The Zombie Evolution (14 page)

“We have to go.”

We looked around and noticed multiple zombies breaking free from the woodlands and introducing themselves to the party. These weren’t the slow, dopey zombies I first saw back in the pub. They were now streamline, almost athletic hunting machines, quick paced with the advanced ability to dodge obstacles and pounce upon their prey like cheetahs on helpless injured gazelles. It was scary to see how quickly they had evolved over just a few days in reality, transitioning from an easily escapable slow-walking ‘traditional’ zombie, to these scarily able undead killers. The only thing scarier than seeing what they had become was to see that they were now hell-bent on making us their next conquest, and for the moment Jon and I were two weak, lone fish swimming in a very small barrel.

11.

Jon grabbed my arm as the zombies tucking into what was left of Kate took notice of us; Fresh meat, ready for the taking.  Knowing how quick the zombies were now, it didn’t take much deliberation time before we turned and sprinted to the car. My ankle was weak and unbelievably painful as was being used far more than it should have been. The reality was that it should be in a cast, with me off my ta-tas on tramadol, foot raised as I rested it for several weeks. That fantasised luxury couldn’t have been further apart from the treatment my injury was receiving, as I had been putting weight on it, hurtling myself over fences onto it, cramping it up in a confined car designed to hold 4 yet yielding 7, and now running heavily on it. Every step released new found pain up from my foot through every vein in my body, but I knew the pain would be much worse should I let that get the better of me. We both ran as fast as our legs would carry us, the zombies yapping at our heels in the process.

Somehow we made it to the car before the zombies made it to us, launching ourselves into the backseat across Derek, landing hard on his wound. He screamed again, frantically trying to shimmy us off his thigh as we scrambled to get safely in the car. Jon’s foot was still on the road as Tina flattened the accelerator, thrusting us forward as the tyres skidded on the tarmac causing a cloud for the zombies to run through. Three managed to latch themselves to the car, one grabbing Jon’s leg as he was yet to close the car door. It sunk its claws into the car seat, thankfully freeing Jon’s leg, and snapped its jaws wildly towards him whilst he scrambled back in, crushing my ankle and causing me to land on Derek’s thigh once again. I couldn’t blame him, as I would have done the same, plus a bit of pain for Derek and I was a far better outcome than him getting bitten or torn out from the car. Irrespectively, it really, really fucking hurt, so I grabbed both of Jon’s shoulders to pull him back on top of Derek and out of harm’s way. As I did so I used my good foot to boot that fucking piece of shit zombie in the face as hard as I could. It resulted in it losing grip of one hand, but now it looked even more pissed off.

Another had clambered around the passenger side of the car and smashed Phil’s front window. This fucker followed the same trend as his rear-side accomplice; snapping away wildly with its green haggard, sharp teeth, trying with all its might to take a chunk out of him. Phil grabbed the knife he still had in his belt and slammed it through the zombie’s jaw, up through the top of its head, pinning it to the roof of the car. The zombie could no longer bite, armed with a look of angered frustration as its body flapped around violently on the outside of the car. It removed its hold on the edges of where the window used to be in order to swipe its claws at Phil, but as it did Phil quickly removed the knife, causing the zombie to fall from the car and be pulled between the back wheel and the road. A third was making its way around on the same course, screaming that horrific new sound which seemed to have developed from their initial moan as part of the evolution. Now knifeless, Phil scrambled to find a new weapon in the car, frantically looking everywhere for something he could use to defend himself, the zombie all the while getting closer as it pulled itself along the car. Having searched everywhere, Phil managed only to locate an ice scraper in the glove compartment. Fearing this was a weapon unlikely to deter the sharp, jagged, hungry jaws of the assailant, yet understanding that this was the only choice he had, he leaned out the window to face the zombie head on. As he did, knowing that this would be an extremely hard battle to win, Derek rolled down the window of the back seat and gave the zombie a hard, unexpected punch in the head, resulting in this one again losing grip on the car and falling under the wheel. In disbelief, still wielding a plastic ice scraper, Phil looked back at his saviour, who simply gave him a nonchalant shrug, a goofy smile, and a wave. 

I was still kicking out at this fucking prick hanging from our side of the car. Its one hand was still in deep on the chair and every kick I made ran extreme risk of being bitten, yet if I didn’t kick at it, the determination of the zombie would ultimately get it in the car and then we were all fucked. The zombie’s legs had worn away with the friction of the road beneath it, eroding them down to nothing but stumps. The fact that it didn’t seem to notice nor care added to the terror of its sheer determination to make us its dinner. Jon eventually found himself in a safer position, occupying the length of the foot well, so started assisting me in the security process; both of us kicking so hard it felt like I was going to pop my hip out of place. We made a conscious decision to start kicking in unison, creating a stronger action in hope that would get it off the car. The lessened grip and ripping fabric of the chair gave us an indication our efforts were slowly and surely working, Jon and I counted ‘1-2-3’ and hoofed the zombie with everything we had.

