Mia
I swear I feel like my head is going to explode. The mutated zombies were supposed to be rare…and even then, this kind of mutation was not expected. Landry said the signs of evolution were slower decay and slightly more elevated brain function. This fucking thing had a clear cognitive process. It looked at us, paused, weighed up the bloody facts. It thought about it as if it was a conscious creature capable of making decisions and not some flesh bag being driven by a cannibalistic virus. What the hell did that mean for us?
I look across to my father, and his face mirrors my thoughts. This is definitely an ‘Oh shit’ situation. He gives me a small nod, and I know he intends to let Landry know exactly what we just saw. Things were escalating on a scale we hadn’t predicted, and while that didn’t change what the vaccine would do, it did mean there was a new element to the threat we had to think about.
Being topside, we only had a moment to get our bearings. Luckily, there weren’t any of the undead in the near vicinity, but I could see some figures shuffling around in the distance. We were near the docks, and while they would have been bustling and busy over a year ago, Alex was right, zombies follow the food. This means that during the initial outbreak, the city centres were like red zones, overwhelmed with the undead, and as time passed, they began to move outwards into the suburbs. As food died out, which it inevitably did because we never stood a chance, there seemed to be a standstill of sorts. Zombies just seemed to linger and wander around until food stumbled in their path—which is what we were doing now. The second they got a whiff of us or heard us, it was game over, like we were playing Tag once again.
Alex presses his lips to mine softly in an effort to reassure me, but all his action does is remind me what I have to lose. I am not alone anymore, and every day that passes reminded me of that.
“We need to move out,” my father warns, trying to keep quiet. His frown has deepened and seems like a permanent feature on his face these days. We still have to get to the water-pumping station, which was situated deeper into the wharf without losing any more bodies. I look around at the tired men and women on this crazy mission with us, we’ve only lost two, and I feel despondent that in today’s terms, that’s a success.
I shoot my father a thumbs-up, and Alex points us in the direction in which we need to head. We weave through buildings, trying not to draw attention, and for a while, this works. We do encounter the odd loner zombie, however, they’re quickly dispatched, and quietly too as not to draw attention.
Up ahead, I can make out some weird construction, it’s like a huge wall made out of panelling and scrap metal. Where were the army personnel who got the plant up and running? No one comes out to greet us as we get closer, but there is definitely something located behind the wall, and I’m willing to bet my life that it’s the water station. My father grabs his map and proves me right. There is a crowd of zombies gathering at the base of the huge walls, and I take that as a positive sign. That means that there is life behind the metal. Survivors. Now, we just need to find a way in.
One of the soldiers creeps around the dock to do some recon while the rest of us wait silently. Every nerve in my body feels like its hyper alert, I’m constantly in a state of waiting for something to go wrong. There are too many zombies to take out on our own, if we draw their attention now, then we risking everything at the final hurdle. We are so close, I can see the roof of the water-pump station in the distance, the water tower breaks into the skyline, and I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. We made it. We actually made it and with minimal losses. Two was better than what I’d been expecting, but zero would have been better. Now, we just had to get inside and get the vaccine into the water.
The soldier, a man named Jenkins, returns and tells us that around the wall, about five minutes away, there are a stack of shipping containers that we could climb upon and potentially get over the wall. The downside? We’d have to sneak past the zombies and probably get seen, which means we’d have to be quick. My father shakes his head, it’s yet another risky idea that could get some of us, or maybe even all of us, killed.
Zombies don’t really climb, which is why whatever survivors are inside haven’t moved the containers away. Their coordination isn’t refined enough to allow them to climb, they can walk, shuffle, even do this little run, but they can’t seem to use their arms to pull themselves up or their legs to help push and then effectively clamber up. The virus has wiped out whatever ability they had before, and now, they’re reduced to basic functions, I don’t know what the mutations mean in regards to this now. Does that mean there could be zombies out there who could scale buildings?
