Ruin

by G G Garcia

  Tony gulped hard and it felt like he had just swallowed a large pebble. He was dehydrated and he needed a drink of water.

  The steps stopped and this made the heartbeat of Tony scamper furiously. Why had he stopped? Had he spotted something? Was he trying to look inside the car? Looking in another direction?

  The sound of the crunching gravel could be heard again and this time, to everyone’s relief, it sounded like he was leaving.

  Craig could see Demi getting up and placed his hand on her shoulder, shaking his head, telling her to give it a bit more time in case she was seen. She only gave it a few seconds and spotted the back of the man, shoulders slouched, and trudging away from the car park.

  “He’s normal,” said Demi, reaching for the door handle.

  “How can you tell?” Craig had now sat up and gazed in the direction. “You can’t even see his face.”

  “Well, the face of the one that attacked Emma was normal, human, just a bit manic.”

  “They are human,” Tony sighed.

  “Poor guy,” Demi said. “He might be on his own, in a similar situation to us. He looks smartly dressed, so maybe he was at a pub or a party.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck to him,” said Craig.

  Demi turned to Tony. “Tony, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” Tony Willetts was now sat up in the driver’s seat and gazed at the back of the man, who was seconds away from disappearing around the corner of the pub and leaving the car park.

  “He certainly looks okay ... from the back.” Tony grabbed the tyre iron and said, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  Tony thought for a minute. Fuck it. He stepped out of the vehicle and shut the door, ignoring the protests from Craig, and knew that the man could be in the same position as Paul: On foot and alone.

  Tony released a sharp whistle and the man turned around and glared at the twenty-four-year-old. Neither one spoke or moved. There were thirty-yards distance between the pair of them, and Tony gulped and decided to call over to the man.

  “Hey,” he began, “I’m not sure if you know what’s going on, but my friends and I...”

  He stopped as soon as the male ran towards him, highlighting to Willetts that the male was infected.

  Tony ran away and knew going back to the car would put his friends in unnecessary danger, so he selflessly jumped over the fence of the beer garden and was now on the bank of the river. He took a couple of steps back until he was at the water’s edge and waited for the man, creature ... whatever it was, to approach him.

  It went by the car and Tony raised the metal, his hands shaking with fright, ready to pummel the thing to death. He had already killed one with Paul’s car, and it still hadn’t sunk in fully that he had taken a life. The pursuer reached the fence and suddenly stopped running. Apart from his obvious bloodshot eyes, it looked like a normal person. It was breathing, its skin colour looked healthy enough, but its eyes were a deep red colour.

  It snarled at Tony, and then jumped the fence, making Tony gulp, and then ran at the frightened young man at full pelt. Ready to strike, Tony pulled the tyre iron back, but changed his mind at the last second. He quickly dove to his left and turned and watched as the man fell off the bank and into the river. He gazed at the man in the river and could see that he had no idea how to swim.

  Tony wasn’t sure if the man, before he was infected, didn’t know how to swim, or the infection had made him lose some of his motor skills. Tony stood up and brushed himself down, watching the attacker struggle in the river and slowly being taken downstream.

  Demi and Craig stepped out of the car and went over to Tony, but remained behind the fence. The man in the river stopped struggling and was now motionless. All three watched as he was swept away, until he disappeared from sight and was pulled under the water.

  “Is it ... dead?” Demi asked.

  Tony remained staring at the river and nodded his head. “It certainly appears so.”

  “What could have caused it to be like that?” Craig’s query wasn’t something he directly asked Tony. It was a question he said aloud, not expecting an answer from either Demi Mason or Tony Willetts.

  “Well, whatever it is, these things are definitely not zombies,” said Tony.

  “What makes you so sure?” Demi asked.

  “Like the one that attacked Emma, it was breathing. Also, his face was a healthy colour. These things are alive, still have a heartbeat, have blood running through their veins, and...”

  “And?” Demi huffed with impatience.

  “And zombies don’t drown.”

  Tony’s ears pricked up and could hear a tinkling sound coming from the car. He climbed over the fence and jogged over to the vehicle and could see his phone. Paul was calling him. Demi and Craig remained where they were as Paul and Tony had a short conversation. Tony then hung up and had a smile on his face.

  “Who was it?” Craig called over.

  “Paul.” Tony smiled. “He’s alright. He’s at a house, just over the bridge.”

  “Shall we meet him?”

  “Too dangerous?” Tony shook his head.

  “We should stay where we are until things die down.” He then said to Craig and Demi, “Come on. I think we should try the pub.”

  Demi turned around and gasped. The main door to the pub had been opened, and a large man holding a knife could be seen.

  *

  The large man could hear sounds from outside and went over to where the noises were coming from. He left his kitchen, walked across his landing, and entered the spare bedroom. He looked out of the window and could see the car park. He was looking at the back of his pub and could see his jeep still there, but another vehicle was present.

  “What the…?”

  He continued to look out and saw three people conversing with one another.

  “Helen!” the man called. “Come and see this shit.”

  “What is it?” His wife entered the bedroom and gasped, before she reached the window, thinking the worst. “It’s not them, is it?”

