Infected- The Beginning

by Perry Stevenson

  John led, with Mat and his wife behind, then Steve, with Miles and Jeffrey in the rear.

  There were still a number of bodies lying in the front gardens opposite our close and also in the road. We had by now started to get accustomed to this, but we were not prepared for the sight of magpies and crows picking at the open wounds of the bodies, or the rook and jackdaw fighting over an eyeball directly in front of us. As we moved further along our road we noticed other bodies lying in the middle of the green as we passed, and as the road turned left towards the main road there were more bodies on the pavement. We also had to avoid a few bodies lying in the road; again, magpies and crows were feeding off the corpses, and then I noticed a few rats running from the corpses as we approached, one popping his blood-covered head out of the stomach of a body. It occurred to me that it wasn’t us that had killed these infected.

  We reached the top of our road and turned right towards Chelmsford. There were only a few corpses on the main road. As we passed the small postbox on our left, there was no sign of Shirley and her two daughters. We turned left into Church Road, and from there it was only 100 yards to the gun shop. John pulled onto the pavement as before, the rest of our convoy lining up behind. John and I approached the door; this time it was not only unlocked, but slightly ajar. John put his hand up, indicating to the others to stop. I cocked the shotgun, loading a shell into the chamber, and John did likewise with the Ruger. I slowly pulled the door open, poking the barrel of the shotgun through the doorway as I started to enter, and went inside as quietly as possible with John close behind. We moved silently through the small storeroom, and as we approached the second doorway, which led to where all the guns were displayed, I could hear a rustling coming from in front of us. The only other sound was my heart, beating very fast.

  The shop owner suddenly stood up from behind the small counter on the right of the room, with his back to me.

  “God, you scared the life out of me,” I said. “Told you we would be back.”

  Suddenly there was a movement of boxes on my left.

  “Watch out, Dad!” John shouted.

  A man appeared from the badly lit far end of the storeroom. I could not distinguish his facial features, only the bright red eyes as he rapidly approached us. John lifted the Ruger to his shoulder, and I also turned towards him, lifting the shotgun ready to shoot. That was nearly a fatal mistake as the owner turned, showing the same red eyes, and came at me climbing over the counter. John fired two shots. I was trying to turn back towards the owner to get the shotgun lined up, but it was too late – he had reached me. I managed to strike the owner on the nose with the butt of the gun, but with little effect. I started to topple backwards as he grabbed the gun. I landed on my back with him on top of me, separated only by the shotgun that I was holding out at arm’s length. My arms were getting weaker by the second as the infected shop owner’s full weight came to bear. This is it, I thought. The man was getting ever closer as my arms started to give way. I was transfixed as I stared into those bright red eyes and black, lifeless pupils. Then I heard a crack! and his left eye disappeared as various body parts and fluids splashed over my face and jacket; then another crack! and a red spot appeared in the middle of his forehead, as his body went limp. With the help of the shotgun I managed to push him off to my left. Staggering to my feet, I looked at John.

  “That was a close-run thing,” I said.

  “It was closer than you think, Dad. I only missed by about an inch,” replied John.

  “What?” I exclaimed, looking at him open-mouthed.

  “Sorry I was a bit slow, but I had to get the other one first.”

  Looking behind me, I saw our first attacker lying on the floor, face up with two red dots in his forehead.

  “OK, let’s have a look round the shop and see if there is anything useful,” I said.

  “I’ll call the others in,” said John.

  John went back outside, jamming a box of cartridges in the doorway so it would not close.

  Walking back into the gun display area, I started to have a look around. It appeared we had a choice. There were a number of rifles, from the .22LR, which we had, up to the .308, and shotguns from .410 to a 12-bore, pump-action, semi-auto, over-and-under, as well as a few side-by-sides.

  Miles, Mat and Steve entered the shop with John bringing up the rear, while Jeffrey and Sara remained in their vehicles acting as lookouts.

  Miles picked up a bolt-action .308, a Winchester model 70.

  “This looks like it could take down the infected.” he said.

  “Yes, it would, over a thousand yards away,” I replied. “Problem is, you couldn’t carry much ammo, as it only has a five-round magazine, and because it is a bolt-action you would also have to work the bolt each time you fired.”

  “So, what do you think we need, then?” asked Miles.

  “We have a problem,” I said. “You see, in this country all semi-automatic rifles other than the .22LR are illegal, so I would suggest a Ruger 10/22, which should be good for a hundred yards, and a semi-auto or pump-action twelve-bore shotgun, but be careful what you choose as most will only be capable of holding three shots. Our laws again. But if we have a look round you may find some with a five- or eight-shot capacity, which are not illegal but require a firearms licence.”

  In the end, we managed to find three Ruger 10/22s, albeit one of their standard models, two eight-shot semi-autos and one pump-action shotgun. John managed to find a Ruger 10/22 in an ATI-type stock, which he commandeered. 22LR ammo was in abundance and we must have ended up with at least 3,000 rounds apiece, whether solids or hollow-points. John found the remaining 100 cartridges loaded with SG shot, and our neighbours ended up with about 300 shells of various brands loaded with either BB or one-shots. We also found 25-shot magazines of different brands for the Rugers.

