‘So basically we’re fucked then?’ said Sarah, not noticing Reg wince at her expletive. ‘Even if we find somewhere safe away from those things, someone’s still gonna come in and kill us all. That’s great. Fucking great...’

  Reg stared at her and sighed. ‘You’re a bonny lass, why do you have to talk like that..?’

  Sarah shook her head and huffed, walking a few steps away before turning back. ‘Are you kidding me?’ she whimpered. ‘We’re all going to die, and you’re lecturing me on swearing?’

  ‘Hey’ said Ben, trying to sound as commanding as possible. ‘Come on. Let’s not lose it now. We need each other...’ Sarah looked to wheel away again before Ben’s hand caught her arm and she flashed an angry glare at him.

  ‘Get off m-‘

  ‘Listen. We’ll get through this, I promise’ he said, his voice charged with emotion. ‘You can’t give up. Not yet...’

  As Sarah stared back at him her angry expression began to melt away. Her brow furrowed and her eyes creased and in a matter of moments she was a frightened teenage girl again; fragile, vulnerable and scared beyond belief. She nodded nervously to Ben while a few feet away Chris and Katie both gave her an uncertain look. The girl’s emotions were all over the place; one moment strangely calm, the next angry, the next terrified. In Katie’s mind she was barely keeping it together, definitely feeling the strain most of all.

  ‘Right’ said Reg, seemingly unaware of the girl’s fragility while switching the pitchfork to his other hand. ‘If everyone’s ready we’d best get moving.’

  It wasn’t long before the eerie silence was replaced with faint noises in the distance. At first indeterminable, the group soon realised that drifting on the western wind were barely audible shouts and screams.

  ‘God’ whispered Katie.

  ‘Here’ said Reg, as a large field with a swing gate appeared further ahead on the left hand side. ‘It’ll be quicker to go through here.’

  Ben nodded. He, like the others, had not been comfortable following the track. The empty open meadow seemed a much more inviting proposition. For starters, it was heading away from the noise.

  ‘Hold on a sec’ said Chris, backing away to the opposite side of the road.

  Sarah wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. ‘Chris, what are you-‘

  ‘I’m just going to take a look’ said the youngster, pointing to a clear gap in the trees that led up a steep bank.

  The entire group knew that the sounds were coming from the other side of the hill, but before the rest could say a word Chris had already darted through the trees and was halfway up the slope.

  ‘For fuck’s sake’ swore Ben, setting off after him. ‘I’ll bring him back’ he said, glancing back over his shoulder at Katie and Sarah. ‘None of you move.’

  Each step onto crunching twigs made Ben curse as he followed Chris’ winding trail up the slope. At the top of the incline, around thirty feet up, he pushed through a curtain of greenery and finally caught up to the teenager, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie.

  ‘Bloody hell, Chris. What the fuck are you doing? You’ll get yourself killed.’

  The boy spun around and stared blankly at him, almost through him in a detached way. Ben hoped that he wasn’t suffering some kind of breakdown, although in truth it wouldn’t have surprised him.

  ‘I just had to see’ Chris said softly, turning again to look through the trees and down the other side of the slope. Reluctantly, Ben followed his gaze. Below them were the treetops of another thick expanse of woodland, spreading out for a few hundred feet before ending at the edge of a large open field. And beyond the field, nestled within a valley another quarter of a mile or so away, was a small village.

  But this was no longer the tranquil, idyllic Kentish location that it had been just a day earlier. Even at this distance Ben and Chris could see and hear a massacre taking place.

  Piercing cries of terror and pain, distorted by the faint wind, echoed up from the valley and into their ears. Dark smoke rose from blazing houses as men and women darted like ants from one place to the next, some trying to carry their children to safety as snarling figures fell upon them, clawing and biting.

  Chris could not tear his eyes away. He watched as people were dragged to the ground only to be smothered by frenzied groups of attackers. Some tried to fight back while others sank to their knees in submission, yet none were shown any mercy.

  ‘Come on’ croaked Ben, turning away. ‘There’s nothing we can do...’

