Jack pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what they were saying made sense but a part of him really hated the idea of turning anyone away when they were in need.
“That’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it,” he said, finally. “For now, our priority is making this place secure and getting food and supplies.”
“I thought it was secure,” Denis said, snidely before anyone else could speak.
“We’re secure against the infected,” Deacon replied. “But not against rats.”
“Why’s that an issue?” Chester asked. “We’ve had rats here before. Filthy things but not our biggest problem right now.”
Deacon looked across at Jack and raised one eyebrow quizzically. It seemed that he was willing to leave it up to the younger man to decide whether or not to tell anyone. Jack, feeling an ache in his temples and the back of his neck that spoke of tension, wasn’t sure what to do for the best.
Telling them could cause a panic, sure, but not telling them could leave some of them ready to ignore the threat because they didn’t realise the threat was there. Ultimately, he thought, it would be better for everyone to know.
“The rats are infected too,” he said, and immediately raised his hands to forestall the outbursts from the gathered residents. “Like the infected, they don’t seem to come out in the day, and we can block them from coming in here.”
“How?” Chester snorted. “If it was that easy we wouldn’t have needed the council out so many times.”
“We begin a search for anywhere they could get in.” Deacon looked down at the older Chester, brows drawing down with anger. “We put down bait, we use poison and we look for signs of them moving around.”
“If they’re infected, they won’t eat bait,” Chester said.
“Then we pump the dead bodies out there full of rat poison and let the little buggers eat them!”
“Enough!” Kyra snapped. “It doesn’t matter how we deal with them so long as we do! Can argue all you like but that won’t change the fact that the rats are carrying the infection and they are out there.”
“As more people get bitten, their numbers will grow,” Deacon added. “The winter will kill some of them off, but by the spring we can’t stay here.”
Jack barely held in a groan. That particular bit of information was something he would rather have dealt with at a later time. There was enough for people to worry about without that too.
“What do you mean? You saying we have to leave?” Denis asked, scowl deepening.
“Can’t expect us to grow food here,” Deacon said as he gestured at the stone walls of the flat. “When the power goes, we’ll freeze as there’s no fireplaces. We won’t be able to use the ovens without gas and then there’s water. Not many natural wells around here, is there?”
The silence in the room was telling, as the gathered representatives each sat or stood with their own thoughts turned inwards as they considered that. For many of them, they hadn’t expected the crisis to last or that things wouldn’t improve.
“Where would we go?” Darcy asked in a small voice.
“We’re a stone's throw from three national parks,” Deacon said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “Countryside all around us. We just need to get out of the city and to somewhere safe with access to water and space to grow our own food.”
“How the hell do you even grow food? We’re not farmers,” Chester said and several of the others voiced their agreement.
“I can teach you.”
“That’s a problem for the spring,” Jack said, interrupting before it could go any further. “It’s something to think about, but for now, well now we just need to survive. It’s November and you all know what that means. It’s going to get cold, wet and miserable.”
He looked around the room, seeing the faces of his neighbours and knew that he had to protect them.
“We have children here,” Jack continued with a nod towards Emmie. “They’re going to have to be kept occupied and quiet. We’re all going to suffer from being stuck indoors for a long period of time with few of the comforts we’ve grown used to.”
No showers, no nipping to the shops for food, no takeaways or movie nights. No, he realized, it was going to be a hell of an adjustment for people to make.
“There will be arguments and disagreements. I expect all of you, as representatives, to act as peacekeepers where necessary. We need to be quiet and stay unnoticed by the infected out there. But, if any do try to get in, we need to be prepared to fight.”
“I can help with that,” Deacon said.
“Aye, no doubt. One of the newcomers was a soldier too and the other was a nurse. Both of them will be a massive help to us and I expect you will treat them accordingly.”
He took another look around, noting the thoughtful expressions and allowed himself a moment’s hope that they would get through this.
“But first, we are going to need more food, medicine, blankets and anything else we can think of. In three days, that’s when we will go in search of some.”
“Who will go?” Denis asked.
“I will,” Jack said, simply. “I’ll not ask anyone to do something I won’t do myself. I’ll go and will take a small group of volunteers. I think a small group will have a chance of getting through the city in the daytime.”
“What about the other block of flats?” Kyra asked. “They’re going to be just as scared and hungry as our own people.”
It was already us and them, Jack realized sadly as he saw the others nodding in agreement. Their world had boiled down to the people in the block of flats and anyone else was ‘other’ a threat.
“A problem for later,” Jack said. “But one that I will deal with.”
He took one last look around the room and grimaced as he realized they had enough to deal with and the meeting had gone on long enough.
“I want a list of everyone on each of your floors,” he said. “Names, ages, skills and the like. Any particular allergies, medicine needs, things like that. Yeah?”
