Z-UK

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

Moderator: ZS Global Moderators

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Sun Mar 03, 2019 5:00 pm

Love it or hate it ... here we go ...

Z-UK : Chapter 1!

Pete’s wife was safe. He was due to pick her up from Luton Airport in half an hour, but as he flicked from BBC to Sky News he couldn’t help but play out in his mind what could have been if she hadn’t got on that flight. Over the last three days, there had been over half a million flu-like cases reported across Portugal. It had caused widespread panic and people had become desperate to protect themselves against the virus. Police were positioned to protect key hospitals and medical centres but they soon provided a focus for people to vent their anger, frustration and fear. Riots had broken out and police fought running battles day and night.

Sam had been at Lisbon airport for over 24 hours since the foreign office had advised against travelling to the country. Pete had suggested that Sam get a bus or train, but her instincts told her that more violence was yet to come. Travelling was her life, and she had seen enough of the world to know that if she attempted to cross the country by land, she would run the risk of becoming stranded. Pete had spoken to Amy, Sam’s Editor, but she had said the same thing. He thought it was ironic that they had sent her to the Fiestas de Lisboa at the invitation of the Lisbon Tourist Board, who now seemed powerless to help, but he thought better than to say it.

Sam had been right. In the last hour, five families, including 12 children, had been found dead in Lisbon’s central district. Once rumours started circulating that the deaths were linked to the flu outbreak, rioters and protestors overran police blockades. Teargas, water cannon and plastic bullets no longer held the crowds back and Pete watched the news reports, speechless, as people fought, and died, on the streets of Lisbon. Scenes of rioting at Lisbon’s Centro Hospitalar were replayed alongside warnings that images may be disturbing to some viewers. Breaking News flashed across the bottom of the screen as the newsreader confirmed similar outbreaks of violence across Portugal. Major transport hubs across the country were officially closed. An un-confirmed report had been received about an incident in Barcelona, but it was unclear if the violence was related to the events unfolding live on the screen.

Pete heard the key in the front door and turned the channel over. The girls didn’t need to know how bad things had become in the last couple of hours, not until Sam was safely home at least.

“Hey dad,” Sarah and Katy said in unison when he stood to meet them. He smiled that they seemed so … normal and when he caught himself in the mirror, fixed against the lounge wall, he was suddenly conscious of his nervousness. He wore cargo shorts and a t-shirt that hung loosely against his broad frame but he felt hot and clammy and though, at a little over six feet tall, he towered above his two daughters, he felt small and uneasy in their presence. Pete made a mental note to relax. Sam was safe.

Katy made for the Playstation, as always, and Sarah took her younger sister’s school bag and placed them both on the kitchen table. At 15 Sarah was tall for her age, had the same slim figure as her mum and the same long red hair. Katy on the other hand had yet to ‘reach her growth spurt’ as Sam would put it. Which in Katy’s opinion meant she was ‘short and fat’ despite their assurances she was anything but. Not that Katy cared yet how she looked and Pete cherished the time they spent together when she was still young enough that the world’s opinion wasn’t one worth worrying about. He’d often complain to Sam though, that those days were quickly running out.

“Mum text as she was getting on the plane.” Sarah said, snapping Pete out of his thoughts. He noticed Sarah stop for a brief second and look at the picture above the table of the three girls in Peru last year. The wall was covered in family pictures, though mostly of Sam and Sarah. Whenever she could, Sarah went with her mother when she travelled and they knew it wouldn’t be long until she wanted to venture out on her own. When she finished college at least, Pete would say.

“Good.” Pete leant down and kissed her on the forehead. “She’s safe and sound and will be home for dinner”, but he knew he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring his daughters. “I’ll call when we are on our way home.”

---

Pete listened closely to the car radio and swore a few times as the newsreader detailed not just the scale of the epidemic, but the rate at which it was spreading across the continent. As Luton Airport came into view, the radio station cut to a live feed from Lisbon where the presenter described the scenes unfolding as police clashed with a crowd of over 600 people trying to storm a local hospital. Pete could hear gunshot, sirens and the sound of smashing glass in the background and he thought back to the 7/7 bombings when he was one of the first paramedics to attend Russell Square tube station. He could well imagine the fear and panic that would be spreading through the crowd of people right now.

As he drove into the airport car park static interfered with the radio, eventually drowning out the reporter and the noise of the crowd, which seemed to suddenly intensify, until the station went silent for a few seconds. Pete focused on the dashboard clock and swore to himself as he realised Sam’s flight should have landed half an hour ago. The last thing Pete heard before he cut the engine was an apology for technical issues interrupting the live report.

Pete saw Sam as he approached the airport entrance. She was wearing a grey hoodie and jeans despite the hot afternoon sun and she looked unsteady on her feet as she caught his gaze. Sam looked surprised to see him but smiled as they walked towards each other.
“I was just about to phone you”, Sam said, as Pete took her bag and slung it over his shoulder. She reached up to kiss him and Pete could feel the coldness of her skin.

“You’re freezing.”

“And I feel like shit.” She leaned into him as they walked. “But it’s hardly surprising. It seems like the whole of Portugal has the flu.”

Pete was about to suggest that they stop at a pharmacy on the way home but before he could a series of screams came from inside the airport followed by the sound of a single gunshot that momentarily silenced the crowd. “Jesus.” Pete flinched at the noise, instinctively putting an arm round Sam but she barely reacted. For a heartbeat everyone froze as one, the sudden silence so unexpected that its warning was deafening.
Another shot rang out, and another, shattering the brief silence until the noise of gunfire, constant now, echoed from within the airport and chased the screaming mass of people away, like naughty children, as they tried to put distance between themselves and the unfamiliar sound.

“I don’t feel well,” Sam said. Pete thought she suddenly felt colder and when she bent double to be sick he forced her around the front of the building where they were somewhat sheltered from the running crowd. Sam vomited on the pavement. From where they were, the glass façade offered anyone inside a full view of her discomfort, but no-one was paying them any attention. Some people were hiding in the shops. Another group, crouched low, was being ushered through a pair of security doors.

The gunfire suddenly intensified and Pete knew, could tell from the people inside, that it was coming their way. We can’t stay here. Pete flinched again as a crack of gunfire sounded bloody close. He tried to get Sam to her feet but she resisted and threw up again.

It happened so quickly Pete wasn’t sure it was real. He looked up through the window as a policeman shot a burst of bullets into a woman’s chest. The impact threw her to the floor, hard, as her whole body was lifted into the air, but she immediately sprang back up as if the dark holes that now appeared were of no concern. He fired again, longer this time, but with little control as panic set in. The policeman looked surprised when he ran out of ammo.

He turned slightly and held Pete’s gaze for a second but before Pete could shout a warning the woman tackled the policeman to the ground with surprising strength. She locked her jaw around his neck and ripped off a chunk of flesh before burying her face into the exposed muscle. Suddenly a second then third person joined the savage attack.

They were biting at his exposed flesh, tearing wildly at his clothes. The policeman screamed in terror, shock and pain and Pete watched as he was torn into bite size pieces. One of his attackers held his face to the ground and tore into his ear, ripping it from the side of his face. The policeman screamed as his mouth was forced open, fingers gouged into his eye sockets for purchase, and as his head and jaw were prised apart, his fleshy cheeks were torn in a frenzy of bites.

In a heartbeat, one of the attackers sprang towards Pete who reacted with instinct and threw himself away from her. Or him? Pete wasn’t quite sure such was the amount of blood that covered its face. It thumped against the window, the only protection Pete had from the same fate that had befallen the policeman who lay, still and silent now, just a few metres away. The two other attackers were knelt over the body reminding Pete of a David Attenborough documentary he’d once seen where a pack of wolves brought down and tore into a Moose.

Without taking its eyes from Pete the bloodied thing smashed its head against the window, again and again, harder and faster, as if desperate to reach him. Blood sprayed against the inside of the window with every crack of its head against the toughened glass. For a second Pete just stared at this thing, towering above Sam who was crouched low against the window, oblivious to what was behind her. Pete felt his body tense and tighten betraying the fear that coursed through his body but somehow, he got up, cautiously at first, before he grabbed Sam and half carried, half dragged her towards the car park.

---

Already the one road in and out was slowing by sheer weight of numbers and the bottleneck was trapping vehicles behind the exit barriers, preventing them from escaping on the near empty road that led away from the airport. There was a bus pulling out of a stop, its double doors still open and every fibre in Pete’s body, still tense and alert from what he had seen, screamed at him to get on. Pete dodged past people, dragging Sam by the arm, and a second before it was out of reach he grabbed the open door and hauled them in, pushing Sam first then holding her tight as they fell into the luggage rack.

“Close the fucking doors. Close the fucking doors,” someone shouted from behind him. The bus sprang forward, doors closing, as Pete grabbed the rail to stop him and Sam from falling.

As they pulled away from the airport Pete watched the chaotic scenes out of the window as people ran in all directions. He could hear their screams, but they were faint over the noise of the bus’s engine, revved hard to build up speed. He didn’t know if people were running from the shooting or from the same horror he had witnessed. Had he witnessed it? What was it? Terrorists? Some biological weapon? The whole thing seemed absurd and all he wanted right now was to get Sam home and back to the girls.

