Chapter 6
David reached the front carriage of the train. A dull thud from above made him jump. He looked up to see a man banging his hands against the window.
A moan echoed throughout the tunnel. David turned behind him, looking into the darkness. The low light from the train windows cast distorted squares of yellow upon the floor of the tunnel, revealing dark earth and stone.
Three people emerged from the dark and ran past David, not giving him a second look.
He had to find a way out of the tunnel - it wouldn’t be long before more people were infected. Maybe that businessman had turned already. David had read there was no definite incubation period. Could be minutes, could be days.
David felt panic setting in. He turned and set off into a run. After a few steps he tripped, stepping on a loose rock. His foot caught under one of the sleepers. His momentum yanked his leg to a stop, and he twisted his ankle hard. Something tore.
It took a few seconds for the shock to pass and for the pain to take hold. A sharp, direct pain, stabbed into his ankle. He rammed the side of his forearm into his mouth to stop from yelling.
He grabbed his ankle and squeezed hard. His guess was that he had torn a tendon in the fall.
His foot hung limp.
Another moan sounded in the tunnel, the tall walls amplifying the sound into something primal, terrifying.
“Shit,” said David. He breathed deeply to dispel the panic pooling in the bottom of his stomach.
The sound of the moan died away, and was replaced by a sound even more terrifying - the shuffling of feet, and of earth moving under the uncertain steps of something not fully in control of its limbs.
Getting closer.
David peered into the shadows. There was movement a few carriages down. The nature of the light didn’t reveal anything more than movement, but David had no doubt what was coming.
“Shit,” he said again.
He pulled himself along the ground until he was by the train. He got on all fours, and cried out as the movement in his ankle caused a sharp jut of pain.
He used the train to give himself leverage and pulled himself up onto one leg. He grimaced.
If he could get through the next few minutes he should be good - he would get used to the pain. It was shock and blacking out that was his enemy now.
He breathed fast, forcing air in and out of his lungs.
The shuffling. Closer.
A figure was now visible, two carriages down, moving slowly towards him.
David hopped away from the approaching zombie, supporting himself against the train.
He reached the front of the train and hopped out into the powerful light beams; two dazzling eyes staring into the dark secrets of the tunnel.
There was a heavy thud from the other side of the train, like feet landing on crushed rocks and Earth. He guessed the carriage door had opened and people were jumping out.
David needed help - he might never get of this tunnel without it - especially if being hunted by zombies.
He pulled himself forward, too fast. He banged his foot on the floor and a white hot pain seared through his body. He fell forward, flat on his face. His mouth hit the hard metal track and filled with fragments of broken teeth.
More pain.
He pulled himself forward.
“Hey, hey!” he shouted, spitting out blood and teeth.
No one paid any attention. A group ran past him, lighting the way with their phones.
Another dreadful moan filled the tunnel. Cold and deep. The sound reverberated into David’s very bones, into his soul even.
He glanced behind him, a shape appeared at the corner of the train.
Panic was now David’s friend - adrenalin shot into his body and numbed the pain in his leg. He pulled himself along the rocks and earth. He dug into the earth to get the grip needed, peeling back the nails on his hands as he did so.
The shuffling followed him, always there, always present.
David didn’t dare turn round - he couldn’t afford the milliseconds it would take.
It seemed he crawled along the floor forever. Minutes disappeared into a grey passing of time, where there was only one painful dig into the ground, followed by another. His ankle dragging in agony, his brain flooded with adrenaline. He fought to stay conscious.
And still the shuffling followed.
Up ahead a light appeared in the side wall of the tunnel. A dull orange spilled into the black, like a lighthouse. A door had been opened. A group of people disappeared into the door, then closed it behind them.
The light, so brief, so promising, disappeared.
“Hey! Help!” David croaked. He realised he was crying.
He pulled himself towards the door. He gasped for oxygen. Every cell of his body hurt. His fingers felt as if they had been clawed raw to the bone.
But he pulled. He didn’t stop, every movement of his arms against the earth kept him alive for another few seconds, bought him a few more feet.
And neither did the shuffling stop. It became more desperate, more certain.
Soon it was all he could hear.
The shuffling, nothing but the shuffling and its echo.
David reached the door.
He hit he door with his fist.
He pushed against it with whatever energy he had left.
“Hey, let me in! Open the door, please!”
A hand grabbed his leg.
Chapter 7
The door rattled with another bang and an accompanying shout, more panicked than the first.
“We open it,” said Sarah.
She reached for the door handle.
“Hang on,” said Alan. Standing closer, he got his hand on the door first.
Sarah paused and stared at him. “Open the door - whoever it is needs help.”
Jason stepped forward, “Maybe this guy is right, we don’t know what’s out there.”
“I’m not listening to this,” Sarah reached forward and tried to open the door. Alan pushed her away.
“Stop it!” said Cynthia, standing at the back of the room.
A muffled cry came from the other side of the door.
The grip on David’s ankle was strong, like a cold vice.
He spun round onto his back. A torn and broken body covered in blood leaned over him. It was wearing the uniform of a Eurostar employee, a young man. Its white shirt was now scarlet and ripped open, its guts hanging down like red jungle vines onto the floor.
Its mouth opened slowly, then snapped shut quickly. It fell towards David.
