H
ayden sprinted into the house
, leaving a gasping Bob behind.
He ran through the door. Back into the darkness. He heard the screams upstairs. Upstairs, where Bob had been sleeping. In the rest of the house, he heard footsteps. Panicked voices. Confusion and fear kicking in as the rest of the group awoke.
“The hell’s going on?” someone to Hayden’s right asked. Bradley.
Hayden looked up the brown-carpeted stairs. Looked up to where he knew he had to go. Where he knew he had to investigate.
“Make sure you all stay close,” Hayden said, walking away from Bradley, heading up the stairs.
“But what’s—”
“Just lock yourself in the lounge and don’t step inside. Not until I know it’s clear.”
Hayden heard Bradley kick up a fuss. Heard him begin to protest.
But it didn’t matter anyway. He was climbing the stairs. Making his way to the top.
As he climbed, the taste of sick building in his mouth, he thought about these people. This group who’d travelled so far, who’d been through so much. He thought about Miriam. Thought about the efforts she’d gone to in escaping the prison. He thought about what he owed her.
Bob’s words.
“Just remember what’s important in life. People.”
Bob, lying dead—no, undead—outside the cabin.
Something had happened.
Something happened upstairs.
And now Hayden was about to find out.
He turned onto the top floor of the house to see two people standing by the door. Craig and Deborah. They both stood there, holding on to the handle. Both crying.
“What’s happening?” Hayden asked.
They didn’t respond. They just stayed by the door. Kept holding on.
Hayden walked towards the door. A musty smell filled the air. Dampness. Sweat. “What’s—”
“You don’t want to go in there,” Deborah said.
Behind the door, Hayden heard the struggling. The screaming had stopped, but there was still movement.
Still something beyond that wooden door.
Something waiting inside.
Hayden stopped by the door. Looked at it. Listened to the silence. He knew what’d probably happened. A zombie had got in there somehow. Bitten Bob. Tossed him out the window. Or maybe he’d tossed himself out the window to protect the others.
No. The blood on his teeth.
He’d bitten someone.
He’d…
“It just… it just happened,” Deborah said, her voice shaky. “Out of nowhere. Everything was quiet. Then they just… they just turned.”
Hayden looked past Deborah. Looked at the door. The way she said those words.
They just turned.
It didn’t make sense.
It didn’t add up.
Something was wrong.
Something was…
He heard a bang against the door. Deborah screamed, tumbled forward.
And then the banging stopped.
The room went quiet.
Hayden stood there. Stood there, heart racing, staring at the wood. He knew what the sensible thing to do would be. Turn around. Walk away. Leave. Each and every one of them.
But he knew he couldn’t.
He had to see what was behind this door.
He had to see to understand.
To really believe.
“Hayden! What the fuck’s going on?”
The voice from behind made the tension seep from Hayden’s body. He turned. Saw Miriam standing there. She was holding a pipe.
Hayden smiled at her. Nodded. He felt bad for feeling relieved at seeing her again. Because something was wrong. Something terrible had happened.
But he couldn’t disguise his relief.
He was pleased to see Miriam.
Pleased she was okay.
“They just turned,” Deborah repeated, her words growing more slurred.
“Who just—”
“All of them. Bob. Will. Rajiv. One second they were okay. Next second they…”
“Are you saying they were bitten?” Miriam asked.
“No,” Hayden said. He turned around. Took the pipe from Miriam’s hand. She didn’t put up much of a protest. “No, she isn’t saying that at all.”
He looked around at the remaining group members, all of them peeking at Hayden, at the door. Fourteen of them. Fourteen of twenty-two.
The other eight, missing.
In this room.
On the ground outside the house.
“If they weren’t bitten, then what’s this all about?”
Hayden tried not to think back to Riversford as he put a hand on the door handle.
He tried not to think about little Tim Striker.
The way he’d just turned.
Turned, without a bite mark.
Turned out of the blue.
He’d been trying his best not to accept that reality—accept what it might mean for the world—for a long, long time.
He took off his jacket. Covered his face with it. Wasn’t sure if it was any good. Wasn’t even sure whether his suspicions were right.
But if they were, he couldn’t risk it.
He couldn’t risk a thing.
He felt the handle reach the end of its turn.
Waited a few seconds. Held his breath.
Then, he pushed the door open.
He heard the creak. Heard it echo right through the rest of the cabin.