“Are you okay?” He knew she wasn’t and he could feel the coldness of her skin as he brushed the hair from her face, but he asked it anyway.

“No.” Sam replied, pressing her face against Pete’s chest. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. There was some gun fire and we couldn’t get to the car so we’re on the bus.” He didn’t think he should mention the policeman being eaten alive, or the woman being shot, or … or whatever the fuck that was. Sam wrapped her arms around Pete, but didn’t reply.

Pete held her against him, one hand gripping onto the rail to support both their weight and stop them being thrown to the floor as the bus lurched round one corner, then the next. Pete heard a loud thud from the front of the bus and saw an arm disappear from view before they were jerked sideways and lifted into the air as whoever the bus hit rolled under its wheels. Pete clung on but those who were stood around them fell hard down the aisle. There were screams from passengers sat in the back seats who felt the full force of the rear wheels coming off the road and were flung this way and that.

As people picked themselves up there was a sudden commotion at the rear off the bus and everyone turned in the direction of the noise that was clear even over the engine and the crying and the panicked conversations that filled the bus. As people rushed forward, everyone stared at a lone figure left on the back seat, a deep and bloody wound gouged out of his neck.

The man’s body started to violently convulse before he collapsed onto the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as blood seeped from every orifice. Someone went to help him but as she bent down the man coughed blood into her face and she instantly screamed and desperately tried to wipe it away. She fell to her knees, exposed to yet more blood from the man who suddenly, and in an instant, stopped convulsing. His eyes slowly rolled back down into place and he looked through the throng of people backing away.

The man lay there, silent except for the noise of his breathing which was short and sharp as if he was struggling to take in enough air. He seemed unconcerned or unaware of the woman who was convulsing on top of him, as he was doing moments before, and instead his eyes flicked from one person to another, all of whom were stunned into silence as they slowly moved further down the aile, fear and tension heavy in the air. Pete heard someone tell the driver to stop the bus, almost a whisper, and then a louder plea from someone standing closest to the man who broke the trance and turned away to run towards the doors.

“Stop the …” was all he said before Pete saw the top of his head disappear. That David Attenborough documentary popped into his head again but this time someone had turned the volume up to maximum. Pete looked in the direction of the driver who was slumped over the side of the cabin, he too was convulsing and twitching as if suffering a violent fit and as the bus stalled and came to a jerky stop, the aisle became a mass of bodies and blood as people fell on top of each other.

People tried to escape the violence at the back of the bus but there was precious room available. The woman had stopped screaming, the blood that now coated her face was obviously no longer a concern. She pounced over the man, whose head was now buried in the other man’s stomach ripping out viscera in some desperate feeding frenzy, and sank her teeth into an exposed arm. More screams. She was pushed away as her victim tried to escape, but he slipped on the blood that now ran freely across the floor and pulled a small child into the melee.

People were squashed tightly around Pete and Sam creating a shield between them and the frenzy, but with nowhere to go Pete could see, one-by-one, the tops of heads disappearing. Slowly the horror inched down the aisle towards them. Pete could feel Sam shaking against him. At the front of the bus a man was trying to smash the window open, another was trying to kick down the door. To their side someone was trying to do the same to the double doors they had jumped through.

Pete left Sam clinging to the luggage rack and pulled violently at one of the door handles with both hands, fuelled by panic and desperation from the noises he could hear all around him. Every muscle in his body was tense and focussed on the door as he pushed the handle outwards then pulled it back with all his strength trying to rip the doors from the frame again and again until finally something between the two doors snapped. With one final pull from both men the doors folded in on themselves and Pete felt a sudden breeze against his face and had to push back hard to stop himself being caught in the wave of people that flooded out of the bus.

He reached out to Sam, stretching through the bodies that poured against him and just as he felt like he would be swept away, he grabbed her by the wrist pulling her to him until they were both free. And then they ran. Pete didn’t stop to help anyone, despite the pleas he could hear behind him, and he didn’t give a second glance to the old woman he saw sat on the front seat, or the young girl she embraced next to her. Instead, he dragged Sam up a grass embankment that led them away as she tried to keep up.
Last edited by Coxy on Thu Mar 07, 2019 3:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.

SamAdams
Posts: 13
Joined: Sun Jan 01, 2017 11:50 am

Re: Z-UK Chapter 1

Post by SamAdams » Mon Mar 04, 2019 7:29 pm

:D Good job bloke, carry on.

absinthe beginner
* * * * *
Posts: 1342
Joined: Sun Jan 05, 2014 11:05 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shawn of the Dead
Location: Colorado

Re: Z-UK Chapter 1

Post by absinthe beginner » Mon Mar 04, 2019 8:21 pm

You don't have guns, you poor defenseless bastards.

User avatar
91Eunozs
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 2029
Joined: Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:16 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: All of them!
Location: Hill Country, Texas

Re: Z-UK Chapter 1

Post by 91Eunozs » Tue Mar 05, 2019 11:18 pm

Strong start... looking forward to moar!
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
Doctorr Fabulous wrote:... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Thu Mar 07, 2019 3:33 pm

SamAdams and 91Eunozs - thanks very much for your encouragement!

absinthe beginner - I'm not gonna lie ... it's a bit of a concern!

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Thu Mar 07, 2019 3:51 pm

Chapter 2

As they reached the top of the embankment the young girl made Pete think of Katy and Sarah and when he paused at that thought, Sam collapsed to the ground. Pete turned back to the road, just 50 yards away, and the piercings of screams and shouts flooded his senses. As a paramedic, he had witnessed countless crash scenes and while his training enabled him to remain calm, while those around him were in a state of shock or panic, he knew this was different. Pete didn’t feel calm. He felt cold despite the hot sun and he could feel his arms shaking slightly but his brain, as if on auto-pilot, started to bring order to the chaos and focused on individual events taking place before him.

Outside the bus a dozen people, maybe more, were writhing about on the road as if on fire, clawing at their bodies. A woman, visible in the bus window, banged her fists against the glass unable to escape. Her mouth was wide open and her screams clearly reached Pete from where he stood, before, in the blink of an eye, she simply disappeared and he couldn’t hear her anymore.

A queue of traffic had formed behind the bus and those closest to the chaotic scenes were getting out of their cars to investigate. As people escaped the bloody carnage they ran in all directions, desperate to put some distance between themselves and the horror that was unfolding. The panic on their faces instantly infected those they ran into.

Suddenly people started attacking those closest to them. Pete saw one man sink his teeth into a woman’s leg, another flung a woman to the floor and buried his face into her chest before grabbing a young boy next to her and tearing at his arm. It happened so fast that within seconds the crowd had merged into a mass of violence. Pete could hear Sam behind him questioning what the hell was going on, but he just shook his head and stared at the events unfolding.

A man ran across the road into oncoming traffic and Pete flinched at the sound as a car hit him with such force he was propelled down the road, bouncing and skidding off the tarmac as he went. When the driver slammed on her brakes, her tyres let out a loud screech followed by the sound of metal crushing metal as car after car piled into the one in front, adding to the carnage. When the man finally came to a stop he didn’t move. Maybe, Pete thought, he wouldn’t feel what was about to happen next.

People tried to turn their cars around or force their way past the bus but other than a lucky few, the road was quickly blocked in both directions. With nowhere to go people abandoned their cars and ran away from the scene pursued by men, women and even children hell bent on violence. Most of the people closest to the bus got no more than a few meters away before they were pulled down and torn into. He doubted if those further down the road knew what they were running from, but as a tide of people and a wall of noise hurtled towards them, they ran all the same.

People started to run up the embankment towards him and suddenly Pete was no longer watching what was going on, he was in the middle of it and he realised he had no idea if the people running towards him were trying to escape or coming to tear them apart.

“Peter.” Sam tried to shout above the noise that enveloped them as people ran past, but her voice was weak. She tried again, louder this time, tugging at his shorts. “Peter.”

Pete was about to turn to Sam when he saw the young girl and the old woman walking away from the front of the bus. They’re alive. They were moving so slowly they almost looked calm amongst the chaos.

Just walk away Pete.

“Move.” Pete whispered, willing them to move faster. But of course, they didn’t.

There’s nothing you can do for them.

“Shit.” Pete bent down to Sam, sat on the grass behind him, and took her hands in his. “I have to go back to the bus …”

“The little girl?” Sam asked, staring past him. Before Pete could answer, she looked into his eyes. “Hurry,” was all she said. Pete thought she looked better and he gave her a smile. At least that was something he thought.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Pete kept saying as he ran back towards the bus, wondering what the hell he was doing. As he reached the bottom of the embankment he bumped past two people and almost slipped on the blood-stained tarmac, so thick was the dark fluid below his feet.

Bodies were scattered across the road in all directions, their organs, muscle and bone visibly exposed from the violent attacks he had witnessed. They should clearly be dead. Pete knew this. He didn’t need all that medical training to know that they should all be fucking dead, but they weren’t. Not all of them at least. He could see some of the them getting to their feet, and when a young woman dressed in a smart blue suit struggled to stand, her back to him, he saw her intestines and stomach fall to the ground with a wet thud. He wanted to puke as the remnants of her insides coated her high heels then hung against her leg, still attached to her body, like some morbid pendulum.

