“How did you get on, James? Had a few problems, I see,” said Miles, grinning as he looked at the damaged vehicles.
“Let’s just say we had a few technical hitches,” I replied.
“Oh, Mat and I managed to remove the bodies from number twenty-nine’s garage to the green,” Miles confirmed.
“Well done. How is our pile of bodies up there?” I asked.
“Apart from being slowly torn to pieces by vermin, they are also starting to smell,” Miles replied.
Josephine had just joined the group.
“Does anybody want a tea, coffee or any other drink?” she asked.
We all gave our orders.
“OK, follow me,” said Josephine as she headed back to the house.
“Let me help,” said Linda. Mary and Linda followed Josephine, led by the children.
“You men can unload the cars,” said Mary as she disappeared through the front door.
“OK, I’ve got the door open,” called Brian from the other house.
John and I helped him unload the vehicle into his new-found accommodation with the aid of Mat and Miles, leaving him with a pile of supplies in the middle of the living-room floor.
“James, I think it’s about time we started to burn the bodies before things get too bad,” said Miles as we went back into the street.
“Do we have any petrol to set them alight?” asked John.
“Alf did have a petrol lawnmower,” replied Mat.
“Brian and I will see if we can find some,” said John, going back though the front door of number 43.
“John, I’m going to see if our tea’s ready and tell the ladies we have finished,” I said. “I dare say Linda will want to have some say in organising her new accommodation.”
I told Miles and Mat I would see them in 15 minutes, and headed for our front door, really looking forward to a cup of tea. As I entered the living room Mary was on the telephone to our other daughter, Ruth, with Linda trying to hear what she was saying. Linda’s two eldest children were sitting on the sofa but the younger ones were nowhere to be seen. Josephine then appeared with two cups in her hands and gave them to Linda and Mary. Josephine must have read my thoughts.
“The other two are in the garden playing, and your tea’s ready,” she said.
“I’m not surprised – they must be glad of a bit of freedom,” I replied.
I started to enter the kitchen but Mary, phone still in hand, stopped me.
“James, wait,” she said. “Ruth and Tom are getting desperate for food. They say it’s too dangerous to even leave the house because the infected are everywhere.”
“Can they hold on until tomorrow?” I asked, starting to feel really tired.
Mary repeated my words to Ruth.
“Yes, they can, but can you come and collect them before midday,” Mary relayed after a short delay.
“OK, at least that will give us time to organise ourselves,” I said.
Linda took the phone and started to exchange experiences with Ruth. I went into the kitchen and got my hands on my tea before I could be stopped again. Walking back into the living room, I noticed Elizabeth was looking really depressed.
“Are you alright, Elizabeth?” I asked. Before the girl could answer, Linda interrupted.
“She hasn’t heard from her boyfriend in four days.”
“Oh, where does he live?” I asked.
“Near Moulsham Street,” replied Elizabeth. This was just south of Chelmsford city centre.
John and Brian had now walked into the room.
“Did you find any petrol?” I asked.
“Yes, about half a gallon,” replied John.
“John, Brian, your teas are in the kitchen,” said Josephine.
“Oh, Linda you’d better check on our new house – you will have to put our supplies away, as they’re in the middle of the floor at the moment,” said Brian with a big grin.
“OK, then. Mum, are you coming to see our new house?” asked Linda, starting to show some enthusiasm.
“I’ll help,” offered Josephine.
“I’m coming too,” said Elizabeth.
“And me,” added Jack.
“OK, OK! I’ll get the young ones as well,” said Linda as she headed for the garden. John and Brian disappeared into the kitchen to have their drinks.
“Mary, you’d better take this, just in case,” I said, handing her the Ruger and a couple of magazines.
“Brian, are you going to help Linda?” I asked.
“Yes, I’d better, even if it’s only to lift the heavy stuff.”
Linda called to the children in the garden to come in, informing them they were going to their new house, and they were quite enthusiastic.
“Brian, take the over-and-under shotgun with you,” I suggested.
After rummaging around behind the sofa, I managed to find a box of 12-bore SG cartridges.
“Take half of these,” I said, giving Brian twelve of the cartridges. I divided the rest, loading some into the semi-auto shotgun and putting the remainder into my pocket. John and Brian had finished their drinks and returned to the living room. Linda had also arrived with her two young children.
“Linda, you’d better take this, as you’re a much better shot than me,” said Mary, handing the rifle to her daughter.
“OK, let’s go, then,” said Linda.
She, Brian and the four children went out, with Mary and Josephine close behind. John and I were left looking at each other.
“Let’s get Miles and Mat, Dad, now I’ve got the petrol,” said John.