  But the teenager, pale and trembling, did not move. The images were already emblazoned in his head and now they would stay with him until his dying day. He suddenly thought of his parents and his grandmother and his closest friends - and he thought then and there that he would never see them again.

  ‘Chris, come on’ Ben said again, this time louder. ‘We have to go...’

  Chris McReedy continued to stare ahead, taking note of the shambling figures that staggered through the village, watching as they began to spill out through hedgerows onto surrounding lanes and fields. Further away the hillsides were dotted with them and every far-off road, already filled with unmoving lines of traffic, swarmed with the dead. Their awkward gait, a succession of jerky movements, was unmistakable even at this distance.

  ‘Chris!’ Ben growled for a third time. ‘Come on.’

  This time Chris slowly turned around and gave a gentle nod. Ben’s scowl faded and he backed away, pushing through the thick curtain of leaves with the teenager close behind. Avoiding snagging tree roots, they retraced their steps as best they could and set off down the slope. They had gone roughly a third of the way when Ben suddenly drew to a halt, throwing an open palm out behind him to stop the teenager in his tracks.

  ‘What is it?’ whispered Chris, following the older man’s line of vision through the trees.

  ‘I don’t know’ Ben replied softly, holding his position. Twenty feet away a thick group of bushes rustled. Something moved within them.

  Fear jabbed at their hearts and the two men moved alongside each other, their eyes and ears searching for the origin of the sound. The bushes shook again and Ben quickly scanned the slope for a loose branch or a sharp rock; anything to defend themselves. He could see nothing.

  All of a sudden the bushes rustled more vigorously, parting as a grubby snout pushed through.

  ‘Jesus’ puffed Ben. ‘It’s a bloody dog…’

  Chris sighed heavily and wiped his brow as a Labrador, its golden coat drenched in red, trotted nervously from the foliage. A trailing lead dragged behind it through the leaf-litter.

  ‘Here boy’ called the teenager, dropping to his knees and holding his arms out. The animal’s tail began to wag excitedly as it shuffled forward, low to the ground with one of those twitching ‘dog-smiles’ on its face.

  ‘Be careful’ warned Ben, but the dog had already moved in to lick the teenager’s face with all the nervous excitement of canine youth.

  ‘Hello…Pepper’ said Chris, noticing a tag on the animal’s collar. ‘Where’s your master then, eh?’

  Ben looked around nervously. ‘Chris. We can’t keep it, you know that don’t you? Come on, we’ve got to go...’

  ‘He must’ve run off because of the explosions. Look, he’s terrified.’

  Ben looked down at the trembling beast, at its dirty fur and darting eyes. ‘Chris, listen to me. Think about it; if it barks it could bring those things down on us. It might even be infected itself. Chris, for God’s sake...’

  ‘I’m not leaving him!’ snapped the teenager, grabbing the handle of the lead and rising to stare into the older man’s face. Ben matched his glare for a moment and then his face softened and he shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Okay. Okay. It’s all down to you. But if it turns out to be a barker you are going to have to get rid of it.’

  Chris lowered his head. ‘Okay’ he mumbled reluctantly.

  ‘Promise me, Chris.’

  Okay, I promise’ said the tight-lipped youngster, avoiding eye contact as he turned away to trudge down the incline with the willing dog in tow.

  Ben sighed and tilted his head, watching for a moment before setting off after them. ‘By the way’ he said, as he caught up and drew alongside the teenager. ‘I’m not sure if you did biology at school, but it’s a girl, not a boy.’

  ‘It’s not good’ said Ben, shaking his head as they rejoined the others. ‘Those things are everywhere.’

  Katie, Sarah and Reg were all staring past him to look at Chris and the dog. ‘And just who is this...?’ asked Katie, pointing.

  ‘We found her’ said Chris, patting the top of the animal’s head. ‘Her name’s Pepper. She’s coming with us.’

  ‘You can’t be serious, lad’ said Reg, rolling his eyes to the sky. ‘That is not a good idea.’

