Death Has No Mercy prologue

DEATH HAS NO MERCY

PROLOGUE

He would have personally enjoyed brutally murdering every single one of them. Tommy gun would wipe them all out. Plough through them like a big tractor ploughing a small field. Stupid, immature thought really. None of it was their fault. It was the bloody trains and the bloody government. Every weekend they would close most of the tube lines and everyone would have to use the reduced service. You could taste the tension in the air. Everyone was irritable, hot, in a hurry and being crushed in this small, packed tunnel that led to one single jam packed platform. Strange expression, that, jam packed. Where did it come from?
Jack Jones, or JJ as he was known to everyone he had ever met worked every weekend and had two days off during the week. Everyone in his apartment block worked during the week and raved until they puked at the weekends. JJ liked the quiet life so he worked weekends.
What should have been a half hour journey had taken two and a half hours. Six changes so far. Imagine walking in a straight line from the front door in your house to the garden gate, that was his usual journey. Not today, today you would have to walk to the next county to get to your front gate.
That was how JJ was feeling about his journey. Everyone else was in a similar state of mind. The football supporters, chanting for their team and the constant foreign languages of all the tourists talking at once intensified everyone’s travel rage. All these bastards enjoying themselves when others had to work. Everyone pushing everyone else for the one solitary tube that was crammed to bursting. JJ was late and he hated that. His boss hated it even more so.

No one noticed the nervous looking man in the face mask carrying a rucksack. People had been wearing face masks since the flu virus scare a few months ago. A lot of people wore gloves as well, but not like the ones the man in the mask was wearing. Impenetrable gloves that would protect his skin from the chemical weapon he was about to unleash. The false layer of latex that covered his face to disguise his true identity and protect him from the gas made him look strange. But what stood out as strange in today’s society?

JJ still had not noticed the man standing next to him. He was lost in his thoughts of pleasure seeking football supporters and pleasure seeking tourists clogging up the disgraceful service London tube offered its customers. Every weekend they did this and every Friday night he checked on the internet what route to take. Last night there had been no warnings, and now this. JJ was still thinking about the internet when the unseen terrorist released his deadly cargo. The terrorist would never get the chance to sit back and admire the fruits of his labour. He was the first casualty of the infected.
Sweat was pouring down the terrorists face as he took two aerosol cans out of his rucksack and began to unload their deadly cargo into the crowded tunnel. The victims should have shown symptoms in ten minutes, not the ten seconds it took JJ to inhale the vapour and transform.

JJ did not hear the hissing as the gas was released, or notice the man kneeling down beside him mumbling something unintelligible.

JJ’s blood suddenly turned to fire as his skin absorbed the deadly gas. Pain rampaged through his body, frying his nerves and sending messages to his brain that ordered him to kill. Voices screamed into his ears and they would not silence until JJ became a slayer.

The man in the mask was the first person he saw. The man was staring at JJ. The terrorists look of fear hidden under his latex mask. He recognised the look on JJ’s face, the weeping eyes, expanded red blood vessels and the insane star of a mind decayed. The tried to punch JJ, but all he managed to hit was a claw like hand that had no feeling. The infected were all around the terrorist now. JJ began to punch the terrorist as all those around him began to snarl and fight each other.

The terrorist screamed for mercy as his face was beaten to a pulp by his first ever victim. His years of planning and designing his chemical weapon a complete success.
The sound of an approaching tube train made JJ look up from the bloody pulp he was still beating. The demeaning screech it made as it neared him intensified his rage and the rage of all the other slayers. The breeze blew the gas back past JJ to the people in the tunnel approaching the platform. One end of the platform had become slayers. The people at the other end of the platform stood in fear.
“Its those bloody football hooligans. They’re ‘aving a punch up and we can’t get out. We’d ‘ave to go through ‘em to get to the exits. Bloody tube is packed ‘en all,” Sid said.
“Calm down mate. All we can do is stand here. We can’t get on the tube and we can’t get in amongst that lot. There’s cameras everywhere, the police will be along soon. They won’t attack us, we’re not wearing scarves or nothing,” Roger replied.

