by Colley, Ryan
The thuds on the door eventually grew quieter until, eventually, there wasn’t any at all. The undead finally lost interest or forgot about me. They probably moved on to easier pickings. I waited until I was certain there wouldn’t be any more attempts at entry before I stood up and walked around the room. There was a small, orange biohazard bin to one side of the room, which was filled with used syringes; another instinctual phobia of mine. For someone who is phobic of any medical settings, an aversion to blood, and a slight disdain of social situations, I wasn’t doing too badly! There was a small metal fridge, which I opened, only to find blood packs. I was AB, so any of them would work for me should I need it. I grimaced at that and quickly shut the fridge. In the cupboards was everything one needed to make a decent first aid kit, which I proceeded to take. No one was using them, and I was needy. I took bandages, antibiotics, and bottles of painkillers. They were bound to all come in handy at some point. It was even to the point where my rucksack was becoming too full. Who would have thought there would be so much lying around during the almost-end of the world? Taking a closer look at the posters, I saw they were about how to quarantine the infection and, surprisingly, about prevention and vaccination against it. Vaccination? That was news to me. As far as I was concerned, there was no vaccination. Why wasn’t the government promoting it? I continued my examination of the room. There was a vending machine in the corner, full of delicious treats. I was a little disappointed because I didn’t have any money on me. On the other side of the room was another door, which also read “Quarantine.” I approached it. There was a colourful, almost cartoonish, poster on it. It was a simple poster of what to expect. It showed people being taken down the corridor through the door, receiving an injection and, in the last panel, a man with thumbs up showing everything was “OK.” If I could get my hands on a vaccination, life would be a lot easier. My mouth began to salivate at the idea of being protected against the infection. I opened the door and walked inside. The corridor was just as clinical as the previous room. All white: floor, walls and ceiling. At the end was a large metal door. It looked new and recently installed. The corridor smelled odd, like burnt toast, but worse. I had smelled it a couple of times before … I could smell petrol too. Something wasn’t right. Next to the door were several buttons and a dial. I had no idea what it was for. I approached the door, wrapped my hand around the huge metal handle, and pulled it open.
Inside was an incredibly horrible stench, and the source was evident. There were burnt, black husks on the floor. There were heaps of something dotted all over the room. They were oddly human-shaped, like someone lying in the foetal position. I bent over to look at one closely, trying to figure out what it was. A strange noise emanated from the husks. It started off as an odd cracking and creaking noise, combined with the sound of tearing paper. Then the black mass began to move. Pieces tore away as the parts began to pull away from the rest of it. It was like a macabre cocoon hatching. Long, thin appendages broke away and unfolded as it began to reach towards me. It pulled a dome-like object up. There were no features on it whatsoever except for two dark hollows towards the top and one gaping hole at the bottom. It was then I realised that the “black husks” had been people. The “dome” was just a blackened sphere which was its head. The dark hollows were empty, black sockets which clearly used to be eyes. The gaping hole was a lipless mouth. The creature opened its “mouth” further, exposing blackened stumps of teeth; there was no tongue. A noise came from its mouth. It wasn’t the snarl of the undead I was used to, but a ghastly whisper of air leaving its body. It began to reach for me slowly, its black, paper-thin skin tearing and falling apart. Flakes fell to the floor. I stood up, disgusted by what I saw. It started to pull itself towards me, legs expanding in the process. There was a gory mess on the floor where it had been. Without a second’s hesitation, I stomped on the creature’s head. Its skull concaved with very little force. My boot was covered in the blackened gore. Within a couple of seconds, the other blackened masses began to move. I stepped out of the room and slammed the heavy door shut with no plans to ever enter again. I walked out of the corridor as well. If I had waited around any longer, I’m sure I would have heard blackened claws scratching at the door.
I stumbled back into the first room I had entered and slumped down in the chair. I felt ill and had a cold sweat. I would never know officially what had gone on in that room, but I could assume. The government had probably tried to quarantine those whom they thought were infected, especially at areas where evacuations would take place. When that didn’t work, there was an offer of a “vaccination,” which people accepted. Maybe the government started off with good intentions of trying to cure the infection. Maybe they started taking blood to try and figure it out, but there wasn’t a cure. So they invented the “Quarantine” room. Patients would be taken in there to be “vaccinated,” except in reality they would be taken to an execution chamber where they were incinerated. People were lured in and killed. I couldn’t be sure that was the case, but the evidence at hand suggested it. When the government pulled out of the area, they just left things as they were. The government had fallen so far. They hadn’t even bothered to clean up the bodies they had left. Did all the bodies ended up as blackened undead? Did the government realise that when they removed others? If they hadn’t, there could be blackened corpses wandering the land, instilling fear wherever they went. I had enough. I suddenly realised how tired I felt. All the missed sleep and bodily exertion had caught up with me. I needed to sleep so badly, and it felt like my body would give into it at any moment. I couldn’t sleep just then, however. I dragged myself up and over to the filing cabinets in the corner. I moved them one by one and stacked them in front of the door and on the table. If the undead wanted to get through the door, it wouldn’t stop them, but it would certainly slow them down. I went through my rucksack to retrieve my sleeping bag and some food. I was so hungry and so tired. You couldn’t survive on energy bars. I looked at the vending machine again. It was a shame I didn’t have any money. Then again, I was hungry, and there wasn’t anyone around … I approached the vending machine to commit a crime which I’d never get caught for. I caught my reflection in the glass. I had a little look of glee in my eyes. I let the mirth spread to my lips and had a full grin in seconds. With that, I lifted my foot and put my heel through the glass, exposing the delicious snacks within. Suddenly, a small tinny alarm began to sound. I panicked. There was pounding on the door again as the undead heard the commotion. I reached behind the back of the machine and yanked the plug from the wall. The alarm died as soon as the power was cut. The pounding continued. The undead had been alerted to my presence in the room and were suddenly very interested in me again. I felt like a very rich old guy at a bikini model convention.
