When There's No More room In Hell: A Zombie Novel (7 page)

Once they had
everything planned, Marcus decided to give it another five days to see how things would pan out on the world scene. At that moment, everything was unpredictable and not enough overall information was known. In the meantime, they would go over and over the plan, their kit and weapons and ensure that nothing was missed.

Still, very little was coming from Mickey
, and the general consensus was that they would be left to the last minute, if considered at all. The big wigs and powers that-be had taken care of themselves and their interests.

Marcus decided that it was time
to call his brother. Sitting in his room, with the door locked to avoid interruptions, he dialled Steve’s number. It began to ring and Marcus just hoped that the line wouldn’t be unworkable and they could understand what each other was saying.

“Hello?” Steve sounded groggy.

“Steve it’s me, Marcus. Is everything okay? Have you seen the news?”

“How could I not have? It’s on every channel and people are flapping everywhere.”

“Roger that, where are you? Are you safe? Do you have Sarah with you?”

“Yeah, we’re safe and I have her here. I'm gonna keep her with me as well. I've boarded up the door and windows and we’re okay for now. Sounds like the town has gone to shit
, though. I've heard nothing but sirens for the last week. I think that the old couple who live next door have turned into them dead things, too. I heard crashing and banging yesterday and the old lady screaming, but now it’s all quiet.”

Marcus felt a rush of relief knowing that his brother had done everything he could to protect himself and his daught
er. “Okay, Steve, listen; Iraq is going under. The military has seized control of the airports, leaving us stranded. We've decided not to wait about and make our own way out. Otherwise we could just be left here and....”

Steve butted in.
“Hang on. Make your own way out? What do you mean?” His voice had a confused tone to it.

“I mean that some of the lads and me have decided that we will drive, and fight if we have to
, all the way home. We've planned and prepped it as best we can and we decided that we’ll make a push in five days. Everything here is in chaos, the city has gone apeshit and it is best that we allow a soak period.”

“You're gonna drive all the way from Iraq, across the Middle East and Europe to get home? My geography isn’t the best
, Marcus, but how the fuck you gonna do that?”

Marcus sighed
. “Doesn’t matter how, Steve, but we’re gonna give it a go. Beats sitting here waiting for things to get worse, which they will soon, I bet.”

“Right, okay.”

“What I need from you, Steve, before it gets any worse there, is I need you to get to a safe location. Staying in your flat is okay for the time being, but eventually you could find yourself trapped. I spoke to Jennifer when the news broke and also this morning and told her to sit tight, keep the boys with her and secure the doors. She’s packed a couple of small bags for them, with food and clothes, and they're ready to move as soon as you get there....”

Steve butted in again, “As soon as I get there? I wa
sn’t planning on going anywhere.”

Marcus could feel a pang of anger but he forced
himself to swallow it down. “Steve, I've just explained to you that you can’t stay where you are. I've seen reports of this thing from America, and no doubt you have too. If their cities are falling, even though every other person has an arsenal of guns at home, what chance do you think you have with a hammer in your flat? You need to get to somewhere safer and more open and better defended. I dunno where, you’ll have to work that out yourself, but I want you to get Jen and the boys for me and take them with you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment
, then, “Yeah, fair one. You have a point there, bro. I haven’t a clue where to go though. I’m worried about taking Sarah out there, but as you said, here might not be safe for too long. Does Jen still have the four by four?”

“Yeah
, she does.” Marcus wondered where Steve was going with the question. “Why?”

“I was thinking that, we go to yours on foot to avoid the roads, and then we take the Range Rover. My car is a bag of shit anyway, and I couldn’t rely on it.”

“Sounds good to me, Steve, just don’t scratch it.” The quip was lost on Steve, and Marcus could tell that he was concerned, yet the cogs were turning in his head and he was willing to do what was necessary.

“Right then, that’s what I’ll do. It’s too late in the day now though and I don’t
want to risk taking Sarah out in the dark. I’ll check the area first thing in the morning, and if it looks good I’ll grab Sarah and head for yours. It’s only a few miles and I’ll go through the nature reserve; shouldn’t be too many people around at that time of the morning. I’ll phone Jen for you and let her know the plan.”

