The Church
A Zombie story- Part One
I awoke to the sounds of the birds singing in the apple garden, my eyes opened to the view of a cloudless sky with the bright beautiful sun shining all its glory down upon me. I felt so happy and content until slowly but forcibly my mind had fully awoken and reminded me of the reality.
During these summer months I now always slept on the roof, the roof of Saint Lukes Church, my home, it was my only escape, my only way of trying to forget the plague which had ascended, from Hell I guess, to virtually wipe out everything we had known.
It had started nearly 2 years ago I guess, time and calendars didn’t seem to mean much now, the dawn, dusk and the seasons were all that mattered, all that were important.
Before it all started I lived a couple of hundred yards away from the Church with my wife Pamela and our two dogs, the kids were grown up and left years before to start new lives abroad so it was nice to have time to ourselves and to do the things which we wanted to do. We were not church goers, we were believers but we didn’t feel any urge to attend, but saying that the Church of Saint Luke itself was an impressive building. The main body was built over two hundred years ago, surrounded by a ten foot wall on all sides with the total enclosed area about the size of a football pitch. I remember looking at the deeds of my house years before and seeing that the church was by far the biggest building in the area when it was built, designed to service all the local towns and villages. Since it was built it had slowly been surrounded by the expanding mass of London and was now in the heart of a typical middle class suburb.
It had begun with warnings on all of the television channels, a severe case of flu they said- "If you have any symptoms stay at home, don’t risk anyone else contracting it, don’t go to the doctors or to the hospital- call the emergency number below and they will come to you." Of course we were worried but as we were fairly healthy, maybe we smoked and drink a little too much but nothing drastic, we thought we would be ok, they will sort out a cure soon enough, surely they must?
By the next week there was Army patrols everywhere, all in full Anti-viral suits. They were blasting out a chilling message- "The City is in full lockdown, under no circumstances is anyone allowed on the streets, anyone who disobeys this will be shot on sight" This was the last throw of the dice to try and contain the threat, but they lost.
Within 3 months, this is guess work but by the last of the television/radio broadcasts and the words and stories of travelers which have passed by it seems right, over 90% of the worlds population was dead, and horrific as that was it was it only got worse. It seemed that once this virus had started to run out of non immune hosts it began to mutate- it started to look out and infect dead flesh. Somehow the energy from the virus re-animated the recently dead, turned them into mad raging beasts with an urge to kill so that the virus would have more hosts.
This is what happened to my beloved Pamela, only a few weeks after the first Newsflash she began to complain of headaches and her temperature rose. I tried calling the emergency numbers but all I got was a recorded message saying leave details and they would come for us. Within four hours of the first symptoms my dear love breathed her last breath, as I cried I wrapped her in a bedsheet, I didn’t know what else to do, what could I do, why would I ever want to do anything again?
That night I was unable to sleep, sitting there in the candlelight wishing the virus to come for me and take me to join her. The dogs started to growl and look up the staircase, I shouted at them to shut up but they just got worse and worse, they seemed to want to go up but a fear was stopping them then suddenly one, Tyler, rang up the staircase barking and growling. It went quiet soon after so I grabbed my torch and started up the stairs, I had no fear, my grief was too strong, I didn’t care what I would find. As I got to the top landing a figure was at the far end of the hallway, I swung up my torch and almost dropped it when the light shone on her face- "You're alive" I screamed, but almost instantly i could see it was not my love, in front of me was an abomination, it looked like her but was grey eyed, grey skinned but with bright red lips and teeth. In her hand was the head of my dog, with its flesh and blood dripping from her mouth. She dropped the meat in her hand and started towards me, I was frozen, not in fear I think but in shock, as it/she grabbed towards my neck I seemed to instinctively twist out of the way. This caused her to stumble, loose her footing and start tumbling down the stairs. Once she reached the bottom she never moved again, during the fall she had smashed her head several times and now her brains were oozing out of her ear. Looking back now I know I could never have delivered a blow to her to end her "life" so if the fall hadn’t killed her she would have surely finished me off.
Myself and twenty three others, over the space of a few days, had seeked sanctuary within the Church, dodging the ever decreasing patrols and the ever growing number of the walking dead. The Reverend McKay gladly took us all in, we soon got to work fortifying the Church compound, ditches around the walls, barbed wire atop of the walls, sentry posts and a large secure gate. We also started planting fruit and vegetables in the large grounds, we had no idea how long we would be here for.
Within about 2 miles of the church we must have had a few hundred houses but more importantly several shops including a large supermarket, a petrol station and just about every other shop you could think off.
So now as I stand on the roof able to see in the distance the home of plentiful food, seeds and tools, thinking of what rewards I may find, I then look down at the dozens of dead desperately trying to get to us. They are stretching up at me, trying to pluck me from the sky, groaning more and more with their failures.
I think about my dead wife, my missing children- are they still alive? Are they shamblimg around Australia like the monsters below?
Is this "Life"? Is it worth carrying on? Then I hear the sounds of the 7 children we have in the compound, they are running around downstairs, playing football, laughing and shouting. When was the last time I laughed?
