Zombie Dawn Outbreak (7 page)

“Chris? You’re an hour late for work, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You would think the world was in danger from the lack of Chris’s presence, but no, he was just late for more endlessly pointless and boring work.

“I don’t care how rough you feel, you didn’t call in sick, stop giving me excuses and take some responsibility, get here now!”

Jones slammed the phone down and walked out of the room, clearly going to ensure Chris had the hour docked from his salary, and a mark against his record. Another two hours went by, sweat dripped from Dave’s face on to his poorly ironed white shirt. He mindlessly entered data, not even sure anymore if the work actually achieved anything, or if he was simply employed for the sake of it. Perhaps its purpose was to fulfil some requirement of the business, or maybe to help avoid the upper management assholes some tax that they should be paying. The reason for his work simply didn’t matter anymore, he got paid, that was all that was important, and at least he had a job.

Desperate for the toilet, having drunk too much coffee to try and survive the morning, Dave walked off to the men’s room. Standing at the urinal he sighed in relief, it was the best feeling all day. Walking over to the wash basins he looked out the window down onto the street below. An ambulance and police car were parked up on the pavement, lights still flashing. Two coppers nearby were beating a man on the floor with their truncheons.

“Bastards, if only I could get my hands on you,” said Dave.

He left the toilets and headed back to his desk. Despite still being in full stride, he was simply on autopilot. Dave was day dreaming, just thinking of Stallone in Rambo II shooting up the office with his M60. It was a pleasant thought, and one he only wished he could replicate. Getting back to his desk, the bored IT worker slumped back into his chair, back to the boring reality of work.

Chris finally walked into the office, he was pale and even sweatier than the rest, he looked terrible, but no one spoke a word to him. Nobody wanted to risk having a verbal beating from Jones. Finally, it was lunch time. Not a second had gone past twelve before the entire room stood and headed for the canteen.

“Chris, you haven’t put an ounce of work into this day, you can use your lunch break to make up at least some of the time you’ve lost,” said Jones.

What a swine, everyone thought it, no one said it. The room cleared as Chris sat back down, he really was ill enough that he should be at home, but Jones wouldn’t let that fact reduce his bad attitude. To be fair, his sickness was probably self-inflicted. You cannot expect to rush off for a drunken weekend and then return on a Monday morning in a workable state. None of this changed the fact that Jones was a complete nob.

In the canteen Dave sat down with the two colleagues that he at least had some interest in talking to, Barry and James. The three sat around a table, unpacking the contents of the plastic lunch boxes all had brought, as they always did. Half an hour went by of chatting about the usual topics, cars and women. The lunch breaks were the only bearable part of the job, when friends could relax and talk as they wanted. However, they were always too aware that Jones would listen in on a regular basis, desperately trying to dig new dirt on his slaves for later use.

Bristol, England

It had been a long morning when Gary and Matt pulled up at McDonalds to get their lunch. The two police officers had worked together for two years now, quickly becoming close friends, both men were in their thirties. Gary had joined the force with images of high speed chases and action. He loved his action movies and his treasured Ducati superbike. The reality of the job was that he’d never handled a gun and was behind the wheel of a diesel Vauxhall Astra. McDonalds was a completely unglamorous way to spend their break, but it was a routine that they’d fallen into.

The two men got out of their car and strolled over to the front door of the fast food chain. They both wore high visibility stab vests over white shirts. It was too hot for jumpers.

“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” said Matt.

“Know what you mean, mate,” said Gary.

Getting through the glass doors they were confronted with a large queue, they could already feel the gazing stares upon them. Children looked at them out of interest, adults out of disgust, they didn’t care.

“Fuck me, I’m starving,” said Matt.

“Easy on the language mate, there are kids about,” said Gary.

“Nothing they haven’t heard before, I’m sure,” said Matt.

Gary said no more, he knew it was useless arguing with his friend. Matt often got the two of them into trouble as he would rush headlong into every situation and show few common courtesies.

“Get up to much on the weekend?” asked Matt.

