“Hi Steve. We wondered what you were going to do in the current situation and wanted to suggest that we, and perhaps you and the other neighbours, block off the close with our cars.”
“We are going to lock the house up as they suggested on the news, and blocking the close off sounds a good plan to me,” replied Steve.
We continued to number 33, occupied by Miles and Maria with their three children, two boys and a girl. Miles, who was also a taxi driver working out of Chelmsford, opened the door.
“Hi Miles, not working today, then?”
“No, they cancelled my three o’clock afternoon shift. Apparently, Chelmsford is in complete chaos. I spoke to one of my colleagues just over an hour ago. He just managed to get out in time.”
I asked what he was doing to protect his family and then asked, “How would you feel about blocking the close off with our vehicles?”
“Good idea. We can use the taxi, but my two sons are not home yet so we will have to leave a gap for them to get through. Jeffrey is driving his own car and Martin went over to his school friends. I’m expecting him back shortly, he’s getting a lift from his friends’ parents.” Martin was his younger son, about 15.
“Will Jeffrey be OK?” I had to ask, since the boy had once reversed into our fence, completely demolishing it.
“Oh, he’s a much better driver now,” Miles replied.
“OK, I’ll see you later, Miles. Just going to check on the other neighbours.”
Next, we went to see Andy, our neighbour to the left of us, at number 37. His son Nick, a Jack the Lad type, opened the door. His brother was out, and Andy was still at work. A bit grumpy, Andy would probably ignore everyone and do his own thing anyway, so not being in was OK by me. We gave Nick the gist of what we were trying to do and left him to tell his father.
At 39 was Shirley, a single working mum who lived with her two children. Fortunately, they were all in the house and Shirley said they had started their own preparations, whatever that meant – she did not say.
Next was number 41, the house directly opposite us. Mat and Kylie, a young couple with no children, lived there. Mat was in complete agreement on our plan and offered to help when we were ready.
The house at 43 was home to an older couple, Alf and Jackie. Alf ran his own handyman business, and was very helpful, offering to use his Transit van to block the close entrance. That would be much better than a car, I thought.
Our neighbourhood check complete, John and I returned home, where we found sandwiches and cups of tea waiting.
“Have you spoken to our two daughters recently?” I asked Mary.
“Not yet. What did the neighbours say?”
“In general, they agreed, but Miles and Maria’s two sons haven’t returned home yet.”
We finished our tea and sandwiches and settled down to watch the 6.00 pm news. There seemed to be some delay, and at that moment a car pulled into the close. Mary and Josephine went over to the window to see what was happening, as women do.
“Its Maria’s son, Martin,” said Mary.
I moved to the window to see if he seemed OK. I was just in time to see Martin disappear into the house, his father waiting at the door. I gave a quick wave and Miles signalled back, and then he closed the door. The car that had brought Martin turned round and pulled out of the close with tyres squealing. The driver was obviously in a hurry.
The news started at about 6.05 pm, unusually late for the BBC. The “emergency broadcast” message appeared on the screen before the newsreader came on.
“We are sorry to report that the infection is no longer containable. Unfortunately, the armed forces and emergency services have been depleted due to most of their personnel being infected themselves.
“The disease has not only spread all over the UK, but there are reports that it is also taking hold all over the world. The government has issued this statement about the disease.”
When a person becomes fully infected, the whites of their eyes become completely bloodshot, and they have one single purpose – that is to infect other, uninfected people. They seem to know who is infected and who is not – how, we do not know. They seem to be attracted by the human voice and man-made sounds, for example a car engine.
In addition, and this is the most disturbing part, although they are alive, they are not zombies as has been described in the last newspapers printed, but they have remarkable self-healing powers. It has been reported that many have been shot by the police and armed forces, but even if hit in the lungs or stomach they seem to feel no pain and if not killed instantly they will still keep coming at you. They recover very quickly from their wounds without any medical attention, and we still do not fully understand how.
It is therefore with great regret that we announce that the only method of survival is to lock yourself in your own home and hope they do not get in, or kill them with a wound to the heart or head. We have captured a number of the infected with the aim of creating a vaccine, but this will take some time to develop.
The newsreader then returned to the autocue.
“We will try to bring you brief updates on the hour, but we also have a staff shortage, so this may not be possible. The next news bulletin is scheduled for 8.00 pm. Goodbye for now – and God help us all.”
The screen then went blank. We knew from an earlier announcement that all other programming had been suspended due to staff shortages.
We all sat in silence and just looked at each other.
“Holy shit!” said John, finally breaking the silence.
“What are we going to do now?” Josephine asked in a panic-stricken voice.
“So, what they are saying is that the only way to stop the infected is to kill them,” I said. “I mean, you can only lock yourself away for so long before you run out of food and water.”
“You’d better get the barricade in place first, so they can’t get into the close,” Mary suggested.
