by Luke Duffy
“I’m Matthew, and this is my wife and son, Emily and William,” he stated, in a voice that held more than a hint of trepidation.
One of the men stopped and handed the carton of orange juice that he had been glugging from, to the man standing next to him. He gasped and let out a stifled burp, then wiped his mouth on the back of his gloved hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, without bothering to introduce himself.
Matthew, once again, recognised the voice as the calm mannered, but intimidating man who had called to them to let him in. Already, Matthew was scared of him. He had seen nothing of his features and heard only a few of his words, but the man had an aura of terror about him and it chilled him to the bone.
Another of them stepped forward. In the beams of light that flitted about the room, Matthew was able to see the camouflaged patterned vest that he wore and the multitude of pouches attached to it, stuffed with rifle magazines. His face, covered with grime and sweat, did not appear threatening. Although he did not smile as such, his eyes did not convey any malicious intent.
“I’m Bobby,” he said and then turned to his left, indicating the man with the frightening voice who had gone back to draining the last of the orange juice. “And that scary old bastard is our leader, Stan. He’s a big teddy-bear once you get to know him.”
“I’m Matthew,” he nodded in return.
“Yes,” Bobby replied, “you’ve already told us that.”
A number of flashes emitted from the rear of the room, and shortly afterwards, an orange glow lit the kitchen. One of the men had found a large candle and placed it onto the kitchen work surface, illuminating him from below and making his hard features dance with the flickering flames.
“That’s better,” his gruff voice snorted, clearly pleased with the difference that the dim light from the candle had made. “Now I can see what I’m eating. I just threw a fucking Oxo cube down my neck, thinking it was chocolate.”
Matthew recognised the man as the huge bulk he had found himself wedged behind and pressed up against the wall by when they entered.
Bobby took another step closer, his face shrouded with shadow and nothing but blackness. He shone his light over the three family members and paused when he saw Emily.
“Looks like someone was talking, when they should’ve been listening, eh?”
Emily raised her hand and covered the large bruise on her cheek bone and turned away from the scrutinising eyes of the soldier standing before her.
Bobby turned his light to her husband and glared at him accusingly. Matthew, feeling ashamed and afraid, looked down at his feet.
“You have an infected in the house. A loved-one, I presume?”
Matthew turned to him, suddenly feeling defensive.
“Yes,” he nodded, “my daughter, Paula. She’s sick.”
“Sick? Is that what you think this thing is? She has a cold or something?” Someone asked sarcastically from the rear of the room.
“She’s infected, Matthew,” Bobby continued. “Believe me, there is no cure for this, and she won’t get better. You saw the news?”
He nodded, feeling his throat tighten and the atmosphere in the room change from one of indifference to one of impending danger.
“This virus is like nothing the world has seen, mate. Believe me, because I’ve seen most of them. How long ago did she become sick?”
“Two days ago,” he croaked, stepping back and reaching out for his wife’s hand for support. “She got sick two days ago. She became uncontrollable, so we tied her up and locked her in the space beneath the stairs.”
Bobby glanced at their group leader.
Stan nodded, giving a silent command.
“Okay,” Bobby began with a sigh, “now listen. You’ve seen the broadcasts, but probably refuse to believe them, right?”
He did not wait for a reply and instead, nodded towards the door leading into the hallway, indicating the outside world.
“Those people, out on the street, they’re dead. They’re not sick, and they won’t get better. Believe me, we’ve seen enough of it to know and we’ve already lost one of our guys to those things.”
“Paula’s not dead,” William said protectively, his voice breaking with despair as he clung to his mother’s waist, “she’s just very ill and when this is all over, she’ll be okay.”
Bobby shook his head.
“I’m really sorry, little man, but you need to understand.”
He looked back at Matthew.
“You all need to understand. This won’t be over. This thing is worldwide and even the big and powerful countries like the US and Russia are crumbling. Anyone that catches the virus, will die. Anyone coming into contact with the people carrying the virus, will die. Your daughter, isn’t your daughter anymore. Anything that she ever was, died with her, and now she is just like those things out there.”
“I understand that it’s hard to accept, but it’s the truth and you need to accept it, or you won’t survive this,” another voice offered from the darkness of the kitchen.
Emily began to sob and buried her face against her husband’s chest, feeling her legs weaken as what she had already known, was spelled out to her. She had watched the broadcasts and listened to the doctors, but when Paula had fallen ill, she refused to believe that her little girl could be taken away from her and become one of the monsters that were attacking people and spreading their infection across the world.
Matthew could see the change in the attitude of the men. They had gone from one of apathy towards the family, to becoming completely focussed on them. He began to fear that they were being viewed as a hindrance, or even a threat.
“What are you going to do?” He asked, swallowing hard as a tall slender figure stepped forward from the rear of the group.