“Went for a ride, took my son to the zoo, watched some TV, that’s about it, you?” asked Gary.

“Not a lot, spent most of it watching Dave,” said Matt.

“What a waste,” said Gary.

“What?” asked Matt.

“Well all you do is whine all week that you’re bored and then you get to the weekend and do nothing,” said Gary.

“Ah, fuck it,” said Matt.

They’d been waiting for just two minutes, but it felt much longer. They were almost at the front of the queue when the radio on Gary’s chest rung out, the unpleasant sound of their lunch break about to be spoiled.

“Fuck me,” said Matt.

“Hang on, mate,” said Gary.

“We have a riot in progress at the University of the West of England, Frenchay Campus, all officers report immediately to their stations for briefing,” the despatch officer said.

“Hell yeah, we may get to beat some student skulls in, that’s worth missing lunch for!” said Matt.

The people in the queue around the officers looked at Matt in outrage. They couldn’t say anything against the authorities without causing themselves difficulty. Gary felt ashamed to be in his friend’s presence at this time, but he knew there was nothing he could do or say to either calm the situation or change Matt. In all honesty, despite Gary not liking Matt’s verbal response, the opportunity of some action was an appealing one. The two men rushed out of the establishment to their car.

Gary leapt into the driving seat and put his foot to the floor. The small diesel engine was nothing special, but the officers had learned to ring every last drop of power from it. The front wheels squealed as they screamed out of the car park. Matt hit the lights and siren whilst Gary passed through every red light, fully enjoying doing so. Within minutes the men were at their station, eagerly running through the front doors. The station was a small one with just eight field officers on duty. They were greeted by their sergeant, Richards.

“Gary, Matt, get your gear on sharpish, you have five minutes,” said Richards.

The two men rushed to their lockers. Their riot gear was thrown in there untidily, they’d never had much use for it. Neither of them had worn riot kit since training and they quickly put it all on. It was the fastest the two men had done anything in their job, finally finding motivation when a few skulls needed beating. After just a few minutes the two men were fully kitted and ready to move. They had full riot protection on, helmets in hand. They followed the sergeant and other men to one of the vans and jumped in. The van raced off with the blue lights flashing.

“So what’s the deal Sarge?” asked Matt.

“All we know is that a riot has broken out at the university campus. The first officers on the scene came under attack and have not been in contact. We don’t know the reason for the riot or the current status.”

“So we’re going in blind?” asked Gary.

“Exactly, a number of other forces will be joining us there. Firearms units have been called in, but we don’t have an ETA on them as yet,” said Richards.

“So do we have any idea on the number of rioters?” asked Gary.

“No. Our job is to contain the scenario and assist any officers still on the scene,” said Richards.

“Are we authorised to strike first?” asked Gary.

“No, we wall off the area and take it from there,” said Richards.

“Fucking great, so our guys get the shit kicked out of them, but we can’t return the favour?” asked Matt.

“Stop that shit, Matt, we have a job to do, we’re professionals. I expect all of you to be on top form and to obey the law and my command!” shouted Richards.

The next five minutes of the journey to the university were a mix of emotions. The adrenaline was fuelling all of the men, but the lack of information also worried them. In this age of communication and technology they were not used to going into a major disturbance and with such little info.

Looking out of the window of the van, they were just a few hundred yards from the scene now. A small number of people were running or staggering away with torn, blood stained clothes. Clearly this was not a peaceful protest.

Finally the van came to a halt at the small roundabout which led to the campus entrance and the eight men got out of the vehicle. Each was equipped from head to toe in their standard riot control equipment. They also carried translucent round shields and batons. Richards had the loudhailer in hand and looked out at the scene of horror.

A crowd of people were walking slowly towards them, many covered in blood. They weren’t carrying banners or shouting abuse, it was an eerie scene. None of the men other than the sergeant had experience of a riot, but all knew too well that this was no ordinary scene.

“This is the police, stop where you are!” shouted Richards down the loudhailer.

There was no answer from the crowd who simply shambled on towards them, now two hundred yards away. Everything about this scene unsettled the men, but they stood their ground. A second police van raced on to the scene, seven men joining the group.

