Infected- The Beginning

by Perry Stevenson

  “The shop doors are broken,” John observed.

  Turning into Violet Close, we had to avoid a number of parked and abandoned cars, but fortunately there were no bodies or infected about. John backed the truck up to Linda and Brian’s house and we finally came to a halt.

  “Phew, we’re here,” said John, letting out a breath.

  “Let’s just look around first before we get Linda and Brian to open the front door,” I said, grabbing the shotgun from the back seat. John picked up the Ruger at the same time. We checked the road, the park and the walkway that ran down the side of the school. Everything seemed to be clear of infected, and John went back to the truck to collect the other guns we had brought with us, while I knocked on Linda and Brian’s front door and waited for one of them to answer. Finally, I could hear something inside. Brian was removing furniture from the door, and eventually he opened it and appeared.

  “Hello, Brian – we made it,” I said.

  “Hi James, did you have any trouble?”

  Brian was a self-employed builder and decorator, and due to the nature of his work he was quiet fit and broadly built, albeit slightly below average height.

  “Not too much,” I replied.

  I gave him the gist of what we had encountered while we waited for John.

  “Hi Brian, we brought a couple of guns for you,” said John as we went into the house.

  “Hello Dad, brother,” said Linda. She was my elder daughter, just over five feet tall and of average build and quite fit – probably due to having four children to look after.

  “Are you ready to go?” I asked.

  “Just about,” Linda replied.

  “Hello, Grandad,” said Elizabeth, their eldest daughter at 16, slim and of slightly above average height. She had just taken her GCSE exams. I wonder how useful they will be now, I thought.

  “Any news of your boyfriend?” I asked.

  “No, nothing at all,” replied Elizabeth sadly.

  The next child to appear was Jack, their second-eldest at 13. He seemed to be taller every time I saw him – already above his mother’s height – of slim build and very fit due to his keen love of football.

  “Hi, Grandad,” he said.

  He was immediately echoed by Christine, the youngest daughter at four years of age. Christine was quite small for her age. I picked her up in my arms and gave her a kiss, putting her down as seven-year-old Barbara came up to me.

  Barbara was of average height and build for her age, but unfortunately had contracted meningitis when she was younger, which had left her completely deaf. With the aid of implants, she could now hear using an electronic attachment, but of course this required batteries to function.

  John and I showed Brian and Linda how to operate the firearms, Linda taking the Ruger tactical and Brian the over-and-under shotgun.

  It was amazing how much gear you had to take when you had children. It was decided that my two oldest grandchildren would come with John and me, while the youngest two stayed with their parents in their MPV. This would allow them to put the rear seats down, giving much more carrying space. John’s vehicle was completely empty in the back, giving enough space for their personal belongings and any supplies that we might acquire along the way.

  Linda acted as lookout as the rest of us loaded the vehicles. We were close to finishing when Linda shouted out, to no one in particular, “There are people coming across the park!”

  We all stopped in our tracks to look. There were about 20 of them, and now they were starting to head in our direction, thanks to Linda’s booming voice.

  “Get Barbara and Christine in the car,” Brian said.

  The two older children helped their younger siblings as Brian and John resumed their efforts to load the rest of the gear into the vehicles. I stood next to Linda as we watched the people getting ever closer. They were still over a hundred yards away when Linda started to take aim.

  “Linda, don’t shoot – they are too far away and you can’t see if they are infected or not,” I said, although the way they were moving suggested it was more likely they were.

  “We’re done – let’s go,” John shouted. That was a bad mistake, as the people walking towards us increased their pace to a jog.

  “Everybody in the cars, now!” I said.

  “Dad, can’t I shoot them?” asked Linda, sounding a bit disappointed.

  “Let’s get the children out of the way first, and then the supplies you need.”

  “OK, then,” said Linda, not sounding totally convinced.

  The people were now only 70 yards away, and approaching us rapidly.

  “Their eyes are red,” said Linda, whose eyesight was much better than mine.

  “Run!” I shouted.

  We both ran for our cars as Brian and John started the engines.

  “See you at the local shops!” Linda shouted as we closed the doors.

  Brian led the way as we sped out of Violet Close, then left and right into the small car park by the shops.

  “John, if you keep watch, I’ll help check the store out,” I said. “I don’t think we have long before the infected catch up to us.”

  John nodded in agreement.

  Brian was by my side as I got out of the truck, with Linda close behind.

  “Elizabeth, Jack, you can help too,” I said, probably sounding a bit desperate. “Brian, I’ll go first and you can back me up just in case there are infected in the store.”

