The Undead. The First Seven Days (40 page)

 
Fuck him, I’m not in the army and I don’t have to be polite to him
.
  ‘So - are you all soldiers, then?’
  ‘Kind of,’ Simon Blowers replies. ‘We’ve just joined the TA. We only arrived on Friday for our first two-week camp.’
  ‘Do not turn your back on me, I was talking to you.’ The officer speaks from behind me.
  ‘You were speaking rudely to me, that’s what you were doing, mate - and after what we just did…’
  ‘Do not call me, mate. I am an officer in the British Army and you do not call me… that word!’
  I spin round. At any other time I might have been able to swallow it and remain polite, but the adrenalin is still in me and I lose my temper and jab my finger into his chest, driving him back into the classroom.
  ‘You are fucking rude, that’s what you are… MATE… now me and Dave here have just fought through a shit load of zombie soldiers to try and help you and all you can do is sneer and patronise me.’

 
The officer looks scared, but he shouts back me, his face flushing red.
  ‘DO NOT TOUCH ME! I AM AN OFFICER, YOU MEN,’ he points at the men in the hallway. ‘ARREST HIM, NOW, HE HAS ASSAULTED AN OFFICER.’
  The men just stare at each other; looks of amazement on their faces.
  ‘IF YOU DO NOT ARREST HIM NOW… I WILL HAVE YOU ALL SHOT WHEN THE REST OF THE ARMY ARRIVES.’
  A couple of them step forward, clearly scared by the threat.

  Dave gently steps in front of them and shakes his head.
  ‘There is no army, there’s nothing out there. Every city, town and village we’ve been through has fallen. Those things are everywhere, the whole country and the whole of Europe is gone, there’s no army, no police… nothing.’
  The men stare in horror at me.
  ‘What did you think was going on? That this was just here in this place? No lads, I’m sorry - but it’s all gone.’
  A few of them reel back, clearly thinking of families and friends, their homes and loved ones.

  Even the officer goes quiet and stares off into space, and then he looks at me and speaks softly.
  ‘How do you know this?’
  ‘I watched it happen. The whole of Europe got infected within a few hours, god knows how it happened so fast, but it did - and now it’s here. There are a few survivors, but not many.’
  A tear falls down his cheek and he slumps down into one of the classroom chairs and starts sobbing loudly into his hands.

  I pull the door closed and turn back to face the gathered men. A few of them are crying quietly and some have slumped down against the walls. The ones at the front don’t show a reaction though, and I note the hard looks on their faces; especially from the one called Blowers.
  There is a long silence and then I look over at Dave, who has assumed his usual devoid expression look.

  He is covered in blood and bits of body; I step over and pick a small chunk of grey matter and white bone from his shoulder. Then it gets stuck to my fingers and I try to shake it off, but the bloody thing won’t go and I flick at it with my other hand, but it gets stuck to that next; like a sticky bogey. I keep shaking my hand, but it won’t budge and I have to start waving my hand vigorously.
  ‘Get the fuck off my hand,’ I keep shaking and spinning round, then try to wipe it with the other hand and it again gets stuck.
  ‘Oh… for fuck’s sake,’ I look up and remember where I am.

  Twelve faces are watching me in silence and even Dave has turned and is looking at me.
  ‘Sticky bit of brain won’t come off…’ I hold my hand up to show them, then drop my hand down and wipe it on the back of my trousers.
  ‘Er…mis there a bathroom? I could really do with getting cleaned up a bit.’

  Blowers steps forward.
  ‘Follow me, Sir. I’ll show you where it is.’
  ‘Cheers mate… you coming, Dave? You look like a right,
bloody
mess too.’

A few minutes later, Dave and I are standing at washbasins, scrubbing our hands clean.   

