BLOCKADE

Somewhere in the centre of the city was a large modernised building about ten stories high. It was a new build and was designed for the sole purpose of musical artists recording albums. It had many offices and of course many sound studios along with private rooms for the artists themselves. The walls were sound proofed and only the offices and artist rooms had windows.

In one of these many recording studios there were two busy people, despite the state of the city. Behind the soundproof glass of the recording area, where three microphones and various musical instruments were housed, a young, curvy built woman of 20 was standing behind one of the microphones. She wore converse shoes, with black leggings hugging her legs. On top of the leggings she wore a pair of dark blue shorts and above them, a black top was hidden by a loose fitting purple hoodie. Her eyes were a dazzling blue colour despite looking tired. Her hair was long at the back and sides but was eyebrow length at the fringe. Her hair colour was black but she had violet streaks through it to give it a flash of interesting colour. Her name was Bailley Gilbert and she was the latest young singing star.

One the other side of the glass, where all the equipment and controls were, a man in his forties sat in a black leather chair. He had a brown goatee and thick rimmed glasses.

"Richard, can't we take a break?" The woman asked with a whine. "We've been here since first thing this morning!"

The man looked through the glass at her, changing the options so he could be heard.

"We record this next song and I promise to get you something." He replied. "You're doing great, Bailley."

Before he got ready to record again, he got up and moved to the side of the room, where a radio playing the news sat. The newsreader was providing a warning that anyone still alive in the city should barricade their buildings and await help. He switched the radio off, sick of listening to all the warnings since morning. He grumbled to himself as he sat back down.

Richard began the recording and set up the music track so that Bailley could begin.

Behind the glass, the girl began to sing, her voice hitting the perfect notes and echoing around the small chamber around her.

"Walking down the street and I hardly know you"

Elsewhere in the building, chaos was raining down as office workers and other staff screamed and ran for their lives as something attacked them. Bailley couldn't hear them and neither could Richard as he was recording her.

"It's like it was meant to be, holding hands with you and we're out tonight" She continued to sing.

Someone was desperately banging on the door of the studio but Richard ignored it. He growled under his breath about it being a hoax, lots of drug nuts running wild or something. The bangs eventually ended and he focussed back onto Bailley's song, which was coming to an end.

"Whenever I think about you... Whenever I think about you... Whenever I think about you"

The music slowly faded out as Bailley sang the last of the lyrics. She looked through the glass at Richard who signalled she could talk.

"Can we take a break now?" She pleaded.

Just as Richard was going to reply, the power cut out in the building. The two of them looked around in the darkness, wondering what had caused the power cut.

Richard got up and walked out, heading down the corridor to the power room, to see if all the fuses had somehow tripped.

Bailley walked out the recording stage just in time to hear Richard's screams as something tore him apart. She ran back into the recording booth and closed the door. She waited. Looking through the glass for any sign of anyone coming in. She stood there, waiting. Straining her ears, Bailley could hear horrible sounds echoing through the building, glass shattering, people screaming, strange snarls and then just as suddenly as she noticed them, they vanished. A deadly silence hung in the air like everything had stopped.

A sudden bang caused Bailley to jump. The door to the hallway, the very door Richard had gone out and Bailley had forcefully closed was being battered by something. From the glass of the recording booth, she looked on. She felt a mixture of curiosity and fear surge through her. She was breathing deeply, trying to calm herself down. Bailley was expecting the worst, some man, or a gang of them with knives or guns battering the doors down and killing everyone.

The door banged again, this time visibly shaking on its hinges. Bailley began muttering a small prayer to herself, hoping it wasn't what she feared would be on the other side. She did not want to be brutally murdered or raped by a gang of thugs. A cold sweat ran down her brow at the very thought. The thought was interrupted by an enormous bang and then a crashing thud as the door broke off its hinges and landed on the studio floor.

Bailley bravely looked back through the glass of the booth to see who had come in. The sight that greeted her shocked her to the core and was far beyond her imagination. A large, snarling monkey with white hair and enormous fangs stood on the broken down door. Saliva and blood dripped from the creature's mouth as its strange cream coloured eyes scanned the room, its chest expanding and contracting rapidly with each sudden breath it took.

