British Zombie Breakout Part Two: Escape From Kilkorne
Copyright Peter Salisbury December 2011
Cover painting by Daphne Coleridge
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The contents must not be copied and distributed or re-distributed by means of printed paper, electronic transfer or by any on-line means, without the express permission of the author.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This story is entirely fictional and any resemblance to any person or place is entirely unintentional and coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 6: Return to Castle Mount
Chapter 7: The Trick With The Stone
Chapter 19: Welcome to Stannicvale
Chapter 22: Photographic Evidence
Chapter 25: Attack On Stannicvale
Deep underground in a concrete bunker, a phone rang in an untidy office. The bunker was located twenty feet beneath the surface of a fenced compound. Within the compound were several flat roofed concrete sheds sufficient for detaining and processing up to a thousand people.
The phone was answered by a bald man in his fifties wearing a white lab coat.
'Yes?'
'Is that the head of Breathdeep Biological Research Facility?'
'Professor Mason speaking,' the scientist said, putting down the scan of a terminally infected skull he'd been studying.
'At last! This is the Minister for Home Affairs.'
'I see. I expect you want my report on the breakout?' Albert Mason looked around his office: crowded desk, paperwork overflowing beside the computer, and a bookcase stuffed with academic papers and folders full of case-studies. There was also a wall-mounted lightbox with several x-rays of skulls clipped to it and a square of material on the floor which may once have resembled carpet. Everything in fact, except said report. Still holding the phone, he got up and pushed the door shut with his foot.
In a stern and haughty voice, the Minister continued, 'The report, doubtless with its full catalogue of excuses, can wait. What I want right now is something I can use to reassure the Prime Minister.'
Mason sighed and cleared his throat. He'd had no break of any sort since the alarm went off at 4 a.m. and it was now heading towards midday. 'You can reassure the PM with the fact that the army is rounding up every infectee…'
'Infectee! Don't use your jargon with me, Mason. These are zombies plain and simple. Creatures maddened by one of the most infectious diseases ever created. Zombies created initially in your facility from an illegal deterrent weapon. One which was never meant to be used but also was never, ever to reach the population of England. Zombies, which, although once human beings, have been transformed by your vile disease into psychopathic monsters intent on murder and contamination of anyone they can get their hands on!'
Mason waited until he thought the minister had reached the end of his tirade. 'As I was saying, Minister, the army has been deployed under my direction. The zombies …'
'All escaped from your supposedly secure research facility last night. Where is it they've gone to this time?'
'Instead of heading inland like before, they went straight to the nearest fishing village, a place called Kilkorne.'
'That's something of a blessing, I assume. How many innocent people have they slaughtered so far?'
'You may further reassure the Prime Minister that most of the occupants of the village were working, either in towns some distance away, or had left two days ago with the fishing fleet. We have made contact with all vessels in the fleet and they are to remain at sea until further notice.'
'So, we know at least that they were not contaminated. What damage was done in the village?'
'The less reassuring aspect is that the infec… er, the zombies rampaged through the school on the way through the village to get to the harbour. However, in the last hour I've received direct communication that they have been surrounded by the army and either killed or captured, together with any remaining villagers.'
'Children! Can you imagine what the media are going to do with this?'
'We found only one child who was actually injured, none infected, we think.'
'Are all the other civilians accounted for?'
'Unfortunately not.'
'What? You had better not be about to tell me that the country is to be subjected to the scale of terror your 'Facility' dumped in our laps last time!'
Professor Mason sank down into the chair behind his desk. He decided against reminding the Minister that it was his ambitious young predecessor who had made the zombie weapon. For the next forty seconds he held the phone away from his ear as the Minister for Home Affairs gave vent to his anger. Mason occupied himself meanwhile by confirming in his own mind that the population of southern England had been so depleted in the first disaster that there simply were insufficient numbers of people left to propagate the sort of infection which swept across the area last time. Nevertheless, he realised that he would have to ensure no stray infectees were able to break through the quarantine barrier he had put in place.
'The problem is, Minister, that some of the Facility employees here may have been infected and we are not yet certain of the exact numbers of Kilkorne residents who are safely away from the village.'
'So, what are you doing about it?'
'The army is liaising with the county council records office via the police to identify everyone apprehended, dead or alive. Simultaneously, we interrupt all TV and radio programmes every half hour with public service bulletins, instructing anyone currently outside the Kilkorne quarantine area that they must contact the police on a designated number immediately.'
'What else?'
'I have some preliminary research results on the detection of zombie blood, using Ultra Violet light.'
'Anything for early detection, so we know who's contaminated and who's not?'
'Nothing yet but…'
'But you're working on it. Day and night, I should hope. What about the vaccine?'
Mason saw that the Minister was working himself up into another fury. 'Vaccine production has been scaled up to produce sufficient quantities for a trial.'
'Trial? The only trial it's likely to get is immediate use on all infected subjects.'
'There may be ethical implications to consider with taking that route.'
'Ethics? This entire project crossed all ethical boundaries a long time ago. There are international treaties against this sort of research. For good reason. I don't need to remind you that your actions will be scrutinised with the utmost severity and that there may well be charges of criminal negligence to follow, if your clean-up operation does not proceed in a satisfactory manner.'
'Minister, I understand perfectly,' Professor Mason said with all the calm he could gather. 'I understand that if I am unable to bring about a positive outcome, you also will be forced to resign.' Without waiting for the minister's expected retort, Mason replaced the phone on its rest and, feeling as grey and tired as he looked, picked up an army issue walkie-talkie.
Inside the Kilkorne school canteen, the small band of the survivors: five adults and five teenagers sat slumped around a pair of the big, laminated canteen trestles. It was late afternoon on the first day of the second zombie outbreak. The harbourmaster, Janet Reynolds, and four friends had found a way to keep out of harm's way and meet up with the teenagers who had spent most of the day in the castle, until they headed back to the school. In the still intact canteen, they found some much-needed sustenance in the form of meat pies. Janet's own son, Steve, had escaped with four other teenagers: Alex, Maisie, Rachel and Fred, who were all from the same class. Since the two groups had got together, only Janet and Alex had shown much determination about what to do next. The rest of the individuals were still reeling from the events earlier in the day.
'Why'd the zombies have to come here?' Maisie said, her face a picture of dejection. Her pale blue school blouse had small rips on the arms where she'd had an argument with a bramble patch when they left the castle and her heavily streaked, mousey hair hung around her face in a disorganised tangle. 'They like never bothered us before.'