“Mary, leave the lead – just unclip the dog!” I shouted.
Josephine started to fire into the edge of the wood, managing to stop the infected from even reaching the ditch. I tried to do likewise but there were now too many of them, and three more had reached the track between the dog and the truck. At least 50 more were coming through the wood.
Then the boom! of the .375 filled the air as John fired down the side of the wood. After a short delay, Mary seemed to register what I had said and detached Sheba from her lead, but as she did so an infected grabbed her shoulder. Mary spun round to face her attacker, and let out a scream as she looked into the bright red eyes. Sheba took offence at someone attacking her owner and promptly sunk her teeth into the infected’s leg, causing it to back off a couple of steps, which gave Mary enough time to move clear. Sheba did not continue her attack, but dutifully followed Mary into the wheat field with Josephine, both of them moving towards me. I then put two well-aimed shots into the infected’s head.
Increasing numbers of infected were now taking over the track, and others were moving into the wheat field pursuing us. The sound of the .375 filled the air again, followed by a desperate shout from John.
“We’ve got to go now – there are too many of them!”
The ladies needed no further encouragement as they headed for the Micra.
“The keys are in the ignition, Mary!” I shouted.
I held my ground for all of 15 seconds, dropping as many infected as possible, and then bolted for John’s truck. Mary opened the rear passenger door of the Micra, allowing Sheba to jump in. Josephine used the remains of her last magazine to help John and, as Mary started the engine, threw the Ruger onto the back seat and jumped into the front. I reached the truck as the car pulled away, its front wheels spinning as the tyres struggled for grip on the dirt surface.
“Get the truck started!” I called to John.
John fired the last round in the magazine at two infected as they climbed from the ditch that surrounded the wood and headed towards him – a very tall, well-built man and a young, slim woman three yards behind. John let loose with the .375, hitting the man in the centre of the chest with a 270-grain bullet that passed clean through him as though he wasn’t there and then hit the woman between the eyes, creating a large bright-red dot in her forehead. She was spun round by the impact and landed face-down in the dirt with most of the back of her head missing, as the bullet had passed clean through her too. At first, the man appeared not to know he was supposed to be dead, as he remained motionless for a few seconds before collapsing to the ground after the women.
John turned and jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck. I only fired a further five rounds from the Ruger before the engine burst into life. Throwing the gun on the rear seat, I climbed into the front alongside John and was instantly pinned back in my seat as John accelerated along the dirt track up the hill towards the large house, now on our right. Looking in the nearside door mirror, I could see 30 or 40 infected standing where the truck had been a few moments before, looking a bit disappointed that they had lost their prey.
Once past the house, the track levelled out and the infected disappeared from view. John slowed down a little as he negotiated some of the larger potholes, and we returned by the same route we had come. Within five minutes we had pulled up in our car port. Mary was still sitting in the Micra waiting for us to arrive, and she then moved it back into the barricade. Josephine had already opened the front door of the house ready for our return. We collected the guns and ammo from the truck and waited by the front door for Mary to join us.
“We won’t be taking the dog for a walk down that track again – we’ll try the river next time!” said Mary.
“Next time? What do you mean, next time?” said John in exasperation.
“Maybe next week – hopefully things will have sorted themselves out by then,” I said, not sounding very confident.
Mary and John entered the house, but I heard another front door open, and turned to see Miles walking across the road to me.
“I’ll have a cup of tea, Mary,” I called as she disappeared into the living room. “I won’t be long.”
“Hi, James – how was your trip?” asked Miles.
“Well, at least we got John’s rifle zeroed,” I said.
I continued with the rest of my account, detailing how the infected had come through the wood.
“The infected would have heard the high-powered rifle from a long way off – they probably came from Hatfield Peverel,” Miles explained.
“What got me was how many there were, given we were out in the countryside,” I replied.
“Yeah, I reckon there must only be about five percent of the population left uninfected,” Miles added.
Miles and I continued our banter for about 15 minutes, when we heard another front door open. Soon Linda appeared from behind the small hedge, walking quickly towards us.
“Brian and Jack aren’t back yet, Dad,” said Linda, with an element of panic in her voice.
“How long have they been gone?” I asked.
“They left for Little Waltham soon after you,” replied Mary.
“What’s the time now?” I asked.
“Just after twelve,” replied Miles.
“So, that’s more than two hours,” I said. Little Waltham was normally only a 15-minute trip from Boreham.
“Perhaps some of the roads are blocked and they’ve had to take a different route,” I continued, trying to alleviate Linda’s growing fears.
“If you need to launch a search party, let me know, James,” said Miles.
“Thanks, Miles – I may see you later,” I replied.
Miles walked across the close back to his house.
“You’d better come in, Linda. With a bit of luck, tea should be ready,” I said, thinking that the chance of a chat with Mary might calm her down a little.
Linda stayed with us for the next hour and it was decided that we would instigate a search party if Brian and Jack had not returned by 2.00 pm.
John and I spent the next 30 minutes checking over the guns and reloading empty magazines. At 1.50, I went over to see Miles and told him the plan.