Both men stood amongst the other petrified passengers.
The football supporters stood in the middle of the platform thinking it was two rival gangs having a fight.
“Bloody gangs must be fighting over their turf,” a Chelsea supporter said.
He did not notice the slayer behind him. He was wearing a hood so his enraged face was covered. He had inhaled the gas just as the tube train pulled in and blew the gas back down the tunnel. The voice of the football supporter sounded like hot pins stabbing his ears. The slayer jumped on the fat sports fan and bit savagely into his neck. The football supporter screamed, enraging the slayer even more, the screams inflaming his eardrums. Slayers were now attacking everyone around them.
“Good service to Hammersmith. Circle and district lines closed. Change at Earls Court for Stanmore via Wembley Park. Please let passengers off the train before boarding, mind the gap.”
To the ears of a slayer the sudden noise was like a red flag to a bull. The pain in their heads intensified, the pain in their veins increased as their rage increased. The dead terrorist had a degree in chemistry from the University of London. His remains would never be identified, nor would the bloody mess of many of his victims.
The doors opened as the passengers stepped off the tube on the platform. The teenager listening to her IPOD was brutally punched in the face by a tourist on his way to the Tower of London. Slayers fought their way onto the tube and attacked whoever was in front of them.

A banker texting his wife on his £400 mobile phone had his eyes gouged out by a teenage girl with nail extensions. His screams of agony fuelling her rage. Frightened passengers began to scream at the carnage around them, making the slayers attack them, trying to silence the insane roar behind their eyes.

Windows were smashed as both victims and slayers fought for movement and escape.
The driver watched in panic from his cab as he saw the madness unfolding on the tube he had driven for twenty years became something out of a horror film. All he could do was sit there, he could not drive away because the tube would not move until the doors were shut.
“Control, this is driver ten, I have a situation down here. It’s a bloody riot down here.”
“We know number ten. Police are on their way and riot police we hope as well. The station has been shut down so no more passengers can get in. I’m afraid you’ll have to sit tight. Keep your doors locked, we’ll keep you posted .”
“Thanks control, you’ve certainly set my mind at rest.”
James threw down his radio and looked into his cameras at the horror unfolding. He could clearly see an old woman in one of the cars attacking a fat man. What the hell was going on? She was fighting like a woman possessed. Her wrinkled old face a mask of sheer panic. Why was she panicking like that? The fat man was trying to fight her off, but he was failing. How could that be possible?

JJ heard a scream behind him that sounded like a clap of thunder had exploded next to his ear and turned to face his tormentor. A fat man wearing a blue and white scarf. Someone was attacking the man, making him scream. JJ attacked the slayer and shoved him through the window of the tube train to a chorus of screams. He turned and charged into a group of people as he saw an opening behind them. He had to get out of this place, it was killing him. People were killing people, he had fought for his life several times already. Everywhere around him was carnage, but the corridor marked exit offered him salvation. He remembered it led out of this hellhole.
Why wouldn’t all these idiots move out of the way and why were they making so much noise. Screaming and shouting like spoilt children. Bloody idiots.
“Let me past, you bastards,” JJ screamed.
He clutched his ears in agony, he felt as if he had been hit in the temple with a sledgehammer.
A petrified man was looking at him, JJ hated him on sight. He had to die, why is he standing there, staring at me like that? Who does he think he is? He’s no one, that’s who he is. An insignificant obstacle.
JJ rammed into the shocked man as hard as he could, slamming his way out through the tunnel towards a sign that said Tottenham Court Road.
JJ kicked, punched and gouged his way through the screaming tunnel as his savage desire led him through and out.

Once out of the tunnel JJ was in a wide corridor with an escalator at one end. The floor was littered with bodies. Pools of blood covered the polished white floor. He looked down at his shoes and could see blood on his red running shoes. The blood was a different shade of red. His body still felt as if it were on fire and his head throbbed. The platform was still a choir of screams and shouting. Something was slamming into the tube train. He had seen a lot of bodies hurled into it during the madness of the last few minutes. He looked back into the tunnel, all he could see was a mass of bodies tangled up in each other. Crazy bastards, what the hell was wrong with them?

That lunatic with the mask had attacked him earlier and now everyone was at it. It was the bloody train company. They had caused all of this, it was train rage. Like cabin fever, except in an underground train station.