Bailley widened her eyes and shook with fear when the creature saw her through the glass. It slowly began walking towards her, its shoulder blades positioned high, ready. With a primal screech the creature lunged into the air towards her. Bailley backed up in fear, tripping over a cable and falling on her back. A loud thud echoed around her and was followed by another, smaller thud. She looked up and noticed that the sound proof glass withstood the creature's body weight, flooring the snarling beast. Bailley smiled in surprised relief as the creature got up and tried again, failing for a second time.

The creature was about to jump again but hesitated. Bailley looked on with curiosity and then gasped with frightening realisation. The monkey had seen the door to the booth and was preparing to ram that instead of the glass. Bailley ran to the door and leaned her back against it, hoping to fight off the creature. With violent force the creature slammed into the door, shaking both the door and Bailley's body with the impact force. The creature repeatedly rammed the door and it was growing clear to Bailley that the door would break down soon. After two more sickening bangs Bailley got up and rushed to the centre of the booth. At that moment, the monkey broke the door down and landed in the booth with her, growling. Bailley backed up in fear, looking around for a way past the monkey but there was no such path. The musical instruments surrounded her as the monkey approached her, preparing to pounce. Bailly could feel her heart pounding against her chest, threatening to burst out.

In a sudden movement, the creature screeched loudly and pounced into the air towards Bailley who grabbed a guitar and smacked the creature to the side. The monkey howled in pain as it crashed against the wall and struggled to get back up while Bailley ran for the door.

As Bailley ran for the hallway, the monkey pounced from behind. It didn't grab onto her as it had missed but it did hit her strong enough to knock her over. She desperately regained her footing and backed up against the filing cabinet as the monkey prepared to pounce again. When it did, Bailley swiftly ducked and caused the creature to slam into the cabinet behind her. While it was stunned, she grabbed the broken door and placed it on top of the monkey, stomping down on it to keep it dazed. Acting fast, she pulled the filing cabinet away from the wall before moving behind it. With a grunt of effort she pushed the cabinet over and stood back as it landed on the door, crushing the monkey beneath it.

Bailley stood where she was for a few moments, listening for any sign that the creature was still alive but found none. Then a small pool of blood slowly moved out from under the door, causing the singer to place her hand over her mouth in disgust. She slowly paced away from the scene of the creature's demise and entered the dark hallway. The lights were flickering violently and the eerie silence continued, interrupted by the occasional strange moan.

The building was a mess, glass, paper and blood littered the floor and walls. There was the occasional dead body and all the doors had been knocked down, leaving open entrances to dark rooms, the contents of which were now unknown. Continuing down the dark corridor, illuminated only by the sudden flickers of the lights above, Bailley's eyes scanned for any danger or weapons she could use. She stopped. To her right was a fire axe hanging in a box on the wall. Using her elbow, she smashed the glass and took hold of the axe, surprised at the weight of the blade.

The sound of the glass shattering under her elbow alerted something at the end of the corridor, panting breaths and rapid footsteps echoed towards her through the darkness. The lights flickered, showing another one of the savage primates walking towards her. Darkness. Her breath hitched in her throat as another cold sweat ran down her forehead. The lights flickered. The primate was ready to pounce. Darkness. Bailley backed up slowly, lifting the axe. The lights flickered. The beast lunged through the air towards her. Darkness. Bailley swung the axe to the side and hit the creature in the side. The lights flickered. The creature laid bleeding and dying on the floor from the deep axe wound in its side. Darkness. With her confidence growing, Bailley continued on through the corridor towards the stage so that she could leave this forsaken building.

The street was silent. Flames licked at the burned chassis of the cars that littered the road. The road itself was covered in broken glass, bullet cases, newspapers and blood splashes. The occasional empty gun or knife also lay amongst the glass and blood. On this road, several zombies shuffled around aimlessly, groaning out as they did so. Their clothes revealed their former identities. These were the soldiers from the military blockade. Their cream coloured eyes looked on, giving an eerie feel to their expressionless, pale and blood stained faces.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused the zombies to turn with a groan and begin shuffling towards a new target. As one of the corpses turned, a brick slammed into its forehead, caving in the bone underneath and forcing the corpse to the ground.

