The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 1)

by Luke Duffy

  By now, he was howling like a wild animal, feeling his determination rise inside of him and drawing on all the reserves that his body could produce to keep him moving forwards and upwards. His powerful legs worked like pistons, springing him up from one step to the next, as his shoulders barged the infected out of his way and ploughed the road ahead.

  As he reached the final turn, he heard voices up above him, quickly followed by thundering gunshots that caused the air pressure in the stairwell suddenly to increase and push against his eardrums. He saw more corpses fall and tumble down the hard steps ahead of him, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

  “Check your fire,” he screamed up towards the rooftop without slowing his pace. “Check your fire. Live man coming through.”

  The gunfire continued, but none of the rounds came close to him as he surged forward, trusting the men above him in their skill and accuracy. All the time, he continued to call to them, making them aware of his location and that he was on his way.

  More rounds snapped and thumped over his head, shattering the windows behind him and showering him with broken plaster from the walls.

  Half way up the final flight, a small form turned and hurled itself towards him. It was the body of a child, no older than ten or eleven, Bull guessed. Her hospital gown was covered with blood, and in the split-second that it took for her to close on him, he saw the hideous wounds that had killed her, and subsequently brought her back.

  Her throat and chest were splayed open, revealing the bones of her ribs, chest plate and spinal column. Her long dark hair was matted with the coagulated blood that was smeared over her face. Her mouth opened incredibly wide as she leapt for him, reaching out with her grasping fingers.

  Bull swept her aside with the back of his fist. The blow landed against the side of her face, snapping the bones of her neck and sending her over the bannister to the floor below, where she landed with a wet smack.

  He raced up the last steps through the falling bodies, with his head down and arms tucked into his sides.

  Suddenly, he felt like he was floating.

  His body seemed to become weightless and he glided upwards with ease, as though being transported on an escalator while his legs continued to scale the stairs effortlessly. Then he noticed the pressure he was suddenly feeling on his shoulders and upper arms and looked up to see the faces of two men, pulling him up the final few steps as others gave them fire support and continued to drop the infected around them.

  “About time you lot showed up,” Bull hollered over the racket of the guns and helicopter. “I thought you’d forgotten me. Wankers…”

  “Better late than never,” Marty screamed back at him with a grin, dragging him through the doorway and out on to the roof, towards the waiting helicopter.

  The bright sunlight and clean air assaulted his eyes and lungs. Forcing him to cough and sputter after being stranded in the dead hospital for so long.

  Bull’s body became heavy.

  His legs were like lead and his energy seemed completely to desert him. His head began to spin and his heart raced, but he smiled broadly and could not stop smiling as his friends bundled him into the waiting aircraft.

  He collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath, but still grinning from ear to ear and roaring with laughter.

  Stan appeared over him, staring down into his face.

  “Are you okay, dick-head?” He shouted as the pitch of the engine behind them rose.

  Bull could not reply. He felt too weak and the laughter that he could not abate seemed to be using every ounce of energy he had left.

  “Bull, listen to me,” Stan called, slapping his friend across the face. “Are you okay? Have you been bitten?”

  Bull stared back at him, his face still creased with hilarity and spattered with blood. He shook his head, unable to speak.

  “You really are a dick-head, Bull,” Stan screamed into his face, “but it’s good to see you’re still in one piece.”

  As the Black Hawk took off, Bull’s head sank back against the bulkhead and within seconds, sleep snatched him away into a deep black pit.

  18

  Samantha had been informed that the team was on their way back and had rushed to meet them, but before reaching the command centre, she had been summoned in to see General Thompson with the utmost urgency.

  General Thompson, though she had never had cause to fear him personally, terrified her. She had seen him reduce men and women to bumbling wrecks, just by the manner in which he spoke to them. Should anyone incur his wrath, it was rare to see the offender walk away from the man without being on the brink of a nervous breakdown. His appearance alone was enough to scare most people, and even the mighty Bull avoided him like the plague and made every excuse not to have to face him.

  The only person that she knew who seemed to be completely immune to the General’s fearsome staring eyes, deep harsh voice, and haunting features, was Stan. They had both known each other for a long time and rumour had it, Thompson had once been Stan’s Platoon Commander when he was a young private soldier, having just arrived from the recruit depot, but no one knew for sure.

  After a half-hearted dressing down from the high-ranking officer, who was well aware of the situation and the team’s actions, Samantha had been sent on her way with a warning of serious consequences if flight-plans and orders were ever changed again without his written authorisation.

  As she left his office, eager to see if the men had all made it back, unharmed, The Prince of Darkness called her back.

  “Oh, Captain Tyler,” his gruff voice growled after her, making the hair on her neck stand up and goose bumps to form on her flesh.

  “Yes, sir?” She asked as she turned, bringing her body into the position of attention with her arms pulled into the sides, knees braced, and eyes staring at the wall behind the General’s head.