Blowers went back downstairs and said he would wait with the others. I wait a couple of minutes and close the door.
  ‘Who is that officer? What did he say he was?
  ‘He said he is a
Leftenant
from Army Intelligence.’
  ‘What’s a
Leftenant
?’
  ‘It’s a Lootenant, like the Americans have - it’s spelt the same, we just pronounce it differently.’
  ‘Why?’
  ‘I don’t know, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Is a Lieutenant a high up rank?’
  ‘He is a second Lieutenant, which means he’s just joined. He hasn’t got the full marks on his uniform yet, so he must be an OIT.’
  ‘What’s that?’
  ‘Officer in Training.’
  ‘So, he’s a newbie too, just like the rest of them?’
  ‘Yes.’
  ‘He’s still a pompous, fucking, dick.’
  Dave stays quiet, I guess his former life means he won’t badmouth an officer. I hold back from saying anymore ,so I don’t offend him. Dave left his bag in the car, and mine is out there too, amongst the undead army; so instead of his normal ritual of antiseptic cleansing wipes he is making do with army soap and water.

We scrub and clean the blood from our hands and faces. The front of my shirt is sticky and I take it off to rinse under the taps. The water runs pink and I catch my reflection in the mirror where the blood has soaked through onto my upper body.

I use paper towels from a dispenser and try to clean it off as best as possible. Dave copies me and starts rinsing out his clothes too, first the
Tesco
fleece, then his underneath top. We wring them out and spin them round in the bathroom, water flying off; we soak the ceiling from the spray.
  ‘They had windows open up here, didn’t they?’ I walk out and head across the landing to the rooms where they were leaning out to signal us.

The weather is still gloriously warm and we drape our tops over the windowsills to dry out.
  We slump down into the chairs in the room and I pick up the bit of paper they used to decipher Dave’s Morse code, I show him and he nods back.
  ‘Is that smoke?’ I sniff the air and start to get up.
  ‘Dave, can you smell smoke?’ He nods and we both start down the stairs.

The smell of smoke is strong now and we can hear voices coming from one of the rooms.

I push the door open and find another classroom, much like the other one. The lads all stare round, looking guilty. They have pushed the tables and chairs back and started a small fire in the middle on the concrete floor. A large pan of water is resting on a metal frame rigged up over the flames. The lads stare at Dave and I, standing there, topless.
  ‘Tucker rigged this up, Sir - we thought you might fancy a brew.’
  One of them points at the fat lad that ran out with the spatula, then got us the water.
  ‘Bloody hell, well done mate - that’s brilliant - where did you learn that?’
  Tucker swells with pride and a big smile spreads over his face; the other lads visibly relax and start smiling at each other.
  ‘In the Scout’s, Sir. I used the metal frames from the chairs and just bent them up a bit. I won’t get in trouble for that, will I?’
  ‘What… for breaking a couple of chairs? You should be more worried about replacing that spatula if I were you,’ some of the lads start laughing and the atmosphere slowly changes.
  ‘What the bloody hell were you gonna do with a spatula, Tucker?’ One of them calls out and then more join in, until Tucker pulls the spatula from his back pocket and waves it at them, jokingly.
  ‘I’ve still got it - so watch out.’ Tucker swipes at the closest lad and hits him with the flat part of the metal  head.
  ‘Oi, sorry chef.’
  I feel a bit awkward without my top on, I know it’s all lads, but still. Dave must have sensed my discomfort, because he nipped away, then came back with two lightweight green, camouflage jackets.
  ‘Ah, well done, Dave,’ I shrug the coat on and do the zip half up. Dave’s pulls his on and pulls the zip all the way to the top.
  ‘Where did you find them?’ One of the lads asks, Cooke I think his name is. ‘We looked everywhere for kit.’
  ‘Kit gets nicked, if it isn’t hidden,’ Dave answers.
  Within a few minutes, we are all seated and Dave and I get the first steaming mugs of black tea; Tucker apologising profusely for not having any milk.
  ‘It’s fine mate, don’t worry,’ I take an appreciative sip of the tea to show my gratitude and almost scald my mouth in the process.
  ‘So lads, fill us in on what happened here.’
  Blowers starts off, but soon the others join in.
  ‘Thirty of you to start with? Bloody hell, that’s awful. I’m really sorry for your loss.’
  ‘What about you, Sir? What happened out there?’
  I explain about how the event started and then spread across Europe. I tell them what I heard about the Forts and London being infested. Then about travelling through Portsmouth and how horrific the devastation was. A few of them look down and start crying again when I mention Portsmouth, and I realise too late that they must be from there.
  ‘Sorry lads, it’s better you know the truth though.’

