Chapter One

I slowly creak open the wooden door and we get in off the streets. It was once blue but the paint has been peeled off in parts with age, and there are stains of dried blood, only too fresh. I walk along the small corridor, the floor is layered with dust that has accumulated over a few weeks and the walls, like the entrance, are splattered with dry blood.

I grip my baseball bat tighter in my hands, the people behind me are obviously just as scared as me because none have said a word for a few minutes, the sound of our heavy breathing and the torrents of rain lashing from the heavens outside are the only audible noises.

The next door has a stained glass frame, but it is too dirty to see through. I attempt to wipe the window clean with the fabric of my jacket at my wrist, and although my jacket dirties, the window remains as it is.

I place my hand on the door knob, and only now, as I see my hand in front of me, do realise just how much I am shaking. I am not sure why I am so nervous, as I have done this plenty of times before, maybe it’s just because this location is a place of significance to me and I am afraid what I might find.

As the door swings gently inwards, I peer inside; thankfully I see nothing notably dangerous, however we remain on guard �" things could change in a second. I signal that it’s OK to my companions and we move inside.

I feel a little less safe than the others with me; they are all of bigger build and one has a handgun strapped to his belt, meaning he can defend himself from longer distances. Because of my baseball bat, I am forced to fight close ranged to my enemies, giving them more opportunities.

Even though two months have passed, and the sight I am witnessing is expected, I still feel shocked at what I am seeing. The pub in front of me, the one my family owned before this all started looks like a site recently destroyed by a bomb. The pub stools that once stood neatly in a line along the bar’s counter are now strewn on the floor, some of their legs are broken off and some seats are torn open, the soft fabric inside tossed carelessly about the place.

Above me, the cracked skylight that once allowed light into the pub is now allowing water to seep through it, and fall onto the tiled floor. The beer dispensers, lined up along the counter top, with their logos facing the customer, are all turned off, the power long gone. As we continue through the large room, I notice that some tables still have glasses on them with a mouthful or two of liquid, and plates of half eaten food, now rotting where they lie.

Behind the counter, are rows of glasses, although a lot have fallen or have been knocked off and lie in pieces on the floor. I see a newspaper, dated June tenth 2013, two months ago, back when this all began. The front page story is of the Japanese terrorist group that let off the biological bomb in the city of London, not only killing hundreds on sight, but also beginning the spread of infection.

Within two weeks, half the country was infected, and the number was only too rapidly increasing. As people desperately attempted to escape the country on ships and planes, they brought the infection with them and within a month, the disease had began to plague cities in the U.S, France, Ireland and Egypt. People were forced to fight or hide, survival their main priority.

‘’ Put that down Mark, you’ll only depress yourself.’’ Orders Bruno - one of the men that have joined me and a few other survivors on today’s scavenge.

‘’ It’s amazing how long it takes for a country to build itself, jobs, laws, currency, all gone in a few weeks.’’ I say gloomily and toss the paper back onto the counter.

We move behind the counter, the beer dispensers are lined neatly along it, people obviously raided this place for alcohol near the beginning, because the fridges beside me are all empty, only a few bottles of diluted drinks remain. I pull down one of the beer dispensers, just out of curiosity; it makes a gurgling noise, spits out a few drops of alcohol and splutters to a halt.

We continue along the bar, there is a shelf in the centre of the back wall; on it are a few bars of chocolate, some small trophies and a telephone. I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear, nothing, as usual. Behind the phone are some cigarette lighters, I pick up the entire tray and pour them into my pack. There is also a sink under the counter, only visible when standing behind the counter, and I test the taps. Like the beer dispensers before it, it too makes a loud gurgling noise, almost as if it is in pain, coughs out a splash of water and then stops completely.

‘’ Greg, you come with me please. Jane and Bruno, you two stay guard out here, just in case.’’ I say, and lead Greg into a small back corridor that leads to the kitchen.

The cash register has been ripped from the wall and bashed open on the floor, some loose pennies are scattered about but anything worth taking at the time is now gone. Now there is no use for anything like that, money, credit cards, cheques, all useless in today’s new world. One of the most worthless objects in existence now, even though over two months ago, it meant everything to some people. I step over the cash register and continue towards the kitchen.

The shelves to my left are covered with cups and glasses, once used for the variety of coffees you could purchase here, latte, mocha, cappuccino...what I’d give for a cup of coffee or tea right now. Something I’ve noticed since this began is that it’s the simple things in life that you can miss the most, clean water, electricity, the internet, a proper bed...

 We come to a small press just beside the door to the kitchen and I smile. It doesn’t show any signs of forced entry, and it is locked, so the main safe was never robbed, for some reason that thought comforts me slightly.

