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    All The Dead Are Here - Pete Bevan's zombie tales collection


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    WARNING: Stories on this site may contain mature language and situations, and may be inappropriate for readers under the age of 18.

    TRANSMISSION by Nick Lloyd
    September 23, 2009  Short stories   Tags: , ,   

    Marcus awoke at the sound of the alarm. Waking quickly he hit the stop button and removed the batteries. Lying back down he checked his watch.10.40. He looked over at his wind-up alarm clock and saw the time showed 8.24. Damm. How drunk had he been last night? Drunk enough to forgot to wind his alarm clock but not so drunk that he had put batteries in his digital clock. Still, he had twenty minutes to spare.

    He rose from his bed, rubbing his head and made his way to the bathroom. He pulled a few switches and climbed under the warm shower water. Apparently, after food and life, everyone who had stayed with him had always said a warm shower was the thing they missed the most. Being an engineer, it wasn’t difficult for him to have set up a container on the roof to catch rainwater and solar panels to heat the caught liquid. So the water wasn’t always hot, and it didn’t really get you clean, but the sensation of being under warm flowing water really made you feel that nothing had changed. After drying and dressing Marcus went back to check the time. 10.54. He’d left it late, but still on time. Putting his watch on his wrist, and picking up the alarm clock, he made his way through the empty house to the locked door, winding the clock as he hurriedly walked. He entered the correct code and pulled the now unlocked door open. The sunlight burnt his eyes for a few seconds until they slowly adjusted to the glow. Making his way up the small flight of stairs he made his way to the roof. Before he reached the top he heard the groans all around him. Stepping out onto roof he glanced around. Despite being several hundred meters away the groans were almost as loud as if the undead were right next to him. Were there more today, or less? He walked the short distance to the man made shack and stepped inside. Flicking a switch the generator started up. A row of little lights blinked into life on the console on the back wall of the shack. He had always been a bit of a radio fanatic. He had built his first short wave set at just 11 years old using various household appliances. That had got him in to a lot of trouble with his parents. Now instead of getting a smack round the back of the head it was, hopefully, saving his life. He picked up the mouthpiece and looked again at his watch. 11.00. He flicked a switch on the radio and took a deep breath.

    “This is Marcus calling any and all listeners. As per the pre-recorded message it is now eleven o’clock and I’m beginning my daily transmission. My position is still secure. I have light, heat and water. If anyone has tuned in and is able, I’m offering sanctuary to anyone who can make his or her way here. The grounds are big enough for a helicopter to land, and if you have vehicles there is room to park at least a dozen. Of course you would need to make your way in first as the compound is surrounded by several hundred of the undead. I will be waiting for any response from now until thirteen hundred hours. Next personal transmission will be at seventeen hundred hours until nineteen hundred hours. Ending personal transmission.”

    Sitting back down Marcus waited. Every day for the last, what was it now, nine months; he had gone through the same routine. Wake, broadcast, wait. At first he got a response at least once a week. Some came, others told him to come to them. He had never left, but always accepted those who came to him. They never lasted long though. Soon it became once month. Then even less often. It had been three weeks since the last lot. An old man who had had drove to the gate after hearing his broadcast, but unable to respond. He had been convinced that he knew of an island that was safe and tried to make him leave, but Marcus knew he was safe where he was. He knew the old man was no longer alive. And so every day he made the same two broadcasts. And every evening he put the automated transmission on, until around 1.00am, which sent his co-ordinates in case anyone was still listening.

    Leaning back on his chair Marcus pulled open the cupboard to his right. He pulled out a can and opened it. No matter what everyone else said, Marcus always thought beer was the greatest thrill, not a warm shower. As he took a long swig, he wondered how long his supply would last. Oh, he had been prepared. Food to last several years, the ability to make sure he had power for as long as needed, but beer. Maybe he would have to look into brewing his own. Could it really be that hard? At least he didn’t smoke. There was no way he could grow tobacco plants. He finished his first can, opened his seconded and wondered if today would be the day.