Meeting Miles and Mat outside, we squeezed through the barricade and made our way to the green, where we were greeted by a pile of decaying bodies, most being eaten by the abundant crows and rats that covered them. As we approached, there was the sound of growling dogs, and a mid-sized dog appeared from the pile of corpses with a hand in its mouth. Then an Alsatian appeared, its teeth gripping some intestines, which trailed behind him as he walked towards us. The next dog was a very large mongrel, its head covered in dried blood. Three more dogs, which had been hidden behind the heap, then showed themselves, followed by two large Dobermanns. We were all starting to feel a little uneasy as these slowly approached us, heads down and emitting low growling sounds and baring very impressive sets of teeth.
“Mat, it might be a good idea to get your shotgun, but back off very slowly while we hold our ground,” I said in a low, quiet voice.
“We could back off as well, don’t you think?” commented Miles out of the corner of his mouth.
“No, if we all back off they’ll attack. In fact, it might be better to move slowly forward,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to upset anybody, but seeing what the dogs have been eating, if they bite us do you think they will infect us?” John added very quietly.
Miles and I looked at him.
“I don’t think we needed to think about that at this moment in time, John,” said Miles under his breath.
Mat had just reached the corner house, and as he disappeared from view behind the house I turned my attention back to the slowly approaching dogs.
“Follow me,” I said quietly, taking a step forward. Miles and John did the same. The dogs halted, but held their ground.
“I think they may be after some fresh meat – us,” said John quietly.
“I do wish you would keep your thoughts to yourself, John,” breathed Miles.
I looked behind us to see if Mat was on his way, and so did Miles. That was fatal, because at that moment the dogs attacked. The closest was about 20 yards away, and John dropped it with two shots to the head from the .22. Miles and I both fired at the Alsatian, and as it fell to the ground the top of the pile seemed to take off as rooks, magpies, jackdaws and carrion crows took to the sky. The surrounding grass starte
d to move, too, as hundreds of rats ran in all directions heading for their burrows. Each of us dropped a medium-size dog as the rats starting to run between our legs in sheer panic. The large mongrel was the closest, less than 15 yards away, when we all fired at it at once but, although hit a number of times, it kept coming. Miles and I fired again, and the dog eventually dropped at our feet completely covered in blood from its wounds. The remaining dogs then turned and ran away, crossing the cricket pitch on the opposite side of the road, and disappeared into the distance. The rats were still running past us as John fired a few shots at them in the hope of thinning them out, but he only hit two.
“John, save your ammo – we can get them with the air rifle,” I said.
“Do you need any help?” asked Mat, joining us on the edge of the green. We looked at him curiously.
“Better late than never. Let’s start this fire before anything else happens,” said John.
We spent the next 15 gruesome minutes collecting half-chewed body parts that had been pulled from the pile of corpses by the vermin, including the body of a young boy that was missing an arm and part of one leg, removed by a dog. John emptied the remaining contents of the petrol can over the bodies and Mat supplied the lighter. We stood back a safe distance in silence as the fire took hold and the fatty tissues of the corpses started to burn, along with the clothing. We continued to watch the fire for another 20 minutes as it sent great plumes of smoke into the air.
“Do you think this will draw attention from the infected?” asked Mat.
“Not sure, but I don’t think we should hang around to find out,” replied John.
Miles and I nodded in agreement. We walked back through the barricade and headed for our own houses after saying goodbye. John and I entered a living room deserted except for Sheba, who was very pleased to see us. We assumed Mary and Josephine were still at number 43. I went into the kitchen and extracted one of Sheba’s favourite chews from the cupboard, and as I turned she was sitting right behind me with a paw in the air waiting in anticipation. I shook her paw and placed the chew in her mouth, and she went into the living room with her tail wagging and began to eat.
“Time for tea. I’ll make it,” John said.
“Good idea,” I replied.
This is a rare occasion, I thought. John never made the tea unless ordered to by Josephine. I sat in the armchair and started reloading the shotgun and checking the ammo situation. We were getting very low on the 12-bore SG cartridges. John appeared with the tea and passed a cup to me; it tasted so good – probably because I didn’t have to make it myself. John sat in the other armchair and started reloading the Ruger magazine.
“We are nearly out of the SG ammo,” I said.
“Is there anywhere else we could get some?”
“Nowhere close by. Just have to use BB or one-shot – at least that should be more readily available.”
“We’ll have to get some soon before other people have the same idea,” commented John.
“Depending on how long this infection goes on, we may find ourselves using bows and arrows in twelve months’ time, plus food will become a rare commodity.”
“In fact, Dad, we may have to move to a farm so we can grow our own food.”
“Trouble is, none of us knows how to run a farm – or farm machinery, for that matter,” I replied.
“Most of my generation know more about operating computers and playing online games than anything that would be practical in our current situation. With no electricity, that knowledge has now become absolutely useless,” said John, clearly depressed at the thought. John ran his own business in the information technology field, so he would be more worried than most.
John had finished both his tea and loading the Ruger magazine.
“Let’s go and see how your mum and Josephine and our Linda are getting on,” I said.
“Let’s go, then,” John replied, seeming pleased to be doing something.