  Linda acted as rearguard, with the teenagers between us. I climbed through the broken glass in the right-hand door and, turning to the others, I put a finger to my lips indicating for them to be quiet. Making an immediate right on entering, I found myself heading towards the chilled food area – of course, it was not so chilled any more, due to the power cut. The floor was littered with unwanted goods, and we moved slowly towards the end of the shop listening for any sound in the unusual silence, passing the magazine rack and then the fruit and veg section on our right. As we reached the end of the aisle, I put my hand up indicating to the others to stop, and slowly looking round the corner I could see the frozen food cabinets at the bottom of the store. There was still no sign of life. We continued forward, slowing down as I checked each of the intersecting aisles as we approached. The first I noticed contained cans of baked beans and other tinned food. Still there was no sign of life. The next aisle contained biscuits and at the end there was a stack of two-litre bottles of Coca-Cola. I progressed to the bottom aisle and was just about to look round the corner when a crunching sound broke the silence. God, it did make me jump, but it was only Linda treading on a packet of crisps. I quickly looked along the bottom aisle and fortunately all was clear. We walked slowly to the end with all the wines, beers and spirits, and looking to the right I could see the entrance and John’s truck parked outside.

  “OK, guys and girls, the store seems to be clear,” I said, heading for the entrance, passing the tobacco and cigarette counter on my right. “Grab yourselves a trolley each, and try not to be too long – I think we may have company shortly,” I continued, thinking about the infected we had seen in the park.

  Linda started to get her family organised as I climbed through the broken glass door and headed towards John, who was leaning against the side of his truck, gun in hand, making funny faces at my two granddaughters sitting in the back of the MPV.

  “Anything happening, John?” I asked.

  “No, nothing at all – in fact it is too quiet.”

  I started looking around. To the left of us was a three-storey block of flats, directly in front was The Gardeners pub, and to the left of that was the T-junction of Crocus Way leading into Pump Lane. On our left, a four-foot-high wall ran from the edge of the row of shops to the beginning of the front car park, giving us some protection from that direction.

  “John, I’ll just go and have a l
ook down the right side of these shops,” I said.

  I had just noticed the pharmacy at the end, which I thought could be useful if we needed any medical supplies. Looking in as I passed, nothing seemed to be disturbed; the doors were locked and all the windows were intact. Reaching the end of the shops, I looked round the corner and found what appeared to be an overflow car park for the shops, which still had a number of cars. There appeared to be access to the car park from the surrounding houses. Walking out into the middle of the access road to get a better look, I saw a large group of infected milling around on the left of the car park. The bad news was that they had also seen me, and about 30 of them started heading in my direction. I backed off to the front car park, turning towards John’s truck about 30 yards away. I was just about to shout a warning to John when I was interrupted by his voice.

  “Dad, there are about thirty infected coming down Crocus Way, from where Linda lives,” he called out.

  “There are about the same number coming from behind the shops,” I replied, starting to retreat to John’s side. That was when I noticed movement through the trees beyond where John was standing, at the junction of Crocus Way and Pump Lane.

  “John, behind you! There must be at least fifty of them!” I shouted.

  They were still 70–80 yards away when I reached the shop entrance.

  “We have company – we have got to go now!” I shouted to the rest of our group.

  Brian appeared at the door pushing a fully-loaded trolley.

  “Brian, quick – they’re everywhere,” I said, grabbing the bottom of the trolley and helping him lift it over the bottom of the door. When Brian noticed the infected, he stopped and shouted to Linda.

  “Linda, they’re everywhere, come on!”

  Brian pushed the trolley towards the truck, and John had already opened the back. I waited by the shop entrance for Linda and the two children to appear. The infected from the rear car park came into view, and were only 40 yards from us. Brian had started to load the supplies into the truck when John opened fire on this group of infected, the crack, crack, crack! of the Ruger echoing around the otherwise relatively silent car park. I saw two infected fall to the ground.

  “Dad, help us with these trolleys!” Linda called out from the shop entrance, where she and the two teenagers had arrived.

  I went there and got hold of the front of the nearest trolley. With the children helping, Linda and I got both trolleys onto the pavement.

  “Elizabeth, Jack, take a trolley each to your father and give him a hand to load them into the truck,” I said. “Linda, lock and load.”

  Linda tentatively pulled the bolt back on the Ruger, loading a bullet in the chamber. She pointed the rifle at the nearest infected and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

  “It doesn’t work,” she said, sounding irritated.

  “Take the safety catch off,” I said, adding “You must shoot them in the head”.

  “Oh, that’s not so easy,” Linda replied.

  Taking aim at the same infected as before, who was now 20 yards from us, she fired, hitting him in the lower jaw and causing him to stagger backwards. But he soon recovered and came at us with renewed effort. Crack, crack! as Linda fired another two shots, this time striking him in the left cheek and then between the eyes. The infected went down. Linda and I had now joined the others.

  “Carry on loading the truck,” said Brian as he turned his attention to the infected that were now fast approaching from Pump Lane.

  Linda steadied herself on the bonnet of the MPV while she took aim at the infected coming down Crocus Way and opened fire. John had started his second magazine as I opened fire on the remaining five infected from the rear car park, the closest being less than ten yards away. His face exploded as the nine SG .33 calibre balls struck. The second I hit in the centre of the chest from only five yards away, creating a six-inch diameter wound and knocking him backwards before he fell to the ground. The third was a teenage boy, and the shot removed the top of his head. Fortunately, I didn’t have too much time to think about what I was doing, as a young girl of nine or ten was next. The last was a woman in her early twenties wearing a dressing gown.