    The alarm went off at 12.55. Marcus jerked awake and looked at his watch. The time checked out. He knocked the empty beer can off his chest and sat up. Six empty cans lay on the floor. He really had to cut down on the drinking. Well, five minutes until transmission end. Then a long four hour wait until more nothing. Marcus considered what to do now. Drinking was probably a bad idea. Not only was he already a bit drunk, it would diminish his already dwindling beer supply.

    12.56.

    Should he stay here? Maybe it was time to move on. See if there were others alive in the world. Was it worth it? Maybe he should just forget about others. Just give up on the transmissions. Go cold turkey on the beer until he could brew his own. No more early mornings. No more late nights.

    12.57.

    How about just end it all? If he were the last man alive would it really matter? Or was that the beer and loneliness talking?

    12.58

    But why give up? Surly someone has to live on. There must be others out there.

    12.59

    “Hello? Is that Marcus?”

    Marcus sat up suddenly. He stared at the basic two-way radio set up. Was he asleep and dreaming? Or maybe he was more drunk than he thought, and hearing things.

    “Marcus? Hello. Is this transmission still on?

    Marcus looked at his watch. 12.59. Less than one minute left. Could someone really cut it this fine? Was it real? Why wasn’t he responding? He picked up the mic, and held it to his lips.

    “Hello?

    “Oh thank the Lord, you’re real. As it was an automated transmission we weren’t sure there was anyone actually on the other end.”

    “Erm, yes I’m here. And alive. Where are you? How many of you are there?

    “My name is John. I’m here with my wife and three other survivors. We have a helicopter and I think enough fuel to make it to you. We’re currently in an abandoned airfield, that’s where we found the helicopter. ”

    “That’s great. Are you planning on coming here? What’s your ETA?”

    “Ermm, if we set off in the next few minutes, we’re looking at around two hours I guess.”

    “That’s fine. I’ll get dinner on.”

    “Sounds good. See you soon.”

    With that the mic went dead. People, thought Marcus. After so long. As it was now after one o’clock it was time to shut down the transmission anyway. Two hours to get everything ready. Marcus stood up and walked back to the stairs. Even though the moaning was still there, he hardly noticed it. He walked as if through a dream. Walking back into his house he went to the door that lead to the basement. He opened the door and walked down the stairs, flicking on the lights. He stopped at the metal gate at the bottom. Staying away from the grasping hands he looked at the zombie in front of him.

    “Don’t worry my dear,” he said to his wife, “dinner’s on the way!”

    ——

    BIO: My name is Nick Lloyd and I live in Nottingham, England. Having been a zombie fan for as long as I can remember I enjoy writing the occasional short story on the subject, although mainly to bore my mates with, than to get them published. I enjoy most sports especially playing football (or soccer to the Americans!). I may take the zombie holocaust a bit too seriously as I already have several escape plans set into motion, and am ready to go rouge at a moments notice!

    27 Comments

    1. nice story. the ending was great. i was wondering why he wanted people to join him. kinda dangerous. hopefully someday someone comes and double crosses him.

      Comment by jeff on September 23, 2009 @ 4:39 pm

    2. Great story nick. looking for more. 🙂

      p.s.- ARSENAL FC IS THE GREATEST FOOTBALL CLUB IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!! 😀

      Comment by me on September 23, 2009 @ 5:11 pm

    3. Oh wow. Did not expect that coming

      Comment by Jonny Gee on September 23, 2009 @ 6:28 pm

    4. Great ending!

      Comment by Molly on September 23, 2009 @ 6:43 pm

    5. I love it…the ending was crazy!!!

      Comment by Meeka on September 24, 2009 @ 7:19 am

    6. Very well written, and a lovely bit of scene setting topped with a touch of a twist. Nice pace too. Please submit more, it sounds like you have them already 🙂

      Comment by Pete Bevan on September 24, 2009 @ 1:21 pm

    7. Thanks all. Being my first submit I was a bit nervous of the feedback, but it’s nice to get such positive comments. I am planning more, with a possible expansion on what happens to John and the other survivors. Watch this space.