“We don’t have a choice, Colonel Hazeldine,” Jenkins whispers. “There isn’t another way in that I can see unless we go all the way around, which leaves us exposed to them.” He nods his head towards the gaggle of zombies clawing at the wall.
“Why is nothing ever fucking easy?” my father groans, folding his map back up.
I was never the most athletic back at Rosehill, that’s why I did archery as opposed to track or swimming. Getting on top of those containers might be easy for the soldiers, but for me, I was praying for an adrenaline surge or some shit. Donovan catches my eye and winks, I know we’re all thinking the same thing, there are always more hurdles, more problems, but there’s no point moaning about it now. We had some climbing to do.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alex
We climb up onto the first metal-shipping container, which isn’t an easy feat lugging our backpacks. Mia struggles a little so I grab her by her jacket and yank her up. We also find it difficult to stay quiet, our feet, bodies, and gear clanking against the rusted steel, which draws some of the damn zombies our way. I watch carefully as they turn, attracted to the sound. They move slowly until they catch sight of us, they break away from the band they’ve formed around the bottom of the wall, shuffling closer and picking up speed as they can finally smell us.
There’s nothing quite as terrifying as a zombie coming at you when it’s caught your scent. They sniff wildly at the air; their poor eyesight means that they struggle to focus on you properly while they stretch out their arms, grabbing at the air, which makes my skin crawl.
“We need to move,” I warn as they pick up speed.
Donovan is up onto the second container, where he grabs Mia by the arm and pulls her up so roughly I’m surprised her arm doesn’t pop out of the socket.
We manage to get over the wall and drop down to the other side. Somehow, I skid and land awkwardly, and a sharp pain shoots up my left leg. Donovan helps me to my feet, and I press my boot into the mud, and the pain comes back. Yep, I’ve probably sprained my ankle. Great. We share a look, one that says ‘Let’s not tell Mia’ as she’ll only worry, and right now, everyone needs to stay alert and focused. Mia throws her bow down and drops down beside me, landing perfectly. For someone who claims to not have an athletic hair on her head, she’s surprisingly agile.
Hearing the zombies scratching and groaning on the other side of the wall as we regroup makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, even though this was now the soundtrack to our lives. Looking around us, there is another metal wire fence about fifteen feet away, and beyond that, there is the pump station. To the right of it, there seems to be some tents and makeshift buildings, which I’m wary of. If it was the army, then we would have met someone already. They never would have let us get over the wall. If it’s not the army—then who the hell has control over the water?
“There’s an encampment over there, Colonel,” one of the female soldiers points out.
“I see it, Fischer, but that’s not our objective. We need to get inside the water plant, that’s all we came for.” Hazeldine hands her a map and quickly checks Mia over.
Fischer nods and looks at the map carefully. “Sir, it looks like we’re at the West entrance, so to get to the correct pump, we need to either go through the camp or find a backway in.”
Looking over at the mini
town through the fence, Hazeldine inhales and exhales slowly. “Right, here’s what we’re going to do. Mia, Alex, Donovan, Jenkins, Fischer with me. We’re going to get to the pump. Williams, Jones, Lewis, and Kendall, you’re going to keep watch and do a little recon on the encampment. Use the radios to signal, but otherwise keep them off. We don’t want to draw any hostile attention.”
We keep low and move as quickly as we can, my legs feel like they're on fire after the last few days, and holy hell if my ankle doesn’t make me want to bite down on my tongue with even the lightest step. We cut a hole in the wire fence, going over it would be too noisy and draw too much attention. Then, our little band of heroes here to save the day splits into two, we head for the massive building before us while the others move towards the shanty town that’s sprung up in London docks. The back exit for the building is boarded up with more metal sheets, whoever was running this place didn’t want anyone just sneaking in.
“So, what now?” Donovan asks, nodding towards the door that was no longer a door.
