Zombie Revolution

by K. Bartholomew

  As I approached the man, I glanced behind. The way was clear for a getaway, should it be necessary.

  “Javvo?”

  “You made it.” His voice was that same Texan drawl I’d listened to earlier.

  “I have the hardware, mate. You can have it.”

  His mouth moved in circles and I wondered what he was chewing. “Nobody followed you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He spat a stream of brown tobacco juice into the leaves before wiping a quantity of stray spittle from his chin. His teeth were stained brown. I looked about his person for any belongings. He had none and I wondered if he’d had everything confiscated at customs. “What’s your tally, dude?” He asked between chews.

  “So far, zero.”

  His face remained expressionless and for a second I wondered if he’d even understood me.

  “I got one,” he grinned, “right before I came here.” His way of holding my gaze made me uncomfortable. It was all in the unflinching, unblinking eyes that pierced through you. “Grabbed it by the throat and stuck a stick through the eye.”

  “Can I see?” It would, after all, be my first glimpse of a real zed.

  “Can’t remember where I left her,” he said most offhandedly, which was odd because I’d always assumed your first kill would be something you’d never forget.

  But now I felt quite uncomfortable and for the first time regretted making the trip. Now I really did feel guilty for betraying Paul.

  I dropped the bag on the earth, the same bag I’d spent weeks modifying to my own specifications. “Here you go, Javvo. That’s my zed fighting hardware right there.” I stepped back.

  “You mean, you’re not coming to town to dispatch some zed? How pathetic are you, dude?” His expression never left mine, not even to look at the hardware.

  “I have things to do. Besides, they’re almost certain to reach Bristol soon enough. I’ll see some action, for sure.”

  He spat another stream of tobacco juice into the leaves. “You fucking kidding me, dude? I’ve just flown here from the States. You really gonna bail on me? What kind of a friend are you?”

  What could I say? I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my brother. But he had me by the balls. To be totally honest, I think I was more scared of Javvo than I was of zed. Perhaps I could just take down a few zeds and then head home. I’d come all this way, after all.

  Yes, I was sure that would be fine.

  Seven

  The St. Albans’ streets were empty of all people, but we did see many staring down at us from windows. They clung to curtains and on spotting us, some even closed shutters like we were in some old Wild West movie. The road to town had been easy, empty of zed and law enforcement alike. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to the news so I knew just where the police and army were. I guess I was just more interested in zed than everyone else.

  I gave Javvo one of my gauntlets and kept the other. We each took one of the modified hedge shears. His fingers were too long and thin for the specially shaped handles, but he was still impressed with the weapon and craftsmanship.

  I was ready to go to war - We just needed a few of those rotten, stinking zeds to arrive. I decided I’d stick the blade into just a few of them and then I would make my excuses and return home. I was also tempted to take a few long distance shots with my eagle sniper. I suppose when it came down to it, I’d also deeply love to experience a close up view of a dead zed. But once I’d achieved all those dreams, then that was it for me. I may have made a pledge to Javvo, but I made a far more important promise to Paul. It was the latter who was far more important to me. I just hoped Javvo could be trusted to watch my back and not place me in any unnecessary danger.

  Then I saw it. My first zed stood hunched outside a coffee shop. It looked middle aged. Its foot was turned inward to some obscene angle. No wonder they couldn’t walk very well. It gazed through the window as if it knew somebody would eventually appear. I wondered why, out of all the shops on the street, he chose that particular one to stare through, without quite knowing why. Maybe he worked there in his former existence, serving coffee to people as they walked to work? Perhaps it was his favourite haunt where he’d while away the hours reading his newspaper. Or maybe it was that special place he’d take his partner or children for a drink. It made no difference to me, I’d kill him all the same.

  “I’ll take this one.” I told Javvo as I approached the coffee shop window. I wanted to see its eyes so I could feel the full experience and savour my first kill. I also knew the eye ball was the weak spot and fast track straight to the brain.

  “Hey, ugly?” I called over to him.

  He twisted around as his spine cracked, his feet staying rooted to the spot and I wondered how far it was possible to twist without snapping connective tissue or bone. There was no doubt about it, this was a zombie. It was all I’d ever hoped for in life.

  He stared, not at me, but through me. His eyes had a green tint to them, his pupils remained small and unfocused. There was no life or soul in those eyes. His skin wasn’t as green and decayed as I’d hoped, but it did have a flaky texture to it. The smell reminded me of the compost heap we were encouraged to build in playschool. I took a deep breath, inhaling the stink, savouring the moment I’d remember forever.

  I plunged the blade in its eye.

  It made the satisfying sound of squelching pulp in your hands. I twisted the blade free, pressing with my foot against his crotch and he fell to the ground.

  It was all over too quick and I wanted more.

  Screams…

  People had seen the drama from their lookout points above. I scanned down the row of shops. They each had flats above them where I knew people would be cowering from the terror below.

  Then around the corner, by the clock tower, they came.

  At first I only saw three. Then more staggered around the corner. After a brief gap, they continued to trickle in our direction and as more and more came, they appeared to be more and more covered in blood. I assumed this pack had been feeding on people, who knew how many. And that those closest to us, had missed the meal.

