Fragments of Dawn.

(7th March 2011)

It had been a long time since Andy had held an assault rifle in his hands. He was a different person back then, a young man. The world was a different place then. Things, to some extent, were simpler. There was a little less control over the individuals’ life. But now things had shifted again. The world, his world at least, was going through a fundamental change.

It was almost 24 hours since he'd fled from his home. The image of his 4 year old son, still playing over and over in his head. There he lay, his small body on the front lawn of his home, torn open like a gutted fish. His wife lay not far away, she was being eaten. His two other children, son and daughter, lay together, also torn open. Andy was too late. He'd tried to get home in time, but traffic and panicking people meant he had to go on foot. He couldn't make sense of what was happening.

He'd seen war. It was an animal he knew well. But this, this was something entirely different! He hadn't had time to sit and observe what was going on like he'd liked to have. He had been moving fast, trying to get home. But it had been all for nothing. Too late, too damn late!

One of the demented 'things' noticed him standing there, in shock; it left his wife and lunged for him. Survival mode kicked in, his training kicked in, his natural instincts kicked in. He ran. He jumped over fences, ran through houses. He ran and ran and ran. They could run too! Lucky for him he was fit. Something which couldn't be said for most of the locals. They fell easily, he didn't have time to help, couldn't see the point really; they'd only slow him down. It was awful.

He was thirsty. So thirsty, he must have been running for about two and a half hours on and off. Time to rest-up. At least for a little while. He ran into a small house. Quite different from most in the neighborhood. This one was brand new and ultra modern. Once inside he shut the open door behind him. Two smells hit him immediately. The smell of newness, fresh paint, carpet etc, and, the smell of an open human body. He hadn't seen it yet. It was a smell that one never forgot. Blown open, torn open, it made no difference.

Clear the house! That was what he needed to do. He moved from the front door into what must have been the main lounge room. There it was, or probably more accurately, there she was. At least he could tell that much. Her head was gone, as was half of her rib cage. She was naked. He couldn't help staring at her pubic hair. Shaved in the shape of a love heart. 'That must have been difficult to do' he absently thought to himself.

What a contrast he thought. Young, well off city girl with all the mod cons, shaved, plucked, waxed and no doubt was once quite beautiful, laying dead in her new lounge room, torn apart, gone, finished. What a waste. What was the point of it all? He didn't have time to contemplate it. He checked the rest of the rooms. All clear. Then to the fridge. Two jugs of fresh cool water were in it. He grabbed one and a glass, sat down and slowly drank. Guzzling it would have done him no good. Only filled his belly leaving him slow and uncomfortable. Death, in a situation like this!

His T-shirt was stuck to his skin. Sweat was poring off him in a torrent of drips. Re-hydrate, that was the priority. He couldn't risk getting a headache. That too would slow him down and make him vulnerable. He found some salt and pored a little into his glass of water. Then he scoured the kitchen for some chocolate. He hit gold! Mars bars! Perfect! He greedily ate one down, and then stashed the other two in his jeans pocket. That was enough, he didn't want to slow himself down with an over full stomach.

Now, where next? He'd found that he'd run himself into an unfamiliar neighborhood. He needed some height. Looking through the front bedroom window he could see some two story houses a couple of streets away. That would be his target. He cautiously opened the front door. All clear. He ran slowly over to a bunch of small bushes near the end of the street, crouched down. Scanned three hundred and sixty degrees around him. All clear. He ran, fast this time, to a low brick fence and crouched down. As he looked around the corner he was confronted with an odd scene. It was a hastily constructed Police roadblock. Two patrol cars. Dead lay all around. All the Police were dead. It looked like some sort of a last stand had been decided upon. But out in the open like this! Stupid!

