Great Bitten: Outbreak (18 page)

Not that I actually cared. As long as we got our stuff, in and out easy and alive, then I couldn’t care less what any other survivors were doing.

Rick led the way in to the store. It was much worse in here. People obviously wised up to the fact that maybe there wouldn’t be lorries restocking the shelves for quite some time, even if they did rob the perfume to keep smelling good whilst the world burned. There were rolled tins and half the lights in the store were out. Judging by the smell coming from the chilled aisle, the fridges had given out as well. But over there was bottled water, so we held our noses and made a go for it. In here now we saw more signs of looting. I suppose in our rush to the stores we had ignored it, and in Boots there was really no sign of it. But in the supermarket, there were signs everywhere. Of rioting and of struggle. There were smears of blood on the floor, some in the shape of fingers dragged across the floor. In my head in its place I put the screaming person, their struggle as they sought any handhold to stop themselves from being pulled in to the clutches of the hungry undead. I envisioned fingernails being torn out as they dug desperately in to the vinyl. I saw the hungry teeth biting in to the leg, the thigh, visceral blood spouting out across the floor.

“Oh holy fuck.” Rick stopped short and pointed at the floor. There were two dead bodies curled together on the floor. ‘Bodies’ was the best conservative estimate. A pool of dried blood surrounded them both. One of the hand-swipes ended there. Perhaps my daydream hadn’t been too far away from the brutal truth. Andrew slid forward slowly, his axe extended to the full reach of his arm. He prodded at the heap of meat, tentatively at first, but then with growing confidence smattered with a degree of revulsion. When we were all satisfied that they weren’t going to roll over and try to eat our feet, we did the only thing we had been holding back. We all bent forward and heaved, emptying our guts of any nutrients we had left in our bodies. After my stomach stopped convulsing I tapped at my ears. I thought they were still ringing, but then I realised the sound was a buzzing, and it was coming from the bodies. The sour tang of rot was disgusting. I can’t even begin to describe it properly. Try leaving some rotten meat in a sauna. Then mix it with liberal amounts of shit and urine, then put it back in the sauna for a day. That’s coming close.

The smell in London must be beyond tolerable. I think I’d kill myself just to get away from the stench. And the disease? Never mind the infection. Even if you managed to avoid the undead, bacterial playgrounds like this would be appearing all over the country. There were no doubt many more we hadn’t yet come across. Inevitably my mind slipped back to the YouTube nightclub bloodbath. There was a set of doors that should never be opened again. Maybe the international community would decide to precision bomb us. If this thing was ever brought to an end, the densely-populated areas would probably need that intensity of cleansing fire to rid them of any pestilence.

“Warren, you there? Come back to us, mate.”

Rick was waving his hand in front of my eyes. I snapped out of it, realising I had been staring dead-eyed at the rotting corpses. Beyond them was the chilled fridges and further back, where we’d find the water. There were piles of bottles and I started thinking that even with the levels of desertion and conversion rampant in the town, we may be too late to get those. We’d have to trawl around finding what we needed, coming across more of the gore of war. Much more of it.

“Let’s go around. I’m not walking anywhere near that.”

“They’re not coming back.”

“Doesn’t matter. It just freaks me the hell out. That’s something no one should ever have to see.”

“Small blessings you didn’t have to experience it. They’ve been mauled enough to not turn. I’m not getting close enough to find out why.”

“I may be a journalist but I’m not that fucking curious. Come on. We’ll go up the next aisle.”

As I suspected, when we got to the water it had been routed. At first we thought we’d come up completely empty-handed, but then Andrew got down on his hands and knees and peered to the back of the shelves.

“God bless you lazy chav bastards. Here.”

He reached out and pulled a large plastic bottle, dumping it at my feet. It was a 5 litre container of water. I hefted it. “Nice find. How many?”

“Enough for two each. 30 litres. That’s not going to keep all of us going for very long.”

“Long enough to think of a Plan B. You saw the clouds today. Maybe we can rig something up to catch rainwater. We’re not going to be able to run to the shops and pick up the daily shop every day, we need to think on our feet.”

