The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling

by Iain Rob Wright

  “No. The power’s out in most places. The stations are undermanned and it’s not safe to run them without adequate staff. Things are…pretty bad all over, lad.”

  “No kidding.”

  “No, Brett. I mean things are far worse than they were even a few days ago when you came here. There’s no order left anymore. Lewis hasn’t received commands in almost forty-eight hours now. The men are getting restless.”

  Brett raised his eyebrow. “Why the hell are you telling me this?”

  The Lieutenant shrugged. “I suppose because I don’t think there’s going to be much difference soon between you and I.”

  “Then why are you keeping us in here?”

  “Believe me, you wouldn’t be any happier out here. There’s nothing but death and panic on the streets. People with the infection have started wandering around like crazed lunatics. The pavements are red with blood. Way I see it you people have it better than anyone. This stadium is a paradise in comparison.”

  Just then, Emily returned with armfuls of broomsticks and mop handles. They were as tall as her and it was a comical sight.

  “You want some help there, Em?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. Did you say you wanted them jammed in the turnstiles?”

  Brett took a step back from Lieutenant Barstow and nodded. “Yeah, make sure you jam them up nice and tight. If this is going to be our home, then we’re damn well going to protect it. You can tell your captain I said that, Lieutenant.”

  The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Will do. You all take care of yourselves.”

  Brett reorganised everyone and prepared to leave. He was even more confused about what to think of the army outside now. Lieutenant Bristow seemed a lot more trustworthy than his superior. In fact it seemed like the man barely considered himself even much of a soldier anymore. The rules had apparently changed for them al.

  It was a couple of days later when Brett heard the shots.

  Ethan was the first on his feet and alert. Brett could hear the man shouting from somewhere in the grounds. Ethan and those close to him slept in the executive boxes at the top of the ground, while the other small groups of people were dotted around the various stands. Steven and his daughter were alone in the Press Box. The little girl would moan and cry long into the night. Once or twice, her father had joined her.

  Brett got up from his bed on the floor of the East Stand staffroom. Emily was lying nearby and quickly sat up. The girl had been bedding down next to him for a couple of days now and had been getting gradually closer each night.

  “Did you hear that?” Brett asked her.

  “It was gunfire,” she said. “Least I think so. Is something going on outside?”

  Brett got to his feet. “Those bastards best not be trying to get inside.”

  Brett ran out of the East Stand and onto the pitch. The cold night air hit him in the face like a slap and he suddenly realised he was without a t-shirt. Reverend Long also stood on the pitch and Brett headed over to him.

  “Ah, young Brett. It appears we have some sort of commotion outside. Guns, I believe.”

  “You’re sure it’s coming from outside? Are the army trying to get in?”

  “I don’t know. Ethan just ran off to find out.”

  “Which way? I’m going after him.” Brett headed off in the direction Reverend Long indicated: the Clark Stand.

  When he got there, Ethan was squeezed up against the turnstiles and peering through into the darkness. There were more gunshots coming from outside, but they sounded distant.

  “What’s happening?” Brett asked as he moved up beside Ethan.

  “They’re shooting at each other. Can you believe that?”

  “Who are? The Army?”

  Ethan turned around, his eyes wide and white in the dark. “The Army, the Police, I can’t even tell, but they’re definitely taking shots at one another. I told you they were all dangerous. Well done for putting up the barricades.”

  “Thanks. Let me have a look what’s going on.”

  Ethan moved aside and allowed Brett up to the turnstiles. It was hard to see anything outside, except the jagged flashes of muzzle fire. The sound of bullets hitting steel and masonry were mixed with the sounds of men dying. Whatever had happened outside had turned lethal, but there would be no way to see what was going on until the sun came back up. There was no way Brett was going to shout out and draw attention to himself.

  “I’m going to keep guard,” said Brett. “Ethan, can you get some people to watch the other exits? I can’t see a thing out there, but we have to be ready if anybody tries to get inside.

  “They won’t try to get in here. Not tonight.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  Ethan thought about it and then nodded. “Okay.”

  Ethan and a few others headed back into the stadium, while Brett remained behind. It was only a couple minutes before Emily arrived to keep him company.

  “What do you think things will be like?” asked Emily, sitting on the floor beside him. “I mean, once this virus goes away and everything goes back to normal. So many people have died. Not just from the disease either.”

  Brett’s eyelids felt heavy, but he did his best to stay with the conversation. “I don’t know. I don’t think things will ever be normal again. For all we know, half the world could be dead right now. People have lost their families…lost everything.”

  “What have you lost, Brett?”

  “To be honest I had less to lose than most. I didn’t have many friends. My only family were my parents and we…we weren’t that close. I guess I’m lucky when I think about it.”

  “Nobody is lucky anymore. This has been hard on all of us. It’s not a contest for who has lost the most.”

  Brett nodded and smiled at her. Emily was annoying, but it seemed like her heart was in the right place. “So what happened to you before we all got together?”

  “I was at church with Reverend Long. I’d just lost my mom and I didn’t know what to do, so I went there. Couple days later a group of us decided to try and gather people up and come here.”

