by C. A. Earl
Drawing aside the plastic curtain, he grabbed a large towel and began to dry himself. Then he looked up. A blue medical gown had been hooked over the handle of the bathroom door, a likely replacement for his dirty clothes which were missing from the floor where he had left them. The door itself was ajar (for security reasons, he assumed) and sounds of movement were coming from the adjoining room.
‘All done?’ asked a female voice through the open door. ‘Okay, come through when you’re ready.’
Ben stole quietly across the tiled floor and snatched the gown from the door handle, slipping it over his head and tying the cord as securely as he could. A draft of air on his backside told him that his modesty was only barely covered.
He tentatively entered the other room, which looked like a modified sick bay/doctor’s office. A huge box of trophies and framed photographs were stashed in one corner behind a large desk where a lab-coated, pony-tailed woman was looking out through the blinds of a window. Ben glanced instinctively toward the door where a statuesque soldier stood guard, a rifle across his chest.
‘Take a seat’ said the woman, turning around with a hypodermic needle in hand. Ben flinched, backing away to a cushioned bench behind him.
‘What’s that?’
‘Don’t worry. It’s just something to make you feel a bit better, that’s all.’
‘I feel fine already. I’d rather not, if that’s okay.’
The brown-haired woman looked at the point of the needle and gave a sigh, placing it down on the desk on top of a wad of tissue. ‘Suit yourself. It’s just a pick-me-up, but it’s your decision.’
Ben nodded nervously and lowered himself onto the bench. For one horrible moment he had thought that the needle might contain some sort of truth drug that would scupper everything. ‘Thank you’ he said, as the woman crossed the room toward him.
‘Okay, so you don’t like needles. How are you with bright lights?’
Ben shrugged his shoulders as she removed a pen-torch from the top pocket of her coat and asked him to tilt his head back. Clicking it on, she shone the torch into his eyes while asking him to look up, down, left and right. When she had finished she checked inside his ears and mouth and then began to examine the various bruises and scratches along his arms, taking the time to assess each and every one.
‘I haven’t been bitten’ he said quietly.
‘I know. You wouldn’t be here if you had. But if one of them scratched you – or if something got into your blood – then you might not show obvious signs yet. Usually it shows in the whites of your eyes or in the colour of your gums, but...I’m happy to say it looks like you’re in the clear. Okay, now please stand and take the gown off...’
Ben’s eyes flicked at the unmoving guard stationed at the door. ‘Really? But I only just put it on...’
‘I didn’t need you to be naked for me to check your ears, I spared you that. But every person in this place has to have a full medical examination, those are the rules. Now, don’t be shy. Take the gown off, hold out your arms and spread your legs.’
Ben gave a nervous smile and stood up slowly before doing as he was asked. He winced, partly in embarrassment and partly in pain as the woman moved around him, poking and prodding at his many bruises. When she was satisfied, he slipped the gown back on and sat down again while she checked his pulse.
‘So’ he asked. ‘The bombs. The dead walking about. Please tell me you know who’s behind it all?’
‘Afraid not. There are theories of course, but they’re just rumours really. If our dear saviours know then they’re keeping it to themselves.’
Ben tilted his head. ‘So you’re not part of the military then?’
The woman chuckled. ‘God, no. I’ve been here since the start. This is – was – where I work. I’m sort of the resident medic, along with a couple of others.’
‘So, do you have any family here?’
The woman smirked again. ‘Wow. You’re full of questions aren’t you?’
‘Sorry. I just thought, you know, if you’ve been here all along - do you even know what’s happened to your family? Shit..., sorry, I really shouldn’t have asked that. I talk too much sometimes...’
‘Stop apologising. That one’s easy. Most people in here have it a lot worse than me. My parents died a few years ago so I haven’t got that worry. I’ve just got one brother - in Canada - and no kids to worry about. There’s an ex-husband of mine either dead or kicking around out there somewhere, but to be honest I really couldn’t give a fuck about him anyway.’
‘Oh.’
