The Afflicted: A Zombie Novel

by Watts, Russ

  “You’re not going anywhere. Amane and George are going to wait here with you while I go find what we need,” said Evan.

  Amane stood behind George who picked up the oar and pointed it at the Father.

  “Sit down,” said George. Father Thomas knew better than to argue and sat down obediently. The boat came up beside the pier and Evan threw the rope over the mooring, tying it up tight.

  “I don’t know how long I’m going to be,” Evan said to Amane. “Just keep watch and stay with George okay? Any trouble from the Father here and don’t even hesitate. If anyone or anything else comes down this pier other than me, cast off and leave.”

  “We’re not going anywhere without you, Evan. Just take care.” Amane gave him a hug.

  “Look after her while I’m gone, eh, George?” said Evan, clambering onto the pier. George just nodded back at him, stony-faced. Evan bent low and headed off down the pier toward the city. It looked quiet but they had been caught out like that before. He skirted low past a couple of ships. The decks were awash with blood. He didn’t pause to look any further but kept on jogging to the hut where he hoped they would find keys to a bigger boat with a more powerful engine, one that could cope with an ocean rather than a river. Truth was, he had no idea what he would find. He just hoped it didn’t have teeth.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Quite the happy family isn’t it?” said Father Thomas from his seat in the cabin. Amane looked up at him but said nothing. She was too tired to argue. She could tell he was stirring. George said nothing and stood steadfast, swamped by scorching sunshine, the oar gripped in both hands. The backpack stuck to his sweaty back and he could feel beads of sweat dripping down his armpits.

  “Do you know, George, I was going to help you: you and your mother. Honestly. If you’d followed in my footsteps you could have led a great life, one of devout worship to the Almighty, of purity and peace: of sacrifice. I had plans you know. Once your eyes are opened to Him, they cannot be closed. What you see around you, George, is the effect of the opposite of that. These zombies, these ‘people,’ were not believers. They are suffering now for their sins.

  “Once all have been judged, the dead will be consumed in a lake of fire and sulphur. That day is coming my child. I heard what you and Amane talked about, the burning fire. If mankind starts it, it will take on a holy quest and burn the Earth. Cleanse it, and wipe it clean forever. That day will be joyous. The only place for redemption will be in Jerusalem. We must build a wall around it, fortify it. It is the most sacred place on Earth and it can be our Eden again. Only the pure, who show faith to God, may enter the city of salvation.

  “George, it is not too late. You can still join me on my quest. Do not be fooled by these sinners. Evan and Amane will leave you to rot, given the chance.”

  “All right, that’s enough,” said Amane. George hadn’t moved a muscle, but Amane was agitated. She walked over to the Father.

  “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing. You’re lucky Evan is such a nice guy or you’d have been left to burn back there.”

  “Evan? A ‘nice guy?’ Who are you kidding?” Father Thomas got to his feet. “It is people like him who have lost us this bountiful paradise that the Lord gave us, and turned it into a Godless world where whores are celebrated and men of the cloth are pariahs. I am but a lamb in His service, but Evan...George, did I tell you how your mother died?”

  George stepped closer to the Father. “I assumed Nathaniel shot her? What does it matter now, anyway? She’s dead,” he said.

  “Well, Nathaniel certainly did try to shoot her, but he never was a very good shot. You see, George, I tried to save your mother. Evan left her you see. Before we found you, I saw what he did. Your poor mother was left behind on purpose, surrounded by zombies, whilst he ran like a coward. She was alive when we found her, but I’m afraid it was too late.”

  “What do you mean?” George was puzzled.

  “Shut up, you hear me, just shut up,” said Amane. Father Thomas ignored her and went on.

  “She was infected, son. She was dying, probably bitten by one of those creatures whilst she lay there, unprotected, and unable to defend herself. Probably while Evan was relaxing with a nice glass of wine in my house I would say.” He flashed Amane a sinister smile and went on.

  “Shut up or I swear...,” said Amane. The Father ignored her.