“Fair point, well made. Come on. One in each bag – no Rick, dump the medicine out first. Then water, then the fragile stuff. Don’t want to go back to Mary with a load of boxes of powder.”

“I get it I get it. Jesus, you sound like Carla.”

We
made short work of the bag packing. I saw my bag had loops on the bottom, so hooked in another 5 litre bottle by its handle. The more the merrier – we needed to get as much possible in this run. As we headed back out, another man ran in to the front of the shop. He looked as stunned to see us as we were to run in to him. His hesitation however was short-lived and he pulled out a dangerous enough looking knife.

“Just put what you got down and get the fuck out of here. I’m taking the lot of
it and killing you. You hear me?”

I was in front of both Andrew and Rick, who bristled at the man’s arrogance. He couldn’t have been far off his forties, if that. “Put that thing away mate. There’s three of us and one of you. You see this blood on me? I’ve killed worse things than you today.”

“I’m not scared of you! You think I haven’t killed anything? I’m still alive aren’t I? I’ll do it. I’ll fucking kill you old man.”

He waved the knife at me in a wide arc. I got a good look at his pupils. They were so dilated that they were almost completely black. The crazy skinny shit was high on something. The man looked like a crystal meth throwback
and was skittering around like an angry praying mantis. How much of a risk could we take?

“You keep your voice down you lunatic. You want more of those things to show up here?”

“I don’t care, I’ll take you all on, and I’ll take you all down you hear?”

Insane. We needed him out the way, and I
didn’t think a hammer was going to put him off. “Andy? I think we need you up front here.”

“What do you mean Warren?”

I didn’t want to take my eyes of Skeletor in front of us, but Andy clearly didn’t have the gumption to simply present me with his axe. I said slowly and deliberately keeping my eyes forward. “I need help here Andy. This isn’t a job for simple DIY.”

“Hey hey hey, you’ve got your instructions mate. Put your gear down and get your arses out of here. That stuff is mine.”

I felt my limbs start to tingle with excitement as my anger and adrenalin started to build. He had some arrogance, standing there like that. But if he was as high as a kite, it was behaviour that was easily explained. Still, he wanted our things and even if we overpowered him, waving that thing around he could easily do one or all of us some kind of damage. Whilst we had Mary’s help, I didn’t fancy my chances if he got lucky and stabbed something arterial. Andy started shuffling forward. Skeletor clearly took a dislike to this.

“
Whoa, no need for you to move anywhere mate. Like I said, bags down and take the long route out. I don’t give a fuck what you run in to. You just need to make sure you don’t run in to the pointed end of this okay?”

I heard Andy drop his bag. Skele
tor shifted his eyes from me to Andy and I saw the panic register. He made a run for me, knife slashing wildly.  I scuttled backwards and Andy rushed past me, holding the axe like a rod. He took one slash to the middle of the axe, turned it around and smacked Skeletor on the side of the head. The man crumpled without a sound. Andy looked down at him in disgust.

“Well I suppose one of us has to pick him up. Any volunteers?”

“Leave him.” I answered, simple and matter-of-fact.

“What? We can’t just leave him.”

“We can, and we will. He wanted to steal our stuff and would have hurt us to get to it. What if he’d been threatening Carla? Or Anna? Any of the kids back at the pier? No way am I risking taking a junkie back to our place.”

“But… he’ll die out here Warren.”

“Good. Better people than him have died already during this plague. He can just be another statistic.”

“Warren, that’s cold.”

“But it’s the truth. Would you sleep knowing this chump was running around the pier?”

Both men looked down at Skeletor’s still frame. His cheeks were gaunt and his eye sockets sunken. His skin was red, possibly through alcoholism. There were cheap home-drawn tattoos spidered across his sallow flesh. I thought that even if left alone, even the zombies might look for something more appetising before risking this paltry morsel.

“You’re right I suppose. I don’t like it though.”

“You don’t have to like it Rick. Or you Andy. We don’t need to tell anyone about this. And it’s my decision even if anyone does find out.”