A man too fat and slow to escape stood watching. A puddle had formed around his feet from liquid that dripped down his trousers. The woman in the smart blue suit sprang towards the fat man with surprising speed, dragging her entrails behind her, but the fat man just stood there unable to move. It wasn’t until she clamped her jaw around the fat man’s neck that he screamed and Pete was surprised by his strength when he flung her away from him and she fell hard against the kerb. The fat man clasped his neck in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood and tried to get back into his car but the woman was quick to get up and, in a heartbeat, resumed her attack. The fat man’s screams seemed to rouse the bodies laid along the road and they too began to slowly and awkwardly stand, like new born animals finding their feet for the first time.

“Nana,” the girl screamed at the old woman, tearing Pete’s attention away from the scenes he was witnessing. He watched as the young girl tried to pull her away from the bus, but they were painfully slow.

Pete shouted to them as he ran in their direction and caught the old woman’s eye through the crowd, “over here.” He couldn’t make out what the girl was saying but she was shaking her head at the old woman and pulling at her arms. “We have to leave,” Pete said as he reached them both, but the old woman hesitated.

“I can’t run that fast,” the old woman replied in a soft Irish accent. “Please, take my Lucy and get her safe.”

“Nana, no.”

“I’ll carry you,” Pete said, and before the old woman could protest he scooped her up in his arms. Pete could see the terror in the young girl’s face and there were tears rolling down her cheeks. He nodded back towards Sam, “you see that woman up there, sat on the grass?” The young girl looked towards Sam and nodded. “Look at me.” She instantly turned back to Pete. “That’s where we are heading. Hold onto my shirt and don’t look at anything else except her. Do you understand?” She didn’t reply, just nodded her head. Pete gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Let’s go.”

---

People were still getting out of their cars, abandoning their vehicles and running away, while others just stood staring at the dead that were seemingly coming back to life, shock and fear routing them to the spot. Out of the corner of his eye Pete saw a man fall to the ground, no more than a few meters away, before a young child jumped on top of him and buried her head into his shoulder. The man screamed as she began a frenzied attack, but Pete didn’t stop, he just kept running towards Sam.

As he got closer the ground beneath his feet got steeper and even though she was light he could feel his arms ache and his legs burn from the exertion of carrying the old woman. The only thing that kept him going was the adrenaline pumping through his body. But then he heard Sam screaming his name and the aches and the pains and the exertion disappeared. To Sam’s right, one of those things was coming towards her. Pete was just metres away from Sam, almost touching distance, but she felt a million miles away. He let go of the old woman, dropping her to her feet, and tore himself away from the young girl’s grasp.

The thing’s movement was fast but its limbs looked rigid and uncoordinated as if it was desperately trying to move faster than its body would allow. It fell on the uneven ground but quickly got up, never taking its eyes of its prey. Sam tried to scramble away towards Pete, still screaming his name, but as she struggled to her feet a man ran past her, knocking her back to the grass. It was getting closer. So close.

Pete wasn’t aware, but he too was screaming, urging himself to reach Sam before it did, and when he was just an arm’s length away he watched as the thing bent down towards Sam, teeth exposed as it made to tear into her. He didn’t notice how young it looked. He didn’t notice the faint beginnings of facial hair on its upper lip. He didn’t notice the school uniform. All he knew was rage as he swung his foot into its jaw snapping it backwards with a large crack as he connected. It staggered for a split second, and then, with a high-pitched scream, faced Pete, but Pete didn’t break his momentum and fell on top it. The thing screamed at Pete, clawing at his face, snapping its teeth at his exposed arms but Pete tightened his grip on its throat holding it down. With surprising strength, the thing sprang upwards and got within inches of Pete’s face, but using all his weight Pete smashed its head against the ground, again and again until the thing stopped screaming at Pete and its teeth no longer snapped in his direction. Only then did he realise the noise he was making.

And then silence.

Nothing except the sound of his heavy breathing and his heart thumping in his chest. There was something else though, but it sounded far away. Was it Sam’s voice? He couldn’t tell. He was focused on the kid, a … a kid. He looked so peaceful, lying there with his eyes closed. There was a lot of blood around his mouth though. Did I do that? I didn’t do that. I only …oh God.

The back of the boy’s head was cracked open and was now no more than a mush of blood and bone. That’s exactly what happened ... I … I did that. He could hear that voice again, louder this time.

“Peter. Oh my God. Peter, are you ok?” Sam was almost hysterical, shaking him by the shoulders.

“He’s wearing the same uniform as Sarah.” Pete was knelt over the body. “Fucking hell, he’s just a kid. I’ve just killed a fucking kid. What have I done …” The words poured out of his mouth. Sorrow, regret, guilt, shame. His hands were covered in blood, the kid was covered in blood, as if someone had sprayed red paint over them both.

“Peter. Look at me.” Sam turned his face to look at hers. Pete was shaking uncontrollably. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but he would have killed me.” Sam forced Pete to look at the body. “Look. That’s not normal.” The kid’s sleeve was missing and his arm was barely connected to his shoulder by a thin strip of muscle, the bone snapped in two and the flesh all but stripped away. His torn shirt exposed a wide gash that spread across the boy’s chest and stomach. “Peter, we can talk about this later but right now we have to leave.”

Pete just shook his head, desperately trying to clean his bloody hands on the grass.

There was genuine panic in Sam’s voice. Tears rolled freely down her face as she watched people run past. “Please baby. We have to go or we are both going to die here. We have to get back to Sarah and Katy.”

Pete stopped what he was doing, turning his hands over as if to inspect them, but patches of dried blood gave away the violence he just committed. “Ok.” He clenched his fists as if to draw a line under what had just happened, for now anyway. Pete looked into Sam’s eyes. “Ok,” he said.

Pete got to his feet and put an arm around Sam’s waist, supporting her weight. He was tired, but it could only been a few minutes since he had met her at the airport. The young girl and the old woman stood, holding each other, watching Pete and Sam. “Can you walk?” He asked the old woman. His voice was so croaky he barely recognised it.

She looked past him towards the bus where more people that had been killed were getting to their feet. They could see people running along the main road, could hear their screams, but they were almost alone now on the embankment. “Faster than you can carry us both.”

They quickly made their way over the embankment and down the other side to a small country road. Sam collapsed to her knees, slipping from Pete’s grasp and the old woman knelt beside her, putting her hand on her forehead. “She’s burning up with fever,” she looked at Pete. “We have to get her somewhere to rest.”

The road led away from them in both directions. “We go this way.” Pete pointed left. “That way”, he looked briefly to his right, “will take us back to the main road …” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. They all knew what was happening there.

“Grand.” The old woman agreed. “Then we should move so.”

Sam gripped the old woman’s hand but couldn’t lift her head. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Maeve,” the old woman smiled at Sam, “and you’ve met my granddaughter Lucy.”

“I’m Sam. And that’s my husband Pete.”

A scream echoed from the direction they had just come from, interrupting their mini reprieve and reminding them of the savage violence that was being played out on the other side of the embankment. Maeve and Pete turned in the direction of the noise and Lucy grabbed hold of her Nana as if the old woman could protect her from it. Sam tried to stand but fell against Pete.

A lone figure stood 20 meters away, along the road. He too stared back up the embankment and in the silence that followed, looked at Pete and his small group as if weighing up his options.

“Help us,” Pete shouted, then instantly looked back up the embankment, afraid his voice would attract unwanted attention. Pete looked back at the lone figure, keeping his eyes fixed on his. “Help us,” he whispered, as loud as he dared, but the lone figure just backed away, slowly at first before he turned and ran in the opposite direction. “Fuck.” Pete swore.
Last edited by Coxy on Fri Mar 08, 2019 9:06 am, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
91Eunozs
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 2029
Joined: Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:16 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: All of them!
Location: Hill Country, Texas

Re: Z-UK

Post by 91Eunozs » Thu Mar 07, 2019 9:27 pm

Nice! Thanks for the update, and good job building depth to your characters without going all”George R.R. Martin” on the details.

Only saw one typo (other than the obvious British to American English disconnects of course): breaks vs. brakes early in this entry.

Keep it coming!
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
Doctorr Fabulous wrote:... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Fri Mar 08, 2019 7:57 am

Ah thanks for the heads up on the typo!! Will amend now

User avatar
bodyparts
* *
Posts: 151
Joined: Sat Jan 25, 2014 9:25 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: land of the dead
Location: sw , mo

Re: Z-UK

Post by bodyparts » Sat Mar 09, 2019 6:30 pm

Thanks for posting this. A good read so far . Not having much for guns is a good point as they are the go-to for zombies. Will be interesting to see how you work it out. Cricket bat ? Things the zombie army doesn't need anymore? Thanks again for posting.

DAVE KI
* * *
Posts: 782
Joined: Tue Nov 08, 2011 11:47 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: WWZ though nowhere as good as the book.
Location: The Great State of (cough cough)Oregon

Re: Z-UK

Post by DAVE KI » Sat Mar 09, 2019 11:53 pm

I like where this is going. Not much on U.K. zombie stories,but I've read a few and so far this is up there.
Don't let it die (no pun) it really is good.
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

User avatar
Spazzy
* * *
Posts: 391
Joined: Mon May 13, 2013 1:19 pm
Location: Chesapeake, VA

Re: Z-UK

Post by Spazzy » Mon Mar 11, 2019 7:50 am

WOW very nice intro going here.
Overheard at my USN retirement ceremony....
"So he's not a team player then?"
"You mean Spazz...? Hes not even a fan of the team."

