When There's No More room In Hell: A Zombie Novel (14 page)

12

It had only been ten days since the worldwide acknowledgement and announcement that the dead were returning to life, but the plague and its results had been raging for months. Starting in remote areas of Africa and South America, then spreading to the Middle East and Asia, before eventually leaping and taking hold of the northern hemisphere and, after a while, mutating once again to become an invisible blanket across the world, causing all the dead to rise.

The virus
had spread like wildfire through the heavily populated cities and within weeks, the literal death grip of the virus was firmly wrapped around the neck of civilisation and the future of the human race.

The
dead from the flu and bites had been returning for some time and the eventual confirmation and acknowledgement of the catastrophic effects of the virus were too late to stop the spread or change the outcome. Even before the time of the latest mutation and the subsequent announcement, the virus was in full swing. Leaping from person to person, some would suffer the usual effects of flu symptoms while others turned aggressive and attacked the people around them, causing them to eventually die and then come back to prey on the living.

By the time of the final mutation, t
housands upon thousands of corpses that had not been autopsied or embalmed lay in morgues, funeral homes and in their beds, began to reanimate virtually overnight and add to the already increasing spread of attacks from the aggressive strain and unacknowledged, already reanimated.

Within weeks of the flu virus spreading to Europe and North America, the world had become a giant tomb a
nd the lid slowly closed over seven billion people.

Now, Andy
Moorcroft’s body lay still. It sat slumped, shoulders against the wall of the house with legs spread in front and its chin against its chest. The body’s skin was pale and yellowed slightly, and its hands had turned a deep pink as the blood had settled there.

The crowd of dead still clambered at the front of
the house, though the group had thinned out a little with nothing to hold their interest anymore.

Large grey clouds gathered in the night sky
blocking out the moon and stars and blanketing the landscape in complete darkness. The usual lights of the cities and towns were slowly failing. The horizon no longer had the glowing haze of the nocturnal lighting that automatically came on at a specified time.

Many of
the once brightly lit motorways and roads that ran through the country like a network of tarmac arteries and veins were now dark. The road signs no longer lit and the electronic boards offering cautions and traffic announcements of the road ahead were dark blank windows that hung above the once busy lanes below that, in many places, had become a stalled mass of cars, buses, caravans and trucks.

Some
areas were without power, with no one to maintain the power grids and continue to supply the houses and streets with electricity. Many streets became eerie dark corridors of brick and cement with houses and buildings standing as black monoliths against the charcoal sky.

Heavy drops of rain began to fall, splashing hard on the
surfaces of the roads and rooftops, causing a crescendo of noise. No longer was there the noise of people to dull the sound of the rain. There was no chatter in the homes. TVs and stereos had stopped blaring out their entertaining noises and the sound of car engines and horns had ceased to add to the ambient sounds of the night. Even the animals had taken to hiding during the night time and sat in the safety of the shadows, watching quietly from a distance.

The rain confused some of the infected that
roamed the streets, causing some to search in the direction of the sounds of the droplets bouncing off car roofs with metallic thuds, then stalking in different directions with confusion as they heard the rain bounce from other objects nearby.

Others stopped and stood
, gazing directly above them as the rain cascaded down their slowly rotting faces and blistering skin and into their shabby clothes, waterlogging them and creating an even more pathetic and bedraggled appearance as their clothing hung from their bodies with the weight of the water.

Andy’s once immaculately styled and clea
ned hair became plastered to the forehead, looking greasy and unkempt. After nearly six hours of complete stillness, the left hand twitched, very slightly at first, but then with more deliberate movements. It was soon joined by both legs bending at the knees as the rest of the body tried to sit up. There was no breath escaping from the deflated lungs and no fresh intake.

Andy was still very much dead.

