Chapter Five
Day 3Wednesday 14th September 2022
8:02pm
Outside Southend Victoria Police Station
The journey to the station had been traitorous; fires had erupted down the high street, and screams of agony could be heard resounding through the town as people succumbed to the angry mobs of crazed individuals. Josh had kept Holly's head down the whole way, even two of the crazed men had attacked the car when it got caught in a jam, and had slobbered bloody saliva across one of the windows. Luckily, they had managed to pull away to safety, and were now approaching Southend Victoria Police Station, in all its glory. At the main entrance, an armoured van could be seen parked, with the words ARMED UNIT printed across its side. At the main entrance, a CO19 team of four armed officers were holding up their firearms at the approaching vehicle.
"Whoah, whoah, whoah!" Chris pulled the car to a stop as they approached it, showing his empty hands to the approaching police officers. The tallest opened the car door and looked around inside, and his companion remained trained upon Christopher. He unlatched the safety on his MP5 Sub Machine Gun as Chris reached inside his jacket pocket.
"Keep your hands where I can see them, sir!" He barked, spitting in Chris' face as he did so.
"Look," Chris continued, "keep your dick in your boxers – I'm a police officer. Detective Inspector Morgan, so if you don't mind?" He motioned towards the car park.
The CO19 officer glared thoughtfully at the inspector before aiming away from him and then nodding back to the other firearms officer standing by the entrance. "Can't be too sure at the moment, sir, with all of these maniacs running around. You should probably head inside, and have a word with the chief inspector; he'll be glad of any of the help he can get right now, we're stretched so thinly."
"Thank you, constable." Chris started the engine again. "And try not to scare any more children today, would you?" Holly sat in the back; her head nestled deeply into Saw, as she had been instructed on the journey here. He was impressed by her resolution, particularly given how scared they had all been themselves, and they all knew themselves that this was nothing to do with rioters.
The car pulled past through the gates and swerved around the corner into the car park. Several cars were parked awkwardly around the premises, spilling over the parking marks painted across the tarmac, some even stopped in positions that would prevent those they were next to from moving. A couple had windows that were smashed, and others had fresh scrapes and dents across them, adding to the confusion around the police station. Screams could be heard in the distance, as well as the sound of tyres screeching and cars crashing to unexpected halts.
Chris parked the car two spaces from his usual, given the fact a 4x4 was taking the position up. Despite the confusion, there was a distinct absence of police in the area trying to organise the civilians, although it appeared the armed guards had been doing a good job regulating those entering the station grounds. The grounds, themselves, were mostly concrete and tarmac, but the council had seen it suitable to plant decorative trees along the main path to the reception, as well as pleasant flora trailing around the two World War memorials. Lazy cleaners had left ivy to almost entirely envelop the Essex Police logo painted across the wall to the right of the entrance.
The group of five headed towards the glass doors, Holly in Joshua's arms, Saw next to them, and Daniel quietly shuffling at the back of the group, his eyes nervously twitching in his head. Chris could see at least two-dozen civilians sitting and standing around in the police lobby, some nursing each other's wounds, others reassuring panicking relatives, and a few sitting by themselves as they sobbed quietly to themselves. A few police officers were rushing around, carrying papers and equipment between rooms, with one wiry-haired sergeant taking charge amongst the group.
Sergeant Richards sighted Morgan and his companions immediately as they stepped through the entrance, making a beeline for them after slamming a pistol down on the main desk. The smile he had happily sported earlier was now absent, replaced instead by weary eyes and greasy skin. The officer had removed his tie, his sleeves were rolled up and his stab vest was now donned. "Guess we'll be seeing each other a bit sooner than tomorrow, eh, sir?" He looked at the others. "This probably wasn't the best place for you all to come, you know? Better than anyone, you're aware of how few officers we have in the station, and now all these people are just running up here and expecting us to protect 'em from those rioters!" One of the women sitting up against the back wall coughed up some blood. "And we're having to put up with this damned virus. Which, I might add," Richards threw a box of painkillers from his pocket to the women, "is taking its toll more than anything else at the moment. Our medical training is too basic for some of the wounds these guys have taken, too."
"Maybe I can help?" Saw stepped forward. "I've an overall of four years spent in Third World countries, helping relief forces with medicine and healthcare." Joshua's wife, her shoulder-length black hair flicking as he turned quickly, went over to the blood-spewing woman, who was growing paler by the second. The child next to her had a wound on his arm that had blood streaming from it, and had completely drenched the poorly held together bandage. "This is terrible," she muttered to herself. "He's been bitten… badly." She felt the other's forehead. "They're running fevers."
