World Down: A Zombie Novel

by Walker, Callum Bennington Goldworth

  “Alright, on the truck, let's move!” He ordered.

  We all packed into the truck like animals to the slaughterhouse. The Heartlands was a hotspot for the virus. Hospitals were crazy, they would be right? Illness spreads from these places. Death stalks their corridors, worse than graveyards. I hated them, they were a nightmare of mine. More people die in a hospital than in any other place in the world. That fact made me uneasy, but I was a member of the king’s division. This war against this virus, and it was a war, the prime minister had said so. It had only just begun, but we would win, for we were British, we were the sons and daughters of the greatest nation in the world. Nothing could stop us from defending our country, our home.

  “You know I still can't get over that guy,” said Mason as we bumped and meandered across a green roundabout.

  “Some people just can't speak it mate,” offered Jacob.

  “Bullshit,” he replied.

  “My grandmother can't speak English. My grandfather couldn't either,” Hussain told them.

  “And how long they lived here?” Mason asked him.

  “30 years,” my friend answered, as Mason whistled sarcastically.

  “30 years. And they never bothered to learn the language of the land they live in. Sounds like B.S.”

  “Just leave it alone. Blake,” Maddison called to me. She wanted me to say something.

  “Just leave it be,” I told her.

  All inside the truck fell silent as we passed an abandoned fruit marketplace. Its stores were bare, with nothing but cotton mask wearing members of the public picking rotten and dirty apples and oranges from the bloody stone floor.

  “What the hell do you think this thing is then?” Asked Maddison.

  “Said it was a virus didn't they?” Jacob weighed in.

  “No. No. This is an attack,” insisted Mason, letting his conspiracies run wild.

  “Nice one. Fucking genius over here,” belated Hussain.

  “No. Terrorist,” said Mason. Numerous snarls and groans were heard from inside the infantry truck.

  “Shut up. What is wrong with you?” I asked him.

  Mason grew angry. “You know what? I am tired of people telling me to shut up. I have a fucking voice. You might not like it but you have to hear it!” He shouted.

  I raised my hands. “Go on then.”

  “You look out there,” he pointed to the blue sky above. “It's co-ordinated. Terrorists. Man, I'm certain they're at it again.”

  “That's all you got?” Asked Hussain.

  “Shut up bitch boy. It's not terrorists,” Jacob scolded him.

  “Stop being an ass Mason. There's no for it,” I said aloud.

  “Just look outside,” Mason said, just as we passed a convoy of cars, their drivers wearing black masks. The last pickup truck contained two wounded souls, and a child watching over them with her own mask on, crying for them in vain.

  “People are dying, doesn't that get your blood boiling, our people that are dying. We should be out there dropping these pricks. Or whoever's behind it.”

  “Dropping who?” I asked in curiosity.

  “What are you insinuating?” Hussain raised his voice. “Brown people, huh.”

  “I never fucking said that. Don't put words in my fucking mouth,” Mason reacted angrily.

  “Why don't you stop being so intolerant. Asshole,” Maddison attacked him.

  “What is so intolerant about what I'm saying. For all we know it could be terrorists,” he reasoned. He then looked to his muddy boots and then back up at us. “You know what, I'm actually gonna stop pretending, I don't even know what intolerance means.”

  “I figured. Dumbass,” Hussain spoke with a crooked smile.

  “You want to say that to my face. Hussain?”

  “Yeah you bet I will say it to your face.”

  “Will you two stop your bitch fighting yet?” Jacob spoke, flawlessly at that.

  They both looked at him, then at each other, as the truck came to a churning stop. I rose up from my seat and grabbed my rifle and backpack.

  “We're here,” Thomas shouted, dismounting the jeep.

  “Camp,” he said, as my eyes fell on the haunted hospital. The broken state of the road, and the festering smell of death about the sight of the great building. The hovering of putrid air grew thicker the closer we came to the checkpoint guarding the way inside the car park. Now filled with ownerless vehicles.

  Thomas went to receive orders from the higher ups. We went to fetch food and supplies from the camps. There was a mass gathering of the public demanding to be let in.