Slipping the pen-torch back into her top pocket, the woman gave a broad smile. ‘Well, Ben Reilly. I have to say I’m a little disappointed in you.’
Ben recoiled in surprise. ‘You know me?’
‘Uh-huh. I knew it was you as soon as I saw you.’
‘But-‘
‘Ben, it’s me, Heather Mackie. We went to primary school together.’
Ben’s eyes widened, recognising angular features that he hadn’t seen for well over twenty-five years. ‘Jesus, Heather! I can’t believe it. How...how are you?’ The woman tilted her head as Ben shrank with embarrassment. ‘Sorry’ he mumbled, ‘what a fucking stupid question. Force of habit. My God, it’s so good to see you, though. I didn’t expect to see anyone from my past ever again.’
Pausing for a moment, Heather glanced at the soldier and then back at Ben. ‘Hey, you do know that your brother’s here, right?’
‘Oh my God. Matt’s here? Really?’
In trying to feign surprise, Ben wasn’t sure if he had overcooked his reaction.
‘Uh-huh. I recognised him straight away, too’ she said with a mischievous smirk. ‘I’ll let you into a secret; I made sure his medical was a lot more invasive than it needed to be! That’ll teach him for pulling my knickers down in school assembly. I told him I would get him back for that one day..!’
Ben shifted in his seat. ‘What about Matt’s wife and son? Are they here as well?’
At that moment there was a sharp knock at the door and the soldier stepped aside as it opened. Ben rose as a small, immaculately dressed man entered the room, the door closing behind him.
‘He’s fine’ Heather reported to the small man. ‘Some bruises and grazes, nothing major.’
‘Excellent’ he responded, extending an open hand to the new arrival. ‘My name is Henry Sawyer. I’m here to help you. It’s Ben Reilly, isn’t it?’
Ben felt a shudder ripple down his spine. Dave Tattersall’s vengeful words were fresh in his head but there was a longer game to play here. ‘Uh, hello’ he stuttered, trying not to show disgust at the man’s touch.
‘We have a bit to discuss and then you can rest’ said Sawyer. ‘But I want you to meet someone first.’
Nodding to the soldier, Sawyer stepped back as the door was opened once more. Standing there, misty-eyed, was Matt.
‘Hello bro’ he croaked.
Ben tried to speak but the words caught in his throat. Instead he rushed forward, throwing his arms around his brother. Together they descended into a collection of heaving gasps, unleashing emotions that had been held in check for far too long. In stark contrast, Henry Sawyer looked on without a single trace of emotion.
Two miles away, their many bodies spanning the motorway, a rotting, pulsing army of zombies continued their steady approach. Their low moan was interspersed with snarls and hisses as they pushed past abandoned cars and lurched through charred areas bestrewn with broken glass. Now six-hundred strong, they continued to head in one direction.
~ 12 ~
The last time Ben had seen his brother cry was when they were little boys. Matt had not even shed any tears at their parents’ funerals, something that was an issue for Ben at the time. Matt Reilly didn’t do emotion; it was that simple. Yet here he was, crying like a baby in his brother’s arms.
‘I tried to save them’ he sobbed. ‘But I couldn’t.’
Ben held him tighter and fought to hold back his own
tears. Ashley Layton had already implied it, but here was final confirmation that Ben’s sister-in-law and nephew were undeniably, unequivocally dead.
‘Matt, I’m so sorry.’
The younger Reilly pulled away and wiped his eyes. Then he put his hands over his scalp and rubbed his cropped hair before looking back up at his brother. ‘What about Katie? Is she-‘
‘She’s okay’ answered Ben, immediately feeling the pangs of survivor guilt. ‘She’s safe for now, along with a few other people.’
Matt nodded with a sad smile. ‘Good. That’s good...’
Ben embraced his brother again, more than a little aware of the close proximity of the others in the room, particularly Henry Sawyer. Clearly mulling things over, the little man moved a step closer.
‘Forgive me’ he said quietly, leaning in. ‘We have secure walls and fences here. We have a programme in place to evacuate survivors to other guarded areas. Wherever your wife and these other people are, it won’t be safer than what we can offer here.’