The first thing he noticed was the window. Smashed. Specks of blood around the serrated edges of the glass. So that’s what’d happened to Bob. Definitely crashed out the window. Poor bastard.
But it was the rest of the figures that Hayden noticed most.
The four figures crouching down on the bedroom floor.
Ripping into three twitching bodies.
The figures of children eating the bodies of adults.
The figures of adults eating the bodies of children.
Hayden heard a few curses behind him. A few gasps as the rusty smell of blood filled his nostrils. But he didn’t process them properly. Didn’t take them in as he looked back into the room. Back at the group members. The group members who definitely hadn’t been bitten. Who’d definitely just… turned.
One of them—Rajiv—lifted his head. A piece of flab from Bhvishya’s belly rolled down his chin. He glanced up at Hayden and snarled.
Hayden backed away.
Closed the door.
Held it shut as Rajiv and the rest of the zombies battered at it, tried to get out.
“What now?” Miriam asked.
Hayden stood there. Stood there holding onto the rattling door. Listening to the sounds of the fallen group members. The turned group members. Memories, theories, fears all whizzing around his mind.
Then he stepped away from the door.
Walked towards the stairs.
“Hayden, what—”
“We leave this place,” Hayden said. His voice felt unreal, detached from his body. “We get far away from it.”
“But what about our dead?” Deborah sobbed.
Hayden didn’t have anything to say in return.
As he descended the stairs, all he could think about was Little Tim at Riversford.
All he could think about was his sudden turning.
All he could think about was what this meant. Not just for his group, but for everyone.
What it meant for humanity if the virus really had adapted in the way he feared.
T
errance Schumer stared
out at the crowd and wondered how he’d ever admit what he was about to tell them.
It was 11 a.m. The weather was improving as summer drifted ever closer. Today, the sun beamed down on his balding scalp, making his headache even worse. It was stuffy. Air filled with the smells of cooked meat—meat they’d procured from their farming project. One of the roles many of the early migrants took on. One of the ways to integrate them into their new society beyond the wall. The new world of New Britain.
But as with everything involving the migrants, jobs ran out. The numbers growing ever larger, the dynamics of this new world shifting by the day.
It couldn’t go on much longer. Not with New Britain bursting at the seams.
Terrance Schumer looked around at his people from the podium he stood on. He heard their chatter. Their laughter. People who’d lived here from the start mixing with the migrants who’d made their way inside. Beautiful, really. Peace. Real peace.
But nothing lasted forever.
He wished they lived in an ideal world. But they didn’t.
And they were about to understand that.
They were about to understand the truth.
The truth they might’ve feared. The truth some of them might have suspected all along.
The truth that shattered the walls and made this whole crisis all the more real again.
Terrance Schumer cleared his throat. The microphone squeaked. Caught the attention of the crowd.
“I… I don’t like changing meeting times. Twelve p.m. is always better for obvious reasons. But I’ve been left with no choice.”
A few eyes narrowed. Terrance Schumer saw the sense growing amongst the crowd. The sense that something was wrong. Something wasn’t quite as planned. That this meeting really was different.
If only they knew the full truth.
If only they knew.
Terrance Schumer cleared his throat again. Looked down at the wooden stage on which he stood. People below him. Houses behind him. Houses, apartments, shops. The wall.
But more than anything, he saw his people.
The people who stood by him.
The people who stood by his side no matter what.
The people who’d kept him where he was.
“I didn’t want to tell you the full truth. Not until we knew. For certain. Because don’t get me wrong. Make no mistake about it. What I’m about to announce changes things. Changes the way we’re living. Changes the way we move forward.”
The crowd were silent now. Silent, but for a few coughs. Silent, but for the wail of a baby.
Terrance Schumer’s eyes started to water. The reality of the situation grew the closer he got to the announcement. He wanted to just spit it out. Wanted to just get the truth out there.
But he couldn’t.
He had to build up to it.
He had to be… sensitive.
Or at least, he had to be political.
“For months, we have allowed refugees to walk beyond our walls. We have let them into our community as our own. And rightly so. We’re powerful. Perhaps the most powerful stronghold left in Britain right now. We’re the only place that can offer true shelter. True refuge. A future.”
A few smiles amongst the crowd. Grateful refugees. Proud individuals.
“But some alarming truths have come to light. Something we’ve suspected for a long time, but only now can confirm.”