  Ben shuffled closer to the old man, leading him a few feet away so that only Reg could hear him whisper. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I know it’s stupid but he’s promised me that he’ll keep it quiet. Look at him Reg, look at both of them. They need this. They need something...’

  The old man glanced over Ben’s shoulder. Chris and Sarah were making a fuss of the animal, patting its head and scratching behind its ears. As a result its tail was a blur of motion.

  Reg sighed. ‘Okay then. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. But dog or no dog, we’ve got to get a move on now.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Reg gave a resigned shake of the head and unhooked the large swing gate so that the beckoning field was open to them. ‘This looks clear. If we can get through here and across the next field then we should be in Shoreham. My wife’s sister lives just on the edge of the village.’

  Ben chewed the inside of his lip. Having seen the previous village he prayed that Shoreham was faring better...

  ~ 14 ~

  Maureen Herbert sat against the wall beside the toilet and stared wide-eyed at the sliver of daylight shining from underneath the door. She shivered, but it wasn’t because she was cold. It was because she was terrified that those horrible men would return to attack her again.

  A cordless telephone rested in her bloodstained right hand. Even with her hearing aid fully turned up she could hear nothing coming from the handset; no tone of any kind.

  She cocked her head to one side and glanced diagonally up at the small frosted window above her head. No noise was coming from outside now either.

  Reg, she thought again, as she had repeatedly since the initial explosions. I hope he’s all right.

  Suddenly, she winced and gritted her teeth. God, her arm hurt like hell. Placing the phone down on the floor she carefully uncovered the bloodstained towel wrapped around her left wrist. As the wound was revealed, she grimaced again.

  There against the mottled age spots was a recessed circle of torn flesh. Maureen closed her eyes and a single tear dripped free.

  Her poor sister. Poor Helen...

  They had been watching TV that morning, enjoying tea and a jam scone when the electricity had gone off. Power cuts had certainly become more frequent in recent years, especially during the winter months when the weather was bad. This however, was April.

  Slightly bemused, Helen had gone to the fuse cupboard to see if the switch had tripped. The house was old and had needed rewiring for some time, a job which (due to lack of funds) she had repeatedly put off. But the thing was - it hadn’t tripped. All the switches were set. It wasn’t just her house that was affected.

  ‘Oh well. Good job we’ve still got tea in the pot’ Helen had said with a cheery smile before closing the cupboard door and rejoining her sister in the living room. As she sank back into her armchair Maureen passed her a mug of tea and both of them picked up magazines to read. It proved to be the last act of normality before their world was changed forever.

  First there came a whooshing sound from overhead that rattled the windows in their frames. A roar of jets followed, loud enough to shake chalky plaster from the ceiling and topple ornaments from the shelf above the fireplace.

  ‘What the bloody...‘ Maureen gasped, rising from her seat as the noise intensified.

  And then came the explosions.

  At first far away, they grew louder and closer, taking the women back to their earliest memories of huddling together in a London shelter during the blitz. Now, as then, they clamped their hands around their ears and clung tightly to each other, dropping to their knees as debris fell around them.

  And at that moment Maureen Herbert passed out.

  It was seventeen minutes later when the old woman opened her eyes and stared up into the blurry face of her sister.

  ‘Wh-where..?’

  ‘Maur?’ said Helen. ‘Thank God. I thought you were a goner…’

  ‘Wh-what hap…?’

  ‘You fainted, love.’

  ‘Fainted? What..?’ Maureen’s addled brain frantically tried to work out what had happened. Just as she thought that she might have dreamt it another series of faint explosions echoed in the distance. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sounds like bombs, Maur. Bombs everywhere.’

  Maureen sat up, her head spinning. She put a shaking hand to her temple and at the same time felt her sister’s arm around her shoulder. ‘What’re we going to do?’ she asked weakly.

  Helen squeezed her shoulder. ‘Come on. First let’s get you up on your feet.’

  Maureen nodded and leaned on her sister as both of them struggled to stand upright. ‘Oh, look at all the mess’ she said, looking at the broken plaster all over the furniture and carpet. ‘Oh, Helen, Your lovely place...’