  “We have to leave now, Javvo!”

  “Fuck no, dude. This is what I came for.” He was psychotic alright. And I knew because I was one myself. He may have a death wish, but I didn’t.

  I thought about leaving him to deal with zed by himself and I did turn in preparation before the run.

  But, I just couldn’t do it. Like it or not, I was a zombie maniac too and this was all I’d ever wanted. Who else would fight the zombie hordes if not myself and this lunatic I’d been lumbered with? “Pass me my eagle sniper, Javvo.”

  He unslung the bag, threw it to the floor and I retrieved the slingshot.

  It was heavy, powerful and deadly and I’d embedded many stones in tree trunks from thirty paces. Stones were unpredictable however, rarely round and could veer off course, which was why I brought marbles for this zed apocalypse.

  I loaded a marble in the sling. It was heavy and most likely deadly. The targets were moving and although I’d shot at rabbits in the forest, my nerve had been steady at that time. This was a matter of life and death.

  “Are you gonna stop contemplating and fire that fucking thing?” Javvo demanded.

  I pulled back the strap, the tension powerful. I aimed for the lead zed, a smart looking man in a suit and tie.

  I released the shot.

  I saw the marble trajectory for only a fraction of a second. But I heard the distinct crack of bone as the zed’s nose shattered into a hundred pieces. Fragments crumbled through the nostrils and landed, bloody on the floor. Its nose no longer had any bone structure, the skin hung limp on its face. It stopped moving, then collapsed backwards in a heap. Another zed took its place, almost tripping over the corpse of its friend.

  “Not bad…Fucking slow though.” Javvo was right about that. But as long as we could retreat and fire as we did, then we could maintain the killing pace indefinite
ly.

  “Let’s just pace this thing alright. We’re slightly outnumbered here.” There were probably twelve in total. I wanted to go in again with my blade but I knew that at this stage, the numbers were too overwhelming.

  “Fuck this!” Javvo approached the horde.

  What was he doing? What a maniac!

  I fired off another marble. It missed the target, but embedded itself in the neck of a zed to its side, orange matter flying in a mini explosion of flesh.

  Javvo grabbed the nearest zed by the hair and stuck his blade through its eye. He ripped the blade free while spitting tobacco juice over its face as it dropped, limp to the floor.

  He howled in mad ecstasy. His blade went upwards, through the throat and into the face cavity of the next zed. He had to pull hard to yank it free.

  To me, he appeared drunk on death. I watched as zeds encircled him. One zed in particular made a concerted effort grabbing onto his long, greasy hair – Something which it struggled to keep a hold of.

  I knew I’d have to bite the bullet and go in. A single, solitary zed continued in my direction, while the rest attempted to pin down Javvo. I slashed the blade across its neck, severing arteries. A large flap of skin clung to the blade as I slashed again. Its head hung off to the side, attached only by the spinal column. It still moved. I kicked its legs out from beneath and it landed on its back. I brought my boot down hard on its skull, then again and I was satisfied it would move no longer.

  In a sick sort of way, I was having the same amount of fun I knew I would. If Javvo were to remain disciplined, we could slaughter a whole load of zeds.

  “Help! Dude, help!” Javvo’s arms were being pulled by two different zeds. Only his left arm had full gauntlet coverage. He was struggling to keep both those arms from the mouths of his assailants.

  I ran for the zed that had a hold of Javvo’s unprotected arm, grabbing it by the hair and inserted my blade through the eye. It dropped to the ground.

  We were slowly taking them out, one by one and I knew we could do this. I relaxed for the first time since the horde arrived.

  Then teeth sank into my ankle.

  It was the same zed I thought I’d taken care of earlier, with the smart suit, tie and shattered nose. In the confusion, I’d made the terrible schoolboy error of not ensuring my target was dead before moving on to the next kill. I knew that error would cost me my life, unless I acted quickly.

  I fell to the ground, needing all my grit to save from screaming out in agony, grabbing the zeds head with my hands, smashing it repeatedly against the concrete.

  “Javvo, my bag, get me my bag!” It was only a few steps from where I sprawled. I knew I couldn’t stand, the pain was searing, like my ankle had acid poured over it.

  Javvo tore gaping holes in the face of the zed that had held onto him. For the first time, I felt repulsed by the quantity of flesh and blood that had been thrashing around. He kicked the final zed to the floor where it fell across two others.

  “So – You gonna tell me just who the fuck you are, dude?”

  What was he talking about? There was no time for messing about. I needed my amputation kit. What’s more, I needed this freak to perform the work. “Javvo, what are you talking about? Please, bring me my bag!”

  One of the zeds stirred, it was underneath another corpse and it struggled, trying to pull itself toward Javvo. He leapt in the air, bringing his foot down and squashing its face into the ground. “You’re a dead man now, dude!” He spat tobacco juice, a long brown stream that landed too close to me. “You know the zombie maniac code.”

  We devised the code from the experience hundreds of zed films had brought us. If you’re bit, you’re dead! It had to be done.

  “What are you going to do, Javvo?”

  “I think you know.” He stood over me, with my own hedge shear poised to strike.