  “No. It’s some young folk.”

  Helen Jameson stood next to her husband and peered out. She could see the three youngsters and told her husband to invite them in.

  “No shittin’ way.” He looked at his wife as if she had lost her mind.

  “Imagine that was our son out there.”

  “They don’t look like they’re in distress,” John Jameson said. “They seem quite relaxed. Maybe they’re just stopping for a breather.”

  “That car they’ve got is covered in dents.” Helen folded her arms and gave John a disapproving look. “Where’s your Christian spirit?”

  “I’m not a Christian.”

  John continued to gaze out, but it was difficult to ignore his wife’s glare.

  He released a moan and said, “Alright, alright. I’ll go down and see them.”

  He walked away from his wife and out of the bedroom. John Jameson grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and went downstairs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After failing to persuade Paul Newbold to stay, Melvin had given up and wished the young man luck. He closed his front door as Paul hesitantly stepped outside. It was around six in the morning, and Paul should have been exhausted, but as soon as his feet hit the tarmac of Wolseley Road, and the realisation that he was on his own, the adrenaline coursed through his veins.

  Behind him, the long country road led to Little and Great Haywood, but he was heading the opposite way, heading for the hump bridge. He clasped the knife with his sweaty hand and gulped as he reached the peak of the bridge. He leaned over and looked down on the river. He then looked over to the pub. The car park was behind it and Tony had told Paul over the phone, during their short conversation, that that’s where they had parked the Corsa. It was a few hundred yards away. That’s all.

  Smothered in paranoia, Paul kept on twisting his head as he reached the other side of the bridge. He was just a matter of yards from the pub, which w
as to the right of him, and made slow steps. He swapped the knife from hand to hand, and was now at the double mini roundabout. He could see the front of the pub, but knew the main entrance was at the back, and to his left he could see the entrance to the garden centre’s car park.

  A shiver travelled down his spinal column and a surge of adrenaline, which was a mixture of nervousness and excitement, continued to rush through his frame.

  He went over the two mini roundabouts and was at the point where Stafford Road and Rugeley Road met. Turning right would lead him into Stafford after a six to eight mile journey. Turning left, after two miles, would take him to Rugeley Town. He made a few more steps and then halted as he heard the sound of feet. He had no idea what to do. He was out in the open and he froze with fright.

  Two figures came around the bend on the Stafford Road and snarled as soon as their eyes clocked Paul’s frame.

  “Shit.”

  He knew straightaway what they were.

  Paul ran as fast as he could, heading left, away from the pub. He didn’t want to create unnecessary danger for his pals and whoever owned the establishment, which was the reason why he chose to run away from the pub. Paul turned a sharp left and entered the almost empty car park of the garden centre.

  Paul took a look over his shoulder and could see the two infected individuals entering the car park as he approached the sliding doors. Once he realised that the doors were locked, Paul began to panic and disappeared around the back of the building and tried the side door. He then could hear the feet getting closer as the savage things also ran around the perimeter.

  He looked all around him, but there was nowhere for him to go but through a field that was situated behind the garden centre. He crouched down and tried to think, but the panic was clouding his thoughts. He had no idea what to do.

  Paul took in a deep breath and waited for them to turn up. He had no choice. He didn’t have the energy to run from these things. They appeared and stopped as soon as they clocked Paul, almost hesitant. One was male and the other female, both dressed in casual clothes, but they gnashed their teeth, biting thin air, as if they were possessed, and their eyes were bloodshot.

  Despite their initial hesitancy and the fact that Paul was holding a knife, the pair of them ran at the frightened young man and both tried to grab him and pull him to the floor. Paul released a frightened yelp. The male grabbed Paul by the throat, whilst the female grabbed his hair. All three fell, and with the vision of Emma being attacked earlier, Paul began to swipe at their faces with the knife. He didn’t want to die, and he certainly didn’t want to go the same way Emma did.

  He managed to push the female away, making her fall over, and began stabbing at the male’s head. The infected male eventually fell to the floor and never got back up, and then Paul took a step back and watched as the female was trying to get to her feet. He ran at her and kicked her head like a football, and then did it again once she was flat on the ground. Both bodies weren’t moving and Paul bent over to catch his breath. He panted hard and it felt like his lungs were on fire. He eventually stood up straight, his breathing slowly getting back to normal, and looked at the carnage he had created.

  He looked at the steel of the steak knife and crouched down to wipe the blade on the clothes of the dead male, blood pooling around his injured head.

  Paul then stood up, looked at the two bodies, and then threw up.

  The short walk to the pub had turned into a disaster, and from the back of the centre he could see Melvin and Lisa’s fence. Over the fence was their back garden, and he decided to head back.

  He trudged through the long grass to make the short journey to the fence, Melvin’s back garden fence. He kept his head down, making sure there were no nasty surprises hiding in the long grass, and was soon by the fence. He peered over and then looked behind him. All he could see was fields and the back of the garden centre.