After a long pause, only broken by Dave taking repeated loud sips from his tea, Cooke looks over.
  ‘So… what happens now?’
  ‘Now? What do you mean?’
  ‘Well… what do we do now?’
  ‘Lads, I’m not here to tell you what to do. We came to steal an AP…C… so that we can get through London - we’ll get that and then be off.’
  ‘Why are you going to London?’ One of them asks.
  ‘For my sister, she left a message, just as the outbreak started; she’s locked herself in her flat so I’m going to get her and then head to the Forts.’

Dave coughs.

‘Sorry,
we
are going to get her and head to the Forts.’
  ‘How are you going to get one, Sir. They’re all down on the plains for the exercise.’
  ‘Well… I guess we’ll go down there then, we’ve come this far…’
  ‘Sir, there are hundreds of ‘em down there. These ones here were just waiting their turn for the exercise, there’s shit loads more down there, far more,’ Blowers says.

I look at Dave, who carries on sipping his tea.
  ‘What do you think, mate? I reckon it’s worth it.’
  ‘Okay, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Mind you, we’ve got no ammunition left, so it’s down to the axe and the knives again. It’ll be a hard one, but there’s still a few hours of light left.’
  ‘Okay.’

A few of the lads watch us intently, some open-mouthed.
  ‘Fucking hang on a minute,’ s sudden realisation hits me. ‘This is the army, there must be loads of guns and things.’
  ‘In the armoury.’
  ‘Fuck it, let’s go and get them then.’ I’m all excited and raring to go again.
  ‘You can’t, Sir - the armoury is fully locked up,’ Cooke says.
  ‘Oh is it, well we can just unlock it then… somehow.’
  ‘Locked?’ Dave asks Cooke.
  ‘The Lieutenant told us.’
  ‘It’s not locked,’ Dave says.
  ‘How do you know? I ask him.
  ‘There was an exercise on, it wouldn’t be locked. They would need to be ready for re-supply.’
  ‘Ha! Even better then, right, where is it?’ I ask the lads, but they just stare back blankly and a few of them shrug their shoulders.
  ‘Oh, yeah - I forgot, you’re all new. Dave, do you know where it is?’
  ‘No, but it won’t be hard to find, Mr Howie.’
  ‘Okay, good. We’ve got a plan. Shall we?’ I ask Dave.
  ‘What about us, Sir? What should we do?’ I look round at the expectant faces. They have no idea where they are or where to go, I don’t want to lose valuable time but I understand that they must be terrified.
  ‘Listen lads, it’s up to you what you do. I know that you’ve learnt the difference between the zombies in the day and night, well… my advice is to avoid them at all costs during the hours of darkness. But, during the day, they become slow and they can be attacked, like that lot out there. We wouldn’t have done that during the night, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. Having said that, we were fighting a load this morning and one of them grabbed my axe when I was going for him. He wasn’t like the others, he looked more switched on. Maybe he was a one off, but it’s something to keep in mind. Now, if you want to go back to your homes and families, then go for it, but remember what I said. It’s a horrible, brutal thing to say, but there are very few survivors. And it’s already been a few days, so… well it’s up to you. But, we are all going to need weapons and we are safer fighting together, so I think we should all go for the armoury and then you must go where you want from there.’
  Most of them nod and I can see that they are in agreement. It makes sense if we stick together and fight our way through that lot.
  ‘Those of you who are up for it, we’ll meet you in the hallway in a couple of minutes, grab some weapons.’ I look at Tucker. ‘Maybe something a bit better than a spatula though, mate.’
  I leave the room and head back up the stairs.

My top is not quite dry and the material clings to my skin as I put it on. Dave comes in and gets his on too.
  ‘I quite like this jacket, shall we keep them?’
  He nods and we put them back on, over the damp shirts. I walk out into the hallway and go down through the corridor, opening doors, until I find the officer at a desk, his head resting in his hands.
  ‘Err… are you all right?’
  He looks up; his slicked back hair isn’t so slicked back now; it sticks up in a mess. He is not saying anything.
  ‘We’re going for the armoury and then we’ll try finding one of those big vehicles. You coming?’
  He still doesn’t reply, but just keeps on staring.
  ‘Listen mate, I know this is all a shock, but you’re still an officer and those lads could do with some leadership. Why don’t you come with us?’