The head raised and the eyes opened, staring into the sky. It had been the last thing Andy had looked at in life and the first thing Andy saw in death. The vibrant twinkling eyes of a man in his prime with everything to look forward to had been replaced by the lifeless, flat, misted eyes of a corpse. The good looking features were unrecognisable as the blood pressure had ceased, causing the nose to seem more like a crooked beak and the lips to become thin colourless lines around the mouth.

It had stopped raining and the stars shone again
. As Andy stared into the night sky, something stirred inside. It wasn’t a conscious thought but more of an instinct and it was forcing the body to stand up. Clumsily, like a newly born gazelle taking its first steps, the body of Andy Moorcroft struggled to its feet. It stood for a moment staring at the wall of the house, then gazing at the floor and eventually, its hands as it raised them slightly. Reaching out with both arms, it tried to grasp the wall. As the fingers touched the brick, something registered in the misfiring brain and pulled the hands back and studied them before reaching for the wall once more and following it to the back of the house.

Unless there was something to grasp their attention
and force them in a certain direction, the dead rarely took shortcuts and instead, followed the linear paths and roads that acted like a guide to their badly functioning brains, unable to reason that there were quicker and easier ways of getting about.

Andy’s body bounced
from the wall a few times as it lost its balance and scraped the hands and face against the rough brick, creating raw scuff marks on the skin. The pale pink flesh underneath became exposed but with no blood flow, as would be expected from the living. The body continued to the rear of the house and along the garden path toward the gate leading into the alleyway. It was still open and Andy’s reanimated corpse was soon shuffling clumsily along the dark empty street.

No thoughts occurred
in its brain, not even memories or desires. The powers of deliberation weren’t there and there was no real reason to walk in that particular direction. Andy’s body just walked and followed the path in front of its shuffling uncoordinated feet.

The eyes took in what objects they
could see in the gloom but nothing in the brain registered what they were. Cars and houses held no meaning anymore; it was just instinct that recognised them as obstacles that needed to be negotiated.

The legs kept moving automatically
in the same direction that the street curved without even seeming aware that the sky was brightening and the night was coming to an end.

Only when the sun cast the first long morning shadows of the buildings
and the first birdsong erupted did Andy’s corpse look up. It stopped and stared into the pinks and purples of the morning sky and watched as the night faded into the horizon. Shadows of trees cast in the road moved gently in the breeze and Andy’s dead eyes watched them. Somehow it knew that the moving shadows were not something that it could touch, and although at first the clumsy figure had reached out as though to grasp for them, it paused and followed the length of the shadow to the source.

The tree swayed gently, its leaves rustling. Andy stood below it and
looked up into the branches. Reaching for the tree, the fingers touched the bark then pulled back; the dark eyes studied the wrinkled digits on the hand and the green smudge that the bark had left on the fingertips.

For a long time, the body of And
y Moorcroft stood staring up into the tall tree. Watching the branches sway and in a hypnotic state, Andy’s body too was swaying rhythmically with them. The birds had fallen silent, as all the animals had learned to do when the dead were close, but it was the tree itself that held Andy’s interest.

For hours the body
stood there. Nothing other than the tree attracted any attention. There were other bodies moving in the street, slowly shuffling in different directions and occasionally bumping into objects, but nothing registered in Andy’s less than perfect mind other than the tree and its hypnotic movements.

A sound, d
ifferent to the tree, forced Andy to stagger back into the road. It wasn’t the sounds already heard like the wind or the rustling leaves. It was different, and Andy’s badly functioning mind knew that it needed to follow. No reasoning told Andy why the sound needed to be followed, no memories of the sound came forward, no emotions or thoughts about why it was important to move toward the source, just a driving force that surged through what was left of the brain urged the body along.

It
staggered along the street, the sound becoming louder, rumbling in the ears as it drew near. It was another object that caught Andy’s attention. Another moving object, but it moved much quicker than the tree and the other figures shambling about in the street as it ran down the garden path and to the car that was creating the noise. Andy’s pace quickened and became an uncoordinated staggering and jerky run as some deep primeval need caused it to move toward the moving figure. Raising both arms in front and grasping at the vision, even though it was still a distance away, Andy wanted it. Nothing explained why, but it was an urge that would force the once successful young businessman forward, regardless. Every part of Andy’s dead body felt drawn to the moving figure.