      Comment by Nick Lloyd on September 24, 2009 @ 2:23 pm

    8. Very cool.The end completely took me by surprise.

      Comment by fred on September 24, 2009 @ 5:45 pm

    9. cool. liked it a lot. looking forward to next story.

      Comment by Magic on September 24, 2009 @ 7:35 pm

    10. clever.

      Comment by jfbranson on September 24, 2009 @ 8:09 pm

    11. Awesome ending. Pretty sick and demented. I loved it!

      Comment by Rob on September 25, 2009 @ 10:48 am

    12. well done. i want to know more please keep writeing. ‘NUFC for ever’

      Comment by rob on September 27, 2009 @ 1:59 am

    13. Love it, ending is great and I really want to find out what happens next!! Get the next installment posted soon.!

      Comment by Damien on September 28, 2009 @ 3:53 pm

    14. I wondered what was keeping him there. Awesome story, keep it up.

      Comment by Agent Anachronism on October 4, 2009 @ 10:29 pm

    15. Creepy. I liked it. But still creepy.

      Comment by Terry Schultz on October 5, 2009 @ 11:03 pm

    16. Hey i live in england to i have about 3 escape plans what are yours ?

      Comment by Tom on November 18, 2009 @ 2:08 pm

    17. very good ending. u r not the only guy who looks around abd makes plans.

      Comment by JERRY A on November 18, 2009 @ 11:58 pm

    18. Wow! I liked “Waiting” and this is even better…less wordy, so the pace of the story flows better. The ending was totally unexpected and thoroughly satisfying…well, not really…I want more! Please, continue this journey!

      Comment by Cherry Darling on November 23, 2009 @ 6:58 pm

    19. Oh man! I totally wasn’t expecting that. It took me a few minutes to get the connection between this and “Waiting” but I got. This was a great story.

      Comment by ashlie on December 4, 2009 @ 9:07 pm

    20. Damn dude, Marcus’s a bit fucked up. I read Waiting first and this totally changed my reading of its end.

      Comment by Dan on May 17, 2010 @ 11:14 pm

    21. Great ending

      P.S Us Americans call it soccer because we have an even greater sport that replaces the term “football”.

      Comment by Jay Chavez on July 3, 2010 @ 5:59 pm

    22. what Amerian Football?. So called because you can pick it up and run with it in your hands. Yeah that makes more sense. 😉

      Comment by Pete Bevan on July 4, 2010 @ 4:54 am

    23. Now then people lets not use this site to argue about sports, I happen to be a fan of American football as well. Well I say a fan, I’m actually a dolphfan, which doesn’t mean much at the moment. Also bit of random trivia the term soccer was actually first used by a british commentator! Finally i have started work on the third, possible final, tale in this series, Marcus and John final meet. Expect lots of twists!

      Comment by nick lloyd on July 4, 2010 @ 2:04 pm

    24. Hey I used to Play American Football for…wait for it…The Worcester Sorcerors (Saucerors geddit).

      Comment by Pete Bevan on July 5, 2010 @ 1:20 am

    25. Yeah and i had a ‘spell’ at the Washington Wizards!! :0)
      Good story and the second part is just as good, you’ll have to finish it off now mate!!

      Comment by Johnny A on September 14, 2010 @ 2:06 pm

    26. I got the creepy ending feeling from the line, “they never lasted long enough”, but I thought it was because he was eating them himself, like, in “The Road” (the basement of people kept for eating since there is nothing else to eat).

      Comment by Georgia on November 21, 2010 @ 11:35 pm

    27. Your not taking it over board. Im a fanatic as well and have devised many means of escape and supplies. Just keep on fighting the good fight!

      Comment by The gouch on May 2, 2011 @ 3:15 pm

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