God Rest Their Souls (A British Zombie Horror)

By Shaun Whittington

What was supposed to be another mundane shift at the hospital, turned out to be a life and world changing event.

James Mason is a normal guy, a porter, trying to make ends meet, and is faced with the realisation, like everybody else, that a plague is sweeping across the country that has only been seen in horror films.

With only a handful of staff left, the group are stuck in the hospital, hoping to ride out the night, but the living dead, as well as other outside forces, have different ideas.

Not everyone will get out alive.

Not for persons under the age of 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shaun Whittington
• Release date: Jan 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215355565

Shaun Whittington

Shaun mainly writes dark tales with twists, not necessarily all out horror, and likes to keep his writing spelling to U.K. English, because it's easier for him.He has written short stories over a number of years for First Publishing and Skive Magazine, before turning to novels.Some of his novels are available for FREE. And he has recently signed a contract with Severed Press for his apocalyptic Ghostland books.Books available since July 2013:DemonsBillyThe Monkey WingMisty FallsBlack HourThe Prison DiariesNutjobThe Z WordSnatchers (a zombie novel)Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't SleepSnatchers 3; The Dead Don't CrySnatchers 4: The Dead Don't PitySnatchers 5: The Dead Don't BreatheSnatchers 6: The Dead Don't FeelSnatchers 7: The Dead Don't YieldSnatchers 8: The Dead Don't PraySnatchers 9: The Dead Don't ScreamSnatchers 10: The Dead Don't CareSnatchers 11: The Dead Don't KnockSnatchers 12: The Dead Don't YellSnatchers 13: The Dead Don’t FearSnatchers 14: The Dead Don’t HateSnatchers 15: The Dead Don't HurtSnatchers 16: The Dead Don't RunSnatchers 17: The Dead Don't MournMonsterlandMonsterland 2Monsterland 3The Girl with the Flying Saucer EyesSome Men are Haunted (Raven Hill)Some Men are Evil (Raven Hill 2)Some Men are Killers (Raven Hill 3)GhostlandGhostland 2Ghostland 3The CanavarsThe TravellersFor more information on new releases or just general questions. You can go to his author's page on Facebook: Shaun Whittington Author or use the link:https://www.facebook.com/WhittingtonShaun

Book preview

Prologue

The man woke up in the office with tears in his eyes. His eyes widened, he quickly sat up, and he suddenly realised he had dosed in the chair and was still in the CMU ward of the maternity building. The clock on the wall stated that it was a few minutes past seven in the morning.

He had been having a nightmare, but had woken up in another one that he couldn’t escape from.

Oh, Jesus.

He dropped his head in his hands and soon sat up straight when the pain, the same pain that had dragged him out of his nightmare, made him wince with discomfort. He lifted his bandaged left hand and shook his head.

He looked at the desk to see a handgun sitting there, and a goodbye letter written by a SCN called Julie Norton from one of the wards in the hospital. He looked down on his injured left hand that had been wrapped. Some blood had seeped through, but it looked relatively clean. He was going to remove it eventually, and run the injury under a cold tap and try and keep it clean somehow. He would also have to put a fresh bandage on, but it was too soon. He had only wrapped it half an hour ago, before he nodded off, and didn’t know how long it would take for it to heal. He had his little finger removed after being bitten by one of the dead, but he wasn’t sure if he had removed it in time. He felt okay for now, but panic ran through his veins just thinking about turning into one of them.

He stood up and shuffled his tired feet across the office floor, heading for the small toilet in the office. He looked in the small mirror and produced a groan. He checked his eyes to see if they were changing, but they looked the same and he felt okay, despite missing one of his fingers.

It was nearly seven in the morning, so daylight was seeping its way into the room and no light bulb was needed. He now inspected his face in the mirror, running his fingers across his skin, and then started to run the cold tap. There were specks of blood on his face from an altercation earlier, as if someone had flicked a wet paintbrush at him, and he cupped both hands under the icy water and splashed and rubbed his face hard, trying to remove the blood off his face that wasn’t his.

