Zombies Stop Play Pt 7

Friday, 13th June 2014

19:00, Swalec Stadium, Cardiff

“Who the hell is that?” Asked Milo?
“I think it’s the coach!” Answered Westie. “He left to do a quick interview and never came back.” The boys looked at each other, unsure about what to do. Coach Hagman had coached Essex for 7 years and was popular with his team. “We can’t leave him out there. O’Toole, let him in!”

Jackson snatched the gun from Bridgey’s hand and fired a shot through the wall next to the door just as O’Toole was about to open it, stopping him in his tracks. Westie grabbed the gun off Jackson and threw it to the floor in anger.

“What the hell are you doing?!!” Yelled Westie. Jackson pushed Westie against the wall.
“I’m saving our lives!”
“That’s our Coach out there!” Replied Westie, pushing Jackson back whilst trying not to fall off his crutches. Mossy and Milo quickly intervened and pulled the boys apart. Even in what looked like to be the onset of the end of the world, the rivals were still fighting.

“Quick! Open the bloody door!” Coach Hagman’s deep, loud Northern English voice was so loud it filled the changing room. O’Toole ignored the fighting and opened the door. Coach Hagman slipped through, slamming and locking it behind him. Before he could say anything, loud groans and angry cries followed by bangs on the door echoed around the room. Jackson ran over to the Coach, pinning him against the wall.

“What are you doing, lad?!” Coach Hagman tried to brush Jackson’s hands off but he was too strong. There was a reason this guy has a T20 strike rate of 240.00. Jackson looked into the Coach’s deep brown, saucer-like eyes.

“I’m checking to see if you’re gonna turn. Red eyes mean you’re one of them and blue eyes mean that you’ve gonna become one.” Jackson took his hands off the coach and walked back towards the balcony. “We need to all go back into our changing room and lock the balcony doors. Those guys outside know we’re in here but I’m pretty sure they think the home changing rooms are empty.”

“You want us all to barricade ourselves in?” Asked Westie.
“No, just some of us.” The boys looked nervously at each other.
“What do you mean, Jackson?” Asked Milo, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“There are people out there.” Said Jackson quietly. “People who need our help. They’ve come here for an evening with family and friends to support us. I can’t stand by while they get eaten by those things. We have weapons here – a shotgun, loads of bats… it’s time to do what’s right. But first, we reconvene next door.”

The boys followed Jackson to the home changing room and were greeted by a nervous Obvious-Lee.
“So what’s the story boys? We got company or wha?”
Jackson spent the next 20 minutes updating his team mates on what had happened on the balcony and in the Essex changing room. He then asked or volunteers to go with him to save who they could, but they were not as forthcoming as he thought they’d be.

“I like, literally can’t believe what you’re asking Jacks!” Shouted Lee, who hadn’t put his bat down for 3 hours. “While you were next door with Ant and Dec by ‘ere, we were watching people’s ‘eads getting ripped of their shoulders mun! Essex boys running round the crease like they were making a bloody Thriller video! We do NOT wanna go out there!” The boys, including the remaining three from the Essex camp all agreed with Lee. All except Mossy.

“I actually can’t believe you guys. You want to just hide up here until it all goes away?” Asked Mossy, striding round the room. “Haven’t you seen Zombie movies? We don’t win. Humans never win. We’re not going to get rescued if we stay here. If we’re lucky they’ll destroy the place, taking us with it. Don’t you at least want to try while we’ve still got a chance?”

Sam Kingston, Glamorgan’s oversees Australian quick strolled out of the toilet during Mossy’s speech. Jackson stared him down, realising he was the only one left in the room who’s eyes he hadn’t checked. As he sat down on the bench, his team mates caught sight of his face and slowly moved further down the benches.

“What have I missed?” Asked Sammy innocently. Jackson, this time slowly and politely, took Bridgey’s shotgun out of his hands and aimed it at his bowler who look confused and terrified down the barrel of the gun.

