Last Man Standing (Book 1): Hunger (2 page)

I wait patiently for Paul to continue, sensing he won't respond well to further prodding.

"Anyway... Once the first couple of guys turned people started to notice. They were right on the edge, near the blockade at Soi Convent, and for a moment even the guys closest to them didn't know what to make of it. They just watched as a group of them launched at the cop. I think they were more surprised than anything else. In Thailand, even drunks don't dare attack cops. That's the quickest way to earn yourself a trip to the hospital.” He takes a swig from his beer and lets out a soft, bitter chuckle.

"You want to know why people took a few seconds to get the picture? There was no biting, not at first. We've seen too many zombie movies. We think these things are just teeth on legs, groaning and biting chunks of flesh out of anything with a heartbeat. Zombies – yeah, I know I shouldn't be calling them that – they only bite when they're hungry. That's why most of Bangkok ended up dead rather than turned. Zombies will sooner beat you to death than eat you for lunch."

"I tell you, George Romero should be shot. People were taken by surprise, acting like they were up against movie monsters. I saw a lot of people try to stand their ground with improvised weapons, expecting to give these fuckers a quick crack on the head when they lumbered in. They must have had the fright of their lives when the undead came sprinting, throwing their fists just as hard as real people."

"So how did they attack at first?" I know the answer already. I've seen the snatches of shaky, low-res video a few people around the city managed to upload before the signal dropped out.

"The truth is they're not so different from us. The only real difference is that the little thing most of us have in our heads that makes us stop punching when the other guy goes down is switched off. These fuckers attacked like they were on PCP. Fucking vicious, like a beaten wife who's had enough after years of taking the belt. They used everything they had. Fists. Feet. Fingernails. By the time they were finished with the cop there wasn't much left. Even his eyes were gouged out. Nobody was eating him, though. I guess they weren't peckish."

"Had people started panicking?"

"No, not at first. It only started to go crazy when the group backed away from the cop. That's when people saw it wasn't a regular fight. No way you could make that mistake, not after seeing the body." He stops for a moment as a young family walks by the table, then leans in and continues with a low voice. “You ever seen a riot? A real one, I mean. Not just a protest, but a full on riot? You wouldn't believe it until you saw one. You just can't imagine how much power there is in a crowd. You'd think you could just slip out and get to the edge, but it doesn't work like that. As soon as those things turned towards the crowd, that's when people started to panic. There were enough of the fuckers to block the street, so there was only one way to run: back into the crowd. As soon as that happened, everyone was doomed."

I understand what he means. I remember watching footage of the Hillsborough disaster as a child. 96 people died and almost 800 were injured when crowds at a British soccer stadium crushed forward against crowd control barriers during a cup semi-final. The people at the back of the crowd had no idea they were killing people. There was no way they could have known.

"The problem with Sala Daeng is that you've got a few thousand people packed into a tight space. There's music, laughter, yelling. No way anyone could hear the screaming over the noise. People started to push and shove desperately into the crowd, but what else is new? The crowd just pushed right back and threw their water. It wasn't until someone knocked over the big speakers at the side of the street that the music cut out, and suddenly everyone could hear."

For a moment Paul seems to drift away from me. His eyes lose their focus, and when he continues it's with an odd tone, as if he's reading from a script.

"A scream is... it's a strange noise. You've been hearing them all your life in the movies, but real screams don't sound like that. Actors can't do 'em justice. It's like the difference between a fake laugh and a real one, you know? You can't mistake them. What I heard that day I pray never to hear again. People were screaming so much their voices gave out, but it still wasn't loud enough to drown out the pleading. People were begging for mercy even as their bones broke." He shivers, despite the close heat.

"One girl, some skinny blonde tourist with a long ponytail, panicked and tried to run through the pack to get back to Soi Convent. One of them grabbed her hair, easy as you like, and just tugged it right off her head. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. Fucker just pulled and pulled until her whole scalp just slipped off. Someone must have bit her in the crowd, because she was back on her feet a minute later and joining in the fight for the other side, that ponytail still hanging by a strip of skin halfway down her neck."

I cringe with disgust at the image. I've seen a few walkers with horrific injuries, thankfully on TV rather than up close, and it's all I can do not to wonder how they'd come by them. I thank God I'd never had to watch as someone was turned, or killed.

"Everyone else, of course, pushed right into the crowd. Once the music was gone and people started to hear the screams they all started to shove, but when you've got a few thousand people crowding down half a mile of street it's impossible to get everyone moving as one. Hundreds were trampled. The unlucky ones at the back... well, they were torn to shreds. The really lucky ones, those at the other end of the street, some of them must have managed to get away. It was the people in the middle who lasted the longest. They were squeezed in by the crowds. Some of them managed to stay on their feet. Maybe some even managed to slip away into the shops along the street. That's what I hoped Ogi had done."

"You said you saw her again? In the crowd?"

Paul falls silent for a moment. He stubs out his beedi on the surface of the wooden table, ignoring the ashtray by his bottle.

"Yeah, I... I think so. Seems stupid to say this, but I can't be sure. You know how people say all Asians look alike? Well, it's bullshit. Ogi was Mongolian, looked more Korean than anything else. She definitely didn't look Thai. In that crowd, though, I couldn't have picked her out if she'd been wearing a big sign. Almost everyone had black hair, and I was looking down from above. Everyone was moving too much, squeezing, pushing, pulling. The whole crowd moved like the ocean. Waves of movement pulled people this way and that. Some people tried to scramble over the top, only to fall down and get trampled beneath thousands of feet.

