The Afflicted: A Zombie Novel (2 page)

He
retched, spitting grimy saliva onto the tarmac, and slowly lifted himself up onto his knees. Various things dropped down around him from above, pieces of metal and lumps of flesh. Wreckage from the explosion was scattering itself around, falling from the sky like heavy snow. A metal seat from the aircraft landed in front of him with a screeching crash, and he jerked instinctively away from it. The seat was charred and smoking. Evan scanned his eyes over the remains of someone still trapped in the seat by the seatbelt, barely recognisable as once a human being. The seatbelt was bizarrely intact, yet the torso it was keeping prisoner was not. The body was black and still smoking. Below the knee, both legs were amputated with such a clean slice; he guessed something in the explosion must have scythed them off. The arm sockets were empty, presumably blown off in the explosion too. He couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. The head was torched beyond any hope of recognition. Its cracked skin was pure black, the hair singed away to nothing, the ears completely gone. Its lips were peeled back like overcooked sausages, exposing a mouthful of bloody broken teeth. Where the eyes should be, were two dark, empty holes. Evan felt as if he was looking into the pits of hell. He didn’t feel pity or grief. He felt nothing. He couldn’t.

He retched
again but had nothing to bring up. Evan shook his head and tears came to him. Where were the emergency services? He was shaking, shit-scared and bruised all over. What about his son, his family? He gingerly stood up and composed himself, mentally checking himself over. At least nothing was broken. His body ached and it felt as if his head had been used as a football.

Evan heard a faint metallic clang as the metal seat rolled
forward on the concrete. The body seemed to shudder as if it were somehow trying to cling onto the last remnants of life. The charred remains shivered and then stilled. Evan frowned. He, she, whatever it was, had to be dead. He was about to approach the burnt creature when a sharp cry from above stopped him.

A
murder of crows circled overhead. One of the crows swooped down and landed at his feet. It pierced a fresh hunk of meat with its beak and greedily tried to swallow it whole. Another landed beside it and began cawing loudly. For a second, its cawing blurred in with the screams of the people around Evan, becoming one terrifying shrill noise, two of God’s creatures crying out: one in torment, one in salacious greed for the raw meat it was feasting on.

He turned and saw one of the flight attendants. She was kneeling over the young boy he had seen earlier. The boy’s teeth were ripping apart the woman’s face with
terrifying ferociousness whilst his arms firmly held her head down. The woman was trying to stand but the dead boy wouldn’t let go. They were locked together as if in a passionate embrace. Evan heard the metallic clang of the metal seat behind him but was dumbstruck by what he was witnessing. The flight attendant’s screams subsided as the boy dragged her down to the ground, a bloody mangled mess where her face used to be. Overawed, Evan was rooted to the spot with shock.

A
n old man raced past him. As he did so, the old lady in the grey tracksuit who had died in front of Evan a few minutes ago, reached out a hand and sent the old man stumbling to the ground.

“Oh my G
od, Macy, is that you?”

The old man was wide-eyed at the sight of the
old lady next to him in the dirt.

“Thank God!
I can’t believe it, I thought you were...” As the man reached for his beloved, she responded by grabbing his fingers and biting them off with a surging, powerful snap of her jaws. The old man fell backwards, crying out in pain, and hiding the clang of metal once again behind Evan. Oblivious to the absurdity and danger of what was happening, the old man, clutching his bloodied stump, crawled over the grass toward his wife.

“
Shit, what’s wrong with you, Macy?” He began, but his question was left hanging in the air as she raised herself up off the ground and towering over him, ripped out her husband’s throat. Sinews stretched taut, her sharp fingernails dug into his neck and she greedily shoved her face into the bloody wound, drinking her dying husband’s blood and devouring the soft human tissue.

The
cawing of the crows behind Evan suddenly silenced. One bird flew past him up into the sky and he turned around as the woman in the green top he had lain next to earlier, snapped a crow’s neck with one swift movement. He frowned as she began gnawing at the stump of its neck, blood pouring down through silky, black, matted feathers, stickily dribbling down the woman’s chin. The other crows circled overhead, black eyes watching over their deceased comrade.