  “I reckon if you hadn’t done that most of us would be dead. I don’t think it’s safe out there anymore, not even at home.”

  “I don’t think so either. Still, I miss my bedroom, my bed…and I wish I’d taken my violin when I’d left. Or my piano if I had the strength of ten men to carry it. God I miss my piano.”

  Brett’s eyes widened. “You play music?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m…I was studying Music Theory at college. I can play violin, clarinet, piano, and a little bit of guitar. I was even in a little band me and some of the other girl’s had as a hobby.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “No, I’m not…pooping you!”

  Brett laughed. “I play guitar, too. Music is my life – at least my old life.”

  “Huh, maybe we can play together one day?”

  “Yeah,” said Brett. “I’d like that.”

  Emily smiled and leant her head on his shoulder. Brett was surprised to find out that he didn’t mind. In fact, within a few minutes they were both asleep, snoring besides the turnstiles while the gunfire outside continued.

  “Hey. Hey, Brett! Brett wake up, son. I need your help.”

  Brett opened his eyes slowly, not knowing if a dream had woken him, or something else entirely. When the steel turnstiles behind him rattled, he sat bolt upright with fright. So did Emily, who let out a girlish yelp as she scuttled away on her hands and knees.

  Lieutenant Bristow was at the gate. He was breathing in short stutters and bleeding from a wound in his shoulder.

  Bret headed over to the man to help him, but realised that the turnstiles were jammed up. “Shit, man. What the hell happened out there? Are you okay?”

  Bristow shook his head. “I took a bullet. Captain Lewis went and lost his damn mind. Started firing at the police officers who had set up with us when we got here. We haven’t had o
rders in almost a week, so the captain decided he was going it alone. He ordered the police to hand over their vehicles and supplies. When they refused, Lewis started firing on them. They were unarmed and…they didn’t stand a chance. That’s when I and some of the other men turned on the captain. Our detachment split in two: Captain Lewis versus me. Luckily I came out on top, but most of my men are dead, and I…I need help. You have to let me in. The fighting’s not completely over. I don’t want any more of my men to get shot. We need to rest.”

  “Let him in,” said Emily.

  Brett turned to her and shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “You can’t leave him out there to die.”

  “It’s not like we have any doctors in here that could even help him anyway.”

  “Brett,” it was the Lieutenant speaking. “I know that you’re all scared. I know that the Army has done nothing to make you people feel safe, but trust me when I say that the only chance any of us has is to stick together. I’m not following orders anymore. I’m just a man like you, and I’m asking for your help.”

  Brett’s gut had told him to trust the Lieutenant the last time they had spoken, and it was telling him the same thing now. The bullet wound in the man’s shoulder suggested that his story was true enough.

  Brett took a step toward the turnstile.

  “Don’t you dare let that man in,” said Ethan, hurrying to get in front of him. “We’re not letting a single one of those thugs in here. They were the ones keeping us trapped in here. They made their own bed; they can damn-well lie in it. We owe them nothing.”

  “The Lieutenant isn’t like that,” said Brett. “Captain Lewis is the one who wouldn’t let us leave.”

  “That’s right,” Bristow spoke weakly. “Lewis is dead now. You can all leave if you want to, but please help me first.”

  Ethan was unwavering. “You can die for all I care. The only people that matter are us in here. We don’t need to risk our lives helping you. You and your men are the reason this country has turned to shit as badly as it has. For every person lost to The Peeling, there’s been just as many shot by barbarians in the Army. I guarantee you that at the very least he stood by and watched it happen.”

  “You’re right,” said Bristow, his words thick with pain. “I did. I’ll never forgive myself for following orders so blindly, but that is behind me now. All I can do is try to make up for the past by helping to protect as many people as I can from now on. But I need to rest before I can do that.”

  Reverend Long appeared and seemed confused by the scene that met him. “What on earth is happening here?”

  “Captain Lewis lost control,” Brett said. “There’s people injured outside and they want in.”

  “Which isn’t going to happen,” Ethan added.

  Reverend Long looked across at Lieutenant Bristow lying bloody in the turnstiles. “If people need help, it’s our obligation as human beings to help them.”

  “If he gets in here, we’re all dead,” said Ethan. “Do I have to remind you that they’re the reason no one has been able to leave here in a week? And how many innocent people have the army shot since things turned bad? It’s been a massacre, and now you want to let one of them in here?”

  “I think he’s different,” said Brett.

  “But you can’t be sure,” Ethan replied.

  “No, you’re right. I can’t.”

  Lieutenant Bristow let out an anguished sigh. “Please. I’m begging you.”

  Reverend Long marched over to the turnstiles but Ethan stood in the man’s way. “Leave him,” he said. “We don’t owe him anything.”

  “We owe him decency at the very least. I will not leave a man to suffer. The world may have changed, but I have not.”

  Ethan looked at Brett and raised his eyebrow. “You going to let him do this?”

  Brett wondered why the hell the decision lay with him. Somehow, in the last few days, the three of them must have formed some unspoken coalition. His vote was the tiebreaker. But what should he do?

  “Let him in.”

  Ethan backed off and let out an angered huff. “Fine. On your head be it. But make sure that we have his rifle.”

