Biocorp had not accounted for the winter weather conditions in the Australian Alps, and many of the living had fled to the colder regions in a desperate attempt to escape. The skiing resort of Mount Buller in Victoria had never seen so many guests; it had accommodation facilities that were designed to hold a maximum seventy thousand guests at any one time, but already there was twice that amount staying in the camp, popular for its proximity to Melbourne. Every day more survivors had arrived on foot, but the number that made the journey had dwindled in comparison to the first few hectic days. On the first few days hundreds had arrived on an hourly basis, but soon the roads became inaccessible and people had to resort to travelling by foot, in the freezing conditions; many died in their quest to reach safety.
The freezing conditions outside of the village had created the perfect quarantine conditions; anyone bitten never made it anywhere near the camp. They would instead, eventually join the ranks of the millions of zombies that were frozen in place, mile away from the resort. Survivors who now made it to Mount Buller alive could often be heard recanting stories of an army of the undead, frozen in place, stretching across the landscape. It gave the village much needed time to fortify its borders, before the big thaw came. The leaders of the village were under no illusion; when the thaw came, so would the undead.
Anyone now arriving into the area was given a bed and some food, and the next day they were put to work to earn their keep. Two British backpackers who had been in the village for two weeks regretted their decision to live their dream and travel the world. Jason Patrick and Talha Munshi had always dreamed of taking a year off from their studies and fly around the globe. The reality that they would never see their friends of families ever again, hurt them deeply. By chance a family member of Talha’s had contacted the phycology student out of the blue; he had two round the world tickets to offload, after a client had cancelled their trip and offered them to Talha for such a ridiculous price that he and his friend Jason, just couldn’t refuse. A day hadn’t gone past that Talha wished he hadn’t answered that telephone call.
The British pair now had to work tirelessly every day to build a wall that by all accounts would never hold against the immense numbers of undead that waited for their frozen limbs to thaw out. Other stories of the world falling to Day Zed were relayed to them by fellow travellers on a daily basis; news that just five percent of the world’s population now survived, troubled the two young men’s mind even further. Knowing that they would probably never be able to get back to their own country gave them little cause for hope, but they felt that they had to try. Finally they had decided that tonight was the right time for them to leave Mount Buller behind them, and attempt to get back to Britain, even if it killed them.
Whilst they were busy building a wall their packs were sat ready, back at their tent. The pair had stayed up most of the night, packing whatever supplies they could get their hands on. Over the past week they had survived on half rations and stowed away the other halves, from the numerous hungry eyes; food was now the most valuable resource, even though they were living in a controlled environment. Despite being careful in their attempts at secreting the food away unnoticed, they had been seen. As Jason was just placing another brick on his part of the wall, his and Talha’s packs were being stolen.
In a village containing so many inhabitants milling around at any given time, no one noticed the two little boys navigating the maze of corridors, between the tents. When they emerged from one tent with their stolen packs, it went unnoticed. The boy at the front was carrying Jason’s camouflage bag on his back, and was already getting annoyed with his younger brother, who was struggling to carry the second pack that had a company’s name emblazoned across the front of it. Lachlan Morton at the age of seven was a lot stronger than his five year old sibling Jayden. He had to keep stopping in order for Jayden to catch him up, at least it would only take another ten minutes to get back to their secret hiding place, and once there they would be able to rest and check the contents of their stolen bags.
The two brothers had been raised in the village. With both their mother and father working in the hospitality sector, working all the hours that they could, bringing up Jayden largely fell to Lachlan. This often meant that the boys found themselves in trouble, and the hiding place they used had saved them from pursuers on many occasions, over the last year. Lachlan had thought that with the tents for the new arrivals taking up more and more space each day that their second home, under the creek bridge would finally be discovered, but as yet it hadn’t. Why someone years ago, during the bridges construction had chosen to build a storage room underneath, Lachlan couldn’t work out. The boys had found the small wooden door, set into the bricks, purely by chance; they had lost their football in amongst the wild grass that filled the tunnel. In the winter, when the grass died back it was replaced with dislodged snow, from the creek banks and Lachlan always made sure that he covered the door with a stack of rubbish for added camouflage.
The little boy pulled the piled rubbish away from the door and ushered his brother into the doorway. He lit the gasoline lamp by the entrance and waited for it to illuminate the area around them, before he closed the door. Eager to find what treasures that they had stolen this time the boys placed the two bags next to each other on the floor, in front of them. “What one will we open first?” Jayden enthusiastically asked his older brother. Lachlan kept his eyes fixed upon the two packs, whilst he rubbed at his chin in an exaggerated show of thought, making Jayden wait that little bit longer, until he was ready to burst with excitement. “Lachlan come on? Make your mind up?” The older brother laughed, his tease had worked again, he then pointed towards the larger of the two bags; the one with the company name printed on it.