There was a quiet murmur of consent and he continued.
“Deacon will visit each floor in turn and offer advice on how to best prepare your living spaces. It’s going to get cold and unpleasant for all of us. Everyone needs to be prepared for what the next few months will bring.”
“Sounds good,” Kyra said. “Oh, one other thing though.”
She smiled widely as everyone turned to her, relishing their attention.
“What?”
“You’re gonna get bored and bored people have sex. As long as it’s consensual I don’t care what you do, but make sure you take precautions. This would be a shitty time to get pregnant, you hear me?”
Another murmured rumble of assent from the gathered people and Jack waved them away. They would go back to their floors and begin preparations. He just hoped it would be enough to keep them safe.
Something told him that it wouldn’t.
Chapter 5
The cold, November morning had a chill to the air that sent a shiver through the fleeing prisoners. Weak from lack of food and wearing only their basic prison clothing, they were not equipped for the cold wind and the frost that glittered on the road as they half-jogged through the open prison gates.
Many stopped to look around, gaping up at the silent night sky as though still unsure of what was happening. Cut off from the outside world for the past week, they’d little real idea of what was going on in the country and for some, it had been years since they had stepped foot outside those gates.
Bradley Bishop, a broad-shouldered man with the dark skin of his African grandparents, and the blue eyes of his English father, moved through the gawping crowd of confused prisoners with all the grace of a great cat on the hunt.
His dreadlocked hair was tied back, a sign to those around him that he needed it out of the way in case of impending violence. Too many noticed the casual menace in the way he held himself and re
cognized that violence was not far away.
Two of his usual crew walked along beside him, shoving and pushing the other prisoners out of the way.
“You think he was telling us the truth?” Clarke, the smaller of the two asked, raising one hand to shade his eyes from the bright glare of the headlights from the car abandoned on the road ahead.
“Fuck do I care? We’re out and I’m not hanging around.”
Clarke flinched almost instinctively before ducking his head and chuckling as though the other man had told a joke.
“Yeah, man, yeah. I feel that…. What the?”
Bradley stopped and looked back, annoyance crossing his face, “What?”
“That.”
Clarke raised one hand to point along the long road that led from the gates up towards the main road into the city. Large, squat, buildings lined the left-hand side of the road, their car park empty and windows dark.
Open ground sat to the right and it was across that frost rimmed grass that they came, running towards the crowded road. Little more than dark shadows in the shapes of people, they came and from them arose a howl that chilled the blood of those waiting men.
“What the fu-“ someone said, his voice cutting off in surprise as the first of the shadowy forms reached the milling crowd.
The infected man leapt onto the nearest prisoner, hands beating at the poor man’s head as his teeth tore at the skin of the face. The prisoner screamed, a sound that cut through the night air and was soon repeated as the bulk of the infected crashed into the crowd.
Even for those raised on violence, the glimpses of this new horror was too much. Weak from hunger and exhausted from their long confinement, they were no match for the animalistic ferocity of the infected.
A dozen men were down on the ground before the others could even react, their blood spilling out onto the worn tarmac of the road. The infected howled as they tore at the flesh of those around them, using hands and teeth to devastating effect.
The coppery scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the screams of the injured and dying. Panic swept through the crowd and those at the front began to run, but there was nowhere to go.
Buildings lined the street to the left, with no way past, while more of the infected were crossing the open grass on the right. The prison lay behind them and ahead, well, ahead was blocked by those the infected were attacking.
Bradley watched this with mounting horror as he realized there was nowhere for him to go but back into the prison, the place he hated more than anywhere else. He began to back away but stopped as one of those prisoners stopped screaming.
With blood coating the front of his shirt, streaming down from the gaping hole where his nose had been, he sat up. The infected moved past him, not even looking in his direction as though he were invisible to them.
The screams that had been issuing from him moments before became a burst of maniacal laughter that tapered off into an incoherent sound full of rage and hatred. He practically leapt to his feet, head turning this way and that as he looked for something. His eyes latched onto Bradley and with a renewed cry, he surged towards the prisoner.
Bradley didn’t hesitate for a moment, taking hold of Clarke’s arm and dragging the surprised man in front of him. The infected man hit him full on as Bradley turned and ran straight back through the prison gates and into the courtyard beyond.
He skidded to a stop as more prisoners spilt out into the night. They could hear the screams and confusion warred with their desire for freedom as many called out questions that none had the answer to.
Without bothering to answer them, Bradley began pushing through the crowd. He glanced back only long enough to see that more of the prisoners were running back towards the prison and he redoubled his efforts to get through the crowd.
A hand grabbed his arm and he jerked away, fist raised and ready to strike.
“Woah! Mate, it’s me,” Peter said, raising his hands, and leaning back away from the other man. “The hell’s going on?”