He inspected his now soaked face once more and it looked clear.

He left the small toilet area, entered the office, and sat back down where he was sitting before.

He looked down at his injured left hand once more, released a heavy sigh, wondering again if he had been infected or not. He was confident that he was okay, but only time would tell.

HOURS EARLIER

Chapter One

James Mason groaned as he woke after nine in the morning. He was lying on his sofa bed, ground floor, in the front room, and slowly got out of the bed that he had slept on for the last three years.

He and his wife were still intimate, but the separate rooms had been on the cards for years. James had always been a light sleeper and, after years of getting up in the early hours of the morning and sleeping on the couch because his wife’s snoring would wake him up, he eventually started sleeping on the couch full time, and then his wife decided to invest in a proper sofa bed to protect his back.

James was a hospital porter, and on this day, Monday 9th December, he was on a 3-11 shift. He hated the back shifts, but that was his shift pattern. It was Monday, so he had five to go before the weekend. His wife was at work and his kids were at school, so his mornings on these shifts would be uneventful. He would go for a run on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and then have something to eat and wait around until after two, and then he would leave for work. But on the days that he didn’t run, Tuesday and Thursday, he would just sit around the house and watch documentaries until it was time to leave. The only thing that would break the monotony was that his son would turn up at lunchtime from school. His daughter never came home from lunch, she stayed at school to be with her friends.

His wife, Danielle, was an infection control nurse and worked at an office three miles from home. His son, Thomas, was sixteen years old, dark hair and was big built. He was a gym user and went five times a week with friends. Thomas had one year left at school and had no idea what he wanted to do.

His daughter, Isobel, was nearly two years younger than her sixteen-year-old brother. She was a gifted artist and it looked like she was heading down the fashion design route. Five people in her year had been selected for a special advanced art class, and she was one of the lucky ones that had been selected, making James and Danielle very proud.

James went to his local gym for a run, and made the short walk back after he had finished. He went for a shower, put some casual clothes on until it was time for work, and looked at the time. Ten minutes and his son would be in from school for his lunch.

James put the oven on and put two sausages on the grill, preparing his son a sausage sandwich that he loved. He was soon in and Thomas was unusually quiet. His son tucked into his sandwich and James decided to leave him and ask what was wrong after he had eaten.

James took a quick look at the clock and could see it was half one. His son needed to be at school for two, and James would be leaving for work a few minutes after.

James was watching a documentary on the rise of China, and paused it once he heard feet entering the back room he was in. His son entered and told his dad that he was going back to school.

Wait a minute, son, James spoke. He stood up and approached his sensitive boy. He had put on a bit of muscle since starting the gym nearly a year ago, was a couple of inches taller than James, but he was quite a gentle and loveable boy.

What is it? Thomas groaned.

He had his bag over his shoulder, his red and black tie hung loosely from his creased white shirt, and his black padded jacket was unzipped.

What’s up with you? his dad asked. You seem a bit peed off.

Thomas scratched awkwardly at his dark hair and shook his head.

Is it girls? his dad persisted. Are you being bullied?

It’s not that.

Then what is it?

He hunched his shoulders and took a while to speak. It’s that thing that happened yesterday, he began. It’s spreading.

That outbreak at Glasgow University?

Thomas nodded.

That was down to animal protestors.

According to Twitter, or X, or whatever they call themselves now, they were attacked by some of the animals that were being tested. You know, like that film Twenty-Eight Days Later.

That was monkeys, said James. These were dogs.

I still can’t believe that this country does animal testing.

It’s usually the universities and medical schools that do it.

Do you think we’ll have to go back to wearing masks again?

No. James placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. Stop worrying about stuff and go to school.

His son nodded, an unconvincing nod, and left the house, telling his dad that he loved him. The door was shut before James could respond, but said, I love you, too, son, anyway.

