The Virus, Lee, Damien [summer beach reads .txt] 📗

grip. The shotgun fell as she slipped from the ledge. She let out a shriek as she fell through the air, a weightless experience that abruptly ended when she hit the ground.

“Shit, are you alright?” Ben cast a concerned glance over his shoulder before looking back into the building. He fired another shot as Amy rose to her feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

She gently applied weight to her throbbing ankle. The pain was prominent, but not enough to prevent her from walking. She heard Ben approach.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She hobbled to the car as Ben shot the last cow that ventured outside. The rest, Amy assumed, were in the building. She looked back towards the circular window in Gordon Chesterfield’s office. There was nobody there. She wondered whether he was still alive or if the cows had administered his warped view of justice. She glanced at Ben and found him staring at the window too.

“I’m sorry, Ben.”

“No sweat.”

As they entered the car, Ben handed her his rifle. She placed both weapons in the footrest as he turned the car around. With a roar of the engine, they raced away from the gore-filled slaughterhouse. Amy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the old man they had left behind, but something about his story didn’t seem to add up. Her brows furrowed as the reason dawned on her.

“Y’know I don’t think your dad did start all this.”

“What do you mean? He sent infected meat all over the UK.”

“I know, but how did the meat become infected?”

“His friend’s cattle were slaughtered.”

“Yeah, but by what?”

She knew the realisation had hit as soon as Ben’s eyes widened.

“So we know how it spread across the country, but what started it?”

***

Gordon sat back in his chair, watching the red sports car drive off into the distance. The prospect of his actions leading to his daughter’s death was something he could not bear. He remembered the phone call like it was yesterday.

“Gordon, it’s Harry.” The elderly man’s voice had quivered, fighting back tears as he spoke.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“It’s my cattle. They’ve been slaughtered.”

“Slaughtered? By who?”

“A fucking lunatic. He’s torn them apart!”

“What?”

“I came out to check on them and they’ve all been ripped apart. Some were still alive, but I had to kill them; their guts were hanging out. Then I saw the psycho crouched next to one. He was eating it! He looked up when I got near and just… smiled at me. He was covered in blood and still had raw meat in his mouth.”

“Harry,” Gordon said. “Is this a wind up?”

“Does it sound like a fucking wind up, Gordon? I blew his head off!”

“What?”

“He got up and came at me. I had to shoot him. It was self-defence, Gordon, I swear!”

“You need to ring the police, Harry.”

“The police? He was unarmed. They’ll do me for murder!”

Harry burst into tears, sobbing down the phone. Gordon sat back in his chair, staring out at the moors.

“It doesn’t make a difference, anyway.” Harry snivelled, “I had over eighty cows. All gone. I’m ruined.”

Gordon sat forward, grabbing his schedule from the desk.

“Look, Harry, I can help you out. I’ll suspend all deliveries today. Load them up and start bringing them here. I’ll get them treated, chopped up and distributed”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. But listen, I’m putting my neck out for you here. You can’t tell a soul, understand?”

“But how will you do it? Some of them have been completely stripped.”

“Just bring them all down. I’ll work out something when I see them.”

“What about the crazy bastard I shot?”

“Dig a big hole and bury him. If somebody comes looking, feign ignorance. I’ll do the same.”

“Thanks, Gordon. You have no idea how much this means.”

“You’ll obviously make a loss, Harry. But if it keeps you from going bust, then that’s all that matters, right?”

“Right.”

“Good, start bringing them down and I’ll see what I can do.”

He had hung up the phone and emitted an agonised moan. He rose to his feet and retrieved a quarter-full bottle of whisky from the shelf. He had poured himself a drink and pondered long and hard how he would distribute the meat.

Gordon held the new bottle of whisky to his mouth and took a hefty swig. He considered how things could have been different had he not helped Harry. Was he still alive? Was he aware he’d played a part in creating the chaos? Or was he now partaking in it?

The first undead animal stepped into the office, breaking his contemplation. He looked at the young cow with a sneer.

“You gotta be bigger than that if you wanna take me.”

The cow took another step before he shot the animal between the eyes. He looked back out of the window as the undead creature crumpled to the floor. The sports car was no longer in sight, leaving the vast landscape completely still. He stared out at the endless fields, thinking about his daughter. He felt empty inside, despite a stomach full of whisky. A guttural growl announced the arrival of a second cow.

“No chance.”

He shot the animal before it stepped into his office. He looked down the neck of the bottle as he took another swig. The sloshing liquid cast an amber tint over the next animal that entered the room. Gordon set down the bottle and stared at the large cow.

“Well, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?”

The crazed heifer watched him with wide eyes. Its lipless mouth formed a permanent snarl as it stepped over the dead cows. Gordon turned, busying himself with another bottle of alcohol. The undead animal stepped forward, like a tiger stalking its prey.

“I think me and you should go down in a blaze of glory.”

Gordon soaked his handkerchief in the