This contains all we have been able to find on the events of the past few years. It is a collection of accounts both found, and told by, travellers we have met along the way. This is our history. Our legacy. The only known account of the fall of mankind. If you have found this book, then we did not make it.
We are travelling to a small island off the coast of Wales, Ramsey Island where farmland, docks and a lighthouse promise a safe place to live. With food scare, we have decided to first visit the Millennium Seed Bank in Wakehurst. Without seeds to plant crops we would not last long once we made it. No one wants to go anywhere near London the way it is now, but it may well be the only place in the country that still has viable seeds. If we did not make it, and you have found this book, then you may be mankind’s last hope. Do not give up.
Chapter One: The Beginning
In 2015, East Russia, Scientists working on top secret government projects announced the discovery of a cure for Alzheimer's, as an act of world peace, the formula was distributed to government and aid agencies worldwide. With scientists baffled by the origin of this new drug, they soon discovered it works in a way not previously considered. It appears to regenerate brain cell growth, however instead of stimulating cells to repair themselves; it encouraged damaged cells to die, and new cells to grow in their place. This results in massive memory loss in subjects, however enabled them to relearn, and maintain, new memories.
After a few short term studies, it was determined this could be used as a vaccine, and if administered on a global/nation level, would prevent the onset of Alzheimer’s in 100% of patients at the small cost of sacrificing a few “faulty” cells. Although the new cells did not retain the memory of the cells they replaced, they were able to communicate with each other in a much faster, and more effective, manner than their naturally occurring counterparts. This meant any new information learnt could be retained better, and was easier to recall. In addition to this, it was also noted it made a massive difference to patients suffering from a wide variety of mental problems. Of course everyone wanted it.
16 years later. The UK was over populated. Overcrowding becomes a serious issue as elderly people were able to stay in their own homes, caring for themselves, most people previously classified as mentally handicapped, requiring full time residential nursing, were able to make a full recovery and gradually be re-integrated into work. Life expectancy was up by 15 years and counting, as people lived to record ages. It was not possible to sustain a population this large, and just five week ago unemployment and inflation reached levels not seen previously since WW2. People were starving, and not just here, everywhere.
A few weeks ago they introduced further rationing, and it started. It was just peaceful protests to begin with, but then the riots began. People took to looting and burning, it happened gradually at first, just the odd case here and there, and then the flood gates opened. 11 days ago, after barricading themselves inside their small corner shop in Newbury, it was burnt to the ground with the owners and their two small children still trapped inside. A firebomb identical to the one used just 2 days later to torch a CAB in Kent was used in the attack. So far these can be linked to over 300 attacks worldwide, and as petrol prices rise higher than ever, the origin of these bombs remained a mystery. With social unrest reaching unprecedented levels, the prime minister was getting desperate, and announced his decision to fly to Eastern Russian that evening to meet World Leaders attempting to resolve this global population crisis.
At 5.45am the following morning, Prime Minister Legdeway returned from Eastern Russian and announced to the country that “Things have gone too far, we cannot go on this way, something must be done!” By 6.30am similar announcements had been made by over half the countries in Europe, gradually it dawned on us; no one was coming to help. As global panic spread, rioting became more and more prevalent with thousands of angry citizens gathering in every capital. Rumours of cannibalism spread like wildfire as people were starving to death outside abandoned supermarkets. We were at the brink of collapse. I can see why they made the call, anyone who saw what it was like could understand, I don’t think they ever thought it would lead to this. At exactly 1.14pm it happened. Unmarked fighters jets flew in formation across every major city, and at precisely 1.14pm, dropped their loads on millions of unsuspecting civilians. Gas filled the streets obscuring the once lively cities in a deathly shroud of grey silence. That should have been the end of it.
If it was, I think everyone would have understood. It was a long time ago that we gave up on each other, and with millions dead, the populations should have been back at a maintainable level.
But that was only the beginning.
Swat teams were airlifted into every “Prescribed Burning” area to “clear the deadwood”. Teams of nine, each dropped at junctions all across the city were to assess the situation. No one is quite sure what happened to them, they never made it to the checkpoints, they never radioed in. So they sent more, more brave young men in to that hell hole. Two days later, Captain Jamie Winsford, age 32, made it back only to collapse at the blockade. What he saw, no man should have to witness, most certainly not as many as did in the coming weeks. It took hours for him to regain consciousness, but when he did, he shocked the world.