  “This is for the sick only! Stand back!” Shouted the guards on the road. Thomas came back after a five-minute discussion with the lieutenant.

  “The situation is escalating,” he told us. “Need you to clear a perimeter around the area. They’re setting up roadblocks on the streets heading into the complex. The street of Nightingale Road. We’re to relieve the officers patrolling there.”

  “Yes sir,” said James.

  “Let's move.”

  “Can’t take the truck,” James informed us. “It's being repurposed for logistics.”

  We took the rovers instead. It was a tight squeeze, four of us in one rover, but we managed. It was me, Hussain, Jake and Thomas. In the Princess rover, James, Mason, Jacob and Maddison huddled close.

  There were many people on the roads near the hospital, it was immensely congested. I was sure I heard gunfire at one of the checkpoints. I hoped in my prayers that no one was hurt, but I knew in my heart that it was foolish to pray.

  When we arrived to the street, a few minutes later, we found three shaken soldiers manning a shoddy roadblock made of abandoned cars and barriers. Thomas told them to report back to the hospital, but I swear I saw them take the wrong turn back. They were heading out the city, to farms and villages on the outskirts.

  The eight of us holed up in our jeeps, guns facing the road. We were on our guard for anything and everything. Mason sprung out into a glorious rendition of God Save The King, raising spirits albeit momentarily. A good few cars came through, we turned every one of them away. Some needed medical help, most just wanted to pass through.

  Everything was fine until a blue mini came through. Thomas went out to tell them there was no access, but as I expected him to turn and them to reverse, he ran back to us, concern on his aghast on his face.

  “We need to let them though, and they need an escort,” he said.

  “What?” I raised my voice in disagreement.

  “How much they offer you?” Joked Mason from atop his jeep. He was crouching, holding a cigarette in his right hand, a rifle in his left.

  Thomas looked up sternly to him. “Jacob, come quickly,” he then called to the private. “Accompany them to the hospital”

  He took him aside and gave him strict instructions. I was curious as to why was he allowing these people through, knowing we’d turned everyone else away.

  I glanced to the front window of the car and found the driver in good health. I then stepped closer, and gazed into the back seat. To my horror, a young girl peered through the glass to me, her eyes red and pulsating, skin pale like the moon but decayed like an overripe banana, black spots had formed on her neck and cheeks, all the while she gasped for air. Next to her was another girl, identical to her, holding her and keeping what must have been her sister calm. She looked to be unaffected. The man holding the steering wheel twitched his eyes from me to the blocked road ahead. Counting the guns and calculating the possibility of ramming through. Such must have been the desperation of his situation.

  “Have you seen this girl?” I shouted back to the squad.

  “No, why?” Asked Jake.

  “This girl in the back seat is infected with something,” I told them.

  “Why are we letting them in Thomo?” Shouted Mason in protest.

  “Stand down Mason!” James ordered. Thomas and Jacob exchanged words for a minute, then the corporal called them forth an
d gestured for the car.

  “Alright, let them through,” he spoke.

  “This isn’t right,” muttered Mason as they passed by. Jacob led them in the Princess.

  Mason was lying down now, tanning on the job like he was on the beach.

  “Are you getting a nice tan there, Hasselhoff?” James irked him.

  “Just waiting for Jacob to come back, remember, I’m not here for the king or for my duty, I'm here so I don't get fined for not showing up,” he told him.

  “What was that bullshit about our people dying and going out there and killing those responsible then?” I shouted over to him.

  He groaned in annoyance. “Adrenaline,” he then nonchalantly answered.

  Jacob came back to us around ten minutes later, and not with a jolly look on his face.

  “Jacob,” I said as he braked the jeep and stepped out. He just absently glared at me and my gun, before walking over to the small roadblock.

  “What you seen, Jake 2.0?” Mason asked. A running joke of his being that Jake and Jacob were similar names.

  “Blake,” he turned to me. “When they pulled her out of the car, she just exploded, her head, her mouth it just blew up, I was far away enough so that I didn't get any of it on me, but…”

  He looked to the ground. “Got to be, twenty or so doctors, soldiers and civilians with it now,” he said.