"I think I saw her dress. She was wearing this long, flowing blue floral thing I'd bought for her a couple of weeks earlier in Cambodia. She loved that dress. Said it made her feel like a Parisian, whatever that means. She clambered up on a big plant pot at the side of the street, and I saw her for just a second before she vanished. Whether she fell, jumped or was pulled I have no idea. I just know she vanished backwards behind the plants, and that was the last I saw."

"Did you try to call her phone?" I ask.

Paul shoots me a withering look. "Of course I tried to fucking call," he snaps. "I called, I sent texts. I called her sister at Bumrungrad Hospital. I called all of our friends. The network was busy every time. Of course that was later. When it all started I had my own problems to deal with. There's another thing I'd like to speak to Romero about. These things are quick as hell. As long as they haven't injured their legs they're just as fast as you and me. It's only later that they slow down, when their joints dry out. When it all kicked off, though... fuck, they could move."

"You were chased?"

Paul nods. "I was chased. I made the same stupid 'movie zombie' mistake. I assumed I'd be safe up on the walkway above the street. It never occurred to me that they could climb stairs. I didn't think they could
think
. I was still looking down at the street when I heard a scream to my right, and I turned just in time to see a young Thai woman tip over the railings to escape one of them. She landed with her legs straight, feet first on the street, just behind the pack. I almost imagined I could hear her bones snap. I didn't stick around to watch what happened next.

"Everyone started running towards the stairs, heading for the street, but I could see there were too many down there already. A few of the bastards at the back of the crowd had already started to turn away and head back towards the station. Anyway, my decision was made for me."

"How so?"

"The fucker at the top of the stairs locked on to me. Just stared me down from fifty feet away. For a moment – and I know this is stupid – I wondered if I could just slowly back away, no sudden movements, as if I was dealing with one of those crazy soi dogs that run around the city. No chance. The second I twitched he started sprinting at me.

"
You know, people who've seen the movies will tell you there's nothing more terrifying than a zombie shambling towards you, groaning all the way like Frankenstein's monster. Film critics say there's something about the slow, unrelenting pace that taps into our primal fear, but I'd like to see one of them come up against a runner. If you're ever unlucky enough to meet a freshly turned fucker you'll know it's bull. I'll see your groaning zombie and raise you a pair of my damp trousers that there's nothing more terrifying than one of them silently sprinting at you full pelt. Fortunately mine hadn't been too quick on his feet when he was alive. He was a little heavy, and he seemed to have trouble running in his sandals. I kicked mine off my feet and shot off down the walkway, towards the MRT station at the end of Silom Road."

I glance down at the hastily sketched map in my pad. "Isn't that where the rest of the infected were heading, too?"

"Yeah, but I had the advantage that I wasn't stopping along the way to rip thousands of people to pieces. The walkway was almost empty, and I soon passed over the crowd. The one chasing me peeled off, too. I risked a look behind me on the straight, and I saw him throw himself over the railing towards the crowd. That's one thing that came in handy. They'll always go for the easiest target. If you can run them in the direction of a limping granny you'll probably get away safe."

Paul notices my expression.

"What, you think you wouldn't? Fuck you, Tom. Trust me, if you ever saw how they kill up close you'd soon change your mind. It's easy to be a hero in theory. In real life... well, you find out pretty fucking quick how brave you really are."

He pauses for a moment, lifts his drink for a swig then reconsiders. “I got back down to street level on the corner of Silom Road and Rama IV. The underground station was right there, but there was no way I'd head down beneath the streets. Unless there was a train waiting for me on the platform... well, I don't want to think would have happened if I'd been trapped down there between the platform barriers. Thousands tried to escape that way, and they're still clearing out the bodies today.

"I ran across the street towards Lumphini Park, the only real green space in the city. Behind me I could hear the traffic go crazy as people were pulled from their cars. As I reached the park gate I turned to see what was happening. I wish I hadn't. It's strange how irrational people become when they're afraid. I saw people jump into cabs that were snarled up in traffic, yelling at the drivers even as the dead came in through the windows. If only they'd kept running they might have gotten away."

"Why do you think they did that? Got in the cabs, I mean," I ask, realizing the pointlessness of the question. Paul looks at me like I'm simple.

"How the fuck should I know? Maybe they thought these things couldn't open doors. They'd be right, for the most part, but a few dozen of them pounding on a window is just as good. A tuk tuk almost managed to get away, jumping onto the sidewalk and cutting through the crowds, living and dead. If only it hadn't hit a hydrant it may have made it, too, but it clipped the steel and bounced off into a shop window. The whole thing went up in flames – those things are death traps at the best of times – and I started running again as the shop began to burn. I can't be sure, but I think that was the start of the fire that tore through all of Silom. I'm damned certain nobody came back to fight it."

"How did you make it to safety? Wasn't your apartment in Thonglor?"

"Yep. It was at least five kilometers as the crow flies, and longer through the streets. I ran all the way once I was in the park. Didn't stop for a breath. Made a few wrong turns, too. Luckily for me, between Lumphini and Thonglor there weren't any train lines. It wasn't until I reached my apartment block that I realized they'd used the trains to overtake me. Some of the wounded from Silom must have made it up to the platform at Sala Daeng. Some may have even made it all the way to Ratchadamri. I know they didn't turn until they reached the interchange at Siam, 'cause some of them had switched to the Sukhumvit line before it hit them.