Something
deep inside was travelling through Andy’s body and it soon erupted from the throat; a gurgling sound that turned into a long needy groan. A feeling, a strong unmistakable feeling, surged through Andy.

More than anything, he wanted, needed
, to get closer. He didn't know why, but he had to get closer no matter what.

The man spun
and turned in his direction and stared for a moment, then disappeared into the car and sped away.

Andy followed
at a brisk but clumsy pace until the car had gone from sight and he couldn’t hear it anymore. His legs slowed and he watched into the distance in the direction that the car had gone and let out a deep sorrowful groan.

Then,
as though he had forgotten all about it, Andy continued to walk.

13

Jennifer was pacing the living room, wringing her hands and now and then opening the blinds in the window just enough with her fingers to look outside. She was nervous and didn't like the idea of venturing out into the open. She had seen the reports on the TV and listened to the radio. The night before, Steve had given her a rough account of what he and Sarah had experienced on their journey to her house. And none of it inspired confidence in the plan to her.

As far as she was concerned, they were safer where they were.

Steve had argued, “Jen, if it continues the way it’s going, then eventually, they’ll be running up and down the road just outside. And if they find out you're in here, then you'll be trapped.”

“Bu
t,” Jennifer had argued back, “what if we get there and those things are there too? I think we should wait here for Marcus.”

“Jen, you know as well as I do that it could be months before he makes it through. In the meantime, we need to get ourselves safe and organised for him.” He let out a sigh and raised himself from the couch where he had slept the night be
fore. “I know you're scared, Jen. Fuck me, I am too. But we can’t stay here. I know the best route to get there and, I promise if it looks like it’s too much of a risk, then we will turn back. Okay?”

Jennifer crossed her arms and wiped a tear from her eye as she nodded. “Okay
, Steve. You're right.”

Steve placed his arms around her and gave her a reassuring rub across her back. He promised to look after them and that was exactly what he would do, as if they were his own.

“Right then, do we have everything we need?”

He walked in
to the hallway and looked down at the bags and boxes he and Jennifer had packed the night before. They had taken all the food that could be used as well as cooking pots and other utensils. They had filled large plastic water containers and grabbed whatever spare clothing and camping equipment that they thought would come in use. A couple of sleeping bags that they had found amongst Marcus’ old army gear had been a great addition.

On top of the pile, they had added what they could use as weapons, mainly tools from the garage including a small hand axe that Steve had added to his growing collection on his belt.
He looked back at Jennifer who was holding a small lump hammer in her hands and staring down at it.

“Jen, if anything happens, just get out of the way. Marcus will skin me alive if anything happened to you.” He grinned slightly as he said it, doing his best to calm her nerves. She returned the smile.

He pulled out his phone and began calling Claire, Sarah’s mother. The line was dead. He had tried the night before and had the same then. He had text and told her of the plan in the hope that she was still safe and that she should stay where she was until he came for her. He received no reply and he avoided telling Sarah. Instead, he just said that he was waiting till they got somewhere safe, then he would go for her.

They loaded the boxes and bags in
to the back of the Range Rover and Steve began checking over the vehicle. The tank was three quarters full, all fluids were good and the tyres looked like new. It was spacious and comfortable inside and he couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle to himself as he sat behind the wheel listening to the engine. It was Marcus’ pride and joy, and no matter how many times Steve had asked for a drive the closest he ever got was riding shot gun.

He left the engine running and went back inside to check on the rest of them.

“Okay, listen up. I've already explained where and why we’re going and all I need from you kiddies, is that you do exactly as us grownups say.” He looked down at Sarah and winked, she beamed back at him. “Whatever happens, you stay in the car unless we say otherwise. Okay?”