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Mon Mar 11, 2019 9:05 am

bodyparts, DAVE KI, Spazzy - glad your liking it so far! C3 on its way ... no pressure!!

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Mon Mar 11, 2019 9:16 am

Chapter 3

To the group’s left the sun, still bright, hung low in the sky. They could just about see the edge of the airport from where they were but at least they were too far away to see whatever horror was being played out, although every now and then a faint sound, maybe a scream, would carry to them on the wind. To the right were fields, their boundaries marked by neat rows of hedges. The road stretched out in front of them until a large tree, that must have stood for a hundred years or more, marked a sharp right-hand turn. Whatever lay along the road beyond was blocked from view by small clusters of woodland.

Pete tried to glance back every now and then to check that no-one, or no-thing, was following them, but it was awkward the way he was holding onto Sam. The hot sun caused beads of sweat to drip down his neck and face. His t-shirt was wet with it, and stuck tightly to his body, but despite the heat Sam felt cold and she shivered against him.

Behind him Maeve and Lucy walked in silence except for the sound of Lucy crying softly, her face buried in Maeve’s waist. Pete pulled his phone out of his back pocket for the hundredth time since they started walking but still he had no signal. The screen on his phone said 18:45. They’d only been walking for 20 minutes but it felt like hours and it sure didn’t feel like they were making any progress.

Pete heard Lucy say something to Maeve in a language he couldn’t understand and turned his head as best he could. “What did Lucy say?” Pete asked, surprised she wasn’t speaking English. But then, he realised, he’d barely heard her speak at all since they met.

“She asked what was going on.” Maeve replied.

Good question.

“She speaks Irish when …” Maeve paused and looked at Pete. “Anyway, you don’t have to be scared of anyone here Lucy.” Maeve gave her a slight squeeze as she said that.

Pete wondered if Maeve meant what she said or if she was just trying to make Lucy feel better. He suspected the latter and was disgusted with himself that such a young girl could be openly scared of him. He thought about the kid he’d killed and the look on his face when he smashed his head against the ground. Try as he might, he couldn’t defend what he had done, so how could he blame Lucy for being scared of him? He was scared of himself right now and he felt sick as visions of that boy burned into his mind’s eye.

He could feel warm tears against his cheeks which tasted salty, mixed with sweat, but he didn’t want to wipe them away. It shouldn’t be that easy to erase what he had done. As if sensing his pain Sam wiped the tears as best she could. “It wasn’t your fault baby. He would have killed all of us.” Pete didn’t reply, he just kept on walking.

“I don’t know what’s happening Lucy,” said Maeve, “let’s just focus on getting home so.”

“Where is home?” asked Sam, her speech slightly slurred. She rested her head against Pete’s shoulders as if the exertion of the conversation was too much.

“Hitchin.” Maeve replied. “We have to make sure Grandpa is ok, don’t we Lucy.” She ran her hand through the young girl’s hair.

“We need to get to Letchworth.” said Sam “I’m glad we’re all going …” but whatever she was about to say was washed away as she leant forward and threw up on the side of the road.

“Shit. We’re not getting anywhere like this.” Pete regretted his tone as soon as the words were out of his mouth. His mind was a mess of visions of what he had seen, what he had done, and the words just fell out before he realised he was even saying them. The desperation he felt at wanting to get Sam safe and to the girls fought in his guts against the frustration of being stuck out in the countryside until his stomach felt like it was being torn in two.

Maeve stepped forward and took Sam’s weight, helping her to the ground and holding her hair as she was sick again. “Sam needs to rest.”

“Well there’s no one around to disturb us.” Again, Pete regretted his tone and the way Maeve looked at told him he was being an ass. He took a deep breath and looked around for something, anything that would help them, but all he could see, except the faint outline of the airport, was fields.

Pete noticed for the first time how glamorous Maeve looked. Her long white skirt and light blue suit jacket looked clean and fresh whereas Pete’s t-shirt and shorts were stuck to his body in one sweaty mess. She had short grey hair and features that gave away how beautiful she must once have been.

Lucy sat next to the two women clutching Maeve’s white handbag. She wore a red summer dress and he could see both her knees were scuffed with days old scabs. It reminded him of Katy and all the times she had come home with fresh cuts and scrapes and bruises and wondered if Lucy had the same adventurous approach to life. She still wouldn’t look at him though and hid behind her thick, black hair whenever he looked in her direction.
Pete took another breath.

“What are you thinking?” Maeve asked.

That this is taking too fucking long. “That I’ve no idea where we are. We need a car, or a house.” Pete checked his phone again. “Or bloody phone signal.”

“Let’s just concentrate on what we can do. This road must lead somewhere. Just give Sam a minute then we keep going.”

“What’s that noise?” Pete was suddenly alert, looking back down the road from where they had come. “Finally,” he laughed, “oh thank God.” There was hope and excitement in his voice as a car came into view heading towards them. He kissed Sam on the top of the head, “we’re going to be alright baby.”

He smiled at Maeve, who smiled back. “See,” she said, “one thing at a time.”

Pete stood in the middle of the road waving at the car but as it got closer any hope that it would stop for them all but disappeared. It wasn’t slowing down. “Pete get out of the way.” Maeve had to shout to be heard over the noise of the engine as the car sped towards Pete, but he didn’t want to move. They needed help. They needed this car to stop and get them off this fucking road.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

As the car sped past, Pete tried to make eye contact with the driver, holding his hands out in one last attempt to get the driver to stop and help them. “Oh shit.”

---

The driver had one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his neck as blood poured down his arm but as he sped past, his back arched violently and his head snapped backwards. The car didn’t slow for the corner 20 meters away, instead it smashed into the tree, head on, causing Lucy to flinch and scream as she covered her ears with her hands to protect against the sound of crushing metal and smashing glass. The car span round 180 degrees and all four wheels left the road before it landed, facing Pete, crushing the hedge behind.

Pete ran towards the car. “Pete no.” Maeve shouted behind him. “Lucy stay here with Sam.”

Pete approached the crash slowly. Steam rose from the engine which escaped with a low hiss and obstructed his view of the driver, but otherwise it was silent. Pete moved cautiously around the car and swore under his breath as he looked at the driver through what little was left of the passenger side window. The lower half of the driver’s body was a mess. The impact had crushed his legs and stomach and it was hard to tell where flesh and bone ended and metal began. The driver’s body faced forward, but his head was twisted past 45 degrees and faced Pete from an unnatural angle.

“Jesus, Mary,” said Maeve, crossing herself as she came and stood next to Pete. “Is he …” but before she could finish the driver’s eyes opened and he snapped his teeth towards them, causing them both to jump backwards in unison. The driver’s head franticly jerked in their direction, as if the movement could free his body from the crushed car, but he was stuck fast. He screeched at them as he did so, emitting a noise that seemed to crawl into Pete’s ears and slide down his spine. The man’s teeth never stopped snapping away at them.

Suddenly screams came from the direction they had walked and they both turned towards Sam and Lucy, instantly afraid it was them they could hear, but they too were looking back down the road. They heard it again, louder this time, and again.

They both turned to look at the driver.

“Oh my God.” Maeve said.

“Shit.” Pete desperately looked around but saw nothing but road and fields. “We have to get out of here.”

“There.” Maeve pointed down the road. “There’s a metal gate, I think. Maybe there’s a track or something we can follow.”

Pete looked. There was a gate alright but whatever it opened onto was obscured by thick hedge and trees. At least we will have some cover, Pete thought. “Ok. You get down there. I’ll get Sam and Lucy and follow you. We need to hurry.”

Maeve started for the gate and Pete sprinted back to Sam and Lucy. It only took him a few seconds but the screams were louder now, mixed with that other screeching noise they, whatever they were, seemed to make. He tried to block that out.

Lucy was helping Sam to her feet. “Lucy, follow the road around the corner and catch up with Maeve. I’ll be right behind you, but do not go near that car. You just keep running until you get to your Nan. You understand?” She looked him in the eye this time, well that’s progress, and nodded yes before running down the road.

Pete lifted Sam over his shoulders and started to follow Lucy. “Whatareyoudoing?” Sam asked, as if she’d just been rudely awakened.

“We have to move baby. Not far, but we have to get the fuck out of here. Just don’t puke on me.”

He felt her give a small laugh. “I’m not promising anything.”

As Pete rounded the corner he risked a look back down the road behind them and he could see the tops of heads in the distance coming their way. By the time Pete and Sam reached the gate, Maeve and Lucy had climbed over. “We can follow the track,” Maeve said, “and hide around the corner.” The track followed the hedge up a slight hill and around a corner where it looked like it was protected by a small wooded area. Pete and Maeve helped Sam over the gate and up the hill as fast as they could.

Once they had followed the track out of sight from the road Pete sat Sam down against a tree. “How you feeling?” He asked.

“I just need a minute.” Sam smiled, but she kept her eyes closed.

Maeve sat next to her and hugged Lucy. “I’m going to have a look and make sure we’re safe.” said Pete.

“Be careful.” Sam and Maeve both said together.

