by Aline Riva
Seasons of Z book One:
DEAD WINTER
Seasons of Z Book One : Dead Winter by Aline Riva & Jay Jarvis
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Seasons of Z Book One : Dead Winter
© Aline Riva 2019
©Jay Jarvis 2019
The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved. No part of this publication be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Seasons of Z book One:
DEAD WINTER
Chapter 1
The bridge that led into the village was blocked off with cars and rubble. The snow had started falling two weeks into January and the skies were slate grey and the ground below coated thick and deep with a frozen white layer that reflected blue. The snow was soft and deep, and marked by blood and trails that were not the footsteps of the living. Bodies lay scattered and torn apart, left where they fell because no one who had survived the onset of the virus wanted to take a chance and move the dead.
The once picturesque village had descended into hell along with the rest of the country, and slowly, the rest of the world had been joining them. It had started late November, an incident at a research facility, the footage shown on TV of the masked people with guns making demands had seemed to be a hostage situation, perhaps protesting the use of animals at the remote and until now unheard of Marshcast. Except that the facility didn't experiment on animals. They had forced a lab technician to unlock a door and what came out of it was human – just about, with greying skin and freakishly long teeth and eyes that were wild as it roared and lashed out. It killed two of the gunmen, and then the lab technician all while the camera was rolling. Blood splashed the lens as the world watched it feed. And it got out. Peppered by bullets, it refused to die as it attacked the very people sent there to diffuse the situation. Scores were injured, until a shot that took its head off and spattered its brains up a wall, finally killed the creature. And that was what it was, a creature. Not human, not living, but a reanimated corpse.
This was what the gunmen were ranting about before they forced the lab staff to do the big reveal, they wanted to tell the world that the government was finding a new solution to poverty and debt and the struggle to keep the country in balance – they said, it was population control. A virus to wipe out two thirds of the global population. And no one believed it. Not until the bitten and the injured began to turn...
It spread fast. Three weeks after the first incident, the UK was over run by the infected. By now it had spread by ports and airports to Europe, then further across the globe. Now it was the middle of January and the last TV broadcast had ended a week ago. All channels were down, electricity was gone, gas supplies were cut off and drinking water had to be boiled because the undead were even in the reservoirs. This was their solution, to deny everything, blame the virus on an unknown origin and declare the state of emergency as a situation where hope for control was lost. It had been almost two months, and the living were becoming the minority.
And the small village of Belwick on Thames was semi deserted, more than half the population had fled during the start of the emergency while the rest had opted to stay, hoping the fact that being far from the cities and towns meant there would be a degree of safety. But they found a way in, after the motorways gave way to chaos and death and the bitten turned and came wandering in, deceptively slow in their movement as they set dead eyes on the living, only to move at speed, in silence, like wild animals hunting prey.
Now there were armed patrols around the new village border, the bridge was cut off and fencing had been put up, enclosing the upper half of the village, shutting out the rest as through the mesh the patrols spotted the dead lumbering towards them and took them out with carefully aimed shots. They killed an average of twelve per day. So far none had got in, but the village stores were running low on food and medicine and essential items. Empty houses were being picked clean as the few who chose to stay went back to burning open fires as for the first time in many years, modern heating systems stayed cold as smoke poured from chimneys.
If this was what the government had wanted, they had more than succeeded – if there was any truth to that report seen on TV. This wasn't a method to cut down excess global population, this was Armageddon as the living struggled to make it through each day, dealing with the cold as well as food shortage and the collapse of society as well as the lurking threat of the undead, stalking the streets looking for fresh blood. It was chaos, it was dangerous out there. And living behind the barriers in a small village in the middle of the countryside had seemed like a safe bet, until now...
From her bedroom window, Sage Hathaway could see frozen fog rolling across the fields in the distance. Somewhere, a shot rang out. Got another one before it got in, she thought silently, then she crossed the floor to the warmth of the flickering flames that burned in the fireplace as she paused to appreciate the heat. The dead were recently turned and dull white with a bluish hue, their eyes were wild and their teeth long and sharp. She had seen one right up against the fencing, grasping at what suddenly seemed like very fragile mesh as dead hands gave it a shake. Then one of the lads from the village had shot it in the head and it had fallen and stayed down. She didn't want to think what those creatures would smell like come spring, by summer the whole country would stink of death and decay. Twenty-two year old Sage had stopped asking why and how this had happened, she didn't know if there was a global conspiracy that had got out of hand, or if there was another explanation – rumours had surfaced online that maybe it had been an experiment to defy death itself or to use the dead as weapons of war. But the truth of the matter was obscured and all that mattered now was getting through this and surviving for the next twelve months until the virus burned itself out.
