Sudden Death: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

“We need to cut through the museum grounds to get to the nick,” he told the fatigued men and woman.

When Jenna saw that this meant climbing over yet another wall that stood in their way, she felt utterly deflated. The men helped her over again though, and on the other side, they found themselves in the museum’s large empty car park.

“This place has a secure perimeter and the main gate would have been locked when this all first went bent,” Muz said, as they paused momentarily to look all around them and listen intently for any tell-tale sounds. “There shouldn’t be anyone in these grounds.”

Cutting between two of the several large buildings, they emerged at the front of the museum and there saw a couple of spitfires mounted on poles a few feet off the ground. Once working machines, which had helped the Alliance win the Second World War, now they were nothing more than sculptural pieces, positioned to give the impression that they were frozen in mid-flight.

Near them, there was a huge piece of abstract modern art that Muz had guessed, when he had first seen it, was meant to represent the power and speed of a jet-powered aircraft taking off. Despite getting the implication of dramatic movement from the static structure, his overriding opinion of it had always been that it
was just a huge pile of shit. He knew that if someone were to tell him how much it had cost, he would end up becoming absurdly angry.

The rest of the group scurried past the sculpture without the slightest thought for it
, and on the far side of the car park, they found themselves confronted by a thirteen foot brick wall. It was the final barrier to stand between them and their goal, the police station.

“Well, we’re not getting over that,” Chuck stated flatly but with a slight pleading edge to his voice, as though he were begging the others not to make him try.

“Follow me,” Muz said, and to Chuck’s relief, led them along a narrow strip between the impassable wall and a huge hangar.

At the other end of the hangar
, they found themselves mere feet from Grahame Park Way. All that now stood between them, the road and the nick was a seven-foot fence comprised of vertical metal bars. The fence was topped by a horizontal rail instead of the more usual spikes, which made clambering over it fairly easy.

Once the last of them was over and standing on the road, the
y quickly and furtively scurried across the lawn at the front of the police station. As Muz led them past the public front double doors, they activated a motion sensor and the doors automatically swung open. As one, Jenna, Carl and Chuck all jumped in fright at the sudden unexpected motion.

Without even slowing his stride
, as he headed for the side gate, Muz looked into the reception. Obviously there were no members of the public there, waiting to be dealt with but there were also no officers to be seen on the other side of the counter behind the security glass. This alone worried Muz, but what really unnerved him were the bloody handprints smeared down the glass and the counter. From the brief glimpse he got however, the blood appeared only to be on this side of the counter, the glass security panels and the electronic doors were all intact. He therefore still clung to the hope that the nick had not succumbed to an attack.

At the police only side entrance, barred by electronic pedestrian and vehicle gates that no
one was going to force their way through, he hastily swiped his warrant card through the card reader. A little red light illuminated next to it.

“Oh, for f...,” Muz growled, while the others, standing impotently by, looked nervously around them.

He wiped the card against his trousers a couple of times then tried again. To his relief, this time a green light lit up and there was a loud click, as the electronic lock disengaged. Muz pushed on the heavy gate, waited for the others to follow him through, and pushed it firmly back in place. Only when he heard the second click of the lock re-engaging did he finally feel safe and emit a huge sigh of immense relief. Tears actually threatened to well in his eyes and he had to blink away the build-up of fluid repeatedly. He had finally made it.

Chapter 5

M
ad Mandy

They entered the police station via the side entrance, just beyond the sturdy security gate. It required another swipe from Muz’s warrant card before the building’s automated security system would allow them inside. It all felt very secure and comforting.

Inside, they passed through a short corridor and found themselves stood at the bottom of a stairwell.
Carl clutched both fists tight around his crowbar, holding it up to his shoulder in readiness to defend against a sudden attack. As they peered up between the flights that ascended all the way up to the building’s third and uppermost floor, they could not make out any movement on the stairs. There was not a sound to be heard. The empty silence of the place was a stark contrast to the manic, panicked bustle that had filled the building when Muz had last been here only two days ago, prior to being driven off on the police carrier and dumped on a cordon he couldn’t have hoped to control. How long ago that now seemed.

Right now, the only sound to fall on Muz’s ears was that of Jenna’s nervous breathing, as she stood up close beside him, her body almost pressed against his, as she joined him in looking up between the stairs. Muz glared at her grumpily and she responded like a chastised child, immediately backing away, with a wounded look in her eyes.

Sticking to the ground floor, they walked over to the door that led to the main corridor, opened it, and again peered tentatively through, waiting momentarily to assess the situation beyond. Again, there was nothing to greet them but silence.

“Looks like the place has been evacuated,” Chuck declared.

