You might think that another survivor would be a welcome sight but I sat there shaking, fingers digging into the steering wheel, staring at him in the mirror. Craig was yelling at me and jumping around in his seat. I barely heard him. All I could do was watch this dishevelled man hobble towards us. I began to think that I had imagined his voice, that maybe he was Infected. Then he waved and smiled. I burst out laughing.
The rest of this entry is Dev’s story. If I talk in his
words, it’s because some things are better told from his perspective. Also I’m
tired. It’s late, but this has to be written down.
Devesh is a corporal from the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, 2nd battalion. When the government decided to act he was sent to the outskirts of Manchester to set up one of the many roadblocks. I only saw the one myself, but he assures me they covered every single way out of the Greater Manchester area. Part of their duty included marshalling anybody trying to flee towards collection points for delivery to makeshift refugee camps. By the end of his second day orders had changed. Anybody displaying signs of illness were to be taken aside for delivery to a test centre for Infection. Those that looked clear would be taken to quarantine centres. At least that was what people were told if they asked.
The reports of the rioting were grim. Then more orders; turn people back. Warnings shots to be followed by live fire. That must have been when the curfew was introduced. Until then it was still considered civil disobedience. I assume the government had people studying Infection because rumours about it started to circulate. Paper face masks were handed out. The following day and night were quiet. Then the Infected came.
Emerging from their sickness, the Infected look little like normal people. Unkempt, dirty, delirious, angry and murderous. In the early stages anything can agitate them. Once it starts it needs an outlet. They explode with aggression towards whatever caught their attention.
A group appeared a hundred or so yards away from his roadblock. Four when they first noticed them. More followed. And that’s something we have both noticed about them, that they appear to be able to recognise other Infected and even travel in groups. Dev’s unit yelled at them over a loudspeaker. That got some of the Infected running at them, which made the rest surge. A warning shot was fired. Nothing.
Dev said that it is hard to ‘just’ shoot another human being, especially when they are unarmed. The Infected might look like berserkers but they are not a natural enemy. Not back then anyway. A second warning shot. Then orders to shoot just the first few, see if it would stop the rest. The first volley didn’t even stop the ones that were shot. Weapons were turned to full automatic and magazines were emptied. Two still managed to reach them and had to be dealt with up close and personal.
Why are they so hard to stop? A headshot works well. Enough damage to the torso will drop them too. Spinal damage will cripple them, and you can ruin their legs to simply stop them going anywhere.
Communicating the encounter to his superiors, it was apparent that this was happening everywhere. Having seen the pillar of smoke from the centre of Manchester I can only assume the Infected were being driven on by the flames. A first encounter is enough to shock anybody. Dev said that the second encounter was easier. The rest of the time anybody was shot as soon as they appeared.
That’s the first time he paused. He just looked down at his lap for a moment, sighed, and then explained. ‘Couldn’t spare the ammo. No more warnings. Just head shots.’
The next two days were more of the same. A steady stream of Infected. Sometimes a larger group, but mostly singles. During that time they had little communication with anybody. Then new orders: leave immediately, travel directly to Bradford to regroup and wait. Then Manchester was destroyed. That shook everybody. Once they were in Bradford, there were more soldiers to talk amongst. News spread fast. Infection was the cause. There was no cure. And you caught it as easily as a common cold.
Paranoia spread fast. Anybody with a cold or flu or that got sick was taken away for testing. Face masks were worn all the time. Rumours about new pockets of violence around the nation were rife. Nobody was allowed in or out of the country.
New orders. Protect the infrastructure. While that was true, what that really meant was that people who worked there had to stay there and keep the country running. Even at the point of a gun. Dev’s unit was redeployed to Cottam Power Station.
Physically it was an easy posting. Psychologically it was the worst of all. News was on a need to know basis, but still rumour managed to spread. Not knowing anything for certain made the rumours worse than the truth. Europe and the USA about to nuke the UK. The entire nation falling to Infection. The battle of London lost. A nation overrun.
The power demands of the station indicated that there were still people out there. So many substations had been lost though, so power was no longer reaching the majority. But none of that mattered, because people continued to get sick.
News arrived. London really had fallen. More Infected in London than anywhere. Bullets too limited, so new measures used. Flamethrowers and petrol- tankers just opened to flood the streets. Talk of tens of thousands of Infected burning and taking central London with them.
Dev was quiet for a long time after he spoke of London. I assume he had family or connections there. I haven’t asked yet. If he has any London story it will come out in his own time.
Back to the power station. Radio contact with control was lost. The sickness spread to the soldiers. That they had avoided it so long was a miracle. And somewhere they passed a point where they decided enough was enough. The staff had brought the station to a virtual halt. With no contact with the outside world, with no need to be in the station, people cracked. Dev decided to let everybody leave. The staff fled. The soldiers that wanted to go home could go. Three decided to go with Dev.
He took them north. They had also heard the rumours of emergency settlements. Four of them; Skye, Isle of Wight, Orkney and one more that he couldn’t remember the name of. Pretty much agreed with my own ideas. Still, just rumours.
Lack of fuel stopped them and they took a few jerry cans and set off to find more. Ended up in Thirsk. Low on ammunition and perhaps overconfident from never having faced them that close and in numbers, they were attacked as they were siphoning fuel. Shooting one quickly brought many more. Dev and one other managed to get into a house and out the back and lose the Infected following them. The other two soldiers must have fallen; Dev simply never mentioned them again.