  ‘Never mind that!’ Helen snapped. ‘We can clean that up later. Come on, we need to call the fire brigade.’

  ‘O-okay, love.’

  ‘Stand here for a second’ said Helen, leaving Maureen leaning against the living room door as she walked out to the hallway. The narrow corridor was covered in dust and debris and partially blocked by a fallen coat stand. Putting her fears to one side Helen climbed awkwardly over the mess, reaching for a telephone which was miraculously still in place on top of a narrow table.

  Back in the living room, Maureen wiped her moist brow and stared out of the large window. The sky streamed with scores of vapour trails, each pinheaded by dark missiles travelling at incredible speed.

  ‘Dear God’ she whispered, as Helen reappeared in the open doorway behind her.

  ‘There’s nothing, Maur. The phone line’s dead…’ Then Helen noticed the patterns crisscrossing the sky. ‘Come on’ she said, her voice quivering. ‘Quick, let’s get in the basement. It’ll be safer down there.’

  Down among the dark shadows of the basement the women uncovered two sun loungers from underneath a large sheet and sat trembling as echoing explosions continued above them. Dust shaken loose from the ceiling drifted down onto their heads.

  They talked continually for some time, speculating on what might actually be happening; who might be responsible and when it might be safe to go back upstairs.

  An hour and twenty minutes passed.

  Aware that the last eruptions had ended a little while ago, Helen rose stiffly but determinedly from her seat.

  ‘I’m going to check it again, Maur. Whatever it was, it sounds like it’s stopped.’

  ‘Hang on then, love. I’m not staying down here on my own…’

  Hand in hand, both women climbed the creaking wooden stairs that led to the basement door at the back of the kitchen, opening it to a scene of destruction. The floor was covered in broken china and glass from dislodged cupboards. The air was thick with dust.

  ‘Come on’ said Helen, leading her sister over the debris. ‘Don’t worry about any of this. Let’s just get outside and try to find someone.’

  Maureen nodded, although she doubted that anyone in her sister’s quiet cul-de-sac would be of much help. As far as she knew, they were all of similar age and constitution. Surely they would be just as helpless, just as scared…

  Ignoring a back door exit in the kitchen, Helen focused on getting her sister along the hallway toward the front of the house. As they passed by the living room door Maureen happened to peep inside and looked once more out of the large window there.

  ‘Helen!’ she shouted, pulling her sister back. ‘Look!’

  Outside, over the lawn and hedge and flowerbeds was a covering of wet redness, almost as if the sky had rained blood.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Helen, knowing that her sister had no answer to give. Together they stepped into the carnage of the living room and moved closer to stare out of the window. Maureen shook her head and covered her mouth with a shaking hand, almost as if she didn’t trust what she might say.

  And then she saw it.

  Outside, staggering clumsily up the driveway was a bedraggled man bathed in scarlet.

  ‘Oh God!’ shouted Helen. ‘That’s Tom Ramsey, from the post office!’

  Maureen stared at the stumbling figure, taking in the strange gait and the blank expression, the haunting milky-white eyes and the mouth that drooled dark spittle. And then ‘it’ noticed them.

  The zombie stopped in its tracks, swaying unsteadily while staring back at the horrified women. Slowly the slack jaw began to open, emitting a guttural groan, and then suddenly the creature threw itself at the window.

  The women flinched as two bloody palms slapped against the glass, screaming as the former postmaster slammed his head forward to smear blood and bile over the window’s surface. Somehow the two women managed to tear their eyes away, backing out of the room and hurrying into the hallway and then the kitchen. The repeated sounds of cold wet flesh banging against the glass followed them as Helen grabbed her sister by the arm and pushed her toward the rear exit.

  ‘Quickly! Out the back door! Go! Go!’

  Maureen nodded, stumbling across the kitchen floor, reaching for the handle of the door and swinging it open. There, framed in the doorway and blocking the escape route was another swaying figure drenched in red. This one, a bearded giant, glared down at her with one cloudy eye. The other socket was empty; only a deep gunge-filled hole remained where the other eye had been.

 

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