I slowly open the dirty metal door of the kitchen, not sure of what to expect. Long before the infection started to spread, the pub stopped serving food because it wasn’t making enough money, so I am not sure exactly what is the point of searching in here aside from some old kitchen supplies and ingredients my family stored in the fridge because of the space it offered. All it can really do is force old memories to the surface of my mind.

I creak open the door, and immediately gag as the pungent odour of rotting food infiltrates my nostrils. I lift my jumper upwards, to cover my mouth and nose and step into the kitchen, only breathing through my mouth to stop myself from vomiting all over the floor. Aside from the smell, the kitchen is a lot cleaner that I thought it’d be, it is still a bit messy, but that’s how it was before the infection began.

I open the drawers, pulling out large kitchen knives and shoving them into my bag, handing some to Greg to do the same. I move along the counter, and find some paper plates and plastic cutlery, this would be easier to use as opposed to the normal stuff because they require having to waste water washing them afterwards when we can just dispose of these when we are done.

I don’t chance opening the fridge, knowing the food will be out of date and knowing the smell will probably make me heave so I turn and walk from the kitchen, Greg follows. As we shut the kitchen door behind us, there is a loud crash of glass and thud on the ground, and then I hear Jane curse.

‘’ S**t.’’ I mutter quickly and we sprint back through the small corridor towards the ruckus.

When we reach the main part of the pub, where we left the other two, I notice that the noise came from the shattering of the skylight and the thud was one of the infected jumping in to join us. Jane is standing glaring at the infected man before her, as is Bruno, and both have baseball bats in hand like me. Greg has a gun strapped to his belt, but the noise of it would draw much more of the infected to us, and for the sake of just one kill, it’s really not worth it.

 Bruno runs eagerly forwards with his crowbar in hand, a snarl on his face. He first smashes the walker in front of him in the stomach, causing it to keel over. Her then mercilessly and viciously throttles the moaning creature with the bat, continuously bashing the creature’s skull, splattering blood all over the tiled floor.

He mutters profanities as he lays into the walker, with each fatal and powerful blow he mutters a word, just as fierce as his fighting. The creature slumps still on the floor, after what seems like an eternity and Bruno kicks it hard in the skull.

‘’ Bruno, that’s enough.’’ Says Jane, sounding scared.

‘’ You don’t tell me what to do.’’ He mutters angrily back. ‘’ I’m a free man. Any tissue to clean off this blood?’’

‘’ Check the bathrooms.’’ Suggests  Greg.

I lead the way, Bruno close behind, and I push the door of the bathroom open. To my surprise, it doesn’t smell that bad at all, it’s the same as it always did, the faint smell of urine drowned out by tons of air freshener, although the odour is a lot weaker than I remembered it.

I cautiously walk towards the cubicles at the other end of the bar, and begin to creak them open one by one. The first is empty, the toilet seat has been ripped off and there is no toilet paper left. Why someone would steal a toilet seat, I don’t know, but the world is seriously screwed up at the moment, so I shrug my shoulders and move on.

I’m glad to obtain two rolls of toilet paper from the second and third cubicles, I toss them both to Bruno, who cleans off his crowbar and then brings them out to Greg, still in the main part of the pub. I move on to the fourth, and push it open, nothing. The toilet paper covering has been ripped off the wall and tossed onto the floor; the toilet is obviously blocked because the water has risen up to seat level, again I fight a gag at the site of a large piece of s**t floating on the surface. I exit the cubicle and move on to the fifth and final one.

I try pushing open the fifth one, but it won’t budge; it is locked from the other side. I slowly get to my knees and peer under the cubicle door, seeing nothing. I gentle knock on the door, and hear a fearful gasp from behind it.

‘’ Hello?’’ I call in confusion, however I receive no response.

Greg comes in to the bathroom.

‘’ Something wrong?’’ He asks, gripping his bat tighter.

‘’ I think there is someone behind here.’’ I say, and he raises his baseball bat.

 ‘’ No! No! Put that away. I think it’s a kid.’’ I say, and he lowers his weapon.

‘’ What?’’ He says and walks up to the door, knocking it gently. ‘’ Hello? Who is in there?’’

‘’ Who are you?’’ Says a weak feminine voice from behind the door, the voice of a young child.

‘’ I am Greg, and this is Mark.’’ Says Greg comfortingly and calmly. ‘’ We don’t mean you harm, please, open the door, you must be starving.’’

‘’ Are you one of the zombies?’’ She asks fearfully and innocently.

‘’ No!’’ I reply immediately.

‘’ The infected can’t talk. I promise, we are the good guys.’’ Adds Greg, trying to comfort her.

There is a moment of silence, nobody moves or speaks, we just wait for her to respond. There is a small noise as her feet hit the ground and come into view, she was obviously standing on the toilet seat, so she was hidden. She steps up to the door, and there is a clang as the lock opens and she slowly creaks the door open only slightly so she can peer out.

