“If James and I keep guard, the rest of you can grab whatever you think we need,” said Miles.
“Something we can cook on would be good,” I said, as John, Jeffrey, Mat, Steve and Sara disappeared into the store.
Miles and I moved to a position from where we could see around the store and across the car park at the same time.
“In all this mess, I’ve completely forgotten to get some tobacco and cigarettes for the wife,” I said.
“You’re not the only one,” Miles added.
After nearly an hour, the members of our convoy arrived back at the entrance – amazingly, all together – loaded with goods.
“We are still short of two camping stoves,” said John.
“OK, we can try Millets in High Chelmer,” I said.
High Chelmer was the shopping centre in the middle of Chelmsford. We loaded all our booty into the vehicles and were soon on our way, and going back to the last set of traffic lights we turned left towards the police station. There we turned left again, passing the courts on our left, and crossing the top of High Street we were soon parking on the pavement in front of one of the three entrances to the shopping centre.
After surveying the area, we exited the vehicles and moved to the glass-fronted entrance. Fortunately, the doors were open, and nothing appeared to be moving as far as Costa Coffee 100 yards away, where tables and chairs were scattered over the floor. We moved forward slowly, looking in each shop as we passed. Eventually we reached the centre of the shopping arcade, looking left towards the town centre and then right towards the market and multi-storey car park above. There were a few bodies lying on the ground, but because the arcade was protected by the glass-fronted doors at the three entrances there were no vermin feeding on them. We turned right and could see the Millets shop about 50 yards away. It was quite small compared to Blacks, and the glass front window and doors seem to be intact, although other shopfronts were badly damaged. John moved to the door and gave it a push; it opened easily. Miles and I went inside, cautiously checking down each aisle. Nothing moved, so we signalled to the others to come in, while John stayed outside keeping guard.
“Take only what you need – there must be other people that need some of this gear,” said Miles.
I started to browse around too, just in case John and I had forgotten something that could be of use.
“I can only find one camping stove. Lots of gas cylinders, though,” said Sara.
I had reached the outdoor clothing section and decided to help myself to a waterproof jacket with lots of pockets. Then I noticed a solid door, probably the storeroom.
“I’ll just check this out – there may be a camping stove inside,” I said to Sara, giving her my newly acquired jacket.
I began to feel uneasy as I pushed the door open with the shotgun barrel. It was pitch black inside.
“Sara, do you have a torch?” I asked.
“Yes – just picked this one up, it works fine,” she replied.
I held the storeroom door fully open to let in as much light as possible, holding the torch in my left hand and, with the shotgun lying across the same arm, I slowly entered the storeroom. I saw a stack of five camping stoves in the far corner on the right. As I moved the torch to the left corner, something began to move – a man in a Millets uniform top slowly stood up. He must have been hiding from the chaos which had been going on outside. He started to turn, and as he did so I noticed a bite mark on his bare arm. Just in time, his bright red eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight as he came at me. I had already lowered the gun thinking he had just been hiding, but I fired a quick shot that hit him in the shoulder. He staggered backwards with his arm hanging loosely at his side, only just attached to the rest of his body. My second shot hit him between the eyes, causing the top of his head to explode and decorating the waterproof trousers and white t-shirts behind him in red dots as he toppled back against the shelving and slowly slid to the floor.
It took me a few seconds to regain my composure, but I called to Sara, “OK, Sara, there are camping stoves in here – get some of the others as there may be other things we need, too.”
I headed back through the storeroom, handing the torch to Sara as I came out into the main store.
“What happened, James?” asked Mat.
“An infected staff member had managed to hide in the store room.”
“You OK, James?” asked Miles.
“Yeah, just. You and Mat may want to look around. There is a bit of gear.”
Mat followed his wife into the storeroom, with Miles close behind. Jeffrey and Steve arrived.
“Steve, you might want to have a look too,” I said. “Jeffrey, you’d better stay out here as there isn’t a lot of room in there.”
We heard the crack, crack, crack! of the Ruger coming from outside the store, then the sound of breaking glass. Jeffrey and I looked at each other and headed for the front of the shop, and were going through the outer door into the walkway as John opened fire again. We both looked in the direction of his aim, towards the market, to see two of the glass panels broken and infected pouring in.
“There must be at least fifty of them!” I said.
I don’t know why, but I looked behind us just in time to see one of the glass panels give way at the town centre end of the arcade. Another 50 or more infected were starting to enter the building.
“Jeffrey, go get the others – we have to leave!” I said.
John continued firing, with a degree of success, as three more infected fell to the floor. With my shotgun magazine now fully loaded, I heard Jeffrey shouting, “We have to leave – now!”
I opened fire on the nearest infected 20 yards away, and he fell to the ground instantly. I continued to fire the next seven shots, taking careful aim with each, and in some cases more than one fell to the shot, creating complete carnage amongst the infected. The bad news was that I had also shot out the remaining two glass windows at the entrance as well, and the magazine was now empty. John had loaded another magazine into his rifle, and I started to reload the shotgun as he opened fire. The infected coming from the town centre end were now halfway between the entrance and the centre of the arcade, and if we did not move soon we were going to be cut off from our escape route.