“Last one”

Shouted Jon.

“This one will get him off!”

Again, ‘1-2’3’ and
KICK
.

This one broke the zombie’s grip entirely getting him off the seat and falling backwards. With its descent, the zombie turned its head to my outstretched leg and sunk his teeth in to my broken ankle, piercing the splint and dragging his jaws into my flesh. Jon, Derek and Phil cheered and high-fived one another as the third and final zombie fell to the ground, not realising it had bitten me before rolling backwards and being absorbed into the wave as they pursued us on foot on the road behind. Not knowing what to do, I pulled my leg in toward me and wrapped a stray piece of fabric around the splint to hide the blood. It hurt like a mother fucker, but at this stage I still didn’t know what a bite meant. I tried to take my memory back to Stacey’s cut and how deep it was – it was really deep and on her stomach, so maybe I’d be ok? Perhaps as it was that low on my body, and really wasn’t that deep of a bite I might be alright.
Maybe
. 

Pulling the flailing door closed, we looked back at the wave. It was a terrifying sight; about twenty or so of them sprinting at us, pretty much keeping up with the speed of the car. As we exited the covered woodland area, the road widened slightly and the light hit our chasers, exacerbating our fears as we could clearly make out their horrific, rotten faces. The earlier zombies had all looked dead-eyed, all gormless with no expression whatsoever. Yet the evolved versions all looked directly at us, all frowning with decrepit teeth clenched or snapping at us as if they were rabid dogs. They were running far faster than any human could too; our new car was a Peugeot 207, hardly a sports car, but we were still hitting speeds of 75mph and they were just about keeping up. It was frightening to say the least, like a swarm of flesh-hungry T-1000s from Terminator 2. We were fine if we kept going, gaining a small amount of distance with every couple of minutes, but if we hit a winding road or had to slow down for whatever reason, they very much so had the ability to catch up with us.

Aside from Tina who remained fixated on the road, the others stared out the back of the car at the wave, now about quarter of a mile behind us. They showed no signs of tiring or giving up, the exact opposite mentality of the car we had now found ourselves in. Steam escaped the engine under the bonnet as the rev counter was off the scale. Petrol was burning quickly and the fact that it was a French car made us feel that the electrics could easily give out at any time as well. The only positive was that about twenty minutes after we escaped the woodland and paraded through a short distance across some more fielded area, we entered the outskirts of Portsmouth.

12.

I had managed to keep my bite from the others but grew increasingly concerned about what was to happen. Was it going to hurt if I ‘changed’? Was I going to convulse or have a seizure or feel my brain shutting down? It was more terrifying than the zombies themselves; the not knowing was a horror in itself and I was so, so frightened. The other concern was that when I did turn, would I try and hurt the others? Three of these guys were my best friends, and Tina deserved no harm whatsoever. I knew these guys were strong and wily enough to get out of all the situations they had thus far been in, but a friend-turned-zombie actually in the car with them was a different matter altogether. Plus if the transition carried no obvious traits then I could turn without them knowing; at least if I convulsed they would have apt notice to throw me out of the car or get away. I really had no idea what I could or should do. Telling them would cause panic, more worry than already evident, and would possibly mean they’d throw me out the car right now. Although I understood this was inarguably what they should do, I wasn’t ready to be thrown to the wave just yet, not before I understood things a little better.

The day’s sun had subsided into a grey, overcast sky, dropping that annoying thin rain you get which doesn’t appear to be that bad until you realise you’re soaked through.

Approaching the coast revealed the mayhem we had seen on TV; there was a mass panic, a mix of zombie and non-zombie outside of the gates; mostly gunned down and laying in pieces across the roads, but there was the odd figure running to either attack or be attacked. I assumed this was because the army had refused entry to anyone who showed signs of infection and has consequently left them to die on the outside with no hope of survival whatsoever. Taking on that mentality; to admit that you have been beaten and there was no way of you surviving because even if you made it to another coastline, it was more than likely the same fate awaited you, it was utter pandemonium.

The armies were shooting people down as they tried to scramble over the fences, some getting as far as finding they were caught in the barbwire then getting painfully intertwined in the sharp metal. Some wriggled in vain attempt to escape yet only exacerbating their unfortunate situation by creating deeper wounds and eventually bleeding out. The army took pity on some stuck in the fence by putting a bullet in their brain, but it seemed the soldiers were far more focused on controlling who went in an out than emitting any signs of mercy. 