JJ suddenly had an idea how to end all this madness.
Kill all the train staff. The bastards would be easy to identify. They all wore uniforms and some of them wore those really annoying caps. Some of them even wore those glow in the dark orange and yellow things. Yes, JJ thought, slay all of the train staff. If he did that he would have to kill all of the transport police as well. His blood still felt as if it were boiling in his veins and his head was a mass of pain. The thoughts of murder seemed to calm him.
“Kill the bastards responsible,” JJ screamed.
The raging mass of bodies in the tunnel he had just fought his way through stopped and looked at him.
“The fucking train company’s done all this. Lets get ‘em.”
The chemical weapon was nearly working the way it had been designed. The only fault being its speed. Something the dead designer regretted in his last painful moments. The rage felt by the victims was becoming focused as the virus now controlling them took hold. The dead designer had called his invention self destruct.

JJ’s brain was beginning to expand, cutting off nerves, feelings and life expectancy.
Fellow slayers were walking towards him, JJ was glad. It made him feel powerful, like a leader. He did not trust any of them, they were all savage killers.
JJ ran for the escalators and galloped up them. Death, murder and insanity were following and he did not want to be caught by any of them.

Once at the top of the escalator JJ followed the signs that said Tottenham Court Road exit. The noise behind him kept forcing him forward. He rounded a corner and there they were, transport police and tube staff.
“Stop right there, sir. No one is to leave the building until we find out what has been going on. All of the other exits have been sealed. Riot police are on route. You are safe now, sir. Staff will attend to whatever injuries you have.”
The speaker was a tall, thin blonde haired transport police woman. Her face dropped when she saw the mob behind JJ. Many of them were covered in blood, theirs and their victims. The area behind the ticket barriers was full, people still trying to force their way up the escalators, fighting and killing each other as they tried to escape the tunnels.

The transport police drew their truncheons and stood in a line, advancing towards the ticket barrier.
“Stay where you are. No one is to leave the station. You are all under arrest for,” the W.P.C never got a chance to finish her sentence.
JJ jumped up onto one of the ticket barrier divisions and turned to face the mass of slayers fighting behind him.
“Kill ‘em all, they’re the ones responsible.”
JJ stood where he was all the hordes of slayers rushed the ticket barriers. They slammed into their obstacles like mad bulls. Slayers of all ages, sexes, sexualities and races were crushed against the plastic barriers. JJ watched the insanity unfold around him from his vantage point, king slayer on his throne.

The weight of dead, dying and injured bodies soon broke down the barriers and the dead and dying were crushed to a pulp as the bloodthirsty slayers went through the police like a petrol bomb through a window.

JJ seized his chance and jumped down from the ticket barrier, pressing himself against the wall and sliding past the heaving mass. Someone was blocking his way and got his neck snapped for his troubles, someone else got head butted in the face. JJ felt as if he were a weapon that could slay anything in his path. The slayers slaughtered the police and tube staff and were turning on each other. They had no direction, JJ had found his, the stairs that led to the road. He ran up them and several other slayers followed. A barrier had been put at the top of the stairs and uniformed police were guarding it. JJ stopped and let the lunatics behind him go first. He smiled to himself, not noticing the blood trickling from his ears.

The slayers crashed through the barrier and fought like wild dogs with the police.
JJ ran up the remaining stairs and dodged past the brawl in front of him. Two uniformed police tried to restrain him, the nearest got a kick in the bollocks and the other one got shoved into a wall and elbowed in the face.
“Bastards,” JJ yelled as he ran down the road.

His workplace was about ten minutes away. Two more tube stops and he would have been there. A police van full of riot police zoomed past. The scream of the sirens increasing his rage.

As he was running JJ noticed the pain had gone, the only thing he could feel was rage and power. He felt like the winner in the marathon as he ran down the street. The blood trickling from his ears began to run out of his ears as his brain matter expanded.
The building was a glory to behold. He had reached his workplace through all of the turmoil and insanity. He was in charge and if his boss so much as looked at him a way he did not like, he would die a violent and painful death.

JJ barged through the door, totally unaware that people were staring at him in horror as blood poured out of his ears.
“Jones, what the hell is wrong with you?”
JJ looked up and saw his boss staring down at him. Rage overcame the original slayer and he charged up the stairs and slammed into his boss, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him.
Blood was now freely flowing from JJ’s ears.
The rest of the building watched in horror as the normally quiet, hardworking JJ slammed his forehead down into their arrogant boss’s face.