“I’m sorry Sammy, I’m so sorry…”

Zombies Stop Play Pt 5

Friday, 13th June 2014

18:00,Swalec Stadium, Cardiff

Jackson jumped back into Mossy who was creeping close behind him.
“Easy!” Whispered Mossy to a clearly disturbed Jackson.
“Did you hear that? There’s something out there? I think it just, threw something…” Jackson was shaking. As big and brave as he was, and tried to be for his team, nerves were starting to get the better of him.
“Relax man!” Said Mossy, looking into Jackson’s eyes. “I’ve seen you swing a cricket bat, you swing it pretty damn hard!” Jackson smiled. The more he listened to Mossy’s strong South African accent, the more he was able to pretend that he was in a Lethal Weapon film. “Remember, if it growls, has red eyes and looks like it’s been microwaved then swat that zombie piece of s**t for six. Got it?” Mossy’s prep talk was just what Jackson needed. He gripped his bat even tighter and charged out onto the balcony. As he initially suspected, there was indeed an ‘infected’ player standing over a corpse. Essex’s tall, lanky twelfth man Toby Carver. Carver’s mouth was dripping with blood and he had what looked like a head in his left hand. He tilted his head to the side slowly and stared straight at Jackson.
“How many are there Jacks?” Shouted Mossy from behind the doorframe.
“Two.” Spoke Jackson in a quiet voice. “One walking dead, one dead dead.”
“Is the dead dead one going to come back to life like the others?”
“I very much doubt it. I think it’s the Essex physio. Although it’s hard to tell without his head actually attached to his body.” Throughout his entire scene description to Mossy, Jackson did not move his eyes from the two dark red spheres of the twelfth man. “I’m gonna have to kill Carver now. In that second, Carver dropped the half-eaten head of the Essex physio and leapt towards Jackson. He was about to swing his bat at Carver’s head when he heard a deafening bang in his ear. Bridgey was standing just behind him with a smoking shotgun aimed at the enemy.
Carver’s head lay in bits, scattered over the balcony. All three men turned to Bridgey who slowly lowered his gun.
“Look who decided to come to the party!” Said Jackson, fist-bumping his quiet but new-found action hero team mate.
“I’ve got your back boys. Now let’s get over there and check their room. I think their door is open…”

Bridgey’s shot had shattered the fence separating the balconies so the boys were able to creep quietly over to the Essex changing room. Jackson peered round the door to see 2 of the Essex players, shaking in the corner of the room, one gripping his cricket bat and the other holding his crutches, ready to attack the next thing to come through the door. There were three or four bodies scattered around the room, all with flattened heads. Jackson needed to get their attention but shouting wasn’t an option. Their changing room door which lead deeper into the pavilion was blood-spattered and ajar. Jackson took a step into the changing room and quickly put his finger to his lip, hoping they would realise he wasn’t one of them. Robin Van der Westhuizen, or Westie to his team mates, the injured South African Essex all-rounder threw his crutch at Jackson in panic, not realising he wasn’t there to attack. The crutch hit Jackson in the ribs resulting in an almightily yelp and the 6ft 4 bowler crashing against the wall and to the floor in agony. Mossy, Milo and Bridgey quickly ran in to see to their friend. Westie soon realised his mistake and hopped over to Jackson who was doubled over in pain.

“Sorry mate, I thought you were one of them!” There was no love loss between Westie and Jackson. They had been rivals for years. Bars would empty to see Jackson bowl his 90mph deliveries at Westie – they were very equally matched which made for the perfect rivalry. Of course their differences were not just on the field. There was history between them. They were cricket rivals, love rivals, Twitter rivals and media rivals – frequently slating one another in interviews.
“Come on mate, who are you kidding? You could see I wasn’t a bloody zombie!” Said Jackson, rather angrily.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist!” Replied Westie. “It was an accident!” Bridgey turned to Westie’s team mate O’Toole who was still in the corner, staring out of the changing room door.
“Hey buddy, good to see you made it off the field!”
“Too many energy drinks for him earlier…” Interrupted Westie. “He needed a toilet break as soon as they started playing!” O’Toole continued to ignore Bridgey. His eyes were fixated on something.
“Mate, are you OK?” Asked Mossy.
“Not really…” Answered O’Toole in a quiet, shaky voice. “There’s something looking at me.”

“`SHUT THE DOOR!!!” Yelled Jackson. Mossy sprinted to the door and threw his entire body weight at it, feeling some resistance from the other side as it slammed. Milo and Jackson ran over to help keep it closed but the resistance got stronger. Something wanted IN!