“What the fuck is going on?” asked Matt.

“I don’t know, Gary, take the loudhailer, see what you can do,” said Richards.

The sergeant ran to the second vehicle to make contact with the new officers.

“Chaps, I cannot tell you anything more about this than you already know and can see, please get in front of our van and bolster my men, I’m going to see if I can get some contact with despatch. I don’t know what’s going on here but it’s going to get bad,” said Richards.

The new coppers simply nodded and ran to join the other officers. They likely would have had a lot more questions had they seen the crowd bearing down on the first group. Richards jumped into the van they’d come in.

“Despatch, we have a situation here, please advise,” said Richards.

“Rioting has spread across the city, the station is under attack, we’ll not hold out for long,” said the despatch officer.

“Tina, is that you? What the fuck is going on?” shouted Richards.

“I honestly don’t know, people have gone crazy, they’ve broken through the doors! Good luck, Sir,” said the despatch officer.

“Tina? Tina!” shouted Richards.

There was no response. He jumped out of the vehicle and walked in front of his men. Gary was still shouting at the crowd in an attempt to make them stop.

“Our station is under attack by rioters like this. Only, I am not convinced these are rioters. This problem has spread across the city like wildfire. We’re now on our own. We can either stay and fight or try and help the staff left at our station.”

“Let’s get back to base, work out what the fuck is going on,” said Gary.

Richards looked at the sergeant of the other group.

“I suggest you attend to your own people,” said Richards.

“Agreed, good luck,” said the sergeant.

The two groups piled into their vehicles and were again on the move, just thirty yards away from the crowd that was bearing down on them. The tyres screeched as both vans rushed off.

“What the fuck is going on?” asked Matt.

“No idea, it’s like the city has gone mad, civilians are attacking and killing people. We no longer have any control,” said Richards.

“So, what, the country has suddenly gone to war with itself?” asked Gary.

“It would seem so. Communication lines have broken down, I’d heard of unusual isolated reports of attacks leading up to this afternoon, it’s likely related,” said Richards.

“What do we do?” said Gary.

“Let’s get back to the station and see what we can do to help,” said Richards.

“And what about the fuckers who want to hurt us?” said Matt.

“Don’t hit first, but respond if attacked,” said Richards.

Gary looked out of the window. Despite the van being pushed to beyond the speed limits, cars were passing them. Clearly nobody cared for the law anymore. They reached a roundabout, stopping to check if they could drive on. A saloon on the roundabout veered out of control whilst taking the bends too fast and clipped a white van, sending it tumbling into the police vehicle. The officers’ van was thrown onto its side. It was only fortunate that they had their helmets still on that saved Garry and Matt serious injury. Gary came to his senses a few minutes later. He looked around. Four of the eight officers had been killed outright by the van which had collided with the side of their vehicle at high speed. He could feel aches and pains running through his body. The sliding door to the van was open, facing up to the sky. Gary could see that Richards was stood on top of the vehicle getting access to the driver’s compartment. He looked around and could see Matt next to him, eyes shut but he wasn’t moving. He tapped his friend’s helmet.

“Matt! Matt!” shouted Gary.

His friend awoke, still dazed.

“What happened?” asked Matt.

“We were hit by a van, we have to move!” said Gary.

He got up and helped Matt to his feet. They grabbed a few shields and batons and threw them out the open hatch onto the road before heaving themselves out. Richards was trying to pull the body of the driver, Jacob, out of his seat.

“What are you doing?” asked Gary.

“Jacob is dead, but Rob is stuck down there in the passenger seat, give me a hand,” said Richards.

It was a dreadful thing to have to do. All of them were friends, and they had been talking to Jacob just minutes before. Now they had to haul his dead body out of a wrecked vehicle, to be tossed aside. Gary took hold of Jacob’s body armour with Richards and yanked his body out of the cab, tumbling it off the vehicle onto the road. They reached in and pulled Rob up out of the vehicle. His leg was cut and bleeding.