“Well, you have to break a few eggs to save the world,” Mia says with a smile as she points up to a fire escape and a window that was just in reach.
Donovan raises arches a brow. “I don’t think that’s the saying…”
“It’s not like we have much choice,” Hazeldine agrees as he hands Mia the metal tube containing the vaccine. She looks grim as she straps it to her leg and pulls the fabric of her trousers back over it. Carefully, Mia and Fischer begin to climb the rusty and damaged fire escape. There are steps missing, again probably to prevent intruders. It was also why none of us were attempting it just yet, I wasn’t sure it could hold us, whereas both women were dainty.
Mia holds the sides of the metal frame staircase while Fischer climbs, and when she’s even with the window, she uses the tip of her gun to break the glass. Once it’s cleared, she wraps her hands in some fabric she’s torn from her jacket and grips onto the window frame and drags herself inside. I watch with a lump in my throat as Mia begins her climb and then does the same thing. It’s not that I don’t think Mia is capable of doing these dangerous things, I just don’t like it.
Donovan goes next, slowly as the metal groans beneath his weight, and I wonder how Hazeldine is going to cope, the man is built like a brick-shit house. Jenkins is next, helped through the window by the others, and then finally, it’s my turn. I can feel the rusted metal flaking off under my hands as I grip the sides tightly and begin to climb. When I’m about halfway, I think to myself how smooth sailing everything seems to be, we’ve made it through the Underground, to the wharf, and now we’re getting into the building. At this rate, we’d be finished in time for tea.
I’m reaching across for the window, Donovan and Jenkins pulling me in, when I hear it. The click of a gun being loaded, and it sounds suspiciously close to my head as I’m hanging inside the window. I’m pulled the rest of the way in and quickly scramble to my feet, and yep, I was right. There’s a gun being pointed to my face. Several of them, in fact, military issued if I didn’t know better, but the men who were holding them weren’t army.
A gruff voice calls out, and it echoes around the water plant, “Leo’s going to want to see them. You know how he feels about the authorities.”
One of the men chuckles as he pushes Donovan to the floor and begins to tie up his hands. Two other men do the same for Fischer and Mia. Jenkins is sporting a split lip as his assailant tries to tie him down.
“Get the old man from outside too. Leo will want to have some fun with that one.”
A young woman, maybe seventeen or so, leaves with a middle-aged man. They have paint on their faces, and their clothes are decorated with God knows what. I want to say I think I saw a bone or two and some strange jewellery, but I wasn’t willing to bet my life on it.
I look across at Mia, her green eyes wide with worry as we’re dragged down the stairs, through the pump station, and out once again. The soldiers who were sent to scope out tents are already waiting with Hazeldine, all bound like us and on their knees with weapons pointed at them. Where did they get all this firepower?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mia
Our hands are tied, and we’re led to a large tent inside the makeshift camping grounds. A tall man with a shaved head, who I assume is Leo, sits on a throne of sorts, surrounded by people who look like they’re extras in some sort of film with painted faces. One young boy is wearing a necklace of what looks like finger bones; my stomach turns as I spot it. I don’t think they could look more like stereotypical heathens if they tried, but what was the point? Was it a scare tactic?
The bald man leans forward to glare at us, his throne was clearly once just a nice armchair, but now he had guns and knives strapped to the sides. I almost snigger to myself, it’s like a shit Game of Thrones copy, a ‘here’s one I made at home’ kind of thing, but the guns pointed in my direction silence me. The man who grabbed me throws me down, and I fall to my knees, my father, and Alex beside me. The remaining soldiers are all forced onto the floor behind us.
A woman dressed in black with a red-painted handprint on her face steps forward and whispers in the man’s ear. His face twists up in anger, and I know we’re not in for an easy ride. We’ve stepped into their territory, and like any animal, they’re on defence mode.
Leo leans forward in his throne. “You think we’re going to let you near the water supply? Are you thick? Or just fucking idiots?”