Jayden wrestled with the series of zips, and then began to tear the bags contents out on the floor. He asked his brother, “What’s the funny writing say on the side?” Lachlan studied the logo but shook his head, “I don’t know Jayden. Half of the writing is missing, it’s been worn away. It starts with a letter B.” It took the younger of the boys less than a minute to tear everything out of the bag, across the floor. Now he checked that nothing remained hidden, stashed in a secret pocket, hidden form plain sight. Lachlan watched as he struggled with something in the bag, he was perplexed to see Jayden almost climb inside the large rucksack, only to begin tugging at the bottom of it. “Jayden, what the hell are you doing?” He asked as irritation got the better of him. “Hold on Lachlan, can’t you see I’m busy?” Came Jayden’s muffled reply. “Yeah busy doing what?” “There’s something hidden in the bottom stupid.” Jayden cheekily answered his older brother. “Don’t talk nonsense, come out now and let me look at it?”
Jayden reluctantly exited the large back pack, protesting at his enforced removal when Lachlan punched him. “Do what you’re told for once?” Lachlan ordered him, as he removed the small pen knife from his back pocket. After climbing into the bag himself and tapping the base of it Lachlan was surprised to find that his brother had been telling the truth; something had definitely been concealed under the lining. Lachlan instantly began cutting away at the stitched seams’ around the bottom of the bag, it didn’t take him long to cut the bottom free from its stitching. “Jay hand me a torch, will you?” The younger brother obeyed the request and quickly retrieved a small flash light from their stash at the back of the dingy room. He rushed back to the bag and thrust the torch into his outstretched hand. “What have you found Lachlan?” Jayden asked, struggling to contain his excitement. “I don’t know it’s some kind of weird tube with the same name written on it as the bag.” Jayden began to jump up and down, “Can you read the writing on it?” There was a slight pause from Lachlan, “Yeah it says Biocorp Pharmaceuticals.” Lachlan finally told his brother.
Now with the flashlight focussed on the once concealed container, Lachlan could see that it was secured to the bag with three cable clips. Each of the ties easily snapped as Lachlan used his blade on them. When he tugg
ed the canister free from its fixings, it began to spray a fine mist of vapour, catching Lachlan in the face. He spat out the foul tasting liquid in front of him, and threw the bottle over towards the back of the room as he frantically wiped at his face with his hands. The sight of the silver bottle flying to the rear, was too much for Jayden to handle, he had to hold the canister himself. Before Lachlan had a chance to tell him to leave the canister alone, it was in his brothers hands; he had picked it up. Lachlan finished backing out of the bag, and once free of his confines he began to violently vomit. Jayden watched in sheer horror, his grip tightening on the silver bottle, as fear spread through him. The little boy only released his grip as a wave of nausea swept over him, and he joined his brother on the floor, on all fours.
At some stage he must have fainted? Lachlan thought to himself as he came to with the early evening light burning his sore eyes. He could remember after his bout of vomiting had stopped that he had attempted to get help. When he had tried to stand, he had found that he didn’t have the energy to complete the simple task, and had to resort to crawling along the floor. Flashbacks reminded him of the headache hammering away inside of his head, and a fever that had blurred his vision during the crawl to the wooden door. He could now remember that pushing that little wooden door open had used up the last of any energy left in his body, it had felt so heavy that it was as if the door was made of lead. He didn’t even possess the energy to call out to his prone brother, or even turn his head to look back at him. With an intense fever burning up inside him Lachlan once again slipped into unconsciousness, he was still unconscious when his body began to rock with agonising spasms.
It had been a long day for the two backpackers. Both of them still found manual labour tedious and draining; student lifestyles didn’t lend themselves to helping the two men handle physical challenges. Neither of them had the energy to leave the village tonight; instead they planned to eat their last rationed meal, then wash it down with a copious amount of alcohol and then retire early to bed. In the morning they intended to leave this place behind them, in an attempt to trek home. First before anything they would return to their tent and clean the residues left behind from a hard days graft off of themselves in the communal showers.
Jason was the first of the pair to reach their tent’s door and courteously held the flap open for his following friend. Talha thanked him and walked towards where they usually slept. The sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks, just a few feet from the foot of his bed, and Jason heard him cry out, “No.” As he dived to the floor he frantically checked under the bed, where both of their bags should now be. Talha began to overturn their bedding in a desperate hope that someone had just moved them. “What’s wrong mate?” Jason asked, still oblivious to their loss. “Some bastards stolen our gear Jason.” All Jason could do was shake his head, dismissing what his friend was saying, “No don’t be silly, they’ve got to be here somewhere?” Jason offered, as he moved in to help his friend locate the bags. He was caught off guard when his lifelong friend turned to face him, with his face contorted in rage. “You show me where they fucking are then?” The usually placid Talha ranted at him.
Just as Jason was about to let off a return volley in Talha’s direction a woman’s scream, from somewhere outside stopped him. The friends ran to the front of the tent, they stepped outside into a seemingly foreign world; as screams ran up and down the usually peaceful camp. They stood transfixed as people began to run past them; it looked like they were running from the two little rascal brothers that Jason recognised by their matching blond locks. Jason grimaced, as he watched one woman fall to the ground, and then the two little brothers that were covered in blood, both fell to the ground next to her; it wasn’t until the older of the brothers wrenched his head upwards, tearing the nose from the woman’s face with his teeth that the backpackers realised exactly what was happening.