"Good aim!" Mark exclaimed to the one who threw the brick, Ryan.

Ryan nodded in thanks before picking up another brick to launch at one of the other zombies. However, this brick sailed through the air and flew past the zombie's head by a mere inch. Ryan cursed under his breath.

Out of nowhere, a knife shot through the air and embedded itself in the zombie's forehead, causing it to collapse to the ground with one last dying groan. Vincent retracted his arm after having thrown the knife. The final zombie had its head caved in by Seymour's crowbar.

Around the small group, there were many other zombies but none of them were close enough to be a major threat for the time being. The group checked to make sure none of the corpses lying on the ground were dormant zombies and started searching the blockade for ammunition and supplies. Anything that could be of help was a necessity.

Mark checked the cars for any radios and exclaimed when he found one. However, his excitement was short lived when there was nothing but static on all of the frequencies.

Ryan picked up one of the assault rifles, an SA80 and practiced aiming with it.

"These guns should come in handy!" He exclaimed, not even checking the status of the gun.

Vincent looked beyond the blockade at all the bodies lying on the ground, all the bullet casings littering the street.

"I'm guessing they're all empty or close to it." He replied to Ryan with a grim expression.

With depressing realisation, Ryan checked the magazine feed and discovered that Vincent was right. Observing the other abandoned weapons, he noticed they were most likely the same. He sighed. The city was in ruins, there were no laws, no police and no order. Even so, nothing was going right or working out for them to cope with the situation better. He had to wonder, was this the end? Were the others being hopelessly optimistic in the face of what could only be described as an apocalypse? Ryan's life had always been handed to him, or so his closest friend had once told him. He thought about that. His closest friend. Ryan hadn't thought of him until now and lowered his head as the depressing assumption hit him. His friend was most likely dead. They all probably were. It was then he heard it, waking up from his thoughts he saw Mark's frightened face shout at him before he felt two stiff hands grasp his shoulders, pushing him forward as the weight of a body pressed into his back. A sickening smell coming from it. In his daze, his reactions were slow and he couldn't defend himself. He knew what was coming, a set of teeth were going to lock down onto his neck. Before this could happen, a loud bang shot out and he felt something wet splash against his face. The stiff hands left his shoulders as the body fell behind him, crashing its damaged head against a car. The car's alarm started screaming at the contact, the sound echoing all around them. Despite the wailing car alarm, Ryan was still in a daze, numb to everything around him. Vincent stood ahead of him, his desert eagle smoking from the gunshot. He saw the others all calling out to him but he couldn't understand them. Ryan was quickly snapped out of his daze when Vincent marched over and slapped him across the face, yelling at him.

"We need to go now!" Vincent shouted. "That alarm is going to attract every zombie for blocks!"

Ryan, now understanding everything that was happening, nodded and ran with them. They didn't care about the noise of their running as the car alarm was deafening in comparison. Not only were they running away from danger, from a military blockade but they were also running away from the only hope they had.

The group had stopped running a while ago and were now at a brisk walking pace. Despite trying to move as fast as possible they still had to be careful as the streets were littered with debris, corpses and the ever present threat of the zombies. It was something out of a twisted horror movie or nightmare. All this time the group had been silent. Vincent, who had been leading the group, was still angry with Ryan. For all the aggression he had shown earlier, it made little sense that he had just zoned out the way he did and nearly got himself killed by a neglected zombie. What happens if no one else is around? This was one thought but the mortality of everyone was put in question. Despite the risks in his past, working with reptiles the size of crocodiles, Vincent had never felt truly afraid for his life. Now, it seemed like anyone could die at any time given the right combination of bad luck, timing and danger. One thing he resented was how some of the group seemed to be taking things a lot lighter than they should. Mark, the man who had appeared with his large ginger companion who had almost killed Ryan, had gained confidence around these zombies. None of them realised there were greater threats hidden in the city, such as the creature that nearly claimed his life in the hotel. He knew he was lucky that time. Next time, he might not be so lucky. He had not told the others of that encounter because he knew they wouldn't believe him. Although as things were getting worse he feared he might have to break the bad news to them and further crush their hopeful spirits.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the ginger man, Seymour. The milkman was holding his crowbar, his gun tucked away in his belt. He tapped Vincent's shoulder and gestured to a large, impressive building. The windows had been boarded up, the fresh wood contrasting to the ancient stone that the building had been constructed with.