The girl standing before me is no more than twelve, with dirty brown hair that falls past her shoulders. Her face is dirty, as are her hands and there is a look of innocence and fear spread across her small little face. In her hand, she clutches a small stick, and littering the floor around her are chocolate bars and packets of crisps, all empty.

‘’ C’mon. We won’t hurt you.’’ I smile but she doesn’t look convinced. I notice some bruising along her arms, she must be one tough cookie to be out here alone, either that or she is one lucky b***h.

‘’ We will take you to our friends, there is a group of us. We have food, and we are safe.’’ Adds Greg.

‘’ Where are they?’’ She asks, suddenly sounding very interested in us.

‘’ Just over in the bank.’’ I smile to her.

‘’ What is your name?’’ Questions Greg

‘’ I’m Mia. Can we go now, I’m scared.’’ She asks and we nod, and lead her back into the pub’s main room.

She jumps as she sees Jane and Greg, but we reassure her that both are okay. We lead her around the edge of the room, so as she won’t see the battered remains of the infected we took care of moments ago.

‘’ Who’s this little angel?’’ Asks Jane with a smile on her face.

‘’ I’m Mia.’’ She responds, sounding terrified.

‘’ We found her hiding in the bathroom.’’ I explain. ‘’ We are going to bring her back to the others.’’

‘’ Let’s bring her back now, then we can head back out to do some more scavenging.’’ Says Greg, and leads the way out of the pub.

I am the last out, and just in case this is my last time in my old family owned public house, I take one last look around the place quickly, trying to ignore the obvious eye sores like the broken glass or the body on the floor. I take a look at the photographs plastering the walls, the coat rack, where every day at one o’clock, like clockwork, my dad’s friend would hang his black hat and matching leather jacket up and then he’d sit down for a quiet drink.

I look behind the counter, where my father or uncles would be almost always working behind, chatting happily to the customers who were more than just money to them, they were all friends here. He’d occasionally give out some free drinks, if it was someone’s birthday or wedding anniversary, he was so kind. Of course you can’t afford to be kind in today’s world, it’s everyman for himself a lot of the time.

We stand inside the small porch as Greg and Bruno make sure that the street is safe for us to make it back to the bank, back to the others. After a few minutes, after a lone infected man has finally wandered past us and further up the street, we move out on the street into the rain. Even though I have seen the street like this so many times, it still shocks me as if it is my first.

Cars are stationary all over the road, most of them have been raided for supplies like petrol �" mostly by us - weeks ago, so they will be permanently like this until normality is restored and the disease is exterminated, which probably will never happen. If it was not raining, another striking factor that really stands out now is how quiet things are, without traffic or people, it really is silent.

We slowly and cautiously make our way along the pathway, weapons ready even though we’d rather not use them. A few shops ahead, there is an infected man, feeding on the already half eaten corpse of a dog. I look away, fighting tears, trying to prevent them forming by rubbing my eyes. I’m so glad we put our dog down via injection, just as things got bad here, that way, it wouldn’t have had a similar fate to this one.

We change our route, crossing the road through the maze of stationary cars and stay low, eager to avoid an encounter with the man. I try hard to forget the image of him, but cannot, his face burning vividly in my mind. His hair is falling out in most parts, revealing a scalp that is covered in boils and scabs. His clothes are filthy, torn and caked in dry blood, not all of it his. His fingernails are a dirty shade of brown, mixed with yellow and they are sickeningly long and looked sharp. His mouth is drooling both blood and saliva as he devours what was left of the poor dog.

 We continue along the path on the opposite side to the infected man, passing shops that we have already scavenged for supplies. We started in the buildings right beside the bank, slowly moving further away from it as we got braver and hungrier. I glance at Mia, a look of utter terror is spread across her face, staring back at the infected man, and constantly glancing nervously behind her, as if she is being followed. As likely as it is that we are being followed, it doesn’t matter, because we have weapons and can take them on, plus we are almost in the safety of the bank anyway, so she doesn’t have much to be worrying about.

We pass the car park that sits beside the bank where we are set up; it is full of stationary cars that we have yet to scavenge from. Amidst the cars, are two ambulances and three army trucks, which we have yet take precious medical supplies from.

We come to the steps of the bank, it looks so different than it did before the infection, all windows have been covered over on the inside by carpets, to prevent light from escaping at night and attracting the infected, and wooden planks are also nailed over the carpets to keep them in place and to secure the windows. The front door is the only way in or out, and is made from bulletproof glass. On the roof, three men are stationed to guard, each have a gun with a silencer attachment to prevent attracting the infected with their gunshots, how they found the weapons is beyond me, but to be honest I couldn’t care less.