The blow was so severe that JJ’s already expanded brain ruptured. Blood began to pour out of his ears, nose and mouth as the chemical that had infected him earlier finally claimed his life.
Blood flowed into the unconscious face of JJ’s boss.
The terrorist’s plan was now well underway. The virus had been spread by infected blood and saliva. In less than ten seconds JJ’s boss would become the first victim to be contaminated by a carrier.

DEATH HAS NO MERCY
CHAPTER ONE
J.J’s boss’s name was Glenn Duffy and ten seconds after the now deceased Jack Jones killed him he rose as another slayer. What he saw when he opened his eyes infuriated him. The dead body of a once reliable employee who had attacked him like a man possessed. The screaming coming from below was enough to make his head explode.
He threw the dead body off of his expensive, blood stained suit and began to scream at the noise coming form below. “Shut up you bastards or I’ll give you something to moan about.” His own words echoed round his brain like thunder, enraging him even more than he had ever thought possible.

Glenn leapt to his feet and ran down the stairs in an effort to confront the skull crushing bellows of his always disobedient staff. None of them had ever respected him because he was a short, fat balding man. Some of them he knew had called him an arrogant fat bastard behind his back and he knew that and for years he had tolerated their abuse of his position, but no more. It was all going to change, right now in fact.
Roger‘s long, trembling legs could barely support his skinny frame. “What the hell is going on sir?”
His words felt like a hammer being swung against a tin drum tied around Glenn’s head.
“You long haired, no good lanky shit. How dare you shout at me like that?”
Glenn screamed as he surged forward and threw his fat body into the petrified, crying Roger, knocking him across the room and landing on a large glass coffee table that collapsed beneath the weight of more than a few cups.
Roger screamed as the glass fragments ground into the soft flesh of his back and the large, fat hands of Glenn punched him in the face. Blood trickled from the wound’s in Glenn’s face inflicted by J.J and fell into Roger’s open mouth, within ten seconds the contaminated blood had infected Roger and he threw the fat man off of his skinny frame and stood up, his body a mass of pain and his head a raging torrent of agony and hate. Everyone was looking at him and screaming as they tried to run from his badly disfigured face. Teeth fell out of his mouth as he charged into the tall, slim dark haired, full bodied assistant manager he had fancied since he first started working here.
“You snooty bitch,” he cried as he charged towards her, arms out stretched, fingers like claws.
Katie, the full bodied assistant manager was taller and stronger than the boy and was a lot calmer. The victim of several failed muggings and a regular at a local kick boxing gym knew exactly how to stop any unwanted advances without even risking being prosecuted for what she considered self defence. She side stepped and stuck her leg out and Roger flew forward, head first into the wall behind Katie. The impact was so hard that Roger’s left cheekbone collapsed and his eye socket became dislodged. Pain shot through his already troubled head like an electric shock, enraging him even more. He turned as Katie’s left foot connected with his already damaged face, knocking him to the floor, but it was not over.
“Stay where you are, otherwise…” Katie did not finish her sentence. The frantic screaming from behind stopped her mid sentence, causing her head to spin round.
Glenn was attacking Dave, the sports writer. The other four members of staff were just standing, staring at the madness that seemed to be unfolding around them. Katie picked up a glass paperweight and thumped Glenn hard in the temple with it, sending him crashing to the floor, unconscious.

“Everybody out, this place is turning into a slaughterhouse and we’re all dead if we stay here.”
Katie ran for the door, not worrying if the others followed her or not. Most of the people she worked with just about managed to say hello while they were stared at her cleavage anyway.

Once outside Katie turned round to see who was following her and saw her four untouched workmates walking nervously behind her, behind them a very savage looking Dave was running towards them. Katie shoved her workmates out of the way and when Dave was close enough she slammed the door in his face and heard the reassuring crunch as a body crashed into it and fell on the floor.
“There’s a police station just up the road a bit, just down from the tube station. We should be safe there.”

The five survivors unknowingly began to head towards the source of the outbreak.