  We collected our booty and headed back to the vehicles. Our lookouts had nothing to report. Turning the vehicles round, we headed towards Sainsbury’s and in less than five minutes we were driving into the car park there. The bodies of the infected were still lying on the ground where we had left them the day before, but again they were being eaten by magpies, rooks and jackdaws, and we spotted a few carrion crows too. There were also a number of rats running from body to body trying to get their fill. Parking as close to the store entrance as possible, we looked round the car park; nothing appeared to be moving – nothing remotely human, anyway.

  We all headed for the store entrance, and as we passed the trolley park on our right took one each. Again we went through the sliding door with its glass shattered, lifting the trolleys over the bottom edge of the door. Miles and I went first, with shotguns at the ready. Other people had obviously been here before us – the store was in a complete mess. In front of us, magazines were scattered over the floor, and to our right various articles of clothing too. We turned left towards the food sections, first the fruit and veg, quite a proportion of which was on the floor. John, Jeffrey and Steve were following close behind, with Mat and Sara bringing up the rear. Mat was acting as rearguard with the over-and-under shotgun. Miles and I managed to check the first four lanes that ran down to the back of the store.

  “Listen,” said Miles, putting his arm in the air to stop the others. We all froze, and then we could hear male voices coming from the far end of the store.

  “It’s OK, they’re human,” I said.

  “At least there are no infected in that part of the store,” said John.

  “OK, if you start collecting the supplies we need, Miles and I will check out the storeroom at the bottom,” I said.

  Miles and I walked down to far end of the store, cautiously checking the centre lane as we passed and then the bottom lane before finally arriving at the frosted plastic doors that led to the storeroom. Miles and I looked at each other, as if to say “who’s going to go first?”. I seemed to be selected and, slowly pushing th
e doors open with the barrel of the shotgun, I walked silently inside looking from side to side. Miles followed me in. It was full of pallets stacked halfway to the rafters, apparently untouched. We found the centre lane, which appeared to be clear, and walked slowly along, Miles checking to the left and me to the right. We finally reached the end, both of us letting out a breath, realising it was a good idea to breathe every now and again.

  Miles finally broke the silence.

  “This lot should keep us going for a while.”

  “Let’s go back and tell the others,” I replied.

  “We had better check the bottom lane first,” said Miles.

  We walked down to the bottom of the storeroom and along the aisle, turning right at the end, which took us back to the plastic doors.

  “James, we had better check around the clothing section before we find the others,” said Miles.

  “OK, I’ll go with that,” I replied.

  Turning left as we went through the plastic doors, and checking each aisle as we passed the clothing section, we arrived at the front of the store again. We headed towards the food section, walking between the checkouts on our left and the food aisles to the right, checking each aisle as we headed to the far end. First, we came across John and Jeffrey trying to decide what cereal to collect, then Mat and Sara by the tea and coffee. Further down, we could hear raised voices. Approaching the source, we could hear Steve’s voice.

  “There is enough here for everyone,” Steve was saying. “Surely you don’t think you can take it all for yourselves.”

  “Mate, there are four of us and one of you, so piss off. This is our store,” the man said.

  I put my hand up to stop Miles just before we reached the aisle they were in, which was stacked with wine, spirits and beer. I moved forward so they could only see my left side, holding the shotgun in my right hand so it was out of sight. There were four men in their early twenties. The one doing all the talking was over six feet tall and looked fit and muscular, while two others were a little shorter and quite broadly built, even a little overweight, and the last one was slightly shorter and of slim build but still appeared quite fit. The main problem was that each was carrying a samurai-style sword.

  “OK, guys, just think about what you’re doing,” I said. “Probably ninety percent of the population is either infected or dead, and there aren’t too many people left who appear to be human, so it would be a good idea for all of us to stick together and share what we find,” I continued, waiting for a reaction.

  Miles had now moved partially into their view, and being well over six feet tall and broadly built probably made them a little less sure of themselves. The big chap lifted his sword threateningly.

  “Do you want to argue with this, mate?”

  His colleagues lifted their swords in unison, following their leader. I was getting angry now.

  “I tell you what – why don’t you guys leave the store and come back later when we’ve gone?” I said.

  The big guy started to walk towards me, lifting his sword a little higher.

  “Why don’t you try and make us?” he said, getting ever closer.

  “OK, I will – you’d better say your goodbyes first,” I said, bringing the shotgun into view and aiming at the big guy’s head.

  Miles did the same. It had the desired effect, and the young man stopped in his tracks.

  “That isn’t a real gun,” the smallest youth said.

  “Did you see the infected lying by the front entrance with the top of his head missing?”

  “Yeah,” the smaller of the men replied.

  “That was done with this.”