His 9-man team had landed in a small residential backwater expecting to see the dead littering the streets only to find London deserted, not a soul, not a flicker, not even a body. His initial thought was the first team had landed here and started work, but a quick check in with the other teams confirmed it, everyone was gone. They began to check the surrounding houses, what he found here was even more chilling. Not a sign, not a soul, not a flicker. Not a single person, living or dead, anywhere. They were just leaving the 3rd house when someone gave a shout,
“Over here, there’s a cellar”
They all filed into the pokey backroom, guns pointed at a small trap door peeking out from under a tatty old carpet. In absolute silence, they gave the countdown, 3, 2, 1, and yanked it open, everyone stood still, stunned. The cellar was full of cans; there was beans, soup, tomatoes, enough to last a small family a good few months. Who would leave this behind? Then suddenly, there was a mad scramble, as just for a moment everyone forgot why they were there, and began filling their pockets. It was somewhere amongst all this confusion, a shadow passed over the window, a crash came from the garden, and a figure loomed in the back door way.
“Ma’am are you ok?” someone asked, to which there came no reply.
“Ma’am, there has been an incident; this is now a restricted zone, we have orders to ensure the city is cleared of all civilians.”
Slowly the figure raised her head, her hair was matted and tangled, her worn out dress was muddy and torn, her dead glassy eyes seemed empty as she held the soldiers gaze. Then she lunged, she lurched across the kitchen towards to back room, staggering and falling part way. Private Nick Langsley rushed over to help her to her feet, as he put his arm around her; she fell onto him nearly knocking him down. She was like a newborn animal, struggling to walk for the first time. The private helped her to her feet, and went to sit her down at the kitchen table. As he was lowering her into a chair, Nick gave a cry,
“She bit me! The bitch just bit me arm”
She sat there, very slowly licking blood from her lips. No one moved,
“Are you alright Nick?” The captain called to him.
Slowly Nick lifted his hand from the gash on his arm, blood was dripping round his forearm and pooling at his feet. Before anyone had chance to move she leapt at him again, pushing him to the floor and sinking her teeth into his neck.
Fear grabbed hold of his insides as Captain Winsford struggled to pull the manic woman off his Private. He had never encountered strength like this, how could a woman who could barely walk lock her jaws on to a man with such ferocity.
“Will someone damn well shoot her?” he snapped at his men.
With a look of timid uncertainty one of them drew his SIG pistol, and lifted the gun. That is when it dawned on Jamie, these were not real soldiers. These new recruits had signed up in the winter, when the hungry bitterness sapped the morality out of you and you would sign just about anything for the promise of a meal. Had these men even seen combat before? Probably not, this was supposed to be a harrowing, but ultimately conflict free mission to clear bodies from the street. They would have sent whoever they could spare. Jamie spoke more softly now,
“Whoever she was, she isn’t now,”
Private Brak held his gaze for just a second, before pulling the trigger. At this close range her head almost exploded from the impact, showering the kitchen in a tinge of red. It didn’t matter anymore, they were too late; Private Nick Langsley lay, motionless, his glass eyes staring up at them.
The roar of the shot echoed around the ghostly streets, leaving a ringing silence in its place. As the ringing began to fade, it became more of a rumbling in the distance. Captain Jamie Winsford was shoving the body off that of his Private when something at the back of his mind began to niggle at him. That is when he noticed it. The rumbling was getting louder.
A flash went through his mind. One month ago, the hunger march through London, thousands of starving people had gathered together to peacefully march to Downing Street after rumours of stockpiling food. They never even got close. They were about 6 streets away when Jamie’s unit got the order to open fire. They wouldn’t stop. They just kept on coming. He would never forget that sound, the sound of thousands of people marching silently onwards shattered by the whir and crack of automatic weapons. Afterwards he had always wondered, why no one stopped, or screamed, or turned back. I guess deep down he knew the answer, they all chose their fate. A soldier’s true curse; his memories.
Shaking his head, Jamie was back in the moment, the distance rumbling had almost turned into a menacing growl as it got ever louder, ever closer. Instinct took over.
“Defensive Positions, I want all these windows covered, do not open fire until I give the command” Jamie called.
Without a word his men leapt into action, this is what they had trained for.