Pete hid behind a small group of trees at the top of the hill where he could still see Sam, Maeve and Lucy. His mind started to wonder. What if they were seen? How much further could they run? Maeve won’t be able to go on for much longer, Sam can barely walk. I can’t carry both of them. And Lucy? What if that was Katy or Sarah? God, what about Katy and Sarah? He took a breath and though he wasn’t exactly religious, or not in a traditional sense anyway, as he would always say, he said a silent prayer to whoever was listening.

From his position, he could clearly see the road that ran past the gate, from the car wrapped around the tree to his left until it stretched for a mile or so to his right and became obstructed by hedgerow. The road was bathed in light and it would still be a couple of hours before the sun disappeared below the horizon. At any other time, it would be a beautiful evening. If it wasn’t for that noise. It was getting louder, and he felt like he was becoming surrounded by it. More than once he looked closely in the trees around him in case something was there.

Suddenly a man came running around the corner, past the car. There were shouts behind him, “Paul. Paul … mate don’t leave us. Please.” Paul, if that’s who he was, didn’t slow down as he ran past the gate. He didn’t even give it a second glance.

As he went past, two more men came running around the corner and Pete watched as the first man stopped briefly in front of the car. “Shit, John.” Pete heard him cry as he fell on his backside before scrambling backwards and onto his feet.

The second man’s legs buckled underneath him and he fell to his knees as he threw up on the road. He reached his hand to the first man. Pete couldn’t hear what he was saying but as he tried to grab him the first man pushed his hands aside. He was shaking his head and backing away.

“Help,” the man on his knees screamed. “Somebody please help us.” At that point a dozen of those things came into view and the first man turned and ran. If he had looked back to his friend, still knelt on the ground, he would have seen him disappear underneath a swarm of bodies. He might not have seen it, but he couldn’t have failed to hear the blood curdling scream, as brief though it was.

One of the things ignored the human feast and carried on after the first man who was starting to slow down. He too screamed out. “Help me, for God’s sake somebody help me,” but then he noticed the gate and headed towards it with renewed speed. Pete suddenly felt a wave of panic that the man might lead those things in their direction and he held his breath, like some sort of desperate voyeur, as he watched him at the gate. The man’s front foot was on the bottom rung and he was about to swing his other leg over before he screamed in pain and fear as a set of teeth sank into his thigh. The man desperately fought the thing that tore into him, eventually freeing himself from its grasp, but it was too late. The man fell over the fence and rolled onto his back as blood flowed freely from the gaping wounds that ran down his legs. He laid there crying, life flowing out of him with every drop of blood and watched the gate slowly bend towards him as more of those things added their weight to it.

Pete couldn’t help but feel guilty because a wave of relief passed over him that the man hadn’t made it. Instead of leading those things to where he was hidden, he laid there, dying, and for now that was all that those things seemed to be interested in.

Pete backed away slowly. He didn’t want to witness the man’s fate. Not this time.

User avatar
Halfapint
* * * * *
Posts: 3945
Joined: Sat Nov 03, 2012 5:41 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: all?
Location: Central Cascadia

Re: Z-UK

Post by Halfapint » Mon Mar 11, 2019 9:54 am

Finally got some time to catch up on the stores. Found this one and am really enjoying it!
JeeperCreeper wrote:I like huge dicks, Halfapint, so you are OK in my book.... hahaha
Spazzy wrote:Tell ya what... If Zombies attack and the world ends I'll hook tandem toddlers to a plow if it means I'll be able to eat...

User avatar
91Eunozs
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 2029
Joined: Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:16 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: All of them!
Location: Hill Country, Texas

Re: Z-UK

Post by 91Eunozs » Mon Mar 11, 2019 10:38 am

Thanks for the extra helping of Moar!

It may an Irish-American thing, but when my Irish friends/family speak “Irish” it’s speaking Gaelic. Doesn’t take away from the story, but caused a small stumble in painting the mental image when reading that passage about Lucy.

Regardless, good tale...keep it coming!
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
Doctorr Fabulous wrote:... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

DAVE KI
* * *
Posts: 782
Joined: Tue Nov 08, 2011 11:47 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: WWZ though nowhere as good as the book.
Location: The Great State of (cough cough)Oregon

Re: Z-UK

Post by DAVE KI » Tue Mar 12, 2019 8:18 pm

Also just finished ch.3,and not disappointed at all.
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Sun Mar 17, 2019 5:52 pm

Chapter 4

They had followed the track until they could no longer hear the noises emanating from the road and eventually reached another gate which led to a small cottage surrounded on two sides by empty, run down, cow sheds. Pete banged his fist against the heavily set front door. “Hello.” He shouted through the letterbox. “Is anyone there?” Pete banged on the door again, desperate for someone to answer.

“Stay here,” he said to Maeve who had her hands cupped against the window as she peered into the house trying to spot movement. “I’ll check round the back.”

“N … Nana.” Lucy said quietly from behind them. “Nana. Look.”

Maeve turned as Lucy tugged at her skirt. “Lucy,” Maeve started to say, “what …” but she paused when she noticed a man, short and stocky, marching up the gravel driveway towards them pointing a shotgun in their direction.

“Um … Pete.” The uncertainty in Maeve’s voice caused Pete to turn from the house.

When he saw the man approaching, Pete picked up a walking stick which was leant against the wall of the house and, although he realised immediately how foolish he must have looked, he stepped in front of Maeve and Lucy who had backed away next to Sam, still sat where Pete had put her down. As the man got nearer, his eyes twitched nervously over the group, but he didn’t slow and as the shotgun filled Pete’s vision, he instinctively raised his hands and backed away, his body flinching at the damage the shotgun could do.

“We don’t want any trouble. We …”

“Then why you on my proper’y?” The man growled. And why you got my stick in your hand?” The man had broad shoulders and weathered lines across his face, as if he’d spent his life outdoors, which just added to the menacing look he was giving them. As he circled round the group, Pete noticed the man’s hands were covered in dry blood. Flecks of it were splashed up the side of his neck and cheeks.

Pete dropped the stick. “I don’t know if you’ve seen what’s going on …”

“I seen enough.” The man barked. “What’s wrong with her?” He jerked the shotgun towards Sam. “She bit?”

“What? No. None of us are. That’s my wife. She’s just ill with a fever. Please, we’re just trying to get home. We just need some help.”

“How’d you get up ‘ere?” The man interrupted.

“We came up the track from the main road.” Pete nodded to the gate they climbed over.

Suddenly the man stopped and looked towards the gate. “Did … did anything follow you?”

“No ... I don’t think so …” But then a scream, though faint, could be clearly heard from the direction they had come from. For a second the group froze as everyone’s mind played out their own fears as to the source of the scream, although Pete was fairly sure who it came from.

“That don’t sound like nothin’.” The man spat the last word out and made to move towards the house, keeping the shotgun pointed at Pete. His eyes flicked between him and the gate. “You brought ‘em ‘ere,” the man shouted and Pete could see the fury in his eyes as he jabbed the gun at him. “It’s your fault they're dead.” This time he jabbed the shotgun into Pete’s chest, hard, so that Pete fell backwards onto the ground and for a second he struggled to breath. The man stood over Pete, pointing the shotgun in his face. “You killed ‘em.” Although the man’s voice was calmer when he said that, as if he was unsure of the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Pete could hear Maeve behind him as he stared up into the barrel of the shotgun, still struggling to catch his breathe. “Please,” she said, “this isn’t our fault. We’re just trying to get back to our families.” Pete could hear the crunch of gravel as Maeve took a step towards them.

“Families?” The man said, the fight all but gone out of him. He dropped to his knees, an arm’s length from Pete. “I killed ‘em. Christ forgive me.” He turned the shotgun towards himself, put the end of the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Bang.

Pete jerked backwards at the sudden noise and instinctively closed his eyes, but in that split second, the force of the shot had created a hole in the back of the man’s head, sending a mix of hair, blood, brain matter and bone fragments spraying into the air. The scene had frozen in Pete’s mind as if it had been projected onto the inside of his eyelids like some macabre comic strip.

Pete’s ears were ringing from the noise as he struggled to his feet, disorientated. He could hear Lucy screaming as Maeve tried to calm her down but as her screams came into focus they were replaced with something else. That noise.

“His keys,” Maeve shouted, pointing towards the dead man. “Look for his keys. Check his pockets.” Pete’s ears were still ringing and, combined with the pain in his chest, he felt sick, but he did as he was told and checked the man’s jeans. He found a set of keys and threw them to Maeve. While she unlocked the front door, Pete grabbed the shotgun and stuffed his pockets with the shells that were held in elastic loops down the front of the man’s jacket.

“Lucy, get inside.” Maeve said pushing the door open. The screeching sound was louder now and the noise of footsteps pounding on the track was clear. The ground beneath their feet vibrated ever so slightly. Maeve took the shotgun and Pete hauled Sam to her feet before he dragged her inside as fast as he could and slammed the door shut behind them.

“In here.” Maeve opened the first door on the left which led into the lounge. “Lucy close the curtains.” Lucy did as she was told, bathing them in near darkness. Pete laid Sam down on one of the sofas, the other one he pushed against the door to barricade it shut as best he could. “Did you get the ammo?” Maeve expertly opened the barrel and let two empty shells pop out of the chamber. Pete gave her two fresh ones from his pocket. The others he put on the table in the middle of the room. Maeve reloaded the shotgun and snapped the barrel shut. “Benefits of growing up on a farm,” she said, putting the gun on the table.

