The Undead. The First Seven Days (14 page)

I head into the staff toilet and take a long piss; my urine is dark.
  They had a urine colour chart on the wall of the male staff toilets in the supermarket. If your urine was too dark, it meant you were dehydrated.

Drink more water and stay healthy
.

I need to drink more water. I should prepare my journeys now and plan accordingly. I need another bag to carry water in and supplies, and more weapons - definitely more weapons.
  I go back out onto the shop floor and, once again, inch forward until I am in the same spot, peeking out between long dresses. The undead have gone. I can’t see any now.
  I check my watch. It has just gone 2.30 a.m. I must have dozed off for a couple of hours. I feel better, but my mouth feels furry, and I need to brush my teeth. Again, I chastise myself for not thinking about this before. Washing, eating and getting water – all are important now.

Once satisfied that the front is clear, I move off deeper into the store. The men’s section is tiny in comparison to the main area and is sectioned off by high display walls.
  I walk through and I’m completely blocked from the window in this area, so I can move with more ease. I am looking for another pair of jeans – ones that would be more my size - but all I can see are skinny jeans or brown trousers with a massive,
saggy arse
look.
  I need dark clothing that I can move quickly in. I find some black utility trousers; pockets on the sides - like combat trousers. These are fashionable with bits of material hanging off. I find my size and try them on. They have a belt supplied and fit well. I yank off the hanging material strips and loops until they look fairly normal.
  My trainers are filthy and are covered in dried blood, so I next head for the shoes section; but they only have thin, plimsoll type fashion shoes; like those nasty black things we had to wear for PE at school. There is one pair of boots, but they are high with big heels and designed to be worn with the sides hanging down. No good.
  On to upper garments and I find a thin, long sleeved, black top with a hood.

The bags are no good either… they are old-fashioned, explorer type bags with thin straps. They look great but not practical and no good for running with. Then, changing my mind, I take one of the dark brown explorer bags and find new boxer shorts and socks. I pull the packaging free and stuff several pairs of each into the bag. Then I put another of the same tops in - after pulling off the tags.
  Finally, I put a slightly thicker jumper in the bag too. I go back into the staff room and use the small sink to wash my body and change my underwear.
  Dressed again, I feel better, cleaner and more prepared. I will need sturdier shoes though. I have had to use my feet several times already to kick at undead, and these flimsy trainers don’t give any protection.

The
Tesco
supermarket, where I work, isn’t too far away. It’s open 24 hours, so it would have been open when this started on Friday night.
  It will surely be infested, but then there is a rear staff door with a keypad entry system. I know the building like the back of my hand, and I should be able to get in and out quickly.
  The home delivery vans are parked out the back too, and the keys are in the duty manager’s office. It’s risky, but it must be better than going to a strange place where I don’t know the layout.
  All I have to do is get out of here, and I can use the side streets.

The only window facing the rear of the building is in the staff room, and this has frosted glass with bars on the frame. I go through and open the smaller window first, listening until I am sure there are no sounds. The larger window is sealed shut - probably to prevent staff passing goods to people outside.
  I can’t hear anything, but the risk is too great. I make my way carefully through the shop floor, moving between the clothes stands, until I am a just a few steps away from the front windows.
  The streetlights are still on outside, but I can’t see any undead in front of the store. There are two lady mannequins on a raised plinth in the window display, and I step up to stand between them.
  This gives me a better view of the street. To the left there is a massive horde of undead still milling round the door that I went through some time ago. There must be hundreds of them. They look slow and cumbersome now, but I know that they can switch on to
fast
when they have prey in their sights.
  Looking intently at the horde on the left, I fail to see the single male undead shuffling past the window from my right. He is inches away, and I stand stock still, until he slowly passes by.
  The front is out of the question; there are simply too many of them. The second that I exit the store, they will see me, and although I can run faster than them, there are clearly more undead up the road stumbling down to join the massive crowd.
  The rear exit is the only choice.

In the stairwell, the bag is on my back and I have the axe in hand. I stare intently at the back door, wondering if I should go slowly or burst out.
  I decide on the slower option. I can always try and pull the door shut if one of them comes at me. I push the metal bar down gently, keeping my movements very slow and controlled. The door is well used, and is fairly quiet. Pushing the door open, it hinges on the right, and I get a view of the left.

All clear.
  Axe in my left hand, and a firm grip on the door handle with my right, I lean forward.

Still no undead.
   I’m in a small service road, that runs along the back of the shops.

I take the fire extinguisher and prop the door slightly open. It looks closed, but I know that I can get back in, if I need to.
  Down the road, there is a turning to the right that heads away from the town centre.
  There is a row of parked cars on the right. I stay to this side, keeping low and using the cars to cover me. It is much darker here, and there is no street lighting.
  Commercial units and storage places give way to houses, and then I’m into suburbia, and the area is once again well lit.
  The darkness was good to creep along in, but bloody scary; deep shadows everywhere. The streetlights will mean that I am seen by them easier, but they will also help me to see
them
quicker.
  I keep the axe low to avoid the metal glinting from the lights and I keep on through residential streets, that are all quiet. I find the same signs of devastation here: open front doors and dark patches on the pavement.
  After a few minutes, I pass a car in the middle of the road that has crashed into the parked vehicles. The windscreen is smashed, and the doors are open. Blood stains are on the road, so I quicken my pace to get past quickly.
  Some of the houses have lights on inside that offer the street a warm, inviting glow. I want to think of people sitting inside, watching television and drinking tea, instead of having to deal with this horror.

