Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(68)

Gathered in the thousands, laying siege to the parliament buildings, were ranks and ranks of infected people. It was obvious that the mob was infected because of their animal-like movements and the collective pitch of their screams. They covered the streets of Westminster like the legions of Hell.

The camera-feed cut back to the studio and the anchor-man continued reporting. “The Prime Minister, as well as the leader of the opposition, is currently under siege, but he has assured us, through sporadic communications, that the Government is working hard on a solution. Armed forces have been deployed nationwide and all military personnel stationed abroad have been recalled with immediate effect. However, with allied nations also under attack, it remains to be seen whether or not our servicemen will make it home safely.”

Shawcross collapsed backwards, but managed to save himself by putting his hands against the pool table. He had gone deathly pale and seemed ready to throw up.

Annaliese rubbed the back of his neck. “Take deep breaths.”

“Again, these scenes are real. They are happening now. Most of you will have already encountered this devastating attack on our nation, which seems to have emanated from the Southern coastline. We have seen our loved ones, our neighbours, our teachers, our doctors, and even our police officers succumb to this deadly sickness that has sprung upon us overnight. But, if there are people out there still unaware, particularly in the North where the virus is still partially contained, then we urge you to remain indoors. Construct whatever barricades you can to keep your property secure and defend yourselves in whatever way you can. Armed forces are working urgently to regain control of the situation, but the death toll is already in the hundreds of thousands and the number of infected, well… The number of infected has become countless. Great Britain, and perhaps the world, has come under attack by the greatest threat of its history. It is what some religiou groups are calling ‘The End of Days’. We ask you to pray for one another and to remain strong in the way that the people of this great nation always have. Ration your food, defend yourselves, and wait for help to arrive. In the meantime…” the news reporter stared into the camera with tears brimming in his eyes. “God be with us all.”

The program switched to more scenes of devastation; some were from other countries. The Eiffel tower burned as thousands of writhing bodies moved down the Champs Elysees. German forces flattened the streets of Munich with their mighty tanks. Pictures from the American countryside showed roving bands of militia fighting side by side with Marines. The various scenes made one thing clear: the battle was gradually being lost. The number of infected people in the video footage were countless. Their relentless pursuit of survivors was abundantly clear.

Mankind was being exterminated.

By itself.

Charlotte began freaking out. Clark tried to get a hold of her, but she pushed him away. “I need to find a phone. I need to call my parents. They’ll be worrying about me. What if they’re in danger?”

“Calm down, sweetie,” Annaliese told her, but the girl wasn’t listening. She was in a full-blown panic.

Charlotte ran towards the door they had come in through and yanked it open. “I need to get out of here. I need… I need-”

The bald and bearded man was on Charlotte immediately, having been standing the other side of the door when she opened it. Before she even had chance to cry out, the man was tearing apart her neck and opening up her veins.

“It’s Tom,” Shawcross yelled. “The night watchman.”

Tom threw Charlotte’s limp and bleeding body to the ground and snarled. He turned his focus to the others in the room and headed for Clark first. The young lad quickly leapt behind the pool table. Tom readjusted his focus and stalked after Shawcross instead.

“Get back,” Shawcross shouted as he swung the thick branch he’d brought from the reptile house. He struck Tom on his bald head and sent the rotund man backwards.

But Tom would not be deterred. Blood dripping down his chin and staining his greying beard, he snarled at Shawcross and kept coming.

Annaliese could see that Shawcross’s feeble attacks with the branch were not working. She looked around for something better and grabbed one of the pool cues from the table. She held it upside down so that the thick end was furthest away from her. Then she ran up to Tom and took a shot.

The pool cue snapped as it fractured the man’s skull with an audible crack! The blow would have put a normal human in the hospital, but all it did to Tom was disorientate him. Annaliese had expected the pool cue to break and she readjusted her grip on it. Wielding it like a makeshift dagger, she thrust the cue forward, ramming the tip into Tom’s temple. She cringed as the man’s soft cranium give way.

This is getting way too easy.

Tom fell to the floor with the broken pool cue jutting out the side of his head. Annaliese wiped the blood from the back of her hand onto her shirt. It was cold, not warm like fresh human blood should be.

“Charlotte!” Clark ran across the room and sprawled down beside his already dead girlfriend. “Oh, shit, Charlotte. Don’t worry, babe, we’ll get help.”

Mike moved up to the lad and pulled him back to his feet. “She’s dead. I’m sorry.”

Clark shook his head. He seemed to partially accept it, but took on a blank stare that seemed worryingly close to traumatic shock. Annaliese went over and took the lad by his hand and led him over to the room’s sofa.