Evan turned to
face the burning plane. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He could not believe the horror spreading out in front of him. The people he had been running toward to help were now in pieces, scattered over the runway, bits of bloodied limbs strewn around like confetti. The dead boy was apparently feasting on the flight attendant. The old lady, resurrected, was now pulverising her dead husband’s body, pummelling it into the ground. His mind raced as he remembered his son’s phone call.

“I’m scared
. I’m scared.”

The words flew around inside his head like
an angry wasp that demanded escape. He had to get out of here and find that boat. He had to find his family. Incredibly, there were people ahead of him wandering around: survivors? He saw a small black girl in pigtails and a yellow, flowery dress. She reached down to the ground, picked up an arm, and began gnawing at it like a dog with a bone. A man next to her, in a garish Hawaiian shirt and shorts, was smearing something around his face, leaving red trails behind like a disgusting slug. The man’s shirt was blowing open, exposing a fat belly. His gut had been slit open and the man’s intestines slithered out slowly. Evan saw more people around them: men, women and children, ambling around in a stupor, all acting the same. They were survivors in a sense, but not like Evan.

S
ome of them were clearly injured, some so badly that they should not be able to move. One young man had no arms, and his head was bent at such an angle that there was no way he could be alive, but he was walking around! His face seemed almost to be grinning. The pigtailed girl noticed Evan and started toward him, arms stretched out. The others too, some carrying body parts, motioned toward him. A girl, barely a teenager, was dragging herself along the ground. Her fists slapped against the blackened tarmac with each heave, whilst she left behind her, a trail of slimy blood where her legs used to be. She was naked, her back criss-crossed with blood splatter and shards of glass protruding like masts. Her eyes were focused on Evan. It was as if she was driven by anger or hatred. Her eyes burned fiercely through him as she advanced upon him.

Overwhelmed
, Evan spun around to run, to escape this absurd scene of death and carnage and to find his family, wherever that might be. Amid all the screams and commotion of the explosion, he hadn’t noticed the metal clanging behind him getting louder, as the burnt corpse in the seat rocked closer. Evan immediately tripped over it and smacked once more into the filthy runway. Amazingly, the limbless creature was rocking back and forth in the seat, in violent frustration. It was imprisoned by the seatbelt and couldn’t free itself. Desperately, Evan got to his feet and stumbling away from the smouldering monster, turned straight into the face of a young child. It was the dead boy with the teddy bear, now covered head to toe in bloody gore and the last straggly remnants of the stewardess.

The boy
’s brown eyes moved slowly down from Evan’s face, over his body, until they reached Evan’s legs. The boy grabbed Evan’s leg and thrust forward to bite, eager for more flesh. Evan managed to grab the boy by the neck and hold him back. The boy’s grip was firm and surprisingly strong for a dead six-year old. Evan could hear the scraping and shuffling noises of the approaching dead getting closer.

“Help!
Help me!” Evan screamed, vociferously.

No
one answered his calls. He heard a set of footsteps running close by, but they did not pause and quickly faded away. Evan was sweating, his arms shaking as he kept the boys chomping jaws at bay. With one free hand, he reached over to the edge of the aircraft seat. He pulled on the seatbelt dangling down and the frayed end tore free from the seat. The charred corpse fell out of the seat, inches away from Evan. With a surge of energy, he thrust the boy’s face upward and kicked it hard, sending the boy tumbling over backwards. Evan clutched the seatbelt and whirled it in front of him, metal clasp winging through the air. The dead boy, ignoring it, jumped up and began walking toward Evan again. Its eyes were black and soul-less, yet locked onto Evan. The dead boy was unwavering, like a lion stalking its prey.

The metal buckle smacked into the side of the boy’s head uselessly.
The dead boy didn’t even flinch. Evan knew the seatbelt was useless, and scanning around quickly, saw a piece of metal on the ground, an armrest thrown from the plane. He lunged for it just as the dead boy groped for Evan again. Collapsing in a heap together, Evan gripped the armrest and swung it at the boys head as he prepared to take a chunk out of Evan’s leg. The blow made the boy pause long enough for Evan to muster enough energy to swing again. The second blow knocked the boy off of him. Evan felt vibrations shoot up his arm as the strong metal whacked into the boys soft skull. Blood and hair flew aside, yet somehow the boy still had one hand clutching Evan’s ankle. It was determined to attack. Evan smashed the metal armrest into the boy’s skull again and saw it crack open, exposing brain. Blood gushed down the boy’s face. Evan’s eyes were stinging with salty sweat from his brow. His head was pounding. He raised his arms high and repeatedly brought the armrest down on the boy, caving in its skull until it finally relinquished its deathly grip on him and stayed still. The teddy bear lay on the ground, grinning at Evan.

