The Zombie Evolution (16 page)

15.

All means of telling time were long since gone. I struggled to find a working watch or clock anywhere and there hadn’t been any electricity for months now.  I was relying purely on keeping track of the sunsets and making a mental note of how many I had seen. As I stared up to see yet another ignite the sky with its vibrant oranges and luscious reds scattered across the broad atmospheric canvas, I wondered just how many there had actually been since I last saw another person. If I were pushed to give a definitive timeframe, I’d estimate that it was probably three weeks, give or take a day, since the incident at the beach. I should have started a tally, perhaps marking the sunsets on my arm or on a wall somewhere, but it seemed utterly pointless to monitor something that simply had no meaning anymore. 

The explosion from the three grenades had caused the exact outcome I had desired; blowing out the roof of the tunnel and causing the mass amount of land above it to cave in. The explosion resulted in the underpass being blocked off completely, disenabling anything to get through it, and in the process taking out a significant chunk of the invading zombies. The latter part, although an added bonus, had little long term advantage as the waves would continue to come from the millions of ‘turned’ infected monsters who still dwelled in the UK. They would continue to come in the masses and parade the island determinedly searching for something, or someone to eat. But the collapsed tunnel meant everyone on that beach, Derek, Jon, Phil and Tina included, had the opportunity to get away, to get off the island, to get to help and safety.

I prayed that the carnage of the beach had subsided with the threat removed. The panic of approaching zombies was diminished by the collapse of the tunnel as the fence above it was still strong and unaffected by the explosion.

I took a quick look back after I made it through; the power of the grenades propelled the car with me in it up the ramp to the entrance, firing both vehicle and I a fair distance in the air before nose diving back to the ground. I had fortunately belted up; I’m not an idiot, but the impact winded me and hurt me pretty bad. In fact, a shard of metal from the front of the car had sliced through the driver’s side and straight through my shin, completely slicing my foot off altogether. Either good or bad fortune, whichever way you wanted to look at it, the car crash resulted in the loss of my foot, my
infected
foot, my foot that had essentially provoked me into driving the car in the first place. Irony’s a bitch sometimes.

As I lay there in the driver’s seat, under any normal circumstance I think I would have passed out from the pain of losing a significant portion of a limb; I doubt there’s anyone who would normally be able to carry on without passing out to be completely honest. Yet I had suffered so much agony on this foot, so much pain and irritation ever since I smashed it on the hard concrete of the high street that losing it as crazy as it sounds actually relinquished some pain; it gave me a release I could have only obtained by either losing it or by weeks of uninterrupted rest and a heavy dose of very strong pain killers. The latter was a long term albeit better solution, but the former had come at the only time where an optimist could have considered it beneficial.

Aside the pain, I knew I had to get out of there. I took out about 75% of the zombies with the explosion I would say at a guess, but there was still a quarter of them still swiping fiercely at the fence in attempt to get to those on the beach. The beach dwellers were safe now, the zombies were never going to get them however hard they tried, but they could easily get me, and I wasn’t running anywhere.

Gingerly, I popped my head out of the car like a meerkat as I did my best to stifle my moans of agony. They had fortunately ignored the car wreckage entirely, still remaining distracted by those still on the beach, but any hint of movement or noise would definitely have attracted them. If one saw me, the others would soon follow, at which point I’d be completely and utterly fucked.

The car was unsalvageable and there were no other means of transportation for me to exploit, so, grabbing a loose piece of wood on the ground, I carefully pulled myself up on my lone foot and as quietly as I could I hopped off in the other direction.

Avoiding bodies or any other remnants of bodies dispersed across the ground, I kept low and quiet, ducking down and using the remains of unfortunate people as shelter when I feared the zombies may had been looking over in my direction. It was a long and gruelling process, taking a brief sabbatical on my route to attend to the stump where my foot used to be; it was auspiciously a clean cut straight through so the metal must have been fired through the car at some immense force. Tying a new tourniquet over the old one, I used whatever fabric I could find to wrap it up tight and stop the excessive bleeding. Standard infection was also a risk let alone the zombie infection itself, so I knew I had to get somewhere really soon in order to treat it properly, or as properly as a person with zero medical training possibly could.

For now, it was just about stopping the blood pouring out and getting as far away as possible from the zombies. One sniff of me and they’d be over far quicker than I could attempt to get away. I was lucky to survive both the crash and the explosion, so the culmination of my actions being torn limb from limb by the zombies was of very little interest to me.

After about an hour, I managed to get far enough away from the beach to hide myself behind some of the coastline buildings. However otiose it was, I knew the zombies were ruthless enough not to give up on the fence at the beach for at least a day, parading it in effort to find any weak spots or ware it down enough to break through. I had faith in that fence; it was strong and cleverly erected, perhaps so as the Army had more time on it than they did the initial two which would have needed to go up immediately in order to control any further outbreaks abroad. Again, it also had no points of entry; no gates or doors or hidden passage ways, so there were no weak spots for the zombies to find and exploit. They could try, and try they certainly would, but I seriously doubted their success, at least before the people on the beach had apt time to make a getaway. Finding a local shop, it was evident that this, as probably a large majority of other stores, had been looted for all it was worth. Whether it was by kids taking advantage of the crisis or people who just stocked up on supplies before laying low or travelling elsewhere I didn’t know, but was thankful that they had been kind enough to leave me the following:

1x Unopened Tuna sandwich,

1x Tin of Chicken Flavour cat food,

1x Bottle of vodka and

1x Bottle of fizzy drink.

