The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle Page 4

  “Is he flipping you the bird?” Daniel asked, looking on in wonder. Bill’s hand gesture looked for all the world like he showing defiance, although it was unlikely. The absurd moment passed when Bill lunged at Rob, emitting a dry screeching sound. It was as if he was drying up from the inside, his voice sounding like wind over paper, rather than a more moist utterance expected of the living.

  Rob was ready for this attack, he had sensed it, and had already begun bringing the desk leg down onto Bill’s unprotected crown. The desk leg bent under the blow, but did deliver a satisfying crunch, exposing brain matter. A second strike, and the man went down on the spot. Rob stood there, shaking from the effects of adrenalin, the tip of the makeshift sword dripping blood and gore. With a rush, Rob let out the breath he had been holding and slumped down, sitting on a step, the metal of his weapon clanging on the marble stairs. His face was flushed, eyes looking down, appearing to age significantly in that moment. He’d known Bill a long time.

  Daniel sat down next to his friend, and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “It wasn’t Bill, you know,” he said, unsure what might comfort Rob at this moment.

  “I know that. A thought keeps going through my mind, that I’d have like to have done that to him on so many occasions in the past, and when I finally get the chance, the bugger isn’t even at home. He’s always been frigging annoying.” Danny smiled, Rob would be okay. He, himself, had thought the same thing on many occasions, but the law and civil decency had prevented that.

  “Shall we get going, then?” Daniel asked, standing up once more.

  “Sure, let’s,” Rob replied. “I’m going to have to get something better than this to defend myself with,” he said, trying to straighten his newly formed scimitar back into a foil.

  Continuing downstairs once more, their confidence was now higher; their first encounter with whatever these now were, was over, and they were no worse for wear. At last, the final flight of stairs was ahead. Now they had to look out for others that might be in the foyer, remaining ready to run back up the stairs and to safety, or so they hoped. It was good to have a bolt hole in reserve. Daniel pulled at Rob’s sleeve, and whispered in his ear, “don’t forget the receptionist, she may or may not be violent by now.”

  They had noticed a tendency for people to turn eventually, going from a somnolent, passive state to becoming aggressive and rather bitey. Whether they were intending to feed or just attack, neither knew, nor wanted to find out in a hurry; either option was just too appalling to think about. Looking back on his train journey into work, Danny regarded himself as having been lucky; he’d come all the way into work on a train, where most of the passengers had, it seems to have transpired, been on the turn. If he’d been Catholic, he would have sent up a prayer of thanks to his guardian angel.

  Reaching the bottom stair, Daniel stepped ahead of Rob, and slowly crept around the corner, the reception desk coming into view. The area was empty. Where was that bloody receptionist, he wondered. Rob stayed to the rear, ensuring nothing came at them from behind; they were already becoming a team. With luck, this coordination of effort would enable them to survive the upcoming journey. Daniel walked over to the desk and, peering over the fascia, confirmed the absence of the girl. He turned back to Rob and signalled the all clear. Suddenly a flicker of movement flashed behind Rob who was, in the next moment, thrown forward as the full force of the receptionist struck him in the back. Surprise registering on his face, he went down on the smooth floor, sliding towards the exit. The girl was on his back, clawing at him, trying to get a proper purchase. Her mouth was agape, her teeth and tongue coated in bloody saliva. She made a gurgling sound, her lungs filled with the slimy liquid. Her eyes were completely milk white; she had turned fully, and now, facing away from him, he could see how she had been infected. About half way down her blouse was a gaping hole. Her ribcage was exposed, and it looked as if an animal had savaged her. Now Daniel felt guilty for not noticing her state earlier; he really must become more observant, he thought, critical of his social ineptitude.

  Returning to the present, he aimed his trusty fire extinguisher at her head, and swung for all he was worth. Slipping on a pool of saliva and blood, he fell on top of the struggling couple, and they all slithered sideways in a heap of flailing arms and legs.