Evan wanted to spit, to rid himself of the sick taste in his mouth, but his throat was dry and coarse. He
stood up. The others were close now, the pigtailed girl mere feet away. He could not face anymore, could not think anymore. Trembling with adrenalin, he ran. He fled down the tarmac, jumping over body parts and debris, away from the plane. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew he had to get away from here and figure out what was happening. Where were the police, the authorities? How could this be happening? Dead people attacking the living just did not happen.

He saw the terminal in the distance and headed in its direction. He desperately needed help and rest. Someone had to know what was going on. Weren’t there armed police at airports now? He ran
fast and hard, trying to forget the pain blasting into his brain from all over: his arms, his legs, his chest, and his head. Evan was lost. He couldn’t remember who he was or where he was. He turned briefly to look behind him. Yellow lines flew around the tarmac like limp spaghetti, and the walking dead were coming directly for him. They seemed too slow to keep pace with him. He saw no one that looked alive and there were no pleas for help. The screams of the dying had been replaced by the silence of the dead. They continued shuffling toward him, enveloped by the blue sky above and the burning plane. He ran. 

CHAPTER TWO

As Evan approached the terminal, he began to realise why nobody had come to their aid. Through the glass windows up high, he could make out people fighting and running. Arcs of blood sprayed across walls and windows. Muffled, distant traces of sporadic gunfire came from somewhere deeper inside the terminal. He glanced up at a huge jumbo jet as he ran past it, the undercarriage open, ready for bags to be loaded or unloaded. The windows above were lit up with brilliant sunlight shining through, and yet, he could see no sign of life. It looked as if a bomb had exploded inside. Every single window was smeared blood red. There was no movement from inside the plane.

On the ground
, outside the terminal building, there were a few people, but alive or dead was a question he could not answer. Dressed in overalls or luminous hi-visibility jackets, they were evidently all airport workers of some sort. They were shambling about with no evident reason or purpose: their clothes were torn and grubby. Evan slowed to a walking pace. Whether it was the noise of the explosion or his presence, he didn’t know, but they were all staggering toward him now. Fuck it, he thought.

“
Hey! Anyone alive here? We need help,” Evan shouted. No one answered him. From their movements and appearance, it soon became clear that they were all dead. God knows why, but they were still moving. He wasn’t sure now what to do. A dead baggage-handler was getting close and Evan noticed the man’s neck was broken. His throat was split open and drying blood had turned the yellow jacket a sickly orange. The man’s eyes were lifeless, his face blank and pale with the slackness of death. Yet Evan sensed this man was looking at him. It was unnerving. He turned away and ran for an unmarked door that seemed to lead into the terminal. It was heavy and despite pushing and pulling it, he couldn’t make it budge. His legs felt as if dead weights and his knees were shaking from the physical punishment his body was taking. He gave up on the door and jogged alongside the building, away from the deadly mob, past plain walls until he eventually reached another door. The door was ajar, spilling light outside onto the tarmac beneath the shadow of another jumbo. Evan pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was a departure gate
and there was a huge number seven on the wall in front of him. It only took a second for him to realise the room was a dead end. Solid blank walls, splattered with hair, gristle, and blood, seemed to mock him for thinking he could escape. A wave of nausea passed over him when he saw the bodies. He was confronted with a shocking sight. There were a hundred people, or more, literally piled up in the corner of the room. He guessed a panic had caused a mass crush. The door at the other end of the waiting room was blocked. He could barely see it and there was certainly no way he could get to it now. A young couple was sitting in the middle of the room, evidently munching on eviscerated limbs. They stood up menacingly when Evan walked in. He turned to leave and found the doorway blocked by a huge figure. He recoiled as a grotesque dead man, arms flailing, reached for Evan. Evan took a step back, aware that he was cornered. He couldn’t dig his way out through the mass of corpses, so he had to fight his way back out of the door to the runway. Panicking, he looked around for a weapon.