Terrance Schumer saw the terrified faces. He knew what this would do to him. It’d destroy him. Destroy the trust between them.
But eventually, they’d come crawling back to him.
Because fear was as powerful as trust.
No. Fear was
more
powerful than trust.
“What’re you saying?” someone from the back shouted.
Terrance Schumer looked for the shouter. Didn’t find them. Didn’t have to. Everyone was staring at him. Everyone waiting for his announcement. Waiting for his revelation.
He wiped his sweaty hair back. Taste of vomit in his mouth.
He looked back up at the waiting crowd.
No getting away from it now.
No escaping the truth.
No place to hide.
“The virus. The infection. The one that changed so many of our loved ones. The one that… the one that ravaged our beautiful former country. The one that swallowed our world whole. It’s…”
Terrance Schumer saw Luis at the front of the crowd. He saw him nodding. Damned Luis. He’d wanted this all along. This was his method. His idea. The very thing he’d implemented.
The alternative method.
The backup plan.
But as much as Terrance loathed the idea, he knew it was right. He knew it was right for the future of humanity. The future of New Britain.
He knew people had to fall for people to rise.
And that’s why he felt no guilt about the decision he’d made to announce the reality.
Not anymore.
“Spit it out!” a woman shouted. Her voice echoed through the silence.
Terrance Schumer closed his eyes.
Swallowed.
Opened them again. Looked out at the crowd.
“I’m sorry to have to announce we’re closing the door to new refugees as of this second.”
Silence, initially.
Then a few puzzled glances.
Then, in an instant, a roar of questions.
Terrance Schumer watched the pandemonium beneath. Saw angry faces of migrants. Saw frustrated, puzzled looks on those who’d taken them into their homes, into their workplaces.
He listened to the chaos erupt. Listened to it surround him.
Then, he stepped back to the microphone.
“We’re closing the gates and we’re running a decontamination programme right here in New Britain.”
More puzzlement. Bafflement. Everyone shouting a variation on the same question. Decontamination? Why? What’s going on?”
Terrance Schumer looked a short, ginger woman right in her eyes. He remembered the day she’d crossed the wall. The day she’d stepped inside. Got her number. Got her shots. Got her assignments, just like the rest of her fellow refugees.
He saw the snot running down her face. The bloodshot look in her eyes.
He felt guilt.
He felt regret.
Because he knew the truth. He’d known it all along, and he’d kept it from her. He’d kept it from his people.
“The fuck’s goin’ on here?” someone screamed.
Terrance Schumer glanced at Luis.
Then back at the crowd.
And he said the words he’d been dreading all morning.
All week.
All… ever.
“The virus is airborne. And some of us are carriers.”
“
Y
ou ready
?”
“Not really.”
“Good. On three. Two. One…”
Hayden held his breath as he barged through the metal rear door of the ASDA supermarket. It’d taken a full morning and afternoon of walking to find their first sign of life—or life as it used to be. Fortunately for them, it just so happened to be a shop. A shop the group had scouted for ages. Watched from afar. Kept a close eye on.
It
looked
derelict.
Looked
empty.
Hayden hoped to whoever was up there that was the case.
“Come on,” Miriam called, waving the other thirteen group members along. They hadn’t spoken much. Not since the incident at the cabin. Not since Bob turning. Since Rajiv, Bhvishya, all of them turning.
Turning out of the blue.
Out of nowhere.
“You going first or am I gonna have to brave it?”
Hayden looked at Miriam. She glared at him from beside the open door. Seemed quiet in there. Dust floated out. A good sign. If dust had the chance to settle, it was usually an indication that people hadn’t.
They didn’t want to face any people. Not right now.
Not ever again.
Hayden walked in through the door. Stopping off at a supermarket wasn’t ideal. But the truth was, they were hungry. Low on food. Low on water. Low on everything. If they were lucky, maybe they’d find a few cans of beans in this place. Or some tinned tuna. Anything tinned would do.
Oh, biscuits too. Biscuits didn’t go off. If the rats hadn’t got to them, they’d be a handy find.
Hayden walked slowly through the dark storage room of the supermarket. The stuffiness outside was contrasted by the coolness in here. Hayden heard nothing but the chatter of his group. Nothing but the squeaking of his own footsteps against the dirty tiles. Nothing but the thumping of his heart.
