Cobra Z (32 page)

“
Spreaaaad
,” the creature roared and pounced off the car in search of more prey. Dave, dazed and traumatised, not knowing that the infection now poured through his body, felt consciousness slip away. He would awaken without the memories of his former self.

*

It seemed that even the end of the world didn’t stop people shopping. Viraj Mendis sat at the table in the food court and waited for his coffee to cool. He had no smartphone, believing such technology to be nothing more than a distraction. And whilst he had a cheap mobile phone, he did not have it on him. After all, why would he need it just to go shopping?

The Westfield shopping complex seemed quiet today, and he looked around at the reduced throng of people. A man ran past in definite agitation, people cursing him as he clipped them. Viraj looked the way he had come, down the full length of one of the shopping lanes. He liked to people watch, liked to sit and judge and criticise those who dwelled around him. Look at that fat bastard; how could he let himself get in that state? And what the hell was she wearing? She looked like a slut. Probably a drug addict and a whore. Let’s not even talk about that man’s dress sense. Why the hell would you wear a baseball cap indoors?

He came here about once a week to shop, and always did it when most people were at work. And whilst he himself was self-employed and worked from home, he was always surprised by how many people didn’t seem to be gainfully employed. Benefits scum and layabouts. At the far end of the shopping alley, a good hundred metres away, shouts rose. Viraj brought his coffee to his lips and took a sip, scrutinising the commotion. What was this, a fight?

He felt it before he saw it. It was like a wave that rolled over him, a feeling that something in the air had changed. He returned the cup to the table and stood. An avid comic book fan, if asked, he would say his Spidey sense was tingling. Although he wouldn’t be asked, because there would be nobody to ask him. There was a scream, and then the people at the end of the shopping aisle began to run. As they ran, the people closer to where he stood began to run, and a ripple of humanity propelled itself towards him. Viraj stood mesmerised as the crowd surged closer. He noticed people around him standing, commenting on what was occurring. Somewhere, he heard someone say zombies, and he felt someone push into his back as they pushed past him.

“Watch it, you idiot,” Viraj said angrily, turning to his brief assailant. Viraj was a big man and liked to use his size to intimidate people when they crossed him. But the person who had banged into him was already too far away for it to be a real issue. He turned his attention back to the crowd, to the bedlam. Something inside him said run, but having no knowledge of the present state of the country, he instead took a step forward. There were more screams, and he now saw people being assaulted. Viraj saw a young man tackle an elderly lady to the ground. A child ran past, tears streaming, six years old at most.

“Mummy, where’s my mummy?” Well, that was it. Viraj had no time for rioting scum, and he walked purposefully towards the brawling mass. It wasn’t until twenty paces into his advance that he realised his error.

“What the fuck?” This wasn’t a riot. The people weren’t fighting; they were being ripped apart. People were running because they were being chased. He should have listened to his inner voice, and he stopped dead in his tracks and began to back up. Ahead, he saw a nightmare, now not obscured by fake foliage. A woman fleeing, baby in hand, was felled by two elderly gentlemen who ran with a speed that defied their arthritic age. The baby went flying, landing with a sickening thump. Its mother, now sprawled on the floor, reached for it, pleading for its safety, but one of the elderly attackers jumped on her back and bit deep into her scalp. It ripped off a piece of hair and flesh with its teeth, reached up and cast the morsel aside. Its partner abandoned the mother and looked straight into Viraj’s eyes.

“
Feeeeeeeed,
” it howled and flung itself at him. Viraj ran every day, did weighted uphill sprints, but as he turned to flee the blood-stained abomination, he knew he couldn’t outrun it. His burst of speed was no match for his pursuer, and he felt a hand grab his sports jacket. Even with his powerful forward momentum, he felt himself yanked back and powerful arms encased him. There was no moment to pause, no lull where he got to contemplate his fate; the teeth were into his neck instantly, and he felt a searing pain as a huge chunk of flesh was ripped from him. The scream that formed in his throat was just one of many that now echoed through the shopping centre. Warmth spread down his right side, and the arms released him. Viraj staggered, a hand going up to his slaughtered neck, blood spurting from the severed artery. He managed to turn, saw the ghoul that stood chewing savagely on its prize, and in his faltering mind, he could have sworn the creature smiled at him. Viraj stumbled and landed on one knee, the pain of the impact almost unnoticed as a blackness began to creep into the periphery of his vision. The creature watched him briefly and then its head darted to one side, and it ran off after another prize.

Every second, his neck spurted red out across the shopping centre floor, and bleeding out, Viraj collapsed fully to the floor, his arms saving his face from the impact. He lay there, the life pouring from him, the virus worming its way into his every cell. He passed out and died on the floor whilst hundreds around him were turned to the new cause.

But death, it seemed, meant nothing these days. It wasn’t the end. Enough of the virus had entered his system and enough time had elapsed for the heart to pump the contaminated blood to the brain. Even with the carotid artery partially severed, some blood still flowed past the injury, and after several minutes black eyes opened to look at the world with a dead mind. There was only one thing that mind wanted, the taste of fresh human flesh. The figure rose, imposing in life, terrifying in its reanimated from. It stretched, testing out the already decaying muscles and tendons. Its balance faltered momentarily, but it took a hesitant step nonetheless and then another. Shambling forward, the monstrosity made its way through the carnage on pure predatory instinct. There was no food here – the tsunami had already passed, and most of those attacked had merely been infected. They were now off, hunting, devouring, feeding. It could hear them, in the vestiges of its mind, the chatter of a collective driven by the power of the virus. It cared not about the strategy; it was beyond that now. All it wanted was uninfected flesh. And on automatic it headed for a likely feeding ground.