"Someone might be in there." He suggested. "Looks strong as well, we need a break."

Vincent nodded in agreement. He lead the group over to the doors of the building, realising it was the University of Glasgow. Reaching the large front door they all noticed, unsurprisingly that the door was locked. However, peering through the keyhole Vincent noted there was nothing barricading it on the other side. Vincent tried to break the lock by kicking the door. Despite the strength of his kick, it accomplished nothing as the thick wooden door remained firmly closed and locked. A hand on his shoulder pushed him out of the way before Seymour kicked the door. A loud crack was heard as the wood around the lock splintered and the door swung open.

The group piled into the school and closed the door behind them, finding a case full of trophies and stacking it against the door. It would take a lot of force to knock the door open with that behind it. Now that they were all in the building, they took a breath. Mark and Vincent slumped against one of the walls. Ryan sat down on one of the benches in the hallway and felt the blood against his face. His expression contorted to disgust as he looked at the blood on his fingertips. He needed to wash it off. As he observed his hand, he noticed that he was shaking. Nearly dying had a distinct effect on him and he was very shaken.

Seymour didn't seem ready to rest and after catching his breath, tightened his grip on the crowbar.

"We need to make sure this place is safe." He pointed out, preparing to continue down the hallway.

The others nodded to him and stood back up. Seymour led them down the corridor. The floor was smooth and masked their footsteps allowing them to listen out for any sounds that could be the undead. The building did seem secure and within the darkened corridors and rooms there was silence. Not trusting in the silence, Vincent kept his grip on the golf club firm and kept a sharp lookout for anything that might jump out at them. Mark kept his Beretta Inox pointed ahead of his vision, also considering the possibility of meeting survivors. The whole building was silent, too silent for the liking of the group. Slowly opening doors all they would ever find was an empty room. The rooms seemed undamaged, no blood, no zombies and no abandoned work.

"Sort of odd that there's no sign of life in here." Ryan commented, a little more aware again.

"Not really." Mark replied, keeping his voice low. "They closed the schools when they knew something horrible was happening."

Ryan digested this point for a little while, his shoulders relaxing from their previously tensed position.

"Then there shouldn't be anything in here." He reasoned with optimism.

Vincent interjected quickly with one question. "Then who locked and barricaded it?"

This question hung in the air and allowed a tense silence to fall among them.

As they continued on, Ryan started to fall behind in his walking pace. He wanted to get the blood off his face; the sickening sensation was driving him mad. He could feel the blood drying and sticking to his face, disgusting him. His arms and legs felt heavier and heavier from fatigue and disgust. Ryan continued to observe his surroundings, looking for a kitchen or a bathroom somewhere so he could use some water to clean his face and hands. The darkness of the corridor seemed to stretch on into an infinite black silence due to his fatigue. The rest of the group continued on in front of him, too focused on potential dangers to realise that he was falling behind. The school was unnervingly silent given the situation. No groans of the undead, no talking from survivors and no signs of activity except for the doors being locked and the windows being boarded up. Vincent led them round the corner, heading off to the right. This new corridor was aligned with classroom doors, giving him reason to stop for a moment to signal to the others to be extra careful when checking the rooms. After turning back round, he started to carefully walk down the corridor, unaware that Ryan had chosen to go left.

Ryan's desire to find somewhere to wash his face was overpowering as he was still in shock from nearly being bitten and killed by a zombie due to his own blunder. He advanced down the corridor on his own, deeming the place safe after waiting in vain for something to happen since they came in. The zombies at the front door were probably gone by now, something else having taken their fancy. He relaxed; they were now in a building that was structurally a fortress, the perfect place to be in a horrible situation like this. Stopping to check a door, Ryan sighed with relief as he noticed it was the school kitchen and rushed in after taking a quick glance for any threat. He stopped at the nearest sink and ran the hot water but to his disappointment it ran cold. The electric heating must have been off. Regardless, he started wetting his face and scrubbing the blood off with a nearby sponge. The sound of the water hitting the metal basin drowned out any other sounds within the room, allowing something to enter the room and make its approach.