A smile spread across Marcus’ face. His brother was doing him proud. Gone were the days of the rebellious boy who wouldn’t do anything for anyone and shirke
d responsibility as though it were a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“It means a lot to me
, Steve, and I owe you the world if you can do this.”

“Like you said
, mate, I've no real choice in the matter and Jen is my family too.”

“Thanks Steve. I don’t know how much longer we will have comms. If things are going downhill rapidly, the networks could crash too. So whatever plan you come up with, you need to let me know as soon as possible. I’ll need to know where you are and what the situation is.”

“Will do,” Steve replied.

“Be careful tomorrow
, Steve. Don’t take any unnecessary risks and keep Sarah close. Give her a big kiss for me and tell her, Uncle Marcus is bringing her a tank.”

“You too
, Marcus. Phone me tomorrow.”

T
hey hung up.

Marcus felt calm and a sudden confidence in his brother that he had never experienced before. He had grown up and become a man. Amazing how kids change you.

7

Steve didn't sleep that night. Sarah lay dreaming and twitching on the couch dressed in the clothes that he had insisted she wear, while Steve stood by the kitchen window, listening to the sounds in the streets below and thinking about what he needed to do at first light.

On the horizon, through a gap in the barricaded window, he could see the distinct orange haze on the
skyline of the town, telling him that a part of it, unsure which, was ablaze.

The sirens had stopped and it seemed now that everyone had
been left to their own devices; the police and the authorities had either too much to deal with, or the infection had spread quicker than he had anticipated and they were all gone.

Over the last
week, Steve and Sarah had sat and watched the TV, trying to gain as much information as possible. Sarah was scared. Steve was scared too, but he had to appear to his daughter that he had things under control and that she would come to no harm.

The reports had steadily got
ten worse. Towns, cities and even small rural villages had been overrun by the virus. Army units in helicopters flew rescue missions to save people trapped on rooftops. Police cordoned off entire built up areas only to be overrun, and it shocked him at how fast the thing had spread.

Steve
paused and thought. Though he didn't live in a particularly large city, there was still scope for a rapid spread. Hospitals, funeral homes and the riots themselves were all tinder for the fire. The flu had been going on for weeks, and the dead, according to the news, had begun to reanimate over a week ago.

He had seen numerous reports on the TV over the past
week about the phenomenon that was sweeping the globe and bringing back the dead. Most of what he had seen was of figures shambling, tripping, and in general looking like they were shit faced. He couldn’t see how it had spread. Though he did reason that he found the whole thing hard to believe, and in a larger scale, maybe that had something to do with it. As well as the general disbelief, he also saw the infected violent flu strain victims and the ‘runners’ as they had become known.

The violent flu strain, from what he could gather, was the final stage before the people of that
particular strain died; taking anyone they could with them. Then there were the ‘runners’. As the reports had said, some of the dead could run after reanimation, all depending on their condition before death. The likes of an Olympic Athlete could probably attack twenty people a day, Steve reasoned, on account of their physical fitness.

The more he thought about it, the more scared he became. But still, he hadn’t seen hordes of the infected roaming the streets below yet, so as far as he was concerned, he still had the
upper hand over the mounting enemy.

Early next morning the sun rose over the complex of flats that he lived in.
Bird song filled the air, and when Steve closed his eyes he could almost convince himself that all was normal with the world. But he had to snap himself back to reality quickly before he became lost in his dream land. He needed to focus on his new situation.

He pulled out his phone and dialled for Marcus’ wife.

“Jen it’s me, Steve.”

She sounded worried but in control and not on the verge of a breakdown. Steve explained the plan to her and told her to be ready to move when they got there.

He walked into the living room and gently shook Sarah.

“Oi, sleepy head, wake up lazy bones.” He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible.

Sarah stirred. She groaned and curled into a ball.