Ben clenched his jaw and gulped. His loathing of this man was absolute, but there was a role here that had to be played. He only hoped that he could continue to keep his hatred hidden. ‘Really?’ he replied, as submissively as possible. ‘They could come here?’
‘Of course, yes. We have a number of armoured buses at our disposal. We could send a troop of soldiers to fetch them. Where are they exactly?’
‘There’s a community centre at the end of Orpington High Street. They’re hiding in there.’
Sawyer straightened and slowly tapped his finger against his bottom lip. He glanced toward the guard standing by the door.
‘It was my understanding that area had been searched already.’
‘There’s a large cellar beneath the main hall. We hid in there, away from the dead.’
Sawyer nodded and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket. Ben smiled on the inside, remembering Paige’s last piece of advice. Whatever you say to them - do it with confidence and they’ll believe you.
‘We had a vote’ Ben continued. ‘Four of us found a car that worked and went off to search for help. We got as far as Knockholt and then it conked out right near a crowd of those things.’
‘What happened to your fellow passengers?‘
‘They didn’t make it.’
Sawyer lowered his eyes. ‘I understand.’
‘The plan was for us to get back to the others in a couple of days. We told them to stay put and keep out of sight. Can you help them? I don’t know how much longer they can last...’
‘Of course’ said the little man. ‘I’ll have a bus arranged to leave here shortly. How many people are there?’
‘Around sixty or seventy.’
‘Two buses then. Although it will mean postponing the next load of evacuees.’
‘I’m sure they’ll understand if you explain why’ chimed Matt.
Sawyer shook his head. ‘No, they mustn’t know about this. Not yet. Not until those people are back here. If they know that there’s a load more survivors out there then everyone will insist on going to try and find their missing relatives. No, we need to stay organised. We have to keep this between us.’
‘And how are we gonna do that?’ asked Matt, gesturing toward his brother. ‘People are bound to want to talk to him.’
Sawyer rubbed his brow, looking increasingly perturbed. ‘Please stay here for now. All of you. I’ll have some food and drink sent along. Let me arrange the buses now and then we’ll talk again in a while.’
The little man moved toward the door, whispering to the guard on his way out of the room. As the door closed the soldier moved in front of it once more.
‘Is he okay?’ Ben asked his brother.
‘Who, Sawyer?’ replied Matt. ‘Yeah. He’s probably pissed off that his men missed your lot the first time around. He probably can’t believe they fucked up so badly. He doesn’t take criticism too well, our Henry.’
‘Steady, Matt’ advised Heather, noticing the soldier flinching at his comments.
‘Aw, he knows I’m only kidding. Jesus, when did people get so sensitive?’
Ben gulped. The plan was working so far, but he really needed to be able to speak to Matt in private. Could he trust Heather? Probably - but probably wouldn’t cut it – he needed to be absolutely sure. Either way, all the time the soldier was standing guard just a few feet away, it was a moot point. It would, however, take a little while for two buses and a troop of soldiers to make their way through to Orpington to discover that his whole story was a lie. The one advantage was that every form of electronic communication seemed to be out of action.
That might just buy him the extra time he needed.
Paige Ryder stared through the long grass from her prone position by the fence. An hour had passed since she had sent Ben on his way and watched him taken inside the main building amid a flurry of activity. A smattering of survivors out for their morning leg-stretch had been summoned back inside too, and now all was quiet apart from two guards stationed outside the double-door entrance. Paige bit her bottom lip. Ben seemed like a good man, probably capable of what they needed him to do, but what if he lost it again like he’d done after the big man was killed? What if he broke down and told them everything?
If that happened then they were all fucked.
‘See anything yet?’ came a hushed voice from behind her. It was the skin-headed Dave Tattersall, crawling up through the grass to join her.
Paige scowled. ‘You should be keeping a look-out with the others.’
‘They’ve got it covered. Anyway, who the fuck put you in charge?’