  Reverend Long grabbed the broom handle blocking the mechanism of the turnstile and Brett hurried up to grab a hold of the Lieutenant. Eventually they managed to drag the wounded soldier through the entrance and into the hallway inside. The wound in the Lieutenant’s shoulder left a slick red trail on the floor behind him. Brett made sure to grab the rifle off the floor. It was heavier than expected.

  “Right,” said Brett, pointing the weapon at the floor. “Getting him inside is one thing. Now what do we do to help him?”

  Lieutenant Bristow answered the question. He opened a small utility pouch on his belt and said, “I have bandages and disinfectant. I just need someone to dress my wound. I think the round went straight through. I should be okay.”

  Brett handed the rifle over to Ethan – immediately wondering if that was a good idea – and knelt down beside Bristow. He reached into the man’s utility pouch and found gauze, bandage, and a tiny bottle of Iodine. Reverend Long sat the soldier up while Brett removed his clothing. Beneath the olive green t-shirt was a tiny, circular hole that oozed blood. Brett doused the wound with the orange liquid from the Iodine bottle and clamped down a square of gauze before the blood had time to flood the area again. He held it there for a few seconds until the blood fused it in place. A couple of minutes later Brett had Bristow’s entire shoulder wrapped up in soft white bandage.

  “How’s that feel?”

  “Better already. I just need to rest.”

  “I’ll get the penthouse ready,” Ethan muttered.

  “Ethan,” Reverend Long scalded him. “Please…”

  “It’s okay,” said Bristow. “He’s right to be hostile. I’m grateful to you people for helping me, truly.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Brett. “You think you can stand?”

  Bristow nodded and Brett helped him to his feet. He seemed a little shaken but his body was stiff and powerful, trained for survival. Brett felt better having a grizzled soldier in their midst. He felt surer that his decision to let him through the turnstiles was the right one. That didn’t mean he was willing to let his men through just yet, though.

  “Ethan,” get the turnstiles secure. No one else is coming through until we know more about the situation.”

  Ethan didn’t argue, probably because it was an idea he could get behind. He jammed up the mechanism and then decided to stand watch beside the entrance. That probably wasn’t a bad idea either.

  “People are going to be nervous about you being here,” Brett told Bristow. “I think it would be best if we took you up into the stands for tonight.”

  “Okay,” said Bristow, starting to bear more of his own weight with every step. “Anywhere is fine.”

  Emily appeared in front of them then. Brett hadn’t notice her leave earlier but it appeared that she had something important to tell them. Before she had chance, though, people started shouting over at the East Stand.

  It turned out to be Stephen causing the panic. When Brett entered the food area of East Stand, he immediately saw the festering sore on the man’s face and the fear in his eyes. The Peeling had begun its work. Somehow he had caught it from his daughter.

  “Stephen, you’re sick.” It was stating the obvious, but Brett knew nothing else to say.

  “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice already weak and slurring from the infection. “You need to help my girl. She’s, she’s…God help me, there’s nothing left of her. Just...bones. Bones and blood.” Stephen threw up on the floor, the vomit steaming and thick with blood.

  “Get the fuck back,” shouted Ethan. “You need to get away from us.”

  Brett hated to be cruel, but he agreed. “Stephen, go back up into the stands. You’re dangerous.”

  Stephen stepped forward. “I’m fine.
There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Your face…”

  Stephen stopped approaching and put a shaking hand to his cheek. When he pulled it back his fingers were clammy with sticky flesh. He looked at Brett with panic in his eyes. “Help me!” He rushed forward, arms out in desperation.

  Lieutenant Bristow pulled the trigger on a handgun he had pulled from nowhere. An explosion of sound was followed by a tiny dot of blood spreading wider on Stephen’s forehead. The man fell down dead.

  Ethan spun around and pointed the rifle at Bristow and begun shouting. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What needed to be done.”

  Brett shook his head and had a bad feeling. “You said you were done with this. You said you didn’t want to kill anybody else.”

  Bristow lowered his gun and gave them all a stern look. “He was already dead. I did him a favour.”

  Reverend Long said, “It is that attitude that has seen this country’s military turn into savages and bullies.”

  Bristow laughed. “You people really don’t get it, do you? The world has ended. Things aren’t just bad, they’re over and done with. Anyone lucky enough to still be alive should be doing everything they can to stay that way. Whatever it takes. Because if we fail it’s the end of the goddamn human race.”

  Ethan aimed the rifle at Bristow’s unflinching face. “We’ll decide what it takes. This is our home you just stepped into. You live by our rules.”

  Bristow slowly raised his gun again and this time aimed it at Ethan. “You point a rifle at someone, you need to be willing to pull the trigger, mate. You got the stones for it?”

  Ethan began to sweat, a bead appearing above his right eyebrow. He clutched the rifle tightly, but he seemed more concerned with the fact that a weapon was pointed at him.

  “There are no rules anymore,” said Bristow. “It’s all about whoever has the biggest bollocks.”

  “Well, right now, I do,” said Ethan. “I have the bigger gun.”

  Bristow smirked. “But it’s not loaded.”