“I want eyes on the enemy,” Jamie briefed his men “I want to know who and what we are dealing with, someone get on the radio, see if we can’t get back up or an evac or something”
He stationed three men upstairs to keep watch down the street, two at the front, one at the back, and the other four downstairs covering the windows. Jamie’s radio crackled to life as Private Joe Mason’s voice filled the air
“I am not getting any answer from the other teams, either no one is still out there, or they are maintaining radio silence, over”
Jamie lifted his radio, “Copy that, Keep trying,” he responded, In terms of defensible positions, a terrace house was not one. “You hold the line, I don’t like this, I’m going to scout out a place to fall back to” said Captain Winsford continued, “You see so much as a blade of grass move, you radio me, you got it? Over”
With that he began to assess their position. The garden had a fence, maybe 5 foot high. They could clear it if they had to, but where then? No a row of tiny fenced in gardens was a death trap; a large mob could easily push over fences, or be waiting for them at the end of the row. What about the cellar? It was clearly hand dug, maybe it led to a tunnel. Jamie made his way into the small back room, with most of the tins removed, the cellar was obviously just that, it had been dug out by desperate hands, and although curved like someone had intended to continue, was a dead end. “Captain,” Came a whisper over the radio, “you are gunna wanna see this”
Captain Winsford made his way upstairs and into the front bedroom,
“What you got there soldier?”
Without a word, the Private gestured at his scope, kneeling down, Jamie looked. The L96 sniper rifle was aimed straight through the window of the house across the street, and on to the next street over. It took his brain a moment to process what he was seeing; the sea of bloody, matted faces barely looked human. They were so close. Without taking his eyes off them, he lifted his radio to his mouth “We have incoming” he whispered, “do not open fire until I give the signal, with any luck, they may not even know we are here”.
For a minute, Jamie stared transfixed down the scope, watching the jittery movements as each person appeared to be dragging themselves on. Jamie turned to the two men next to him,
“I want this street covered, and Private Mason, I want to know as soon as they make the turn”
With that Jamie stood up, leaving the sniper rifle aimed at the front gate, intending to check on the positions of his other men. As he came out on to the landing, he noticed an attic door. He was torn for a moment, should he see if they would be able to fall back here? Or should he get a move on and make sure his men were ready? They would be here any second, no, he needed to have faith in his men, they would hold the line, they would not open fire on anyone without orders, they would be ready.
Having made up his mind, Jamie reached up and pulled down the attic door, the ladder gave a clatter as it fell down. Jamie froze, and pulled out his radio,
“We ok?” he asked,
“I got eyes on them,” came Joe Mason’s hushed response.
In silence, he made his way back into the front bedroom,
“How close?” he murmured.
A faint groaning came from outside, as the Private turned to him and whispered “They’re here...”
Jamie looked down the street and saw hundreds of people, as pale and bloody as the dead woman downstairs, hauling their bodies towards them.
“Hold your positions”
Jamie gave the order over the radio, as to his horror, he heard the front door click open. He watched, mortified as one of his men, Private George Chambers, only 24, approached the crowd.
“I need everyone to calmly return to their homes,” his voice echoed in through the open window “there has been an incident; this is now a restricted area. If everyone could please just return to their homes, help will...”
The private stopped mid-sentence as the members of the crowd began to reach out, grabbing at him. Stumbling backwards, George drew his pistol and began firing into the crowd,
“Cover him!”
Captain Winsford ordered over the radio. Shots began to rain down as the soldier staggered back towards the house.
“Get him inside, and fall back here”
Somehow Jamie’s order seemed lost amongst the chaos. As the private made it back through the gate, something grabbed hold of his arm, George raised his gun, but the empty click of this Sig pistol told him he had used his 15 rounds. Struggling with his one free hand, he ejected the mag, and reached for another. It was while he was glancing at the magazine on his belt, that thing lifted Private George Mason’s hand to his mouth and ripped out a chunk of flesh.
His scream seemed to echo forever in to the distance as he disappeared under a writhing mass of dirty bodies. Afterwards, Jamie often wondered, did his scream out live him? He hoped so.
“Fall back, Now!”
Jamie called through the house. The three men left downstairs, Alex, Liam and Dean, grabbed their guns, and rushed towards the stairs. Private Alex Woodbury hesitated, just for a moment, and his eyes flicked across the room to the bag of can’s they had abandoned by the front door. He turned and looked at Liam
“I have to” He said, as he turned and went back for it.
Jamie found out later Private Woodbury had a little girl, she was dying. Kids found it the hardest, living off whatever scraps could be found, and most of them never made it past infancy. I guess that is why he joined up. Just as Alex reached the bag, the front door came crashing down, crushing him under the weight of bodies forcing their way in. Dean and Liam did not stay long enough to find out what happened to him after that.
Jamie stood on the landing, preparing to send his men up into the attic, “Privates Woodbury, Brak, Corporal Lockly, we have to move” he called down the stairs, just as the crash told him the front door had given way. With that he saw Corporal Dean Lockly and Private Liam Brak running up the stairs, no sign of Alex. Captain Winsford knew better than to ask.
