely food. His strident calls had attracted the attention of the thousands queuing at the desks. Instinctively, they seemed to understand his message, and turned to face the fugitives. One by one, they woke from their torpor and began to follow the small, huddled group.

  “Shit, now I know what a lobster feels like in a tank at a restaurant,” Rob said. “Move! Get through the gate.” He was pushing them through the gateway, none too gently; Daniel followed behind in case a cheetah emerged from the throng. Once through, they slammed the entrance doors, made from reinforced, frosted glass, and so obliterating the view of the massing hoards. The relief of the barrier didn’t last long; shadows of people, crowding the length of the glass wall, darkened the area in which they found themselves.

  They turned around to face the departure area. Small numbers of dead were wandering around, sitting in the Starbucks, Garfunkels and other fast food areas, mimicking normality.

  “Let’s get moving. Do you know what gate your flight was supposed to be at?” Daniel faced Joe.

  “I think it’s 104. We were supposed to have been bussed through, not come in this way.” He peered closely at the departures board. “Look, it’s marked up, third one down.”

  They turned to look, and there it was: Americas United, flight AU342, direct to Washington.

  “Sight for sore eyes,” Rob whispered under his breath.

  “Too bloody right,” Danny replied. Looking around, he saw a sign indicating the direction they needed to take to get to the gate. Ten minutes walking time, the sign said. Bet we do it in less, he told himself. A loud crack came from behind, as the glass wall began to succumb to the weight of zombies now pressing on the other side.

  “Let’s go,” Rob urged. They moved off, desperately trying to maintain a slow gait, mimicking their enemy. All they wanted to do was run like hell. “Walk, everybody. When we get to the narrower gangways, we can pick up speed, I reckon.”

  With an almighty crash, the glass divider finally gave way, and a victorious moaning rose in a crescendo from behind.

  “Fuck that, let’s run!” Joe shouted, and lit out ahead of them. The rest took up his example, and they crashed through small groups of loitering dead, bowling them aside like tenpins. The kids squealed, partly in fear, part excitement. Between Janet and Daniel, they held their hands, and carried-dragged the children at an adult pace. Rob followed behind, guarding against fast ones.

  They arrived at the bridge built to take passengers to the new building, their destination. It was very tall, designed to allow the largest aeroplanes to pass under it easily, on their way in and out of the airport. The escalator was still running, but no-one could see what was at the top; it was a long way up.

  “I’ll go ahead, and check it’s clear,” Rob said, “you stay here and make sure we’re safe from behind.” Daniel nodded agreement, and Rob leaped up the escalator’s stairs, two at a time, until he neared the top. Crouching, rifle raised, Rob allowed the escalator to raise him towards the final goal. As he reached the summit, the sun caught him in its dying rays, bathing him in an orange-red glow. He fired a single shot, and then stood on the upper platform, carefully looking around the scene. Turning, he waved for them to follow.

  Having caught their breath while waiting, they now raced up to the top. Walking quickly across the bridge, they caught a glimpse of an enormous plane, clearly docked at their gate. They hurried down the stairs on the other side, past the dead zombie that Rob had dispatched, afraid to be left behind at the last moment. Once they reached the waiting area, they could see immediately that the plane was indeed the one they were aiming for, its logo emblazoned on the side. Problem was, they weren’t the only ones. The waiting area was full of more undead.

  “Bugger,” Daniel whispered. They all stood stock still, praying their aftershave and perfume was still effective. “Now we walk like the dead,” Daniel muttered, “like your life depends on it.” Amazing how so many everyday expressions had a basis in fact. The irony of this particular expression wasn’t lost on any of them.

  Slowly they edged their way forward, towards the gate, and the quay that was connected to the plane. Many of the dead were seated; young, old, they were all there, waiting patiently for the announcement to board; the call they were never going to get. The three staff manning the desk were in position, rictus airline smiles evident on their cadaverous faces. All had sustained injuries to their exposed skin: faces, throats, or arms. Clearly they had been infected through bites, probably while doing their jobs, here at the gate. Poor bastards, Daniel thought.

  They got to the door, which was sealed shut, a code pad next to it offering access to those in the know. Above it was a phone, connected directly to the plane at the end of the quay. Wondering how to get past the security, Daniel’s thoughts were interrupted by the phone, its shrill sound making him jump.

  All eyes turned in the direction of the sound, not least the many dead passengers eager to board at last. Daniel picked up the handset, and the ringing stopped.

  “Yes?”

  “Who’s this?” the voice asked.

  “One of the passengers. You might like to let us aboard, I think we are your last to arrive.”