  Brian opened fire as the first of the infected came through the trees, reaching the start of the front car park.

  “I need some help here, like now!” he shouted.

  He was reloading the over-and-under shotgun as the infected were getting ever closer. Turning to look, I saw that a number of them were less than 20 yards away, and moving myself into position I took careful aim, hoping to get more than one infected from each of the last three shells in the magazine. I managed to hit four, and started to reload as Brian lined up on the nearest to him. While reloading, I noticed that John and Linda were holding their own. Elizabeth and Jack had finished loading the truck and had just closed up the back.

  “Elizabeth, Jack, get in the truck!” I shouted. “John, give Brian a hand.”

  Brian had taken his two shots and started to reload again. I was still trying to load the semi-auto shotgun when I felt someone tugging at my leg. I looked down as I was feeding the last shell into the shotgun magazine, to see seven-year-old Barbara.

  “Grandad, there are some more people there,” she said, pointing to the right of the shops which led to the rear car park. More infected were stumbling along the pavement in front of the shops, making their way behind us.

  “Quick, get back in the car!” I said, in total shock that she had even left the MPV.

  John had loaded his third magazine and opened fire on the infected from Pump Lane. Brian fired his two shots in the same direction.

  “Brian, get your car started!” shouted John.

  His brother-in-law didn’t need any further encouragement and headed for the MPV, collecting Barbara on the way.

  I fired at the infected in front of the shops, hitting the first in the side of the head, and taking out the shopfront’s plate-glass window. My second shot sent the next infected though the same window, bleeding from the neck and head. The third and fourth followed.

  “I’m out of bullets!” Linda exclaimed.

  “Dad, it’s time to go!” shouted John as the engine of the MPV burst into life.

  He emptied his magazine into the closest infected and jumped into the truck.

  I fired one more shot towards the shops at a middle-aged woman, spinning her round before she disappeared through the plate-glass window. As I headed for the truck I fired my last two rounds at the remaining infected approaching from Pump Lane, managing to drop three of them, which left five at the rear of the truck as I jumped into the front passenger seat and slammed the door. John put the truck into reverse and spun the wheel so we were pointing at the car park entrance, knocking two of the infected off their feet. As John tried to find first gear, the face of one of the infected appeared at my window, causing me to jump backwards as I looked into its bright red eyes, which knocked John’s arm and forced him to select the wrong gear. The engine stalled as he released the clutch.

  In the MPV Brian was desperately waving at us to go first, as the infected were now banging on the side of his vehicle. John started the engine again, this time selecting the correct gear, and we started to move forward just as the infected beside my door headbutted the window, causing it to crack. The truck jerked forward with tyres squealing, and looking behind us as we turned right towards Crocus Way I could see the MPV reversing rapidly, knocking one infected to the ground and side-swiping another, causing him to spin round. Another infected had appeared in the road between us and the MPV, and Brian accelerated forward, catapulting him into the air using the car’s sloping bonnet.

  We turned right, entering Crocus Way just as the infected came through the trees from the shopping car park trying to cut off our escape. We managed to slip past them before they could reach us, turning left into Pump Lane. Brian was not so lu
cky, however, as an infected tried to block his path. Brian tried to avoid him but without success, sending him spinning to the ground, but he had completely smashed the off-side headlight, leaving pieces dangling from the socket. John accelerated along Pump Lane heading towards the B&Q store. I turned my head to see that Brian was behind us.

  “John, go back the way we came. We don’t want to run into that load of infected we saw by the B&Q roundabout,” I said.

  “Wasn’t going to do anything else, Dad,” replied John.

  We had now picked up speed, and soon approached the Sainsbury’s roundabout with Brian in hot pursuit. John and Brian managed to avoid the dead bodies and cars scattered along the roads. So much for the 30 mph speed limit, I thought. We passed the Sainsbury’s entrance and took the second exit onto the old A12, heading for the roundabout at the BP garage.

  Elizabeth and Jack started to talk again, commenting on the gruesome scenes we had passed. We cleared the last roundabout before Boreham within minutes. Finally arriving back at our barricade, which Mary had blocked behind us, John sounded his horn, which I didn’t think was a good idea. Mary soon appeared and moved the Micra. John drove through the gap and parked the truck in our car port, and Brian pulled up behind us.

  Mary reversed the Micra back into the barricade as we got out of the vehicles. We all congregated at the side of the MPV as Mary joined us.

  “I see you’ve had a few accidents,” said Mary, noticing the MPV’s broken headlight and the truck’s cracked side window.

  “Mary, that was one experience I could have done without,” said Brian.

  “Hello, Mum,” said Linda. “That was really exciting stuff – I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  “OK, let’s get the vehicles unloaded, then. Brian, you might want to move the MPV to number forty-three, where you’ll be staying. I think this is the front door key,” said John, producing a set of keys from his pocket which also included the key to Alf’s van. Brian took the keys and walked across to Alf’s house. Miles and Mat joined us.