Chapter 12
Hello, I’m Jenna Sharp, here with your latest Apocalypse news. So, what’s new today?
Well, first of all, there’s the headline on everyone’s lips: There’s a Cure!
Let’s get into more detail, with Patrick Miller, who’s on the scene of the place where, rumour has it, they’ve got a cure for the ‘Zombie Virus’. Patrick, what’s going on down there?
We all watched, with bated breath, as the News Report switched screens, to an old building, where three people were huddled around a table. As ‘Patrick Miller’ started to ask them questions, they moved away from it, letting the camera catch a glimpse of a glass test tube, filled with purple-black liquid.
They were talking about taking the nuclear waste and doing all sorts of things with it, taking the source of the problem and using it to make a cure, like in anti-venom for snakes.
They had one problem, however; nobody wanted to try it, and with good reason. And, as it didn’t work on fully turned Zombies, their theory that it would only work within two or three minutes of being bitten was very weak, and their other theory of it being used to prevent the bite affecting people was even less supported.
And, as we all looked at one another, I knew that we were all thinking the same thing. No one was going to try that in a million years. They’d rather die fighting than die as a guinea pig, and dying was almost in the job description, if you get what I mean.
So, it was with weary hearts that we returned to our work. But, two days later, Courtney was still curious, hanging onto every last word that the Z-News had to offer on the subject, as well as Survivor FM. She was probably all for trying it herself, but, luckily, we dissuaded her, with arguments like it was in a big city, and they were bad, and how far away it was, and how low the survival rate was.
To be honest, it was a seriously bad cutback. About a week later, and nobody had taken up the offer. The pups, on a lighter note, had fully developed their sight and hearing, but they still couldn’t respond to their names properly, which was why leads were needed. They were learning slowly, though, so it wasn’t all bad. Making progress, let’s put it that way.
The next Monday that came, we were packing up, ready to move into another building in Ashton, not wanting to be too much of a burden on the Library Staff’s shoulders.
Our desired location? A milkshake bar, American themed, in the town centre, called ‘Blend n’ Shake’. We were hoping that we could make some milkshakes, and have some fun variety in our diet, as well as a small and relatively easy to defend base area.
Setting off was as easy as loading up the van and saying ‘See you later’, as it was almost certain that we would be returning soon enough. The puppies had to be rounded up, then bundled into the back of the van, and everything we owned piled in after them, including some new ammo and knives for Daniella, and we were off.
The journey was quite short, about ten minutes, as traffic was at an all-time low, so the midday road chaos didn’t exist. The only things in the way were the Zombies themselves, many of whom we crushed while listening to Survivor FM, and Nigel Bell’s cheery voice.
The first real problem presented itself when we arrived at our desired destination; it was already barricaded. Not by survivors, though. It was, quite simply, closed, with the shutters down and lights off.
But we couldn’t hang around too long. The Zombies were already beginning to close in on us, a few picking up our scent and trying to munch on our flesh. Not happening.
However, if we couldn’t get inside, we would have to go back to the Library, in defeat, and Courtney wasn’t one to go down quietly.
Luckily, we didn’t have to. A hiss brought our attention to a window above Blend n’ Shake, and we saw a boy, maybe twelve, with long, matted, black hair and dull brown eyes. His face was dirty, his clothes ragged, his hands hardened, as he threw down a rope for us to climb up with.
Daniella rushed to get the dogs, while Teegan, Courtney and I climbed up the rope, this strange boy helping each of us in, then helping Daniella up with the puppies and dogs, to which he expressed a certain kindness that was joyous to watch.
He soon told us that his name was Tyler, and that he had been hiding out in ‘this dump’ since the first Z-Day started. Tyler then said that we shouldn’t try and save the van, and, therefore, our belongings, until early the next morning, when Zombie activity was at its lowest. Courtney didn’t want to leave it so long, but we didn’t really have a choice, so staying put it was.
His choice of base was certainly questionable. It was a small flat, just above Blend n’ Shake, with dirty walls and floors and piles of rubbish everywhere. His clothes were scattered around one room, with a small mattress and a pillow in one corner, but he cleaned them up and put them into one pile, inviting us to his half-finished dinner of... Roast pigeon?!?!
“Not all of us can go outside, y’know.” He said to our shocked looks. “Anyway, tastes just like chicken.”
He was right. We all ate it thankfully, having had a small breakfast and no dinner.
For the first time, we were seeing what life was like for those who didn’t depend on the Libraries, and it sort of stirred something up inside of Courtney. Her eyes were lighter, her step slightly bouncier, as a light seemed to flicker on inside her. We all knew what she was thinking; we had to move.
But where to? The cities were disasters, the only safe places were small towns and villages... And besides, how would we get food without the Library? Sure, we could loot the shops, but what about when all of that food ran out? We couldn’t live off pigeons and old scraps, could we?
It was with those questions in mind that I slept, quite oblivious to the moans of the undead outside and with thoughts bouncing around in my head like grass hoppers.
In the morning, at about five o’ clock, we were all woken up and given breakfast, which Tyler had caught the night before. Pigeon. Again.
At about half five, we were ready to leave, climbing out of the window with Tyler’s help and running to the cover and safety of the van. After asking Tyler several times, Courtney had figured out that he didn’t want to come with us, so we left him in his hide out, all alone.
Once at the Library, again, we started discussing more plans, again. We seemed to be getting nowhere. Every single time we thought we could go somewhere new, something stopped us and the path turned back to where we had come from. It was almost as if we weren’t meant to move, as if we had to stay and settle down in one place, and one place only, but Courtney wasn’t accepting that, so neither would I.
Days went by, days and eventually a week. The news presented us with no further information on the subject of the cure, but Survivor FM gave us a little hint; no one was taking up the offer of trying out a possibly dangerous cure, so life was going on as usual.
Food seemed to be in great supply, as two new factories had been opened and secured. One specialised in food, the other in clothes. I was working a little more than usual, down in the underground tunnels, but they were mostly safe, with hardly any Zombie problems and almost zero percent chance of injury.
However, it wasn’t always safe. Things could go wrong at any time, as we were going to find out, and, when they did, it wasn’t exactly pretty.
It was just a normal day. Well. I say normal. What I actually mean is, it was a normal Z-Day. Check the barricades, eat breakfast, target practise, then down into the tunnels for work. That particular day, the loads were a bit heavier, as some idiot had not loaded up the crates with enough supplies the day before.
Anyway, I was just climbing into the back of a truck to get the last crate, when all of the lights went off. Power failure. Not that much of a problem; we’d had them before. The only thing that distressed us was when we heard the crashing. The crashing of ceilings collapsing onto the floor. The tunnel was collapsing!