  “Where’s Sarah? The duty manager. She should be up there.”

  “She’s not available right now,” he answered as quietly as possible. Some of the dead were standing up, not sure whether they were about to board, or feast. “There are six of us here, and we’d really like to come aboard. Like, now.” He was trying to remain calm, trying not to cause panic on the plane. If they clo
sed their door, it would be over.

  Joe made his way to the front, and took the handset from Daniel, with a confident ‘I’ll sort it’ look on his face.

  “I’m Joe Byron, I’m supposed to be on this flight. I’m from the American Embassy, a diplomat. You’ll find my name on the manifest.” He waited a moment. “Hello?” He looked perplexed, the line was dead. His voice had risen during the exchange, and now the dead were hemming them in, way too close for comfort.

  “Fuck this,” Daniel said and aimed his pistol at the lock. On the third shot, it gave way, and they charged down the quay to the door of the plane. Daniel could hear firing coming from behind; Rob was busy keeping the determined passengers at bay. The captain was standing at the door, a belligerent look on his face. Another male member of the crew was standing off to one side, ready to assist.

  “Get ready to shut the fucking door!” Daniel shouted at the captain.

  Seeing Daniel brandishing a gun and shouting, he perceived him, and those running behind, as a threat. With an urgency driven by fear, he began to pull the door closed, desperate to prevent an armed attack on his aircraft.

  “Let us in first!” Daniel shouted at him, raising his gun to make the point. Seeing the weapon being aimed at him, the captain backed off, hands held up, and the last remaining six normal people in England, or so it seemed, careered through the door. Rob and Daniel took up a defensive position as the captain, now realising what was going on, pressed a button on the quay controls, and it began to move away from the aeroplane. He jumped back into the plane as the first zombie arrived; it promptly tried to chase him across the widening gap. The howling monster fell forward, its head smashing into the fuselage, and back-flipped onto the tarmac below. Having followed their prey down the quay, more appeared and also tried to jump the widening gap, like toothpaste being squeezed from a tube. They slowly formed a writhing pile of undead beneath the A380.

  The small group of survivors gathered themselves, the children holding Daniel and Janet’s hands as if a family unit, and watched as the captain closed the only open door on the plane, sealing them from the horrors outside. Never had Daniel felt such a feeling of relief flood through him. They were safe, for now. That would have to do.

  Chapter 14

  Zombies on a Plane (Yeah, I know, but what else could it be called?)

  Securing the exit, the captain turned around to look at his new guests, unsure of what had just happened. They looked harmless enough, apart from the guns, of course. What a motley bunch: a couple of scruffy kids, a stressed looking woman, two blokes that seemed like they’d be more at home behind a desk than hijacking an aircraft, definitely not terrorists. And the last one had to be the diplomat, if that is what he actually was. He certainly looked worse for wear.

  “So, my name is Captain Morgan. Who are you?” Daniel became temporary spokesperson, feeling guilty for pointing his gun at their saviour.

  “Hi,” he began, “my name is Daniel. This is my wife, Janet; these two are Penny and Sam. Over here is my friend, Rob, and a fellow compatriot of his, Joe. Byron, wasn’t it?” he directed the question at the diplomat.

  “Yes, Daniel. Thanks.” Joe took over the introductions. “Joe Byron, diplomat,” he said, holding out his hand. The captain automatically shook it. “These people saved my life, and I’d like to return the favour. Can they come with us to the USA?”

  “If that’s what they want, then of course they can. We appear to have plenty of available seating. And I’m sure as heck not opening that door again.” He turned to the rest. “Hello, everyone. Welcome aboard Flight AU342, direct to, well, wherever they will let us land in America. If they let us land.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Joe asked, his voice less certain.

  “I’ll lay the facts out for ya,” Morgan said. “We missed our slot outta here; we haven’t been given a new one, so most likely we’ll have to take off illegally.”

  Janet interrupted. “You can do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s the easy part. The problems start when approaching the US coast. Without authorisation, it’s probable they’ll want to shoot us down.”

  “Would they do that?” Joe asked. “Of course, they would, stupid,” he said, answering his own question.

  “So, is it wise to try?” Daniel asked.

  “To be quite honest, I’d rather take my chances over there, than remain here. From what I’ve seen, I don’t think there’s much left for us in this place. I was instructed to take some folks back home and, with or without them, I’m going back.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be saying something uplifting, Captain?” Rob asked, smiling.

  “I’m working on it,” the captain replied, returning the smile. “In the meanwhile, you can make yourselves comfortable, pretty much anywhere on the plane. And secure your weapons, please. We don’t want an accidental discharge. That really would ruin our day.”