“Sarah, you need to wake up sweetheart. Remember what I told you yesterday about our special job for Uncle Marcus? Well we’re about to do it and I can’t do it without you.”

Sarah had always been hard to wake up. Every time she stayed with Steve, he had to keep on at her to get up for school in the morning. He never needed to shout or get angry; it just took gentle coaxing and nudging, then she would suddenly snap wide awake.

“I need you to listen to me. We have to look after ourselves. Things are bad outside and we can’t trust anyone. Even people who we may have known for years or live
d next door to. We have to be sure of everyone. Okay?”

“Are we leaving Dad?”
she sat up and asked.

Steve smiled and stroked her hair
. “Well, we can’t go without breakfast, can we?”

“Good, cause my belly is touching my bum
,” she replied with a sleepy smile.

Steve warmed up two
tins of beans and sausages and they ate the last of the fresh bread together, washing it down with mugs of hot tea.

“Oh I needed th
at, Dad. Are we off to see aunty Jen now?”

“Yup, we are, but I need you to wait here and guard the flat for five minutes while I check the area. Can you do that?”

Sarah still had a mouth full of bread covered in bean juice, and could only manage a nod and ‘Mmm hmm’ with puffed out cheeks and a thumbs up.

Steve slipped out, remembering to take a key with him. He ducked beneath the window of the old couple next door and
crept to the stairwell and peered down. It was empty. Leaning over the balcony he saw that the courtyard and car park were clear too, the street beyond seemed quiet.

Retracing his steps, he stopped and held his ear to the door of his elderly neighbours. All was silent inside and he couldn’t detect any movement. Creeping along, just below the line of view, he paused below the window ledge, his fingertips clutching at the wooden frame as he steeled himself. Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he couldn’t resist the urge to see if anything of the couple could be seen. He breath
ed in sharply, as if he were about to submerge his head below water, and slowly raised himself, his heart beating like a bass drum in his ears.

Eye
s; lifeless with pupils dilated to the point where the colour of the iris could no longer be seen, only the flat dull blackness of the centre that had expanded, stared back through the window, unfocussed and looking almost like faded black-and-white two-dimensional drawings due to the lack of blood pressure.

The old man’s face was just inches from the pane of glass that separ
ated him and Steve. His face had taken on a yellow hue with hollow cheeks and sunken eye sockets and his skin seemed to have taken on the same texture as waxy plasticine.

Steve gasped and fell back from the window
, throwing his arms behind to catch him, ending up in a crab position. The eyes at the window watched him vacantly, unblinking. Steve felt the urge to run and hide but composed himself and, once again, slowly approached the window; though this time he kept his distance. He knew beyond any doubt that he was looking into the eyes of a corpse. Other than the small movements of its eyes as it followed him, the head was motionless, as if it had been removed and placed in the window.

Beyond the face of the old man, in the gloom of the living room, Steve saw movement as a figure walked through a door, distorting the light that shone
from behind with its bulk. He squinted and moved closer, trying to see whether it was the old lady.

A pale yellowed hand slapped against the glass with a reverberating smack, making Steve jump back again. The old man had attempted to reach him; not realising there was an invisible barrier between them. The fingers
, yellowed and shrivelled as if he had spent too long in a bath, clawed at the window in an attempt to grasp him.

The eyes fixed on Steve.

Steve saw that there was absolutely no emotion in the face peering back at him. No anger, no aggression, nothing. But the hands spoke its intentions. Where the eyes failed to even hint at what it desired, the clutching claw-like fingers spoke volumes.

His throat was dry and he found it hard to swallow. He gulped in air and did his best to control his pounding heart. He moved away from the window and
headed back to the flat. When he got to the door, he found that the dead bolt was engaged. He pushed against the door again, thinking that it was stuck. The letterbox flapped open and he saw two bright green eyes scan him from the other side.

“Who is it?”

“Who do you think it is, bone head? Let me in.”

“Sorry
, Dad, but you told me to trust no one and always double check.”

“You were half asleep when I said that, how can you remember?”

