Paxman: Really, where’s the Prime Minister? Is he hiding from the media? He’s not been seen since his basketball game.
Curtis: Really, Jeremy, we were just getting along so well.
Eight
“I’m afraid I’m not very hungry tonight.” It was a late dinner, so the kids had already left for bed. In the Prime Minister’s apartment at 10 Downing Street, David Sterling stared at the plate in front of him.
“I didn’t think you would be, but you should eat something. Just a little.” Kim pulled her chair closer to her husband.
“I’ll try.” Sterling placed his hand on his wife’s as he forced his mouth’s corner to rise into a half smile. At least things were moving now. He was being seen to be doing something. But the country was in complete chaos and he’d go down in history as the Prime Minister who nearly lost the north of England. He knew he’d reclaim it, but at the cost of many hundreds and thousands of lives, maybe even millions if these creatures weren’t stopped. He feared for his wife and family more than for his self and his own reputation. How would all this affect them in the long term? He cut his chicken drum stick with his knife and shovelled it into his mouth. “It’s a bit cold, Kim.”
“Of course it is, you missed dinner. But you’re forgiven.” She took the plate and placed it in the microwave. “Just a few seconds should do it.” When it was done, she returned the plate to her husband.
“Thank you, dear.” He took another bite. “Much better, thanks.”
She sat and pulled her chair even closer. “The kids missed you, but they all said hi. I think Stephen seems a little affected with…you know.”
“School?”
“I’m a little worried, but it’ll pass. We have faith in you.” She took a chip from his plate, placing it in her mouth. “I’ve been looking at design ideas for the refurb. I’m quite liking the yellow. Something bright and cheerful and the kids will love it.”
“Well then, yellow it is.”
“Downstairs may look like a museum but up here will be more modern. David, don’t let them push you around. You’re PM for a reason.”
“Dear?”
“I just wish you’d be a little more decisive sometimes. And you know what the media is. Don’t let them dictate what you do.”
“I just wish it was as simple as that, Kim.”
“I’m off to bed. Turn the lights out when you’re done.”
BBC News - 4 November, 08:00
In the BBC News Centre, Portland Place, London, Presenter Bill Turnbull interviews Professor Dame Kelly Barker, Chief Medical Officer for England.
BT: Are you any closer to finding out just what seems to be afflicting giant swathes of the population with symptoms such as extreme violence, hunger and of course, cannibalism?
PDKB: In a word, no!
BT: Feel free to elaborate, Professor.
PDKB: We have no idea what is happening to the population of England. This is quite a unique occurrence in the history of mankind.
BT: The papers have been saying for a couple of days now, that it originated in Leeds.
PDKB: Well of course, Leeds is where the outbreak, and we are now free to call this an outbreak, started. We are around eighty percent certain that the epicentre was Leeds General Infirmary. The only problem is, there’s nobody alive to tell us just what was happening in the hospital at the time. There are no living witnesses; medical, managerial or even patients.
BT: I suppose expecting an imminent cure would be too much to ask?
PDKB: Unfortunately, that would be a wise supposition. Without knowing just what is causing people to see red, turn on their fellow man and begin ripping at their flesh with their finger nails, then reverse engineering an actual cure is that much more difficult.
BT: The army has stated they have numerous afflicted individuals captured and secured. From what our sources tell us, they are being kept in straitjackets within padded cells inside special vehicles on a disused army base somewhere secret. Can’t having these people under lock and key yield more immediate results with regards to a cure?
PDKB: Well it’s a step in the right direction. Having these people under close observation will help us to understand the exact nature of the problem. And believe me, we are analysing them extremely closely. But as for a cure, let’s not get our hopes up at this early stage. We still don’t know just what the matter is with these people. I’m unable to give away too many details due to official secrets policies. But let’s just say that these people do not exactly respond to normal human stimuli.
BT: How do you mean, Professor?
PDKB: Well, for one, they don’t appear to react to pain. Imagine having your fingers crushed, or having boiling water poured over your feet. Or worse. Imagine having an amputation without anaesthetic. Imagine having these things done to you without even realising they were being done. This is the kind of thing we’re dealing with here. Is a cure for these people even possible? Who knows?
BT: The Sun newspaper, this morning, has come out and named them “zombies.”
PDKB: The Sun always likes to be the first in there don’t they. I assume having the word “zombies” splashed across the front page may increase circulation of that particular tabloid. But we all know zombies are fiction, an invention of Hollywood. I’m a doctor, I don’t deal with Hollywood. I deal with facts and science.
BT: Professor, thank you for joining us this morning.
Nine
The helicopter landed in the centre of the field, its propeller creating patterns in the grass, terrified sheep running in all directions. The door slid open and Sterling exited, accompanied by several bodyguards and staff members.
“Any cameras?” He glanced around. “I don’t see them.”
“I see them, sir, congregating by that third truck.”
“Good! Let them see me, that I’m here and taking charge. But don’t let them come close. Today’s not about interviews. Today’s about taking a lead.”
