Honeybee

Chapter 11

The early morning light forced its way through the gaps in the curtains and into the house. Jason stirred as the light gently awoke his senses. His eyes opened wide as they scanned the room before his brain had chance to catch up. Everything was how he left it except that the TV was showing nothing but a blank screen. Jason picked up the remote and flicked to another channel. Nothing. He flicked again and again but every channel was the same.

‘What the hell.’ He mumbled, as he threw the remote on the table. He walked over to the kitchen and set the coffee machine brewing and then clicked the radio on.

“...and the Prime Minister has issued a state of emergency after police forces nationwide have been overpowered. Government advice is to remain indoors until the army can control the situation.”

‘What’s going on?’

He picked up his mobile and looked at the screen. No signal. No network provider.

‘This is bad.’ He said to himself ‘What next?’

Just as the words left his mouth, the coffee maker cut off half way through brewing and the radio went dead. Jason shook his head and smiled to himself as he realised that the electric had just been cut off. Shrugging his shoulders, he grabbed a mug and poured what little brewed coffee there was into it. It tasted good and was just enough to breathe some life back into him. From the news last night he knew that things were pretty bad out there. He had no idea how he hadn’t become infected yet, but the one thing he did know was that if he was to survive this thing, he needed supplies. The little food he had in the house would last two days, maximum. In fact, he had more alcohol in the house than food. Not that he was an alcoholic or anything but he enjoyed a drink after a hard day’s work and had a selection to make any bar envious. He made a mental note of the things he needed, food, water, anything else he could get his hands on and then put his mug down and headed to the front door.

The atmosphere outside was eerie. Still and silent. No birds singing a morning chorus. No traffic noise. No airplanes flying passengers to far off places. Just silence. There was a hint of a smell of smoke in the air. Possibly a bonfire but more likely from fires started by the rioters last night. Jason wasn’t looking forward to going into town, he had no idea what he would find but he needed to do it, there was no other choice. He untied the gates and backed the pickup off the drive and onto the road before securing the gates again. Then he began a careful drive into town.

The first half of the drive into town was free of any problems. There was no traffic on the road and any cars were parked neatly off the road on driveways. The second half of the drive was a different matter. The closer Jason got to town, the worse everything was. Burnt out cars lined the road and the streets were littered. Smoke filled the sky as he approached the town centre. The destruction amazed him. It seemed like almost every building was on fire. Police riot vans had been smashed up and overturned and the front half of a fire engine had been embedded in a shop front. But there were no people. No police examining the scene or fire brigade extinguishing the various fires. But most all, no nosey bystanders or looters. The town was empty. Jason pulled over and climbed out of the pickup. He was going to leave it running but had second thoughts. Better to be safe than sorry. The shops looked in a sorry state, most of the contents were scattered across the paved ground in front of them and Jason had to step through it to make any progress. Anything valuable had been taken. The electrical stores were empty. Clothes gathered in piles and books smoked as their pages smouldered. Equipment from coffee shops and restaurants had been abandoned in the street, probably because it was too heavy for the looters to carry. The next building that Jason came to was a bank that had been unsuccessfully raided. Jason shook his head. Banks don’t carry that much money these days. He moved on and came to an outdoor and sports store. An advertisement hung in the shattered window stating “Better than half-price sale” and then another underneath stating “Further reductions.”

‘Well I suppose I better have a look. Can’t pass on a deal like that.’

The aisles were trashed but Jason made his way over to the area that once was the Hiking section. He found a 65 litre rucksack reduced from £125 to £55.

‘Bargain.’ He thought, as he opened it up and began to fill it with anything and everything useful. Ropes, water bottles, camping gas canisters, torches, nutrition bars, anything useful went into the rucksack. Next he moved on to the outdoor clothing section and picked out some hiking boots and a 3-in-1 jacket, waterproof and windproof with a goose down removable inside. Looking around the store for anything he might have missed, he noticed a glass cabinet behind the counter filled with various multi-tools and GPS units. The cabinet was locked so he picked up the nearest heavy object, which was a child’s bicycle and launched it at the cabinet. The glass shattered into thousands of pieces and Jason picked out a couple of Swiss Army knives. On his way out of the store he grabbed a sleeping bag and then headed back to his Ford pickup. It finally dawned on him that this was very real. He was on his own. There could be other people out there somewhere but they might not be friendly. Everyone would be fending for themselves. And then there were the creatures, the Screamers as he liked to call them, to deal with too. It was not a good outlook for the future, but he would survive. If nothing else, he would survive.

Jason’s next stop was the supermarket. Food supplies were what he needed most and very soon they would all be taken. He pulled into the car park of the superstore he used regularly and eyed up the situation. There were about fifteen cars in the car park, all of them empty. So that could mean two things. First, they were happily pushing a trolley around doing their weekly shop – unlikely. Second, they were charging around the store in a frenzied state, grabbing whatever they could get their hands on and not caring who stood in their way – more likely. A third option came into Jason’s head. They could all be dead – also likely. He prepared for the second option and walked through the supermarket doors with his rifle hung over one shoulder. With the electricity cut off, the supermarket was darker than usual. He could still see but it wasn’t welcoming. It was a large store with about twenty aisles, starting with newspapers and electrical all the way down to drinks and alcohol. He could hear movement somewhere in the store and muffled voices. Every now and then he heard a crash as glass smashed on the floor. It didn’t deter him, he casually pushed his trolley along the untidy aisles, methodically placing items in the trolley to maximise space. Tins and bottles first, as many tins as possible and as much water as possible. His presence went largely unnoticed so he returned to his pickup and unloaded the trolley and then went back for more. This time he picked up cereals and dried fruits, and rice and pasta, and then headed to the confectionary aisle. Chocolate and biscuits went straight into the trolley and then a good amount of crisps. Anything else was pointless. The frozen and refrigerated items wouldn’t last more than a day or two at the most. Finally he came to the alcohol section. This was where most of the noise was coming from. A group of youths were happily swigging out of bottles and then smashing them on the ground. One of the youths held a bottle of 18 year old Malt whisky in one hand, his fingers were loosely bandaged. He took a sip and his face turned sour and he launched the bottle across the store. This infuriated Jason.