A main road crosses the end of the residential streets. I can see the
Tesco
garage on the other side; all in darkness.
  The front door has been smashed in, and I can see packets of items littered on the forecourt. The fuel pumps have an automated system for credit cards at night, and the small shop is closed.
  After several minutes of watching for any movement, I go over the road and cross the forecourt quickly, reaching the shadows on the other side, without issue.
  Over a small wall, and I’m into the supermarket car park: a vast, open space with plastic-roofed trolley bays dotted about.
  There are very few cars here. Just a row of some dozen or so parked in the area that the night staff use.
  The main building is ahead of me. It is brightly lit. The massive red
Tesco
sign is like a beacon in the dark night but I can’t see anyone moving about from this distance.
  To the right of the building, there is a very high fence which runs around the back, and there is a double-gate entry point for delivery trucks and a single walk-through gate with a keypad for staff to use.
  The vehicle gates look closed from here – they are normally controlled by staff monitoring the CCTV cameras in the security office and can be open electronically.

I move right and keep to the edge of the car park, skirting round until I reach the high fencing. At the single gate, I enter the code, and it buzzes to show that the lock is disengaged.
  I push the gate and enter the rear compound, stopping to look about and making sure it is clear before I proceed. The gate has the same keypad on the inside, so there is no need to keep it open for a fast exit.
  To my left is the side of the main building: sheer and windowless. There are several home delivery trucks parked to the side in bays, facing towards the gates. A wide sweeping access road goes around the rear of the building to the delivery bays. There are wooden benches set aside, used by the staff that smoke or those who want to sit outside during their breaks. I can see from here that the staff access door is closed.
  Keeping to the far side, I move forward, until I get a full view of the back of the store. There is a long
Tesco
truck backed up to the loading platform.
  Just as I am about to move off, I see an undead male shuffling by the smoking area; he is too close to the rear staff door.
  The lorry in the loading bay means that there will be open doors into the storerooms so the stock can be taken in. I could go that way, but it is a big area. I want to go in the side door so I can get to the security office and use the cameras to look round the store.
  There are just as many cameras in the staff and stock rooms as there are on the shop floor – Loss Prevention they call it. But, in reality, they just don’t trust the staff.
  If I want to use that side door, I’ll have to deal with
him
.

Keeping low and to the perimeter, I make my way round the side of the building, then start coming back towards the side door from the other direction, sticking to the dark shadows at the side.
  I am still at least thirty metres from him when he spins round, suddenly aware of my presence. There is no pause or delay… he is running at me, gathering speed, despite his jerky motion.

I step away from the building, so I have space around me, moving left and drawing him out into the open.
  He is dressed in blue trousers and a blue polo shirt with the
Tesco
logo and looks to be in his late forties, with a big gut hanging over the top of his trousers. One half of his face looks torn away. I don’t recognise him. He must be the truck driver.

He looks like a truck driver
.
  I will only get one shot at this before he is upon me. I lift the axe and hold it ready, just as he gets in range. Then I step to the right and swing at his head. The impact sends him careering off, and he sprawls onto the ground. I move in before he can get up and slam the sharp edge into his brain. A sickening crunch and squelch as his skull is burst open, and the soft matter underneath is destroyed.
  I pull the axe out and look around me, checking that the noise hasn’t drawn any more.

Satisfied that all is fine for now, I move to the staff door and key in the code. A single click signals that the door is unlocked. The top half of the door is glass, and I can see that the inside area looks clear.
  Inside, I move down the corridor to the security office. The door is closed, but not locked. I enter the room and see a several monitors on a desk in front of a keyboard and a joystick; two swivel chairs are in front of the desk.
  Bert is sitting in one of the chairs. He is the oldest of the security staff; grey haired and very friendly.
  He is leaning back in the chair, and his arms hang down at his sides. Huge pools of blood have formed underneath him, and there is a packing knife in the blood under his right hand.

Bert had rolled his sleeves up, before opening his veins.
  This sticks in my mind, as Bert never rolled his sleeves up or loosened his tie; always a stickler for being smart. He would often chastise the younger staff for looking scruffy.
  Even at the point of taking his own life, he still took the time to roll them smartly above the elbow. I can see old army style tattoos on his forearms, faded with time.
  He was a very proud man, and I feel glad that he decided to choose his own fate, rather than face becoming one of
them
.

Bert is in the closest chair, and I will have to tread in the pools of blood to get at the monitors. They are angled round so that staff sticking their heads through the door can’t see what is being watched.
  I walk gently through the blood to his chair and go to push the chair out of the way. The chair is not on wheels though, and pushing it causes my feet to lose grip and slip from under me. I land heavily on my knees in the pool of blood.
  I’m now kneeling down in front of Bert, and my face is inches away from his groin. I go to stand up, but the floor is like ice now; my trainers can’t get a grip, and I have to use the chair to lever myself upright, then twist around and fall into the second seat.
  My trouser legs are soaked through, and I can feel the cold liquid on my skin; I only just got these trousers too!
  Shaking my head at my own incompetence, I look toward the monitors.