Maeve sat on the sofa against the door and Lucy laid down next to her, her head resting on her lap. Sam was asleep already, shivering despite the heat that Pete could feel radiating from her head. “Safety is off.” Maeve nodded towards the gun and looked down at Lucy. They both understood what that meant if those things got into the house.

With a loud crack from outside, the gate that separated the track from the house was no more and suddenly the screeching became unbearably loud. Maeve laid down behind Lucy and held her close, covering Lucy’s ears to block out the cacophony of noise that surrounded the house. Pete did the same with Sam, but he doubted even this would wake her. He was sick with worry about how fast she had deteriorated but right now, all he could do was hold her and protect her as best he could.

The sudden intensity of all manner of guttural noises reverberated around Pete’s insides and he could only imagine what was crashing against the doors and windows. It felt as if the house was going to be torn from the foundations and if Pete had shouted to Maeve from across the room, he doubted if she would have heard him.

Pete closed his eyes, but when he did the noises manifested themselves as horrific images in his mind. He tried to picture the girls, but his imagination tortured him with what could be happening to them. Instead he stared at the door handle behind Maeve, shaking with fear and willing the door to stay closed.

---

When Pete opened his eyes, it was dark. His phone, which still had no signal, told him it was 02.48. It was quiet, thank God, except for the sounds of the other three sleeping and even though it was cold, Sam’s shivering worried him as she was still hot to the touch. He felt her pulse which was weak. “I’m going to get something to help you baby,” Pete whispered into her ear, “I promise.”

Pete noticed a phone on a small table next to the sofa and sat up gently so not to disturb Sam. He held the phone in both his hands, anxious and afraid, please God let them be ok. Pete dialled Sarah’s number but all he got was an out of order tone. He tried Katy’s but got the same. He tried their neighbour’s landline but after ringing out it went to voicemail. Pete put the phone back on the table and rubbed both sides of his head with his fingertips, fighting the urge not to break down in tears.

Pete crept quietly to the window and pulled the curtain back an inch, just enough so he could peek outside. The moon was full, bathing the front garden and driveway in pale light. The grass was churned up, bushes had been flattened and broken bits of furniture littered the garden. It looked as if an army had rampaged through the small space. A dark pool of dried blood, torn clothes and bits of bone marked the final resting place of the man who once owned the house they were in, but there was nothing more left of him.

“All quiet?” Maeve whispered.

“Jesus,” said Pete, jumping from the unexpected voice. He checked that nothing outside saw the curtains twitch.

“Sorry. How’s Sam?”

“She’s not good.” Pete carefully let go of the curtain and sat back down on the sofa, his head in his hands. “She needs some antibiotics to fight the fever. She’s burning up.”

“Do you think it’s safe to check the house?”

“We have to.” He stood and picked up the shotgun from the table. “I’ll go, you stay here.”

“Have you used one of those before?”

“Not really. Just point and pull the trigger right.” He gave a half-hearted laugh. “I’ll check the house. Make sure everything is all locked up.”

“Grand so.”

They moved the sofa away from the door, gently so not too make any noise that might wake Lucy or alert anything that might be in the house. Pete raised his hand to Maeve when the door was just slightly open. Not enough to see through properly but enough to hear if anything else was out there. “It sounds quiet,” he whispered, holding his ear to the door frame. He stepped back and nodded to Maeve to open the door before he poked his head into the corridor and stepped out, letting his eyes adjust to the moonlight which penetrated the small window in the front door to his right. To his left was the kitchen and opposite a closed door and staircase leading upstairs. He checked the kitchen, made sure the back door was locked and closed the blinds. Pete moved quickly back down the corridor and listened against the closed door. He couldn’t hear anything inside so he opened the door, shotgun raised, and went in.

It was a small dining room with a table in the middle and six chairs around it. A sideboard ran along the back wall and a variety of drinks adorned one of the oak shelves. I could use one of them right now, Pete thought. Framed pictures were neatly arranged around the room and he recognised the old man instantly stood next to a woman, who Pete assumed was his wife, and three teenage children. A bowl of fruit sat in the middle of the table and after he quickly checked that there was nothing outside, he closed the curtains, grabbed the bowl of fruit and closed the door behind him as he left the room. “Here, we should eat this,” he whispered, passing the bowl to Maeve who was stood half in the corridor and half in the lounge so she could keep an eye on Lucy in case she woke.

“There’s a door under the stairs,” Maeve pointed to Pete. Inside he found a metal case hung onto the wall but it was locked when he went to open it.

“See if any of the keys we have open it. I’ll check upstairs.” There were more pictures hung on the wall as he climbed the stairs and Pete wondered if a stranger was rummaging around his house, looking at photos of his family, but he tried to put that image out of his mind. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and Pete checked each one. He had a careful look out of each window before closing the curtains but saw nothing around the house.

“Here, grab these.” Pete said to Maeve when he came back downstairs. He had a duvet for Lucy and one for Sam. “And I found a couple of jumpers to keep us warm. Jesus,” he stopped in his tracks, “where the hell did you get those?”

“In the case under the stairs,” said Maeve placing two guns on the table. “I’d say this one is for rabbits, but it can still kill you.” She said pointing to a rifle. “But this one,” she picked up another shotgun with a pump action loader, “will take a man’s head clean off.” She looked at the shotgun in Pete’s hand, remembering the body outside. “Anyway.” She put it back on the table. “I found some candles as well.” She lit one and placed it on the mantelpiece over the fire. “I don’t think we should turn any lights on. And there’s some water there,” she nodded towards a jug of water and some empty glasses, “but I couldn’t find any paracetamol.”

Sam was barely responsive when Pete lifted her head but he sat her up and made her drink the water before he tucked the duvet around her. Pete tried the phone again but still it wouldn’t connect to either of Sarah or Katy’s phones.

“Any joy?” Maeve asked.

“No. Is there anyone you should call?” he asked, handing the phone to Maeve, “although the mobile signal still isn’t working.”

“I should call my daughter in Ireland, Áine, Lucy’s mam. She will be worried sick. She was due to fly over in a few days to bring her back, but …” Pete looked up at Maeve and realised how tired she looked.

“I know what she’s going through.” Pete said quietly reaching out to squeeze her hand. “But Lucy is ok. One thing at a time remember.” Maeve smiled at that. Pete checked the wifi settings on his phone but couldn’t connect to the one signal it picked up. “There’s wifi at least but its password protected. There must be a laptop or I-pad around.”

As he walked up the stairs he heard Maeve talk excitedly down the phone. Someone had obviously answered and he was glad for her, but he wished to God he could get in touch with the girls.

The bedrooms were dark with the curtains closed so he used the torch on his phone to search each one. He found a laptop in the main room but it was password protected. He found I-pads in both the other rooms, and another laptop, but again he couldn’t get past the password to connect to the wifi. He sat on the edge of one of the beds, think for fuck’s sake, think, but he couldn’t think of anything else he could do. For a second his heart skipped a beat and he felt sick with anticipation when his phone vibrated, but it was only a low battery warning. He took one of the chargers from the wall socket and headed back downstairs.

“Who did you speak to?” Pete asked, plugging his phone in to charge.

“We need to turn on the TV.” Maeve said. Her face was pale white and there were tears in her eyes as her shaky hand stroked Lucy’s hair while she slept.

---

As soon as Pete turned the TV on, he wasn’t even sure which channel it was, they realised the enormity of what was going on around the country. They sat in silence for a while and just watched. At first it looked like rioting but … “This is mental.” Pete said, sat with his head in his hands. “They’re actually shooting people.”

“My daughter said the internet is full of … videos … of ...” Maeve struggled to get the right words out.

“Of the sort of shit we’ve just been through?” Pete asked. “Is this happening in Ireland?”

“There hasn’t been … any of this.” She gestured to images of those things on the screen which the news presenter described, very matter-of-factly, as the ‘Infected’ before the report cut to a video of a huge group of them running through the streets of Birmingham. Pixelated blocks covered the moment where people disappeared underneath them. “But people are saying it’s just a matter of time. Apparently this is happening all over Europe.”

“What exactly? People eating each other then coming back to life? Bloody hell.” Pete stood, shaking his head before he walked out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Maeve whispered so not to wake Lucy.

Pete came back with a bottle of whisky and two glasses and poured them both a drink. “This is actually happening.” He grimaced as he took a sip. “I don’t even like this stuff,” he said, looking at his glass and taking another sip. “What are we going to do?”
Maeve shook her head. “I don’t know.”

On the TV, the news reporter was sat next to a big screen displaying a map of the UK. “… three ground zero points identified by the Government’s Outbreak Control Team. These are London City Airport, Birmingham Airport and Luton Airport where flights have all entered from Portugal.”

“This is unreal,” said Pete pouring another drink.

“Those infected by the virus are becoming extremely violent and undertaking brutal, cannibalistic, attacks on anyone around them which seem to be completely indiscriminate. We are told that the infection is extremely contagious and is spread through body fluids. People are being advised to avoid all contact with anyone that has become infected …”
the news presenter continued.