That was the only thing that seemed to be certain, the knowledge that the virus had a shelf life of twelve months. Sage could still recall the last broadcast, no people, no live report, just a message on the TV screen:
'The country is now in shutdown. You are advised to stay in your home, or an alternative place of secure safety. Do not approach the affected, do not assist the wounded – they are also affected and can not be saved. Before active research into a cure was forced to shut down, it was discovered that the virus has a lifespan of twelve months. After this time, we can reclaim our world, until then, all we can do is stay safe, secure and get through this year of crisis together. This broadcast will terminate in seventy two hours. Please follow guidelines to maximise chances of safety and survival.'
And that was all.
No help was coming, and hurriedly put together survival guidelines had basically consisted of printed leaflets advising all to hide behind safe, secure locked doors and to stay away from the infected.
In other words, bullshit, Sage thought.
But she didn't want to think about how this started, or to mourn the loss of what life used to be – she just wanted to get through it. Survival had been something she had come to understand well at the age of nineteen when her widowed father had died suddenly. Now it was just her and Poppy, her eleven year old sister, living in this big four bedroom house that had once been a family home, but her Mother had died after complications following Poppy's birth, and with that blow to recover from, Sage had thought nothing that terrible could ever happen again. Then her father had died and now, the whole world had gone to hell. But the fire
was burning and the house was warm enough and she and Poppy were still safe – for now.
Sage felt a deep pain in her heart as she thought of Bess, who had been living and working in the city when the crisis had begun. She had known her since college, been her friend for several years, but after they had got closer, her heart had felt as if she had loved her forever. She didn't want to think back to last summer and their trip to the coast and how the sunlight had caught on her long dark hair as her eyes had shone with warmth as she laughed, back in the days before normal life was ended.
“It's getting bad here, Sage,” Bess had told her on their final call, “I'm getting out tomorrow – while I still can. I'll see you soon.”
That had been the day electricity had been shut off and with it, all lines of communication. That had been back in December, and the cities were over run now with the dead. She didn't want to think Bess was gone. She didn't believe she was gone, because she was smart and resourceful and if she had a chance to get away, if the roads had been blocked or travelling South had been a problem, she would have headed to the coast. That was the alternative plan, to get to the coast if the route was blocked. Bess had to stay until the last minute, she had no choice because she was a paramedic, and Sage had heard enough in her calls about the horrors she had seen, partially eaten people dying in front of her and then coming back as something less than human. It had become too dangerous to stay out there and do her job, that was when she had known there was no hope to turn this crisis around, not if the emergency services had to pack up and call it a day...
“She's alive, she's still alive,” Sage muttered quietly as she left the room, crossing the hallway to her sister's bedroom, it wasn't late, but it was dark and Poppy always went to bed when the sun set because she said monsters were in the dark outside. Not entirely true, monsters were everywhere all the time now...
Before she entered the room, movement caught her eye in the hallway as moonlight spilled in through the open door and it gave her a jolt, until she turned around with a racing heart to see her own reflection staring back at her from the mirror on the wall, she looked pale and tired and her light brown hair hung lank at her shoulders, she looked as if she hadn't slept for days, but living like this, did this to everyone. At least her sister was safe, that was what she thought as she went into the bedroom to check on her.
And she found her room empty. The bed was made, it had not been slept in. Poppy's blue snow coat was missing, so were her boots and hat and gloves.
“Poppy?” she yelled, as only the echo of her own voice came back at her.
Then she saw it, folded on her pillow. She snatched up the note as silver moonlight spilled in and read her neatly written words:
Don't be cross, Sage. I can see the school from my window and she's been standing there all day at the fence, in the playground looking out. I know it's Maya, she has the same coat as me. I took a torch and a knife from the kitchen to scare off the monsters. DON'T shout at me, I will be okay! I have to save my friend!
Sage ran to the window and dashed aside the curtain. Across the field, framed by trees, she saw the mesh fencing that gave a moonlit view of the school playground. It looked empty. Poppy had gone out there in the dark to brave the monsters because she believed her best friend was in need of help. She was wrong. Her best friend was one of the monsters...
“You idiot!” Sage said in a breathless panic, then she ran from the room and down the stairs, grabbing her padded coat and throwing it on, then snatching up her car keys. She got as far as the front door and then remembered she would need more than just her determination if her sister was to stay alive. She grabbed the loaded rifle propped up against the wall and hurried out, heading for the car.
Petrol was running low. The pumps wouldn't last forever at the local filling station and as a former police officer before the chaos had ripped away normal life, it was between Joy Evans and other former figures of authority in the village to form a committee to oversee rationing, of everything, after the barriers went up – until supplies ran low and even the sweet old lady who used to work in the local charity shop had joined the mob to loot the stores, then it was pretty clear authority meant little around here any more. People took what they wanted. Sometimes they turned savage. A small gang of local boys had started stealing cars for joy rides and setting them on fire in the park. In the old days that would have been a rare and serious occurrence in this village, but now it was different. When word had got to Joy that some youths had set a car on fire in the park she had shrugged and said, At least they're staying warm. It was all different now. The law had no power any more.
