Infection Z (Book 4), page 4
part #4 of Infection Z Series
As if they were trying not to hit him.
Why would they try not to hit him?
Why did they want him?
His mind was racing so much that he didn’t see the zombie on the other side of the fence.
But it saw him.
It grabbed his chest. Dragged Hayden towards the fence. Good job it had a fat face because its mouth was right between the metal poles, snapping away, inches from Hayden’s skin.
Hayden punched its hand. Tried to pull back, to drag himself free. He looked over his shoulder. Saw more of the figures—the dead figures—closing in. Further behind, the group. Five of them. All of them armed. All of them with torches.
Even further back, he saw the truck they’d spoken of.
A black truck with a compartment on the back.
A compartment to put… whatever they put in there.
He didn’t want to find out.
He couldn’t find out.
He grabbed the side of the fence. Pulled himself up. As he did, the zombie didn’t let go of his black bomber jacket. It just clung on by the tips of its fingers, still snapping away.
The dead weight was nigh on impossible to lift. But Hayden kept on pulling. Kept on lifting, straining, until he reached the top of the fence. Until the zombie’s neck was level with the sharp spike at the top of the metal.
Then, when he was absolutely sure the zombie’s chin was in place, he let go of the fence.
He fell to the ground. And for a terrifying moment, he thought the zombie might just fall with him.
It clutched onto him at first.
And then the pole split through its chin, pierced its head.
Hayden looked up at the zombie. It kept on snapping away, dangling onto the sharp metal by its head. He hadn’t quite got its neck. But he didn’t need to. It wasn’t a threat. Not anymore. Pity for it. Damned pity. But he didn’t have time to sympathise.
He rolled over. A sharp pain split through his right shoulder. Shit. Must’ve dislocated it or something. Not good. Not good at all.
He dragged himself up. Stretched for the top of the fence.
The pain in his right shoulder intensified.
“Shit.”
He took a few deep, steadying breaths. His mind spun. He had to climb the fence. He had to fight through the pain and he had to make it. There was no negotiating. The footsteps were approaching. Time was running out. Soon, they’d capture him. Soon, he’d be dead.
Or at least his solitude would.
And that wasn’t a good thing.
He went to reach for the fence again when he heard something directly behind.
An engine. An engine getting closer.
Gunfire popping.
A door opening.
Then closing.
Boots hitting the ground.
“No need to run anymore, my friend,” a voice said.
Hayden stared at the green metal fence. The pain in his shoulder grew more and more intense. He couldn’t get away. He couldn’t climb. He was trapped. This was it.
He turned around. Looked into the bright lights shining on him.
A man stepped forward. A man with shoulder length black hair, with thick glasses. He was dressed in a leather jacket and skinny blue jeans. But it didn’t look right. Looked like he was playing a role. Looked more like a doctor or a vet than a thug. No stereotypes intended.
“Just let me go,” Hayden winced, the pain in his shoulder creeping up.
The man smiled. He lowered his gun first, then his torch. “Oh, we will. We will. In fact, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
Hayden frowned. “What do you—”
“Steven, turn her around. About time we showed the gentleman his ride.”
The truck turned around. The man walked up to the door. Grabbed a handle.
“My ride?”
He turned back to Hayden. Smiled again. “Congratulations, bossman. You’ve won a front row ticket to eternal safety.”
He lowered the handle.
Pulled open the door.
It took Hayden a few seconds to realise what he was looking at.
But when he realised, every muscle in his body tensed.
Chapter Seven
Hayden couldn’t find the words to respond to the scene in front of him.
“Well? You getting on board or am I gonna have to throw you on?”
The long-haired man with glasses smiled, but as Hayden stood there in the darkness, the moon now hiding behind thick clouds, he sensed an air of sincerity to his words.
Because the truck in front of him was filled with people.
Literally stuffed to the brim with people. All of them clinging on to whatever they could. They stared out at Hayden with wide, tired eyes. Somewhere near the back of the crowd, a baby cried. Flies buzzed around them, their skin covered in a film of dirt. He could smell the sweat and the piss from out here.
But there were people.
And they weren’t trying to flee the truck.
That had to mean something.
“Respect for running off from us,” the long-haired man said, walking towards Hayden. “I’ll give you that. Thing is we’re new to this. New employees, if you will. And different members of the team have different methods. So Clive’s sorry for scarin’ you off. Ain’t that right, Clive?”
Hayden looked at Clive, the bulky man with the gruff voice who’d chased him from Danny’s house. Clive grunted. Offered the smallest, slightest nod imaginable. Didn’t look like he was all that apologetic.
The long-haired man stopped in front of Hayden. Lights shone on the pair of them from behind. The mass of people looked out, not speaking, not saying a word. Didn’t feel right for some reason. Felt surreal. More people than he’d seen in one location since… since… he didn’t even know when.
“Sorry. I should introduce myself. The name’s Thomas. Thomas Morgan.”
He held out a hand.
Hayden just stared at it.
Thomas nodded. Sniffed. Pulled his hand away. “I get you’re scared. Get this ain’t how you saw your night goin’ down. But we’re here to help you. Just like we’re helpin’ all these other people.”
