Snatchers (A Zombie Novel)

by Shaun Whittington

  It appeared that whatever scientist was being interviewed, the logical answer was that it was some kind of virus. Other reports began to filter through, but they were mainly theories. One claimed it could be a gas released and was a secretive infectious terrorist attack that was made in a Taliban laboratory. Another strongly claimed it was definitely a UK based virus originally, as there was only pockets of activity in other countries, whereas the UK was almost on its knees, and he fully believed that the virus was related to the attacks at the Newcastle Research Centre at the beginning of June.

  The religious leaders, however, predictably claimed that it was the apocalypse created by God. Jack knew that even with all of knowledge and scientific advancements today, humans still did not know everything.

  The TV suggested that whatever was happening was only happening in Europe, yet the Far East were in mass panic, including reports that planes from Europe heading for the likes of China and Russia, were told to turn back or risk being shot down. Due to fuel shortages, there were reports that some planes were landing in fields. But the information was very limited as the virus, although spreading rapidly, was still in its infancy.

  "Idiots!" Jack snarled at the television. "You don't even know what the fuck's going on. Do you? Just admit it!"

  For a full minute, he stood on his feet, his knees literally knocking with fright, and he gazed at the hotel's carpet drifting away into a self-hypnosis state.

  What was he going to do? What was the best thing to do? What about Kerry? More importantly, what about his son, Thomas? His son lived in Rugeley. Four hundred miles away!

  He grabbed his car keys off the side table, and sat back down onto the bed.

  What should he do? Stay in the hotel room and hope for the best? Or chance his luck, head toward the car park and drive to his house, and lock himself in for the time being?

  He decided on the latter option. He picked up the remote off the bed and put the TV onto standby, and before he could move off his bed, there was a gentle knock on his door.

  Chapter Seven

  Jamie Thomson and Janine Perry were transfixed with panic, and nodded to one another that releasing the prisoners was the correct thing to do. The inmates' voices in their hundreds were releasing yells of panic and steel doors were being slammed, as they demanded to be let out. Jamie had tried to phone two of his officers from the other house block, but they were not answering the phone. Maybe they have gone, he thought.

  He phoned the Governor who also never answered his phone. He did, however, get in contact with a female colleague at her home who said, in no uncertain terms, that the prison was the least of her worries now and that they should leave the place as soon as possible, because if the people in the control room decided to leave, then the electronic doors that led to the exit to the staff car park would be sealed and it'd be impossible to get through.

  Jamie Thomson rang the control department again, and the two members of staff up in the control room were still there and undecided whether to leave or not. Jamie assumed that, like himself, these colleagues didn't have kids otherwise they would have left by now. He was informed by control, that his work colleagues had already left from house block one, meaning that nearly four hundred prisoners were locked up in the opposite building in their cells, and left to their own devices. Control asked Jamie what his intentions were.

  He looked over to Janine and answered control's question. "I'm gonna open up each door on all four wings to the exercise yard; the prisoners can go through that door and jump the fence. Is there anything we can do about the prisoners in house block one?"

  "Negative," control answered. "As you know, we can only control the doors outside the house blocks. All doors that are controlled within the house block are controlled by people who work in the bubble where you're sitting, and even then you need the keys to open the cells. There's no one in the bubble in house block one anymore."

  "Yeah, I know all that. But how come you let those officers out of the grounds, couldn't you have gently persuaded them to open up the prisoners."

  "They didn't want to open up the prisoners for fear of being attacked. The two officers have now left through the exercise yard on A wing. They climbed the fence; they never went through the normal procedure of leaving the premises. Maybe they thought we wouldn't allow them out, or they assumed we, up in control, had already left. We can still see them now on the cameras, climbing another fence, they're nearly out of the grounds but the barbed wire is cutting them to shreds."

  "Barbed wire? Fuck. Forgot about that; better tell the prisoners to throw their bed sheets over, before they climb over."

  Control said, "They're now in the car park, leaving with their cars. Both officers have families. Right, Delta Seven, I mean, Jamie, we're going. Good luck."

  It wasn't that he didn't believe control, but he hung up and called house block once more just to be sure. He looked over to Janine and shook his head.

  She asked, "What's wrong?"

  "The officers have left house block one."

  "They've just let the prisoners in there to starve, in their cells?" Janine placed her hand dramatically on her head, the sweaty palms sticking to her blonde hair.

  Jamie nodded. He held up the phone to acknowledge that there was no one answering it. "Yep, looks like they've definitely gone."

  "So what are we going to do?"

  "I've got an emergency key to open or close the sliders, each door that leads to the wing. Here." He threw the key at Janine. "I want you to close all slider doors apart from E wing. I'm gonna open every door that leads to the exercise yard on the four wings, but I'm gonna do it one by one. Don't want these fuckers attacking me, I'm sure they won't though."

  "What makes you think they won't?"

  "Three things: One, I'm doing them a fucking favour. Two, I'm opening up the cells slowly, so the wing won't get congested. And three, by the time I've opened up the next cell, the prisoners from the previous one will be practically over the fence. If we open all four sliders, they may take their frustration out on the bubble. But like I said, we're doing them a favour so I can't really see that happening."