The small group strode across the field, through the narrow stile and onto the isolated country road. This was the front line of the fight back; a few trucks laden down with huge rolls of barbed wire. Ordinarily, this place might have made a fine beauty spot, but now the roars humming from the trucks and the media sideshow were obliterating that image.
The first truck ground slowly along the road, two men stood on the back, holding steady the large industrial roll of fence as it slowly uncoiled. As the truck progressed, a dozen men were revealed in its wake. Two men threaded poles through the wire and moved on to the next section a metre or so farther along. Then two men behind them positioned and hammered the poles into the ground. The next man carried out the inspection. Following him, three men attached small battery powered electric shock units to the poles and wired them to the fences. Another man followed and tested the current running through the fence.
This was but one section of the 240 mile fence. From east to west, there were twelve teams, each charged with securing twenty mile portions.
The crash alerted Sterling’s attention further down the road, to where a house had found itself in the way of a bulldozer clearing the path. “I think we’ll be right on schedule.”
“At least our section will be, Mr Sterling. The countryside’s easy, fewer obstacles, and the posts hammer through earth easier than they do concrete.” The filthy foreman was tired and Sterling sympathised with the hard effort the team were putting in. But it was for the good of the nation.
“I’m taking a personal lead with this project, Foreman, so if there’s anything I can do to make your job easier then just tell me what…anything at all.” He wondered for how long he should talk to the man. Probably long enough for the cameras to see he was getting his hands dirty. He rolled up his sleeves for an added visual.
“Well, sir, personally I don’t think this fence will stop ‘em.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen the videos. And I’ve a mate who barely escaped the north. We need more!
We need diggers at the very least, digging trenches, and quick. The fuckers will fall in the trenches and be stuck there. Then we simply come along and tip asphalt on them, shoot them or stick bayonets in their eye sockets. That’s how you deal with zombies, sir.”
“Right, I’m hearing you. Are you sure you’re the Foreman?”
“Aye.”
“And there’s definitely no one else more senior about?”
“No, just me.”
“You know, we’re going to be manning the entire length of the fence with police and volunteers.”
“More brains for the zombies, sir.”
“Right…Ok…Maybe you’re right then.” He couldn’t go for the trench option at this late stage, it would make him look silly, but it was better to be safe than sorry. After all, he would look a whole lot sillier if thousands, millions of “zombies” were to pass through this fence with impunity. He studied it for a while. It reached up to the level of his chest, hardly enough to stop a determined maniac, but it was the best that could have been done on such short notice. And it wasn’t like the Chancellor of the Exchequer had planned for a zombie takeover in the March budget. No, he would have to rely on the electricity to take them down.
“Seriously, I think we need trenches, sir.”
Sterling conceded with a nod. “Bells, get on the phone to Angela and get these bloody trenches organised.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sterling glared at the camera crews. Bloody hell, but there had to be over a hundred media personnel, some pretty big hitters included. Thankfully, they were being kept at a distance.
Well, he’d put in an appearance.
Good show.
Time to head back to London.
Sky News - 4 November, 13:00
As the headlines come to a close, the camera closes on a row of terraced housing being demolished by wrecking balls and bulldozers. The camera pans out to reveal presenter Bill Stansfield.
Bill Stansfield: We are live at one o’ clock in the town of Corby, Northamptonshire which, as you can see, is unfortunate enough to lie on the Sterling North-South Divide Line. You will have just witnessed a row of homes being demolished. If you look to the left of your screens right now, you’ll see a school which also lies on the SNSDL. We’ve been on the trail with Fence Team 7 since day break and what follows now is a short montage of the day’s activities.
The two minute montage shows footage of the fence being erected along roads, through parkland and one airport runway. Then an office block is levelled using IMX-101 explosives. The montage concludes by showing members of Fence Team 7 eating whilst working in order to complete the job as fast as possible, sweat glistening across their foreheads.
BS: We will be joined shortly by the leader of the opposition, Chiles Warburton, but right now I have Mr and Mrs Thompson, residents, or should I say, former residents of number 27 Welland Vale Road. Mr Thompson, how does it feel seeing your home levelled in order to build this fence?
Mr Thompson: I am livid! I am absolutely livid with rage. We were asleep at four o’ clock this morning when they knocked on our door and told us we had one hour to gather our things and leave. Our kids were crying their eyes out and we had no choice in the bloody matter. We’ve lived on this street since we got married, it’s been our home for nearly twenty years and now we’re bloody homeless because of this government.
BS: Mrs Thompson, what happens now? I see you both stood here with your three children and I’m thinking, there has to be some kind of plan for you. What have you been told to do?
Mrs Thompson: The men who came said there’s a reception centre just on the outskirts of town, but when we phoned them, they said they weren’t even ready to receive us yet. The whole bloody thing’s just a shambles. It’s all been so rushed and nobody is organised or anything. The most important thing is the kids and…
…Pause…
BS: Mrs Thompson, I see you’re very upset about this, quite understandable, so we’ll leave it there. Thank you both very much for your time.
