A World Reborn (Novella): The Harrowsfield Outbreak Read online

  A World Reborn

  The Harrowsfield Outbreak

  By Chris Thompson

  Text Copyright © 2017 Chris Thompson

  The cover picture was created by me, and is copyright of Chris Thompson. There can be no re-use, modification, deviation or alteration of any kind for any purpose without the express permission of the creator.

  The following is a work of fiction; no likenesses to persons, living or dead, or events is intended or inferred. The subject matter is suitable for mature audiences and features scenes of violence, adult language and horror. If you do not enjoy such content, or find it offensive, then do not read any further. Reader discretion is advised.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter One

  The infected bayed and moaned; a the horrifying chorus of nearly a hundred undead voices clamouring for the taste of flesh as they pressed up against the ramshackle barricade. Tara and the other survivors looked on helplessly as they battered against the doors and windows of the hardware store – a good place to hide the group had originally thought, given the copious supplies and materials available within to build their defences, as well as to manufacture weapons. In terms of access, there were two store windows, one either side of a single door at the front and at the rear, a single door that led into a back alleyway; all of which had been boarded up and blocked off to keep them safe should a few stray infected catch their scent. And now, Tara realized, all they had done was build their own tomb. Her husband, Tobias, struggled manically to deconstruct the defences they’d erected over the alleyway door with the assistance of his sister, Emily. Tara would have helped, but the small space was already difficult to work in with two of them, so she stayed with the other survivors – the other soon to be victims, she thought darkly. With ravenous force, the infected were starting to grip and heave at the external boards, ripping their fingers apart as they eagerly undid the defences. If Tobias and Emily didn’t succeed soon, and Tara doubted they would, their only recourse would be to retreat to the upstairs apartment, block the door as best they could, and then hope against hope that something drove the infected away. Either that or jump out of the window, hope not to break a leg, and scramble away.

  “Damn it, Emily, pull!” Tobias roared angrily.

  “I’m trying!” She yelled back, her frustration laced with fear.

  “Oh, God they’re coming through!” James called out, drawing Tara’s attention back to the survivors in the front of the store. The loud sound of one of the boards breaking away from the window could be easily heard even at the back of the store. The glass shattered moments later, and then pressure began to be exerted on the inner boarding of the left window. They had minutes, if that, before the infected would have access.

  Tara looked at the situation before her: from left to right, there was a counter where one would check out goods, three aisles and then the wall. It wasn’t a lot of space, which may or may not work in their favour. If they were lucky, the infected would be manageable and controllable; as they moved through the narrow spaces, it would allow the survivors to pick them off one by one - as long as they were quick. If they were unlucky, then they’d be swarmed and overwhelmed by the infected, with little to no room to move. Turning away from the door of the store, she checked the left and right turns in the short corridor; the former going upstairs while the latter led to the blocked off alleyway door.

  “We should never have blocked off our only other means of escape.” Emily hissed angrily.

  “I didn’t hear you complaining before!” Tobias shot back at her.

  They were bickering, as they always did, even with death so close to hand; Tara would’ve hoped that on this, possibly the last night of their lives, they might finally come together, but it seemed unlikely. Tara looked at the other survivors: James, a friend and colleague at the school Tara used to teach at, Michelle, his girlfriend, and Rodriguez, Tara’s neighbour. It had been only a few days since the day everything changed - since the country and the whole world had descended into madness. The last she’d heard, most of the major cities were battlegrounds; on one side, the infected and their Reborn controllers, and on the other the military and police who were desperately trying to save lives and get people to safety out of the cities. That’s when the second phase of the attack had taken place. The Reborn had unleashed the virus in almost all the major towns, anything with a population of over ten thousand, and that meant there were few, if any, safe places left for those trying to flee the violence.

  Harrowsfield had been the perfect place to live until that day, and now, within a day of the outbreak in their town, almost everyone they had known was dead. As the boards over the left windows began to buckle, Tara mused that she’d always wanted children, but given what was about to happen to her, she was glad that she hadn’t had any. After stroking a stray strand of her dark hair that had somehow escaped her ponytail behind her ear, she pulled out the claw hammer that she’d been carrying through the belt on jeans, and held it tightly. While she knew it was likely futile, she was resolved to go down fighting. James picked up a two-handed mallet while Rodriguez armed himself with a two by four plank. Michelle, armed with a shovel, stood behind the counter with a kind of calm that Tara wished she owned. Instead, she stood trembling, fear causing her heart to race and her hands to shake uncontrollably.

  “I did it!” Tobias yelled triumphantly, dislodging a large piece of wood that had been securely attached across the doorway. Tara turned to look, hopeful that escape might be possible after all. She stepped into the small corridor just as she heard the front window board shatter.

  “They’re in! Oh, God, they’re coming in!” James reported fearfully, but Tara knew that it didn’t matter. All Tobias needed to do was get the door open and then they’d be safe.

  Tara’s hopes turned to terror within moments of the back door being opened. An infected lunged through the doorway and wrapped its hands around Tobias’ throat. He screamed fearfully, wrestling with the creature as it tried to draw him towards its mouth, but Tobias was fighting hard, hard enough that there was a chance to save him.