Her three male companions simply glared at one another in response, but were equally confounded by the fact that no one else seemed to be making the connection, or at least, they didn't want to make the connection.
"We've thrown every drug we've got at them, but nothing seems to be helping them. DI Morgan, I think you should go see the chief inspector." Richards passed a first aid box to Saw. "He's the highest rank still around… not that you would know it down here. He came in about two hours ago, all high and mighty to help us sort all this crap out, then he went up there, and has barely come down since."
"Alright." Chris nodded to the sergeant before turning back to the other three. "Dan, you stick with the Wongs, and I'll go see Burt." He smiled. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I also just need to pick something up from my office."
Joshua was the first to nod, and immediately set Holly down away from the other 'refugees', and sat down next to her, keeping her occupied. Daniel immediately went to Richards' side, helping him in his duties as Christopher walked away towards the stairwell. He adjusted his collar before looking over his shoulder one more time, eyeing the groaning civilians in the dim light of the police station; street lights outside were providing more light than those actually in the building, although this was no change from normal. Despite his expectations of safety, the familiar cream walls did little to ease his mind.
On his way along the corridor, Chris passed a window. Outside, the armed officers could be seen looking down the road, which was surprisingly empty for the chaos that could literally be heard in the distance. Cars attempted to weave in and out of one another down roads, and some of the 'rioters' could be heard. The night sky was becoming cloudy, and the temperature was beginning to drop – it had been said that this was going to be a cold winter and autumn.
Chief inspector Burt King was sitting quietly, by himself, in the Superintendent's office. Against all regulations, he was smoking a cigarette, and had a gun resting on the desk he sat at. The office was a nice size, and there were beautiful landscape portraits of seaside scenery adorning the walls, as well as a well-furnished bookcase by the entrance, with all manner of police guides and historical tomes littering the shelves. On the desk Burt sat at, a well-sized photograph sat nestled in a golden frame, the superintendent and his family standing in front of the Eiffel Tower could be seen beaming back at the taker of the photograph. With his free hand, Burt carefully stroked his greying beard, and his brown eyes remained closed until Chris knocked on the door, almost startling the older officer. "Who is it?"
"Inspector Morgan, sir. Can I come in?"
Burt took one long drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out on the desk, not caring that it left a scorched circle on his superior's furniture. "Go for it, inspector."
Chris stepped in, and was immediately taken back by Burt's appearance – the usually well-kempt and orderly man was now quite the opposite. His thinning hair was tangled, his eyes bloodshot, and the smell of tobacco was thick in the air, with several cigarette butts littering the tiled floor. "Sergeant Richards says you've not come down since arriving, sir. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Burt laughed as he pulled another cigarette from inside his dress uniform jacket, lighting it with a silver-finish Zippo lighter, that he quickly placed back in front of him, before quickly offering Morgan one as an afterthought.
"I'd rather not, sir. Only the odd celebratory cigar for me."
The superior officer chuckled once again. "There's not much to celebrate about, is there, Morgan? And I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to help," his voice was sickly sweet, with a strong sarcastic tone. "Although it's a very kind offer, inspector."
Chris' eyes flashed at the attitude, with him struggling to hold his tongue, even in this situation. "With all due respect, sir," he started, through gritted teeth, "you're the highest ranking officer on scene. You should be down there running the show – not leaving it to overworked and tired desk sergeants!"
"You don't think I came here with that very intention, to actually help with all this shit going on out there?" Burt motioned out of the glass window behind him that acted as the wall, overlooking the pathway up to the station. "I rushed here, left my sickly wife at home along, to try and be of some help to these brave men and women here, as soon as I saw the rioters outside. I get here, fending off whacko mobs on the way, start calling the shots and get everyone organised, only to have this document," Burt thrust a large brown envelope across the desk towards Chris, "shoved in my face as soon as I walk in." The chief inspector waved at it. "Take a look for yourself." Chris stepped over for closer inspection. Large red letters were printed across the front of the document, labelled 'EMERGENCY'. "Here's me thinking: 'great - the government's doing something about this. Maybe we can sort this, but oh no… nothing of the likes." Chris turned the first page over, immediately met by images of bruised, bloody and, simply, rabid individuals, as well as diagrams of black and white men attacking one another, scratching, punching and biting, with the first and last circled in big red ink. 'PANDEMIC' was printed at the top of every page. "It says," another sick laugh, "that these rioters are 'ill'… that they're not really mobs of angry people, but instead… well, you're a clever boy. Figure it out for yourself."