The young woman rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not in charge, Dave. I’m just doing my bit, the same as you are. Now stop being a cock. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.’
Dave Tattersall’s face reddened with anger. No one had ever spoken to him like that. Years of road-rage incidents and disputes with neighbours had earned him a formidable, well-deserved local reputation. And yet here he was, rocked by a spiky-haired girl showing big enough balls to give him grief. Enough was enough, though; some things could not be tolerated.
‘You little-‘
‘Hold on!’ hissed Paige, pointing straight ahead. ‘Look!’
His face still contorted in rage, the skinhead looked through the fence and off into the distance. A group of black-clad soldiers, probably eight or nine of them, were spilling out through the main entrance and crossing the car park on their way to two stationary buses. With a discharge of oily smoke, both engines rumbled to life as the armed men climbed on board. At this point the two soldiers stationed by the front entrance left their posts and sprinted toward the main gates. Unlocking and hauling them open as fast as they could, they stood sharply aside as the vehicles roared past.
Paige’s face lit up. ‘He’s done it! He must’ve done it!’
Dave sneered. ‘Maybe he’s given us up.’
‘No, look, they’re heading out. He’s bloody done it!’
Smiling broadly, Paige looked sideways at her colleague. The redness in Dave Tattersall’s face was fading as he watched the buses disappear out of sight around a corner. Apoplectic with rage just a few moments earlier, he gave a loud sigh and turned to face her.
‘You ever call me a cock again, I’ll punch your lights out. Girl or not.’
‘Fair enough. But if you ever call me bitch, or slag, or dyke, then I’ll stab you or shoot you or beat you with whatever I’ve got nearest to hand. Agreed?’
Paige extended her open hand to the shocked man, raising her eyebrows at the same time. Dave paused before sighing again but took her hand and shook it firmly. Paige was certain that she saw a flicker of a smile ghost over his brutish face.
‘Silly cow’ he mumbled.
‘Twat’ she replied, almost immediately.
The mass of zombies had climbed the hill on the far side of Sevenoaks town centre when they heard the sound. The grumbling engines were like a rumble of thunder
, giving direction to their ponderous amble. There was no thought or logic to them; just a very simple ‘Pavlov’s dog’ type of action and reaction.
Noise meant people.
People meant food.
~ 13 ~
‘Any chance I can get dressed now?’ asked Ben, holding out his arms while looking at Heather. She nodded and went to a shelf by the window, returning with a bundle of clothes which she handed to him.
‘They aren’t the ones you were wearing’ she added, noticing his quizzical reaction. ‘We had to get rid of them, for the sake of hygiene. These should fit you though.’
Ben held up a navy blue sweatshirt and grey jogging pants, assessing that both were a little on the large side.
‘Any underwear - or something I can put on my feet?’ he asked, hooking the garments over one arm.
‘You’ll have to go commando I’m afraid, but here are some socks.’ Tossing him a pair of white sport socks, she added: ‘What shoe size are you? There’s a whole mess of trainers in the trunk in the corner.’
Ben shuffled over to a large storage chest at the far end of the room and opened it up. A large jumble of used footwear was inside, with and without laces. The box smelled musty in comparison to the clinical scent of the rest of the room.
‘It’s the old lost and found stuff’ added Heather.
‘Matt?’ Ben asked his brother. ‘Do me a favour. See if you can find a nine while I get changed?’
Matt Reilly scratched his scalp and rose from the padded bench where he had been reclining. As he began to rifle through the footwear, Ben slipped into the bathroom and started to pull the door to.
‘Leave it open’ commanded the man by the door.
Matt gave the soldier a questioning glance while Ben pushed the door ajar once more but then retreated back out of sight.
Ben’s head was spinning and his heart was pounding. Standing beside the still dripping shower, he disrobed and quickly put the clothes on, pulling the joggers up and tying the cord as tightly as he could. Then, after wiping his moist palms on the sweatshirt, he stepped back into the main room. Matt was waiting for him with a pair of battered blue trainers in hand.