“I’m sorry,” Bobby continued sympathetically. “Our only form of transport is stuck in the road. We managed to get some fuel siphoned, but those things are stopping us from reaching it. You saw how your daughter’s screams attracted every one of them from the surrounding area. Right now, she’s quiet, and hopefully, those things will lose interest and go away, but we can’t risk her making more noise and bringing them back. Plus, she’s too dangerous to keep in the house. If she got loose, she could infect us all.”
Matthew stared back at them, watching the tall man approach and then, saw the glint of the knife he held in his hand. Shaking his head, he stepped back into the doorway, shielding his wife and son behind him.
“No,” he pleaded, “no, please. You can’t.”
The men followed and closed in on them. In a flash, two of them had forced the family members into the rear dining room and blocked the door with their bodies. Matthew, suddenly feeling like an animal backed into a corner by a hungry predator, charged forward.
Before he reached his target, a hand shot up and caught him, stopping him in his tracks and gripping him by the throat. Immediately, he became completely helpless as the fingers closed around his windpipe, squeezing him like a vice for a moment, and then tossing him back towards his family.
“Don’t,” the voice growled down at him, “I’ll kill you if I have to.”
The three of them huddled together, cowering beneath the menacing shadow of the huge man standing over them.
Bobby pushed his way through into the room and struck the man shaped mountain across the chest with the back of his hand.
“Fucking hell, Bull,” he snarled, “you’re scaring the shit out of them.”
“Sorry, I just didn’t want them to see.” Bull replied innocently.
Bobby reached down and grabbed William from his parents, picking him up in his arms and seating him against his hip as he pulled out a chair from the dining table.
“Here,” he said as he sat down with him across his lap, “do you want to see something really cool, William?”
The boy nodded.
Bobby angled his LED light and shone it into his own face. His lips parted and he stretched his
head backwards as he pointed the light inside, illuminating the interior of his mouth.
“You see that?” He asked, pointing to the rear molar on the right with his tongue.
William looked, stooping his head to get a better view, curious to see what Bobby was trying to show him.
“It’s a silver tooth,” he announced, thinking that he had seen all there was to see and feeling disappointed.
“Nope,” Bobby replied with a smile, knowing that the child would not have the slightest idea of what he was looking at. “It’s titanium, the strongest metal in the world. Can you guess why I have a tooth made from titanium, William?”
The boy shook his head.
“I have a titanium tooth in my head because…, and this is the really cool bit…, underneath it, there’s a little bomb.”
William’s eyes grew with intrigue and doubt as he pulled away, smiling and shaking his head, looking to his parents for them to confirm that the man was lying.
“Honestly, it’s a little bomb,” Bobby continued with sincerity, “I flick off the titanium casing and then bite down on the primer. We all have one.”
He looked over to Bull, who in turn, replied with an enthusiastic nod.
“Why would you have a bomb under your tooth?” William asked with scepticism.
Bobby smiled and leaned in close to him, patting him on the back and making it seem as though he was about to share something of extreme importance with him.
“So that if the bad guys catch me, they can’t make me tell them all my secrets,” he answered in a loud whisper.
“Actually, that is really cool.” William concluded. “Are you guys like…, Call of Duty: Black Ops, or something?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Outside, in the hallway, while William was too busy being distracted by Bobby and his ‘cool tooth’, Matthew and his wife heard the door to the cupboard beneath the stairs being opened. Immediately, there were a number of grunts, growls and snorts, joined with the sound of a struggle.
They knew what was happening, but something held them in place, stopping them from doing anything against the men around them. It was not fear of the soldiers, or what they would do to them. It was acceptance. They had even considered doing something similar, the day before when Paula’s body had become lifeless, knowing what would happen to her as the virus moved into its next stage. However, despite their knowledge of what was coming, the love they felt for the little girl who they had cherished and watched with pride and joy as she grew, prevented them from doing what was necessary.
Although their hearts were breaking as they listened to the unholy growls of Paula, gnashing her teeth as she struggled against the men who held her down, they knew that it would soon be over and she would be saved from her misery.
A few seconds later, the noise ceased and a heavy thud echoed into the dining room from the hallway.
Emily felt her heart become heavy in her chest, like a lead weight sitting inside her ribcage, and her stomach began to knot. Her shoulders slumped and her head sagged as her vision blurred with an ocean of tears.
“I knew she was dead,” she said quietly in a quivering voice and staring down at the floor. “She became ill two days ago, and by yesterday afternoon, she wasn’t breathing. We knew then that she was gone. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
Unable to do anything else, she broke down, sobbing for her daughter.
Stan stepped into the room and approached the mother of the young girl he had just helped to kill. He stopped and looked down at her, studying her for a while. Finally, he squatted, bringing his face down so that it was level with hers.
Reaching out, he lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers, showing a tenderness that no one else in the team had ever witnessed from him before.
“I’m sorry, Emily,” he said softly, causing the men around him to glance at one another with raised eyebrows and shrugging shoulders.