  “Fuck!” Danny shouted in surprise. The mad creature had now turned over and was trying to bring her teeth to bear on this new threat. Rob had his hands around her throat and was squeezing like there was no tomorrow. It had no effect on her whatsoever. If anything, she became more frenetic in her fight. Prising the receptionist’s hands from his arms, Daniel disengaged himself from the pile. This time he brought the desk leg to bear, and his years of cricket and net practice paid off. A clean strike to her temple stopped her in her tracks. She collapsed and flopped atop Rob like a rag doll. Grimacing in disgust, Rob threw her off, swearing profusely. His shirt was slick with bodily fluids; now they both had evidence of battle, their faces splattered with other people’s blood.

  “I hope this isn’t how the infection spreads,” Rob muttered, his face a mask of revulsion. Using his sleeve, he wiped himself clean of most of the mess. It was pretty ineffectual; both of them now looked like they had attended a gore-fest, the blood they had tried to clean off merely smearing over their skin.

  Looking out of the full-length entrance doors they could see that there were a large number of these infected people out there, wandering aimlessly in various states of undress and injury. At some point, many must have been in a fight for their lives before succumbing to the inevitable. Across the other side of the street, they watched as a couple, no more than in their early twenties, ran, hand in hand, chased by a mob of fast-moving infected. The girl tripped up in her high heeled shoes, and they both went down. Immediately they were pounced upon by those giving chase, as well as others who had been near the fatal stumble. It reminded Daniel of a nature film, the victim assailed by a pack of hyenas. It was truly horrible.

  “Right,” Rob said, “now we’re down here, and officially murderers with a body count of three, any ideas how the fuck are we to get to Cannon Street Station?”

  They both retreated from the doors so they would not attract the attention of those things outside. They had to find a way to blend in, be able to walk past the threat. Running wouldn’t cut it, some of these buggers could run seriously fast, and Daniel doubted he could have outrun the pack they had just watched bring down the boy and girl.

  “How the hell do they differentiate between their own kind, who they don’t attack, and those who haven’t turned?” Rob asked, not really expecting an answer. They sat there, thinking on it.

  “Could it be they smell their own kind? Or the way they walk?”

  “What am I, the zombie expert all of a sudden?” Rob said, tersely. Both were clearly stressed. Anything they came up with would be pure guesswork. While they waited, Daniel looked at his phone and found Janet had tried to call him. He dialled his voicemail and listened to her message. His face paled as he heard her voice.

  “Janet’s trapped in the library, in a room in the library. Apparently there’s a guy outside who’s been eating someone. That certainly answers one question in my mind. They do want to eat us. Not sure if that’s the good news bit.” He dialled her number again before Rob had a chance to answer. It was picked up after the first ring.

  “Hi Jan. Are you okay? I got your message.” For the second time that morning he was thrilled to hear her voice.

  “Am I okay? Am I okay?” she hissed angrily. “Are you a moron? Which bit of my message didn’t you get? That thing I told you about is on the other side of this door, enjoying his happy meal, so we’re being quiet, trying to wait until he forgets us. Maybe then we can get out of here.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Paul.”

  “Oh, your boyfriend.”

  “Stop that.”

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

  “Alright,” he could
hear her tone soften. Now wasn’t the time for an argument. “He’s going to come back to our place with me. I think we shouldn’t travel alone right now.”

  “I agree. Even though it’s him, I’m glad you have company. I would have preferred someone bigger and more capable,” he replied. Just so long as you can outrun him, he hoped, rather ungraciously. The times, they are a-changin’. “How are you going to get away from there? Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes. We’re going out the side window here. It opens onto a small alley. We haven’t seen anyone go down it, so it should be as safe as it can get.”

  “Okay. Call me when you get home, or if you have to hole up somewhere else. Listen, there’s something we’ve noticed about these infected people; they don’t stop if you try to kill them. Anything but a blow to the head, only seems to make them mad. Hit their heads really hard. And close your mouth and eyes as you do it, it’s messy.”