Liverpool Street Station, London, 1st August, 10:15 GMT
For the last three days the seven remaining survivors had been holed up in the deserted station. Their initial intention was to rest for a day, and then try to escape London before the General’s men managed to track them down; that day had turned into two in order to allow everyone to get more rest, as they were exhausted. Even when they had managed to stay safe for that first fortnight, every one of them had worked and toiled; this was the first real rest that any of them had taken since leaving Chatsworth the very first time.
At the end of the second day things took a turn for the worse, when the first of the helicopters appeared. For the past few hours one had become two, as they searched the streets looking for their precious nuclear launch codes. Everyone including Morgan had eyed Kathy with sheer shock when she removed the codes from their secure canister, and then proceeded to set them on fire. “Whatever happens to us, at least each of us will know that we weren’t responsible for Britain being nuked.” She said whilst still clinging to the burning sheet of paper. Kathy didn’t drop the remnants of it, until the encroaching flame licked upwards at her hand.
The group returned their focus to the sound of the two circling choppers. Jackson nodded upwards as he asked, “What chances are there of them coming down and searching for us on foot?” “None at the moment mate. Judging by the way they are circling all over the city, they haven’t got a clue where we are yet.” Morgan quickly replied. “So we just wait for that to happen?” Penny interrupted the soldier’s discussion. “No Penny we have to leave today. But it’s not just the helicopters we are trying to avoid.” Kathy answered for he lover. “What else is there that we don’t know about Kath?” Kathy offered Penny a smile before going on to answer her, “No Pen, we know about the zombies, of course we do. I just don’t think any of us can be ready for the volumes we are going to see as we move through inhabited areas. Penny sat and thought about Kathy’s answer, she wasn’t sure if she knew what Kathy was implying. Kathy didn’t wait for her to ask again, choosing to explain he answer, “The noise them two birds are making, will draw every undead to them for miles.” Penny began nodding and shuddered as she wondered just how many of the cadavers that the noisy choppers would lure to the area around them.
Even now as the helicopters began to move away from their location, everyone could hear the undead, their moans even louder than before. Despite these monsters seemingly possessing the lowest form of intelligence, they knew by instinct that the foreign noise that was being made by the helicopters, could only be made by living prey. Although the initial appearance of the flying machines had drawn all of the attention of the hungry cadavers away from the stations entrance, there was no other reason to be thankful for their presence. It was a simple equation for the group; the appearance of the helicopters meant that General Harper still wanted his codes, and he wanted them badly.
“I suggest we leave now.” Morgan said as he rose from the ground. He then added, “Whilst we are leaving the city, we just have to make sure we remain hidden. Once outside we will be out of their view.” There were no questions or protests, from any of the others as they simultaneously rose together. Each of them silently picked up their full packs, and then slung them over their shoulders, waiting for Morgan to retrieve his own. As soon as the soldier had his own pack in place, upon his back, he moved off, and one by one in single file they moved towards the train tracks that led away from the station; leading away from the wasteland that London had now become.
The group stopped just short of the ticket barriers which ran across the front of the platforms entrance. “Everybody happy with our planned route?” Morgan asked them. Only when a unanimous nod had come from each of them, did Morgan move forward, as he climbed over the barrier. Looking out at the multitude of train lines intertwining with each other, Morgan wondered if it was possible to take the wrong track. He could remember using the rail system himself in the past and the Essex bound trains had always seemed to leave from one of the last four platforms; there must have been a reason for that, and he assumed that if they
followed those same tracks that he may just be able to escape to safety.
They had only travelled a few hundred feet when they all heard the too familiar sound of the approaching helicopters. Morgan quickly scanned around their location, they needed somewhere to hide, and the only available option to them was underneath one of the abandoned trains just ahead of them. “Right, let’s go.” The soldier told them as he motioned towards the abandoned train with his hand. Everyone immediately picked up their pace, without having to be asked to; they had the motivation of avoiding the approaching helicopters to spur them on. As soon as they reached the twelve carriage train, Morgan made sure each of them crawled underneath it and lay in single file, between the tracks that the train sat on. He had already asked Gerard if the tracks were still live, just before they left the safety of the once busy train station. Morgan knew that the energy supplies had been switched off by the authorities long ago, but feared what tricks the General still had left up his sleeve to play.
As the twin hum of the approaching choppers began to engulf the entire area, Morgan looked out in front of him, across the deserted train tracks. A thin wire fence separated the train tracks from the large factory across the way, and the soldier took a dry gulp of air as his eyes fell upon a small group of the undead as they made their way towards the fence. Somehow they must have become aware of the groups presence in the vicinity, as they soon began clawing at thin wire barrier in front of them. Most of the re-animated corpses seemed to be wearing the same type of apparel, and Morgan wondered if it was some sort of work uniform. It would go some way to explaining why the factory grounds were populated with the undead. He hoped that the fence held, whilst he and his friends sought refuse underneath the train carriage. If it gave in it would mean that the group would have to defend themselves against both the zombies and the General’s men at the same time.
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