There was precious little at hand but
there were some stanchions tethered together by the ticket desk. He ran to it and lunged for one of the stanchions, grabbing a metal pole and yanking it out of its heavy base, the leathery belt slipping out just as the first of the couple reached him. Evan flinched at the gruesome sight. The approaching man had no eyes, they had been gouged out and eaten along with half the man’s face, yet he still knew where Evan was.

Evan swung the heavy pole with both hands, crashing it into the young man’s head.
The pole struck the man’s head with enough force to send him flying backward. Evan saw the lumbering giant from the doorway approaching but the man’s dead girlfriend charged Evan; arms outstretched, hands taught, fingers tense and nail sharp, careening toward his face with one aim. He barely had enough time to swing the pole again. Evan managed to hit her arms, shattering both her wrists, making her swerve off course. He ducked as she flew past him, teeth gnashing and biting as she whisked past his head. She landed in a heap and Evan swung around to face the behemoth. Evan could smell the man, the stench of death intermingling with rank body odour.

It crossed Evan’s mind at first to warn the man off
, but then reality sunk in. He knew it would be pointless. The immense man standing before him was clearly dead. Half of his face had been chewed off, exposing his upper jaw, scraps of pink flesh hanging in shreds between his incisors. His shirt had been slashed open exposing his torso, which was cut to ribbons. Evan could see the man’s ribcage and he felt his stomach turn. Sweat beginning to sting his eyes, Evan swung the heavy stanchion as hard as he could. He connected with the man’s temple but the towering man only tottered and kept coming. Evan swung again, but the man raised his hands and Evan, growing weak, fumbled and dropped the stanchion, watching it roll away and out of reach. The man’s hands grabbed Evan’s shoulders. The giant’s mouth opened, as if he was going to swallow Evan whole like in a grim fairy tale. Evan tried to repel the man and took hold of his arms, but the man-mountain retained his strength even in death, and Evan knew he was going to lose this fight. He heard the snarl behind him of the woman he had dodged and in the corner of his eye, could see the other young man rapidly bearing down on him.

“I’m scared. I’m scared.”

The words pinged back into Evan’s head and he knew he couldn’t give up, couldn’t die like this. He let go of the grasping arms and punched the man’s ribs as hard as he could. The man paused just long enough for Evan to grab hold of the man’s ribs with both hands. He pulled as hard as he could and one bloody rib snapped, breaking off with a disgusting, wet cracking sound. Dripping with blood, he thrust the rib into the man’s left eye and pushed him back toward the door. The reeling giant tripped over the discarded pole and fell like a redwood. His flailing arms pulled Evan on top of him, which drove the rib deeper through the man’s eye-socket and into his brain. Through gritted teeth, Evan kept his grip firm, shoving the rib into the man’s face further and further until the monster’s grip relinquished and it lay still, occasionally twitching.

Evan felt fingers on his ankles and kicked back. His feet connected with the jaw of the
young man just in time to stop him from biting. Jumping up, he grabbed the dropped pole from the ground and charged. Swinging it above him, he brought it crashing down onto the young man’s lolling head. There was a solid crunching sound as the dead man’s skull split open. Brain tissue spattered Evan’s face and blood splattered his jacket. He didn’t wait to see if the man was dead, but swung again, not aiming, just swiping through the air frenziedly. The young woman had regained her feet and was inches away. Amazingly, the woman ducked. Evan realised he did not need to fight; he would only end up attracting more of these things and getting stuck in here until they overpowered him. He threw the pole at her, turned, and ran out of the now clear doorway.

He
sprinted out of the building, away from the woman and the curious mob of dead outside who were now approaching fast. Evan ran straight into the blinding late-afternoon sunlight. He wiped his brow, plastering sweat and blood across his forehead. Through aching eyes, he spied a small hangar a little way over the runway and ran headlong for the building’s door. There was a car parked outside and he prayed someone would be inside the building, or that at least the door would be unlocked. Reaching it, he grappled with the door handle but it stayed shut. He banged rapidly on the hangar door in frustration.

“Hey, anyone in there?
Let me in! Hey!”

There w
ere scuffling sounds and muffled voices behind the door. Finally, a faint voice said, “Go away.”

Evan continued to beat on the door.

“Let me in, please. I’m on my own. Just let me in!”

A moment or two later
, the door suddenly flew open. A male voice said, “Get in, quick.”