“OK, I’ll bring Jeffrey with me in the taxi,” he said.
“Between you and me, Miles, if they’re not on the usual route to Little Waltham I really don’t know where to look. Let’s face it, they could be anywhere.”
“Yeah, could be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Hang on – I can hear a car,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s coming this way.”
Brian’s MPV pulled up at the barricade.
“Thank God for that! I’ll get the Micra’s keys,” I said, heading back towards our house as Miles walked towards the barricade.
Before I reached our front door, Mary was standing there holding the keys in her hand. I was soon in the Micra and drove it forward onto Bill and Rose’s driveway, allowing Brian to pass through, moving the car back into position afterwards. Brian and Jack were chatting to Miles as I joined them, and Linda and Mary arrived soon afterwards.
“So, where have you been all this time? Jack, why are you covered in mud? And you’re soaking wet,” Linda said angrily, apparently disappointed that they were both OK and at the same time angry that she had been worrying for nothing.
“Well, it’s like this,” Brian began, telling us his story, with Jack filling in the occasional gory detail.
“We left here about four hours ago, and turned left into Waltham Road by the Cock Inn, passing Boreham airfield where the police helicopter place is and then left again towards the A130 past the far side of the airfield. We must have reached the A130 within five minutes, and the country lanes were clear of infected, live or otherwise. We turned right at the roundabout along the A130. This road was not so clear, as there were a
number of abandoned cars and trucks on the side – some cars had obviously hit others, as an articulated lorry had completely squashed one vehicle blocking half the carriageway, and we passed it on the other side of the road. There were several bodies lying in the road too, and as far as we could make out some of them had been shot, probably by a shotgun judging by the size of their wounds. This didn’t delay us, it just slowed us down a bit. Turning left at the next roundabout, we headed for Broomfield Hospital, and after a bit of fancy manoeuvring we were taking the slip road into Little Waltham. The last half-mile to my father’s house was again uneventful.”
Jack interrupted his father’s flow.
“To cut a long story short, basically, they weren’t back from their holiday and nobody was in.”
“OK, son – let me finish. The trip back was also uneventful until we entered the country lane again. We had just reached that horse-riding school on the left when an infected walked into the road directly in front of us. I swerved to avoid him and ended up putting the front of the MPV in a shallow ditch, managing to get it stuck. I did miss the infected person, but it would have been better if I had hit him, as things turned out. Looking in the door and rear-view mirrors, I saw him coming towards us, and before we had time to react I was looking into those bright red eyes less than a foot from my face, only separated by the glass in the side window. I instinctively recoiled, ending up leaning on Jack’s shoulder.
“God, that scared the shit out of me! I couldn’t get out on my side, so told Jack to get out and shoot him with the Ruger. Needless to say, Jack wasn’t very keen, as he hadn’t shot an infected person before. But after a couple of minutes of coaching, he agreed. We made sure the Ruger was cocked and loaded. Jack got out of the car, trying hard not to concentrate so much on what he had to do, but he fell into the ditch. He ended up soaking wet and covered in mud, but fortunately the rifle was OK. By the time Jack had extricated himself from the mud and water, the infected bloke had moved around the front of the vehicle, and was looking down on him from the side of the ditch. Jack acted on instinct as he used the rifle on the infected just as it leaped at him. He managed to get two shots off as the infected flew through the air, both bullets hitting him in the centre of the chest. Last thing I saw was the infected person colliding with Jack and both disappearing into the ditch together.
“The next few seconds were a bit of a blur, and the next thing I remember I was standing over the ditch with the shotgun in my hand terrified, as I was thinking the worst. Jack was back in the mud and water with the infected bloke lying on top of him, and I couldn’t even shoot as Jack was beneath the fellow. I froze for a few seconds wondering what to do, but suddenly the infected person began to move, and I took aim and fired at his head. Then he fell to one side as Jack had managed to push him off – he was dead. I had never felt so much relief in all my life as when I realised Jack had not been bitten. I asked Jack if he was OK and all he said was, ‘Dad, you’re going to have to show me how to use the shotgun, just in case we get any more of these close encounters’.
“I must admit it was a few seconds before I could concentrate on the next task, namely getting the MPV out of the ditch. The nearside front wheel was hanging over it, which left the rear offside wheel suspended in the air. When I tried to reverse out, the suspended front wheel would just spin ineffectively in the air. We tried pushing and pulling the car at first but it wouldn’t budge. While doing this, we continued to keep a lookout for any further infected that might come our way. In the end, we started to build a wall in the ditch from some rubble we found in the horse-riding school. We were close to finishing when the first infected turned up, and I dropped him with the shotgun. In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea as it made a very loud bang, which attracted three more, followed by a man and a woman. God knows what they had been eating, as they must have each weighed twenty-five stone. Jack was using the Ruger on them but the man would not go down until Jack had put at least eight two-twos in him, hitting him in the chest and head.