  “Are you shitting me?” she asked, still apparently unable to come to terms with their new world.

  “I shit you not,” he replied. “I am serious. Some of them also run really fast. Try to avoid being seen at all.”

  “That was my plan,” she replied sarcastically. Daniel chalked that one up to fear.

  “And find something heavy, we’ve got fire extinguishers and table legs. Janet, hear what I’m saying. This is for keeps.” The phone signal was fading.

  “Okay, love. Got it.” And the signal finally broke. He believed she heard his warning. That’s what he needed to believe.

  Chapter 5

  The Longest Half Mile - Ever!

  They had given themselves all of five minutes to come up with a viable and realistic way to stop the Infected, as they had now dubbed the diseased people, from recognising them as prey; so far they hadn’t been able to come up with a single useful or desirable idea. Everything from daubing themselves in the secretions of the dead in the building, through to draping themselves with body parts were discussed; all were rejected.

  Daniel was afraid that, by staying in contact with disjecta membra - a brilliant term he’d once found in a Sherlock Holmes story, describing blood, guts and remains - it was possible that they could, in turn, become infected. That frightened him more than anything they had faced so far.

  “You’re right, buddy. There’s not much point in avoiding being eaten if we contract whatever it is they’ve got,” Rob pointed out. “I’d like to know why you and I didn’t get infected when they did. If we knew, it might be useful, somehow.”

  “I haven’t got a bloody clue, Rob. I’ve got a cold, maybe that’s a clue, maybe not. You were in a clean room with filtered air, maybe that was your saving grace. Can’t see us ever finding out for sure. I just know I’d rather shoot myself than end up like these things,” he said, gesturing at the street, “if I had a gun of course.”

  They sat in silence once more.

  “I’ve got it!” Daniel cried, his tone jubilant. “What if we didn’t smell human?”

  “What? How could we do that?” Rob queried.

  “Being in the office overnight, did you bring any toiletries such as aftershave?”

  “Yeah, but it’s all upstairs. I didn’t think we’d need it. Right now, washing and smelling good isn’t exactly at the top of my list of things to do before I die. Oh, sorry. Bad choice of expression,” he added hurriedly. Daniel just nodded.

  “It may or may not work. Even if it gives us enough time to get past groups of them, it’s worth a try. Anything we can do is.”

  “Well, then. I’ll go upstairs and get it. It won’t take a mo’.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere alone. We’ll go together. We can be back down here in minutes.” Daniel was insistent they didn’t split up; he’d seen plenty of movies that demonstrated what a bad idea that almost always was.

  “Alright, then. Let’s get on with it.” They got up and, with more confidence at their ability to sort any problems they encountered, rushed up the six flights to their office. They passed Bill, lying there on the stairs where they had left him, blood pooling and congealing around his head, casting a gory halo of the damned. They tried not to look too closely at their handiwork, satisfied he wouldn’t get up again.

  Entering their office, not wanting to peer too closely, they noticed Marilyn’s body, too, had stayed where she fell. That was a relief to both of them.

  “So, where’s your kit bag?” Daniel asked.

  “By my desk, out the back near the servers.”

  “Let’s go and get it then. Lead on.” Daniel followed Rob as they walked along the corridor and around the corner to their open plan office. Rob’s desk was on the far side, next to the server room door. They both stopped dead. Mike Jones, one of their finance sales guys, was at his desk, looking dishevelled, like someone else had dressed him. He was hitting the keys of his laptop, staring blankly at the screen. Rob and Daniel crouched down behind a desk, praying they hadn’t been seen.

  “Jeez, where did he come from?” Rob burst out.

  “God knows. What do you want to do?”