The latter I downed in seconds, suddenly realising I hadn’t had anything to drink for a very long time. The sandwich, albeit Tuna which I normally hated still went down a treat, again with the realisation I hadn’t eaten in some time either. I was starving, so eating cat food was the least of my problems, wolfing down a tin of jelly chicken chunks and thinking it tasted like the best meal I had ever had. I used most of the vodka to clean my wound; it stung like a bitch but it had to be done to at least minimise the risk of a general infection. The very last bit of the bottle I swigged back down my throat, providing a little extra strength and perhaps a hint of Dutch courage in order for me to get up and carry on. 

Eventually, my travels lead me to find shelter in
The Still and West
; a deserted pub further up the coastline and is where I’ve been ever since. The pub had been relatively untouched, still just looking like a pub in good shape but empty of punters, I guessed because it was so close to the coast that people in this area had the good sense to get the fuck out of here at the first sign of trouble. Luckily for me, it meant there was plenty of food and drink still inside, including a fantastic and most welcome selection of beers and other such alcoholic beverages, enough to last one person for a month at least so was perfect while I figured out what to do.

I didn’t want to stray too far from the coast in hope that someone at some point might come up with a cure, as at this stage I still couldn’t judge whether or not the loss of my foot had removed the infection all together, and if it hadn’t if my infection was irreversible. I’ve always been a firm believer in everything happening for a reason; the initial shattering of my foot made it hard to believe that at the time, but the break meant I was fully bandaged up with a tourniquet wrapped around my leg, just above the ankle; the original one had been there from the get go so had stopped the circulation to and from that part of leg. It was a blessing that I had smashed my ankle to pieces, a gift that I didn’t appreciate at the time. The same was for the loss of my foot, the amount of blood that hosed out of the bottom of my leg was agonising as it happened, yet had filtered out the blood affected by the zombie’s bite that the tourniquet had kept exclusively in that area, disallowing it to circulate up my leg and through the rest of my body. The infection may still be able to spread, I hadn’t had a transfusion or anything so even if there was just one infected cell it could have still caused me to turn eventually, but what seemed like at least three weeks in since I was bitten left me hopeful that I’d be fine. 

The pub was pretty good as a fortress; I could bolt the main door closed, and all subsequent doors had the same strong, old styled security of iron bolts and locks that would be pretty tricky for the zombies to get the better of. The pub had a full glass conservatory that I could sit in and gaze out of across the sea, but it was on the first floor, so a good 8ft above a solid brick wall. With their advanced intellect and most likely evolved strength, I was fully aware that the initial obstacle of the locked doors wouldn’t take too long to break through, nor would it take them too long to figure out how to get up the wall and in through the conservatory should they suspect someone living
to be inside, so I had to have my wits about me and not draw any attention to the fact that I or anyone else was in here.

I spent most days rationing the food, sipping on whiskey, sitting in the conservatory and looking across the water, reflecting on what had happened and hoping that the guys got out ok and were happy and safe somewhere now.

I reminisced about Lance, about how he always looked out for me and no matter what we always had each other’s backs. My brain skipped wildly through my favourite memories of our childhood, playing with Lego or G.I Joes together, or to our later years where we’d go out and get ourselves good and drunk which generally lead to us causing some kind of trouble.

After a while, guilt absorbed me, torturing my brain as I went over what happened again and again, wandering if there was something else I could have done to stop him getting bitten. Hindsight is considered a wonderful thing, but when the retrospect torments you on how you could have saved a loved one then it’s one of the worst things in the world. I couldn’t get the image of him in my arms out of my head; covered in blood and looking scared and defeated. But I focused on the smile her gave me with his eyes before he passed, the smile I instantly recognised, the smile I was accustomed to from all our years together. We had always been close, and although he lived on the other side of the world I still felt like I could talk to him at any time about anything; he was always there whenever I needed him, but now he was gone. I think how ironic it was that if I was in the situation and he was in New Zealand, should I have had the means to he would have been the first person I contacted for advice. But he couldn’t help me now, the same as I couldn’t help him. Funnily enough, should we have all been on the beach I had little doubt that he would have either taken the car himself, or had been that bit too quick or read me too well to allow me the split second head start I had against the others to get in the car. He would have either stopped me, or done it himself. Thinking about it, I most likely would have told him about Damian’s plan instead of Phil in the house, and knowing his short fuse the way I did I think things would have gone extremely differently. For better or for worse I didn’t know, but what I did know as that I would have given anything to have him back and for him to be safe, off the UK Island with the others. 

I thought about Ashley too and hoped she was alright, I hoped the news had got to her that I hadn’t made it so she didn’t waste any more energy on hope. I knew she would be, but I really didn’t want her to be sad or distraught. The thought of her being upset made me shudder, as it would normally be me that made her feel better.

I made myself laugh rather cynically whilst thinking she better not fucking find a replacement for me for
at least
the next ten years or so anyway. Some people may have wished her the happiness of finding comfort in the form of a new lover; Fuck that, she was mine! The reality was that eventually she would move on, I knew that, and all my bitterness aside I would genuinely be happy for her. All I did hope for what that I would always have a special place in her heart, in her thoughts and in her prayers. I wanted her to live her life and enjoy it for what it was and not dwell on me or the past, but I was terrified that I would be forgotten; pushed into the shadows as a ghost of the past, a face no one could remember, nor did they care to.

The important thing was that she was safe, all my friends were safe, and all those people on the beach were safe. In fact, everyone that managed to escape the UK was safe as the Army were not permitting any infected people, turned or not, across the waters. Without boat or plane or helicopter, the infection was confined to inside the parameter coasts of Britain and the rest of the world could live on without threat.