‘Do they have no respect?’ he asked himself. And then he realised he sounded like a pensioner moaning about the current state of the country. But these where quality spirits that were being disrespectfully wasted. The same youth picked up a bottle of XO brandy and reacted in the same way, sour face and prepared to throw.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ Jason shouted. The group looked over at him. ‘That’s no way to treat fine alcohol.’

‘Fuck you, grandad’ Fingers said.

‘What’d you say?’ Jason said, his blood beginning to boil.

‘I said, fuck you grandad.’ Fingers said and then launched the bottle toward him.

The bottle smashed into the shelf to Jason’s right and a crazy look appeared in his eyes.

‘Okay you little shit. That’s how you want to play it.’ He said, as he pulled the rifle off his shoulder. Smiling, he casually loaded it with a dart and took careful aim.

‘Oooo. What you going to do? Shoot me with your toy?’ Fingers said.

‘Yep.’ Jason said, and then he pulled the trigger.

The dart hit Fingers on his injured hand and bounced of the bandage. He screamed out in pain which brought a smile to Jason’s face.

‘You’re crazy.’ Fingers said, almost crying.

‘Maybe.’ Jason replied. ‘Now, I’ll ask you again. What’d you say?’

Fingers whimpered ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Help yourself.’

Jason walked over and grabbed a selection of Whisky and Brandy.

‘You kids take care.’ He said as he walked off with a smile on his face. He was lucky it was just a group of youths confronting him. Next time he might not be so lucky, but he’d deal with that if and when it happened.

Jason pushed open the supermarket doors and headed over to his truck. He unloaded the trolley, carefully packing the bottles of alcohol into the back so that they wouldn’t roll around. A second later, he looked up and around the car park. The other cars were still there but he was sure the only people left in the supermarket were the group of youths.

‘Where did they go? Why leave the cars?’

Then he noticed an over turned trolley with its contents spilling out over the tarmac.

‘This can’t be good...’

His words rang true, from behind him came a deafening sound that shook him to the bone. SCREEECH! He slowly turned around and was confronted with one of the hideous plant creatures.

‘Oh shit! A Screamer!’ They are the only words he managed to get out before he ran to the door of his truck and jumped in.

‘The keys. Where are the keys?’ He searched his pockets twice before he remembered that the keys were sitting on the tailgate at the back of the truck.

‘Really? You are an idiot Jason, an absolute idiot.’ He knew that if he was going to survive this thing, he needed to be smarter. No more mistakes. Mistakes could cost him his life.

‘Okay. I need a plan.’ He looked in the rear view mirror, the Screamer was at the back of the truck. The truck began to shake as the Screamer grabbed hold of the tailgate and let out another screech. Jason leapt out and sprinted across the car park towards the supermarket doors. The doors flung open as he crashed through them.

‘KIDS.’ He yelled. ‘Grab a weapon.’ He turned around and barricaded the glass doors with a stack of trolleys. It wouldn’t stop the Screamer but it would definitely slow it down.

The group of youths came running. Not with weapons, each one was still holding a bottle of alcohol, they came to see what the commotion was all about.

‘What’s going on grandad?’ Fingers said, his cheekiness coming back to him.

‘First, stop calling me grandad or I’ll shoot you in the other hand. Second, there is an infected human... creature, out there who is about to come in here and gobble you all up.’

‘Ha, funny. You have gone senile in your old age.’ Fingers said, as the other youths sniggered behind him.

‘Take a look.’ Jason said, gesturing with his hand.

Fingers peered through the glass doors.

‘You are going senile’ he said. ‘There’s no one out there.’

Jason looked out at the car park, carefully scanning it back and forth.

‘Where’d you go?’ He whispered.

The pair of them about jumped out of their skin as the hideous creature suddenly appeared in front of them and pounded on the doors. It left trails of rotting flesh smeared on glass and let out a screech that made the youths almost mess their pants. Fingers jumped away from the doors and hid behind his friends. Jason was calmer and backed away slowly, grabbing his rifle ready for when it burst through the doors.

‘Told you.’ Jason said, as he eyed the group to check they were alright.

‘You.’ He said nodding at one of the kids, ‘Go and find something flammable. Lighter fluid, fire lighter. Check in the barbeque section. Find anything liquid that will burn.’

The youth did as he was told and quickly headed to the Seasonal Goods aisle.

‘The rest of you, when that thing comes through the doors, pound it with anything you can find.’

The kids looked at him and nodded just as their friend returned carrying four bottles of fire lighter and a box of matches. He dumped them on the floor and then pulled a couple of cans of deodorant out of his pockets.

‘Good thinking kid.’ Jason said, just as the creature broke the glass on the door.

‘Now get ready. Here he comes.’