  I felt the biggest injustice was the fact I never even wanted to come on this trip. It had been a stupid idea that would get me killed. I didn’t want to die, not like this, in this way, in this time. There were people, past and present who I owed to stay alive.

  “Javvo, if you’re quick, I can still survive! I need you to cut off my leg!” I was sure I’d told him all about the amputation kit. Why was he stalling? “Javvo, remember Hershel in The Walking Dead…It can be done, but you must be quick.”

  He just stood there, slowly shaking his head, grinning. “Because I enjoy killing zeds so much, I think I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to leave and then called back over his shoulder. “But make no mistake, when you turn, I’ll twist this through your eye.” He brandished the blade at me before sauntering off in the direction of the clock tower.

  I had to be quick. I pulled myself along with my arms, toward the bag. The blazing pain had progressed to my knee. I had no idea if it was already too late.

  I tipped the bag upside down. The contents scattered across the floor. I grabbed the tourniquet, threaded my foot through the loop and pulled it up just above my knee cap. It was tightened by twisting the stick round the opposing loop. I turned it several times until I gradually felt it compressing my leg. I turned it again and I really began to feel the constriction. After a few more twists, my foot numbed and I knew the blood flow had been stopped.

  What I was about to do would be painful and I considered using the tranquillisers. But I needed to be fully alert for this and not half asleep, not that I thought falling asleep would be possible whilst sawing through my own leg.

  I grasped the bone saw. I needed to keep a tight hold on the tourniquet to prevent it unravelling, so I held onto it with my left hand. My right arm felt heavy under the weight of the chilling separator.

  It was quiet. If not for the dozen deceased zeds in my close proximity along with the prospect of what was to come for me, this could have been a lovely day.

  I gaped at my leg and heaved. Could I really go through with this?

  I had to!

  I lined up the saw, just below the knee cap. I brought my head closer to my left gauntlet covered hand and thrust it in my mouth.

  I pressed the saw down hard against my leg. I braced myself. I took a deep breath.

  I wrenched my arm back with all my strength as my teeth dug into my hand.

  It was the sight of it that hurt the most and the sound and the churning in my stomach.

  The shin bone had been cut to the marrow. Blood merely dripped over the floor. I’d done an adequate job with constricting the flow. But I had no idea yet if I’d even severed an artery, I was no anatomist.

  My whole body quivered.

  I lined the saw up again and wrenched it home.

  I felt some suction on the blade, which I assumed to be blood and tissue, which made the slicing harder. I continued with sawing motions; to and fro, to and fro, to and fro.

  The grating was high pitched, disturbing, brutal.

  I felt an ease in tension once I made it through the bone.

  I knew there’d be teeth marks in my hand too.

  Finally I managed to cut through the muscle tissue and flesh and my former leg landed on the ground with a plop.

  I would be sick any second.

  I stuck my fingers deep down my throat and the green bile splattered across the floor to mix with my blood.

  I wanted to collapse and die.

  Would I survive?

  Eight

  He awoke in his chair. Sweat pricked his forehead.

  He knew something bad had happened. He screamed. All he could do was scream. He banged his head against the wheelchair’s headrest.

  Two nurses ran to him. “Call his brother, Paul. We need him here.”

  The news blared from across the room. “Zombies have penetrated deep into the country. They are now as far north as Sheffield. Bristol is expected to be hit within the hour. We advise all people to stay indoors.”

  “Stay calm, Gareth, we’ll be evacuating soon. Let’s get your slippers on.”

  1

  November 5th 18
72

  The disease has changed New York quite remarkably and in such a short period of time it’s difficult for one to comprehend. Not only New York, but Chicago, Boston, Toronto and Philadelphia have also been afflicted to the extent they’ve been caught completely off guard. And not just the major cities, but there’s barely been a town, village, hamlet, field or stable left unravaged by the disease.

  The whole country lives in stark contrast to how it was the last time I was home. If there was ever an event which highlighted our reliance on the horse, then this is it. The press have named it The Great Epizootic. Ninety five percent of all horses have been stricken which renders them dead, or at the very least crippled and unable to even carry a rider.

  Life has changed here. Total suspension of travel has been forced upon the people lest they take to the streets and walk using the feet God gave them. Trains lay still on their lines as no coal can be delivered to power their engines, fire engines are being pulled by humans, making being caught in a fire a certain death sentence, transport coaches are a thing of a gone by era. Even the cavalry have taken to fighting the Apaches on foot, who have likewise taken to fighting the 6th Cavalry Regiment in similar fashion.

  On a personal level, sustenance has proven difficult locating unless one is willing to pay extortionate sums to obtain it. Food is running out and the situation is becoming especially dire in the larger cities. For the moment I’m managing, for my past frugality is paying off well. Whilst I make a reasonable sum as First Mate, I had hoped to use my saved funds to further my career and obtain a mortgage on that delightful property in Montana. The sooner we set sail the better it shall be.

  Only, we’ve been awaiting delivery of our cargo for days. And so while we wait, I sit, I eat and I dwindle away my resources. Not only that but Captain Briggs is supposedly stranded on the other side of the city with no way of making it to port.