  Said Janine, "I'll announce it over the speaker."

  Janine spoke loudly in order for the rowdy, panic-stricken inmates to hear her. She forced a thin smile at her male colleague. She wasn't fully convinced that this plan wasn't going to backfire, but they couldn't leave them in there to starve like the prisoners in house block one. She put her lips to the microphone. "Attention inmates. Attention inmates." She paused to allow the prisoners to be quiet. "You've heard what's happening out there. Don't worry. We are going to let you out. We will start with E wing, followed by F, G and finally H. You will leave via your exercise yard, and be sure to take sheets and duvets with you to protect you from the barbed wire. Forget that we are officers. Go home to your families; we are all in this together now."

  She looked at Jamie and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, how was that?

  Jamie nodded in approval, but couldn't help a sarcastic remark. "Very moving." Jamie continued. "Right, I better start. Just keep on repeating what you said before while I unlock them."

  Jamie left the bubble, and threw his radio to the floor, which was something he didn't need as it was mainly used to contact control. He saw the slider doors to wing F, G and H close, while E remained open.

  He walked into the loud and boisterous voices of male panic that was building momentum once again, and opened up one door that stood next to the small wings canteen. He walked into a short corridor to open the final door that let in welcomed air; it was the door that led to the exercise yard. It was a beautiful feeling when the wind brushed his face, and then suddenly doubts surrounded Jamie's mind.

  Surely this is some kind of joke? Is letting the prisoners out really the correct decision?

  He stopped arguing with himself and went back inside E wing and opened up their door to the exercise yard. His heavy boots clonked up the metal staircase to the f
irst floor. He started on the top floor, and sure enough, the first two prisoners that were unlocked never even gave Jamie any eye contact as they both ran with rolled up sheets under their arms and ran straight for the door that was opened on the side of the wing, the door that led to the exercise yard.

  All four wings had taken nearly thirty minutes to complete, and not one prisoner verbally or physically attacked Jamie. He was a respected officer, and they were frightened individuals who wanted to be with their families or wanted out of the prison no matter what dangers lurked outside. Not all prisoners left immediately; some lagged behind and others wanted time to think about what they were about to do. Was it the right thing?

  Once all cells had been opened, he walked past the bubble and into the staff room for a pee; then came back out again minutes later.

  Jamie returned back to the house block's control unit, nicknamed the bubble. He knocked on the door and Janine pressed a button to electronically allow the thirty-nine-year-old back in. She turned to him and wondered what he was going to do next. Was this the moment they went their separate ways? She was too scared to go out there on her own. She bit the bullet and asked him, "Where are you going to go?"

  "If I can get to the gatehouse, I can break into the reception area, open the main doors where the deliveries turn up, and get a set of keys."

  "Keys? What for?"

  "So we can take one of the prison vans that we use to transport the cons to court and back."

  Janine sighed and forced out a smile. "We?"

  "Well I assume you're coming with me, aren't you?"

  She smiled and nodded her head, two tears appeared in each of her eyes, but refused to fall. "Definitely!" she exclaimed.

  "Before we go, I think we better raid the staff fridge and take bottles of water. We can toss them over the fence as we climb over."

  Janine added, "We could just stay here, and get our food from the prisoners' cells. They all have food; there would be plenty of tea, coffee and water. I'm sure the prison has back-up generators. We could sleep in the bubble on a night, we—"

  "We would go mad within a week. I could think of better places to go, besides, not too sure how long this place can go on until the electricity dies, and the generators won't last forever. If this thing is as bad as they say it is, it'll be like living in the dark ages. Could you spend your time on the wings in the darkness? Even in the daylight it's dark in here."

  "At least we'll be alive."

  Jamie shook his head, he didn't agree. "It's no way to live. Are you coming or not?"

  Chapter Eight

  David Pointer reached for the remote and put the TV onto standby, he had seen enough. He then looked to his shaken wife, Davina, who was clearly distraught and confused about the news that was finally being soaked up by her brain.

  He asked in a soft voice that was coated in shock, "So what happens now?"

  She shrugged her shoulders; she was hoping that he would have some answers.

  He quickly stood to his feet, the room span once as he got to his feet too quickly. He looked over to his daughter, Isobel, who sat in the corner of the living room, innocently playing, oblivious to the catastrophe that was being broadcasted around the world.

  He walked over to his daughter, stroked her blonde hair and kissed the back of her head; he then looked over to his wife. "Go upstairs, both of you get dressed."

  "What about you?" Davina wiped her eyes.

  "I'm gonna stay down here for a bit, get some food and water. We're going into the attic."

  David walked over to his unopened living room blinds, and nervously placed his fingers inbetween them and carefully pulled them apart about two inches. The street was desolate; he shook his head. There doesn't seem to be anybody about.