Muz nodded in agreement but remained quiet. He still wasn’t satisfied there was no one besides them in here. Of course the station had been evacuated; it was within the containment area and had therefore been abandoned, just like everything and everyone else. Until now, Muz had naively thought of the nick as an impenetrable sanctum of safety. How stupid he had been, he realised. From the front reception, the premises had still looked secure though, and there were no obvious signs of it having been overrun.

Pushing their way through
another set of internal fire doors, they found themselves by the lifts now, with the door to the rear yard to their right. With the others still following him without question, Muz walked over to the door to the yard and pressed a large button on the wall. The automatic door swung open, allowing the cold air to flood in. Muz stepped out and looked around him.

“Someone hold onto the door,” he said over his shoulder.

It wasn’t that if the door closed and immediately locked itself behind them, they wouldn’t be able to get back in. Like the other external doors of the building, it simply required a swipe of Muz’s card to gain access, but should they suddenly find themselves under attack out here, he didn’t want to waste any time getting back inside.

The entire back yard was completely empty of any vehicles, except for a few mopeds, over by the smoking shelter, which judging by the labels hanging from their handlebars had been seized as evidence. Muz had never seen the car park so utterly barren. The area was easily capable of housing in excess of one hundred and fifty cars
, and yet, normally, it was a struggle to find a single bay in which to park.

Although the solidity of the
thirteen-foot high brick walls that surrounded the backyard on all sides provided an ample defence from the afflicted people running riot in the streets, Muz suddenly had a strong feeling of being penned in. He was painfully aware that if the building were somehow breached, there would be no chance of escape and their attackers would be able to pick them off rapidly.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” he said, trying to keep any nervous tremors out of his voice.

The PCs’ writing room, where most patrol officers complete their paperwork, was situated just past the lifts, to the right of the reception office. Muz marched in and slumped into one of the several damaged swivel chairs. As the other three entered the room however, they stopped and took in the chaotic mess that surrounded them. Piles of paperwork and torn open evidence bags lay strewn over the desks between the computer terminals. Dirty tea and coffee cups were everywhere. One had been knocked over, spilling its contents on the papers. Another had a half-eaten sandwich stuffed in it, which had swollen and turned brown, having sucked up the contents of the mug. In a corner, an overflowing and stinking bin stood at the centre of a pile of screwed up balls of paper, which had missed their target. One notice board was completely covered in Polaroid photos of various officers caught in compromising scenarios, asleep at their desks or in police cars, female police officers dressed in provocative and revealing fancy dress costumes at some social event. One picture showed an officer with a big smile giving a double thumbs-up as he stood at the scene of a particularly nasty looking pile up involving four crushed and mangled cars. The word ‘prick’ had been written in biro over his forehead.

“What a shit hole,”
was Chuck’s honest opinion.

“What happened here?” Jenna asked, thinking the disarray must be the result of recent events.

“It’s always like this,” Muz replied with a shrug.

“Wow,”
Chuck remarked.

“A po
ster of Chuck Norris? Seriously?” Carl said, as he looked at the print on one wall of the bearded action hero whose tanned and oiled torso and arms were being proudly flexed.

“I think it’s meant to be ironic,” Muz said defensively.

“Chuck Norris died twenty years ago,” Carl said, reading out one of the many jokes printed on the bottom of the poster. “Death just hasn’t built up the courage to tell him yet.”

“Very apt,” Chuck said solemnly.

Pushing aside the piles of paper and other rubbish, Muz dragged one of the phones on the desks over to him and took the opportunity to call his wife again. Seeing this, the other two men pushed aside the half-eaten food, crisp packets and paperwork until they too found themselves phones. While the three men struggled to remember the numbers they were trying to dial, Jenna stood in the doorway, nervously looking up and down the corridor.

“Farah?” Muz said when he heard someone pick up.

“Mustafa!” his wife cried out in response.

“Farah
, I…”

“We’ve been so worried,”
Farah said, her voice filled with relief. “Have you managed to get out?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Oh.., I thought you were calling to tell me…” Muz could hear his wife trying to fight back her tears.

“I’m still okay though,” Muz assured her. “I’ve just had a bit of a setback
, but I’ll be back home before you know it.”

“
Your mother and father are here,” Farah told him. “They stayed here last night. And your brother is flying over from Turkey.”

“Tell them I’m okay and I look forward to seeing them all soon.” He said this in an effort to convince himself as
much as them. All the while, he kept his eyes on Jenna where she was stood keeping watch, looking for any sign from her that she might have seen or heard something.

“Mustaf
a, a news crew arrived here last night,” Farah went on.

“What?”

“They’ve been waiting outside the house ever since. Every time I open the door they…”

“Listen, Farah, do not talk to them,” Muz told her, feeling himself flush with anger. The other
s in the room with him looked up at his sudden increase in volume.