At the other side of the corridor, the rest of the small group entered one of the classrooms; Mark went first and stood in the doorway with his gun pointed ahead of him as his eyes scanned the room. It was dark like all the other rooms and just as silent. A sudden crash startled him, causing his body to jump in reflex as his eyes darted to the source of the crash. A beaker had been knocked off one of the desks by a pigeon. Observing the bird, he noticed it was feeding on the flesh of the corpse that was slumped over on the desk. He took a step forward, alerting the bird to his presence, causing it to take flight and rush out the hole in the boarded up window nearest to it. He relaxed and closed the door. It appeared the place was safer than they had first thought. That was until Seymour's voice called out from the far end of the corridor. Mark and Vincent quickly made their way to his location to see what the problem was. Their eyes followed along his arm and along the crowbar he was holding out to the window across from him. There was a large gap in the window, the glass was smashed and the broken boards lay on the floor beneath it. Something was in the building with them and it was something strong. That's when Vincent realised Ryan was missing and just before he could announce it to the others, a gunshot echoed through the empty corridor.

Ryan jumped as the zombie's body dropped to the floor after the bullet left the back of its skull. He turned to his left and came face to face with the barrel of a SIG-Sauer GSR Revolution handgun. He put his hands up, praying to God the owner didn't pull the trigger. He couldn't remember when but he had closed his eyes as he waited for his death. It didn't come. He opened his eyes and looked past the gun, his eyes falling upon a young man, probably of a university student. The young man was dressed head to toe in black. He wore a black sleeveless top under an unbuttoned black shirt and had a metal pole tucked into the belt that held up his black jeans. His black hair was very short at the sides but in the centre was longer and gelled up slightly. His eyes were an electric blue and glared at Ryan with ferocity. He never lowered his weapon, despite knowing Ryan wasn't bitten and wasn't one of the undead.

"Get out!" Came the stern, sudden command.

"What?" Ryan asked, confused.

"I said get out!" The young man answered, pressing the barrel into Ryan's forehead.

"Lower the gun, now!" Vincent's voice bellowed from the doorway.

The young man turned to face him but kept his gun where it was.

"Get out now, all of you!" He commanded. "And take the zombies who followed you with you!"

At that moment, some of the various boarded up windows smashed as arms started forcing themselves through the gaps in the wooden boards.

"They can't get in here and this place is big enough for all of us." Seymour tried to reason calmly.

"Do you understand English?" The young man retorted. "I said get out!"

He turned his attention back to Ryan long enough for Seymour to cover the distance between them. Seymour forced the young man's arm down and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall behind him.

"People are dying, the city has gone to hell and you want to act like a high and mighty fucking idiot?" Seymour exclaimed, all his patience gone. "We all need each other and we need cooperation!"

The young man attempted to remove Seymour's hand from his collar but couldn't match the ginger man's strength. He snarled at Seymour.

"I'm better alone!" He responded, glaring into Seymour's eyes.

"There's a big fucking hole in one of the windows, meaning something got in. Meaning your wooden boards didn't hold it back like they hold back those zombies." Seymour exclaimed angrily. "And you want us to leave?"

The young man opened his mouth to respond but Seymour interrupted, tightening his grip on the young man's collar.

"Now is not the time for you to be stubborn and proud, otherwise you're going to experience a lonely, agonising death!"

Seymour let go of the young man and took a few steps backwards, joining the others near the doorway. The young man adjusted his collar and looked at them before sighing.

"Before the power to the building went out, the television announced that the military blockades had failed. They had to do the same as they did with that Raccoon City in America and put an extreme quarantine in place. None of us are going to survive this, so what does it matter if I stay here alone?" He questioned with a cynical smirk.