  “I had to put her out of her misery. I hacked her head off. Took a bit of effort, I tell you. She didn’t stop kicking the whole time. When I was through, she still wouldn’t die. It’s quite impressive if you think about it. She’s still there now, back at the vicarage. I chopped her head off but it’s still there, biting away at nothing, trapped in hell forever.” The Father sniggered callously as George digested the information.

  “I think she was trying to speak too. I swear she kept saying, ‘no,’ when I was sawing away at her face. Weird eh?”

  Amane shook her head. “It’s not true, George, don’t listen to him.” George looked up at her with glistening eyes. “Ignore him, George, he’s crazy. These are the ramblings of an insane man.”

  “I think you know perfectly well what is true, George,” said the Father. “I think the fresh ones, the ones who have only just died; somehow they retain some of their bodily functions. Don’t ask me how it works. I’m a preacher not a doctor. If you want to see your mother again, you can. Just come back with me and I’ll show you her rotting corpse.

  “Do you know what I did to Lily before she died, Amane? I had a great time I have to say. I fucked the shit out of her.” He laughed. His booming laugh echoed across the water.

  “Amen to that. Ha!”

  George let out a scream and swung the oar, which was just what the Father had been waiting for. He ducked and the oar hit Amane in the chest, sending her reeling backwards. Father Thomas grabbed the oar from George’s hand and charged at Amane. He pushed the oar like a battering ram toward her and she skidded backward over the side of the boat, splashing into the cold water.

  “No!” cried George. The Father spun round and held the oar menacingly above George, ready to strike.

  “Hold it right there, son.” Father Thomas’ eyes were wild but he spoke with clarity.

  “I was going to offer you a last chance to come with me but do you know what? You’re stupid. Just like your fucking mother. It must be in the genes. Now get off my fucking boat.”

  George was so shocked he didn’t know what to do. He could hear Amane splashing and spluttering over in the water. The Father drew the oar back.

  “Now! Or I’ll take your fucking head off like I did your cunt of a mother.”

  George jumped up onto the pier as Amane pulled herself up the ladder from the freezing cold water to join him, dripping wet. She was coughing and retching from the seawater she had swallowed. George knelt down beside her, his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer.

  “I’m sorry, Amane. I’m sorry.”

  The boat roared into life and George saw Father Thomas untie the mooring. The small boat slipped away from the pier as the Father took it back in the direction they had come from. The engine stopped suddenly and George’s hopes were raised. Maybe he would come back for them? He wouldn’t just leave them here would he?

  Father Thomas disappeared into the cabin and moments later came out with what looked like a gun. He smiled and raised it into the air like a starting pistol.

  “I found this when we got on board,” he shouted. “Sorry, forgot to mention it. Oh well. Good luck.” The Father laughed and fired the flare gun twice, red beacons sparkling in the sky above George and Amane. There was no doubt that they would be seen for miles around. Then Father Thomas restarted the little boat, pulling away and abandoning them as they had intended to do to him. He didn’t look back.

  “Amane, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She lay on her back, panting.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said sitting up, grimacing with pain and rubbing her chest where the oar had struck her. “
It’s not your fault, George. Shit, I should have seen what he was doing. We shouldn’t have listened to him.”

  She spat a mouthful of salty saliva onto the deck, shivered, and swept her wet hair behind her ears.

  “We’re going to have to find Evan and get out of here. That bastard. It wasn’t enough to take the boat. He had to ring the fucking dinner bell as well.”

  Amane stood up. Already in the distance, she saw movement: two, three, four zombies, shuffling in their direction. Behind them, she saw shadows, as more would surely follow.

  * * * *

  Evan had made it to the hut untroubled. The door was unlocked and he ventured inside. The small office was a mess. It looked as if it had been ransacked. There were papers everywhere and the key rack on the wall was empty. He began rifling through the papers on the floor, sifting through rubbish, desperately hoping to find something useful. Casting aside coffee cups and binders, he came across a set of keys. There was a rubber duck attached to the key ring and a plain piece of paper attached that read ‘Johanna.’ He rummaged around further but found no more keys.