“I feel so used right now,” I said, more so to myself, with a weak nervous laugh. One step closer to the edge of insanity. The pounding continued, equally unperturbed by my comment. I ignored the sound and took a lot of the lovely and colourful snacks from the vending machine: chocolate bars, crisps, and more chocolate bars. I was going to have a feast which diabetics would envy. I started back to my chair with my snacks but, almost as a second thought, collected my phone charger as well. I plugged in my phone where the vending machine had been. Within a few minutes, my phone lit up as it turned on. I expected a lot of missed calls, but there weren’t many. There were texts though. I checked the time of the last one. It had only been a day earlier from my mother and read:
“Help”
That was all it said. There were no missed calls after that point. Had the infection reached Bristol? Was that why there were no more messages? Maybe they had just given up waiting for me? I didn’t know. Any of those scenarios just meant that I had to persevere and move forward. I hadn’t come so far to turn back! I curled up in the chair and dragged my sleeping bag over me like a blanket. I placed my assault rifle next to me with the safety on. It was facing the door, as was the chair. I curled my finger arou
nd the trigger. I was ready for the undead if, or when, they broke down the door. I had snacks resting on my chest ready to eat as I got comfy in the chair. I listened to the noises around me. There was still thudding on the door. There was also still a lot of noise outside. The screams had been replaced by occasional shouts. The weaker of the survivors had obviously died and only the strong lived. I imagined it was only soldiers, maybe a few survivors with guns, left. There was an occasional burst of gunfire. Maybe the survivors had built up a good defence? Or maybe there weren’t many of them left? I rubbed my eyes and went to blink, but didn’t open them again. I had fallen into a deep and peaceful sleep, regardless of the death and destruction around me. I was safe in a room. I was the warm centre of survival.
TAO OF SAM – WATER: THE BASICS
Eventually, the water is going to be switched off. In the early days, find ways to store as much water as possible. Also you should hoard a lot of bottled water. Keep it safe and protected. Ration it.
Remember, you can boil water to purify it. Perhaps invest in some purification capsules.
Find a way to catch rainwater. Maybe build a well. Find a way to harvest dew or something.
Remember, you can survive, on average, for three days without water.
If worst comes to worst, fizzy drinks will probably be in great supply. Something is better than nothing!
Just find and store water.
CHAPTER 15
I awoke. Not jolted awake by the undead tearing through the door. Or by gunfire tearing its way through me. I just woke up. I had slept dreamlessly and quietly. It took me a few moments to realise that almost all noise outside had ceased. There was no more pounding on the door. No more gunfire. No more shouting. That could either be a good sign or a bad one; I felt the latter was more likely. Either way, I doubted my presence would be a warm welcome by whomever, or whatever, was out there. I sat up, spilling all the snacks onto the floor. I yawned. Was it day or night outside? Seeing the food reminded me of how hungry I was and, almost in agreement, my stomach grumbled loudly. It almost sounded like it was eating itself. I pulled open a bag of crisps and ate them hungrily, followed by another and then a chocolate bar. I stood up and stretched, bones clicking and popping as I did so. It felt so good! I strolled over to the vending machine, admiring my vandalism. I reached through the broken glass and into the machine and pulled out a bottle of unbranded cola. I took several huge gulps and belched loudly. I loved the sugary-caffeine rush it provided, although I would have preferred a branded drink. I took a smaller sip and was hit with a horrible realisation. At some point in the near future, fizzy drinks and sweet snacks would be a rare commodity. Once the factories shut down, and the looters had taken what there was, there wouldn’t be any more made. Never again. I savoured the last few mouthfuls of cola as if it was my last. I did take a few bottles and put them into my bag. I also took a bottle of water. I knew that I should probably have taken the water over the cola but, at the same time, I could find water almost anywhere; cola not so much. After packing, I did something which disgusted me but couldn’t be helped. I relieved my bowels in the corner whilst squatting over the bin, using tissues from the cupboard to clean up my mess. What can I say? Every adventurer has to answer the call of nature sometime, and it is never pretty.