“Okay. I agree with Rick that I don’t like it. But I wouldn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. Let’s get home before anything else happens. Looks like all the bad things come out to play when the lights go out.

We picked up our bags. I winced as I hauled the straps over complaining shoulders. “Is this what army guys had to put up with all the time?”

“I think army stuff was heavier Warren.”

“Can we find some of those guys to come do the heavy lifting? I’m sure this bag is going to get in the way of my swing.”

Andy grinned at me. “Come on hard man. The apocalypse isn’t just about your zombie count you know.”

He walked on and Rick followed. I wasn’t far behind, but I had to question the flicker that rested behind Andy’s grin. It wasn’t an emotion I was used to seeing when people were dealing with me. It was fear.

+++

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend
” – Arabic proverb

Andy
was
on watch along with Gollum and Lana. It was midday. Several days of monotony and rote had passed since our first supply run and we were all sat, leaning or standing at ease in a loose circle. Some of us sipped water from small containers. Everyone had received our rations gratefully when they arrived, and Mary had almost dropped to her knees in worship when we dropped the bags of supplies at her feet. She was sitting with Anna, and Thomas was sitting in his mother’s lap looking far better than the last time I had seen him. Around us there were other children at play. The full count now that everyone had settled was clear and we were now having a group meeting to try to get a sense of stock and needs. We had a list of everyone’s essential needs and core abilities, and apart from Mary’s clear skills and the smattering of fishermen we had amongst many of the men in the group, there was nothing that we could take advantage of.

We had more women and children than we did men, but Lana and Carla were both willing to help with some of the tasks that
mothers with children to keep an eye on perhaps couldn’t deal with. Our men were myself, Rick and Andy, Austin, Pete, Gollum; Sammy, who was the wrong end of geriatric and should perhaps be left under the care of the motherhood, and Matt, who was a quiet practical type. Of all of us, fishing aside, he was the most handy. He was a jack of all trades, and had already volunteered to clean and convert the guttering to make sure we could maximise water collection from rain. He seemed timid though. So far the only ones I trusted in a fight were Andy and Rick; Rick was family, but Andy had more than earned the right with our foray in to town.

Our first topic of conversation was the swarm. We had been expecting them to move back in to the centre of town, but the wildlife on the coast was keeping them more interested in the beach than the street cobbles. We kept hoping for movement; I even hoped for other survivors to set off an alarm or even just make a mistake to keep the attention turned. Because with the swarm sitting right underneath us, our fishing was curtailed. We were running low on food, and that was only because other survivors, us included, had the foresight
to bring some supplies with us. So now we had one eye on the storm, with the other eye towards town and the potential destinations for another run.

There had been enough left in the one shop we saw in town for us to believe that a co-ordinated scavenge to all of them would be successful. The plague struck too hard and too fast for anyone to really do any worthwhile looting; most of the undead would simply not be enjoying their 3D televisions. What we had to ascertain was the food that would be best. Fresh food would now be rotting. Frozen food – we couldn’t be certain that the freezers were working, and we’d have no way to keep it here. Tinned food made the most sense. It would keep and would be easily divisible. We also had one ear to the news. Everyone had smartphones, but not everyone had means to power them. People don’t usually wander around with phone chargers in their hands.

In front of us were our phones. We were lobbying who had what devices, and how they were powered. The most prevalent connection type would win, and as part of the run we would try to find a short-term way of charging it. Short term, because we didn’t know how long the power would last. Up until now, Pete’s phone had been doing most of our information gathering. Now, we were dark, and our last update had been a regurgitation of old stories. We had all spent too long searching Facebook and looking at grotesque videos on YouTube. And as it turns out, when it comes down to apocalyptic availability, Android beats Apple. Most of the phones had little USB connections – the cables you end up having around a dozen of them lying around the house and you’re not sure what to do with them. So iPhone owners were left staring at their now-useless piles of junk as we elected to try to find chargers for the myriad of Android things we had lying around.