  “God, please let me find this boat.” Evan pulled the door aside to head back to the others when he heard a knock on the other side of the office. He held his breath and froze. Again, he heard a knocking sound coming from outside and he held the door steady to stop it from creaking. Crouched down on the floor he glanced up at the small window. Silhouetted against the blue sky was a zombie. A bald man shuffled past the office, knocking against the walls. It paused by the open door and Evan looked it up and down. The man had little apparent physical injuries. He wore a suit and shoes and Evan wondered for a moment if he was wrong. What if this man just needed help? Evan kept perfectly still as the figure continued on its wayward journey. He noticed the bullet holes in the man’s back and thanked God he had not offered to help him. It would have been the last thing he’d done.

  Waiting a few minutes for it to wander off, Evan put the keys in his pocket and sat patiently. Finally, he pulled the door open again and peered outside. He could not see where the man had gone to and the area seemed quiet. He heard a faint engine sound and hesitated. Surely, that wasn’t Amane? The marina was safe. There was no reason for her to move the boat, was there? Evan crept back toward the pier and heard two gunshots. Red flares rocketed up into the sky.

  “Fuck me, what now?” he said to himself. Evan stood up and jogged past a listing yacht to where he could see where they had moored up. The boat was leaving and there were two lone figures on the pier.

  “Amane? George!” he called out. The flares had attracted enough attention that there was no need to be creeping around now. Amane and George ran toward him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled round to find the bullet-riddled bald man about to strike. Evan tripped backward and pushed the man away. The bald man kept coming and this time there was no weapon Evan could use but his own fists. He punched the bald zombie repeatedly, raining blows down on its head until it was forced into submission. Unable to see clearly, the zombie lurched around unsteadily and Evan, seizing his chance, barrelled into it, shoving it over the edge of the pier into the water.

  “Evan, did you find a key?” Amane and George caught up with him as the zombie fell, leaving Evan breathing heavily but unhurt.

  “Yeah, but no boat yet. What happened?” He was bent double, getting his breath back. He had to be more alert; he had been an inch away from being killed.

  “Father Thomas happened. He jumped us. Sorry,” said George. “Shit, we have to go now. Look!” They looked at the approaching zombies. From all directions they came, walking and running out of the shadows and the buildings, monsters of all shapes and sizes: hollow soul-less creatures, all brought by the flares.

  “We’re going to have to find the boat later. We stay out here shopping, we’re sitting ducks. Over there, into the precinct. Let’s go,” said Evan.

  Evan pointed at a small shopping precinct. They ran, beating the zombies to it. The doors were stuck open and Evan could not pull them closed. Inside smelt like death. Bodies littered the tiled floor, clothes and glass lying between them where the shops had been looted. The first of many zombies appeared at the doorway behind them.

  “Upstairs, look for another exit!” They ran up a motionless escalator, jumping over the prostrate body of a half-eaten security guard lying in the middle. At the top, Amane scanned the upper floor for an exit.

  “I don’t see anything, Evan!” she said, frustrated. “George, come on.” He was tugging at something by the security guard’s feet. More zombies piled in through the doorway, and seeing George, began the approach up the escalator. George pulled the baton free and ran upstairs.

  “Help! Wait!” Suddenly a woman came running to them, appearing from out of a café. She instantly rushed straight up to Evan.

  “Oh God, you don’t know how glad I am to find someone else alive!” She held on to Evan a little too long making him feel uncomfortable. Amane sized her up, young, slim, blonde and wearing very little other than some sneakers, a pair of white skimpy shorts and an eye-catchingly revealing vest.

  “Get back here! Bloody idiot.” A man appeared out of the café too.

  “Hey,” he said cautiously to Evan. “I’m Rob. This is...”

  “...Sasha,” finished the blonde, holding her hand out to Evan who shook it, not wanting to be rude. “We heard the gunshots and thought we’d better see what was going on. We’ve been stuck here and...”

