Devouring The Dead (Book 1) (31 page)

“What happened to everyone?” said
Caterina. “Is there any chance my parents might still be...?”

“No,” said Harry. “
The authorities tried to enforce a curfew, they tried to evacuate, but it was too late. From the city only a few hundred got out.”

“Out of millions, you’re saying only a few hundred got away?” Christina felt
Caterina’s hand tighten around hers.

“I’m afraid the chances of finding a loved one alive are worse than winning the lottery.
Actually, that brings me on to my next point.”

“How to find your loved ones,” said Jackson quietly.

“Exactly.” Harry poured himself a glass of water. “Nobody is coming for us. There will be no rescue missions, no flotilla of boats to take us away, and the SAS is not going to parachute in and whisk us away in a tank or a helicopter or anything else you might have dreamed about. I’m only telling you this so you are aware of all the facts.

“Speaking from experience
, I can tell you that we were reliant on technology that ultimately proved pointless: guns, bombs, satellites and fast cars. Nothing could save us. The city, the whole country in fact, was so bloody over crowded that when one got infected, it spread to the next like an unstoppable chain reaction. It was dog eat dog.

“There is no police anymore. There is no government. There are no doctors and nurses, no hospitals, no schools. What’
s left of the British army is dying out there on the tarmac with its guts hanging out, ready to be the next meal for whatever zombie stumbles this way. We are on our own. Completely on our own.”

“Don’t hold back
, eh?” said Jessica. “So what are you saying, we might as well have one last big alcohol-fuelled orgy and then slit our wrists?”

“No, he’s not saying that,” said Tom.

“If I thought that, then I wouldn’t be stood here now,” said Harry. “Neither would you. You’re here because you’re a fighter; a survivor. You didn’t make it this far with an apathetic attitude, so please don’t grow one now. No, what I’m saying is we need a plan; a concrete plan that will get us out of the country safely, all of us, and all in one piece.”

“But how, where?” said Rosa. “We haven’t got further than three miles yet and you think we can leave the country? Do you know how to fly a plane
, because I can’t see how else we’re getting out of here?”

“What about a boat?” said
Jackson. “We got this far with a tiny piece of shit boat no bigger than this sofa - if we find something bigger, maybe we can get across the channel?”

Harry was shaking his head. “Any of you know how to steer a boat? Any of you even know the difference between starboard and port?
Between a rudder and mast?”

“I’d give it a try. Better than staying here and waiting to die,” said Jessica.

Harry smiled. “I hear you on that one, Jess. But if we flew a plane out of here, we would almost certainly be shot down in two minutes. If we tried to sail a ship, no matter how big or small, we’d be blown out of the water.”

“Why?” said Tom. “They’d have to know we weren’t infected. Zombies don’t fly planes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Harry. “When you contain and isolate an incident that’s exactly what you do. This whole country is, effectively, isolated now. Britain has been contained, like a specimen in a jar. You think the Americans or the Russians are going to risk the end of their country, the end of the world, just to save half a dozen Brits? There’s too much at stake, too much money at stake for that. For all they know, we’ve got something on board that could be infected and that’s a threat to them. In times of war, threats are dealt with as they only know how.”

“Deadly force, right?” said Jackson.

“You got anything stronger than water, Harry?” said Christina. He plucked a beer from the fridge and tossed it to her. As she opened it, Caterina grabbed it and stole a quick mouthful.

“I think I’m forgiven, under the circumstances,” she said
winking, passing the bottle back to Christina.

“So what then?” said
Tom.

Harry sighed. “In the force I had some good contacts and I was party to a lot of information that, shall we say, is not common knowledge. My boss, a friend,
a good friend that I trust, knew I wouldn’t leave without my son. I talked to him before he got out and he told me that if I made it, there would be only one way out of the country. They would leave the door open as long as possible, but that door closes tomorrow.

“We have to get to France. Not by air or sea
, but underground. It’s the only way.”

“The tunnel?” said Christina. “Shit, really
?”

“Back underground again?” said Jessica. “No way, we tried that once and it cost us a friend. Parker was bitten down there in the dark and we nearly didn’t make it out.”

“It might work,” said Tom. “You know for sure it’s safe?”

“Pretty sure,” said Harry. “As soon as the infection broke out
, the tunnel was closed off at both ends. It’s not sealed though, there’s still a way in. The Super’ told me it would only be sealed seven days after it began. It won’t be sealed this end, there’s no one here to do it.”

“So our fate is in the hands of the French?” said Jackson. “
Then we really are fucked.”

“Think on it,” said Harry. “Getting to the tunnel entrance is the hard part. If we can do that
, the tunnel will be deserted. There’s no reason for the dead to go down there, nothing to attract them. It’s a long walk, but I think it’s our best shot.”

“Why don’t we just stay here?” said Jessica. “Find a deserted part of the country, an old house or something and stay there. They can’t leave Britain forever, surely?”

“True, not forever,” said Harry. “There’s a lot of land here that’s valuable to the right people. Someone will come back eventually. Of course, it’s contaminated by seventy million infected dead bodies, so it would have to be purified first.”