David managed to roll fast to the left; once, twice. There was a thump as the zombie landed on the dirt beside him.
David pulled himself away. It followed, also pulling itself along the floor. Reaching his leg just as David pulled it away.
He shouted again, aiming his shout to the door.
Sarah, nearly pushed off balance by Alan, recovered. Her heart was racing and she felt numerous nerves in her face twitching. Blood rushed to head. Her body tensed. She was used to fighting in the boardroom, but physical altercations were foreign to her.
She was surprised to see how little control she had over her physical reactions, due to a simple push.
She fought hard to stand up straight. “Open the door, Alan.”
Alan shook his head. His eyes darted around the room.
Abdul stepped forward and grabbed Alan’s hand.
Alan stared at Abdul for a second, then stepped back.
Sarah reached forward and opened the door.
Abdul grabbed the fire extinguisher.
A pillbox of dull orange yellow light spilled into the tunnel.
It gave David a moment’s hope and he kicked with his bad ankle at the zombie. David cried out in pain, but managed to dislodge the hand around his leg.
Two people ran from the doorway.
A large man in a uniform raised a fire extinguisher high above his head and dropped it hard on the zombie’s head. There was a dull clang combined with a wet cracking sound.
The zombie let out a final hiss, then lay still.
David let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you!” he shouted as he lay back, closing his eyes. Exhaustion hit him, as did pain. He grimaced his teeth and breathed hard.
“Are you ok?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Has he passed out?” said a man’s voice
David shook his head slowly, “I’m still here… my ankle.”
“Let’s get him out of here.”
David heard other voices.
Strong hands grabbed him under the arms. Someone grabbed his feet and he cried out in pain. They let go.
“Which ankle is it?” said the woman’s voice.
“Right,” he whispered.
Gentle hands lifted his injured leg by the knee. He was pulled along the floor for a few yards, his ankle kept clear of the ground.
Light shone through his eyelids; the texture of the floor changed from earth to cold concrete; sounds took on a closer echo. He opened his eyes a little, but the light hurt. He closed them again.
Pain washed over him.
He felt his consciousness wavering. He was happy to let it go.
Darkness.
“So what do we do now?” said Alan, motioning towards the man on the floor.
The man was passed out, lying flat on his back. Sarah had rolled up the bottom of his jeans to reveal a swollen and angry looking ankle, large purple bruises. His hands were a red and bloody mess - his fingers being the source of the blood. Some of his nails were missing. His mouth had dried blood around it.
The man was well dressed, somewhere in his early thirties.
“I guess you would have left him?” said Sarah, casting an angry glance at Alan. She wouldn’t forgive him for what he had done. It would achieve nothing to ferment a fight, but she wouldn’t let him off lightly.
Alan snorted and folded his arms. “We can’t save everyone.”
Abdul patted the air, a calming motion. “It is what it is. Let’s think now what to do. The plan hasn’t changed.”
“He’s safe now,” said Jason. “So you’re right, the plan hasn’t changed.”
“What do you mean?” said Sarah.
“I mean that he’s safe. We can go on,” said Jason.
Alan nodded. “This fella’s right. We’ve saved him now, so we don’t have to wait around. Ain’t none of them things getting in here.”
Sarah shook her head. “He’s passed out, we don’t know that he’s ok.”
“What about all the other people on the train?” said Jason in a soft voice. “I don’t see you worrying about saving them. The ones that were running down the tunnel, the ones that were attacked in the carriage.”
Sarah shot him an angry glance, but had no answer.
“It wouldn’t seem right,” said Mary in a quiet voice. Sarah smiled at her unexpected ally. “He’s here with us now. It wouldn’t seem right to just leave him.”
“Mary,” said her mum, “this man is right. He is safe now. We can’t be expected to save everyone.”
“We’re not trying to save everyone, mum, just this one man.”
Cynthia looked at her daughter for a minute, not finding anything to say, then looked away, towards Alan and Jason.
“I think we go, now,” said Alan. “Before things get worse.”
Jason nodded. “Agreed.”
Sarah felt the man’s pulse. It was strong. He was breathing normally. He had probably passed out from shock, fear, exhaustion.
Jason and Alan were right - if they left him he wouldn’t die.
“So let’s get out of here,” said Alan.
Jason opened the door that led out into the service tunnel.
Abdul’s eyes met Sarah’s.
It wasn’t right.
“No. I’m staying,” said Sarah.
“What?” said Alan.
“Why?” said Cynthia.
Sarah wondered why herself. “It just doesn’t feel right.”
“I’m going to stay too,” said Abdul.
Alan shook his head, “What is wrong with you two, we need-”
Jason interrupted - “It doesn’t matter, let them stay, we go.”
Alan nodded.
“What about you two?” said Jason, turning to Cynthia and Mary.
“We’re coming,” said Cynthia.
“Mum…” said Mary.
“Don’t start Mary, we are going.”
Sarah tried to make eye contact with Mary, but she kept her head down.
“Ok, good luck,” said Jason. “And thanks for getting us out of the train.”
“No problem,” said Sarah. “And good luck to you as well.”
Jason, Alan, Cynthia and Mary left. Mary raised her head as she left the room. She mouthed “sorry” to Sarah.
They closed the door after them. It echoed with a metallic clang.