DEATH HAS NO MERCY
CHAPTER 2
As the slayers fought their way through the tube station staff and the few police that had first arrived, the riot squad began their descent into murder and madness.
Only one vanload of riot police had arrived, twenty well trained officers who had been trained to deal with rioters and serious offenders, not bloodthirsty, insane slayers who’s senses were on fire and whose brain’s only command was to kill by any means possible.

One suspect had made it past the police and that was the now painfully deceased J.J. Six police were wrestling with three other slayers, trying to restrain them as their colleagues ran down the stairs to confront the source of the noise, coming from down below.
Sergeant Kinney who was in command of the riot squad would later describe the event as a descent into hell.
“Be prepared team, whatever is going on down here is savage, to say the least. The behaviour of the three nuttas upstairs is what I’ve been led to believe is typical behaviour. Shields in line and keep pushing them back,” Kinney shouted as he saw the carnage in front of him.

Everyone in front of him was fighting in a what he thought of as a sea of madness. Kinney and his men paused for a few seconds, unable to comprehend what they were witnessing. Their brains simply could not digest what the eyes were witnessing. The few seconds pause seemed like hours.

“Forward in formation, men. Push them back into the tunnels and await reinforcements,” Kinney screamed as he advanced with his men.

The sea of madness consisted of slayers, biting, gouging, punching, head butting and screaming at their victims as their insane rage consumed their senses.
The slayers looked up from their victims to locate the sound of the screaming and saw the line of police shields. Six slayers stopped beating their most recent victims and charged at the line of police shields, throwing themselves against the line, spitting blood and contamination at the police. Kinney looked over to see the a badly beaten, blonde haired police woman fighting a fat man in suit who was begging for his life. The mans shouting seemed to anger the W.P.C even more and she snarled at him like a rabid dog. Kinney knew uniformed police in the immediate vicinity had been sent here, but now they seemed to be the aggressors. More beaten and bloody people were crashing through the broken ticket barriers and attacking whoever was nearest them. The W.P.C had now beaten the fat man to the ground and was punching his dead face with what looked like broken hands as blood and saliva trickled out of her mouth. The badly beaten fat man suddenly sat up and threw the police woman off and leapt up, shouting like a man possessed.
“With respect sir, what the hell are we supposed to do, they all look rabid?” Page shouted.
“Hold the line men, keep pushing forward and don’t let any of these savages past. Forwards everyone,” Kinney shouted above the mindless screaming. “Steady and don’t panic, back up is on the way and I’ll radio through about a possible infection. Keep your masks on and do not expose your skin to anything.”

The line of shields moved purposefully forward stopping any more slayers escaping.
“Calm down and do not resist, otherwise I’ll spray you,” riot officer Drover shouted at one of the slayers he was trying to arrest outside the tube station.

Members of the public watched as six uniformed riot police struggled to restrain two woman and one man half their size. Drover sprayed the woman in the face with mace. Instead of subduing her she fought back harder, even though she could not see her enemy. A glove hand pushed down on her head and she bit hard at the nearest finger, biting through the glove, through the skin and eventually through the bone as Drover screamed in agony, letting go of the woman as he clutched his injured hand. Drover’s partner was holding the woman’s legs down, the woman flew up and slammed her body into the young police officer, knocking him to the ground. The slayer could not see her enemy but the screams of fear let her know where her attacker was. The slayers hands clamped round the policeman’s riot helmet and yanked it off, and used it as a battering ram against the policeman’s head, his cries of pain and fear guided the slayers hand, blood trickled from the slayers mouth and ears and she beat the policeman’s face to a pulp, killing him in less than a minute. The poison in the slayers blood bought the recently departed policeman back to life as Drover starred in horror, rooted to spot, his chewed off finger forgotten.