  With the knife in his pocket, he climbed the fence, making sure he didn’t stab himself in the thigh, and was over the other side and in Melvin’s garden within seconds. He casually walked to the back door and knocked it, knowing that the noise was going to scare the couple.

  He could see Melvin approaching the frosted glass of the door and Paul announced that it was him, forcing Melvin to laugh and said from behind the door, “Changed your mind?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” Paul responded.

  Melvin tried the door but it appeared to be locked. “Give me a minute. I need to get the key.” He left the area and with his adrenaline waning, Paul could feel a slight stinging sensation coming from his left hand. “Shit.”

  It was small. There wasn’t much blood, and it didn’t even look that deep.

  Paul Newbold had been bitten.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Demi, Tony and Craig were told quickly to get inside the pub by the landlord, they presumed. Once they were in, the big fellow locked the thick oak door and then slid a metal bolt across. The guy introduced himself as John, but told them that most people called him JJ, and told the three to follow him upstairs. He told them that the place was secure, but he, his wife, and his son lived upstairs, and that’s where they were staying until the incident fizzled out.

  Before they went upstairs, Demi asked John Jameson, “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Only from what I’ve been told by the television,” he remarked. “Which isn’t a shittin’ lot, I can tell you.”

  Craig said, “This is the first time we’ve been indoors for hours.”

  “Been out all this time, have you?”

  “Mostly.” Craig nodded.

  Tony explained that they were travelling back from Stafford and had to stop. He then continued to tell JJ that their friend, although Craig and Tony didn’t really know Emma, had been attacked and partially eaten.

  “Shit, man.” JJ sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  All had reached the top of the landing, and with JJ leading the way they entered the living room. Tony, Craig and Demi could see a woman in her late forties. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a black Nike T-shirt and grey jogging bottoms. There was also a teenager sitting on the couch. The TV was on, the news broadcasting horrors that were sweeping the land. They all wondered why they were up so early and, as if JJ could read their minds, he explained.

  He said, “I get up early every morning.” He then urged his three guests to sit down. They did, and he continued, “As soon as I put the TV on I was in shock. I thought it was a film at first. I woke up my wife and son, to prove I wasn’t dreaming, and it appears that I’m not.”

  John remained on his feet, as if he was giving a lecture to his audience of five, and went over to the window to peer out. The TV was on low and it appeared that it was just the West Midlands that had been affected so far. No reports of attacks had come from the south of England, Wales, the north of England, and Scotland. Of course, it was early days yet.

  “I saw a few of those shits going by the pub,” JJ said, whilst still peering out. “At least, I think it was them. It’s hard to tell. I watched you guys for a while from the bedroom window. I’m not gonna lie to you, I didn’t want to let you in, but the wife insisted.” He turned to his wife and said. “I wonder how old David Billingham is doing.”

  “Don’t worry about him," Helen huffed. “He’ll be fine.”

  “He’s seventy-six, Helen. And what about Greg Hermes? He and his wife have got two little kiddies.”

  Helen shushed her husband and remained gazing at the TV and hardly acknowledged her new ‘guests’. She turned to her husband and said, “John. You need to see this.”

  All turned to the TV and Helen Jameson turned up the volume a notch. The six people in the pub’s living room stared in silence and could see some new footage.

  Three of the infected were filmed taking down a dog walker. The female and her Alsatian were ripped to shreds, and then it was announced that some sections of the army were being dep
loyed in certain areas like Solihull and Coventry. This baffled every one in the room and John gazed over at Tony, who shrugged his shoulders.

  Why wasn’t this happening in London, Cornwall, Stirling or Rhyl? Why just the middle of England? Did the outbreak occur in the West Midlands and just hadn’t spread yet? And why were sections of the army being stationed in Solihull, Coventry and now in Nottingham?

  What the fuck was going on?

  “They’re trying to contain the problem,” JJ said with confidence, and looked over to his son.

  “What do you mean, dad?” This was the first time Craig, Tony and Demi had heard the teenager speak. He looked no older than fourteen. He wore black combats, boots, and was wearing a black ‘Bleach’ Nirvana T-shirt. He had green eyes and had short light brown hair.

  “Whatever this thing is, whether it’s waterborne or airborne, it seems to be a West Midlands problem at the moment.”

  “And they’re trying to keep it a West Midlands problem,” said Tony with a nod.

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paul Newbold smiled as Melvin finally opened the door.

  “Did you change your mind?” laughed Melvin, not realising that he had already asked Paul that question when the twenty-four-year-old first knocked on the door.

  Paul nodded and smiled, and decided not to remind Melvin that that was the second time he had asked that.

  Paul stepped inside and Melvin shut and locked the door behind him.

  “It’s too dangerous out there,” said Paul, as the pair of them entered the living room where Melvin’s wife sat in the armchair. Her arms were folded and she gave Paul a hard stare as he returned. It was as if she was annoyed that he had come back.

  “Much trouble?” Melvin asked him, as they both sat on the couch.

  “I had to kill a couple of them.”

  “Shit.” Melvin placed his hands on his head and looked over to his wife with wide eyes. “That’s heavy shit. Is that the first time you’ve done that?”