 The automated teller machine out front has long been busted open; it was destroyed before we got here, back before it all got so serious, mass raiding occurred in jewellery shops, banks and electronic stores, anything taken now useless. If anyone had known how bad things were to get, they would have stocked up on the important stuff, food, clothes, weapons, it would have made a life saving difference in most cases.

We climb the steps and come to the door, after a few seconds, whoever is on the inside opens them and they slide open slowly. We step inside and they shut again behind us. We wait for the second set to open, and as they do we walk into the bank, most of the others that stay with us have come to welcome us back, my hunch is that they want to see if we have brought back anything for them. Altogether, there is about sixteen of us held up in here, people of all ages, sizes and abilities.

‘’ Who is this?’’ Asks Robert, the unofficial leader of our band of survivors.

‘’ This is-‘’ I begin but am interrupted by a woman’s voice somewhere in the crowd standing before us.

‘’ Mia?’’ Gasps Caroline, one of the newer women staying with us, only been here half a week.

The group in front of me part, leaving a clear path between us and Caroline.

‘’ Mom?” Stutters Mia, and begins to walk towards her mother, before she reaches her she has burst into tears, she sobs loudly.

Caroline shrieks and sprints towards the little girl, grabbing her around the waist and picking her up into the air, hugging her tightly. Both of them are crying now, everyone else is just standing watching them, the happiness spreading throughout the group because for once, something good is happening, something worth being happy about.

‘’ Oh God. I thought I’d never see you again!’’ Cries Caroline, Mia sobbing whilst laughing into her mother’s shoulder. ‘’ Where were you?’’

‘’ Hiding in the bathroom of the pub across the road.’’ She replies.

‘’ How long were you there for?’’ Continues Caroline. ‘’ You must have been petrified.’’

‘’ Four days, but I got some chocolate and crisps from behind the counter, and I could use the bathrooms there.’’ She explains and her mother lets out a laugh.

The crowd disperses, letting the two of them catch up with each other. Myself, along with the three that were part of my scavenging party head downstairs to the safes with the food and weapons we have stored away. We pass one safe room, the one that has been converted into a large sleeping area, sleeping bags and pillows pave the floor, there is an occasional five hundred euro note lying randomly around the room, the ones that we must have missed whilst clearing it out.

The next safe isn’t as big; it has food and medical supplies stacked inside. Most of the food consists of sugary sweets or chocolate, as most of the proper food has been raided from the nearby shops, and the nearest supermarket is a five minute walk from the bank, requiring you to walk through the car park beside the bank. There are quite a lot of medical supplies here considering the amount of us, but it’s better to be in a surplus of supplies as opposed to a deficit. I leave the toilet paper here as it is more useful as a medical item than wiping your arse with.

I move on to the third safe, stocked with weapons of all sorts, knives, axes, baseball bats, a variety of sticks with nails jutting out at one end, used as a mace of sorts along with a few guns, all empty of ammo though ( all ammo in the care of Robert, to make sure it’s not wasted ).

I empty out the knives I took from the kitchen in the pub along with the cigarette lighters I took. They will be handy if we can find some spray on deodorant for some DIY flamethrowers, although I’ve heard of people that have lost their hands from doing that.

I leave down my baseball bat, not needing it for the moment and exit the safe. The final safe is stacked to the brim with money, which only has one use here; it is used as toilet paper because it is so worthless and plentiful, how sickeningly ironic.

I head back upstairs, and see Olivia sitting down on one of the couches in the corner.

‘’ You okay sis?’’ I question and she smiles at me.

‘’ Fine. I’m just wrecked.’’ She answers. ‘’ It’s great you guys found Mia by the way, good job.’’

‘’ Thanks.’’ I smile.

‘’ Do you think mom and dad are infected?’’ She asks, but I am prepared for the answer, as it is a regular occurrence that this question is asked.

‘’ I don’t think so.’’ I lie. ‘’ I think they died before they had a chance to turn.’’

‘’ We were lucky we made it here Mark. We’d probably be dead otherwise.’’ She says.

‘’ Oh gee thanks sis’, it’s great to see how much faith you have in your twin.’’ I joke and she grins.

‘’ You know what I mean.’’ She says and we burst into laughter.

That’s something I noticed about life now, because things are often so dull and negative, even the smallest positive things can be hilarious.

‘’ You looked destroyed.’’ She begins and before she has a chance to continue, I interrupt.

‘’ In case you haven’t noticed, you are wearing a layer of dirt on your face.’’ I retort with a grin.

‘’ Let me finish.’’ She smiles. ‘’ I was suggesting that you sleep.’’

‘’ Ugh. I think we are going out again.’’ I argue.

‘’ So? It’s not like you’re a valuable member of the team, they’ll cope without you.’’ She says dryly and sarcastically.

‘’ Wake me if anything happens.’’ I grin and retreat back downstairs to the ssafe full of sleeping bags.