  “Rob, Sasha, pleased to meet you and all that stuff, but we can’t stick around. Time for talk is later.” Evan pointed to the escalator and the advancing zombies.

  Rob muttered a cluster of swear words under his breath. He was thick-set and muscly. He also looked like he had walked straight out of a gym: shorts, tight, black top. Shame about the thinning thatch on top thought Amane.

  “I’m not going back in there,” said Sasha, looking at the café.

  “No offence, both of you, but we’re leaving right now. There’s no time to discuss this. Come with us or stay, up to you. Amane, George, move it.”

  Evan jogged around the top of the shopping precinct and paused, looking down at the amassing horde below. They were streaming in now. It was as if half the city had seen the flares. Weaker zombies were crushed as ones that are more agile pushed past them to get upstairs. The noise increased dramatically in the small building as hundreds of wailing, moaning zombies filed in, their requiem echoing around the vaulted ceilings of the building.

  Amane was shivering, partly through fear, partly through cold. Evan saw her clothes were still wet from her ocean plunge earlier, and inside where the sun couldn’t reach, it was cool. Reaching through a smashed shop façade, he grabbed a jumper from a mannequin and handed it to her.

  “Put it on. That’ll have to do for now.” Evan picked up a plastic leg from a broken mannequin and gripped it firmly. Better than nothing, he thought. Amane pulled the woolly cardigan on. It was three sizes too big for her, but was at least dry.

  “We’re going to get out of here, okay?” Evan spotted a sign for the car park and they followed him down the bare tiled corridor, past a ticket machine to a set of double doors. Sasha and Rob followed close behind, evidently agreeing that their temporary home was no longer safe.

  The doors swung open into a multi-storey car park. No sooner had they run through than they heard the doors swing open again and zombies began spewing through. George ran up a ramp to the next floor.

  “It’s harder for them to go up than down,” he shouted.

  They all followed him. There were no vehicles in the car-park. Evan kept looking about but he couldn’t see a single one. Just their luck, he thought. He could hear Rob muttering something but ignored him. Evan didn’t care if those two were married, strangers, half dead or half alive; he couldn’t keep babysitting people. After what had happened to Lily, he didn’t want to anymore. They ran up another floor to the roof, listening to the zombies beneath them.

  “What now?�
�� said Amane, out of breath. With the exertion of running in heavy, soggy clothes and where the oar had hit her earlier, her chest felt as if it was on fire. Up on the roof, the sun was beating down again. It was mid-afternoon but she felt as if they had been running for hours.

  “We keep going,” said Evan. “Those things are not going to stop and neither are we.” He took her hand.

  “Thanks for ruining our hiding place, mate. We were doing fine back there.” Rob was looking around, working out where he could go now to hide.

  “No we weren’t, you idiot,” said Sasha. “We’d barricaded ourselves in and were living off stale bread. It was smelly, dirty, and horrible.”

  Her explanation was directed at everyone, but she only looked at Evan when she spoke. She even shed a few tears. It was obvious to Amane that Sasha was looking for a new hero. Rob clearly didn’t size up. Ignoring them, Evan asked George if he was all right.

  “Look over there.” George used the baton to point to the edge of the car park. There was a door leading to an overhead walkway. A glass funnel crisscrossed by girders and metal, leading to the next building. It was some sort of office building Evan guessed. There were grey blinds and computer terminals in the windows.

  Evan pulled Amane by the hand and they jogged over to the edge of the roof. They could see that the glass walkway was empty inside. In the mid-section stray bullets had hit the glass and shattered the central panes. They were intact but cracked. They would have to step very carefully over the metal girders holding it together.

  The street below looked like a war zone. Evan counted at least six army trucks and one tank. There were a few soldiers shuffling about, obviously dead. Whatever dead means now, he thought. There were more people piled up against the vehicles who looked as though they may have been shot, executed even. Several zombies were hitting the brick wall of the car park, looking up. Fingernails broke off as they clawed at the walls. They knew someone alive was up there but had no way up.