“All right, I’ll speak to Miles and see if he has any news from his elder son. We can at least start blocking the close off.”
“Let’s do it, then,” said John.
I spoke to Miles, and he backed his eight-seater taxi up to the wall of the detached house at the end of the close after John had moved his truck into the communal parking area. While that was happening, I spoke to Alf, the handyman at number 43, and backed his Transit up to his garden fence. This left a small gap in the middle, giving just enough room for one car to get through.
I then moved our old Nissan Micra up next to the other vehicles at the start of the close, ready to plug the gap.
We were now waiting for five people to arrive: Andy and his son Matthew at number 37, Mark and Lindsey from number 29, and Miles’s son Jeffrey from number 33.
John and I returned to the house to find Mary putting down the phone.
“I’ve just spoken to Linda and Ruth. Linda is in a panic because she can hear screaming and shouting and they seem to be getting closer. Fortunately, her husband Brian has returned home safely and is helping to calm down their children. The eldest daughter, Elizabeth, is getting a bit agitated as she hasn’t been able to contact her boyfriend. Ruth is OK – in fact she has not seen or heard anything of the infection in person, only what has been on the TV, and her husband Tom is now home.”
“Yes, Ruth should be OK for a while,” I replied. “Maldon is more or less at the end of the line. Linda is in a much worse position than us, living only a mile from Chelmsford town centre.”
“Something is happening outside,” said Josephine. We could hear shouting, so John and I walked out of the front door to investigate, just in time to see Jeffrey running up to his front door.
“You OK, Jeffrey? Where is your car?” I shouted across the street.
His front door was open and Miles appeared, looking very pleased to see him. John and I walked across the roa
d to join them and to find out what had happened.
Jeffrey was obviously out of breath, but told us what had happened to him.
“I got stuck in Springfield Road just before the traffic lights near the prison. There had been an accident further up the road, and as I was waiting I could hear someone shouting from behind me, but it seemed to be a long way off, so I took no notice. After about five minutes there were more shouts, but this time much closer, then there was an ear-piercing scream quite close to me. A woman came running past my car followed by a man, and as the man past he shouted, ‘Run, the infected people are coming’. I got out of the car and looked back down Springfield Road towards the town centre. A man not fifty yards from me had got out of his car to help someone who had been jumped on by a group of infected people, but they turned on him and he was knocked to the ground. The person who had been attacked first was wandering about in a daze, covered in blood. The other person was crying out ‘Help, Help!’ and was bleeding profusely.
“Then the infected seemed to have had enough of him, and saw me. They did not hang about and came straight at me. I tell you I have never been so scared! I just ran as fast as I could at first, but I slowed down after a couple of hundred yards. They are only able to move at a fast walking pace, so I managed to get away.”
Jeffrey had just finished his story when Shirley from number 39 came running up to us.
“Have you seen Zoey?” she asked.
“Err, no – I thought your girls were at home with you,” I replied.
“She was, but I think she went out to see her boyfriend. I didn’t even realise she had gone until five minutes ago.”
“Where does Zoey’s boyfriend live?” asked Miles.
“Down The Chase,” Shirley replied, referring to a street on the other side of the village.
Then her younger daughter, Cheryl, joined us. She was a very pretty, slim girl, and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans with a pair of flip-flops on her feet.
“Mum, where are you going?” she asked.
“We’re going to look for Zoey. You can stay in the house,” her mother replied.
“No, I’ll come with you. I’m not staying in the house on my own,” said Cheryl defiantly.
“OK, but stay close to me.”
“Dad, I’ll go back to the house and check over the MPA,” John interrupted.
“Yes, good idea. It should be similar to the Supreme Max” I replied, trying to speak in some sort of code and hoping that Miles and Shirley did not know what we were talking about. Most English people are not very familiar with firearms, mainly due to our laws.
Miles and I walked up to the main road with Shirley and her daughter, while Jeffrey went into his house to see his mother, Maria. I think he may have had enough for one day.
“Does Zoey have a mobile phone?” asked Miles.
“Yes, but I was getting no reply. I’ll try her again,” replied Shirley.
Shirley extracted her mobile phone from the pocket of her jeans, and started to dial Zoey’s number. You could hear the faint burr, burr as it tried to connect. We all stood in silence waiting for a reply. The mobile then burst into life.
“Mum, Mum, I am on my way back,” said Zoey, sounding out of breath and near to hysteria. “I’m being chased by some very strange people – they have red eyes!”
“Where are you now?” asked Shirley.
“Just coming up St Andrews Road approaching the main road – you know, where the little postbox is.”
We were standing at the top of our close, and could see the small postbox on the opposite side of the road. It was about 250 yards away on the main road heading towards Chelmsford. Zoey appeared next to the postbox and started trotting towards us.