There was a man to the left of us holding his young boy up to the solders. He had clearly been bitten but hadn’t turned yet, and it didn’t look like his son had any bites of him, so was trying to get him through the fence to safety. However, the boy was bleeding, so assumedly the army thought his blood could be contaminated, consequently disallowing him a chance at survival. What appeared to be the boy’s mother had got through and was screaming through thick streams of tears from the other side of the fence. The man ran from the gate after pleading with the guards to no avail, then launched his young son over part of the fence, narrowly escaping the blades of the barbed wire. The boy landed into the arms of a woman, but a soldier saw it, marching over to aggressively eject both of them with no consideration or repentance. We tried to yell a warning as we saw a zombie run towards them but our voices went unheard, as the whole family were brutally attacked. The zombie managed to inflict damage on all three before a soldier drew his weapon and wiped all four of them out completely.

The scene was utterly cataclysmic; a clear depiction of Hell on earth. A twisted array of pain and misery amongst blood thirsty monsters that had the desire to turn you inside out and eat you before you were allowed the chance to die.

The once tourist attracting shores of the city were now strewn with what was left of human bodies, a sea of which our car was steadily wading through. The wave of zombies was still hot on our tail, and seemed only a matter of time before they caught up to us now. We had only managed to stretch about a mile ahead of them, a distance of which was now steadily decreasing due to the dead bodies acting us difficult obstacles for us to pass through with any speed to mention.

As we got closer to the main gate leading to the escape docks, we could see that the fence was only the first of three; A perimeter fence acting as a manned checkpoint for screening where any signs of blood, aggression or infection were met with a rather severe act of ejection by being shot or thrown onto the plates of the zombies. After that, a second fence acting as further security which led to a tunnel leading underground. A third fence stood over where the tunnel must have been running, which on the other side showed the tunnel exit leading to the shore. Only once you got out of the tunnel was there boats and helicopters getting people out.

With a lack of communication and having no access to radio or internet for some time it wasn’t evident at this point where they were shipping people off to. It seemed like the infection was bound to UK borders, so people could have been going to the Isle of Wight on a temporary basis, or shipped even further afield across to Europe. Irrespectively, we wanted, neigh,
needed
to get onto either a boat or a chopper and get the fucking Hell out of here as quickly as possible.

Tina sounded the horn loudly as we all hung out of the windows shouting for the soldiers to open the gate, ever wary of the thick array of undead killers running quickly behind us. The army had built security barricades which were impenetrable, and any weak spots were manned with multiple soldiers armed with a heavy arsenal, so our only chance of getting in was if they let us.

An alarm sounded as someone spotted the wave a mile behind us, auspiciously meaning we were permitted entry into the first gate, hurrying us in before slamming it shut behind us. A medic came lumbering over to us, shining lights in our eyes to check our pupil dilation and going up and down our bodies extensively, enquiring about any injuries. Phil, Jon and Tina were fine; Phil only having a couple of minor tree scratches from his distraction run which didn’t appear to be a worry. Tina and Jon were injury free so caused no concern. They were OK’d and informed they would be able to proceed past the next gate to the tunnel, celebrating the news with hugs and smiles of relief.

Derek and I were a little more difficult though, due to our clear and evident inflictions, suggesting a risk of (potential) infection. Signaling another medic over, the two covered Derek’s full body, and then carefully examined his wound. Seeing the extent to his examination, I was sure they would notice my bite but was yet to decide how I wanted to deal with it. I wanted whatever happened to be my decision and done for the right reasons so at this stage I wasn’t ready for them to kick me back out the gate to my inevitable murder. The more they went over Derek, the more I began to sweat profusely, making myself feel sick and visibly shaking. Phil noticed and caught my eye.

“Are you ok?”

He mouthed.

I took a moment to think, before giving him the thumbs up and pointing at the oncoming wave to avert his attention. The zombies were now approaching the gate and all Hell was breaking loose. The swarm that were on our tail seemed to have recruited significantly on their pursuit, now appearing to be well over a hundred fast, angry, hungry zombies hitting the fence with power, meeting a downpour of Army bullets in response. As the attack drew everyone’s attention, I took a piece of white bandage and quickly wrapped it around the splint on my foot, disguising the blood I had previously hidden under my trouser leg. So as not to arouse suspicion by it looking too clean, I rubbed the dirt from my other boot on it, making it look aged but not a sign of infection. It was a long shot, but I had to at least try something or they would hurl me into that aggressive, fatal wave trying its best to make it through the fence.