Andy slowly made his way over to it. Checking over his shoulder frequently as he did so. They'd had some pretty good firepower too. Assault rifles, German he thought, and 9 mil automatic pistols. Quickly he grabbed an assault vest off one of the bodies. Put it on and loaded magazines from the other bodies for the assault rifles into it, slung one of the assault rifles over his body, grabbed the second. Grabbed the gun belt off another corpse and found two other pistols and their ammunition. He took out the magazine of the assault rifle, loaded in a full one, cocked the weapon and put it on safe. All this firepower weighed him down a bit, but firepower seemed like a good option for many reasons.

Quickly surveying the seen before him he noticed head shots seemed to have stopped them. Not too many rounds had been fired however. He counted sixteen shell casings. They must have come from all directions, and fast. He imagined the Police wouldn't have had anything like the training he'd had. Why would they. Who could prepare for this anyway?

As he left the scene of carnage he noted the added weight of the guns and ammunition. He wouldn't be able to go as far or as fast like this. He was tired. It was 2:36 PM he noted with a quick glance at his watch. Time to pick somewhere to lay-up for the night. He spotted a group of two story brick houses; they must have been the ones he'd seen from the house with the dead girl in it. He ran into one. Gun aimed, safety off, finger on trigger.

Again he cleared the rooms. No bodies here. No smell. He carefully shut and locked the front door. Looking out of one of the front rooms he saw one of the 'things' walking past. It was a woman, or, was a woman. It seemed aimless. Not knowing where to go. It stopped. Looked around, then walked off in a daze. With it out of sight he went upstairs to look out the back bedroom windows. He could see smoke in the distance. Several fires must have broken out. What was going on?

Andy walked down the stairs and into what must have been the main lounge room. He looked for and found the TV remote, managed to turn on the TV and scanned through the channels. Most were static, but the BBC seemed to have a repeated warning message playing. The guy seemed panicked, not the casual well groomed professional one would normally see. He spoke of finding shelter and that the dead were coming back to life. Andy would have laughed at this thinking it was some kind of sick joke had he not witnessed it for himself. The message repeated itself. He guessed the staff must now be all dead. The only other channels were a test pattern and the view of a room with no people in it? Odd, he thought.

Andy scouted around for a radio, found one in the kitchen. Turning the dial desperately searching for something, anything. He did come across some excited chatter on one station, couldn't work out what the language was though, they sounded hysterical, desperate. Then found a station that was obviously French. He knew a little French, but hadn't spoken it in many a year. There was something about a rescue boat off the coast of London? Something about there being too many....... ? He couldn't work it out. The voice, a male voice, sounded calm though. That was something he supposed. Then, goodbye and good luck!

So, some people had survived this, whatever it was? Andy thought about the Channel Tunnel. Surely that would be a gateway to France for those things? How far had it spread, where had it come from? Too many questions. No answers. All he knew was that his wife and kids were gone. But he wasn't. His body was starting to cool down now. It would soon be dark. Best secure the house as best he could. He pushed a lounge in front of the main door, a table in front of the back door. If he had to make a last stand it would best be upstairs. If they got into the house there wouldn't be much point in him running. He was in an unfamiliar neighborhood, on his own, in the dark, there wouldn’t be much hope.

Best to stay quiet, out of site and wait until morning. Andy was starting to get quite hungry now. He thought it best not to cook anything in case the smell brought the things to the house. What did attract them anyway? Sight, smell, sound. But what else? Did they have any other instinctual motivations? Maybe, if he survived the night, he'd be able to observe them tomorrow morning?

The kitchen was well stocked. Going off the photos around the house it belonged to a family of four. Mum, dad and two young boys. He found himself some tuna, some cheese and bread. Made himself a sandwich, put it on a plate, grabbed some juice and filled some empty plastic bottles up with water. He did it slowly so as not to attract attention with the noise of water running fast through the pipes. He checked the windows frequently. Did they operate in packs, or just random lunacy?

Andy made two trips up the stairs and back; ferrying food and water for him for the night. Plus empty plastic bottles to piss in. He'd managed to find a small empty rucksack in one of the boy’s bedrooms and filled it with water bottles, nuts, chocolate, tins of tuna and raisins. If he had to move he would no doubt need to do it fast and quietly. He packed all the food and water into the rucksack and padded it all down with a lightweight jacket and a maroon jumper he'd found. The dad, husband, of the house, must have been larger than Andy, but judging by the photos, fat with a large beer gut. No doubt what became of him Andy surmised with a smirk.

