Sudden Death: A Zombie Novel

by James Carlson

  “I’m not happy with letting them just sit there,” Chuck shouted. “I’d rather kill them than risk our lives.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, give it a rest,” Amy bellowed back, turning on him and squaring up to the big man, never having looked more diminutive than she did right then. “If you so much as touch either of these men, I swear I’ll… I’ll… Well, I don’t know what, but you’d better not.”

  The paramedic then took a glass from Jay and passed it to Raj. The inhuman man took it, eying it warily and took a sip. Satisfied that there was no odd taste to the liquid, he then guzzled the rest down in two gulps.

  The second newcomer took his glass from Amy and attempted to pour the contents into the obscene hole in his face. The water spilled everywhere, drenching his filthy tattered shirt.

  “Hang on,” Jay said, racing back into the kitchen.

  He returned a few seconds later with a pink plastic curly straw and dropped it into the glass. Amy assisted the injured man in feeding the tip of it into the mess of a hole at the top of his neck. Though it was almost hidden from view, she was able to see the tip of his tongue curl around the plastic tube. Water then drew up the straw, twirling around all the bends, before entering the man’s mouth. He swallowed repeatedly without spilling another drop and Amy smiled at him.

  Chuck continued to stand over the two ex-zombies, assessing them. The Indian man, though he was trying to appear relaxed, was clearly a coiled spring. He had an air of restrained energy and those eyes of his had a look the big man had only seen before on the faces of predatory animals, such as sharks or lions.

  Raj felt extremely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the black man’s scrutiny that was bothering him. Though he still felt wary at being in an enclosed space with these nervous people, it wasn’t any of them that were the cause of his discomfort. It was his own company he didn’t like. The terrible images of his wife’s death continued to replay themselves over and over in his mind. She had been the first of his victims. There had been many more since. His own humanity lost to him, his burning hunger had driven him to kill again and again. Though he now felt had held a level of control over his own mind again and his hunger had diminished considerably, he still feared the possibility of losing control and killing again.

  He didn’t blame the big African man for glaring at him that way. Looking back up at him, he put his wrists together and extended his arms.

  “See, he’s okay with being tied up,” Chuck said, jumping on the gesture and immediately starting to look around for something with which to bind him.

  “It’s not happening,” Amy said adamantly.

  “Fine. See what happens,” Chuck spat out, and mumbling obscenities, stomped off out onto the balcony for a smoke.

  Amy dug out some yellow marigolds from one of the boxes of goodies they had brought from the other flats. Putting them on, she then continued to examine the two men.

  “This really is incredible,” she said to herself, as she shone a small torch into Raj’s eyes.

  Turning to do the same to the other man, she saw the open fear he was still feeling. Other than Chuck, the rest of the group were still stood over them, gathered around the sofa. Even Digby’s wedge of a head, pushing between people’s legs, was watching on with quizzical concern.

  “Will you all stop staring?” Amy asked protectively. “Put the telly on or something.”

  Only now realising how they had been behaving, the others jolted and milled around, looking for something else to do, to take their attention away from the fascinating men. Muz picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flicking it back to the news channel.

  “We have with us,” the station’s anchor man said, “Doctor Tun-Hou Lee, Professor of Virology, currently heading studies at the Department of Immunology and Infectious Diseases, and arguably the world’s foremost specialist in the study of the historical spread of pandemics. Good afternoon, Doctor.”

  “Good afternoon,” the aging Chinese man nodded.

  “May I first ask you the question at the forefront of everyone’s minds?” the perfectly groomed anchorman continued. “In your expert opinion, what is the likelihood of the continued success in containing the spread of the north London epidemic?”

  “Despite the Government’s and the Military’s assurances that they have everything in hand,” Doctor Lee replied, “it would be foolish to become complacent regarding the control of such a remarkably virulent organism.

  “It is my opinion that the only reason the authorities were fortunate enough to contain this at all was because the initial outbreak of the voracious infection took place in the early hours of the morning, when most people were still in their beds and there was therefore minimal commuter travel.”

  “Fortunate?” Muz growled angrily at the TV. “Yeah, I feel very bleeding fortunate.”

  “The inherent problem with an event such as this taking place in modern times,” the Doctor went on, “is that the world has become a very small place indeed. We are extremely lucky that this outbreak did not occur in a more central borough of London.

  “Had that been the case, commuters may have spread the problem much further afield before anyone would have even been aware of its existence. Infected people could have boarded planes at City and Heathrow airports, the ramifications of which would have been catastrophic.

  “As it stands, because the outbreak took place in a more rural outer borough with a relatively low population density, successful containment is entirely possible.”

  “That’s comforting to know,” the anchorman said.

  “But it shouldn’t be taken for granted,” Doctor Lee added.

  “And what can you tell us at this time about the cause of this horrific affliction?”

  “What we know,” Doctor Lee answered, “is that no known bacteriophage, other virus or any adaptation thereof, could cause the bizarre and dramatic cellular transformations we’re seeing in infected specimens. Other than that, we cannot at this stage of our studies say what it is.”

  “They know,” Raj said.