“John, shoot the infected behind us!” I shouted as I finished loading the magazine.
They were still 100 yards away, and at that range trying to hit them in the head with a shotgun would be nigh-on impossible. John had a much better chance with the Ruger, being a lot more directional. There were only ten of the infected from the market entrance left as I opened fire again, dropping five of them. Miles appeared at my side, and we finished the last few off together.
The walkway was like a scene from a horror movie, with bodies lying on the floor, some on top of each other. The bare parts of the floor were mainly covered in blood spatter, with the occasional piece of flesh and bone fragment. John had emptied his magazine and was loading another as Miles and I turned to face the town centre entrance. The first of the infected were about to reach the centre of the arcade, which would cut off our escape route.
“Miles, we have got to get closer. Top up your magazine as we move forward,” I said.
We advanced together as the infected reached the centre of the arcade only 40 yards away. Millets was now 25 yards behind us.
“The others are coming!” John shouted.
I turned to see Sara and Steve coming towards us, pushing a newly acquired trolley, with Jeffrey bringing up the rear. Behind them were another 15 infected, entering the arcade from the market end.
“Come on – behind you!” I called.
Jeffrey looked behind and shouted to the others, “Run!”
Miles and I opened fire on the infected that had entered the arcade from the town centre end, with John picking off the wounded. As Miles and I started to reloa
d, the others joined us. We had reached the centre of the arcade and could see our vehicles 150 yards away, but the problem was that there were 30 or so infected between them and us.
“Jeffrey, Mat – take the last few in front of us,” I said. “We will try to eliminate the infected blocking our escape.”
Once my shotgun was loaded, I realised I was running out of shells and told Miles.
“I’ve still got a few – take these,” he replied, giving me another five cartridges.
“You’re not the only one – I’m about to start my last magazine,” said John.
We had all now entered the walkway, heading towards our vehicles with the infected approaching us fast.
Miles, John and I were at the front, with Mat and Jeffrey at the rear and Steve and Sara pushing their fully laden trolley in the middle.
Mat and Jeffrey started to fire on the last of the infected from the town centre, which were now behind us. This was the first time they had fired in anger, so to speak, and frankly they would have had trouble hitting a barn even if they were in it. Mat did manage to drop one infected by hitting him in the kneecap, and Jeffrey removed an ear and managed to shoot another in the foot.
“Slow down and take your time,” Miles shouted to his son.
Jeffrey had already emptied his ten-round magazine and was in the process of loading the 25-rounder into the Ruger. Mat had finally managed to reload the over-and-under shotgun and snap it shut. John noticed that they were having problems, so he fired his last few shots in the direction of the town centre, dropping three of closest infected. Miles and I started to take aim at the incoming infected.
“Try not to shoot our vehicles, Miles!” I shouted.
Too late! Miles fired, dropping two of the infected with one shot, but we also saw the side window of his taxi shatter into a thousand pieces.
“Oops,” Miles commented.
Miles and I started to empty the shotguns into the oncoming infected, and with John’s help we soon thinned them out. Jeffrey and Mat had finally managed to eliminate the last remaining infected from the town centre end, when the 15 or so we had seen entering from the market end appeared in the centre of the arcade behind us.
“Oh no!” shouted Miles.
“God, no, not this,” I said in a low voice.
We had noticed that the last seven of them were children, aged about eight to ten, and included two girls. They had been masked by the adults.
Miles and I started to reload our magazines, while John finished off the last of the adults with the Ruger.
“I’m out of ammo,” John declared.
“I’ve only got eight shells left,” I said.
“I’m OK for the moment,” announced Miles.
The children were only 20 yards away when we opened fire. If it were not for the bright red eyes and blood-stained teeth, there was no doubt that Miles and I could not have squeezed the trigger. The first to go was the closest boy. Miles and I fired together at the same target. The outcome was devastating as the SG shot struck the boy in the head and throat, sending pieces of flesh and bone into the air as his head dropped to one side, obviously with a broken neck, as he fell to the ground.
“James, you take the left side, I’ll take the right,” shouted Miles.
“OK,” I said rather croakily, still recovering from the previous scene.
I noticed Miles had tears in his eyes, and I was soon to follow suit as I fired at one of the young girls, removing the top of her skull. Eventually we finished our grisly task, leaving Miles and me visibly shaken.
“You OK, Dad?” asked John.
“No, but let’s get to our vehicles.”
Looking round, I noticed Mat and Jeffrey were not having much success with the infected coming from behind us. There were still at least ten of them, now getting a bit too close for comfort.
“Jeffrey, how much ammo have got left?” asked Miles.
As Jeffrey fired another round at the infected behind us, he instantly dropped to the ground.
“Shot!” I called.
“I was aiming at the man with the red tie,” said Jeffrey.