"America."
"America." Burt confirmed, a creepy smile enveloping his craggy face. "It seems the old virus has crossed the pond. See why I'm sitting here now? Smoking every last one of these bastard things before I make peace with my nine millimetre? We're fucked, inspector, and I'd rather die with dignity than be chomped on by a member of the bleedin' public!"
Chris continued to leaf through the document. It didn't say anything of any orders, or of how it started, or of what to do in any way; it detailed only that they should be avoided at all costs, and if possible, terminated. Pictures seemed to make up most of it all, with a few curious images of patients with tumour-like growths, and sickly fluids seeping from their bodies. X-rays depicted deformed skeletal growths, also, in some patients. "So you're just going to sit here?"
"Like I said. Maintain some dignity. Why? Where am I gonna go? My wife's got that bloody flu thing, so she's infected, and I don't have any kids! I'm happy where I am." Burt looked into his cigarette box. "Only one left, anyway."
"You're a police officer, Burt! You should be down there helping those people protect themselves and fight back! You've got a gun – it's as that said, we need to terminate any of those things if they get too close, and we have the capability to do that, to save lives!"
"Did you see the ones down there, coughing and spluttering? Puking up blood? They're going to turn, too, you know? Chances are, you will, as well. I'm fucked if I'm sticking around those bastards, just so they can spas out and take a chunk out of me. I've got my plan sorted." He patted his gun carefully, no sign of remorse on his face.
"Look, we've got men outside with MP5s guarding us, you've got your gun, a few officers downstairs are armed, and there's bound to be more in the evidence room. I have a pistol in my office, so just stay here, get your bullets, and I'll come back to get you. We'll get downstairs and help the others." Even before his superior could reply, Chris was darting down the corridor to where the Serious Crimes Unit lay. Inside, all of the lights were off, and the desks were empty. No cases had been taken up during the day, and the blank white board reflecting this. At the end of the room, another small room lay, with glass windows looking into the pitch-black office, the blinds pulled. Across the glass-paned door, the words 'DI MORGAN' were written.
Chris pulled a small shiny key from within his Crombie, the blue tag matching the blue sticker above the lock his office door, and he opened the door with a satisfying click. He turned the light on, and stepped behind the mahogany desk he had had delivered from his house, the piece of ornate furniture originally belonging to his granddad. Through the use of another key, the inspector opened one of the drawers to the side, and reached inside, pulling a square leather box from within, as well as three small cardboard boxes that he rest next to the larger. Inside, red velvet lined the box's walls, protecting Chris' 'own little piece of America', as he had always called it.
The mass of the silver Colt Python .357 magnum revolver was satisfyingly heavy in the police officer's hand. Holding it by its wooden grip, Chris loaded six bullets from the cardboard box into the revolver's barrel, then spinning in before locking back into place. From the coat hanger, he retrieved his holster, and tied it around his left shoulder, firmly slotting the Python into place before looking over his office once more. On his desk, the picture of him, Samantha and their three children smiled back at him, spurring him to pull the picture from its frame and begin folding it to put it in his pocket, before he heard the cracking of a pistol being fired.
"Shit!" He swore as he ran out of his office, almost collapsing into one of the desks in his hurried exit. Chris smacked down the door to the superintendent's office just as Joshua and an unknown constable arrived to see Burt lying motionless, collapsed over the desk, blood running from his head over all of the paperwork detailing the infection, and dripping onto the floor. Blood, brains and bone was spattered across the wall of fine paintings, and the picture of the superintendent's family had been turned away, with a lone cigarette still smouldering amongst the other butts.
"Jesus Christ!" Joshua's eyes were wide and worried behind his glasses, and he turned away just in time to cover his mouth with his hand, holding back any vomit that may have passed his lips and onto the police constable's shoes. His throat burned as he restrained himself at the sight. Before either Chris or the PC could speak, the popping of more gunfire could be heard, this time from outside of the station. The trio stepped over to the window, avoiding the spreading blood pool on the floor, and noticed the CO19 officers firing their SMGs at approaching infected individuals.