  “They were all infected?” I asked.

  “What's wrong? Jacob?” Maddison called. “That family we let through caused a big storm at the hospital,” I said, not repeating the details, but my friend looked to Thomas.

  “Thomas!” Jacob then strode forward calling his name in anger. “I just got a bollocking off command, they said our orders were to turn away civilians, not bring them in!”

  Thom stood his ground. “The order was to turn away healthy people seeking shelter and to help the infected,” he responded. “Whoever is at the hospital who said that is obviously not on the same page as us!”

  “Right!” He glanced about to the shrubbery nearby.

  “Fan out, we search the fields, make sure no one’s avoiding lockdown procedures,” he then said.

  “God forbid someone disobeys the Prime Minister's warnings,” Mason said, rising from his laying position.

  “Someone at command is giving conflicting orders man, it's not right,” said Hussain dismounting the wall he sat on.

  “I know,” Thomas conceded to him.

  “I’ll lead the squad,” James informed. “Maddison stay here with Jake and Thomas, some civilians may need help. Blake, Mas, Huss and Jacob with me.”

  “Yes, boss,” Maddison growled.

  We moved out into the bushes and to the fields of grass away from the single lane road. Some houses lay close by, their gardens were adorned with the union jack.

  As we traversed the sunny fields, Mason spoke up. “I ever tell you guys about my friend?”

  “Oh yeah,” Hussain answered.

  “Yeah you know. These don't know,” he pointed to us,

  “What's that?” I asked, not that I cared as the birds ceased singing in the lifeless trees.

  “I had a friend once. Name was Greggy boy. Me and him were coming home from school…”

  My heart thumped loudly in my chest as I looked ahead. In a golden field, bereft of life, a shadow in the trees lumbered along.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Hussain inquired, interrupting Mason.

  “My god,” James whispered, as we all realised what it was. It was a corpse that was alive, a dead person still standing, moving with malice.

  “Aim for the head! Remember to aim for the head!” Shouted James. His voice was shaken as he steadied his own aim. Six rounds he shot, while Mason shot three, but it still trudged forth towards us.

  “Shit!” Called Hussain. Mason ran forward, trying to be heroic and dumb, unleashing a torrent of fire before his gun jammed.

  “The fuck is this thing!? Fuck.”

  It stumbled into a gallop and collapsed on him. I didn't have a clear sight, while Hussain had the perfect shot, but waited on it a second.

  “What! Shoot!” I blurted out, and in the same moment he blasted a hole in the creature's ghastly head. Its blood covered mouth spewed onto Masons arm that shielded his face. Then it collapsed and became still, and all was fine again.

  “What was that?” I growled angrily to Hussain, as the dust settled on the corpses bloated face.

  “I...” Spoke Hussain in confusion. Mason immediately rose to his feet in anger and marched to him.

  “What the fuck wrong with you? I could have died you fucking idiot. Why'd you do that?” He pushed him.

  “I don't know,” said Hussain.

  “You don't know???” Mason said in an accusatory tone. They just stared at each other.

  “You know what I think I do know,” Mason then said, pacing the scene of the incident. I was glad Mason was fine, if not a little shaken in his voice. Hussain exhaled in frustration.

  “What? Oh, oh ok. I'm a terrorist. Is that what you think? Do I have a bomb strapped to my chest huh!? Is that what you see. Hm!” He lifted his shirt, tyring to play the victim, but I knew what he did. He would have let that thing hurt Mason if me and the others weren’t around. James, our superior soldier, kneeled at the foot of the dead man.

  “What the fuck this?” He whispered under his breath. The fact that someone who was dead or half dead could have the strength to launch themselves onto Mason and grapple him to the ground. It was beyond belief. It was unreal. It was otherworldly.

  “Yeah whatever,” Mason recoiled his face in spite, spitting to the ground where Hussain stood at.

  “Fuck you,” Hus replied, bringing rage from Mason.

  “You know what, fuck you!” He told him, pointing and gesticulating with emphasis in his words.