  Suddenly, she felt like she was about to experience his rage first hand and that she had not gotten off lightly after all.

  The General smiled slightly, causing his gaunt features to crease, creating deep shadows, and making him appear sinister and ghoulish.

  If there was ever a man that was not supposed to smile, it was General Thompson, she could not help thinking to herself.

  “Give my regards to Stan and his boys.”

  Samantha paused at the door to the Operation’s Room and gathered her composure, breathing deeply and concentrating on trying to appear casual, even indifferent. She did not want them to see her flustered or excited. That would open up a huge chink in the emotional armour that she had fought so hard to maintain over the years.

  She brushed her hair back from her face and rubbed her sweating palms against the material of her trousers. With a final deep breath, she pushed the heavy door and entered into the command centre.

  Her eyes immediately fell upon Stan and his men, still wearing their equipment and carrying their weapons, reloaded and resupplied, ready for their new task. Her face twitched as she stiffened the muscles of her cheeks and clenched her jaw, holding back the smile of relief that threatened to burst through to the surface. Her gaze fell on each one of them in turn, and she prayed that her elation did not show in her expressions.

  In the Operation’s Room, Samantha could see that all the team were now accounted for. The only person missing was Nick. Her heart gave a resounding thump against her chest wall at the memory of the jovial northerner, and about what had happened to him.

  Bull was standing by the refreshments table that was used to sustain the operation’s staff in their caffeine addiction. Already, there was a pile of empty water bottles piling up around his feet, mixed in with the discarded wrappers of chocolate bars and energy snacks. He stood there, oblivious to everything around him, cramming as much chocolate into his face as his mouth would hold and washing it down with large gulps of fluid.

  He let out a large belch that echoed up to the ceiling, unseen somewhere high above them in the darkness and turned to see that there were no bottle
s of fresh water left. Instead, he switched his attention to the cartons of fruit juice in his mission to quench his thirst and replenish his body of their vital fluids and nutrients.

  “I’ll never turn my nose up at Cranberry juice again,” he gasped after sucking dry the second carton and tearing into another.

  “You finally with us, Bull, or have you got to go off doing your own thing, again?” Samantha asked, sarcastically.

  She watched him as he assaulted the refreshments, like an ogre from a fairy-tale at the dinner table. She knew her remarks were about to be retorted, but he would not be the man he was if he did not fire back with something. She thought highly of Bull, despite his insensitivity and brash mannerisms. In fact, his personality was what she loved about him, but again, as far as Bull was concerned, she viewed him with disdain.

  Stan and his men were like brothers to her. They fought and argued incessantly, but she loved them all dearly.

  “Lick the back of my balls, Sam,” Bull replied between gulps and without looking in her direction.

  “He’s been drinking shitty water for the past few days,” Brian said, in way of an explanation to Samantha for Bull’s lack of manners and uncouth response.

  However, they all knew very well that the large man did not need to be stranded for a number of days, drinking toilet water and surrounded by dead people, to be the way he was. Bull was naturally rough around his edges.

  “I’ll tell you this,” Bull finally gasped, seemingly having had his fill and wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “There are some right inconsiderate arseholes out there. No matter what is going on around you, you can at least flush the chain. Dirty bastards. And it was the ladies toilets.”

  Bob saw an opportunity to cross examine his friend and show everyone a glimpse into the inner workings of Bull’s mind.

  “So, the whole building is suddenly overrun with dead people that have come back to life and would like nothing better than to eat you, but before they made a run for it, they should’ve flushed? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Bull pondered the question for a moment, and then nodded with absolute sincerity.

  “It only takes a second to yank the chain,” he grunted.

  Bobby was grinning broadly as he spoke, always finding Bull’s reasoning a great source of amusement.

  “So, if it was you sitting there, and you had a choice between wiping and flushing, what would it be?”

  “Flush. No one will see your shitty arse, but they won’t miss the big dump you left behind for them.”

  Danny began to laugh, unable to hold it back any longer.

  “What would it matter? No one is going to see it, or even care.”

  Bull turned to him and fixed him with a harsh stare.

  “I saw it, and I cared. I had to drink that water, Danny.”

  “What’s the matter, Bull?” Brian added. “You never been camping?”

  “Obviously, not the way that you like to go camping, you heathen.”

  “What if it was a stubborn one and refused to go on the first flush?” Bobby continued, wanting to gain as much entertainment from the conversation that he could before the briefing began and their serious heads were donned.

  “I’d wait,” Bull nodded.

  “You’d wait for the cistern to refill, while reanimated dead people are banging at the door, and then flush the toilet to make sure that no one is offended by a turd?”

  “Hey, you have your principles, and I have mine,” Bull stated passionately as he ripped open another chocolate bar and stuffed the entire thing it into his mouth, signalling that the debate had come to a close.

