Purification

was a wall of depressingly dark and dead television screens, to their left a similarly dead and powerless display of stereo equipment.
    The soldier leading the group stopped moving.
    ‘So what do we do now?’ he asked.
    ‘Get some bloody light in here for a start,’ a voice from the darkness replied. Michael recognised it as belonging to Peter Guest, a quiet whisper of a man who generally kept himself to himself and to whom he had only spoken a handful of times.
    ‘There’s bound to be something in here we can use,’
    Donna said hopefully as she looked round through the gloom. She could hear movement nearby and, although she was almost completely certain that it was another one of her group she could hear, she wasn’t totally sure.
    Standing just to the side of Stonehouse, Phil Croft raised his cigarette lighter to his face, the dancing orange flame burning a bright hole in the darkness. Scrambling through the shop debris towards the light with suddenly increased speed, a body lurched at Stonehouse, knocking him off-balance and pushing him back into the huddled group of survivors. Instinctively the soldier picked himself back up, shoved the corpse back on its already unsteady feet, and then lifted his rifle and shot the pitiful creature through the head. It dropped heavily to the ground at his feet, its face a bloody mass of putrefied flesh and splintered bone.
    ‘You bloody idiot,’ Donna hissed. ‘Christ, make some more noise why don’t you? We’d better get some damn light sorted out now because every dead body in this fucking place will be on its way over to us.’
    ‘Have you stopped to wonder why none of us bother carrying guns?’ Baxter spat. ‘A single shot might take one of them out, but there are thousands of the bloody things, and the noise you make getting rid of one will bring a hundred of them sniffing round you.’
    Knowing that their words had just caused panic within the group of anxious survivors, Donna began to search the nearby shelves for something to illuminate the dark building. Others followed her lead. Kelly Harcourt, the soldier Michael had spoken to earlier, disappeared back outside and then returned with a handful of torches from the personnel carrier.
    ‘Why the hell didn’t you bring them in with you in the first place?’ Donna snapped, snatching one of the torches from her.
    ‘Give her a break,’ Baxter sighed as he peered nervously into the darkness.
    The torches were handed round and several circles of bright light were shone around the vast shop floor. They heard the clattering of a display unit being knocked over as at least one more clumsy body became aware of their presence and began to stumble over towards them.
    ‘Let’s stay here,’ whispered Michael. ‘It’ll be easier if we stay in one place and wait for them to come to us.’
    ‘How long do we wait?’ a voice from behind him asked.
    ‘As long as we have to,’ he answered back. ‘Why? You got anything better to do?’
    The first body lumbered into view. Moving with surprising speed and dragging one useless foot behind, the creature was illuminated by the light from Donna’s torch.
    Its face (as much of its face that remained intact) was blue-grey and waxy in appearance with dried, parchment-like skin clinging to its skull, making it appear hollow and frail.
    It wore the ragged remnants of a store attendant’s uniform -
    a blue shirt (with a collar that now appeared several sizes too big because of the body’s emaciation) and a red tie.
    Donna found the fact that the body was still wearing a tie bizarre. It even had a name badge pinned to its shirt pocket.
    The name had been obscured by mould and dribbles of blood and other bodily discharges which had dripped down from its decaying face over time. Cooper disposed of the body by swinging a fire extinguisher through the air and virtually knocking its listless head from its shoulders. It collapsed to the ground as three more bodies lumbered awkwardly into view.
    Half an hour was sufficient time to enable the survivors to rid themselves of the last bodies and dispose of them in a heap outdoors. Pleased to finally be occupied for a while, many of the survivors then busied themselves around the building, collecting anything they thought might prove useful. The bodies outside had yet to materialise in the vast numbers the group had come to expect. When the hordes of corpses had failed to appear a handful of people had ventured out into the open for a