With Dean and Liam clear, he grabbed a tear gas canister from his belt, and tossed it down the stairs.
“That should confuse them, slow them down at least” Jamie said, “I will take point, and you” he turned to Private Joe Mason, “Bring up the rear”
Pulling out his flashlight, Jamie climbed the dusty old ladder in to the attic, a quick sweep round,
“All clear, come on up, one at a time, the ladder won’t hold” he called down.
Making his way back over to the hatch, Jamie reached down and pulled Private Liam Brak up the rest of the way. On the floor below, Private Mason was shining his torch into the wisps of gas seeping up the stairs, “Come on guys, get a move on” he said as Dean started on the ladder.
“There’s something down there”
Someone whispered as Joe peered down into the foggy abyss. He backed up, keeping his gun trained on a dark patch in the haze.
“Is that…” murmured Private Mason, “is that Nick…?”
A hand, dripping with blood, began to reach through the gas.
“It is! It’s Private Langsley,” cried Joe, turning to the soldier next to him “Well, what are you waiting for?! Help him!”
Privates Ricky Taylor and Thomas Goulding rushed over to Nick, and each with an arm round him, began to help him up the stairs. They had barely taken two steps when Private Langsley swung around and fell on Private Taylor, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him. Private Mason froze, transfixed, watching Nick pin down a man he had worked with for months, clawing and biting at his face, undeterred by Private Goulding desperately trying to drag him off.
Nick sank his fingers into Ricky’s cheek, and ripping out a chunk of flesh, hungrily started to cram it into his mouth. Private Taylors piercing scream rang throughout the building, only to be answered by the rumbling of feet approaching the stairs. Joe watched in horror, unable to move, as Private Nick Langsley proceeded to turn round to face Thomas who urgently trying to restrain him. Without hesitation, Nick grabbed Private Goulding and flung them both down the stairs. Private Joe Mason tried to call out, but his voice wouldn’t come to him, he watched, helpless as the gradually clearing gas revealed more figures lurching up the stairs towards them.
Suddenly a hand grasped hold of Joe's jacket and yanked him up towards the attic hatch. The abrupt jolt seemed to come from nowhere, and he began to kick and flail for his life as he was being jerked upwards.
Within seconds Joe was back in the moment, his panic subsided, and grabbing hold of Jamie’s hand, he began to struggle up the ladder towards him. Just as he was wriggling through the hatch, Private Mason felt a searing pain shoot through his leg; he looked down, and straight into the glassy empty eyes of a young girl. She couldn’t have been more than 14, her matted hair still had a little pink ribbon knotted into it, her mouth was still dripping with blood as she lent forward to bite him again. Before her teeth had chance to break the skin once more, with one almighty pull, Jamie, Liam & Dean dragged him up into the attic.
“Private Brak,” whispered Jamie, “you get the hatch closed; I don’t want any of those things getting up here.” Then turning back to Joe, said “You’re okay there, we are gunna get you outta here, don’t you worry”
Corporal Dean Lockly began fishing about in his pack, “I have a kit in here somewhere, we will get you patched up no trouble”
Private Mason gave a groan as Jamie lowered him down under the eaves. And then it started. The scratching. The scrape of finger nails, cracking and breaking over the wooden hatch, all that separated Captain Jamie Winsford and his men from certain death.
Chapter 2: The virus
Corporal Dean Lockly pulled out his medi-care kit, “What have we got then?”
Jamie carefully pulled away what remained of the left leg of Joe’s standard issue service trousers revealing his bloody, shredded leg.
“Okay Private Mason” Jamie began, “I need you to remain calm and focus for me. Dean here is going to stitch you up good and proper, and we will have you outta here in no time, but first, I need you to tell me what happened down there”
Joe held Captain Winsfords gaze for a second before looking away,
“I…” he stammered, “I… I don’t know, it happened so fast. It was Nick. Nick’s down there, we gotta… but it wasn’t, it wasn’t Nick, Captain I, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Jamie eye’s met Liam’s, giving him a sharp look, as Private Brak murmured “Nick’s dead”.
Jamie turned back to Private Mason, “Calm down soldier, look at me, I need to know what happened, I need to know what we are up against.”