I double checked I was ready to go and walked over to the door. I shifted everything I had placed in front of the door. I wrapped my fingers around the handle. My hand lingered there for a few moments. I was unwilling to leave the safety of the room. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I thumbed off the safety on my assault rifle; it was still on single shot. I levelled the gun at waist height and pushed open the door slowly. It only moved a couple of inches before meeting resistance. I almost stuck my head through the gap to see why, but cold, dead fingers slowly wrapped around the edge of the door. They began to tug at the door but ended up pulling themselves towards the door. Then a face pushed through the gap, pale eyes staring. The undead creature, with half its neck missing, darted towards me and snarled angrily. I had forgot how bad the stench of the undead was and almost stumbled back to get away from it. Luckily, it was a case of mind over body and I halted my retreat. I quickly pulled the door shut. The door almost hit home and shut, but the undead fingers halted that. The sharp edge of the metal door cut through the soft, dead flesh of the zombie until it hit bone. Unfortunately, the door wasn’t sharp enough to severe them. Instead, I had to struggle in a tug of war for the door. The zombie hungrily tried to pull it open, and I desperately tried to close it. Every time I almost had it, I hit the bone of the fingers. I let my assault rifle drop; it swung on the strap and hung in the air, but it freed up my other hand to assist me. I used my spare hand to pull the handgun out of my waistband and aimed it point blank at the fingers. I tensed my arm, ready for the recoil, closed my eyes and scrunched up my face in anticipation of the shot. I pulled the trigger. I felt the pull on the door give way and finally close. There was an intense ringing in my ears from the shot and I felt entirely disorientated from it. My head spun and I almost lost my balance. I wasn’t in a rush to do that again any time soon! I opened my eyes and squinted at the door. I saw a large hole in the door from where the bullet connected and passed through. I stared at the hole. There was a long silence before an almighty hammering begun. I couldn’t see through the door, but I knew there were a lot more undead there than previously. There must have been a huge number of them trying to get through. That did answer one question, however; the living had lost the battle at the coach station and only the undead remained.
Normally I would have waited out the assault, but time wasn’t an option. Time was of the essence when it came to Alice, an issue for future-Sam. Present-Sam had a more pressing issue. The door had started to bulge inwards. The sheer force of the undead pressing and pounding on the door was causing it to give way. There was a fold developing in the metal, starting at the bullet hole and spreading outwards. The undead would break through, and it would be my fault. I caused the weakness in the door which would lead to my demise. I didn’t have much time before the door collapsed and I was trapped. I paced back and forth, unsure of what to do. I ran my hand nervously through my sweaty hair as I tried to formulate my next move. Thinking wasn’t doing me any good. I needed action! With that, I bolted into motion. I moved more objects to the door, although I doubted it would hold the undead at all. I just wanted to slow them down. I had one more option: move into the death chamber with its thick metal door. The only problem was that I would just be trapped further in the building with even less chance of escape. I shuddered at the thought of the blackened undead. Why were they so psychologically terrifying? That idea was better than nothing. I opened the door leading into the corridor and was hit with the tinge of burnt flesh. I almost stepped through but then I noticed there was a small gap between the door and the wall when opened. The gears of my mind turned as ideas formed. I jogged down the corridor to the death chamber and swung that door open. The horrible burnt smell hit me again, but I ignored it. I pulled out my spear-knife and stabbed all the charred undead. Flakes of ashen flesh crumbled away, finishing them off for good. I then left the door open and retreated to the first door. I proceeded to squeeze behind it and into the corner where I was snug between the wall and door. I pulled the door closer to me; it completely removed me from sight. I held my breath, and I waited and listened. I could hear the sound of tearing metal as the door crumpled and came off its hinges. I imagined the undead tumbling over each other to get at me. I heard the undead run through the room, knocking over and breaking stuff as they went, completely uncaring and unaware as they did so. They carried on down the corridor and eventually into the death chamber. The undead kept on pouring through the room and into the corridor. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard everything! I waited until I couldn’t hear any more pounding of feet before slamming the heavy door shut. I only snatched a quick glance into the corridor and saw that the entirety of it was filled with the newly trapped
undead. There had to be at least one hundred of them in there. Undead pounded on the door trying to get back out to me, but to no avail. They were never getting through that door. I waited with my assault rifle aimed at the door, but no undead wandered through. I considered leaving as soon as possible but realised I couldn’t leave the undead trapped like that. Not because I felt sympathetic for them, but because anyone could wander in and open the door, letting a tidal wave of undead out onto them and the world. I needed to warn future travellers about them. I quickly opened all the cupboards and drawers, looking for a marker of some kind. Nothing. Instead, I ran over to the cupboard and took out some latex medical gloves. I opened the fridge and took out one blood pack. I cut it open and spilled it onto the floor. Such a disgusting task. I tried to imagine it was paint. That didn’t work. I rubbed my gloved hands in it until they were soaked in blood. I walked up to the door and smeared the blood over the cool metal. When I had finished, there were two words:
