‘Looks like we’ve got more room for a little further now’ said the big man.

  Ben sighed in relief. ‘Good. Then let’s get as far as we can.’

  Over the next couple of minutes the van slowly wound its way up the slope, weaving around a seemingly endless line of haphazardly discarded, open-doored cars. The only zombies that they could see were still away in the distance, random figures staggering over the landscape like scarecrows brought to life. Ben looked out of every window in turn, counting thirteen of the monsters before a voice from behind interrupted him.

  ‘W-where are we going?’

  He peered back over his shoulder at Chris. The boy was pale and trembling.

  Ben’s response was instantaneous. ‘Away from here.’

  Eventually the upward sloping road levelled out. The amount of cars in the way had decreased although the elevated view of other roads further afield continued to show huge levels of abandoned vehicles. Some people had clearly tried to head to the main towns while others had tried to flee those very places in search of less occupied surroundings. The truth of it was that when the bombs started dropping on that Monday morning, nowhere was safe.

  ‘How’re we doing for fuel?’ asked Ben, moving behind the driver’s seat to stare at the road ahead.

  ‘Not too bad’ grumbled Harry. ‘Should get us a fair way if’n we stay lucky.’

  Lucky? Ben had almost forgotten what the word meant. Sure, they were alive - but lucky? There was an argument to say that those killed quickly in the very first attack on day one were the lucky ones...

  ‘Listen, Harry’ he stuttered. ‘About Tony. I’m really sorr-‘

  ‘It’s done’ snapped the big man, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. ‘The boy ‘ad his problems, that’s for sure. Problems up ‘ere...’ He lifted a finger and tapped the side of his head. ‘Surprised ‘e lasted as long as ‘e did...’

  Ben shuddered at the man’s bluntness. ‘Christ, Harry...’

  ‘What? That’s the way things are now. Any one of us could be next. Now get used to it. I ’ave.’

  Ben bit his lip and backed away, looking in turn at every member of the ragtag band of survivors. Harry was hiding his loss beneath a granite veneer while Chris was a distraught wreck and everything about Sarah suggested that she was suffering from shock. Katie was trying to put on a brave face but Ben knew that his wife must be hanging onto her sanity as tenuously as he was. Already damaged, did they really stand a chance of getting through this?

  The road began to slope again, this time downhill. Abandoned cars were spread out more than ever now but on the open stretches of road there was also more proof of the violence that had gone before. Gnawed bones lay scattered alongside lumps of glistening cartilage and random clumps of human hair. As much as they told themselves not to look, the group could not help themselves.

  ‘Here we go again’ grumbled Harry as they neared to within thirty feet of another obstacle. Three cars, each set at a different angle, were blocking the way ahead. It had been a nasty collision as evidenced by the bloodstained, shattered windscreens and mangled metalwork. There was definitely no way to push through here.

  Harry drew the van to a halt and looked in the rear view mirror. Ben and Katie were bobbing from one smeared window to the next, assessing the undead threat outside.

  ‘It’s clear, I think’ said Ben, reaching for the handle of the sliding door.

  Katie grabbed his arm. ‘Whoa, what are you doing?’

  ‘Look, we can’t go any further until we get past, but the road’s clear on the other side of those cars. If we can just move one of them it might be enough...’

  ‘Okay, but why does it have to be you?’

  Ben gently put his hand up to the side of her face. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘That’s what you said last time when we nearly lost each other. Remember?’

  Ben nodded slowly, glancing down to see that she was still holding on tightly to the sleeve of his crumbled shirt. ‘I’ll be fine’ he repeated, pausing until she reluctantly let go. A few feet away Chris watched their conversation go silent before wiping his eyes with the cuff of his hoodie and climbing to his feet.

  Shifting in his seat, Harry turned the ignition off and the engine rattled and fell silent. Katie fired him a questioning glare which he spotted in the rear view mirror. ‘What?’ he growled. ‘We don’t need any more attention while we’re just sitting ‘ere.’

  ‘He’s right’ said Ben, once more reaching for the door handle.

  Katie put a shaking hand to her temple. Of course it was the right decision, but what if the van didn’t start again? She shuddered as Ben hauled the door open, allowing the all too familiar smell of decay to waft in.

  ‘Please be careful’ she pleaded, and Ben answered by tapping the blunt edge of the long-handled axe hanging from his belt. Then he put his head outside and peered left and right before stepping down onto the road.

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can’ he said, looking up into her big blue eyes. ‘Harry, be ready...’

  The one-time farmer nodded and moved his hand to rest on the ignition key.

  ‘I can help’ said Chris, pushing past Katie before anyone could stop him. Ben gave the bruised teenager a worried glance as he dropped from the elevated step to land gingerly on the road next to him. ‘I can try and move one of them too’ the youngster added with a wince, the skin around his eyes red and swollen.

  Ben shook his head. ‘Look, if you want to help, you can stay near me and keep watch. No heroics, okay? Let’s just get this done and get as far away from here as we can.’

  Sliding the door to, Ben left a gap of around a centimetre to save a few seconds for when they returned. Katie mouthed ‘Love you’ through the gap but he didn’t see it; he had already turned on his heels and was heading toward the three cars with Chris by his side.

  Katie was sick with worry. Struggling to control her fear she moved past the huddled Sarah and stood by Harry’s shoulder, stooping slightly to get the clearest view out through the windscreen.

  ‘You ‘ear that?’ mumbled the big man.

  Katie shook her head, perplexed. ‘What? I can’t hear anything...’

  ‘Exactly. There’s nothing. No engines at all, not even in the distance, even though we know the cars work now. That means either no one else has worked it out or...’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘...Or there just aren’t that many of us left anymore...’

  Katie didn’t reply. Instead she took a deep breath while behind her Sarah Janson shrank back even further into her seat.

  Ben glanced nervously through the window of the silver hatchback and pulled the door open with a metallic groan. The car was empty but he could see keys dangling from the steering column.

  So far, so good.

  Ignoring dried blood on the steering wheel he swung into the seat, reaching for the keys while Chris kept watch by the open doorway.

  ‘I don’t blame you for Pepper’ the youngster suddenly blurted. ‘I was stupid, nearly got myself killed for her too. I know that now.’

  Ben sighed. ‘You’re a good kid, Chris. I can’t say you were doing anything wrong but you know I had to stop you, right?’

  ‘...Yeah...’

  Ben looked up out of the car, once more noticing the swollen area around the teenager’s eyes.

  ‘Let me guess. Tony did that?’

  Chris nodded and then winced. ‘He just went crazy. That’s why we didn’t see those zombies getting closer. He just lost it. I think he would’ve killed me if Reg and Katie hadn’t stopped him.’ He looked nervously back toward the campervan. ‘What if Harry finds out what happened between me and him?’

  ‘He won’t. Besides, I think Harry knew enough about Tony not to blame anyone for anything he did, especially you. Trust me; I don’t think those two were your average father and son...’

  Chris exhaled deeply and looked further off into the distance. ‘Alright’ he muttered, unconvinced.

  ‘Look’ said Ben, beginning to turn the key in the ignition. ‘We can talk about this later if you want. For now, let’s move this bloody car and get the fuck out of here.’

  - Click!-

  Ben’s heart sank. It was a cold, lifeless click, no more than that. He quickly tried again with the same result, and then a third time. Slapping the steering wheel he shook his head, swore under his breath and hauled himself back out of the car. How could this be?

  ‘What?’ asked Chris. ‘Ben, what is it?’

  Without a word Ben pushed past the teenager and headed for the next car, a red estate. Again the keys were in place and the car was empty but this time Ben was less hopeful when he flopped into the driver’s seat.

  And he was right to be pessimistic.

  Despite a silent prayer, the ignition clicked lifelessly once more. ‘I don’t get it’ he seethed, climbing out of the car again. ‘Why are they not working now?’

  Chris shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe the batteries are flat..?’

  Ignoring him, Ben moved around to the third car and stared through the shattered windscreen. The front seats were covered in tiny chips of scarlet-tinted glass and among them were at least two human teeth. The driver’s door was already ajar and without opening it further Ben craned his neck around to see that for the third time in a row the keys were in place. Brushing glass from the upholstery he swung into the front seat once more.

  And that’s when a noise rose up from behind him.

  Instantly diving out of the car, Ben landed hard on the bloodstained road. Sharp gravel bit painfully into the palms of his hands as Chris rushed forward to help him up. Holding onto each other, the two men glared wide-eyed into the back seats of the vehicle. A gurgling hiss was coming from the shadows there.

  Further back along the road Katie had seen their reaction and was leaning out through the open door of the campervan. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Stay there!’ shouted Ben, waving her back inside. She obliged, pulling the door to but rushing to stare through the windscreen from behind the front seats.

  ‘Careful’ warned Chris, taking a backward step as the older man moved closer to the car again.

  Ben’s hand drifted to the axe hanging from his belt like a gunfighter reaching for his pistol. ‘I’ve got this. Just keep an eye out for anything else.’

  Close to the rear window something inside caught his eye and Ben suddenly recoiled in horror. A surge of burning bile rose in his gullet and he wheeled away, dropping to one knee.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Chris, his eyes darting back and forth between Ben and the darkness of the back seat. Ben showed the teenager an outstretched palm and gulped, somehow resisting the urge to vomit. He rose to his feet and turned back toward the car again, this time pausing for a whole three seconds to look properly through the rear window.

  ‘Ben, what is it?’ Chris persisted, but the other man didn’t answer. Shell-shocked, Ben began to back away toward the front of the car where he slipped dizzily into the driver’s seat. The teenager continued to watch him with a mixture of fear and puzzlement. Whatever Ben had seen had knocked him sideways.

  His hands trembling, Ben Reilly found the keys. He closed his eyes and exhaled, using a moment of darkness to gather his thoughts. Then a strange compulsion forced him to look up into the rear view mirror. It was a decision he instantly regretted.

  There, gurgling and growling from within the constraints of a baby seat was a zombified infant, infected drool dribbling from its toothless mouth onto a stained, sailor-style outfit. It hissed as its tiny fingers stretched out, wriggling like little grey worms grasping for human prey that was tortuously out of reach.

  Ben wrenched his eyes away from the reflection, knowing then and there that the image would be with him forever. In a dreamlike haze he turned the key and almost surprisingly the engine spluttered into life.

  Gasping, he shifted the gear into reverse and began to pull the crumpled bonnet of the car away from the other vehicles. The mangled metal groaned as it twisted and broke away, creating a small gap, and Ben immediately changed gear to go forward again. With the front of the car pressed against the wing of the silver hatchback and his foot hard on the accelerator, he gradually pushed the other vehicle aside. Finally, with the strained engine beginning to whine, he threw the gear into reverse again and drew the car back to leave room enough for the campervan to proceed. In the next movement he turned the key to kill the engine and climbed out.

  ‘Let’s go’ he said coldly, grabbing Chris roughly by the shoulder and turning him around. Ben wasn’t sure if Chris had seen the infant but neither said a word about it. As they returned to the others they gave the waiting Harry a shaky thumbs up and the big man turned the key in the ignition. The campervan immediately purred into life.

  ‘See?’ Harry said to Katie while leaning back over his shoulder. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  ~ 10 ~

  Lucy Tyler had done well to survive the initial bombings. Following the ‘red-rain’ she had also, incredibly, managed to escape the first wave of attacks. Her boyfriend, however, was less fortunate; torn limb from limb while screaming at her to get away. Tears streaming, the slim thirtysomething ran from that chaos-filled street as fast as she could.

  Running, hiding, and running again, it wasn’t long before she found other survivors; a group of fifteen including two children and one heavily pregnant woman. Together they skirted around the back roads, staying out of sight and eventually finding the rear entrance to a high street bakers. By this time Lucy was still frightened but no longer hysterical. Even in her bewildered state she knew that they had to stay silent to stay alive. And Lucy Tyler desperately wanted to stay alive.

  With the aid of a tall, reluctant leader called Simon she helped the others take refuge in the bakery storeroom, attending to minor injuries while teaching the children to play ‘keep quiet’ games. With sufficient rations of food and drink they stayed hidden in the darkening gloom while the carnage continued outside.

  But then came the night.

  The echoing screams out in the dark seemed to go on for hours, whether they were panicked shrieks, cries of pain or sobs of devastating grief. Occasionally there were other noises too, guttural snarls and hisses and the odd clatter against the shuttered front door. The only sounds conspicuous by their absence were the sirens of the emergency services.

  A less positive person would have wilted under such circumstances - but Lucy Tyler was no stranger to anguish. Five years ago she had been in Paris with her younger sister at the scene of a music festival when suicide bombers struck. In the pandemonium that followed they became separated, each fearing the other dead. At the time it was the most terrifying experience of Lucy’s life even though both uninjured siblings were subsequently reunited. Still, the event was not without consequence; Lucy suffered such a level of distress that extensive counselling was required...

  Six months after the events in Paris, with the therapy having done its work, Lucy’s approach to life was completely different. She had learned to appreciate every single day but was also able to accept the pain of loss much more rationally. Hailed as the poster girl for counselling organisations she was in demand to speak at schools, colleges and even prisons. She wrote a book about positive thinking, appeared on morning TV and spoke on the radio about how anyone could face their fears and conquer them. And for two days in the back room of the bakery she did a pretty good job of spreading an optimistic vibe.

  Then, inevitably, her luck ran out.

  It happened on a Wednesday afternoon following the Monday morning attacks. While in hushed discussions with the other adults of the group, Lucy had failed to notice that the eldest child (a ten year old boy called William) had slunk away from his mother’s side. He was at the door to the back exit, struggling to move a tall pile of boxes that had been put there for added security. When the highest box slipped and emptied its contents of heavy pans onto the floor, things rapidly took a turn for the worse.

  Simon and Lucy rushed toward the door just as William opened it and slipped outside into the bright daylight of the back yard. Simon was next to reach the exit but stopped there, blocking the way for Lucy while whispering harshly to get the little boy’s attention.

  ‘Will! Get back here! What are you doing?’

  The boy was ten feet away when he turned and gave a wounded look. ‘I’m looking for my cars’ he said, as if the answer was obvious.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s his toy cars’ Lucy gasped from behind. ‘He dropped them when we got here the other day.’

  Simon shook his head. ‘Oh for fuc-‘

  The sentence died on his lips, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want to swear at the boy, or even that he had noticed wispy trails of smoke snaking up into the air from dying fires in the distance. It was because of the crowd of stumbling shapes that had appeared at the end of the narrow yard.

  Their hiding place was blown.

  ‘Oh Christ! Will!’

  The little boy glanced over his shoulder and immediately screamed. He broke into a run and rushed headlong back toward the building, bundling past Simon in the doorway and into Lucy’s outstretched arms. She swept the youngster up as a putrid wave of noxious decay hit her nostrils: the stench of the staggering dead.

  ‘Quickly!’ yelled Simon, urging them to take shelter further inside. He reached out to pull the door shut but as it swung inward the edge of it slammed against the frame and rebounded with a judder. Something was wrong.

  The door wouldn’t close.

  Glancing down in panic Simon caught sight of a small, battered toy car in the corner of the threshold. With wide-eyed alarm he kicked it free, but not in time.

  A battering ram of rotting bodies slammed into the door, knocking the tall man back. Dozens of wildly clawing hands reached through the gap between door and frame, trying to grab at anything and everything. William screamed, squirming free from Lucy’s embrace. As he ran off to find his mother Lucy jumped up and threw her weight against the door.

 

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