  Five minutes later, the doors of the Operation’s Room were flung open and in walked the General, cast in shadow and looking ominous as two smaller officers walked on either side of him. Bobby watched the scene and in his mind, compared it to the entrance of a bad guy from a movie, when he appears on screen for the first time.

  He wondered to himself, if that was the actual intention of General Thompson, to command the room with his presence, without even saying a word. Or, whether he really was the Prince of Darkness.

  Bobby smiled at the thought.

  As the General moved to the centre of the room and turned to face the assembled team and operation’s staff, everybody focussed their attention upon him. He was easily a head and shoulders above most of the people around him, and his extremely slender frame made him appear even taller. With everyone seated, he seemed to tower up into the dark recesses of the ceiling.

  “Stan,” Thompson began in his rumbling voice and staring down at the team commander. “Are you and your men ready?”

  Stan nodded, and that was the extent of the formalities. Thompson did not need any more information than that, and Stan knew that he did not need to give any. They were both men of action, and they liked to be straight to the point.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I will keep this very brief. The situation of enemy forces is this virus has gone global. I’m sure you’re all well aware of that, but what some of you may not know, is that whatever it is that is making the dead reanimate, is in the air. No matter how they die, all bodies of the recently dead will return and attack anything that is living.”

  A number of people shifted in their seats at the revelation about the virus and their lack of ability to escape it.

  “Nowhere on the planet is faring well and the US, especially, is having trouble trying to contain the problem. Much of the southern hemisphere is now in the dark and Europe and North America is following close behind.”

  Thompson cleared his throat before moving on to the next heading of the briefing process.

  “Situation friendly forces, as some of you are already aware, the mainland is being evacuated of all necessary personnel that are vital to the continued war against this plague.

  “To be blunt, we’re losing and as a result, making a strategic withdrawal to regroup and lick our wounds. Our armed forces, fighting in the Middle East and Asia, have been ordered to pull out and return to the UK. Until they arrive, we have to make do with what we have and hold our positions until reinforced.”

  General Thompson paused to allow his words to sink in.

  A few heads turned to look at one another in surprise, but for the majority, they either had prior knowledge, or they had seen the writing on the wall for themselves and were not surprised that the government had come to the decision they had.

  “Most of the cabinet,” General Thompson continued, eyeing everyone in the seats in front of him, “has already left, and the majority of land, sea and air forces have either withdrawn, or are in the process of withdrawing. Within the next forty-eight hours, the mainland will be clear of all essential personnel.

  “Some small units will stay behind within specially erected fortresses to keep the pilot-light on, providing us with intelligence updates and acting as collection centres for any survivors. Ships and aircraft, under the command of the newly created MJOC, Mainland Joint Operations Command, have begun evacuating as many of the civilian population as they can, but do not be in any doubt, millions will be left to fend for themselves on the mainland. A tragedy that could’ve been avoided if those politicians had heeded our advice from the very beginning, before things were out of control.

  “So, this is how it is, and that is the general outline of the current situation.”

  He took a few paces to the side, his hands placed on his hips and staring at the floor, waiting for any comments or questions from the group.

  No one spoke.

  “All staff members are instructed to gather their family members and report back here before nineteen-hundred hours, the day after tomorrow. If you don’t arrive, we will assume that you’re dead. It’s as simple as that.

  “This is a war, people, be sure of that,” he growled, pointing one of his long bony fingers towards the door. “Not the sort that we expected, but nevertheless, we are facing a real enemy. One that is more dangerous than anything we h
ave ever faced before.”

  Gerry stepped out from the shadows by the door, carrying a piece of paper in his hand and began to read off a list of names.

  “You are dismissed. Go to your homes and gather what you need. You are to report back here before nineteen-hundred hours on the twelfth, ready for evacuation.”

  The majority of the assembled rose to their feet and exited the room. Left behind, were Gerry, Samantha, and two other staff members, along with the team.

  Stan sat up in his seat.

  “What’s our role in all of this, General?”

  Thompson immediately focussed his attention on him, understanding that the men were anxious to know what their task would be.

  “Stan,” he began, “before you join us on the Isle of Wight, you have a special task to carry out. Gerry will fill you in on the service and support side of things, but you and your team will be travelling north immediately after this briefing.”

  19

  As the Black Hawk transported the team north, evidence of the breakdown of civilisation and the spread of the virus was apparent for all to see. Flying at two-thousand feet above ground level, the men had a bird’s eye view of the destruction, and they could literally see the world and its inhabitants crumbling beneath them.

  It was survival of the fittest and in many cases, the wealthiest.

  In spite of the global situation, greed was still a driving force behind many human beings and corporations attempted to cash in on people’s desire to survive. The huge amounts of money the big firms made in the final months of mankind’s dominance on the planet, unbeknown to them, would be worth nothing in the new world that would follow the fall of humanity. A world spawned from the deaths of the very people that the governments and large firms failed to help, because the average person could not afford to pay the high prices placed on rescue and survival.