“My hammer.”
Thomas frowned. “Your… I don’t think you understand—”
“My hammer,” Hayden said, glaring at Clive. “I want my hammer. Then I want to leave.”
Clive glanced at Thomas, Thomas back at Clive. Thomas started laughing. Scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think you’re gettin’ me properly. We’re giving you an opportunity. A chance to join us. Someplace safe down south. Don’t need to worry about a hammer. None of these need to worry about—”
“I heard you,” Hayden said, trying to keep his composure. “And I heard what you’re offering. But I want my hammer. I want to leave.”
Thomas laughed again, but this time it was more of a snort of bafflement. “You—you’re sayin’ you don’t want to join us?”
Hayden looked past Thomas. Looked at the bloodshot eyes of the people in the truck. Men. Women. Children. All ages. All races. All of them staying put.
In front of them, these people dressed in the strangest assortment of clothes, all shining lights on him.
Armed.
“This safe place. What kind of safe place is it?”
“The kind that keeps you safe,” Thomas said, chuckling.
“Nowhere’s safe.”
“And I can see why you might believe that. All I can say is… well, our place is different.”
“Different, how?”
Thomas smiled. “That’s summat you’re gonna have to see for yourself. But you will approve when you see it. I can assure you of that.”
Hayden stared into Thomas’ eyes. He wasn’t sure how sincere he was being. Very few sincere people left in this world. But even if he was… what good was another safe place? What good was another false beacon of hope?
Better to just accept their fate. To walk alone.
Because with safe places came leadership, and with leadership came collapse.
Always.
Hayden cleared his throat. Butterflies fluttered in his chest. Not used to addressing other people. Wasn’t the best communicator before the world collapsed, let alone now. But he had to try. He had to show his manners. “I appreciate your offer,” he said, smiling. He’d read in some book that smiling made a more positive impression than anything else. He’d read a lot of books in the last few months. “But right now I don’t think I’m ready for what you’re advertising.”
A look of disappointment on Thomas’ face. A few sighs and grumbles from his companions.
“So I’d—I’d appreciate it if you gave me back my weapon and let me leave.”
“Leave where?” Thomas asked.
“That’s…” He was about to say it was none of Thomas’ fucking business. But he remembered his manners at the last second. Smiled again. “I have a place. Just a small place. I… I have someone I’m looking after there. I can’t just leave them.”
“Then take us to them. They’re more than welcome on the merry bus!”
“Respectfully… no,” Hayden said. There. He’d said it. Got it off his chest. “I’m sorry. Grateful for your offer. Really am. But it’s not for me. Not now.”
There was silence amongst the group. A taste of sweat in the air from the mass of people in the back of the truck. He couldn’t go in there. Not with all those people. He couldn’t go from the life he’d been living to that all of a sudden.
But Thomas wasn’t saying anything in return.
No one was saying anything in return.
Eventually, Thomas sighed. He nodded. “Close the doors.”
Clive walked to the back of the truck. Closed the doors.
The people disappeared, as too did Hayden’s chance.
“Give the man his hammer.”
Clive tutted. “But—”
“Just give it him. Respect his wishes.”
Clive shook his head. Then he reached into his pocket, walked over to Hayden and handed him his hammer.
Adrenaline made Hayden’s muscles shake. He gripped onto the hammer. He was okay. He was going to be okay. These people weren’t bad. They were letting him go.
But if they weren’t bad… maybe he should be joining them?
No. Stupid thought. Idealistic thought.
“I really wish you’d agreed to join us,” Thomas said, walking closer to Hayden. He shook his head slowly, his expression stony.
“I—I hope everything goes well. At your safe place.”
Thomas stopped. Held out that hand again. “Me too. Me too.”
Hayden put the hammer into his left hand.
Reached out to shake Thomas’.
He saw Thomas swing the taser at him with his other hand. Saw it and knew what was happening, right away.
But he was already too late.
Thomas pressed the taser into Hayden’s left arm.
Burning, crackling sensations stormed through Hayden’s body, made every muscle tense and twitch violently.
The hammer fell on the road.
“I really wish you’d just said yes,” Thomas said, as Hayden fell to the ground, trying to move, desperate to shake free.
Two men grabbed hold of him. Dragged him to his feet. Pulled him towards the truck.
Hayden started to scream. Felt a hand cover his mouth right away.
“You don’t say a word about this,” Thomas said, sweat rolling down his forehead. “You don’t say a word to anyone. Or you’ll all die. The men. The women. The children. You’ll all die. And you’ll be solely responsible.”
Hayden struggled. Struggled as they pushed him towards the back of the truck. Towards the darkness.
“So,” Thomas said, putting a hand on the truck door. “You ready to take a trip?”
Chapter Eight
The journey in the truck was even worse than Hayden could ever have imagined.