"There's always a chance, so we have to try." Vincent reasoned in response.

The others nodded in agreement but were startled by a crash in one of the nearby rooms.

"What was that?" Ryan wondered aloud.

"The things that made the hole your friend shouted to me about." The young man answered, turning round to face the far side of the kitchen, his gun drawn.

They all waited in silence, holding their breaths. Another crash soon followed, this time closer to the kitchen door before they could hear the faint sound of hissing and growling. No zombies made such noises but Vincent recognised the sounds. They reminded him of the encounter in the hotel that nearly claimed his life and this very fact scared him. By the sounds of the approaching footsteps on the tiled floor, there was more than one of those strange creatures on their way to the kitchen. Everyone tensed when a shadow was cast across the glass of the far side door. A couple dull thuds sounded from the other side of the door followed by silence. Suddenly, the door came crashing off its hinges as a tall reptilian creature just like the one Vincent encountered before burst into the room. Behind it, two others stepped in, hissing and growling as they observed the room. The group gasped in shock, gobsmacked at what they were seeing. The creatures seemed to communicate with their hisses and growls, clearly demonstrating pack hunting behaviour as they became aware of the group on the other side of the room. The young man took a couple shots at the first creature but the bullets had little effect on the rough scaly skin of the reptilian monster. The creature let out a shriek and ran at him, attempting to slash him with its large claws. Fortunately, the young man managed to get out of the way, rolling over one of the counters just in time, sending pots and pans falling to the floor.

The others eyed the creatures, all their weapons at the ready but their attention was captured by the young man who had already got back on his feet.

"Leave now; I'll close the door behind us!" He shouted to them, running for the door.

The group unanimously agreed with him and rushed out the kitchen, hearing the doors slam behind them. The group ran down the corridor, not looking back until they had reached the end of the corridor, being wary of the zombie hands reaching through the gaps in the boards. Once they checked their surroundings, they realised the young man wasn't with them. He had left them behind. Ryan was about to go back but Vincent grasped his shoulder. Ryan looked at him, looking for an explanation but Vincent only shook his head slowly and turned back to the main door.

Back in the kitchen, the young man made sure the door was kept shut by locking it with his metal pole. The creatures had him cornered and jumped for him. He took a chance and dived forward, somehow avoiding them and rushed for the gas powered cookers, turning them on. He ran the length of the kitchen, turning them all on as fast as possible while taking pot shots at the creatures to hold them back. Once all the gas cookers were on, he took a box of matches out of his pocket and got them ready. He could have tried to run away but with three of these agile creatures he knew he would never get far. The best he could do was make sure he killed them. The creatures advanced towards him slowly, seemingly understanding that their prey wasn't going to get away of them. The young man smirked and lit the match.

The group heard something similar to an explosion and when they looked down the corridor, they saw a wall of flames burst through the jammed doors of the kitchen, the smell of burning meat was carried through the air as the fire intensified, setting light to the boarded up windows and burning the arms of the zombies. Deeming the burning building unsafe, both due to the fire and because of the attraction it would receive from the undead, the group made their quick but careful way out onto the street. Fortunately, most of the undead in the area were already at the university and were too focused with the windows to notice them slip by. Some zombies did notice them but were avoided easily enough to save ammo.

Further down the street, the smell of burning was still very strong thanks to the wind that swept down the street. The wind also carried newspapers and other light materials and objects down the street. One of these objects hit Ryan on the back of his head, causing him to flinch as it was hot. He turned round and bent down to pick it up from the road's surface. The plastic cover was badly burnt, but the paper inside had so far been preserved. He was shocked to see that it was a student ID. It belonged to the young man. Ryan looked at the others silently as they stared back, waiting for an explanation. Ryan let go of the ID and let it get carried away by the wind before looking back at the burning university.

"His name was Adrian." He said finally.

No other words needed to be spoken.

So I finally finished the chapter. It has taken so long due to a lack of motivation and a busy life but I promise to work on this a lot more. It's still rather slow because the good stuff is yet to happen. There will be a hint of such good stuff in the next chapter. Reviews give me motivation, so please review and let me know what you liked or didn't like.