  The sound of the man suddenly speaking caused Amy actually to leap up off the sofa with fright. Everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing to look at him, surprised to find that even an ex-zombie was able to talk. Even the man without a jaw, his eyebrows rising in surprise, turned his head to face the Indian man sat beside him. Raj too was just as shocked by the two words that had escaped his throat. It was the first time he had spoken in the eight days since the amoeboid cells had taken control of him.

  “How do you know they know what it is?” Muz asked him.

  Raj however simply looked at the TV blankly.

  “What do you know?” Muz now asked louder, an element of anger creeping into his voice.

  Raj’s mental lucidity however had once again fallen from his control for the time being, and though he stared at the images of the news room on the TV, it was his own memories of torture and gore that played out in front of his eyes.

  “If you know anything at all, please tell us,” Amy implored but it was no use. All further attempts to coerce any more words out of him were pointless. “I don’t know what’s going on in his head right now, but his eyes have glazed over.”

  After that, the group left the two men to sit looking uncomfortable and out of place on the sofa, while they went about the domestic tasks they had managed to settle into, despite the chaos of the world outside.

  “Are you sure they can be trusted?” Margaret asked, as she and Jay washed and dried the pots. She was still extremely unsettled at having infected people in their flat.

  “They haven’t shown any aggression at all, even when Chuck threatened them,” Amy told her, as she squatted beside the other woman, feeding a pile of clothes into the washing machine. She felt guilty at putting the elderly woman through this, but the two men were just too important to let go.

  “I suppose we should feed them,” Margaret suggested. “We wouldn’t want them getting hungry.”
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  Having finished the washing up, she took the tea towel from Jay and dried her hands. Calming herself with a deep breath, she then walked through to the living room. Jay followed. Since the new arrivals had entered their place of safety, he refused to leave the woman’s side.

  “I have to tell you that our rations are quite limited in their variety, but is there anything in particular that you gentlemen would like to eat?” Margaret asked the two men. She spoke loudly and slowly, as though they were hard of hearing or foreigners.

  “Kate,” Raj mumbled, still trapped in his own thoughts.

  “Who’s Kate,” Jay asked Margaret.

  The woman shrugged.

  “She… was my wife,” Raj stammered. “I… I… I ate her.”

  “Oh Lord,” Margaret gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.

  Tom, who was at the booze again, leant forward in his armchair.

  “Take,” he said to Raj, offering him his bottle. “Drink enough and pain of body and in head go away.”

  Raj looked at the bottle in his hand but ignored the man. The other male beside him however snatched the bottle from the Polish man’s fist. He put the neck into his face cavity and began to pour the contents down his throat. After no more than a couple of swigs though, he started coughing, having almost drowned himself. Vodka and spit sprayed everywhere.

  Amy rushed from the kitchen to his aid, standing him up and slapping him on the back.

  “You okay?” she asked when his spluttering subsided.

  The mutilated man nodded and gave her a look of gratitude. He then held the bottle, dripping with spit, out for Tom to take.

  “You keep,” Tom told him with an expression of disgust.

  “If you’re that bothered about them,” Chuck said to Muz out on the balcony. “I think we should just stuff them in the Jankel, drive them to the cordon and throw them out. Let the top brass decide what to do with them.”

  “You know they’ll just be shot without whoever’s in charge out there being told,” Muz responded.

  Chuck shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They’re never going to be right again, never going to be human again. Even that one that’s recovered from its injuries. It moves and behaves more like an animal than a person now.”

  “But they could hold the clues to a…”

  “They’re not cured,” Chuck cut him off. “They’re not going to give us a cure. Be realistic. The only thing they could possibly offer us is a way of extending the suffering of those infected.”

  Muz couldn’t think of anything to say to that and so just stood in silence while Chuck finished his fag. The big man flicked what remained of the butt out into the air. He coughed up a large bloody brown lump of mucus and spat it out after the fag.

  “You coming in?” he said to Muz.

  The copper nodded and they went inside.

  “Try this. Sorry it’s not up to much,” Margaret said to the two men on the sofa, offering them a bowl each. “It’s left-overs from earlier.”

  “Mashed potato with chopped up hot dogs mixed in,” Jay said, full of pride for his concoction.

  “As I said, our rations are somewhat limited,” Margaret further apologised.

  The newcomers took the bowls from her and looked down at the contents with disdain. Raj lifted the bowl to his nose, took a tentative sniff and then placed it back in his lap, looking up at Margaret. The other man picked out one of the little circles of sausage section from the mash. Squeezing it in his fingers so it fell apart, in affect chewing with his hands, he then popped the mince into his neck hole. Though he scowled in disgust, he began to dig around in the mash for another piece and repeat the process.

  “I guess dey ain’t dat hungry,” Jay said, feeling a little wounded.

  “Maybe they ate their fill of a kill just before we found them,” Chuck said.

  “Or is maybe they can only eat raw meat now,” Tom suggested.

  Margaret headed back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was pretty bare. Taking out a pack of sausages and some burgers, she presented them to the guests.

  The disfigured man almost leapt out of his seat, as he snatched the raw burgers on the plate from her hand. Tearing off tiny pieces, so as not to choke, he pushed the meat into his hole, eyes rolling up with pleasure.