“There she is – I’m going to give her piece of my mind,” Shirley said angrily. She then jogged across the road, followed by her other daughter calling “Wait for me!” and running in hot pursuit. Zoey had seen her mother coming, and had now slowed to a walking pace, probably knowing she was about to get an ear-bashing.
Miles and I stood and watched in amusement.
Shirley and her daughter were about a hundred yards away from us when we saw movement in the hedgerow opposite Zoey. A man appeared and lunged at her, grabbing her arm. She spun round and fell to ground, screaming. Her mother was now quite close and went to her rescue, followed by her younger daughter.
Miles and I looked at each other and started to run towards them at the same time. Shirley started hitting the man about the head and her daughter kicked him in the ribs, but it was too late. The man had bitten Zoey on the arm. Then five more infected people appeared by the postbox and headed towards them. Miles and I were still 100 yards from Shirley and her daughters. We had closed the gap to about 50 yards but the other five infected had reached them, grabbing Shirley and Cheryl and starting to bite them. I noticed the remains of an old post lying close to the hedgerow and called to Miles, “Grab something to hit them with, and don’t let them bite you”.
“Right,” Miles replied.
I grabbed the post and Miles managed to find a large fallen branch. We were now armed, and started to jog towards the unfolding mayhem, fast becoming out of breath. We were now only 25 yards away. Then more than ten new infected appeared by the postbox and headed towards us at what can only be described as a stumbling fast walk – it appeared they had followed Zoey. Then Shirley let out a scream as one of the five infected sank its teeth into her neck and blood poured from the wound. Cheryl was screaming hysterically as she was bitten several times by the new arrivals. By now the second, larger group of infected was nearly upon them.
I grabbed Miles’s arm and shouted “Stop! We can’t help them now – there are too many of them.”
Miles came to a standstill.
“Damn! I feel so helpless,” he said angrily.
At that moment, one of the infected that was bending over Shirley’s now-still body looked at us with a snarling face and made some very strange noises. He got to his feet and started heading for us. By now the larger group had mingled with the first, smaller group and they were all heading our way.
“Oh shit,” I said to no one in particular.
“Run!” shouted Miles.
I did not have to be asked twice, and decided it was a good idea to lead the retreat, with Miles not far behind.
We were soon leaving the infected behind, due to their body coordination not being as it should be.
Miles and I soon reached the green that bordered the main road. The infected were now out of sight as we reached our road about halfway down from the junction with the main road. We continued to jog the last hundred yards until we reached the end of our small close.
“Miles, we’d better protect our own homes,” I said. “Try to block up your windows and doors.”
“I’m going to start that straightaway – perhaps we’ll speak later.”
“Yes, see you later,” I replied.
I opened our front door just in time to see Maria letting Miles into their house across the road. We gave each other a slight wave, and then I went inside.
As I entered the living room, Mary and Josephine were sitting in the armchairs and John was in the kitchen, still checking out the MPA shotgun.
“Thank God you’re back! Where are Shirley and her two girls?” asked Mary.
I just stared at her and shook my head, not wanting to speak about what I had seen.
“They’re all dead – well, infected, which is nearly the same thing.”
“So, what happened, then?” Mary asked with her eyes wide open.
John came into the living room, and I told them what had happened, leaving out some of the gorier detail.
Once I had finished, I asked John how our MPA was doing.
“Just finished cleaning it, and I’ve put a small amount oil on the moving parts,” he replied.
At that moment, we heard a car coming into the close. It was having difficulty negotiating our small barricade, and we could see that it was Andy from next door in his MPV. It disappeared off to the right of our house, where all the parking spots were. I opened our front door, which he had to pass to reach his own house to the left of us.
“How are you, Andy?” I asked as he passed.
“Fucking awful – and what idiot decided to half-block the close off?”
“The idea is to block it off completely once all the residents have returned home. Then we can hopefully stop the infected from getting in.”
“Good – who are we waiting for?” he asked.
“The young couple at number 29 and … err, your son, Matthew,” I replied slightly nervously.
“That boy will be the death of me one day. He should be alright – the infected people are stupid, and I’ve just run two of them over,” Andy said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“OK, Andy, let us know when your son arrives. If number 29 has not arrived by then, I think we should block the close off anyway, before it gets dark. I’m going to move our Micra into the gap.”
“Will do,” he replied, disappearing through his front door.
I shut our front door and walked back into the living room.
“Is the news on yet?” I asked.
“No, it’s only seven-thirty,” Mary replied.
“OK. John, I think this would be a good time to look at the Ruger 10/22s,” I said.
“Well, it’s funny you should say that, as I have the tactical Ruger in the kitchen,” said John, smiling at me.
Mary closed the curtains and then started to peek through the gaps.
“I’ll keep watch,” she said.
Infected- The Beginning Page 5