With so many Infected roused, they decided to stay put. There was a little food in the house. The next day Dev’s comrade fell ill. After two days of getting worse, the soldier found enough household chemicals to make a cocktail he wouldn’t recover from. Dev waited two days to see if he could sneak back and get the jerry can. You can only run so fast with it though. He ditched it, left the road and went across country. He’d been dodging them ever since, working his way slowly back to the road and then north.
His limp? Apparently I did clip him with the car.
Devesh is a corporal from the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, 2nd battalion. When the government decided to act he was sent to the outskirts of Manchester to set up one of the many roadblocks. I only saw the one myself, but he assures me they covered every single way out of the Greater Manchester area. Part of their duty included marshalling anybody trying to flee towards collection points for delivery to makeshift refugee camps. By the end of his second day orders had changed. Anybody displaying signs of illness were to be taken aside for delivery to a test centre for Infection. Those that looked clear would be taken to quarantine centres. At least that was what people were told if they asked.
The reports of the rioting were grim. Then more orders; turn people back. Warnings shots to be followed by live fire. That must have been when the curfew was introduced. Until then it was still considered civil disobedience. I assume the government had people studying Infection because rumours about it started to circulate. Paper face masks were handed out. The following day and night were quiet. Then the Infected came.
Emerging from their sickness, the Infected look little like normal people. Unkempt, dirty, delirious, angry and murderous. In the early stages anything can agitate them. Once it starts it needs an outlet. They explode with aggression towards whatever caught their attention.
A group appeared a hundred or so yards away from his roadblock. Four when they first noticed them. More followed. And that’s something we have both noticed about them, that they appear to be able to recognise other Infected and even travel in groups. Dev’s unit yelled at them over a loudspeaker. That got some of the Infected running at them, which made the rest surge. A warning shot was fired. Nothing.
Dev said that it is hard to ‘just’ shoot another human being, especially when they are unarmed. The Infected might look like berserkers but they are not a natural enemy. Not back then anyway. A second warning shot. Then orders to shoot just the first few, see if it would stop the rest. The first volley didn’t even stop the ones that were shot. Weapons were turned to full automatic and magazines were emptied. Two still managed to reach them and had to be dealt with up close and personal.
Why are they so hard to stop? A headshot works well. Enough damage to the torso will drop them too. Spinal damage will cripple them, and you can ruin their legs to simply stop them going anywhere.
Communicating the encounter to his superiors, it was apparent that this was happening everywhere. Having seen the pillar of smoke from the centre of Manchester I can only assume the Infected were being driven on by the flames. A first encounter is enough to shock anybody. Dev said that the second encounter was easier. The rest of the time anybody was shot as soon as they appeared.
That’s the first time he paused. He just looked down at his lap for a moment, sighed, and then explained. ‘Couldn’t spare the ammo. No more warnings. Just head shots.’
The next two days were more of the same. A steady stream of Infected. Sometimes a larger group, but mostly singles. During that time they had little communication with anybody. Then new orders: leave immediately, travel directly to Bradford to regroup and wait. Then Manchester was destroyed. That shook everybody. Once they were in Bradford, there were more soldiers to talk amongst. News spread fast. Infection was the cause. There was no cure. And you caught it as easily as a common cold.
Paranoia spread fast. Anybody with a cold or flu or that got sick was taken away for testing. Face masks were worn all the time. Rumours about new pockets of violence around the nation were rife. Nobody was allowed in or out of the country.
New orders. Protect the infrastructure. While that was true, what that really meant was that people who worked there had to stay there and keep the country running. Even at the point of a gun. Dev’s unit was redeployed to Cottam Power Station.
Physically it was an easy posting. Psychologically it was the worst of all. News was on a need to know basis, but still rumour managed to spread. Not knowing anything for certain made the rumours worse than the truth. Europe and the USA about to nuke the UK. The entire nation falling to Infection. The battle of London lost. A nation overrun.
The power demands of the station indicated that there were still people out there. So many substations had been lost though, so power was no longer reaching the majority. But none of that mattered, because people continued to get sick.
News arrived. London really had fallen. More Infected in London than anywhere. Bullets too limited, so new measures used. Flamethrowers and petrol- tankers just opened to flood the streets. Talk of tens of thousands of Infected burning and taking central London with them.
Dev was quiet for a long time after he spoke of London. I assume he had family or connections there. I haven’t asked yet. If he has any London story it will come out in his own time.
Back to the power station. Radio contact with control was lost. The sickness spread to the soldiers. That they had avoided it so long was a miracle. And somewhere they passed a point where they decided enough was enough. The staff had brought the station to a virtual halt. With no contact with the outside world, with no need to be in the station, people cracked. Dev decided to let everybody leave. The staff fled. The soldiers that wanted to go home could go. Three decided to go with Dev.
He took them north. They had also heard the rumours of emergency settlements. Four of them; Skye, Isle of Wight, Orkney and one more that he couldn’t remember the name of. Pretty much agreed with my own ideas. Still, just rumours.
Lack of fuel stopped them and they took a few jerry cans and set off to find more. Ended up in Thirsk. Low on ammunition and perhaps overconfident from never having faced them that close and in numbers, they were attacked as they were siphoning fuel. Shooting one quickly brought many more. Dev and one other managed to get into a house and out the back and lose the Infected following them. The other two soldiers must have fallen; Dev simply never mentioned them again.
With so many Infected roused, they decided to stay put. There was a little food in the house. The next day Dev’s comrade fell ill. After two days of getting worse, the soldier found enough household chemicals to make a cocktail he wouldn’t recover from. Dev waited two days to see if he could sneak back and get the jerry can. You can only run so fast with it though. He ditched it, left the road and went across country. He’d been dodging them ever since, working his way slowly back to the road and then north.
His limp? Apparently I did clip him with the car.
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