“I
haven’t,” Farah said.

“Good. Tell everyone not to talk to them, including the neighbours.” Muz hated the idea of those sick bastards making a living off the misery of his family.

“Where are you?” Farah asked.

“I’ve made it back to the police station. I thought it would be safe here but it’s now inside the affected area
, and I still haven’t seen any signs of any quarantine borders. I need to know where I should be heading. Do you know where the cordons are now?”

“No,” Farah replied, unable to stop herself from crying any longer. “I’ve been watching the news constantly, so
that I would be able to help you as much as possible if you rang again. But I don’t know; the news has been very vague about how far the riots have spread.”

“Okay, never mind. Don’t worry about it,” Muz told her, trying to calm her down
, while keeping his own emotions in check. “I’d better go.”

“No, please don’t,” Farah begged him.
“Fatima wants to speak to you.”

“No,” Muz protested strongly. “Please don’t put her on. I couldn’t handle it,” he begged. He knew hearing his young daughter’s voice would instantly reduce him to tears and he could not bear to have her hear him in such distress.

“Okay, but please stay and talk to me some more,” Farah pleaded. “I’ve being sitting awake all night, waiting just to hear your voice again.”

“I have to
go, honey. I’m sorry but I want to get out of here before the end of the day.” The idea of spending another night, too afraid to sleep, amid all this madness was too much for Muz to deal with.

“Okay, baby. I love you,” Farah told him.

“I love you too.”

Muz reluctantly hung up and rested his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. He could hear Carl still talking on the phone.

“How’s little Lucy holding up?” he heard the man say. “Is she missing me? She’s off her food? That’s not good. Tell her daddy’s fine and I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Was that your wife?
” Muz asked when Carl hung up.

“What? Wife?” Carl replied. “No, I’m not married. It was, Sarah, my cleaning lady.”

“Oh right,” Muz replied, a little confused. “Is your daughter okay?”

“Daughter?” Carl said, also looking confused now.

“Lucy?”

“Lucy’s my cat,” Carl stated matter-of-factly, without an ounce of embarrassment.

Jenna, who had been listening in to the conversations, actually laughed out loud. When Carl shot her a look, she rapidly turned and looked intently down the corridor again, feigning innocence.

Chuck was oblivious. He too had finished
his phone conversation and now simply sat staring into space, a blank but steely expression on his face. Only the slight amount of moisture gathering in his eyes conveyed any emotion. He wiped at his eyes and now looked around to check whether anyone had been watching him in his moment of weakness.

“You okay?
” Muz asked him.

“Yes
, fine,” Chuck replied defensively and got to his feet. “So, what now?”

“We should get cleaned up,” Muz replied.

Saying that made him sound decisive and as though he still had some sort of plan, which he knew the others needed to hear. In truth, he was stalling, while he mulled over their bleak options.

They walked back down the corridor, past the lifts and the exit to the back yard, past the bottom of the stairwell, to its
end, which was blocked by a locked door. Muz stood a moment and tried to look through the spy hole fitted in the centre of the door. It was designed for people to look out however, and he could see very little of the room beyond. Nonetheless, he stared through the optic for close to a minute until he was reasonably confident there was no movement within.

On the wall beside the door was an electronic keypad. Muz pressed a sequence of digits
, careful to obstruct the others from seeing the code by putting his body in the way of their line of sight. It had been so drilled into him that even now in the current situation, he was conscious of not divulging the security code.

“I’m just going into the custody area. Wait here, I won’t be long,” he said to the others.

Given the present circumstances, he didn’t much like the idea of being responsible for several members of the public wandering around the detention area. Every corner of every room beyond this point was covered by CCTV cameras and, should anything happen to any of them, he was ultimately responsible for their wellbeing. The thought of potentially being at the centre of an internal investigation in regards to him ‘neglecting’ his duty of care, or even facing criminal charges, as he was forced over and over again to watch the footage of these people dying at the hands of mad cannibals, was more than enough for him to chance entering the custody facility alone.

That was the nature of the job these days though; every action a police officer took in his role made him question how it could lead to him eventually losing his job. It was often a case of being damned if you do and damned if you don’t. The higher ranks always stated they would ‘have the back’ of any officer facing public criticism while having acted in line with police power
s and policy. The truth however, was more often that they would quickly hang the poor officer out to dry, rather than lose public faith in the organisation as a whole.

Jenna looked at Muz
with fretful hound dog eyes. She was surprised by how much she feared being separated from this copper. The woman tried to nudge past him through the door, partly because of this irrational fear of abandonment and partly – probably more so – because she knew there to a doctor’s office in the custody facility, where there would be a plethora of assorted drugs.