  “No fuck you,” Hussain said back.

  “Go fuck yourself,” they bantered back and forth.

  “Guys!” I screamed to them. “Stop. This isn't how we behave on duty. James?” I called to the lance corporal who stared to the dead and then to me looking shaken.

  “My mom’s at the airport, I can’t imagine this happening to her,” he said to me.

  “Don't worry, it won’t,” I told him, putting a hand on his shoulder as I consoled him.

  “We clear this field, get back to base camp. Let's move. I don't want to stay here any longer than we have too,” I said.

  “Who put you in charge Blake?” Questioned Mason.

  “I did, do as he says,” James gave me authority. We made to walk on.

  “What about the body?” Hussain said.

  “I'm not dragging that thing back, let it rot,” Mason quipped like a child.

  “Have some respect and decency, that was someone’s father, brother, son,” said James.

  “Yeah,” Hussain and I agreed.

  Mason sniggered at our sentiments, and continued on. We all puffed our chests out and returned to the road after a quick scan of the rest of the fields. We explained what the gunfire was to Thomas, and that the man in the fields was infected; he attacked Mason, while Thomas informed us of a new order. An order to retreat from the suburbs of the city and go to the outskirts of the outskirts, to the International Airport and the Exhibition Centre. We left the hospital with the rest of the platoon in the evening, seeing no further action.

  When we arrived at the deserted car parks and empty halls and stages of the colossal Exhibition Centre, we were put to task setting up a makeshift hospital in Parking Lot C.

  Our orders were purely logistical. Me, Hussain and Jake were told to find the lieutenant at the bridge between the airport and the train station and ask for further orders. Inside the main stage we found a radio station. Countless engineers were busying themselves, wires and whatnot were spread about everywhere, it was hard for us not to trip on them. A short bald man eyed me out the corner of his hawk like eyes as he set down a great box of ammunition, before walking to me.

  �
��Corporal?” Asked the man with confidence. “Pte. Blake, sir,” I said to him, as if he was blind and couldn't see my stripes.

  “I'm not a corporal lieutenant,” I said to him.

  “Sergeant Morroway,” he extended his arm, then put it to his forehead, before taking me aside and out to the glass bridge. I was embarrassed now.

  “You must be someone he trusts then. Corporal Trent, is he busy?” He asked, giving me a dissatisfied, puzzled look. The lieutenant must be elsewhere then I thought. He noticed my hesitation.

  “We’re all busy sir,” I answered, right before Lieutenant Bridge arrived through the glass doors.

  “Lieutenant,” I said, as the sergeant approached him.

  “He's from Delta Squad, they're outside packing sandbags,” the sergeant said. The young lieutenant stared at me, then the tomfoolery of the others in my company, Jake and Hussain.

  “Ah Christ. Look, I get it, your new recruits, you were drafted in short notice to cover some fucking wankers who jumped ship. But look over there.” Bridge pointed to the distance, to the firestorm sunset over what looked like a dying city.

  “That's a hell of a shitstorm that I gotta manage and that right there. That's just the fucking tip,” he said pointing to a couple of filled body bags in the corner of the arena. So, I'm gonna need you guys to be up, running and shooting quicker than you're falling down, do you understand?”

  “Yes sir,” I said to him. He walked away. I looked to the skyline, to the skyscrapers in the dust ridden sky. There looked to be smoke coming from the bleak streets.

  “Go tell your corporal that tomorrow at 0500 we are on the move again,” he said turning back.

  “Understood sir,” I nodded.

  “Good, and control your men for Christ sakes,” he said, cursing under his breath as he went. I looked back and found Mason fooling around with Hussain.

  “Affirmative sir.”

  I walked back to the others and immediately ripped into them.

  “Quit messing around. The lieutenants pissed. He looks rough.”

  “Sorry Blake,” said Hussain.

  “He fucking started it,” Mason said wiping his nose. We walked back out to the train station area and glanced to the glass windows overlooking the road of army vehicles and the growing crowds of worried civilians. There were helicopters in the sky, around eight or so of them, carrying wagons of sorts to the airport in formation.