He’s aiming his questions at my father, who doesn’t flinch. He twirls a sharp-looking knife between his fingers, the blade glinting in the light.
“The government didn’t give a shit about us, YOU did this,” he hisses, pointing at my father and his men.
“And they’re trying to fix it!” I protest, pushing against the hand that holds me in place by my shoulder. I can’t stand the tension that has been building, this man isn’t a king, and he certainly isn’t my king, so I refuse to kneel at his feet.
He laughs, and it’s a hollow sound. He doesn’t care. “Fix it? There is no fixing it. We have to fight. Survive. I wouldn’t trust them not to poison us again.”
The group of people surrounding us cheer. He’s the boss here, and they’ll eat up whatever he says because the alternative is worse. Here, he protects them in some fucked-up way. I look around us, they all look dirty and underfed. Their gaunt faces look angry as their eyes pass over us. These are the people our government were trying to kill, the waifs and strays, the lower classes, and those who just don’t make the cut. But look at them, he was right in a way—they were surviving. Somehow.
“It’s a vaccine, it will help,” I try again, speaking softly. This could help them, help all of us, but I just needed to make them see it.
“Stupid woman, look around you. They thought we would die, that their virus would wipe us out, and they could carry on with their perfect lives. But look at it now, we run London. The water is ours.”
More cheers erupted from the crowd, which seems to be growing as we draw in more curious people.
I snort, which earns me a squeeze from the brute holding me down. “You don’t run London, do you not hear the hordes out there? How many people do you lose with every supply run?”
The crowd now goes quiet, angry whispers carrying in the air, and I don’t blame them. This was the government’s fault, my own father played a hand in the destruction of society, but they had to understand that we were trying to fix it.
I continue to push while I have their attention, “You aren’t winning, you aren’t coming out on top. You’re hanging on by the skin of your teeth. Let us help.”
I can see people in the crowd thinking about it, life has been hard for them here, and a vaccine offers a glimmer of hope, one less thing to worry about. But I know Leo isn’t going down without a fight, men like him never do. He thinks he’s in charge now, and he isn’t going to give up an inch of power, even if it means we can save humanity.
Leo stands and paces back and fort
h in front of his people. They trust him, they know him, and we’re just the bad guys who ruined the planet. I see a child hugging on to the legs of a woman I assume is its mother, it too looks starved and afraid. Bruises cover them both. The protection Leo offers comes at a price, and in a world filled with zombies, so many are willing to pay it.
“We don’t need your help,” he scoffs, pointing his knife at us. “You aren’t going near our water supply. Simple.”
This time, I manage to break free of the brute holding me, and I get to my feet.
“God, you’re dick!” I scream as I stand. I can’t help the frustration I feel, why cut off your nose to spite your face? Didn’t he realise that this vaccine would give us a chance? We wouldn’t turn anymore. We wouldn’t become decaying, rotten, ravenous monsters.
“Mia, calm down,” Alex says, his voice low. He’s kept his head down since we’ve arrived, and there's this feeling settling over me like he knows something.
“I’m trying…” I retort as stare at Leo. His blue eyes flash with anger before a chill look replaces it.
He smirks at me. “They’re boring me now. Take the weapons, the clothes, and any food they have. Then push them back out into the city.” He waves his hand dismissively, and his minions spring into action.
“No!” my father cries, knowing that this will mean certain death for us.
No weapons, no shoes, and no supplies? We may as well wait in the street and yell ‘Here zombie, zombie, zombie!’ It didn’t matter that we were protected from the virus, we would be mauled to death. Zombie chow. The crowd goes still, but no one speaks up for us, they’re clearly used to witnessing this type of punishment time and time again. There’s no pity on their faces, just quiet acceptance.
Leo runs his tongue over his teeth before smacking his mouth with a greedy expression. He grabs my chin, pulling me close to him. I struggle to free myself, my hands still tied.
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