Zombies Stop Play Pt 4

Friday, 13th June 2014

17:30, Swalec Stadium, Cardiff

The remaining Glamorgan team were silenced by what they saw. All but Jackson.

“Right, we need to think fast. Are we going to stay in here or are we going to try and get the hell out of this place? Either way we need to decide now.”
About five different answers came at once from his teammates. Jackson struggled to decipher each suggestion. The majority seemed to want to leave to get to their families but Mossy had other ideas.
“Are you boys crazy?” Yelled Mossy. “You all saw what one bite from the things can do! If we leave this room now, we won’t last five minutes!” Obvious-Lee picked up his shiny new Woodworm bat from the floor and took a few hard swipes at the air.
“You clearly haven’t seen me in the nets lately, bud! If these are zombies, I’ll take three heads off with one swing!” Jackson admired Lee’s spirit, but his confidence was severely misplaced.
“Come on boys, let’s be a little bit realistic shall we? You all saw how many strong men Tyrone Carter took out at the start. I know he’s a big, strong lad anyway but you can see what this disease does to people. They become faster and stronger… and for some weird reason develop a taste for people!” Tyrone couldn’t believe what he was actually saying to his team that he knew it needed to be said.
“I’m with Jackson on this one boys.” Added Mossy, putting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “The door to our changing room is pretty thick and we can use our bats as weapons.” Bridgey quietly put his hand up.
“You don’t need to put your hand up mate, this isn’t school!” Laughed Jackson. Bridgey was the number 3 batsman for Glamorgan. He was quiet but brilliant, and a little bit of an academic genius, forever trying to shake off the nickname Ceefax.
“Anyone know if any of the Essex Camp in the changing room right next to ours are OK? I mean, did anybody see them on the balcony?” Jackson looked at Mossy. Bridgey had made an excellent point. They may be safe now, but they shared balconies, with only a small fence to separate them.
“Everybody shut up!” Jackson whispered. “If any of the Essex lot ‘turned’ in there and hear us in here, they could come for us. We need to do some reccy. Mossy, Milo, come with me, and grab a bat.
“You can borrow my Dad’s shotgun if you want?” The whole team glared at Bridgey in disbelief.
“Shotgun! What the hell are you on about Ceefax?” Asked Jackson, walking over to a shifty looking Bridgey.
“It’s my dad’s. We went shooting yesterday up the valley and I put it in my kit bag. I’ve just forgotten to take it out. I’m not a weirdo, honest!” Bridgey pulled the shot gun from out of his bag and went to hand it to Jackson. “Do you know how to use it?”
“I’m from the valleys, of course I do!” Replied Jackson with a smile. “But I’m not gonna be the one using it. You can come with us.” Bridgey’s face dropped. I’m the brains, not the braun! He muttered to himself under his breath as the walked towards the balcony.
“The rest of you stay in here, grab any bats, stumps, anything that you can use as a weapon.” Added Mossy, following Jackson, Milo and Bridgey to the balcony.

Jackson arrived at the balcony door first, which was still open. He was about to cast a glance round the frame when he heard a loud bang on the deck about 5 feet away from him…

Zombies Stop Play Pt 3

Friday, 13th June 2014
17:00, Swalec Stadium, Cardiff

Roughly an hour had passed since Carter’s assault on his captain. Compared to the 7000 at the start, the ground was mostly empty apart from a few spectators randomly feasting on others. The odd entail flying into the sight screen…

Jackson and Mossy stood at the balcony watching the carnage as if they were watching a George A. Romero horror.
“What’s happening here bru?”Asked Mossy, turning to his best mate, who seemed to have grasped the situation much quicker that the others.
“No idea mate, no idea. This ever happen at Newlands?” Jackson asked his South African buddy.
“Can’t say that it has! This is like something out of a film!”

The two were disturbed by a loud cry from the changing room. Milo was shouting for his older brother.
“Jackson, Jackson! He’s awake!” Coach Simpson had awoken. His blood-red eyes looking up at Milo’s. His nose began to bleed which the Coach quickly stopped with a lick from his own tongue. Before Milo could get up and run, Coach Simpson grabbed him by the throat with an almost inhuman strength. His usual taste for tobacco had been substituted by young Welsh batsman blood.

