Among the Fallen: Resurrection (16 page)

It didn’t really take an expert to work out what had happened here, it was a clean-up operation where the people where simply put to death and their bodies destroyed; but what had they caught?

To her knowledge, all strains of viral illnesses and diseases were curable, but then again; she was no expert. She turned away from the square and walked solemnly into Majors Street. A vast street where most shops were more of a modern nature, DVD rentals, Electrical stores, shops of all kinds lit up with neon and printed posters advertising their deals. Bodies of looters and rioters laid all over road and paths, clutching items they had stolen and grabbed.

Soldiers hung from the scaffolding and bridges by chains, razor wire and even their own intestines.

There were bodies with their rib cages missing and empty, heads gone and limbs that looked like they had been dragged away through the blood smeared streets but ended up as mere bones. Alex walked up to what appeared to be part of a forearm and knelt down, covering her mouth and waving away the flies. Huge pieces of flesh were missing through what appeared to be bites? She stood up and gazed down the corpse besieged road at the carnage. It appeared there were three types of body, a shot executed kind; the bodies that appeared to be ripped to pieces and the kind that were hanging or arranged in some kind of sick manner of decoration. She stepped over bodies, wreckage and limbs as she roamed through the streets towards Owen Bridge that crossed the circular river and led into Naccoon Lake, a tourist hotspot to the outsiders. It was lit with lamps and proud with gothic architecture and was one of the many ways into the heart of Blackwater.

She slowly made her way onto the bridge and stood looking over the city, the air seemed more foul here than anywhere else, yet the bridge itself had very little on it and that included the bodies of the dead. She took a few sniffs of the air and but couldn’t quite work out why it smelt so bad. She sighed and walked to the edge of the bridge and placed her hands on the iron railings and just stared out bleakly into the distance. Suddenly, the smell of rotting flesh got a lot stronger and she grabbed her face in pathetic effort to shield herself from the fetid stench. Looking down over the bridge, she suddenly gagged, vomiting to the floor and wrenching uncontrollably; her eyes streaming in agony as she slowly took a second, more careful look over the bridge. Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies and ruined boats floated down the river, decaying and rotten; the water hidden by the dark and blackness. She watched haunted and beleaguered as the river of the dead and wreckage slowly passed underneath, the dark mess of derelict boats and tortured faces drifting into the light of the bridge as masts swayed and crunched against the roof. As the taller wreckage built up on the other side, Alex slowly stepped away from the railing, glaring out over the horizon and frozen in fear and upsetting shock. Suddenly, she came to her senses, running over the bridge to the other side, her heart in her stomach and hands clutching her face. How much pain and suffering can one person take? How much can they be expected to take? As she realized that prospect of every new street, every turning and new avenue before her would lead to seeing something deeply upsetting and frightening; she started to beg with herself to let go of her emotions, drop the person that she was, and just try and ignore the world around her.

As Alex walked, more and more bodies were revealed, insane sculptures made with limbs and heads, children decaying in their mother’s arms and the fathers rotting in puddles of dried encrusted blood.

Alex shut her eyes and ran into a residential street, crying and weeping as she passed burning buildings, abandoned tricycles, playpens, paddling pools and cars that were burnt out and despoiled, entombing their drivers.

The suburban streets smoked and cindered, their mail boxes revealing the names of the dead like twisted mementos and tombstones. She ran up a path and into a house, someone’s home; abandoned yet tidy. No sign of life, but there were certainly signs of it being lived in at one point, little tell-tale signs of a happy home. She walked through the hall into the living room and looked around as the red light poured through the windows, casting the surfaces in a strange and surreal crimson glow.

Alex gazed around the room for a few moments, swiftly picking up a cushion from the sofa, nothing special nor even out of place; it was just one of those mad moments you have when you can’t really work out what to do with yourself. She hugged the cushion tightly to her chest as she thought over the feelings that continued to haunt her, her eyes blinking erratically as shock crawled under her white decaying skin. She threw the cushion to the floor and flopped down on the sofa, just staring across the room and out of the window into the street, silent and confused; tortured but strangely calm.