In the background, a large section of Welland Vale Road collapses. Dust shoots up into the sky and then the crash carries to the sound boom on the wind.
BS: We are here now, live with leader of the opposition, Chiles Warburton. Mr Warburton, what are your thoughts as to the present state of affairs? Here we are on a Wednesday afternoon demolishing homes in an ordinary English town, in order to build a 240 mile fence to keep at bay, what the media is now referring to as a “zombie attack.”
Chiles Warburton: Well, Bill, I’d just like to begin by saying how sorry I am for all the people that are losing their homes today because of government mismanagement. Here I am, placing my hand on my heart, which aches, it aches Bill for these poor people here in Corby today. I feel for these people, Bill, and I just wish there was something more I could do here today. Now, with regards to what you referred to as the “present state of affairs,” I don’t think there’s really much I can add that hasn’t already been said by those in the media, all around the world who have taken an extremely dim view of David Sterling’s mismanagement of this crisis. I honestly don’t know where to begin with it, Bill. Let’s start by mentioning the total cock up in Leeds, the lack of funding for disease treatment at Leeds General Infirmary, the total capitulation of our police force, which was no doubt caused by lack of morale due to budgetary cuts, his playing basketball whilst all this was unfolding, the dithering on taking any action and let’s not forget the Twitter fiasco, Bill, which was entirely of his own making.
BS: Mr Warburton, the Prime Minister, by your admission may have been a little slow at taking action, but here we are today, in Corby and I’m sure you’ll agree, tough action has indeed been taken. Things are now moving! No matter how hard this will be for some people, there seems to be the general feeling around what’s left of the country that this is the right move.
CW: Bill, it’s too little too late. Any other government would have been on this earlier and the millions of people north of this line who are thought to be either dead or hiding in their homes would not have been in any trouble whatsoever. I mean, before this interview, you were speaking to a family who’d just witnessed their home being bulldozed. Do you really think this is the correct way to go about this whole mess?
BS: Well, Mr Warburton, how would you do things differently?
CW: Well, Bill, it’s neither here nor there is it. The Shadow Defence Secretary has had talks with senior military officials and they’re at odds over whether this fence will even hold back these deranged lunatics who are moving south even as we speak. I understand that we barely have a military remaining in this country due to government cuts, I understand that the Prime Minister is too proud to ask the Scots for support, in which case, wouldn’t the better option have been to arm the public and march north, taking the fight to these “zombies.” If instead, however, you’re going to do it this way, then you might as well do it right, but we’re not even digging any trenches, which military personnel had advised the Prime Minister to do.
BS: So the digging of trenches would make you happy?
CW: I stand here in Corby today and I beg the Prime Minister to consider the digging of trenches. At least that way we’ll have that one extra barrier between us and what appears to be a painful death, judging by the now thousands of Youtube videos. This whole thing has been one big rushed job. I mean, the SNSDL? Doesn’t that just prove it? They didn’t even give themselves time to come up with a better name than that.
BS: Mr Warburton, you must be relishing the upcoming general election?
CW: Oh how crass, Bill, talking about elections at a time such as this. All that matters to me is the long term safety of the people of this country. I truly mean it when I say that.
BS: Thank you Mr Warburton. Let’s go over to my colleague Dermot Murnaghan who is right now by the Corby checkpoint.
The camera concentrates on a long queue of traffic, which stretches for around half a mile, before an industr
ial complex cuts off the view. Suitcases are strapped to car roofs, they pile up and some tilt to obscene angles. The cars are waved through the checkpoints into a quarantined area beyond. Refugees pass through on foot also. Some carry belongings, while others are empty handed. They are all herded toward the same quarantined area as the vehicles.
Dermot Murnaghan: Thank you, Bill. As you can see, I’m on the north side of the Corby checkpoint, one of twelve such checkpoints along the SNSDL. The process is pretty simple. Refugees are gathered into the temporary quarantine areas where they are checked over by medical staff. Those who pass the checks are allowed immediate access to the south. Those who require more checks are given a red ticket number and are escorted to one of the warehouses, which you should be able to see on the right of your screens. These checkpoints are staffed by military personnel, along with volunteers from the local area and beyond. I will now try and speak to one of the refugees, let’s see now…Hello sir, how are you today?
The camera closes on a man holding a suitcase in each hand. He appears happy to oblige the journalist.
Man: Hello.
DM: Sir, tell us your story. You’re now crossing this checkpoint along with many others. Where have you come from? What are your feelings with what’s happening in Corby today?
Man: I’ve only come from Uppingham, so not too far. Up until this morning I just assumed the media were making a big fuss about nothing.
DM: Sir, you haven’t witnessed any extreme violence north of the line?
Man: Not yet no. But it seemed like half my town were packing and leaving, so I thought I’d best leave too. About half my friends are already south of the line, but I know people who just refused to leave and have barricaded themselves in their houses.
DM: And why did you not think to do that?
Man: Well the B&Q was closed, so I had nowhere to buy materials. I thought, better be safe than sorry, so I left and here I am, a little confused but hopefully safe.
Zombie Revolution Page 4