  They still didn’t look completely convinced, so I pointed the shotgun at the wine bottles on the top shelf, opposite to where Miles and I were standing, just over six feet from the ground, and fired. There was an almighty boom! as the shotgun went off in that enclosed space, and three wine bottles seemed to explode into a thousand pieces, putting a fine spray of wine into the air. A number of other bottles were broken and fell off the shelf, spilling wine over the floor. Steve looked as if he was about to have a heart attack, and my ears were still ringing as the four men ran down the centre aisle and out though the front door without saying a word.

  “Thank God for that – I didn’t really want to shoot a healthy person,” I said to Miles.

  “You know the old saying, ‘live by the sword, die by the sword’!” said Miles.

  “My God, James, you scared the life out of me. I never realised how loud and devastating a shotgun was,” said Steve.

  John and Jeffrey appeared.

  “What happened? Who got shot?” asked Jeffrey.

  “The four blokes needed to be put in their place – perhaps next time they’ll think twice before threatening other people,” replied Miles.

  “Anyway, how are we doing with the shopping, guys?” I said.

  “We still have a bit more to do,” replied Jeffrey.

  “I’m about two-thirds of the way through my list,” said Steve.

  “Let’s find Mat and Sara – hopefully they’re nearly finished. All that noise may attract some unwanted guests,” Miles observed.

  Miles and I went down to the centre aisle, and as we were walking back to towards the entrance we came across Mat and Sara.

  “That was a bang – do we have a problem?” Mat enquired.

  “Not any more,” Miles commented. “How’s the shopping going?”

  “Nearly done,” Sara replied.

  “James and I will be at the entrance, keeping a lookout,” said Miles.

  He and I made our way to the front entrance and looked out across the car parks for signs of movement. Apart from the family of crows and the occasional rat moving between corpses trying to find a better meal, all was quiet.

  Half an hour later, John and Jeffrey appeared with trolleys filled to overflowing. Miles gave Jeffrey his keys and both went to their respective vehicles to load the supplies, while Miles and I stayed at the shop entrance waiting for the others. John had just joined us when Steve appeared, and we gave him a helping hand to get his trolley over the bottom of the door. God, it was heavy! Steve went to his own vehicle and started to load his supplies, as Jeffrey joined us at the shop entrance. Finally Mat and Sara arrived and we all walked back to our own vehicles.

  After Mat and Sara had finished loading up their free shopping, we all moved off in convoy as before. I think we all felt a sense of relief to leave the car park, which was a gruesome sight with the birds and rats eating the corpses, and there were now bits of flesh and picked bones spread over the tarmac. Passing the TA training centre along what used to be the A12, we turned right at the main roundabout, driving under the bridge into Springfield Road, which led to Chelmsford town centre.

  Apart from a few corpses lying at the edge, the road was clear until we reached the first set of traffic lights, which, not surprisingly, were not working. The opposite side of the road was now completely blocked, due to an accident at the traffic lights. There were a number of cars with their doors open, some with a person hanging out of the driver’s side, and other bodies lying on the pavement and in the middle of the road. We eventually reached the traffic lights at Chelmsford prison, near where Jeffrey had had to abandon his car. We continued and reached the final set of lights; we were now less than half a mile from our destination.

  A scene of complete carnage greeted us – several cars were buried in shopfronts, some with bodies still inside, and twice as many corpses as earlier were lying in the road and on the pavements. The entire population of crows appeared to have descended on the scene, together with an unusually large number of rats.

  We managed to navigate around the cars and most of the bodies, and I did notice that a number of corpses appeared to have been shot, I supposed by the police – although none of these corpses were in uniform. Once p
ast the traffic lights, the road started to clear to a degree, and we soon passed Tesco on our right and pulled into the parking area for Maplin, driving through which we could see Blacks camping store in front of us. Our convoy came to halt, and we saw that the glass in the double doors had been completely smashed. John and I scanned the car park for any movement and, not noticing any, we climbed down from the truck with our weapons in hand. The other members of our convoy followed suit. John and I cautiously approached the broken glass doors, with Miles and Jeffrey now close behind.

  “Same as before, James?” asked Miles.

  “No, it might be better if you and Jeffrey go down the right and John and I take the left – just be careful where you’re shooting,” I said.

  Mat, Steve and Sara joined us.

  “Mat, you stand guard with Steve and Sara, while we check out the store for infected,” I continued.

  They all seemed to agree.

  I led off, going to my left, with John close behind.

  Turning to Miles, I said, “Meet you along the bottom of the store.”

  “See you there, hopefully,” he replied.

  Moving very quietly and slowly, John and I progressed to the bottom of the store looking down each aisle as we passed. To say I was a little tense would have been a bit of an understatement. We finally reached the bottom and turned to our right. Again we checked each aisle as we passed. John and I had only covered ten yards when Miles appeared in front of us, and we met roughly in the middle.

  “That was quite uneventful,” said Miles.

  “Wonder where they’ve all gone,” I said as we started to walk up the centre aisle towards the entrance, still checking the intersecting aisles as we went.

  Soon we were back at the main entrance to find Mat, Sara and Steve waiting.

  “Have you seen anybody moving about?” Miles asked.

  “Nothing,” Mat reported.

  “The store seems to be unusually clear of infected, so let’s get what we need and go,” I said.