He couldn’t see a thing in the dark, windowless rear compartment. Nothing but the backs of heads. The mass of people. There were so many stuffed in like sardines that it was crushing, borderline impossible to breathe. Didn’t help that the truck kept driving over bumps, knocking elbows into faces, starting confrontations and arguments. Also didn’t help that it reeked in here. Reeked of sweat, piss, shit. Also didn’t help that a baby just kept on wailing somewhere near the back of the truck.
Simply put, this place was hell.
Hayden’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a drink. Didn’t know how long he’d even been travelling, just that it had to be morning now. The darkness in this truck was suffocating. Disorienting. He knew the truth—he could be anywhere.
He wanted to talk. Talk about where they were heading. Where they were going.
But the pain in his left arm reminded him of the taser. The bolts of electricity that tore through his body.
Thomas’ promise.
“You don’t say a word to anyone. Or you’ll all die. The men. The women. The children. You’ll all die. And you’ll be solely responsible.”
He didn’t know these people. But he didn’t want to take a chance. He didn’t want to be responsible for any more death.
He couldn’t live with it.
The truck stopped a few times on the way. Conversation picked up amongst the group. People gathered around the back door, excitement building in the air. But every time the truck stopped, it always started up again, accompanied by the slam of a door, the chatter of the guards.
Because that’s what they felt like. Guards.
This was a kind of prison.
The truck picked a few more people up on the way, too. Most complied. Most were thankful. All of them added to the mass crush.
But occasionally, someone turned down Thomas’ offer. Occasionally, they’d refuse. Walk away.
The doors would close.
Just like they had for Hayden.
And then that same person would willingly walk inside just moments later, clutching their arms.
Hayden wondered how many other people had turned down the first offer. How many more in here had been tasered into joining Thomas’ group.
He wanted to know. But he didn’t want to risk finding out.
He knew the lives of the people in here depended on his silence.
After what had to be another two hours, the truck pulled up again. Only this time, something different happened.
The engine stopped.
Sensing the change, more people pushed up against the doors. Someone stamped on Hayden’s right ankle, nudged into his dodgy shoulder and made him wince.
He looked at the door. Losing breath as the crush grew stronger. Tension building up inside, manifesting within.
He was going to suffocate.
He was going to die in here.
He was going to be crushed.
He was—
The doors of the truck opened up.
Light filled the back of the truck. Bright morning sun, disorienting, migraine-inducing.
“Single file,” one of the guards called, lowering a ramp. “Hey, hey! Single file.”
As the group in the back of the truck climbed out of the vehicle, another of the guards handed out bottles of water. The people were so thankful, so grateful, taking bottles and sharing the water between their families.
Hayden allowed himself to fall to the back of the queue. He wanted a chance to properly analyse his surroundings while he had an opportunity. Figure out where he was. Where Thomas’ group had taken him, taken all these people.
He wanted to see this “safe haven” for what it really was.
But as he walked out, he didn’t see anything significant. Not a town, like he expected. Not even a bunch of tents, flimsy enough for the zombies to rip through.
He just saw a sprawling brick building.
Each and every one of the truck travellers being led in through a double door by more smiley people, these dressed in black.
“Hey. Take your water.”
Hayden turned to his side. Saw Clive glaring at him. “I’m okay. Thanks—”
“Not an option,” Clive said. He stuffed the water bottle into Hayden’s chest.
Hayden took hold of it reluctantly. Inspected the cap. Sealed. A good sign. He’d seen how easy it was to poison water after what happened with Holly and Sarah. He wondered where Holly was. Whether she and her husband were still in Holyhead. Whether they were happy. Whether they were safe.
Then he heard a bell ring from the wall above.
“Ah fuck,” Clive said, jogging away from Hayden. He lifted a walkie talkie, spoke into it. “Got a breach. Three guards down to the west fences asap. Over.”
Hayden watched Clive run away, gun in hand. He saw walls, then. Huge brick walls with barbed wire wrapped around the top. Ladders propped up against them, one of them which Clive climbed, three people joining him in an instant.
“Keep moving,” someone muttered.
Hayden saw Thomas on his right. He was smiling again. But he could see right through that smile now. See it for what it was. A fallacy.
“What is this place?” Hayden asked, as he walked towards the entrance.
Thomas smiled. “Like I said. It’s someplace safe. Now, please. Keep moving. We’ve got a lot of allocating to do today.”
Before Hayden could query Thomas about what he meant by “allocating,” Thomas disappeared through the door. Hayden was stopped by a small woman of Chinese descent at the doorway. She was holding a clip pad with a thick pile of papers attached to it.
“Name,” she said.
“Um, it’s Hayden. Hayden Mc…” He thought about giving his own name. Something told him to hold off the full truth. “Hayden McDone.”
The woman jotted down his name. Pulled a red sticker from the side of her pad. Pressed it onto his chest.
She looked him in the eyes and smiled. “Welcome to Salvation.”
He didn’t have any time to query the Chinese woman. He heard gunfire peppering over the side of the walls, a few whoops and cheers from the guards.
And then he was inside.
He was soon ushered into a line by more armed guards. He realised he was in some kind of reception area. White tiles. Grey walls. All very lifeless. But the walls outside. They were big. And it seemed like they had everyone well drilled around here.