“Gotta get away, man, y’know? Go, now!”
“Get away from what?” Peter called as the other man pushed past him. Bradley didn’t look back and Peter turned to look at Trevor. “I think we should follow him.”
Trevor, his face pale with sweat beading his skin as he clutched his stomach, grimaced and took one look around the crowd before nodding. He followed as Peter led the way back and soon, others began to do the same as the screams filled the air beyond the prison gates.
Outside, the slaughter continued as some of the prisoners tried to fight back. It was little use as they were no match for the frenzied ferocity of the infected. Many died outright, food for the hungry crowd that stopped long enough to tear flesh from bone before moving on to the next victim, the urge to bite, to tear, impossible to resist.
The prisoners, having tasted all too brief freedom, turned and pushed against one another to try and get back through the gates, only to meet more of them coming as another cell block released its inmates.
Peter paused beside the admin building that sat just inside the second inner courtyard, before the gate. Those pushing back inside met those trying to leave and chaos ensued. With rising frustration, he listened to the screaming from beyond the outer gate and chewed on his lip as he thought.
“Close the gate!”
He turned to see Bradley repeat the call and he shook his head. Peter knew what was about to happen and while he had no real love for his fellow inmates, he had no desire to trap them in the outer courtyard to be attacked by whatever was out there.
“We have to let everyone in!” he called, in reply, but was ignored as those pushing to get out began to realise something was wrong. “Let them in!”
“Shut it!” Bradley snapped back, harsh voice audible even over the screams. “Close that fucking gate or we’re all dead!”
Which was all the inmates needed to hear.
Prisoners gathered behind the open gate. Thick wood banded with steel, they pushed against it as more beat at those trying to get through. Behind the surging mass of the panicked crowd, the first of the infected came through the outer gates.
Men’s screams filled the air once more as the inmates were attacked from behind. Some turned, trying to fight back but received only death or infected bites without doing much to stem the flood of the infected.
The great doors inched closed, the gap between them narrowing to just several feet as many of those trying to get in were pulled down and killed or bitten. The infected, seeming to realise that they were about to lose their prey, redoubled their efforts, clambering over the dead and dying in an effort to reach the gates.
With a crash, the gates slammed shut and the inmates pushed themselves against them in panic as they sought to keep them closed.
“How do we lock them?” someone cried.
“There!” another cried and the heavy thunk of a bolt being driven home was heard above the noise of the crowd.
Slowly, the inmates backed away from the gates. Something hit them from the other side, the solid thud of bodies hitting the wood as the infected threw themselves against them in their anger.
“What now?” Peter asked, not expecting an answer.
“Now,” Bradley said, looking around at the small crowd of inmates. “We figure out what the fucks been going on.”
“Then what?”
The burly gang leader glanced dismissively at the other man before he grinned revealing teeth stained by tobacco.
“Then we do whatever the fuck we want.”
Chapter 6
The roof of the block of flats was slick with rain as Jack peered through the binoculars at the larger building to the west of his own block of flats. There was little movement there and no lights on in any of the windows. They’d learnt their lesson the hard way.
Three days since the meeting and while people had grumbled and groaned about his instructions, that first night had been enough for them to realise they needed to do as he said
. Even nearly a hundred metres away from the other building, the residents had heard the screams.
“Nothing,” he said, not bothering to look at Deacon.
“Told you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He’d still held out some hope that there’d been survivors though and that, as the sun began to rise, those survivors would make a run for safety. Not that he knew where they would find that safety anyway.
Eight floors of luxury flats, even the cheapest of which was a great deal more expensive than his own. Each of them had their own balcony, even those on the ground floor, and that had been their undoing. The infected had gathered in the darkness, staring up at the lights shining in the windows and they had begun to climb.
Whatever infected them seemed to erase most of their higher-level functions, but they could still seem to understand some things. Like that where there was light, there were people.
It was the shattering of glass followed by the screams that had first alerted him as he stared out over the city. The sound had cut the air and was so loud because everything else was so quiet. No sounds of the city to drown it out.
He’d stood and watched as the infected men and women had climbed from floor to floor, smashing through the windows and into the flats. He’d listened, and he’d forced himself to watch. As far as Jack was concerned, he needed to understand just what they were up against and he would use the horror he witnessed as motivation to stop that from happening to his own people.
The attack had continued through the night, more and more of the infected appearing as they were drawn to the noise. The screams of those being killed or assaulted like a sirens call to the infected.
“They’ll likely stay in there,” Deacon said, leaning his forearms on the parapet wall that ran around the edge of the roof. “Till night at least. I don’t like so many of them being so close.”
“Neither do I, but not like we can do anything about it.”
“You’re still planning to go then?”
“Don’t have much choice, you’ve seen the inventory lists.”
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