A hoody watching the chaos, high on crack began to laugh, “fucking coppers can’t do nothing,” he said, attracting the attention of the two newborn slayers.
Both slayers looked up at the sound of his voice, one made eye contact and saw a new enemy. They ran for him and he turned and fled, his laughter turning to screams as they pounced on him like a pack of hounds hunting a fox. The blind slayer used her teeth while the policeman used his truncheon to hit any part of his tormentor that moved.
Drover soiled his uniform, stood up and ran into the crowd, throwing off his helmet as he disappeared down the street, heading in the same direction J.J has taken only minutes earlier. The spectators followed him when they saw the hoody was being torn to pieces by a blind woman and a policeman who looked as if he had risen from the dead. The other four riot squad officers had managed to handcuff their slayers and dragged them towards the police van, throwing both slayers in the back and slamming the door behind them.
“Bloody hell, I’ve been on the force twenty five years and I’ve never had bother like this,” Elliott said, trying to catch his breath. “This bloody suit is like a suit of armour when you’re my age. Would you listen to those two in their,” he said, gesturing at the two slayers who were trying smash their way out of the police van.
“Should we go into the station, or wait up here?” Donovan said.
“You stay with the van and the rest of us will go in. Where are Drover and.. fuck me, look at that,” Elliott said astonished.

His three fellow team members stared in horror as they saw one of their colleagues and a seemingly blind woman beating a boy to death.
Elliott drew his truncheon and rushed over, striking his colleague in the elbow as his arm was raised, ready to hit the hoody again. The man he used to call friend jumped up jumped on Elliott who threw him to the ground and stamped down hard on his groin.
“Watch out Elliott, you can’t do that.”
The warning went unheeded as Elliott thumped his old friend on the forehead, slamming his enraged attacker into the pavement. The slayer lay on the floor dazed and unable to move. The blind slayer ran towards Elliott and got an elbow in her bloody, beaten face sending her crashing unconscious to the ground, next to her latest victim.
“Human rights or no human rights I’m not going to let some psycho eat me. Look at that poor bastard,” Elliott said, pointing at the hoody who appeared to have bite marks in his dead face. The hoody groaned, making everyone jump back.
He stood up and screamed as he saw his reflection in a shop window, then his mind turned to fire and the rage overtook the crack addicted hoody, slayer.

Katie and her friends rounded the corner, on their way to the police station to report what had happened when they saw four police officers watching a badly beaten man scream at his own reflection.
“Bloody hell, he’s got the same look J.J had when he rushed into the office,” Katie whispered.
Her four friends said nothing, they just stood behind her like lost sheep. Katie was in no mood to talk to four silent men anyway.
“Officer what the hell is going on here? Three men in my office are acting like this man here,” Katie said pointing at the hoody, who was still screaming at his own reflection.
“Where was this, Miss?” Elliott asked.
“At the Daily Hotspot down the road.”
“The free magazine you mean?” Elliott said. “Shit, I’ll have to radio this in. We thought they were all contained in the tube station.”

“He killed a man and boy and they sort of came back,” Katie mumbled, realising how stupid she sounded.
Elliott took off his helmet, raisied his eyebrows and stared at Katie. “What do you mean, they sort of came back?”
“J.J came charging in and attacked the M.D. He beats him until he stopped moving then J.J died. The M.D killed a boy who, well got up and attacked me. I saw the boy die. He looked like that guy over there, the one screaming. We all left and the two killers are still back there somewhere.”
“Help is on the way, try not to panic.” Elliott presses his radio and begins to speak into it. “This is officer number 777, requesting immediate, urgent back up. We’ve got lunatics down here randomly attacking people in the street and Sergeant Kinney is struggling in the tube station. The suspects act like they are intoxicated and feel no pain. They’re virtually rabid. Did you get that, over?” Elliott said as he spoke into his radio.
“Message received. That is the message we got from tube staff. More units are on the way. You need to contain the area and do not, I repeat, do not let anyone escape. Infection needs to be contained, officer. That is an order.”
“Who am I speaking to?” Elliott said, puzzled.
“Borough Commander Bryson. We have seen what is going on by watching the CCTV footage of your area. Out.”

The hoody slayer screamed at Elliott and charged him. Elliott slammed him in the face with his shield and whacked him in the forehead with his truncheon, fracturing his skull, causing his fragile brain to erupt and pour out of his ears. The hoody lay on the ground and moved no more.

“Jesus Elliott, people saw that,” Harris said.
“I’m not gonna get eaten like he did. This isn’t a normal situation, these bastards want to kill everyone and whatever is wrong with them is spreading. You heard what this girl said and you saw what happened earlier. Put the bodies in the van and radio Sergeant Kinney. We need to know what is going on underground.”