The Dead

‘There’s only three of them moving about,’ said Jack. ‘We could take them easy.’

‘But why bother?’

‘Whatever’s in there,’ said Jack, ‘it was obviously valuable enough for people to try and break in.’

‘Sick people probably,’ said Ed. ‘Sick idiots who don’t know anything.’

Jack sat in the road, his back against the car. ‘It’s definitely worth taking a look,’ he said as the others squatted down next to him. ‘What if it’s like Bam says? A huge emergency food supply? We’d be set up for life. It’d make that lorry look like chicken feed.’

Ed had his hand clamped over his mouth and nose, trying to keep the stench out.

‘Jack,’ he said. ‘I thought all you wanted was to get home.’

‘I know … I do … I really do. But we should still look. If we can get rid of those three mugs, we can find some more guns. There have to be guns there. Proper modern working guns. And then we’ll be invincible.’

Ed ground his teeth in frustration. ‘Why don’t we just go to yours?’ he said. ‘Do whatever it is you need to do, then get back to the museum before dark? We could come back here in the morning with some of the guys, DogNut and the others, a proper fighting unit.’

‘You’re such a coward, Ed,’ said Jack. ‘We’ll be all right. Just think what might be inside there waiting for us. The place is huge. I mean it’s the size of, well, the size of a cricket pitch, for God’s sake. There might be food. There might be weapons. There might even be medicine. All three!’

‘Come on, Ed,’ said Bam. ‘We’re here now. Let’s just find out what’s in there, or we won’t be able to think about anything else.’

‘All right, all right.’ Ed realized he was beaten. ‘We’ll look inside. But let’s see if there’s any guns first, like Jack said.’

They stood up and gave each other a high five, though Ed’s slap was pretty half-hearted. Then they carried on towards the Oval, staying low and using cars for cover.

Finally they sneaked across the road to the line of security vehicles.

They checked whether there were any more sickos moving about. As far as they could see, though, there were just the two soldiers and the policeman.

One of the soldiers had a small machine gun hanging over his shoulder on a strap, but now they were closer they realized he was pretty far gone, slow and clumsy, his face eaten away by disease. The other soldier was equally wrecked. In the boys’ experience the sicker the adults were the less likely they were to remember how to use any tools or weapons, and usually attacked with just their bare hands. The policeman was a complete mess, with one ear dangling down by his chin and his features replaced with a cluster of glistening blisters.

‘I’ll take the soldiers,’ Bam whispered, checking his shotgun. ‘You two go for the policeman.’

‘I can’t do it,’ said Ed. ‘I can’t just kill them.’

‘Come on,’ said Bam. ‘Look at them. We’ll be doing them a favour, putting them out of their misery.’

‘No.’ Ed squatted down behind a police van, covering his face with his hands.

‘You do it. I can’t.’

Jack tutted and drew his sword from its scabbard.

‘Wait here.’

‘All right.’

Ed couldn’t watch. He crouched there, hands over his face. He heard his friends’ footsteps. There was a moment’s silence then there came two loud blasts, followed by the sounds of a scuffle and a body hitting the ground.

‘You can come out now,’ Jack called to Ed in a slightly sing-song way, as if talking to a toddler. ‘It’s all safe.’

Ed stood up, still not wanting to look. He walked round the van and over to where Bam and Jack were waiting for him. He was aware of the dark shapes of bodies on the ground.

He told himself that it didn’t make any difference. That these were just three more bodies to add to the piles of corpses that were already here. He forced his eyes round. He had to accept the way things were now. Somehow he had to become as hardened as Jack and Bam.

Jack was wiping his sword clean on the dead policeman’s jacket. Bam was pulling the machine gun off the soldier.

‘You want this?’ he said, offering it to Jack. ‘I’m sticking with my shottie.’

‘I sure do.’

‘Do you know how to use that?’ Ed asked as Jack started turning the gun in his hands.

‘No – but I can find out.’

Parked on the other side of the outer wall that surrounded the grounds were four open-backed lorries. The sort builders used to remove rubble from building sites. They were piled high with corpses. Next to them was a fleet of ambulances, their back doors hanging open, paramedics lying by the wheels.

Whenever he’d watched the news he’d never imagined that one day he’d be part of a story. But now the news had come to town in a big way and there was no one left to record it. The corpses by the TV cameras were blind and deaf. There were no zombified news reporters standing there giving the viewers the statistics.

‘The whole population of London has been wiped out …’

Ed went over to a military Jeep, where two squaddies with blackened faces and hands sat in the front seats as if waiting to drive off. They were wearing white facemasks, presumably to stop them breathing in anything noxious. Above the masks their eyes were clouded. Flies crawled all over them.

They both had side arms in holsters.

Ed carefully unbuckled the belt from the soldier in the passenger seat and strapped it round his waist. The pistol hung heavy and solid at his side. The driver had a pair of binoculars round his neck. Ed fished them off and chucked them over to Bam who thanked him with a big cheesy grin.

Ed did a quick check of the bodies of the other soldiers and policemen. They were all wearing facemasks.

He walked through the open gates and over to the line of ambulances where he jumped up into the back of one. There was a green-clothed paramedic lying on the floor, his face lumpy with yellow spots. His facemask hadn’t prevented him from getting sick, but Ed figured that if he could find one it would at least keep some of the smell out.

With any luck there would be other useful stuff in here as well.

He took off his backpack and went through the ambulance, grabbing anything that looked like it might come in handy and stuffing it in the bag. Painkillers, antiseptic, bandages, antibiotics, scalpels, syringes, rubber gloves, it was all good stuff. And there, finally, in a taped-up cardboard box, a supply of spare masks. He dumped a handful in the top of the bag, but kept three out.

He hopped down off the ambulance. Jack and Bam were walking over discussing how the machine gun worked. Neither of them really had a clue.

‘You ready?’ said Jack when he saw Ed.

‘Here.’ Ed handed out the masks. ‘Put these on. They’ll protect you from the smell at least.’

All the doors in the main stand were securely locked so the boys circled the building looking for another way in. Finally they came to a more modern part where the big glass doors stood open. There were more dead soldiers here, splayed out on the polished floor of a large entrance area. The boys peered cautiously into the gloom.

‘You first,’ said Bam, mock politely.

‘After you,’ said Jack. ‘I insist.’

Ed pushed past them, shaking his head, determined to prove that he wasn’t a coward. The other two followed, laughing and jostling each other. The air inside felt trapped and stale. The boys tried not to gag. Their masks helped a little but there was still a stench of rotting meat mixed with a mouldy, mildewy smell. There was also a humming noise, as if there might be some machinery working somewhere nearby.

They stepped over the bodies of two soldiers, who looked like they were holding each other in their arms, and went up some stairs.

Ed was begi