I threw in the suggestion of trying to find a solar charger for it. Apparently that was “a stupid idea in this backward-arse town”
. So no one wanted to think about what life would be like after the lights went out. That was reassuring. Hopefully I’d be off this godforsaken place long before that.

Austin gave us the good news that, because of the amount of goods we needed on the next run, we would need to go in a bigger group. Because of that, Gollum and Matt would be accompanying us on the next run. Both Lana and Carla protested, but were shouted down and told they would be needed on guard at the pier. It was barely a consolation and Austin obviously wanted to keep them out of sight, out of mind and as quiet as humanly possible. It probably wouldn’t be too long before Carla took a swipe at him. But now I had the pleasure
of looking forward to a supply run with two unknowns at my back, with one of them being as untrustworthy as the namesake I had privately taken to calling him. Rick met my eye and he looked as pleased as I felt. What was worse, was since we had handed over our gear, we had not seen sight of our guns. I didn’t trust what Austin might have done with them. At least Gollum didn’t have the stature to stow them away. A shotgun would look like a third limb tucked away against his spindly frame.

Outside us, the silent swarm remained an ever-present threat. Occasionally we had seen them looking up at us, but the majority of them were the silent dead and had no way of alerting their brethren to our presence. It seemed to be the still-living – at least loosely – zombies that were able to coral hunting packs with their petrifying screams. I had stood over the pier last night watching them for what seemed like hours. In the dim light of the moon they had seemed unreal. They were swaying back and forth with the tide. I had asked why they hadn’t been washed away, and was told that even at high tide, the sea wouldn’t be deep enough and the tide not strong enough for it to move them far. There would have to be something really distracting to make them go further out, and so far our men on the lookout for boats had come up clean, aside from the occasional small sailing yacht. With our numbers, it was impossible that something would come past to accommodate us all. I had no idea what would see us gain safety off the pier. We had to think of something - we could run out of resources, or we could be effectively laid to siege if the swarm moved to the wrong place. We had no Plan B this time; the pier was the end and the all of our survival plan. I had discussed this privately with Rick and Carla last night, and they were still both keen to make plans to make a break for the Downs. Apparently it was a virtual straight run from here and if we could find a car, we could be up there within fifteen minutes. I was astonished we were that close. If only Anna hadn’t driven us in the wrong direction before; but then, there were no guarantees that we would have avoided the swarm. We were, by all
accounts, still amongst the luckiest people in the country by the sheer fact that we were still alive.

But alive wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to just exist. I was worried for Carla. I hadn’t trusted Austin’s intentions since our confrontation at the gate and he had done nothing to assuage my suspicions about his intentions towards my little sister. I didn’t trust my back with Gollum, even with Rick and Andy there. I didn’t want to spend these last precious days of life constantly looking over my shoulder at the living, when the real threat was the dead. On this run, most of the able-bodied would be off the pier. Austin would virtually have the place to himself. I had no doubt Pete and Sammy would be put on to some menial tasks that had their eyes away from the women. I had already voiced my concerns on this to Rick and to Carla
but both had agreed there was nothing we could do to change the situation. Carla reassured me she still went around with a weapon hidden, and she’d be trying to use the time to find our guns. She was a bit itchy on her feet too, and wanted off the claustrophobic environment of the narrow pier.

We weren’t alone in this. Lana wanted to escape too, and Heather had voiced concerns to Anna that she didn’t feel safe there with her daughter. Anna had distanced herself from us. She felt I was too impulsive and violent, with Carla and Rick letting me get away with too much. I couldn’t argue with that. I had felt myself changing through much of this. But I can’t say I disliked it.