“…Armed forces are establishing road blocks and safe zones around the infected areas.” The map next to the news presenter zoomed into London and he turned to face it to explain the graphic. “This red area here around London City Airport is the infected area. All traffic and movement into and out of the infected area is being controlled by these road blocks,” black dots appeared on the map, “anyone within the infected areas should seek shelter and stay indoors. This is very important. People are advised to seek shelter and stay indoors. If this isn’t possible, armed forces stationed at these road blocks will direct you to the safe zones.” Green shaded areas appeared on the map outside the infected area.

The presenter talked through a similar graphic around Birmingham Airport before a graphic displayed Luton.

“Oh Jesus.” Maeve crossed herself.

“Are we … shit, we must be right in the middle of the red zone.”

“But Hitchin looks ok.” Maeve said, relieved, as the presenter highlighted a green area on the map that covered the town, 10 miles from Luton airport. A black dot appeared to the south of Hitchin indicating that an army check point had been set up. “If Hitchin is a safe zone then the girls will be safe in Letchworth, please God.”

“I hope so. The girls and your husband.”

“He’ll be okay.” Maeve’s said as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “The silly old fool is probably sleeping right through it anyway.”
Pete put his glass down. I can’t drink any more of that. “We need to find out where we are exactly. There must be a roadmap or something around here.”

Maeve searched through a pile of books and magazines under the coffee table and pulled out an AA road atlas. “What about this?”

“Perfect. Okay …” but Maeve kept her hand on the book. Pete thought she wanted to say something and he thought he knew what was on her mind. “We are all getting out of here. Together. We will get your husband and then we will get to the girls then we will figure something out.” She nodded and gave Pete the road atlas but didn’t say anything.

Pete followed their route from the airport. “We must have come onto this road so we must be about here.” Pete pointed to an area on the map. He looked at Sam then back to the atlas. “This town here. Kimpton …”

Maeve looked at him. “What if something happens to you out there? What then? You saw the news. We’re in the middle of an infected zone. Maybe we should wait for help.”

“Sam is in a bad way. I need to get to a pharmacy … or a doctor’s surgery. It’s what, a few miles or so? I’ll be there and back in a couple of hours. Easy.”

Before Maeve could say anything else gunfire from the TV caught their attention. A man in an army uniform looked into the camera and pushed it down. “Turn that off” he barked.

For a second the camera filmed nothing but road, but someone off screen could clearly be heard telling the cameraman to “keep filming”. The cameraman must have climbed onto something because suddenly the camera was pointed over a line of soldiers. Beyond them a crowd of people were screaming and running in panic towards them. The camera went fuzzy for a second before coming back into focus beyond the screaming crowd of people.

“Holy shit.” Pete said at the same time as the cameraman.

Beyond the crowd of people, hundreds of the Infected of all ages, sizes, shapes and colours were moving en masse towards the camera. Sometimes a person would disappear, crushed under the weight of the Infected as they began their savage attack. Other times a soldier would find their mark and one of the Infected would fall from a gunshot, causing the Infected that were following to trip over the body, but others would just swarm round them.

The noise of screaming and shouting from those trying to escape was quickly drowned out by intense gunfire, but within seconds the Infected had torn through the line of soldiers. The cameraman fell and the last thing he broadcast was three of the Infected descending on him as he screamed from where he laid.

The screen went blank before cutting to two presenters in the studio who were both visibly stunned and momentarily silenced. “Ladies and gentlemen … we can only apologise for the graphic scenes you have just witnessed … we … we will try and get news on …”

“I have to go. I have to do something. Look what’s happening. They can’t contain this.” Pete pointed at the TV screen. “If I don’t do something …”

“You’ve got nothing to prove Pete.” Maeve interrupted him. “You saved all of us and you got us somewhere safe.”

“I didn’t save everyone.” Pete thought of the kid he killed, the guy he watched die, as he hid in the shadows while he begged for help, and the man who killed himself right in front of him. “We either stay here and hope this all blows over or … I don’t know, someone comes along to rescue us, which will take what, a few days? A few weeks? At the very least we will probably starve to death. Or I take a chance and go out there.”
Last edited by Coxy on Mon Apr 01, 2019 10:45 am, edited 1 time in total.

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Sun Mar 17, 2019 5:53 pm

Halfapint wrote:
Mon Mar 11, 2019 9:54 am
Finally got some time to catch up on the stores. Found this one and am really enjoying it!
Thank you!! Is really nice to hear!

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Sun Mar 17, 2019 5:54 pm

DAVE KI wrote:
Tue Mar 12, 2019 8:18 pm
Also just finished ch.3,and not disappointed at all.
Massively appreciated! No pressure on Chapter 4 then!!!!

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Sun Mar 17, 2019 5:57 pm

91Eunozs wrote:
Mon Mar 11, 2019 10:38 am
Thanks for the extra helping of Moar!

It may an Irish-American thing, but when my Irish friends/family speak “Irish” it’s speaking Gaelic. Doesn’t take away from the story, but caused a small stumble in painting the mental image when reading that passage about Lucy.

Regardless, good tale...keep it coming!
Technically you're right! Here it's more common to say speaking Irish but also think more people in general would understand 'speaking Irish' rather than 'speaking Gaelic'. Glad you liked it anyway!

User avatar
Halfapint
* * * * *
Posts: 3945
Joined: Sat Nov 03, 2012 5:41 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: all?
Location: Central Cascadia

Re: Z-UK

Post by Halfapint » Mon Mar 18, 2019 12:45 am

Hell yeah, great update! Hope it’s not too soon to say moar?
JeeperCreeper wrote:I like huge dicks, Halfapint, so you are OK in my book.... hahaha
Spazzy wrote:Tell ya what... If Zombies attack and the world ends I'll hook tandem toddlers to a plow if it means I'll be able to eat...

DAVE KI
* * *
Posts: 782
Joined: Tue Nov 08, 2011 11:47 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: WWZ though nowhere as good as the book.
Location: The Great State of (cough cough)Oregon

Re: Z-UK

Post by DAVE KI » Mon Mar 18, 2019 8:28 pm

AH but the heats on for 5,6&7 though LOL. Great stuff,keep it coming!
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

Coxy
*
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 03, 2019 4:51 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Shaun of the Dead! 28 Days Later ... 28 Weeks Later
Location: UK & Ireland

Re: Z-UK

Post by Coxy » Tue Mar 26, 2019 9:47 am

Chapter 5

It would still be a couple of hours until sunrise, but the full moon provided enough light for Pete to follow the narrow road towards Kimpton. Tall hedges either side of the road created a tunnel effect, so Pete could only see 20 metres in either direction before his view would become blocked. The world around him was quiet at this time of night but the noise of Pete’s breathing, his rucksack bouncing against his back and his footsteps pounding against the tarmac road thundered in his ears.

Suddenly a scream came from up ahead, “Jesus.” Pete stopped, frozen to the spot and pointed the loaded shotgun in the direction the noise had come from. Then he spun around in panic and looked behind him. Maybe the noise came from that direction, it was hard to tell. He heard it again and turned to the noise. Definitely this way, he thought. It must be an owl or a fox. Please God let it be an owl or a fox.

Pete crept forward, shotgun raised. He had a burning urge to pump it, like in the movies, but Maeve assured him it was already loaded and ready to fire. The muscles in his legs felt as if they had turned to stone and all he wanted to do was melt into the hedges and hide. What was I thinking? What the hell am I doing out here?

Then a fox came into view with a rabbit hanging from its mouth and Pete breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for that. As the adrenaline evaporated from his body, his muscles began to shake themselves back to life until he could no longer control the shaking and he realised his cheeks were wet from tears he hadn’t known were there. He dropped to one knee and looked at the fox which stared back at him before jumping through a gap in the hedgerow and disappearing with its breakfast. Pete breathed in deeply trying to calm himself. You’re safe. It was just a fox.

Pete wiped the tears from his cheeks. Get up. He slowed his breathing, trying to calm himself. Get, fucking, up. Pete’s legs were still shaking, but he managed to stand and took one step forward, then another. His eyes were locked at the point where the fox had appeared, but he couldn’t see any further along the road. He broke into a jog, trying to get out into the open, but the longer he ran the more the high hedges felt as if they were closing in on him like a booby-trapped room designed to squeeze trespassers to death.

Pete ran faster as panic set in, abandoning all pretence of being quiet or careful, just desperate to escape until, finally, the road opened into flat countryside and a cloudless sky. Pete laughed out loud, you idiot, you fucking idiot, and realised how ridiculous he must look, running down a country lane at four in the morning carrying a loaded shotgun. The kid he killed came into his mind. So did the news reports, the girls and Sam, barely conscious in some stranger’s living room with nothing but an old woman and child for protection. And here I am laughing. He felt guilty again.

As Pete jogged over the top of a small hill, past the ‘Kimpton 1 mile’ sign, the village came into view, spread out below him. “Holy shit.” Pete said out loud. An orange light hung over the whole left side of the village which was consumed by fire. Pete could hear a few alarms that carried on the breeze, a scream maybe, but no sirens. It didn’t look like there was any help for this place.

Pete followed the road at a jog until eventually houses lined the road either side of him and the sound of alarms, which grew louder with every pace he took, pierced through the stillness of the night. He could smell the smoke from the fires but, so far, they hadn’t reached this part of the village.