"Bollocks." Chris instinctively drew his revolver, as well as prying the 9mm pistol from Burt's hand. "Get down there!" He shouted at the PC before passing the chief's gun to Josh. "Josh, take this. I'm just going to get you the ammo for it." The consideration of having to put his hand in Burt King's pocket repulsed him, particularly given the fact he would have to pull the body backwards on the chair to reach his intended target. "Oh God…" he whimpered slightly as the gingerly brought Burt backwards in his chair, making his head flop backwards, and more blood dripping to the floor as a result. Chris avoided looking at the large, red hole in his former superior's head as his hand crept into Burt's inside pocket, pulling out two spare magazines and a few individual bullets from inside that he quickly passed to his friend.
"You do know I've never fired a gun before, Chris." Josh looked solemnly at his friend, and bemusedly at the weapon now in his hand.
"That is a Browning HP 9mm pistol – it's not regulation, but it's simple. It's already got bullets in it, and we don't have time for me to show you how to use it." He looked out of the window, and was increasingly alarmed by the number of infected charging at the station; a huge horde of them was screaming and sprinting from the other end of the road. "We need to get downstairs and leave now. We won't be able to stop all of them. Get down there, get the girls and Dan, and run to the car. Use the rear exit and don't slow down."
Joshua nodded, but a confused look grew on his face. "You not coming with us?"
"I'm going to grab what we can from downstairs and will meet you there." Chris passed his car keys to the teacher. "Just don't leave without me."
The pair rushed down the stairs, the sound of gunfire louder and closer now as they entered the main lobby again. By the doors, Sergeant Richards could be seen firing his pistol towards those that were getting closer. The CO19 officers appeared to be struggling to hold so many off; the infected mob was relentless, continually charging, ignoring the bullets that didn't cripple or kill them, not stopping in their pursuit of their prey. Joshua immediately ran to Saw and Holly, picking the little girl up and taking his wife by the hand, literally dragging her away from one man who had begun to shake and tremble, with froth spurting from his torn mouth.
"No, Stephanie! He's gone! We need to go! Daniel! Get over here!" Daniel's crazed eyes were focused on the attackers now getting closer and closer to the station, each time the officers reloaded giving them time to close the distance. "Daniel!" He snapped out of it with a shake of his head, and he panicked slightly at the sight of the shaking man, and the jolting bodies scattered around the room, as if they had been awoken suddenly. He quickly joined the Wongs and ran down the unlit corridor with them.
Chris felt his grip on the Colt tighten at the sight of the infected humans in the station beginning to stir, reminiscent of Matt at the radio station. He knew what was going to happen. Just as he was about to call out to Sergeant Richards, the child that had been bleeding earlier leapt onto him, burying his snapping jaws into his neck and sending him falling with a great thud. He accidentally let off a shot that flew straight into one of the other officers, distracting the one closest to the scene, who immediately turned his fire onto the boy, panicking in the heat of the moment. As he did so, Chris sighted the MP5's spray hit Richards in the temple, killing him in an explosion of blood. The other remaining armed officer screamed as he was trampled, beaten and dismembered by the rampaging horde, ripping away at his body, even through his body armour. The final CO19 man walked backwards into the station as he fired his last few rounds into the mob, until his MP5 clicked in defeat, and he too was overrun.
Momentarily mesmerised by the chaos rapidly approaching him, Chris grabbed one of the first aid kits and followed the direction his friends had taken. Behind him, intelligible yaps and screams echoed after him, as the pounding of feet followed him. The monsters were unrelenting in their pursuit, chasing him all of the way to the end and through the fire escape to the car park, where the inspector sharply turned a corner towards his BMW, where Josh stood by the driver's side, aiming his gun at a few of the infected who had turned to intercept him from the front, but not firing.
"Get in the car!" Chris screamed at Joshua as he approached, sprinting faster the closer he knew he was to them. He narrowly avoided one hooded figure who tried to claw him smacking him hard with his clenched left fist, and managed to get into the car, Joshua promptly firing up the car, pulling away with a loud screech towards the battered gates. The PMH blared loud noises, and the whole windscreen lit up red as the infected crowd launched itself at the car, with Joshua bravely managing not to falter as he knocked them out of the way, unluckily snapping one wind mirror off as he managed to steer them off of the police grounds.
Through the back window, Daniel could plainly see some of the horde chasing them, whilst others were crowding around within the police station, tearing apart those still unfortunate to be alive inside. Their ear piercing screams, however, quickly faded, joining the new vocal melody that had engulfed the entirety of Great Britain, and could be heard wherever from wherever one might be.