She released the dead bolts and let him in. Steve felt pride swell within him. Even though the situation was bad, his little angel had taken it in her stride and adapted to it. He stood in the hallway and peered down at his daughter. “You ready for an adventure?”

“Yup,”
she nodded, “I am.”

Steve looked at her in seriousness
. “Sarah, remember what I said about the bad people? Well there's a chance we might run into some. If we do, you might see me do some horrible stuff, but I want you to keep yourself close at all times, do you understand?”

Sarah sighed
. “Dad, I watched the news, I know what they're saying and I know what’s going on. I’m scared but I know that you will save me if anything bad happens. Oh, and my Mum too.”

Fuck
! Steve hadn’t figured on Sarah being so aware of the situation. Over the days, Claire and Steve had spoken on the phone and he had reassured her that Sarah was safe but that he didn't think it wise to travel the streets; she should stay with him until things were under control. Though her mother was distraught and wanted her child home, she understood and agreed that Sarah should stay with him. There was no way that he was going to tell her of the latest plan until he was sure of what to do next.

He hadn’t lied to Sarah
, but to avoid her from freaking out at the contemplation of the dead returning to life, he had left that bit out and replaced it with ‘bad people’. Now she brought her mother, Claire, into the equation.

“
Okay, Sarah, once we get to aunty Jen’s, we’ll phone your mum. Okay?”

Sarah looked up and gave a big grin
, with thumbs up again. “And Roy too.”

Steve rolled his eyes
.
Fuck sake, now I’m going to be rescuing her mother and her mother’s boyfriend too. I’m gonna get fucking killed in this,
he thought.

Picking up the back
pack and placing it by the front door, he adjusted his belt, removing the hammer; he figured that it was best to have a weapon in hand, ready.

“Remember what I said
, Sarah. Stay close to me at all times.”

They moved.
He deliberately shielded her from the stares of the dead old man and his wife who had now joined him at the window. He felt a chill as they passed them and he avoided looking into their dead haunting eyes again. Sarah never moved more than a few inches away from his backside, keeping herself tucked in, safe behind her father’s body.

They made it away from the flats and headed across the main road for the h
ousing estate that backed the nature sanctuary. The estate was a mess. Houses looked abandoned; smashed windows and doors hanging from their hinges helped to complete the look.

Here and there he saw people hanging out of windows
, warning them that the streets weren’t safe and that they should get indoors and stay there. Steve just waved and kept moving. Even though he wanted to take them up on their advice, he had to carry on with his plan. It was no longer about what was best for just him and Sarah.

His palms were sweaty and he continuously adjuste
d the grip he had on his hammer as they walked. Whenever possible, they stuck to the middle of the road, allowing advanced warning of any threat from the houses to the left and right.

Sarah did a
s her father had instructed and stayed close.

Their eyes darted
from side to side and with every few steps, Steve would glance back over his shoulder, making sure nothing and no one was following.

Deep in the housing estate they came to a junction. They needed to head straight across, but as was his new habit, Steve wanted to check the street to the left and right before exposing themselves
as they crossed.

They both crouched and made their way toward the junction along a low wall, stopping every few steps to listen. Steve heard it first
; crashing and banging was coming from the street to their left. The sound of something slapping and beating against wood mixed with another sound, the steady low hum of the infected. The sound sent shivers through Steve and he could feel panic grip him. He had heard it on TV, but in the flesh it was more haunting, yet almost sad.

Now and then the sound of a desperate mournful wail would come from within the sounds of the infected. Like the voice of a woman, exhausted and on the verge of giving up, but still searching for a child that she had lost.

Steve motioned for Sarah to stay where she was and he crept along the last couple of feet to the corner on his hands and knees. He glanced back at her, eyes bulging, and offered a smile of reassurance then peered around the corner.

In the street he saw a crowd of about fifty people. All their attention was focused on a large detached house
, roughly seventy metres along the row. They all seemed to want to get to the front, pushing, shoving and pulling at each other. There was no visible aggression within the crowd, just a clear determination from every one of them to get to the house.