But at least she still had the local police station, and a supply of guns and ammo left behind when her colleagues had evacuated. She had stayed because she had no one waiting for her, she was thirty nine years old and her whole life had been her career, and it wouldn't have been that way if she had known this was going to happen...She would have lived more, been less cautious, got over the bad divorce and started dating again. She would have got drunk more and taken expensive holidays. This crisis was supposed to be over in a year. The only thing she was certain of was the fact that this time next year, none of the living would still be around if they didn't do something about the lack of supplies. The remaining few who had stayed couldn't go on much longer, the food would be gone soon...
The sudden urgent knocking on the window of her squad car made her jump. She sat up sharply in her seat, ran her fingers through short blonde hair and took a deep breath. Her bright green gaze met with his wide, agitated eyes as she recognised him at once. Everyone who was out in the dark was wrapped up against the cold, most were armed and on night watch at the fences, but she knew Curtis Barker instantly. His fair hair was hidden beneath a warm woollen hat, his snow coat was zipped up to his chin and he tapped on the window in thermal gloves for a second time as his breath formed an icy cloud in the air. As the window slid down, he looked on the verge of panic.
“It's a long story,” he began, “But you need to get out to Cobbit's Wood!”
The window had slid all the way down and the night air was sharp. Curtis stood there with his gun in his hand, but at his side. So no zombie invasion, then... What was this about? She had known Curtis all her life, at twenty-three he had been young to take over his father's crop farming business, but that was what he had done after ill health had forced him to retire early. His parents had taken a retirement home by the sea. With communication down, he didn't even know if they were still alive, but he had been one of the first to offer to use his legally held shotgun to defend the village on night patrols after the crisis had hit. He wasn't the type to be jumpy, but tonight, he looked scared.
“You have to hurry!” he said.
“What's happened?” Joy asked.
“I don't know them...” he told her quickly, avoiding her eyes as he looked away, “But they had ammo and spare guns and I was interested in doing business. Said I'd trade them for a piece of my land for the duration of the crisis, but then there was shouting inside one of the vehicles and -”
“You're trading with outsiders?”
He met her gaze.
“What other choice do we have? All this bullshit about not going beyond the barrier won't keep us alive for much longer!”
Joy was glad she was in her own warm winter clothing and not her uniform any more, because he was sounding more and more like a speeding driver who had just been stopped at the roadside by the cops, and she just knew the uniform would have made him feel even worse as he tried to explain his actions away.
“If you think it's lawless here, you should see what it's like further out!” she reminded him, “It's not just the dead we have to worry about! The law has no power any more, it's not safe -”
“Joy,” he cut in, “They're armed. And they pulled this guy out of their motor home and said he's Flora Deering's brother, so they're going to hang him. They've got rope, too!”
She started the engine.
“Get in!”
He ran around to the other side of the car then as she opened the door, he hesitated.
“I don't want to get caught up in a gunfight.”
Joy glared at him.
“I need you to jump out before I leave the village, to tell the guys to raise the bloody barrier!” she snapped, “Now get in!”
Curtis looked left and right, as if taking a last look at the safety of their cut off community, then he jumped in and closed the door, “I thought it was the dead outside we had to worry about, not the living!”
“Whole world's gone mad,” she said as she drove away, resisting the old habit of putting on the siren, because noise might attract the dead as she cleared the barrier, “A lynch mob? It's getting worse out there! What's he done?”
“Who?”
The snowy road was little challenge for the squad car as she took the route away from the bridge, a drive that led them past moonlit fields and trees beyond where anything could be lurking, with only a fence to keep them out as they headed for the barrier that led to the road to nearby woodland.
“Flora's brother, what's he done?” she repeated.
“Nothing, as far as I know...He's her brother and the guy said he used to work for Seth Hawker and -”
Her memory kicked in.
“Seth was a powerful gangland figure, John Deering was his rival, now they're both dead, killed in a gang war before the crisis happened and Flora Deering inherited everything from her husband, the guns, the power, the wealth, the lot... I heard a rumour some of the local guys were packing up to go into town to try and get work with her lot before the evacuation...Sounds like Seth's people ended up with nothing and Mickey was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
They took a sharp bend in the road and the tires skidded as the car swerved, headlights caught on the dead snarling face of a zombie, formerly a young woman who bared sharp fangs as flesh looked dull and blue-white. Its eyes were blazing and the shock of seeing it through the mesh fencing gave them both a jolt. The car skidded to a stop a fraction from the fence. The creature roared and shook at the mesh, teeth gleaming in moonlight.