Collecting our guns, I gave Sheba a pat before we left the house. She looked at me with those big brown eyes, as if to say, aren’t we going out yet?
Outside, the crackling of the fire on the green broke the unusual silence and the putrid smell of burning bodies hung in the air as the smoke drifted across the estate. As we approached the door of number 43, we could see it was slightly ajar. John pushed it open and shouted “Hello”. Barbara appeared at the living room door.
“Hello, Uncle John, hi Grandad,” she said.
“Hello Barbara. Have you finished putting your stuff away?” I asked, noticing that she was wearing her hearing aid. I was also trying to make her feel important.
“Nearly finished, Grandad – come and look.”
Barbara turned and went back into the living room, indicating that John and I should follow. We dutifully obeyed and saw that most of the supplies had now been removed from the floor.
Mary came in, with Josephine close behind.
“You finally managed to make an appearance, then,” said Mary.
“We heard the guns being fired,” commented Josephine before I could reply to Mary’s sarcastic remark.
“Yeah, we have another problem now,” replied John.
“Oh, what’s that?” asked Josephine.
“Yes, tell us,” said Mary. John had the women’s full attention now.
“I want to know too,” asked Linda as she stood in the doorway.
“You’d better tell them, John,” I said.
“Well, the gunshots you heard were not us shooting at infected people, but at something that may be far more dangerous mainly because of their speed.”
John paused a few seconds for effect before continuing, and the ladies were leaning slightly forward.
“When we arrived at the pile of bodies, there were vermin everywhere. But as we approached we could hear some strange growling.” John paused again.
“Hello all, I think we’ve finished,” said Brian as he approached unannounced from behind, having been upstairs.
“Brian, be quiet,” said Linda impatiently. “John is telling us what happened to them.”
“There were a number of dogs feeding on the infected corpses,” John continued, “and they weren’t impressed that we had interrupted their meal and attacked us. We shot about half of them before the rest ran off.”
“You mean you shot a dog?” said Mary, accusingly. She was a confirmed dog-lover.
“We had no choice – it was either them or us,” I said in John’s defence. “Remember, they had been feeding off the infected bodies, and one bite from them could have infected us too.”
“Oh, I never thought of that,” said Mary.
The other ladies and the older children who had joined us were starting to look a bit apprehensive as the implications of what John and I had said started to dawn on them.
“OK, then, does anybody want something to eat and drink?” asked Brian.
“Yes, we do,” John confirmed on behalf of everyone.
Linda, Brian and Elizabeth went into the kitchen to organise our beverages, while the rest of the adults, the two young children and Jack stayed in the living room.
John and I played with the two young girls and Jack sat looking exceptionally bored, probably because he could not play football, while Mary and Josephine discussed how they should organise the house. Needless to say, we had sandwiches again. After an hour or so we left Brian and Linda to get acquainted with their new accommodation. The close was deserted of all life as we walked back to our own house, still carrying our firearms.
“Dad, shall we see how our fire is doing?” said John, not really wanting to go back inside as it was only 5.00 pm and we still had daylight.
“OK. Mary – John and I are going to check on our bonfire – see you in a minute,” I said, pleased to be active again.
John and I made our way through the barri
cade and then cautiously looked around the corner of the detached house. I started to move forward but John stopped me.
“Dad, wait – look there!” he said in a low whisper.
A man was standing completely motionless on the pavement at the edge of the green. He was quite slim and fit-looking and at least six feet tall, wearing some heavily worn jeans and a yellow t-shirt which, as far as we could see, was covered in blotches of blood. He appeared to be watching the fire, which we could hear quite clearly as it crackled, along with the hissing of escaping gases and boiling liquids.
The man was 50 yards from us and oblivious to our presence as we slowly approached. John started to take aim as we closed the distance to 40 yards. Tapping John on the shoulder, I indicated to him not to shoot yet. The man turned slightly to reveal a shovel he was holding in his right hand. We were now only 30 yards from him.
“Hello,” said John. It sounded overly loud in an evening silent apart from the crackling fire.
The man was taken by surprise, and lifted the shovel into a protective position.
“Hello,” he replied with some hesitation. It occurred to me that he had probably not met any real people in days.
John was still pointing the rifle at the man’s head, which would make most people feel a little uneasy, including me.
“Lower your gun, John,” I said under my breath. John did so, and the man visibly relaxed.
“It’s nice to meet someone who isn’t infected,” I said. “Do you live far away?”
“Not far, at the other end of Connor Way.”
“We barricaded our close off just around the corner of that house on the left,” I said, pointing towards the detached house. “How’re you doing for food and drink?”
“We’re OK at the moment, but we will have to do something in the next couple of days. How are you coping?”
We moved closer to each other as our mutual trust increased.
“We are OK for now, anyway. We came to inspect our fire.”
We had finally arrived at the edge of the green.
“So, you lit this, then,” he said.
“Yeah, with the help of our neighbours.”
Infected- The Beginning Page 17