Evan ran into the
gloomy hangar and the door slammed shut behind him. It felt dark and cold after being in the hot sunshine. He heard the door being locked and bolted. There was a jet in front of him, reflecting the sunlight coming in from the only open skylight above. Various boxes and shelves were stacked around the walls. Save some dim light coming into the hangar from one skylight in the ceiling, there were no other windows or doors that he could see. The man who had opened the door approached Evan, cautiously.

“You al
l right, mate? You look like shit. Here, sit down,” and he pulled a wooden crate over, which Evan slumped onto gratefully.

“Thanks,” panted Evan
, as he took in his surroundings. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on out there, but thanks for letting me in.”

His head was t
hrobbing and now he could relax to some degree, he felt incredibly weary. Instead of being charged by adrenalin, he felt like curling up into a ball and closing his eyes. He took in the man who had opened the door. A little older than Evan, he was wearing a black suit and shoes. He was paunch and showing a few wrinkles around the eyes but he looked trustworthy, the sort of man who would give you his last dollar.

“I’m Joe. Take it easy for a minute
, eh? We didn’t think anyone else was out there. Well, not alive anyway.” 

Almost on cue
, there came banging sounds from the door. Not as urgent as Evan’s, but insistent. The noise spread around the building. Thumps and moans accompanied by pathetic scraping sounds on the walls, all echoing eerily around the cool hangar. A tall blonde woman in a sharp business suit appeared out of the shadows and strode up to Evan.

“Who are you? You shouldn’t be here. You’ve put me
, and my children, in danger.”

Her face was stern, her eyes glaring
, and she folded her arms as she spoke. Her confidence belied her years. She looked as if she was barely out of her twenties, thought Evan. Too much make-up and aggressiveness plastered over what was actually a pretty face. If these two were a couple, mused Evan, they were an odd fit.

Behind her, Evan could
vaguely make out a young boy and girl cowering in a dark corner, presumably her children. He wondered if they were more scared of what was outside the door, or their mother.

“
Evan Crow. So I guess it was you who told me to go away? Look, sorry, but I’m not going out there in a hurry. Have you seen what’s happening?” he asked her, incredulous.

“Mrs
Craven, just calm down,” Joe began, “I think we can all wait in here safely until...”

“Until what?” she interrupted. “Just remember who pays your wages, Joe.”
As she spoke, her face turned crimson.  

“Thanks to you
, we’re stuck in here for God knows how long. Now this stranger wanders by and you just let him in. Perhaps we should open the door for everyone to come in? Should we let all those people banging on the door in? I don’t think so.

“
Right now, Joe, you need to stop thinking, and start taking care of my family as you’re paid to. We don’t pay you to
think
, we pay you to
do
. And you haven’t done a very good job of late. As for you, Mr Crow,” she spat his name out as she said it, “as soon as this mess is sorted out, you can be on your way. And stay away from me and my family.”

Speech over, she returned
to the young children in the shadows. She disappeared into the corner and Evan could only see their shadows now. Joe sat down beside Evan.

“So
rry about her, mate,” he said, sighing. He frowned with concern at Evan’s ragged appearance.

“
Karyn Craven, my boss. Well, by default. I work for her husband, Pete, really.”

Joe looked over th
e newcomer with curiosity. Looks as if he’s been to hell and back, he thought. Evan was covered in blood, his clothes were ripped to pieces, and he smelt strongly of fuel and vomit.

“N
ice suit. So where did you come from, the terminal? Do you work here? It’s chaos from what we saw. We barely managed to make it in here.”

Evan wiped his
brow, only making his face even dirtier.

“I’m not really sure
, but I think I was on that plane. I just woke up on the runway out there. Then the plane exploded and...I don’t know. I just ran and ended up here. There are things out there. People, but, they’re dead. Only they’re not.” Evan felt dizzy. “My head...” he began, trying to hold himself together. “Do you have any water?”

Joe disappeared momentarily and came back with a small bottle. It was
warm, but Evan drank it down gratefully.

“Thought you might want these too?” and Joe held out two tablets in his hands.
“Aspirin. There’s a first aid kit on the wall there. You look pretty banged up, mate.”

As Eva
n swallowed the pills, Joe continued.

“We heard the explosion from in here.
Shook the whole bloody building, freaked the kids right out. I thought it must be one of the planes coming down. Did you see anyone else out there?”