  Even Raj showed a modicum of emotion at the sight of the food. His eyes widened and he gratefully took the sausages, devouring the chain of fatty links greedily.

  “Aw cuz, dat is proper disgustin’,” Jay said.

  “Well, that’s the last of our meat,” Margaret announced. “I don’t know what we can feed them from now on.”

  “And what is Digby going to eat?” Amy asked.

  “Forget the dog. What am I going to eat?” Chuck wanted to know.

  “You aren’t going to starve anytime soon,” Muz told him. He felt that, as Carl was no longer with them, someone had to fill his boots.

  “There’s other stuff that we can eat,” Margaret reassured the big man with the big appetite.

  “I’ve seen the stock pile,” Chuck told her. “We’re almost out of everything.”

  “We haven’t even touched any of the cans of macaroni cheese or prunes.”

  “No, and they won’t be getting touched either,” Chuck said moodily. “All they’re good for is throwing at zombie heads.”

  “Judging by their rapid tissue regeneration, these men are going to need a lot of food,” Amy said. “Particularly the one who is still badly injured.”

  The room went silent for a moment, as they all contemplated the situation.

  “We’re going to have to do another ration run then,” Chuck declared.

  “But we’ve checked every flat in the block,” Muz told him. “There’s nothing left.”

  “We’re just going to have to raid another block,” Chuck replied, though he hated the idea himself. “We knew it was going to come to that eventually.”

  Everyone had known that, as they had watched their food stores steadily deplete over the passing days, but until now, no one had wanted to bring it up. As far as bad ideas went, it was right up there with the best of them. It was impossible to guess how many afflicted people might be lurking in the other blocks.

  “What choice do we have?” Chuck asked when no one responded.

  “There is a better option,” Muz told him. “I’ve been thinking about it. Over past the far side of the estate, at Cannon Corner, where the A5 meets Spur Road, there’s a petrol station mini-market.”

  “Two problems with that,” Chuck responded, dismissing it instantly. “It’s probably been looted already, like all the other shops, and I’m guessing it’s right on top of the cordon. We could be shot.”

  “Not if we take the Jankel through the estate,” Muz explained. “We wouldn’t come into the line of sight of the west cordon until we were on top of the petrol station. We could back the truck right up to the shop doors. Compared to searching another block, it would be minimal risk.”

  Chuck’s eyes were filled with suspicion as he looked at the copper. Was this just a ruse to get close to the cordon and attempt to break through again, he wondered.

  “Sounds good,” Jay said.

  Chuck glared at him.

  “There’s also a Mackie D’s next door,” Muz added.

  “Dat’s right,” Jay said excitedly. “Sweet.”

  “It’ll have stocks of raw burger meat in the freezers for these fellas,” Muz continued to argue his point. “The noise we might cause breaking into the mini-market and the Mackie D’s would be preferable to the extended period of noise of kicking in countless flat doors for a smaller reward.”

  “How far?” Tom asked.

  “No more than a minute’s drive,” Muz told him.

  “Okay, okay,” Chuck caved. “You’ve made your point.”

  “But who is stay here?” Tom asked. “Zombies cannot go and should not stay alone.”

  “He’s right,” Chuck said. “We can’t drag those things along with us.
We don’t know how they might react in an adverse situation. I don’t want to be having to keep one eye on them while I’m fighting off other crazies.”

  “Okay,” Muz said. “So, who stays behind with Ninja Man and Silent Sam?”

  “I’ll stay here with them. They’re my patients now,” Amy said.

  It was true that she felt the need to look after the men, but if the full truth be known, the main reason for her volunteering was down to her beginning to develop an unnerving level of agoraphobia.

  “Fine but you can’t stay alone. You’ll need a bit of muscle if they do kick off,” Muz told her.

  “So, you admit you don’t trust them,” Chuck said with a hint of triumph.

  “I’m just been cautious,” the copper told him. “Tom, would you mind staying here with her?”

  Tom scowled. “But I am want to go.”

  Out of all the survivors, he was the only one who had been looking forward to the prospect of going out and smashing some zombie heads. It wasn’t that he was normally a violent man; he just needed some serious exercise to escape his own thoughts. He hated the idea of something happening to Amy though.

  “Please,” Muz begged.

  “Okay, I stay with little nurse,” Tom said reluctantly.

  “Margaret,” Muz said. “I think you should stay here too.”

  “And would that be based on my age or my gender,” the woman retorted defiantly. “I’m going.”

  “But...,” Muz began.

  “Safety in numbers,” Margaret said over him.

  The truth was that she would rather go outside, with the safety of the Jankel between her and any potential attackers, than remain in the flat with these two men whom they knew nothing about. She still wasn’t sure she could trust them.

  “She is a good fighter,” Chuck admitted, though he felt strange saying it.

  “Okay,” Muz conceded.

  “If Margaret’s going, I’m going,” Jay stated.

  “How terribly sweet of you,” the elderly woman said, rubbing his stubbly hair affectionately.

  “Okay, it’s decided,” Muz said. “We’ll wait until after dark then head out.”

  “Make sure to bring plenty vodka,” Tom told him.