Most of the front doors that lined the street were wide open giving easy access to each home. Luggage was strewn across the road and a teddy bear lay at Pete’s feet. Small trees were snapped in two and hedges and fences that separated front lawns were flattened. A lamppost had fallen onto the only car on the street and crushed its roof under the impact, but still the lamp worked and illuminated the wreckage.

Then he heard that noise, that screech or growl or, whatever the hell it was and as he rounded the corner he dropped behind a post-box, paralysed with fear. He crouched as low as he could, willing his body to squeeze behind the small structure. Shit. Shit. He risked a glance from behind the post-box then pulled his head back instantly. Shit.

Dozen’s of the Infected had surrounded a house, just a few doors down from where Pete was hidden, and were banging and clawing against the building. He knew only too well what it must be like for anyone inside. He could hear the Infected clearly now and the noises they were making scratched at his insides. There was a car a few paces away, on the opposite side of the road from the house, and after taking a quick glance to make sure nothing was looking in his direction, he ran towards it.

They hadn’t seen him, thank God, but as Pete knelt beside the car something banged against the inside and he scrambled backwards, dropping the shotgun which clattered across the pavement. Pete flinched at the noise, afraid it would attract the Infected, and silently begged the banging inside the car to stop but it just got louder and more frantic causing it to rock from side to side.

From where he was he couldn’t see into the car, but slowly, he made to stand, just enough to see into the car window and beyond. In the split second it took for Pete to take in the scene he ducked back from the car as a mix of fear and adrenalin exploded inside him. Shit. His insides felt as if they had been kneaded flat and he couldn’t help but spit out a mouthful of warm liquid, as if his body was releasing pressure. He caught a lump in his throat before he was sick against the car, the fear of the noise he would make outweighing the taste of what he had to swallow.

Across the road a few of the Infected had turned from the house in his direction, but they just stood there, not moving. Inside the car one of the Infected was strapped in the back, fighting against the seat belt that kept it secured in place. Pete couldn’t tell how old it was or whether it was male or female but if it managed to escape, he figured it wouldn’t matter.

The noise had attracted more of the Infected and when he stole another look, he saw that they were now crossing the road, slowly, as if they were unsure as to why they were doing so. One of them spasmed violently, letting out a sharp shrill which seemed to rouse the others into similar spasms and in an instant the air was full of piercing shrieks. Pete decided to make a run for it. He looked back in the direction he had come from and closed his eyes to focus his mind and visualise the route he would take, but as he was about to move, the front door into the house suddenly gave way with a loud crack of wood and Pete shuddered at the screaming that ensued.

In an instant, the Infected weren’t interested in whatever noises were coming from the car. Instead they span towards the high-pitched screeching caused by dozens of Infected that had been whipped into a frenzy from the desperate pleas for help that rang out from somewhere in the house. The crowd forced their way through the door with such force that part of the doorframe was torn away from the brick. With the pressure relieved for a split second the Infected pushed forward breaking away more of the brickwork, widening the gap even further, and allowing more of the Infected to fall into the house before they were crushed under the weight of those surging in from behind.

At the end of the road Pete saw a flashing green cross amongst a number of signs fixed to various buildings that advertised a variety of goods and services. He grabbed the shotgun, not looking across the road or in the car, and ran as fast as he could. He took one quick glance behind him when he reached the pharmacy to check he hadn’t been followed, then disappeared inside.

---

Other than one rotating stand of sunglasses that had been knocked to the floor, the pharmacy looked as if it was open for business. Pete was momentarily stunned by the normality of it and half expected someone to ask if he needed help with anything. Pete moved behind the counter and started filling his bag with everything that could come in useful. Antibiotics, pain killers, anti-inflammatories, bandages, plasters, but he was leaving behind a lot more than he was taking. I should have brought a bigger bag

“Excuse me.”

The sudden noise snapped Pete out of his thoughts and when he sprang up at the interruption he spilled a handful of boxes across the floor. A man was stood at the other side of the counter. I didn’t even close the door. Pete could see the man’s mouth moving but he wasn’t paying attention to the words, instead he was focused on the shotgun on the counter. What was I thinking?

Pete took a step towards the gun and the man raised his hands and backed away. “I’m sorry,” the man said, “I don’t want any trouble, I just wanted some help. I’ll leave, please.”

Pete took the man in for the first time. No, not a man, a teenager. His hair hung below his eyes like the kids do these days and he wore a faded Green Day t-shirt and skinny jeans which Pete could never understand. The way this kid looked at him was the same way Lucy did. With fear. Jesus Pete, what the fuck are you doing?

“I’m sorry.” Pete said, taking a breath, “I’m not going to hurt you”. What is happening to me? “Pete reached his hand over the counter, “I’m Pete.”

The kid was tentative at first, but he lowered one hand to shake Pete’s. “James,” he said, before his hand went straight back up.

“Put your hands down James, this isn’t the OK Coral.”

“The what?”

“Never mind.” Pete smiled, although God knows if that helped or not. “So, what are you looking for?” Pete spread his arms out wide. “I’m at your service.”

James smiled. “Dad says antibiotics and paracetamol.” James took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Dad wrote it down. Apparently, mum had an infection last year and that’s what they gave her.”

“Your mum’s sick?”

“And dad, although he’s trying not to show it. And …”

Pete cut James off. “What kind of sick?”

“High temperature and sickness but …” James seemed reluctant to go on.

“But what?”

“Jane and Tony died about half an hour ago, they …”

Peter didn’t hear anything else. He went numb. So many thoughts went around his head at the same time he couldn’t process them. Did they die from the virus? Was Sam going to die? Was she already dead? Surely, they would have mentioned it on the TV? Pete remembered Portugal and the dead families, but they said the virus wasn’t the cause?

He had to get back to Sam, but he had to see for himself. “Give me your bag.”

“What?”

“Your bag.” Pete took it and filled it with whatever he couldn’t fit in his. Not really looking, just shoving stuff in. “How did they die?”

“I don’t know. But when they died dad said he was going to come here and get some medication for everyone else but he’s too sick, so I came. We watched out for Zombies for a while to make sure …”

“Zombies?” Pete turned and looked at him, his mouth open and eyebrows raised. “I don’t think …”

“Well that’s what they are calling them on the news.” James interrupted before Pete could argue. “What else do you think they are?”

Pete didn’t have an answer for that. Of course that’s what they were. It was just a bit of a shock to hear the word out loud. That’s the stuff of film and TV not real life. Or it was at least.

“So, we tried to Google what we needed but the signal has been really weak and all they have said on the news is to take paracetamol and drink water. Dad basically said we were on our own and had to do something. ‘Bloody useless Government couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery, so they aren’t going to be any use during a Zombie apocalypse.’”

Pete assumed that was an impression of his dad and couldn’t help but smile, he’s got a point.

Suddenly the pharmacy lights cut out, so did the lampposts on the street outside and Pete noticed a definite decrease in the amount of alarms that were going off. “We should go”, Pete said, “where do you live?”

James pointed to a row of houses opposite. “Up the hill, just a couple of roads behind those houses.”

“Ok. I’m going to come with you.” Pete gave James his bag back and picked up the shotgun as he ushered James towards the door. He saw James’ eyes widen at the gun. “I need to speak to your dad and I’ll show you what to do with all this but then I have to leave.” Pete glanced back down the road in the direction he had come from. Nothing. He pushed James out in front of him, “go,” and followed close behind.

The next row of houses was the same as the high street. Open doors and bits of luggage were discarded across the road. Pete noticed that there were still no cars on the street but when they reached the top of the hill, where he could see sections of the road leading out of the village, he paused.

“James, wait a minute.”

Most of the road was obstructed by trees and hedges but, where it was visible, he could see that it was completely blocked by cars. “Last night people just started packing up and leaving.” James said to Pete as he stared at countless cars lining the road as far as it could be seen. Every now and then Pete would see one with people inside. No. Not people anymore. Zombies. “Then there was a rumour that there was a big group of Zombies heading in this direction and more people started to leave. Then it was live on BBC news. They had a helicopter over some farmhouse a few miles down the road following the group. They said there was more than a hundred of them. That was it then, the whole village just ran. That’s when we checked on the neighbours and found out they were all ill like mum and dad, so we moved them into our house, closed the curtains and locked everything.” James paused for a second.” The Zombies tore through the village … and …” he sniffed, fighting tears brought on by the memory of what happened.

When Pete looked at him, James turned away, wiping his cheeks as if ashamed to be crying. Pete wanted to tell him it was okay to cry. God knows he had done enough in the last few hours, but he didn’t have the strength. All he could manage was to put his hand on his shoulder. They were silent for a second. “Come on then. Which house is yours?”

User avatar
Kolat
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Jan 17, 2013 5:43 pm
Location: Upstate New York, born and raised, on a playground is where I spend most of my days...

Re: Z-UK

Post by Kolat » Tue Mar 26, 2019 4:29 pm

Enjoying the read, please keep it up! :clap:
毒を食らわば、皿まで

“When drinking poison, lick the bowl."---Yoritomo Tarao, Small Enlightenments by Nancy Sauer

Post Reply

Return to “Fiction”