Walking back down the corridor Andy noticed a manhole in the ceiling with some sort of locking mechanism on it. Then he remembered something he'd seen on a house hunting show where there was a room in the roof of the house accessible via a set of foldable stairs that tucked-up in the roof. He looked around in the hallway cupboards and it wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. A pole, with a hook on the end. He reached up, hooked the locking mechanism, and the door swung down with the stairs folding out simultaneously.

Andy was impressed. It was a neat idea. Slowly he made his way up the ladder into the roof cavity of the house. This must have been where the other son had his bedroom. Pretty well decked out, with all the teenage mod cons. TV, computer, games stations and stereo. Only a small skylight though for light. Andy thought it would make the perfect room to hold up in for the night. If he did happen to drift off into a deep sleep at least the things would have to have made a lot of noise to get upstairs and into the hallway above which he would be. That may give him an advantage and could save him outright depending on how smart these things were, something he'd yet to determine. So far, from what he'd seen, they seemed to go on basic instinct. Catch, kill and eat. Though some of the eaten seemed to come back to life? Strange. Anyway he had some things to prepare before nightfall. Andy got all of his supplies up the ladder into the loft, found a torch and made his way through the house one last time to double check the windows and doors and put items in pathways so that if something did get into the house these things would be knocked over, making noise and hopefully waking him up if he did manage to drift off.

Andy ate, drank and prepared himself for the night. It was almost dark outside now. The skylight offered him very little by way of vision down to street level, though he could see off in the distance. Heavy smoke was very visible. Within twenty minutes it was pitch black. No street lights were on where he was although he could see lights off in the distance and the odd light here and there amongst the local neighborhood. Dogs could be heard barking. Some whimpered obviously worried for their owners. Occasionally he heard the sound of an animal in pain. Were they being eaten too? Andy couldn’t believe how calm he was. He was a little frightened, but quite frankly not too much. Basically he didn’t care. All that he lived for was now gone. He was staying alive purely out of curiosity. What was this all about? Was it a Government experiment that had gone wrong? Was it a chemical attack of some sort? The Police certainly had no idea what was happening and it seemed to be affecting continental Europe as well.

With nothing left to do Andy lay on the bed. He kept his runners on and stayed fully clothed. If he had to make a run for it he most certainly wouldn’t have time to do much else but leg it. The pack lay by his feet. The pistol belt lay over it, as did the spare assault rifle and assault vest. The other rifle was by his side. It was going to be a long night.

It was difficult finding a comfortable spot on this foreign bed. It was even more difficult to switch off his mind. Images of his family, the other bodies and in particular his youngest son kept running through his minds vision like a non stop horror movie. He tried to think of other things, but it was impossible. Several times he thought of pulling the trigger and ending it all. But no. Not yet. Soon, but not just yet.

(14th March 2011)

Dawn came, but Andy wasn’t aware. His worn out body and mind had eventually shut down allowing him to sleep. There were no dreams, no nightmares. He had slept soundly for seven hours. It was his bladder that eventually woke him. Andy opened his eyes. He remembered instantly where he was. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up. Once standing he grabbed one of the empty plastic bottles and urinated in it. Once finished he screwed the lid back on tightly. Smell? How acute was their smell, he wondered? The inside of his mouth tasted like an old sardine can, his breath stank. He was hungry, but otherwise OK.

He grabbed one of the Mars bars and a packet of sultanas as he moved to the skylight. There was still a heavy layer of smoke on the horizon. Everything seemed calm however. He did notice the occasional bird chirping, otherwise it was silent. Andy quickly finished the mars bar then downed half of the small packet of sultanas and washed it all down with some bottled water. Time to head downstairs and get a better look around.