Joe took a deep breath, and met Captain Winsford’s eyes, “They, they weren’t people, well they were, but they weren’t. It was like all that made them, them, was gone and all that was left was hunger. I don’t know how to explain it sir. They were… I don’t know, that girl, her eyes. There was no life…” Joe tailed off as his blank gaze slowly drifted away from Captain Winsford,
“You did good,” Jamie said, “You did good Joe, it’s okay now,” then turning to Dean, “Give him the meds, let’s get him stitched and bound and the hell outta here”
Corporal Lockly fumbled about in his Medi-care kit, looking for the nasal spray. Painkillers, standard issue, one squirt and the drugs went to work straight away, highly effective - they block the pain receptors in the brain, but a soldier flying high on painkillers was no use to anyone. Dean hesitated, then, seeing the look of hopeless despair in Joe’s eye, gave in, and administered the spray. He was wiping out the mangled wound on Joe’s leg when he paused and looked closely, there was a chunk missing,
“Captain,” Corporal Lockly whispered, “I am not sure I am going to be able to stitch this”
Jamie turned back to him, “Get the Celox Gauze bandage on it, it will clot the blood, prevent the bleeding, we can sort it out later”
Dean carefully wrapped Private Mason’s leg in the bandage, but a vacant look began to creep over his face. The discoloration around Joe’s wound was getting worse and thanks to the med’s, there was no way of seeing how with it he was.
Jamie crawled across the attic room to where Private Brak was holding the trap door in place with terrified determination. He did not have to ask why, he could still hear the persistent scratching, and hair raising cracking of nails scraping at the door.
“Ok Liam, we need a plan, he is not going to last here”
Liam’s concerned eye’s met his.
“The radio is still down,” he said “no answer from anyone”
Jamie pulled his street map out of his bag, and began to locate their current position as Private Brak leant over,
“Captain… sir, I know it’s not my place but Nick, he was dead, I was sure of it,”
“I know Liam,” Captain Winsford interrupted, “I would not have left him, not for a minute, if I thought he was still alive”
Shaking his head, Liam continued, “But he wasn’t. He wasn’t still alive, he was dead, we all saw it…” he tailed off.
In silence, Captain Winsford continued to trace his finger over his drop-zone map, until he could not bear the sound of Joe gently groaning, almost in rhythm, with the methodical scratching on the door.
“I don’t know what happened, all I know, is we have an injured man here who needs serious medical attention, and it’s up to us to get him to it,” Jamie said, trying to take control of the fear gathering in the dim attic.
Still, Liam could not shake the feeling that something else was going on,
“Nick was dead, he was dead I know he was, but, then, but then he wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive, you saw the way he lunged at the men down there, that wasn’t Nick.” Turning to Jamie he continued “He was, he was some kind of… some kind of… monster”
Captain Winsford knew what Liam was thinking, he had been thinking it for the past few minutes, dead people don’t get up and walk, they most certainly don’t attack their friends.
Jamie turned back to Liam, he just didn’t have time for this,
“I don’t know,” he began, “I don’t know what happened to those people, I don’t know why they attacked us, and I most certainly don’t know what happened to Nick, what I do know is we have an injured man in need of medical care, we are surrounded, and the first thing we need to worry about is how we get out of here”
With that Jamie returned to his map, examining side streets and sewage lines.
As Private Mason slumped against the rafters, Dean crawled across the dusty attic floor towards Captain Winsford and Private Brak,
“Captain, I grew up in a house like this” Dean explained, “these old cottages belonged to weavers, the attics, they used to be linked, maybe, maybe there is another way out”
“Ok Corporal Lockly,” Jamie whispered, “You check over there, behind Private Mason, and I will check this side, Brak, you stay put, do not let them open that door”
Dean crawled back over and began to run his hands along the adjoining wall, there must be a panel loose somewhere. Captain Winsford was feeling his way along the opposite wall, when his fingers felt a crack, gripping hold, he pulled with all his might, suddenly the panel came off, and Jamie stumbled backwards under the shock. Peering through the hole, he looking into the neighbouring attic,
“It may not be safe,” he whispered, desperately trying to see into the gloom.
He swung his torch around, scanning the walls, no sign of any movement. In the dim light he could make out an old high-backed armchair and a few dusty boxes. As the light danced over the old floor boards, they settled on the outline of a long-forgotten trap door. It didn’t look like anyone had been up there in years.
Captain Winsford assessed the situation, this house was overrun with what ever those people were, the whole street was...
This is a story I started years ago now, the intention being for different survivors of this zombie apocalypse to find the book, and continue the journey, each adding their own chapters as the book brings both tragedy and hope to ever more desperate people. I haven't felt the pull of Captain Jamie Winsford again, so maybe the next instalment could be from someone who watched him recount these events live on national television, only to be cut off before he even said the dreaded Z word...
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