  “Well, he didn’t see us. He’s just staring at his laptop. God, how many times before have I told him not to drool on his laptop? It invalidates warranty at the least.” He smiled wryly at Danny, who smiled back. They were blooded now, all their secure and, frankly, innocent lives, up to this point, had been negated by the violence they had recently perpetrated in order to stay alive. A new set of morals was emerging. They were becoming different, more elemental; civilisation was being stripped bare, exposing it as the sham and thin veneer it actually was.

  “If we walk calmly over to your desk, you just pick up the bag and we’ll leave, he may not even notice us. He does seem rather determined to check his email.” Daniel was peering over the top of the desk.

  “Yeah, and if he notices us, we split up and confuse him. If he’s one of those fast ones, he will go for one of us, and the other can get him from behind. Sound about right?” Rob asked. Back home, in Colorado, he was an avid hunter. His natural instinct was more attuned to this type of scenario than most. Daniel was more than willing to put Rob’s theories and experience to the test. He just hoped their weaponry was up to the job.

  “Sure, let’s do it.”

  Rising slowly, trying desperately not to make any sudden movements, they quietly made their way to Rob’s desk. The new carpet muffled their footsteps. So far, so good, Daniel thought. With a slight rustling sound, Rob picked up his kit bag and they began to make their way back out. Mike abruptly looked up from his ‘work’ and stared at them. His eyes, although completely opaque, followed them as they tried to make their exit. The desire for flight was almost overwhelming, it felt like there was a target painted on their backs. Rob held onto Daniel’s arm with a fierce grip to stop him from panicking.

  “Stay calm,” he hissed at Daniel.

  They continued to walk towards the door, every sense on high alert for any sign of reaction. Mike lurched to his feet, his head tilting in animal curiosity. Leaning forward, hands on the desk, he let out a gurgle, which rose in intensity to a grating roar, spittle spraying over his computer. They froze in their tracks. With panther-like speed, Mike leapt over the desk and started to chase them.

  “Now you can run!” Rob shouted. “Move!” They sprinted up the hall towards the reception area, their goal now in sight. Without turning around, they could hear Mike closing the gap between them. “Faster,” Rob shouted, breathlessly. It felt like such a long distance to cover to safety; it was a good thing they had chosen to leave their fire extinguishers downstairs; with the added weight, one of them would be zombie fodder by now. Ahead of them, they could see the glass reception doors, slightly ajar.

  Slamming into them, the heavy doors flew open and they both careened through the gap. They bounced back to their closed position, smashing Mike in the face and knocking him backwards, blood pouring from a broken nose. This time it was Daniel who reacted quickly, rushing over and sliding his desk leg through the loop
ed handles. It was just in time, as Mike crashed back into the doors, deliberately this time, bloodied fingers trying to prise them apart. They held. Rob looked up, breathless and flushed.

  “Bugger me, that was close,” he muttered, his gasps for breath preventing more words being spoken.

  “You’re not fucking kidding, mate,” Daniel replied. An idea came to him. “Get your poncey aftershave out, quick.”

  Rob rummaged through the bag and found what he was after. A bottle of YSL’s Fahrenheit.

  “Nice choice,” Daniel said, seeing the label. He opened the cap and saw it was a spray nozzle. “Excellent,” he said aloud, and began to spray himself and the area around the door. Finishing, he handed it back to Rob. “Quick, do yourself.” Rob did as instructed.

  He walked over to Daniel and stood by him, only the glass separating them from Mad Mike. Like a dog searching for a scent that would please, the ex-salesman seemed to be sniffing the air, perhaps trying to re-acquire the human odour that had set him off in the first place. Two rank, sweaty, frightened bodies would do that.

  Daniel turned to Rob, smiling. “I reckon this might just work. I don’t think we can assume it will distract all of them, but it might give us an edge trying to get to Cannon Street Station.” As he spoke, Mike appeared to lose interest in them, not even their voices holding his attention. With nothing to keep his interest, he turned around and shambled back down the corridor to his workstation.