Jen couldn’t believe how empty the cinema was, and that was exactly why she liked to come at this time of day. Most people went at stupid times, packing themselves in the uncomfortable seats, gorging on overpriced chemical food and sugar laden drinks. Not Jen, she was smart – she brought her own food with her, organic, from Waitrose no less. She had to look after herself, because nobody else in this world was going to do that for her. When she had entered, she had been alone, and now there were perhaps only two other people in the entire room with her.
Perfect
, she said to herself and she melted into her seat as the film captivated her. Only in her peripheral vision did she notice the shambling figure that entered the cinema room, staggering slightly as it started up the steps. Christ, was he drunk? He couldn’t even walk in a straight line. She ignored the new arrival, concentrating on the hero who was presently blowing bad guys away with what seemed to be magical accuracy. Yes, she ignored him, at least until he chose her row to sit on, walking past the row of upended seats as he shambled towards her.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said under her breath. The last thing she needed was to deal with a creeper like this. And he was a big guy too. It happened occasionally, pathetic men thinking they could somehow impose on her solitude. She expected him to plonk himself down in the seat next to her, but he didn’t, and she looked up at the hulking figure. In the flash from the cinema screen, she saw something more horrific than her lifetime’s addiction to horror films had ever shown her, and she screamed, a more realistic scream than she had ever heard on film. The body of Viraj fell on her, all fists and teeth, unfeeling and unrelenting. It was not concerned with spreading the virus, all it wanted was flesh.

11.07AM, 16
th
September 2015, Westminster Bridge, London

“We have them contained in the underground, General, but they are swimming the Thames in large numbers,” Grainger said loudly into the radio. He was having difficulty hearing the person on the other end, as everything he had was firing at the swarm hurling itself across the bridge. “I’m spread too thin to contain this. And the spread through the tube network cannot be stopped. Any station we seal off, they will just bypass. I cannot hold them.”

“Captain Walker has had to retreat from Russell Square. I’ve told him to come and reinforce your northern flank, but he has lost a third of his men. Understand this, Captain, the city is most likely lost. The only way to save it now is to destroy it, and our political masters aren’t going to agree to that in time.” There was a loud noise as a mortar team fired off at the bridge. The resulting explosion sent body parts into the air. The attacking infected weren’t making progress across the bridge, the fire being laid down on them too strong. But those that fell just got back up, hardier and more resilient than their former selves. “The politicians aren’t listening to us yet, so all we can do is consolidate and try and save what we can.” That was General Marston. The news sent a knife through Grainger’s spine. They were admitting defeat so easily. That was when he heard the helicopters, and he looked up to see the black shapes approaching in the sky. “Marston out,” said the voice on the radio.

One SAS troop had diverted in order to land at and secure Horse Guards Parade. The rest came into view overhead, hovering above Grainger’s position. One by one, the Wildcats manoeuvred into position, and then their side doors opened. As the ropes fell out, men dressed in black began to descend. The first man to hit the ground unbuckled himself and quick marched over to the Warrior where Grainger stood. The captain stood with a look of awe on his face. As the newcomer with the presence that indicated a thousand wars came towards him, he was massaged by the ghosts of gun smoke that were being whipped up by the rotors above.

“Hudson SAS,” he said, shaking Grainger’s hand. One of the Apaches began to strafe the hoard on the bridge. “I was told you needed a bit of help.”

“
We will spread, we will feed, we will kill.
” Thousands of eyes looked at the carnage on the bridge, thousands of linked minds thinking as one. They didn’t really understand what they were attacking or why, just as a wolf didn’t intellectually understand why it killed its prey. But the infected kept pushing, weight of numbers being their primary weapon. From all around Waterloo, those carrying the virus converged on the heart of the damned, adding thousands to their ranks with every passing moment. As they fell beneath the impacts of bullets and mortars and rockets, their bodies changed, mutated. Resurrected, they stood, they crawled, and they lumbered towards those guarding Westminster purely on instinct. They were relentless, merciless and their hunger grew even when they bit into the flesh of the living. With their internal organs rotting within their very bodies, there was no mechanism to digest that which was consumed. Many of the zombies found they weren’t even able to swallow, and merely spat out what they bit off, only to fill their mouths once more. The mutation in the brain told them to. It was their essence for being. Nothing else mattered except the wet, slick, coppery taste of human flesh and the need to make more of their kind.

There were ten million people in London, and by now, three hundred thousand were carriers of the deadliest disease man had ever known. That number grew by the minute, for as the people fled, they became easier targets, bunched together as they became trapped in bottle necks. Some didn’t flee, but hid behind locked doors, hoping that the infected would pass them by. But they never did, and the contagion forced them to damage their own bodies to get at the living. Because death was irrelevant – it was just another form of life now. And so the infected began to converge, to combine and to swarm. All the bullets in the world couldn’t stop such a force, not over such a wide area, not when they recruited new soldiers from the very army they fought against.

*

Hudson looked at the opposite bank, saw the hundreds of infected now throwing themselves into the river. Whilst there weren’t many ways to get out at his side of the Thames, there were further up and down, so eventually the enemy would be massing against them on multiple fronts. The sound of machine gun fire was all pervasive. He turned to Grainger.

“Can you hold them?”

“Maybe for a while, but we will be overrun,” Grainger replied.

“Then let’s see if we can buy the politicians time to pull their fingers out of their fucking arses.” Hudson smiled, and Grainger felt the corners of his mouth turning up too.

“Fuck it,” Grainger said. “Let’s get this done.”

11.09AM, 16
th
September 2015, Hounslow, London

“Bloody hell, Clive, where did you get that?” They were in the somewhat decrepit kitchen of Clive’s semi-detached house, somewhere Jack had never set foot before. His sister, nervous of the new environment and the strangeness of the day’s events, clung to him. He put a protective arm around her.