“We had to do it. It’s done and her suffering is over.”
24
“Okay,” Samantha said decisively, “we’re leaving. There’s nothing we can do for Stan and his team without power.”
She snatched up the Iridium phone and shone her light across to the opposite side of the table where Lieutenant Frakes stood, her pistol clutched tightly in her hand.
“Melanie, are you ready to go?”
She did not need to be asked twice, and she quickly fell into line behind Samantha as she made her way towards the door.
“Do you have comms with your co-pilot? Do they know what’s happening and that we’re on our way?”
Melanie shook her head, immediately realising that Samantha could not see her.
“They’re not answering, but it could be because of the layers of rock between us and them.”
“I really hope that’s all it is,” Samantha replied pessimistically.
She reached back, handing the torch to Melanie and freeing up both of her hands so that she could manipulate her rifle with better effect.
“Here, hold this.”
As Jonesy and Emma brought up the rear, the four of them silently crept out into the hallway. The entire bunker was in darkness and not even the back-up system indicator lights, usually glowing red, showed on any of the panels that they began to pass.
Above them, the gunfire had ceased. It had not lasted long and it was clear that the fight was lost. The infected were in, and the survivors could hear the footfalls of the rampaging dead making their way through the dark, wailing and moaning, and crashing into objects as they continued their blind search for their next victims.
“Stay close. Don’t get separated and for fuck sake, keep quiet,” Samantha whispered over her shoulder as she began to gingerly make her way along the corridor, keeping her body close to the cold damp wall on her left.
Another cry of pain and fear rang out from high above them. It lingered in the moist air and shook the four survivors to their cores as it rattled through their ears and clawed at their nerves. All of them knew that, eventually, the infected would find their way down the stairs, either deliberately, or by accident. It did not matter which. They just hoped that they could get out before it happened.
Somehow, their defences had been breached. Either they had succumbed to the combined weight of the swarming mass pressing against the blast doors on the top level, or someone had deliberately allowed them into the bunker.
Samantha knew that the doors would not fail due to the power shortage and she felt confident that even a million people pushing against the two inches of steel plating, could not force them to buckle out from their hinges.
She shuddered at the thought of someone deliberately compromising the integrity of their subterranean shelter.
What if they’re still here?
Their lights glimmered against the concrete walls, glistening against the tiny rivulets of water that seeped in due to their position below the Thames waterline. Patches of moss that were growing in the cracks stood out sharply, their vibrant greens contrasting distinctly against the dull grey of the skimmed walls.
A cool breeze, heavy with the smell of mould and decay, blew towards them from the far end of the corridor, confirming that somewhere high above them, the bunker doors lay open to the outside world.
Finally, as they slowly made their way through the oppressive darkness, surrounded by flickering shadows and the echoes of dripping water and crashing footsteps from the upper levels, Melanie’s light bounced from something that reflected dully up ahead of them. With a second sweep of the torch, they were able to see the metal railings of the staircase at the far end of the passageway.
Samantha paused and studied the steps for a moment. They were grated steel, running up for a short flight and abruptly turning back on themselves as they reached up towards the next level in the bunker. On the second level up and further along the corridor, they would find the tunnel that would lead them to the helicopter landing pad.
However, getting there
would be a different matter.
As she reached the bottom of the stairwell, Samantha could already hear the metallic clangs of dozens of feet stomping their way down the steel treads, descending from the upper floors. They echoed through the stairway, becoming louder and accompanied by the increasing symphony of vivacious growls and snorts from the infected as they drew nearer. More and more were joining in on the hunt, pounding their way down the staircase.
“Shit,” Samantha fizzed, her attention focussed on the stairs above them as she began to ascend. “They’re coming down. Keep it tight. We need to make it up to the next level before they cut us off.”
Melanie’s torch beam bounced from the walls as she raced up the stairwell behind Samantha. Jonesy and Emma were close behind her and she could hear their heavy breathing as they battled with their fear. The noise above them was growing louder by the second, heralding the approach of the infected. Melanie began to panic, believing that their escape would be blocked if they did not move faster.
“Come on, Sam,” she encouraged from behind, “we need to move.”
Samantha, almost blind to what was in front of her, was climbing the stairs as quickly as she could. Already, she had misplaced her footing a number of times, her boots slipping from the edge of the steps and almost sending her crashing into the hard steel plates. If she was not careful, she could very easily slip on the damp grating and find herself stranded with a broken ankle or worse, unconscious.
She reached the top of the first flight and turned the bend. She brought her rifle up, ready to fire at anything that came at her from the floor above them. For a moment, she was greeted with a wall of blackness, as Melanie had not yet turned the corner and illuminated the passageway for her.
Samantha moved forward through the darkness, taking small steps and feeling with the toes of her boots before placing each foot. It was impossible to see anything ahead of her and instead, she relied heavily on her hearing.