He reached the door at the back of the storage room. There was nothing in here. Already raided, evidently. Didn’t bode well for the rest of the supermarket.
But they had to try.
Try, or starve.
He knew which he preferred.
“You look better when you’re taking a bit of responsibility,” Miriam said.
Hayden held the handle of the door leading towards the main supermarket area. He turned. Looked at Miriam. “What do you…”
“Stepping up to the plate. Leading. Like this. It suits you.”
Hayden wasn’t sure what to say to Miriam. He didn’t want to lead. Didn’t like the idea of leading anyone. Because he knew the chaos his leadership skills caused. He knew the loss that emerged whenever he got involved.
But he was at the front of the line. He was the one holding the door.
So maybe that’s just how it had to be.
Maybe he was the leader Miriam wanted for her group. That the group wanted.
He turned back to the door, not saying a word in reply to Miriam, and gripped the handle tight. Listened to the silence beyond.
Lower the handle, investigate, get out of here.
Lower it, investigate, get out.
He thought about walking away. About running away. The thought crossed his mind way more than had to be healthy.
But he knew there was no way out. Not now. Not anymore.
Not now he was with this group. Really with them.
Not now they were with him.
So he lowered the handle.
Pushed the door aside.
Lifted the sharp metal pipe.
The first thing that hit Hayden was the smell.
“Oh, Jesus,” Russell—one of the group members—muttered. “Is that dead?”
Hayden covered his nostrils. Looked around the empty supermarket. The lights were all out, of course, which gave these shops a really eerie hue. Something strange about a supermarket with the lights out. Something ghostly.
“It’s something dead alright,” Hayden said, stepping into the supermarket. “But I don’t think it’s zombies.”
He walked past the rotting fruit and vegetables, which flies buzzed around, maggots swarmed. Most of the loose veg had been eaten away, but the veg in bags were blackened, little holes in the plastic where rats and mice nibbled their way inside, giving the flies an entry route.
“Least the vermin are keeping healthy,” a ginger woman called Jill muttered. Always followed everything with a nervous little laugh. This included.
Hayden kept his hand over his mouth as he made his way towards the canned food aisles. Miriam followed closely behind. As he scanned his surroundings—the broken glass lining the tiles, stale beer festering from smashed bottles, cheery mascots on children’s cereal boxes grinning back at him like all was normal—Hayden couldn’t help but cast his mind back to Bob again. Something happened. Something made him turn.
He remembered Little Tim. The way he’d turned out of the blue.
Just like Bob.
Just like the others.
“Holy shit. Rice fucking pudding!”
Hayden watched Jill run towards the rice pudding, almost slipping on spilled food. The air was sweet with decay. And although Hayden was relieved to find this place—although everyone seemed happy to finally have some food—he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to get out of here. Wanting to get away.
Because something wasn’t right.
He felt a nudge on his left arm. Turned, saw Miriam smiling.
She didn’t say anything to him. Just kept on smiling. Blue eyes twinkling.
“What?” Hayden asked.
Miriam nodded at the group.
When Hayden looked at them, he saw them smiling too. Saw them laughing. Like their troubles, their travelling, all of it had been nothing, all of it was forgotten, all the loss and the pain was irrelevant now they had something to smile about, something to distract themselves with.
“You did good,” Miriam said.
Hayden scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t really—”
“What happened to you? Before we met. Really.”
Hayden’s jaw tightened. His cheeks heated up. He remembered everything, right from the start. The fear and confusion he’d felt in the first days. The way he’d stepped up because he had to.
Then the loss that just kept on stacking up.
He found himself looking into Miriam’s eyes and wanting to tell her everything. Wanting to open up. Because in a sense, he figured it’d make him feel better. It’d free him, somehow.
Instead, all he could say was, “I grew up too fast in this world. Now it’s catching up with me.”
He wasn’t sure where those words came from. But he saw Miriam’s eyes narrowing in concentration.
She put a hand on his arm. Offered a sad smile.
And in a soothing tone, she said, “You aren’t alone there. Things will work out. For both of us.”
Hayden felt Miriam’s hand on his arm. Felt himself falling into her eyes. Heart racing. Laughter, joy, all of his present distractions slipping away into the background.
And the past, too.
Slipping away.
Becoming irrelevant.
Because he did have something to fight for.
People to fight for.
Someone to fight for.
He was about to tell Miriam more about his past when he saw the little boy watching from the back of the supermarket.