None of us were getting enough sleep or enough food. But I felt healthier than I ever had in my life. I felt aware and on the very edge of being alive. It was as if it took the adrenalin rush of near-death to make me appreciate the little we had in life. And with the last look I had at the statistics, we were in the lucky conservatively-put 55% of the population. Based on how many survivors we had seen here compared to the number of dead and this being a sparsely-populated town, I would theorise that as an optimistically-spun estimate. It still declared the majority of the population to be alive – just. But there was no way that could be true. The more that died, the higher the odds were stacked up against us. The only way I can explain my reaction to this is petrified calm. There was no need to turn maniacal; I’m sure too many people had already given in to their inner maelstrom and died as a result. I wanted to be like the person who had been bellowing out their collection of classical music in defiance to the end. I wanted to be the person who made a difference. Firstly, because I wanted to keep myself alive. Secondly, because I wanted to find out what caused this, and why we were being left to wallow in our own blood by the international community. And I suppose thirdly, because I wanted to keep Carla alive. And maybe Rick too. I wanted to know why the infected people that were alive were just as cannibalistic as the ones that were dead. And dead things coming back to life? That was still bizarre to contemplate. Cinematic history had lain some good groundwork for a basic “How To” on how to cope, and this had stood us in good stead so far. But I think we’d done the community work for long enough. I had neither the temerity nor the patience to stand as watchman and nursemaid to a group of fragile clucking hens, whilst the Fat Controller prowled around them deciding which one he would try to mate with next.

The other thing that had made the most difference: the Rat Race was dead. It was dead for all of us, pretty much literally. I hadn’t thought about my bank account. I hadn’t thought about my job. I hadn’t thought about things that I wanted to buy for my flat that I didn’t
need, and things I needed to buy for my flat that I couldn’t afford. I hadn’t worried about going in to an office that was depressing to please people that I didn’t like. The only thing I had liked about my job was the job itself; I was a good journalist. I enjoyed the front line. The rest of it? The environment? It all sucked balls. But now, I was revelling in this new life. Andy’s look of fear, I had decided it was one of respect. I was someone that was getting things done and making the hard decisions that no one else wanted to do. My career was virtually built on pissing people off; it wasn’t a problem for me to grind my heel in to get where I wanted or needed. Not everyone had that ruthless streak; some people probably had too much than was safe. Not that I considered myself perfect. But left to their own devices, Rick and Andy would have brought that druggie back to the pier. Not everyone needed to be kept alive.

I phased back in to the conversation. It hadn’t moved on very far.
No one seemed to want anything to move very far in this place.

The consensus was that we’d all go on the run tomorrow at dusk. This appeared to be the favoured time for us to go out in to the town and attempt to kill ourselves.
We had told no one about the druggie and no one had asked any questions. Carla had quietly taken away my blood-stained shirt and it had come back to me damp but reasonably clean. I hadn’t looked at it again. I wasn’t keen on putting on a potentially infected shirt, no matter what she told me she had cleaned it with. As Austin reeled off our precise itinerary along with the agreed scavenge list, my mind wandered off again. I found the man nauseatingly boring. I enjoyed a brief fantasy of holding him by his ankles over the pier at a freakishly-odd high tide. The floating zombies were like bobbing piranha, taking a nip here and a nip there, stripping off long painful strips of tender flesh and eventually peeling him down to his bone and marrow. It was a shame that only Britain’s Strongest Men had the upper tensile strength for that kind of feat. Next to him Gollum was huddled over. His shoulders kept jiggling up and down as if he were giggling. I expected him to start hissing at any second. Most of the women appeared to avoid the both of them. I couldn’t say I blamed them, and attributed most of the change in attitude to Carla’s standing in the mother hendom. When he looked at me his personal cloud of glee appeared to evaporate. He stood up straight and tried to catch Austin’s attention. He was shaken off, but I was aware then that I’d been staring. I arranged my face in to something less murderous and tried to pay attention. It was hard though, knowing the swarm was outside and my immediate fate was being decided by an overweight pervert who most likely wanted me dead.

Carla was sitting next to me and squeezed my leg. I looked at her and she gave me an affectionate smile. She had seen the looks I’d been throwing all afternoon, and I’d regaled her on more than one occasion on what I thought of our new bedfellows whenever we got a quiet chance. Not that there was much room for private and personal space around here. My mind snapped around when Austin mentioned my name.

“… and as Warren appears to be the reconnaissance expert around here, I’m going to ask him to just go through is plans with you all.”

“My plans?”