The infected he had actually shot was behind that one and to his left. There was a click as Jeffrey tried to fire again.
“None!” he said, in response to his father’s question.
Mat had just reloaded the shotgun and was starting to take aim.
“Stop! How much ammo have you got, Mat?” I asked.
“Ten or twelve.”
“Let me have five, then help your wife and Steve with the goods. Miles and I will hold off the infected.”
He didn’t take too much persuading as he nodded and handed me five cartridges, which I promptly fed into the shotgun’s magazine. Miles had already topped up his shotgun with cartridges.
Miles handed his keys to Jeffrey saying, “Get the taxi open”.
John had already reached his truck and started to rummage around in the back seat. Sara, now with Mat’s help, was loading up their car, while Steve had opened the tailgate of his MPV and started to load the gas bottles and stoves. Miles and I were standing at the entrance to the shopping centre and turned our attention to the oncoming infected. The remaining nine didn’t stand a chance against the semi-auto shotguns, and we opened fire, sending blood and pieces of flesh and bone into the air.
“We’ve got the lot,” Miles stated.
I nodded in agreement as we surveyed the carnage we had created. There were at least 100 bodies lying on the floor between us and the centre of the arcade, creating the most gruesome sight. It was heart-rending to see the young children lying amongst them, for they would never have a chance to live their lives.
Miles and I turned away from distressing scene and headed back towards our vehicles.
A young girl wearing a frilly pink party dress now appeared from behind the large oak tree that was growing in the centre of the walkway. She only looked five or six years of age, and started to approach Steve, who had finally loaded the goods into his MPV. He started to shut the tailgate.
“Watch out, Steve!” Miles cried out as the girl reached him.
She appeared to hold his hand and, looking down at the ground, Steve turned around as she touched him.
“Hello, little girl – what’s your name?” Steve asked in a higher pitch than usual.
The young girl slowly lifted her head and looked at Steve, who seemed to freeze. In that second, she sank her teeth into his hand. Steve cried out and at the same time pulled his hand away and staggered backwards.
“Mat, shoot her!” shouted Miles.
Mat had left the over-and-under shotgun on the back seat of his vehicle while he helped Sara with the supplies. Before he reached it, there was the crack, crack! of a Ruger, and the little girl fell to the ground.
John had reloaded one of the ten-shot magazines, using the ammo we had commandeered from the gun shop earlier. John grabbed something from the back of his truck and ran over to Steve, and as Miles and I approached we could see he was holding a couple of cable ties.
“Steve, this is going to hurt,” said John as he slipped a tie over Steve’s injured hand and up to his wrist.
He pulled Steve down to the ground so he could put both feet on his arm and then, using all his strength, gave the cable tie a serious yank. Steve groaned a little, but by now he was in shock. Had he begun to realise the implications of the bite?
“Let’s get home, guys, so Steve can at least see his family,” I said.
“Can you drive, Steve?” asked Miles.
“Yes, I think so,” replied Steve, starting to recover his composure.
John shut Steve’s tailgate for him and we all headed for our own vehicles. John led off, as before going to the right, the wrong way down a one-way street, which was the shortest way home – of course there was no other traffic. We pas
sed the police station and then turned right passing the Riverside Centre, also on our right, and were soon approaching the next set of traffic lights, where we turned left into Springfield Road. I kept looking behind us as our convoy progressed, making sure Steve was still with us, but this did stop me from noticing some of the more gruesome scenes along the way.
We had to drive on the wrong side of the road as we approached the prison due to the number of abandoned cars, Jeffrey’s being one of them. John managed to miss most of the bodies lying in the road and there was only the occasional bump, bump as we progressed along Springfield Road, scattering crows and other vermin as we continued on our way home. We eventually joined the old A12 and were passing over the current one when I saw a more chilling sight than had occurred before.
As we entered the last roundabout before our destination, there were a number of corpses lying on the centre island with seven dogs feeding on them, then as we passed Boreham House two foxes were ripping pieces of flesh from a woman’s body by the gates. Turning to John, I said, “You know, we could have a big problem with dogs, as they will revert back to their basic instincts”.
“Yes, I noticed that too. In fact, if they get used to eating human flesh, we could become the hunted rather than being the hunters.”
John had just turned into our road and the crows seemed to have thinned out a bit, but there were more rats now. The word must have been out that there was a free meal in Connor Way. We noticed Mary and Josephine waiting at the door as John pulled in to our driveway and the rest of the convoy dispersed to their usual parking places. John and I climbed out of the truck as Miles’s front door opened and Maria appeared with Matthew standing behind her.
Mary and Josephine came around the front of the house so they could see the truck.
“Where have you been? It’s nearly half past two,” asked Mary in a demanding tone.
“We’ve had a few problems,” I replied. “Steve has been bitten. John, bring the Ruger, just in case.”
“Mum, Josephine, you’d better get inside just in case we have a problem,” added John.
Infected- The Beginning Page 12