Liam and David actually seemed quite excited by it all and answered up with an enthusiastic
, “Yup.”

Steve could see that Sarah looked a little less l
ike she was on an adventure than the other two and he moved over to her, dropping to one knee and speaking quietly, “You okay buddy?”

She looked back at him
. “Yeah, do you think there’ll be many of them out there, Dad?” She nodded towards the door as she spoke.

“If there is, then it shouldn’
t be a problem as long as we’re careful. We've got uncle Marcus’ big car remember, and that can get us through anything. What I need from you though is to look after David and Liam. You're the oldest, so you're the boss of the kids, and on top of that, you're a veteran and they're not.”

Sarah looked confused for a moment, screwing her eyebrows together and eyeing her father as though he has lost the plot slightly. “A veteran, isn’t that an animal doctor?”

He smiled and looked down, before looking back up into her innocent curious eyes. “No darling, that's a veterinarian. A veteran is someone who has been there and done it, like you did yesterday on the way here. Like soldiers who have been to war.”

“Ah.” She understood and seemed to inflate
slightly with pride.

Once in the car, Steve inched out t
he heavy, but surprisingly easy to handle, vehicle into the road, he and Jennifer constantly glancing left and right. At one time, they would have done that looking out for other vehicles approaching; now they did it looking out for infected. The road was clear and Steve spun the wheel, forcing the vehicle to turn left.

They pass
ed down the quiet country lanes; Steve driving and Jennifer navigating, and through small scenic villages. The streets were deserted with most people having either fled, or staying indoors. The government had urged people to keep off the streets and to avoid heavily populated areas. It seemed that most of the country still tried to do as they were told. As far as Steve felt, it was a bonus and meant that they were less likely to run into trouble; broken down traffic or otherwise.

The children remained calm and quiet in the back, with Liam falling asleep
, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. Sarah watched out of the window at the fields and scattered farms as they headed deeper in to the countryside. Even Jennifer seemed to relax and became less nervous.

T
hree miles into their journey, the road narrowed and Steve had to slam on the breaks to avoid crashing head on into the rear of a broken down small white van.

As the Range Rover came to a
screeching halt, Steve swore into the steering wheel, “I fucking knew things were going too smoothly.” Jennifer began to look nervous again. “It’s okay, Jen. I’ll just have to see if we can get around it, and if not, then we’ll look for a different route on the map.”

Just one look at the narrow gap between the side of the van and the high hedgerow t
old him they would have to backtrack the way they had come. He was about to curse again when he saw movement from in front of the van. He had already put the van in gear and was about to back away. The figure moved into the open and then raised a hand. It wasn’t the clumsy hand of one of the infected, or the lunging movements of a walking corpse.

“Wait, please wait
,” the woman shouted. She began to work her way around the side of the broken down vehicle and in their direction. Steve lifted the clutch as though he was about to reverse, when Jennifer put her hand on his forearm.

“Steve, wait. She wants our help. We can’t leave her.”

Steve flushed, feeling annoyed. “I told you, Jen, the same as I told Sarah yesterday. We have to look after ourselves. We don’t know who she is, or if she's infected.”

“She doesn’t look infected
, Steve. They don’t talk, do they?”

“Not that I know of,”
he replied.

He was looking back at the woman as she came closer. She didn't sprint and she didn't hobble. Instead, she trotted toward them, in all, looking pretty normal and unthreatening. He squinted
, trying to focus better in the low morning sun, and noticed that she wore a nurse’s uniform. He pressed a button and the window came down with a mechanical whine.

“Stay where you are. Don't come any closer.”

The nurse stopped dead in her tracks. “Okay, but please don’t leave me. Take me with you. I'm alright. I've not been infected or injured.” She pleaded with him.

“We have to help her
, Steve. If you don’t, I will.” Jennifer was adamant.