The Army were vigilant and strong, heavily armed with machine guns and pistols. They made a valiant effort to keep the zombies at bay, but it’s very hard to kill something that’s already dead. The zombies hurtled themselves at the fence, launching their decrepit, rotting bodies as high up as they could. A significant amount were getting caught in the barbed wire, but with a lack of ability to feel pain, they were wriggling relentlessly, showing a dominant determination to make their way through the sharp metal maze. Many were being mowed down under the heavy gunfire, but the zombies were persistent; instantly getting back up unless the shot managed to get through their brain. A headshot was the only thing that seemed to stop them, and in the mayhem, no matter how extensive the soldiers training may have been, to get a head shot on something moving that fast was an extremely difficult thing to do.

Derek explained his thigh wound and a decision was made he too was ok to proceed. Then it was my turn; I quickly told them about my ankle and pleaded with them to be careful whilst examining it in hope they wouldn’t unravel the bandaging. I told them what it was; a break from falling out of a window whilst escaping the grasp of several zombies, and successfully so. The fact that it was the truth made it easy to reel off the source of my injury, and meant the others could back me up. The fact that there was a secondary injury was for now by the by; the others didn’t know and I wasn’t asked, so technically I wasn’t falsifying any information.

It seemed that I had be somewhat lucky with the zombie attack hitting the fences, as the examination I received was far more rushed that Derek’s, his actually seeming to be much quicker than what there’d normally do again because of the impeding threat. We were lucky; we could have easily been turned away at another time and we fucking knew it. The medics signalled us to get back in the car and ushered us on our way through the second gate and toward the tunnel, to which we were only too happy to oblige.

The wave was relentless with any other zombies nearby joining the stampede. I looked back to see a few were getting through the barbed wire, and the main fence was now rocking unconvincingly. These zombies were so much smarter than the ones we first encountered, now working together to rock the fence back and forth in attempt to unhinge it. The ones getting over the top through the barbed wire were picking off a few guards, but ultimately were easy to manage as they were a singular attacker, yet if that fence went down we were all in trouble. These zombies were strong, they were smart, and they were determined to get through, a mix of which left only one outcome; Only minutes in, before we got to the tunnel, the fence collapsed, unleashing the wave into the first security area and taking everyone out in their wake. The sight was horrific; Soldiers shooting assailants in one direction then being assassinated from another. They screamed for help, squealing in agony, yet there was nothing anyone could do now. Some of the soldiers were clearly friends, doing their best to get to one another and save them from the jaws of the zombies, but it was all fruitless, ultimately meeting the same fate as their loved one. It was a massacre in the most brutal form, zombie genocide of merciless terror unveiling right in front of us. They picked off soldiers as if they were nothing, knocking them down like pins at a bowling alley before tearing them apart and feasting on their insides. A sea of red covered the first area, as those who fled were chased and caught, those who climbed were followed….and caught, those who fought were beaten. I could even see one man try to reason with two zombies, holding his hands up to calm them as if they were wild animals. Needless to say, his hands were soon removed before they worked on the rest of his body. The whole ordeal was impossible to watch yet we couldn’t look away.

“We’re safe now”

              Exclaimed Jon as we hit the entrance to the tunnel.

A look of relief occupied all five of our faces, yet a sincere feeling of contempt filled the car for realisation that we bought that wave to the coast. It was our noise, our disruption that lead them here, and essentially our fault that all these soldiers were losing their lives. I thought that they would have come eventually, but perhaps that would have been way after everyone had the opportunity to escape. These soldiers had been stationed here to help people by controlling the borders, by quarantining the infected so that those who have escaped are safe. The UK was a death hole now, it was a place that no one could ever again inhabit; even if the entire zombie race was wiped out by chemical or nuclear weapons or whatever the rest of the world attempted, it would still be a contaminated hotspot that no-one would run the risk of living in ever again. Our home was Chernobyl on a far more vast scale, our country being nothing more than a zombie rampage to live in memory as the place of massacre and misery. The rich, beautiful British countryside would be outstretched cemeteries where the bodies rotted on the surface; the picturesque beaches of Wales to be tainted with barricades and the carcasses of those who didn’t make it out; the lochs of Scotland would become red with blood. Everything our home stood for, was famous for, and was
loved
for, would all be forgotten and all memories replaced with that of zombie-fuelled terror and torment. Everything we had ever known was gone, but the soldiers deployed to ensure the rest of the world didn’t meet the same fate were now subjected to the same pain and misery they were trying to prevent, all because of us leading the zombies right to them.