My life may not be worth saving but the children certainly are, and I swear to do that until my last breath.
The Battle for Survival has begun.
During these summer months I now always slept on the roof, the roof of Saint Lukes Church, my home, it was my only escape, my only way of trying to forget the plague which had ascended, from Hell I guess, to virtually wipe out everything we had known.
It had started nearly 2 years ago I guess, time and calendars didn’t seem to mean much now, the dawn, dusk and the seasons were all that mattered, all that were important.
Before it all started I lived a couple of hundred yards away from the Church with my wife Pamela and our two dogs, the kids were grown up and left years before to start new lives abroad so it was nice to have time to ourselves and to do the things which we wanted to do. We were not church goers, we were believers but we didn’t feel any urge to attend, but saying that the Church of Saint Luke itself was an impressive building. The main body was built over two hundred years ago, surrounded by a ten foot wall on all sides with the total enclosed area about the size of a football pitch. I remember looking at the deeds of my house years before and seeing that the church was by far the biggest building in the area when it was built, designed to service all the local towns and villages. Since it was built it had slowly been surrounded by the expanding mass of London and was now in the heart of a typical middle class suburb.
It had begun with warnings on all of the television channels, a severe case of flu they said- "If you have any symptoms stay at home, don’t risk anyone else contracting it, don’t go to the doctors or to the hospital- call the emergency number below and they will come to you." Of course we were worried but as we were fairly healthy, maybe we smoked and drink a little too much but nothing drastic, we thought we would be ok, they will sort out a cure soon enough, surely they must?
By the next week there was Army patrols everywhere, all in full Anti-viral suits. They were blasting out a chilling message- "The City is in full lockdown, under no circumstances is anyone allowed on the streets, anyone who disobeys this will be shot on sight" This was the last throw of the dice to try and contain the threat, but they lost.
Within 3 months, this is guess work but by the last of the television/radio broadcasts and the words and stories of travelers which have passed by it seems right, over 90% of the worlds population was dead, and horrific as that was it was it only got worse. It seemed that once this virus had started to run out of non immune hosts it began to mutate- it started to look out and infect dead flesh. Somehow the energy from the virus re-animated the recently dead, turned them into mad raging beasts with an urge to kill so that the virus would have more hosts.
This is what happened to my beloved Pamela, only a few weeks after the first Newsflash she began to complain of headaches and her temperature rose. I tried calling the emergency numbers but all I got was a recorded message saying leave details and they would come for us. Within four hours of the first symptoms my dear love breathed her last breath, as I cried I wrapped her in a bedsheet, I didn’t know what else to do, what could I do, why would I ever want to do anything again?
That night I was unable to sleep, sitting there in the candlelight wishing the virus to come for me and take me to join her. The dogs started to growl and look up the staircase, I shouted at them to shut up but they just got worse and worse, they seemed to want to go up but a fear was stopping them then suddenly one, Tyler, rang up the staircase barking and growling. It went quiet soon after so I grabbed my torch and started up the stairs, I had no fear, my grief was too strong, I didn’t care what I would find. As I got to the top landing a figure was at the far end of the hallway, I swung up my torch and almost dropped it when the light shone on her face- "You're alive" I screamed, but almost instantly i could see it was not my love, in front of me was an abomination, it looked like her but was grey eyed, grey skinned but with bright red lips and teeth. In her hand was the head of my dog, with its flesh and blood dripping from her mouth. She dropped the meat in her hand and started towards me, I was frozen, not in fear I think but in shock, as it/she grabbed towards my neck I seemed to instinctively twist out of the way. This caused her to stumble, loose her footing and start tumbling down the stairs. Once she reached the bottom she never moved again, during the fall she had smashed her head several times and now her brains were oozing out of her ear. Looking back now I know I could never have delivered a blow to her to end her "life" so if the fall hadn’t killed her she would have surely finished me off.
Myself and twenty three others, over the space of a few days, had seeked sanctuary within the Church, dodging the ever decreasing patrols and the ever growing number of the walking dead. The Reverend McKay gladly took us all in, we soon got to work fortifying the Church compound, ditches around the walls, barbed wire atop of the walls, sentry posts and a large secure gate. We also started planting fruit and vegetables in the large grounds, we had no idea how long we would be here for.
Within about 2 miles of the church we must have had a few hundred houses but more importantly several shops including a large supermarket, a petrol station and just about every other shop you could think off.
So now as I stand on the roof able to see in the distance the home of plentiful food, seeds and tools, thinking of what rewards I may find, I then look down at the dozens of dead desperately trying to get to us. They are stretching up at me, trying to pluck me from the sky, groaning more and more with their failures.
I think about my dead wife, my missing children- are they still alive? Are they shamblimg around Australia like the monsters below?
Is this "Life"? Is it worth carrying on? Then I hear the sounds of the 7 children we have in the compound, they are running around downstairs, playing football, laughing and shouting. When was the last time I laughed?
My life may not be worth saving but the children certainly are, and I swear to do that until my last breath.
The Battle for Survival has begun.
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