Before he could do any real damage to Milo, Jackson and Mossy burst in along with a few others. They pulled Milo to safety and smashed poor Coach Simpson’s head in with a cricket bat. He moved no more. The men stood round him in disbelief at what they just did.
“I’m not gonna lie boyso, but I think we just killed the Coach, like.” Spin bowler Lee Davies was known for stating the obvious, hence his nickname ‘Obvious-Lee.’
“He wasn’t the Coach just then, he was one of them.” Replied Jackson, throwing his blood-smattered cricket bat to the floor next to him. ‘Once they’ve been bitten, they become Monsters, all of them.”
“More like zombies I’d say!” Added Mossy.
“But what I don’t get is why it only happened to some people and not everybody.” Said Obvious-Lee, kicking the Coach’ making sure he was still dead.
“Dunno boy.” Replied Jackson. Jackson quickly remembered that the England – Australia 1st Ashes test had been playing live on the TV in the other room. “We need to check if it’s everywhere!” He ran into the other room, followed by his team who clearly appreciated someone to look up to in the absence of their coach. The TV was nothing but a black screen with an apology from Sky Sports scrolling along the bottom.

The first Ashes Test is temporarily unavailable, turn to SKY News 24 for more information

Jackson changed the channel to the news and the boys stood staring at the screen in disbelief. A clearly flustered and nervous-sounding SKY Anchorman spoke.

…No one is able to explain as of yet why exactly this is happening and why it is so selective. Scientists are calling it a virus but tests are yet to produce any conclusive results. The Prime Minister has issued a statement asking the British public to stay indoors and make no attempt to travel. The streets are currently unsafe and all the affected are considered to be highly dangerous. Do not approach.

That moment, the screen went blank with a ‘Technical Difficulties’ signs rolling across the screen. Jackson reached for the TV and turned it off. Things were about to get a whole lot worse…

Zombies Stop Play Pt 2

Friday, 13th June 2014
16:30, Swalec Stadium, Cardiff

For the last 30 minutes, the Glamorgan squad and back room staff had been watching the carnage from the safety of their elevated balcony. They had barricaded the door so no one could get in. Their previous attempt to run out and escape to their cars in the car park behind the pavilion had been thwarted by the homicidal stewards that roamed the hallways, killing hospitality staff left, right and centre and producing even more red-eyed killers. Their wicketkeeper had already been bitten and ‘turned’ in his effort to run away so was locked out with the rest of the ‘infected.’

Jackson Jones, the 6ft 4″ Welsh all-rounder had assumed the leadership role as both his coach and captain lay unconscious on the changing room floor. Captain Charlie Wills had been thrown against the wall but carried safely back into the now-locked changing rooms by his teammates. Coach Simpson however had not only been clouted over the head with a full champagne bottle but had a tear on his arm from the teeth of the Stadium Operations Manager. Milo Jones, Jackson’s younger brother and favourite batting partner stayed with the coach under his brother’s instructions, just in case he ‘turned.’

From the balcony, Jackson could see young Joe sprinting across the pitch towards him, bat still in hand.
“Jackson, help! I need to get in!” He cried, taking swipes at the red-eyed assassins around him mid-sprint. Jackson thought quickly and asked his team for something they could use for rope that Joe could climb up with. As they searched, their American Head Groundsman, Cash Martin appeared at the bottom of the balcony with a rope from the hovercover. He tossed one end up to Jackson who then urged his teammates to hold on. Joe had managed to make it over safely, blood-spattered but still blue-eyed. Cash grabbed hold of Joe and launched him up the rope. His teammates pulled until Joe got safely to the top. Jackson tossed the rope back down for Cash but he waved ‘no’ with a blood-covered arm.
“I’ve been bitten guys, I need to stay down here!”
Jackson’s teammates were all shouting to him, telling him to stop being stupid and grab the rope but Jackson knew better. He yanked the rope back up to the anger of his team.
“What are you doing you tool! Throw it back down!” Cried his Jonty-esque fielder, Michael ‘Mossy’ Moss. Jackson turned to him angrily.
“And put our lives at risk all over again? No chance!”
Cash gave out a large cry of anger as his eyes turned the deathly blood-red, now shared by at least 2000 people within the ground. His haunting growling and snarling up at the balcony was thankfully, all he could do. For now, the men were safe, or for as long as the barricaded changing rooms doors held up…