The room was still and she sat frozen as an old clock ticked away, the sound of dogs howling and crows squawking breaking up the silence from outside. Her eyes were still and gazing into nothingness, her mind slowly catching up on itself, the demonic art from the streets was slowly becoming a memory that had overstayed its welcome. She warily looked either side of herself inquisitively; magazines, a TV remote one side and a bundle of folded clothes on the other. She grabbed a sweater from the pile and stood up as she slipped it on; hooded sporty attire that obviously belonged to a man three or four times her size. The man, whoever he was, was definitely a sausage and mash eater for breakfast type of guy; but it was baggy, cosy and warm, and that was good enough for her as she climbed back onto the sofa, ruining it with bloody footprints and pulling the sweater over her legs. As her body started to warm she just relaxed on edge, staring into space as she rocked gently, her toes buried cosily into the soft fabric seat cushions. Alex sat as she warmed through, pulling the hood over her head and waited, mumbling and swaying as the clock ticked her life away relentlessly.

Her mind started to slowly readjust, not cure itself from the horrors outside but more like a forced acceptance of the situation, accepting that something not only evil had hit this city, but something she couldn’t do anything about. Suddenly, the old pendulum clock chimed a few times, making Alex abruptly aware of time and its persistent hypnotic ticking; she listened as she tried to work out whether it annoyed her or simply comforted her with a false sense of warmth, maybe both? Maybe it was just the fact that here in this twisted city, something was working and not covered in blood; something was right and exactly where it should be. But as she rocked backwards and forwards that infernal ticking also reminded her of her given time limit, something that vanished moment by moment and tick by tick; but at this particular moment, right this second; she couldn’t give a toss because this little, if short lived rest; was something she so desperately needed as she processed the all the images she had been forced to see.

She watched the dust glide through the beams of red light, bringing a haze of slight ambience to the quiet and peaceful room that felt almost uncomfortable. Alex looked at her reflection in the dormant television for a few seconds then frowned suddenly. She leant down beside the sofa and pulled the TV remote from the table and switched on the TV, sitting and waiting patiently as she crossed her legs pulling the sweater over her cold feet. She scanned through the blank channels until eventually she came to one that was still broadcasting, a strange and rather obscure looping animation, voiced by some random actor that had an equally pessimistic deep voice as if he was portraying death itself.

News Program Emergency Broadcast. Residential House - Bluebell Avenue.

Voiceover on TV:
“This is an Emergency Broadcast as cleared by the Health and Safety governing
bodies in association with the Beaumont Corporation. The Beaumont Corporation is currently
working on a cure to the Epidemic and is warning people not to panic! Here’s advice on how to
protect your family during the Blackwater Quarantine.

One - DON’T PANIC! Panicking WILL result in your family panicking also and could lead to further
situations and crisis. LEAD BY EXAMPLE!

Two - STAY INSIDE! If any of your family is infected, the best course of action is to leave them outside
or restrain them in a room furthest away from your main room of location. If you venture outside
you risk CONTAMINATION!

Three - AWAIT HELP! Specially trained Doctors and Military will take away the infected for
application of a cure. Let these people do their job as it could result in your arrest or worse. Your
safety is OUR concern. Family members WILL be returned once clear of any infection.

Four - EXPECT VIOLENCE FROM THE INFECTED! The infected will attack YOU! They can’t be reasoned
with, talked to or controlled. LEAVE THEM OUTSIDE FOR COLLECTION OR LOCK THEM IN AN UNUSED

ROOM UNTIL COLLECTION!

Five - REMAIN CALM UNTIL CLEARED! When the infection control crews arrive, remain calm and
follow their instructions to the letter. HELP IS ON its WAY!