“Finally, he fell into the ditch as he reached the front of the MPV, demolishing our newly built wall in the process. So I started to build the wall again, with Jack acting as lookout. Jack shot another two before I had finished. We both got into the MPV so as to add a bit of weight to the front of the car. We moved back about a foot before my wall collapsed. I started to build the wall yet again, and fortunately it didn’t have to be so high this time, but then things took a turn for the worse as Jack spotted about thirty infected coming down the lane from the A130. He started to pick some of them off, loading the last magazine into the Ruger as he did so. I frantically finished the wall and, looking up, I saw half of the infected still left, not more than twenty yards from us. I told Jack to get in the car and I did too, starting the engine. This time we went back at least two feet before my wall collapsed, and by now the remaining infected were all around us, banging on the side of the vehicle. Four of them were at the back of the MPV, stopping us from reversing as we still had very limited grip.
“Well, I lost my temper. I pushed the infected over with the door as I got out with the shotgun, and took the guy’s head off as he lay on the ground. I shot another that was on my side of the vehicle and then systematically finished off the four at the back. Fortunately, nearly half of them had gone into the ditch and were struggling to get out. Going back to the driver’s door, a young woman came around the front of the MPV, and I shot her between her breasts, which sent her spinning backwards. I threw the empty shotgun onto the back seat and gave the MPV another go, and after a bit of slipping and sliding it shot backwards, running over one of the infected that had managed to extricate itself from the ditch. Others started to bang on the passenger door where Jack was sitting, just as we shot forward under full throttle. The rest of our trip was uneventful, and here we are, safe and sound – just!” Brian finished.
“Well, you two aren’t going out on your own again, that’s for sure,” said Linda sternly.
“Why’s that, Mum?” asked Jack.
“Look at the trouble you get into – I can’t leave you alone for two minutes!”
“I’ll let you sort that one out, Brian,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Thanks, James!”
“I may see you later, Miles – I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” I said. “Mary, time to go and let Linda and Brian sort themselves out.”
Mary reluctantly followed me back to our house.
John and Josephine were in deep conversation as I entered the living room.
“I see Brian and Jack are OK – what took them so long?” John asked.
“Yes, please tell us,” added Josephine.
Before I could speak, Mary interrupted me.
“I’ll tell them the story, James.” She did like to tell a good story – in fact she liked to talk, period. I left her in the living room with John and Josephine and went out into the back garden.
After strolling around for a while, I ended up looking in the shed, where I noticed our still-boxed generator on the floor. That should give us something to do for the rest of the day, I thought.
Back in the house, Mary had finished telling her version of Brian and Jack’s story, probably with a few added features as always.
“OK, John – new project,” I announced. “Shall we have a look at this generator you acquired?”
John’s eyes lit up – he did like fiddling about with something mechanical.
“Yeah, Dad, let’s do it,” he said as he got up from the sofa.
“So, you two are going to disappear again,” said Mary.
“We won’t be far away this time, Mary,” I added in our defence.
“I’ll make tea and something to eat – you won’t be long, will you?” added Josephine.
“I shouldn’t think so,” replied John.
Famous last words, I thought as I followed him out to the shed. We ext
racted the generator from its box and after reading the instructions fitted the loose parts and frame. We now needed some petrol. By this time, however, Josephine had prepared our food and drinks, and we sat with the ladies while we consumed our refreshments.
Afterwards we collected two one-gallon plastic petrol containers from the shed and armed ourselves with a piece of tubing, a crowbar, a shotgun and a Ruger 10/22. Passing through the barricade, we headed for the nearest abandoned vehicle that used petrol. Nearly half the vehicles in the UK were diesel as they were much more economical to run; most were turbocharged to give them a top-end performance similar to that of a petrol engine. Just before the green, we found a Ford Focus. Looking towards the green, we saw that the crows covered the remains of the partially burnt decomposing bodies, and the rats were just visible as they ran through the uncut grass. Using the crowbar, we soon had the petrol cap off. John put one end of the tubing in the tank, then sucked on the other and put it into the plastic container on the ground, so the petrol began to flow thanks to gravity. Something told me he had done this before.
The first container was only half full when a number of crows took to the air, cawing in alarm as a warning to others. This was accompanied by squeals from the rat population. I quickly turned my attention to the green but all I could see was the flock of crows circling overhead, as the corner house was blocking my view of most of the green.
“Wait here, John – I’ll look to see what’s happening,” I said, loading a three-inch magnum cartridge into the shotgun chamber. Weapon at the ready, I cautiously approached the nearest corner of the house by the green. With five yards to go, I planted the shotgun firmly in my shoulder, and at three yards I lifted the front bead to align the barrel with my eye. There was a growl and two very large Dobermanns were standing in front of me, teeth bared and still dripping blood from their last meal. Not willing to become their dessert, I fired at the left one, just because he was in my line of sight, and the other seemed slightly stunned by the noise and blast from the shotgun as his companion’s head exploded, sending bits of flesh, bone and black fur into the air, accompanied by a red mist. The remaining crows now took to the sky, shrieking in alarm, and the long grass seemed to come alive as numerous black furry creatures ran in all directions.
Infected- The Beginning Page 28
