The Virus by Lee, Damien (summer books txt) 📕

“Why not?”

“Because there are loads of those things out here. Not to mention the ones chasing us.”

“So where do you suggest?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, towns and cities will be crawling with those things. We wouldn’t even get a chance to hide. We can fortify this place, it probably has food and water, and if he’s a decent farmer, he’ll probably have a shotgun lying around as well.”

“But what if the people inside are already infected?”

“Chances are we’ll encounter two or three at the most. I’d rather take my chances with them than an entire city.”

They fell silent as they drove the rest of the way. As they pulled onto the dirt road leading to the farm, Lisa finally spoke.

“Suppose we can’t get in? Then where do we go?”

“We’ll deal with that if we have to.”

Frank gripped the steering wheel tighter as the van shuddered over the uneven ground. He observed a sign as they approached.

“Cobton Farm. Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

“Let me guess, you used to be a farmer?” His passenger smirked.

“Nope.” Frank eased off the accelerator, allowing the van to a crawl next to the Land Rover. “But I did grow up on a farm.”

He eyed the house with a frown. Every window, both top and bottom, had been boarded up with planks of wood. The front door appeared to be the only untouched aspect of the house.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“We might be in luck.”

He grabbed the baton as he jumped from the van. He approached the house with Lisa in tow.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because this house is already barricaded. There are probably survivors in there.”

He pounded on the door and took a step back, scanning the acres of farmland.

“What if they don’t want us here?” Lisa asked.

“Then we don’t give them a choice.”

Frank stepped forward, pounding the door a second time. There was still no sound from within. He approached a window and peered through a gap in the boards. The curtains were drawn, but a small opening gave him a glimpse inside. He could see at least two candles contributing to the trifling light in what appeared to be a living room. Turning back, he approached the door once more.

“Well?” Lisa asked.

He pressed an ear against the wooden frame. A quiet shuffling from within the house met his ears. He scowled and stepped away, handing the baton to Lisa. “There’s definitely somebody in there.”

Before she could answer, he kicked the door, striking it three times. He stopped and listened for a further sound. It came, but not from the house.

A high-pitched shriek caused them both to whirl around. In the next field, Frank spotted a topless woman sprinting towards them. Her tattered hair sailed back as she ran, her disfigured breasts swinging wildly by strands of flesh. She was close when the sound of opening locks met their ears. Frank turned as the door swung open. He didn’t see the owner, but he saw the firearm aimed at his face. He stared down the long barrel of the shotgun as the squealing sounds of death drew near.

17

The town was filled with chaos. Everywhere Amy looked, fires raged, corpses walked, and the people she vaguely recognised were scattered around the road like discarded trash. She fought to keep her composure as the extent of the infection became clear. If Cranston had been destroyed in such a small space of time, what did that mean for the rest of the country?

“Are you okay?” Ben asked as they drove through the desecrated streets.

“I just can’t believe it. I know some of these people.”

Her eyes fixed on the blood-stained corpse of Mrs. Carmichael as it tore a chunk from a severed leg. It regarded the car as they passed; ligaments and tendons dangling from its mouth.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to stay put for long,” Ben told her, glancing around at the corpses littering the floor. “It might not be safe.”

Amy nodded, determined only to get home and retrieve her phone. She had to know her loved ones were safe. She turned a corner onto the street that led to her house. The area seemed a lot less populated, with only two dead bodies lying in the road. She manoeuvred around them before pulling up outside her home.

“We here?” Ben asked, looking around the street.

“Yeah.”

Amy led the way to her front door. She instinctively reached for her bag; the same bag she had left in her car.

“Oh, no. I left my keys at the hospital.”

Ben let out an exasperated groan, pressing his back against the wall. “Wanna break in?” he asked.

 “What?”

“If you really wanna get in, we can break a window.”

“I’m not breaking a window.”

“Why not?”

“Because then my house will be insecure.”

“And? Are planning on staying?”

“No. But what if I get burgled or something?”

Ben regarded her with a humoured frown. “Burgled? There are zombies on every corner. If any burglars are left, I doubt they’re thinking about your silverware.”

Amy matched his gaze, succumbing to his infectious smile. “I suppose. But at least break a back window.”

“Why? So the burglars don’t see?”

“No, so the zombies don’t. Smart arse.”

She led the way around the side of her house towards the back garden. It was there she met Norman Collins. Her neighbour stood with his back to the pair, swaying as he observed her withered plants in the flower bed. Amy gasped, staring at the man with wide eyes. The noise caught his attention. He turned, revealing a grotesque, disfigured face. A gooey crimson mess had replaced his tanned skin. His left eyebrow had been ripped away, giving him a peculiar stare. His lips had been torn off, exposing bared teeth that opened as he darted towards