He rolled his eyes, knowing that if he tried to reverse back Jennifer was likely to either hit him or even jump out of the vehicle to help the woman.

“Right, okay. But I want to check her out first. Shuffle over and get behind the wheel once I get out. At the first sign of trouble, reverse down the road a couple of hundred metres. If I don’t show up after a while, then leave.”

Jennifer nodded and slid a
cross; Steve stepped out onto the road, pulling the hammer free of his belt and lowering it to his side.

“Stay where you are,” h
e gestured to the woman as he spoke, “and if you come any closer, I'll not hesitate to use this.” He raised the hammer slightly and saw in the woman’s face that she understood as she nodded.

He slowly inched his way toward her,
scanning all around to the sides and rear, wary of a possible attack. When he was close enough, he stopped. With just five metres between them Steve could see that the nurse, although looking tired and smeared in blood and dirt, was extremely attractive; small, but perfectly proportioned with jet black hair. In another time and place, he would have wasted no time in trying to chat her up.

But
he eyed her with suspicion now. “You need to move your van. We can’t get past otherwise.”

She glanced back over her shoulder at the broken down
vehicle and then back to Steve. “It won’t move. I don’t know what's up with it. Can I come with you?”

“Jus
t move the fucking van will you? I can’t risk letting you come with us.” He was using the hammer as a pointer, alternating it from the nurse to the van.

She looked at him pleadingly
, tears streaming down her face. “I told you, I'm okay. I'm not infected. This isn’t my blood.” She looked down at herself as she said it, sweeping her arms in a gesture to the stains on her clothing, then back up at Steve. “Please?”

He looked back at Jennifer, unable to read her expression through the window because of the reflection of the low sun. He turned back to the nurse, his heartstrings were tugging at his chest. He had always been a sucker for a pretty face, and even now, in the middle of nowhere and
at the end of the world, he still felt the need to be the protecting alpha male for the damsel in distress.

Feeling awkward and unsure of how to place his words, he swallowed ha
rd and looked down at his shoes. “Right, okay. If you want to come with us, I need to make sure you're safe, okay?”

The nurse nodded without saying
a word. The desperation in her face told Steve that she would comply with anything he said as long as it meant safety.

“Uh...okay then. Now
, listen...” he shuffled his feet like a school kid who knew he was in trouble and trying to think of a story to get him out of it. “I'm no pervert, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I need you to take your clothes off.”

A look of shock and a defensive instinct seemed to spread across the woman’s face, but before she could say anything Steve cut her off, raising
his hand. “Look, for all I know, you could have bites and shit underneath your clothes that you’re hiding. I have my daughter and my brother’s family in the car, and I'm not letting you anywhere near them, or me, before I know you're not infected.”

The nurse seemed to understand and nodded slowly. Looking about, she began to undo the buttons to her tunic and removed it, letting it fall to the floor revealing a black lace bra underneath. Then she started to loosen her trousers. Steve wanted to look anywhere but directly at her, especially in her eyes. Regardless of his best intentions, he still felt like a pervert.

Her trousers were slid to the floor, and surprisingly, the first fleeting thought that ran through Steve’s head was,
and she’s actually wearing matching underwear. Women never do that!
He instantly shook the thought away.

“Raise your arms out to the side and slowly turn around.”

The nurse complied and though she had a perfectly flawless and toned body, he concentrated on looking for bites. He made a conscious effort not to lick his lips, even though it wouldn't have been through lust; they actually were dry in the crisp morning air, but he didn't want her to see him as a leering predator.

She had done a full circle and now stood facing him. Steve looked down at his boots and then back at the car where Jennifer was. He still couldn’t see her through the window and wonder
ed what was going through her mind.

He turned back to the nurse
. “Okay, you look fine to me, uh...I mean okay,” he stumbled, “you can put your clothes back on now.”

She pulled up her trousers and picked up her tunic, all the time watching the man in front of her and seeing how clearly uncomfortable he looked.