  David walked briskly around the house, as his wife and daughter began progressing upstairs. He checked the patio door in the back room; he pulled the blind down to the floor and struggled to move the leather couch against the door. As he dragged the couch toward the door, it had made a huge scratch on the wooden floor, an action that would normally anger Davina, but under the circumstances David was sure it was something he wasn't going to be in trouble for.

  Satisfied that the back room was secured, he shut the door behind him, went to the reception area and made sure the front door was locked. He knew it wasn't that strong and recognised that this was probably the weak spot of the house. It was locked, and he moved everything that he could think of against the front door, TVs, tables...any kind of furniture that would cause an obstacle.

  No wonder the street is empty. Millions of people across the UK, possibly the world, are, or have been, doing exactly what I'm doing now.

  He went into the living room and kitchen to make sure windows had been secured, then went into the cupboard under the sink and began to fill bags with food, bottles of water, medication—he was practically emptying the cupboards. He had two rucksacks full of food and water, and took one upstairs where his wife stood in their daughter's bedroom. Isobel was now playing with her play-kitchen.

  He dumped one bag onto the floor; the couple never uttered a word to one another, they just looked at each other briefly, and then he went back downstairs for the other bag. Once he returned, he grabbed the metal pole and opened the latch to the attic that was situated in Isobel's room, and pulled down the metal ladders. "I'll do my best to block off the downstairs. From now on, we use the upstairs only for washing, baths...obviously not sleeping, 'cos that would be too dangerous."

  Davina queried, "What happens if they get in?" She was hoping for a, they won't response, but it never came.

  "Then we stay in the attic."

  "We can't survive in the attic alone."

  "No, but there's a skylight. Which means, I can get out of the skylight and walk across the roofs of the houses and check other skylights, maybe break into the neighbour's house and see what the neighbours have left, food...whatever."

  "David," Davina half-laughed and began to lecture her husband. "You can't just break into peoples' houses and rob them."

  "Do you honestly think the neighbours are coming back? They're in New York for a week, and even if they do come back after this mess has been finished, do you think they'd be pissed with us for breaking into their house in order to survive?"

  "We live in a terraced block of eight houses; what happens if the other neighbours have already done that?"

  "Then that's fine. They need to do what they need to do to survive."

  "And what happens if things get so desperate, they try and break into our house, even though we're in here?"

  "Then I need to protect us." David pulled out a knife from his jeans, and he pointed over to the rucksack where Davina could see a hammer popping out of the bag. He said, "I'm off to get the other bag, want anything else?"

  "Not that I can think of," she whispered. "Tooth brushes, deodorant—we can leave that sort of stuff for later."

  "I should think about filling the bath upstairs."

  She looked at David with bemusement.

  "Just in case something happens to the water system, whether it's turned off or gets polluted. We can't survive without water."

  She looked over to Isobel and went over to her cupboard to pick out her clothes. She had her back to her husband and he could see her head lowering. He walked up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She turned around to reveal her tearstained cheeks; they gently hugged one another. Both of their tears rolled and ran onto each other's shoulders. When they broke away from one another, they began to adjust themselves. It was a brief moment of sadness, but they both felt better for letting themselves go for a minute.

  As David left the room, he could hear his daughter asking, "Mummy, are you okay?"

  He trudged down the stairs and cried harder than before. Now with his family out of the way, he broke down and cursed himself for doing so. He was supposed to be the strong one, and wasn't doing a very good job of it.

  David looked behind
him and made sure he was out of earshot from Davina and Isobel, and once satisfied that he was as alone as he could be, a cocktail of emotions burst out of him.

  He ran the cold tap from the kitchen sink and cried hard, with his head resting on the kitchen worktop. He remained there for minutes until his psyche had instructed him to pull himself together. He closed his mouth and his lips in an attempt to keep the emotions in check, but like a bad cough or trying not to laugh in a hilarious situation, he couldn't manage this, and his mouth widened again as his sobbing continued.

  He splashed his face repeatedly while still crying and washed out his burning eyes with the icy water. He had never cried that hard for years, not since the day of his mother's funeral in fact. His heartfelt emotion wasn't for himself, it was for his family, and it was for other families across the UK, possibly the world—if it had spread that far. He was certain that the world wasn't indestructible, and that the end of life, at least human life, was a threat that was very realistic, but he wasn’t expecting this! And why now? Why in his lifetime did it have to happen now?

  Whether it was ten years from now, or two hundred years, David Pointer was aware that the possibility of a global threat was very real. The KT extinction and the Clovis comet were realistic scenarios that scientists claimed had wiped out the dinosaurs and had changed the shape of the Earth, as people knew it now. David had read once about the Clovis comet and that thirteen thousand years ago it exploded over the Great Lakes, ignited the forest, spurred global cooling and killed a lot of species like mastodons.

  Since the fifties, nuclear threat had always been around; that threat had diluted somewhat since the fall of the Soviet Union, but it was still there from other sources.

  Despite David trying to get his head straight, he was finding it hard to fathom that some kind of virus was spreading through Britain like wild fire. The Spanish flu killed the same amount of people in two years than what the Black Death did in two hundred, which was only a matter of decades ago, but back then, bodies weren't coming back to life and attacking other people.