Donning his pistol belt, pack and spare rifle Andy slowly walked over to the manhole. He carefully unlocked it and let it slide down. Nothing was looking back up at him. That was a good sign, he thought sarcastically to himself. He quickly made his way down then moved into the master bedroom. This room afforded him a good view of the back of the house and the adjoining neighborhood. All clear. He then cautiously made his way down the stairs, weapon at the ready, safety off, finger on the trigger, careful to avoid the items he’d set in place to alert him of others in the house.

Moving to the front rooms revealed much the same. No movement, no noises. Now, to plan his next move. First, some cereal. Corn Flakes were on offer this morning. He made sure to pore himself a generous bowl full. Power was still on so the milk was cold and still useable. With breakfast in hand he made his way over to the lounge and pressed the ‘on’ button on the TV remote. Flicking through the channels revealed what he had seen the previous night. With Corn Flakes finished Andy got up, went over to the pack and rummaged around for the small portable radio. Apart from the occasional message in foreign languages he discovered a very faint signal of a man explaining his plight. He was Scottish, he sounded elderly but it was difficult to tell for sure, so weak was the signal. He was explaining that he was alright and that he was held-up in a secure location and had enough supplies to last him six or seven weeks. Andy sat at the kitchen bench and listened intently to the man as he made himself some marmalade toast.

So, there are indeed others alive! He thought as much. Interesting. Now, where to go? Andy thought the best way to travel was to go cross country. He would head in the general direction of London and basically make it up as he went along. What else could he do? No one to talk to, nobody to contact. Just himself, his misery and his curiosity. Andy packed the radio, scoured some more tins of food and readied himself for the trip. But first, the call of nature!

He must have looked a sight! There he was, sat on the toilet, G36 assault rifle across his legs, writing notes to himself on a small notepad he’d found. He wouldn’t exactly be well camouflaged for the trip, what with his blue jeans and blue checked shirt and dirty white trainers! Once he’d finished and cleaned himself up Andy went rummaging through the wardrobes. He managed to find a brown shirt which was a few sizes too big for him, but that suited him well, and the other good thing was a dark brown skirt! Now Andy knew he wouldn’t be in the running for any fashion awards, but with the skirt suitably ripped up the sides and the baggy brown shirt it would at least give him some camouflage during his cross country maneuvers. Andy also discovered a dark green, tan and black spotted dress that he tore up for a bandanna.

Kitted-up Andy looked himself in the bathroom mirror. It would do. He would darken his hands, neck and face once outside using a bit of water and dirt. ‘Just like old times!’ he thought. Sure that he was set to go he spent a bit of time checking the street up and down from the front windows. OK, now or never! Andy carefully opened the front door, crouched down and crab walked over to the front hedge. There he pored a little water onto the soil and made a slurry of thick mud which he then applied to the back of his neck, ears, face and hands. At least he’d blend in better amongst the vegetation like this. If it was harder for them to see him it may just give him the advantage he needed to stay alive a little longer. It certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Gingerly Andy made his way down the street, ducking into front yards, bushes and hedges as he went, always making sure to check all around him as he went. He had nobody checking his six this time, this time he was well and truly on his own. Getting to the end of the street he spotted two of them about 80 meters away. As before, they seemed aimless, almost like they were on autopilot with nowhere to go. Andy wished he had a silencer! He could have topped them no issue. No, fuck it! Andy wasn’t in a good mood this morning he was going to do it anyway. After all it’ll be fun to see what happens next!

Supporting himself against an old low brick fence he took the weapon off safety, lined up the one on the left, breathed in, slowly out, stop, squeeze…..

BANG!

The morning’s silence was shattered by the sound of the bullet. It hit the thing just below the base of the neck, sending it flying backwards and to the ground. The other one was trying to assess the source of the noise…….

BANG!

This time its head exploded and dropped where it stood. Now Andy had a better idea of where to aim. The G36 was very accurate and happy about that he was!

Now Andy was standing, weapon held below his chin ready to bring up for a sighted kill. He looked back at the two he’d just shot, neither were moving. That at least was a good sign.

