The Virus

neck. “Keith and Trevor are dead, and we will be too unless we get out of here. What’re you even doing here, I thought you went home?”
“I’m looking for my sister,” Ben told him. “She was admitted to the fifth floor this morning, but I’ve not seen her since they evacuated the hospital.”
“Have you seen what’s happening out there, Ben? Of course there’s no sign of her. Half of Sunnymoor is missing.”
“Which is why I came back here. This was the last place I saw her.”
“How did you get in?” Amy asked. “We barricaded the door.”
“The lift,” Terry replied.
“You managed to call the lift?”
“No, I was on the floor above, I had to climb down.”
“Climb?” Ben and Amy exclaimed in unison.
“Yeah, I obviously couldn’t call the lift.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t you seen?”
He motioned for them to follow him back around the corner. Immediately Amy could tell why the elevator wouldn’t move. The first sign was the pair of legs jutting out into the corridor. As they got closer, she could see that it was the body of a man that prevented the lift doors from closing.
“My god,” Amy said. She rushed forward, only to be stopped by Ben’s outstretched arm.
“Wait!” Ben urged. “He might not be dead.”
“Exactly, I can help him.” She approached the corpse but found a gaping hole in his stomach.
“No, I mean he might be one of those things. He might get up.”
“He’s got a massive hole in his chest!” Amy countered, pointing out the fatal wound.
“He might get up. They’ve been doing it all morning.”
“He’s got no insides.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Terry snapped, pulling her from the corpse. “The dead have been coming back to life. And we don’t know how long this guy has been here. He could get up at any moment.”
“I think we should move him,” Ben said.
“You mean shove him into the lift?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait, you want us to drag him inside?” Amy asked.
“Don’t worry, we’ll do it, c’mon.” Terry motioned for Ben to assist him.
As the two men set to work moving the corpse’s legs into the elevator carriage, Amy approached the window. The carnage had finally ended. Bodies lay strewn across the road outside with only one or two of the lunatics lingering about. She wondered where the rest of the pack had gone, and how long it would be before they reached more of the population.
A prompt ding from the elevator made Amy turn. The two men stepped back as the sliding doors closed, concealing the corpse. She felt a brief sensation of relief to be free of the dead man. That was until the elevator whirred into motion. The trio exchanged anxious glances as the lift descended.

10
The dull clamour of opening locks roused the prisoners from their slumber. Frank, however, hadn’t slept at all. The soiled mattress and overwhelming stench of urine were less than inviting, but it was Henderson’s threat that deprived him of sleep. He spent the night pondering what the guard could be planning. He didn’t believe there was any veracity to Henderson’s statement, but as the minutes passed, his torment increased. When he heard Gus Razor being led away from his cell in the dead of night, Frank’s paranoia only intensified.
Despite him returning no more than half an hour later, Frank couldn’t help but wonder what Gus was involved in. Was he being ordered to kill him to keep the heat off Henderson? Or was it more dodgy deals he was conducting outside the walls? The possibilities were never-ending, and it was only once his cell door swung open that Frank was given something else to occupy his mind.
“You’ve got some serious problems, Lee,” McAllister told him.
Frank looked up from his perch on the ground; the only portion of the cell not stained or tainted by bodily fluids.
“McAllister, why don’t you take a seat?” he motioned towards the soiled linen on the mattress.
“I think I’ll pass,” The large guard replied, leaning against the door frame. “Henderson’s going to kill you.”
Frank rose to his feet, shaking his head as he spoke. “That bloke isn’t happy unless he’s surrounded by death. First the kid, and I’m guessing he’s poisoned the lads in the hospital wing?”
“Mortuary,” McAllister said. “They’re dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yup, the last one died twenty minutes ago. The mortician’s van has seen more miles than a London cabbie these past few days. We’ve still got a heap of bodies waiting to be taken away.”
“I bet Henderson’s thrilled.”
“I wouldn’t concern yourself with them. Four of them were rapists, and the rest were murderers.”
“And what do you think I am, McAllister? I’m hardly a fucking saint.”
“Look, you need to watch your back. It won’t be long before—”
McAllister’s words were cut short by a distant agonised scream. The two men stared at each other before the pained outburst came again, louder than the last.
“Now what’s he done?” McAllister groaned. He slammed the cell door and jogged to the end of the corridor.
“What’s going on?” A voice called from one of the cells.
“Sounds like someone’s finally had enough of that bastard cook.” Razor chuckled. Frank turned his ear to the door. The shrieks of pain were chilling. And the roars? They sounded more animal than human. He had no idea what was happening elsewhere in the prison, but the chaos seemed to be escalating. Then he heard the gunshots.
***
McAllister jogged through the empty corridors as the sound of enveloping hysteria increased. He had no idea if the prisoners were rioting or if his colleagues were laying out some severe punishment. He rounded a corner, faced with a guard running towards him.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re killing each other!” the man yelled.
“Have you phoned it in?”
“There’s no response anywhere!” he