“Purified?” said Jessica nervously. “You mean wiped clean, like..?”

“Probably not nuclear,” said Harry. “That would ruin the land for generations. My guess is a firestorm. Burn the country from top to bottom. They’d burn everything of course, leave nothing to chance. I’m not telling you that you can’t stay, Jessica, maybe I’m wrong. But I would strongly urge you to come with me.”

There was silence in the room as they thought. Tom already knew his decision.

“Tom, can you help me with Ferrera? I think I’d like to shift him and have a wash. Then maybe we can talk some more?”

Harry left with Tom and the room stayed silent. It took the two of them just over half an hour to get rid of
Ferrera’s body. They carried him down the runway as far as possible and then threw him into a small channel of water than ran between the two runways. Ferrera’s body bobbed up and down in the water as the tide gradually took him away from the airport.

“I’m coming with you,” said Tom as they walked back.

“Pleased to hear it, son,” said Harry. Tom welled up on hearing those words. He was remembering the day he told his father he was going to college, when his own father had used the exact same words.

They walked back to the lounge and found a greeting party when they returned. In the coolness of the lounge
, Christina, Caterina, Jackson, Jessica, and Rosa stood before them.

“We’re in,” said Jackson.

“All of us,” said Jess. She gave Tom a smile and he marvelled at how beautiful she looked, even after all that had happened.

“We’d better get some rest then,” said Harry. “
We’ll gather up some food and water, as much as we can carry. There are guns out there too. I know Ferrera had a stash on the plane. This time tomorrow, with a little luck, we’ll be out of here. If we make good time, who knows, we could be in Paris.”

Could it be true, could it be real? Tom barely dared to hope. He kn
ew he would never go home again, that was a dream that would stay just that: a dream. His parents and his friends were gone, but, looking around the room, there were clear emotions displayed on everyone’s face. Where he had seen fear, there was now strength; where he had seen despondency, he now saw optimism. This was his family now. He felt pride when he looked at them all.

Tom scratched at the itchy scab on his elbow, flecks of dead skin burying themselves beneath his fingernails. He made his way over to Jackson and the others to talk, to relax,
and to laugh; to plan for the future. If there was one...

THE END

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Read on for a free sample of Bleeding Kansas: A Zombie Novel

Derek Grace knew the years of unemployment might make him a little “off,”

As the dead rise to feast on the flesh of the living, they create another kind of career opportunity. One perfectly suited for a man deeply embittered by the realities of modern American life. A man in need of getting his rage on.

For Derek, civilization’s fall only traded one form of fear and misery for another—but at least among the predatory dead, there’s a chance for freedom. As soon as he can find a way across 600 miles of undead-infested Kansas back to what’s left of his family. Assuming they’re still there….

Derek Grace is good at what he does now. Crazy good. Derek Samuel Grace, a former nobody out of nowhere, arises from the gore-splattered wreckage to make his bones as the Dead Silencer in BLEEDING KANSAS.

1.

This is it, the day we’ve been looking forward to for so long, and it’s not starting well. Claire wakes up feverish and phlegmy, too sick to drive me to the airport. There’s not much to say but sorry, hope you feel better, before she crawls back into bed.

The next thing I know I‘m loading my luggage into the trunk of the cab because it turns out the cab driver should have called in sick himself. “Hey, sorry, man, you know how it goes!” he says. “
Ya don’t work, ya don’t get paid!”

“Tell me about it,” I say, settling into my seat.

“Airport, huh?” The cabbie sneezes wetly, brings his hand up after the fact. “Where ya headed?”

“Kansas City.”

“Kansas City! Kansas City, here I—!” God help me, he’s trying to sing that old song but a burst of coughing cuts him short. I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and cover my nose and mouth.

He composes himself, sniffs loudly. “So what’s out there?”

“Job interview.”

“Yeah?
All the way out there? I hope they’re paying for it!”

“Oh yeah.”

“Must be nice! Wish I could get a gig like that!”

“Me, too.”

“Ha! I hear ya! So whatcha been doin’ all this time?”

“Unemployed.”

“Oh. Nowhere?”

I have to wait for him to finish his latest coughing fit before I can answer.
“Pretty much.”

“You don’t seem all that enthusiastic about this.”

“Lot on my mind.”

“Oh.”
A short, barking cough, followed by a long, gurgling wheeze. “Yeah. It’s tough out there.”

“Yeah.”

“So how long you been outta work?”

“Long enough.”
Four years, but who’s counting?

“Me, I got to work, know what I’m
sayin’? I’d go crazy stayin’ at h—!“ The driver explodes into another round of coughing, his entire body bucking and convulsing behind the wheel. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open to see the road.

After a terrifying stretch of seconds in which I wonder if he’s going to run the red light we screech to a halt, the taxi’s rear swerving with the force—“Here, you want a piece of none-of-your business to chew on?” I say. “If I don’t make this flight my house goes into foreclosure and my family is homeless as of next month! If you can’t make it to the airport, I need someone who can!”

“Whoa, man, it’s okay, it’s okay! I got this!”