  “Emily!” He managed to call out, his voice strangled and quiet against the baying of the infected as they surged into the front of the store. His sister stood motionless, not even screaming as fear paralyzed her. Although terrified herself, Tara grabbed the woman by the shoulders and roughly pulled her out of the way, practically hurling her into the front space where she stumbled and fell down. Tara charged towards her husband, raising the hammer overhead ready to crush the skull of the infected choking him. He’d wrapped his hand around its neck and was doing all he could to push it back, and as it was at a safe distance from her husband, Tara swung the hammer down powerfully; the first strike cracked the skull and stunned the infected momentarily, just enough for Tobias to shove the creature off. Tara struck it again, congealed blood leaking from the wound, and this time the infected dropped to its knees; one more strike finished it off, caving its skull in with a grotesque wet sound. Another infected came in from the alleyway; pushing past the one Tara had killed and lunging at Tobias who was struggling to retreat past his wife. She was jostled by him, almost knocking her into the waiting, hungry embrace of the infected, but she managed to steady herself against the wall with one hand.

  “Tobias!” She called out, but he was already charging up the stairs to the apartment.

  Tara managed to strike the infected as it neared her; one strike across the side of the head with the flat side of the hammer, then rearing the hammer back and slamm
ing the claw side of the hammerhead into the top of its skull. It collapsed to its knees, dead, limp and heavy, and almost dragging Tara down with it as she held the hammer tightly. She tried to lever it free, but the claw was buried too deeply. To make matters worse, a third infected was trying to make its way into the back room; obstructed by the infected attached to her weapon and the dead one at their feet, along with the debris of the barricade that had been dislodged.

  Screams cut through the air from the front of the store; they weren’t screams of fear or of panic, but of agonizing pain. Tara let go of the hammer and tried to retreat into the small corridor, but Emily barged into her, knocking her into the wall where she struck her head, dazing her for a few moments. Tara looked into the store front; James had been grappled from behind, apparently caught mid-escape. One infected held him around the waist, ripping into his neck with its teeth while another tore into his arm. It seemed, to Tara’s horror, that he wasn’t turning. Michelle battled desperately with the shovel, striking with powerful left and right strikes that swatted infected back, but the sheer number of infected were pressing her too hard. She wouldn’t last much longer. Rodriguez suddenly lunged from around the corner; almost a second too late, Tara realized he had been infected. She darted, almost into the path of the creature coming in from the alleyway door, now having made its way past its fallen companions. Tara heard loud banging, and saw out the corner of her eye that Emily was pounding on the door to the apartment, begging and pleading for her brother to let her in. The noise attracted the infected that were near the doorway, including Rodriguez. Emily’s screams of terror when she saw them advancing up the stairs towards her effectively sealed her fate. Tara had no idea what to do. Escape seemed impossible, and with her traitorous husband preventing access to the only potentially safe haven, Tara’s terrified, overwhelmed brain resorted to the most basic of instincts: to flee. She didn’t think, she reacted; making a split second decision to shoulder charge into a male infected coming at her from the alleyway door. It disoriented him, allowing Tara to grab his arm and pull while twisting, sending him to the ground. He collapsed onto the corpses at his feet, awkwardly flailing his arms. Tara charged over him, leaping away from his snatching hands and snapping jaws and darted into the alleyway with no idea if it were safe or if there were a hundred more infected waiting for her. She scanned left and right, and saw that while there were half a dozen in the direction of the former, and four in the latter, if she moved quickly, escape was possible. Fearful, guilt ridden for leaving Emily and Tobias behind, Tara turned to the right and began to run, weaving between the infected and not stopping until she reached the street proper.

  Tara knew she needed somewhere to hide - somewhere the infected wouldn’t find her any time soon if she was lucky. It seemed almost mythical, a place of safety where there wouldn’t be any reanimated carcasses of people she knew - people she cared for - trying to rip the flesh from her bones. To the right, the main cross street at the centre of town was filled with what must have been a thousand infected. The ones at the rear were shuffling around, while those at the front started to move in her direction as soon as they had caught sight of her, or perhaps caught her scent. On the left, there seemed to be a smaller number, no more than a few dozen and they were spread far enough apart that Tara believed she had a good chance of making her way through them and continuing on down the street. The route led past some restaurants, shops, galleries and on towards the chamber of commerce. Perhaps, Tara considered, that municipal building would offer some protection. Frozen momentarily with indecision, Tara was snapped into action when she heard the shuffling behind her and the moans of the undead becoming louder. Turning left, she started down the street. Unarmed, she knew her only chance of survival was to keep moving and use her mobility to her advantage. The infected she’d seen so far were slow and clumsy; most dangerous only in large numbers or when they could limit their target’s mobility. There were cars littering the sides of the street, some with their doors open, and briefly, Tara wondered if there were any that might have keys in them. Perhaps, she mused, she could escape the town altogether. She stopped at the first one with open doors and found the driver’s seat drenched in blood and chunks of flesh. The lack of skeletal remains indicated that whoever had been driving was infected, but not before they’d suffered. The sight prompted Tara to consider returning to try and help Tobias and Emily, but she pushed the thought violently away. Both of them had pushed her aside to try and save themselves; they hadn’t been in the least concerned with her survival, and when she recalled how many infected had been surging into the store when she left, she doubted she’d be able to do anything now anyway. And with this grim thought, she realized that in a dark part of her heart she hadn’t known she owned, she no longer cared about their survival, only her own.