Running! Andy could hear running! ‘Oh shit!’ How many? There, one, two, five, eight. Eight of them all running like they were in a marathon! “Holy fuck!”

Nine rounds later they were all nothing more than slushies on the road. OK, time to fuck off! Andy rounded the corner in a run and headed for the open ground at the end of the road. Every 20 meters he’s slow, stop, turn and asses the situation. Good, nothing was following. After getting a good 50 meters into the forest he quickly set himself up in a hasty ambush position.

‘Eleven rounds fired, nineteen left in this mag’. Andy made a mental note.

‘Could they track like dogs?’ He’d find out soon enough!

Andy had always had a close affinity for nature. Life had taken him in many different directions, some his own choice, some made for him. To help cope with the various stresses that life had presented him, Andy had always turned to the wonders of nature as a way of coping. He’d sit and watch ants getting on with their busy day gathering items of food for their nest, sometimes carrying items many times their size and through quite difficult terrain. He always admired the ant. It never got the attention of whales or dolphins. But there they were, every day, just getting on with it.

A rabbit hopped by. Andy paid particular attention to it. Looking through the scope of the G36 assault rifle. Looking for signs of infection or any change in appearance. Nothing. It looked like a perfectly normal everyday rabbit. Had this only affected humans? If so, how many? How far? Was it global? He’d heard no aircraft so far, neither commercial nor military.

The day looked like it was going to be nice weather wise. Clear, except for the smoke and not too cold. He did notice some odd looking cloud way off to the Northwest.

After half an hour of nothing Andy decided to move on. Before heading off Andy carefully applied some local foliage to his body, pack and weapon, being sure so as not to obstruct its optics or functionality. A quick drink and some more sultanas and he was moving again. Every four or five meters he’d turn slowly and check where he’d just come from, habit. The ground was soft; he was able to move at a reasonable pace without compromising noise. A careless foot fall causing a small branch to snap may well alert others, both human and ‘other’ to his whereabouts, something he didn’t want. If he was to meet-up with other people he wanted to try and do it on his terms. A hysterical mother or a pub idiot would be a quick ticket to the grave in this current situation. If others had survived he hoped they were smart ones, though life was never that kind, so he’d learnt.

Faintly, way off in the distance he could hear a vehicle moving at speed. The occasional squeal of tires being put under too much stress. A calculated risk Andy thought. Turning a corner, at high speed, unfamiliar neighborhood, unprepared for cars strewn all over the place from the initial panic. The outcome was quite predictable. Being eaten alive whilst being trapped in a car wreck didn’t appeal to him, although the driver of that car seemed to be doing alright. ‘Good luck!’

Suddenly birds were flying off in all different directions! Startled by something. Andy hit the deck, crawled sideways into some ferns. Then he saw it! It was one of those ‘things’. This one was in a hell of a state. It had lost all of its clothes and its intestines were hanging out, occasionally getting tangled in its legs. Andy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It literally grabbed a handful of its own intestines and pulled vigorously until the whole lot dropped out of the body cavity onto the ground, then it kept running! ‘You’ve GOT to be fucking kidding me!’ Andy thought.

Standing up Andy watched it until it was out of sight. It fell over several times, but just got back up and kept going. It stank to high heaven; even from twenty meters away he could quite clearly smell its stench. He’d seen a lot of drunken people heading home on a Sunday morning in a similar state. This thought brought a wry smile to his face. How fucking surreal was all this!

Andy decided not to head in the direction it had just come from. Instead he veered off to the left to where he could see the trees were thinning out. It would give him an opportunity to scope ahead but still stay in cover.

Leaning against a tree, using the rifle’s scope, Andy checked out the terrain up ahead. Some farm land. Sparse housing. Trees and bushes for cover, but a lot more open than where he was. If not for the birds Andy may well have come face to face with Mr Gutless! More open ground would afford him some warning space if there were any more about. It would mean he would have to move more carefully and pick his route specifically.

Looking at his watch he realised why his stomach was complaining. It was lunchtime!