This is an Emergency Broadcast as cleared by the Health and Safety governing bodies in association
with the Beaumont Corporation. The Beaumont Corporation is…”

Alex switched off the TV and walked towards the main window and glared over the drive into the silent neighbourhood. There she stood for a few minutes, just looking at the toy littered drive, rubbish blowing in the wind and lone corpse that just lay decomposing on the front lawn. The broadcast was well out of date, the advice given in the current state of humanity was just a waste of time when compared to people’s morality towards their family members. But maybe the military had in fact picked up the infected and left the dead on the streets, but to what purpose? Surly they should have cleaned up all traces to prevent further infection? Alex walked away from the window and went to the front door, hiding away in the house would not get the job done, but it did give her some time to think about the situation. Suddenly, she heard the banging of footsteps from upstairs and she jumped in fright.

“Hello?!’ she called out fearfully.

A survivor? She closed the front door and walked to the stairs placing a foot on the bottom step and holding the banister. “Hello?! Anyone up there?!” she shouted. She waited a few moments but heard nothing. Slowly, she crept up the stairs and peered onto the landing, her eyes flickering and adjusting to the darkness.

Was she hearing things?

She looked over towards the bathroom, its door wide open and the shower dripped continuously, echoing around the upstairs hallway. As each drip fell, passing with a moment in time, Alex simply waited with a strange and bizarre feeling in her stomach, a feeling like she knew or felt something was here; she felt it in her stomach as if by instinct or hunch, yet it was such a greater, overwhelming feeling, like an extra sense perhaps. As the time passed by and the silence dragged itself out longer and longer, she grew more and more suspicious; yet she felt that her time was being wasted, toyed with almost. She turned to go back down the stairs but suddenly there was a long winded groan, almost inhuman sounding but she undeniably heard it. Slowly and cautiously, she crept across the landing and grasped the door handle from where the groan came, leaning in towards the door, she gently placed her ear on the door listening for noise from within. She waited and waited, but heard nothing. Suddenly, BANG BANG BANG; as if someone thumped the door on the other side, deafening her as she fell away shocked and petrified, her breathing out of control as she sat in fear, looking up at the door as it remained cold, closed and silent.

She stood to her feet and grasped the handle once again, but this time she pushed down on the handle and threw the door open. All of a sudden the air was filled with flies and Alex just froze as the familiar smell of decay hit her face like a ghastly brick wall, her eyes streaming and her throat gagging as the sight of a badly decomposed couple laid cuddling in bed, their bodies stuck to the sheets and their skin dried up and peeled away from their eye sockets and mouth. Alex turned away and grasped the banister, hunched over and heaving as the flies flew merrily over the unfortunate couple, crawling over their thin leather-like skin and eating at their hearts content.

Turning away, she stumbled back down the stairs and ran out into the street, panting and puffing as she got back her breath and regained her posture. As the wind blew around her she stood looking at a bicycle as its wheel slowly turned, its frame covered in blood and a lone sneaker sat beside it, ownerless and stained; its laces sprawled out almost dead like. She glanced around the silent suburban nightmare almost grieving the people she had neither met or knew, the torment of strangers being almost as heart-breaking as the misery of friends, yet this ghostly and corrupt city was filled to the brim with every kind of pain imaginable and those she could not even come close to dreaming of.

Alex walked away from the street and across the main road back into the main high street and into decay filled shopping area. Suddenly, she heard a creak and the clutter of rubble. She turned and her eyes were suddenly drawn to building across the road. Buried in the side of the office block on the second floor sat a car, rocking gently in the wind. She scanned the street thinking it was peculiar that all the other cars were grounded, even if they were smashed up beyond repair, but why one car? Was it thrown? The car suddenly keeled over and dropped into the street as the floor collapsed bringing down with it most of the building. It crashed to the ground in a symphony of twisted metal and concrete as a huge fog of dust and plaster was blown down the street towards her and she coughed violently as it swept past her. She looked around cautiously then approached the car, its upturned and smoking underside creaked as a wheel at the front turned slowly. As the dust settled, she looked up as files and paper fell into the street like leaves, smoke spilling into the air and the burning smell of rubber gave her a temporary break from the decaying flesh stench. She knelt down and peered inside the car. There was a body, rotten and strapped to her seat with barbed wire, she was holding something; a piece of paper?