  Moving away from the car, Tara continued to check others she came across which were open or unlocked. She quickly surveyed them for anything she could use as a weapon, but after searching the fifth vehicle, she was compelled to stop. The infected were closing in on her and as she had found nothing of any use, she was wasting valuable time which she realized could be better used increasing her lead on them, and so she pressed on. She arrived at the next intersection and looked quickly left and right; the former was mostly abandoned, a few stray infected were standing idle, twitching and seemingly unfocused on hunting prey. The latter had been barricaded off with local sheriff’s deputies vehicles; there were two closer and two further away, so it seemed logical to suppose the sheriff had instructed them to block the street off at both ends and fight the infected as they approached. It wasn’t the most important street to try to defend, having only a large art gallery and a large fishing store, but the sheriff wasn’t the smartest of men Tara knew. Or, perhaps it was more correct to say, had known, as it seemed likely he was dead. The town, Tara thought as she started towards the police barricade, had fallen so quickly it seemed unimaginable, but considering that the infection took hold within seconds of being bitten, it seemed all too possible when one considered how many infected there had been following the outbreak at the fairground.

  Tara began stepping around the slain infected the deputies had managed to gun down. There were a lot of them, but having seen the size of the hordes roaming the town, Tara knew that the ones dead at her feet were just a drop in the pond. Nonetheless, she hoped there might be weapons she could use, perhaps even a gun. She jogged, trying to put extra distance between her and the pursuing infected to give her more time to search the vehicles, and perhaps any bodies she found, thoroughly. She reached the right side vehicle and looked over the hood; what she saw made her stomach churn. Scattered in a huge pool of blood lay several skeletal limbs and ripped shreds of fabric. Belts and shoes had been discarded as the infected had ravenously devoured and ripped apart the deputies they slaughtered who had been standing in the firing line. Not all of them would have died that way, no doubt some would have turned, but Tara saw five skulls and realized she’d probably known these people, and now they were beyond recognition. Tara cautiously moved around the hood, wary of any infected jumping out at her unexpectedly, and then approached the open, driver’s side door. There were scratch marks on the seat, claw marks really, and Tara suspected that one of the nearby fallen had tried to climb into the vehicle for safety, only to be dragged out and consumed alive. This image, the smell of the blood and the sight of the shredded remains overwhelmed her, and Tara spun around, away from the sight and vomited. She retched hard and painfully, emptying what little she had had in her stomach. She fell to her knees and retched again, feeling the tangy, sickening taste of bile in the back of her throat, the smell filling her nostrils. As her stomach forced her to retch one final time, she could hear the sounds of the encroaching infected and tried to force herself to recover. She held her breath, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the shaky, weak feeling in her body.

  Tara’s mind slipped back to before the outbreak. She and Tobias had been watching th
e news, shocked and revolted by the seemingly worldwide nature of the outbreak. It seemed unimaginable that there truly was a virus that turned people into… zombies. That was the word she had used and Tobias had scolded her, telling her she sounded dumb calling them zombies instead of ‘the infected’, which was the term used on the news. She’d not stood up for herself then, and she hadn’t when he’d told her to not worry about it - that there was no doubt a cure or a plan or something to deal with it and the crazy people who had developed it. But the Reborn had seemed relentless, and the reports of them directly engaging the police and military were rampant before Harrowsfield had been attacked. Afterwards, well, Tara hadn’t had the opportunity to check the news.

  Tara pulled herself back into the moment. The infected were getting closer, and although she was still a little shaky, she got to her feet and looked around. Amidst the skeletons, there were a few discarded firearms that were slick with blood. She darted towards the closest, a shotgun, and picked it up, feeling revulsion flare up in her gut again as her fingers came into contact with the bodily fluid. She pushed it aside and pulled back on the pump action reload mechanism, looking inside to see if there were any shells. It was, however, empty. She discarded it and went to the next weapon, a revolver, and after a moment fiddling with the mechanism to eject the cylinder, she saw that all the bullets had been fired. Tossing it to the ground and letting out a small sigh of frustration, she charged towards the second vehicle. There was blood on the inside of the window, and she learned why when she wrenched the door open. The body of a deputy slumped out and onto the floor, a massive, likely self inflicted, gunshot wound had torn open the back of his head. After seeing the slaughter of his friends, Tara imagined he’d climbed into the vehicle and stopped himself suffering the same fate the only way he could think of. As she set to searching his corpse, she wondered why he hadn’t simply driven off, forcing the vehicle out of the barricade and away from the carnage. But then she considered that after seeing the horrors he had, perhaps his mental state had been impaired.