  He turned to the purser, who had walked up to the group while the captain spoke.

  “Hey, Becky. These folk need seats, and probably something to eat and drink, certainly the kids. We won’t be getting any more passengers.” The children were wilting fast; both were almost asleep on their feet. The adults weren’t much better. The sudden release of tension, feeling safe, at least for a while, had left them drained of any desire, but to sleep. It had been a long day.

  “Sure. Follow me, folks. Gosh, someone’s wearing some strong aftershave,” she said, noticing the smell washing off the group like a fog.

  “That’d be the kids,” Janet replied, smiling for the first time since the morning.

  While the captain returned to the cockpit to discuss the turn of events with his first officer, Daniel and the rest were shown into first class.

  “Make yourselves comfortable, there are a few more people back there, but that’s all. The crew outnumber the passengers on this flight.”

  Collapsing into the most comfortable chairs most of them had ever encountered, three of the six fell asleep immediately. Joe sat away from the group, a strange reaction considering their circumstances, but Daniel let it go. Maybe he was just a private person. Rob sat down with a sigh and immediately began to dial Sandra on his mobile phone. Daniel stroked the back of Janet’s hand, happy they were on board a plane they never really expected even to find, let alone be allowed on. He remained awake, needing to work out their next move. As the purser walked past, Daniel caught her wrist to get her attention.

  “Hey, Becky, can you take me to see the captain? I need to speak with him urgently.”

  “He’s kinda busy right now. Can it wait until we’re airborne?”

  “No, not really. But if it helps, I’ll leave my weapons here.”

  He placed his pistol beside the sleeping Janet, and placed his rifle across his seat, next to her.

  Visibly relaxing at the gesture, Becky led the way to the cockpit. She spoke briefly into the handset positioned outside the door, and then keyed in the security code.

  The door clicked open, and Daniel walked in. The cockpit was enormous, way bigger than he expected. You could house half a dozen people in here, he thought, unlike previous generations of aircraft.

  The captain turned around, looking at the interloper.

  “What can I do ya for? Danny isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes. Captain, I know you’re the one in charge here, but we really need to get this bird off the ground, soonest.”

  “I’m just waiting for a take-off slot, why?”

  “Because, if I’m right, you are looking at one of only six uninfected people in the south east of England, outside you and your crew. It certainly looked like we’re the only survivors when we were out there,” he said, pointing out the window for emphasis. “There may be a few others, but we didn’t see them, and we travelled out from Central London, and then around the busiest motorway in the UK. No-one seems to be alive, or certainly not what you’d call alive.”

  “What about in the airport?”


  “We didn’t see a single soul that wasn’t infected. There are thousands of people in the terminals, all desperate to get at anything still warm. It was a miracle we managed to get through, quite frankly.”

  “Sounds like a warzone out there,” Morgan said.

  “It isn’t a war, so much as annihilation. Us live ones are in the minority, right now.” Daniel peered out the window next to the captain, and could see across the runway to the car park at the other end of the airport. “They’re even running across your runway, and feasting on their victims. Look.”

  Disbelieving, the captain peered more closely than before, finally seeing the nightmare scenario for what it was, the appalling horror being played out right in front of him. His jaw dropped in horror, when he realised what his wits had refused to see previously.

  “BB. Have you been able to make contact with Ops or Ground lately?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the scene. A sense of urgency was in his voice now, he somehow suspected that waiting for clearance was, in his heart, just going through the motions.

  “No, Captain. All I’m getting is static.”

  “Right, BB, let’s get out of here. Danny, would you return to your seat, please?”

  “Would you mind if I stayed? It’s years since I was last in a cockpit, and never one like this.”

  “Were you a pilot?”

  “Yes, private only, but I occasionally had the chance, pre-nine eleven, of course, to fly in the supernumerary seat.”

  “Well, in that case, be my guest. You can call Becky on the handset next to you and let her know we’re preparing for take-off.” He turned back to the business in hand. “How you going, BB? Ready to rock and roll?”

  Working through their extensive checklists, these days found on their console screens, rather than on traditional cardboard or paper, the pre-start procedures were surprisingly quick for such a massive aeroplane. Daniel felt the vibration of the engines spooling up, and in no time at all they were ready to depart. As they were independent of ground handling, BB engaged reverse thrust to move back from the gate. Adding small amounts of power, the plane began to move, the thrust from the four Rolls Royce engines making the large glass panels in the terminal shake and bow. Adding a little more juice, the aircraft began moving properly backwards now; at the same time several panels of glass imploded into the terminal.