Chapter Two

James turned up at work ten minutes before three o’clock, and was surprised to have found a space. He parked by the facilities building and headed inside to the supervisor’s office. He was wearing his steel toe-capped issued work shoes, blue combat trousers, and his light green NHS polo shirt. Over his shirt was his blue NHS jacket and although it was December, the temperature was reasonable.

He dropped his bag and jacket off at the porters’ office that was situated at the Emergency Department, and then went back outside and walked to the supervisor’s office, next to the main entrance, to get a radio and a work’s phone. He logged in, and had a look on the task management app to see how many jobs were to be completed. He could see that a patient from Ward 3 needed taken to the Discharge Lounge, and selected the job. He grabbed a wheelchair and headed for Ward 3.

He was told by one of the nurses that the patient was in room one, bed three, and took the female patient to the Discharge Lounge. James arrived at the lounge, handed the discharge sheet to one of the nurses, and parked the chair. He waited for one of them to assist him and was disappointed that he couldn’t see Jasmine Taylor. Jasmine was a lovely woman, kind hearted, attractive, and was always nice to James.

When James started his job over eighteen months ago, everybody was wearing masks because of a pandemic, but since the masks had been dropped a couple of months back, he finally began to see what his colleagues looked like, and Jasmine took his eye straightaway. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be at the Discharge Lounge on this particular day. Instead, there was a young blonde woman called Vicki.

And how are we today, Mr Mason? Vicki spoke with a cheeky grin.

Better now I’ve seen your sweet face, was James’s flirty response.

He could see one of the nurses rolling her eyes, and told her to take a chill pill and that the pair of them were just having a laugh.

James turned to Vicki, winked, and told her that he’d see her later.

Can’t wait, she said.

He walked away and selected the next job. It was a two-person job, and it was a patient in a bed going to Endoscopy from the AMU ward. He heard a clicking sound on the phone, telling him that a colleague had also selected the job and would be joining him. It was the supervisor, Paul Cockburn.

Fuck, James muttered, as he made his way through the Main Reception area. I hate that prick.

He was at the ward some two minutes later and could see Cockburn chatting up one of the nurses. Cockburn was a single man in his thirties, painfully thin, although he ate like a pig, and sported a bleached blonde hairdo.

Cockburn and the nurse were still talking and both had their phones out, looking at videos.

Cockburn took a sideways glance once James Mason had entered the ward and asked him, Have yer seen this shit?

Nope.

James had no interest what Cockburn was looking at.

I mean, why isn’t this stuff on mainstream media, on the news? Cockburn moaned.

Maybe they just don’t want to panic people.

There’s that mass fight outside Glasgow Uni on Sunday, some riots and three people killed in Paisley, and two young girls were attacked by a group o’ men in Sauchiehall Street in the early hours o’ the morning.

So the attacks are in Scotland?

Initially, the nurse began to speak. She was small, pretty thing, in her thirties. But some people have posted fresh attacks that happened in Newcastle, Rochdale and Stafford.

James raised his eyebrows. Getting closer then.

I don’t care if it’s another outbreak, Cockburn snapped. I’m not going back to wearing masks again.

But this isn’t an airborne thing, the nurse told him. This … I don’t really know what this is.

Anyway, James sighed. Shall we get this patient to Endoscopy, or what?

Okay, Cockburn winked at the nurse and said, I’ll see yer later, honey.

She giggled and her cheeks flushed a rose colour.

Give me strength, James whispered, shaking his head.

Chapter Three

James was halfway into his shift and decided to have his dinner break earlier than normal. He went at seven o’clock and decided to have it at the gantry, listening to the Bossanova album by his favourite band, The Pixies. This was a place that was quiet, had tables and chairs, a piano, and was situated above the Main Reception area where the shop and café were.

He had a half hour dinner break and videos were popping up on his social media pages, and now even the BBC’s website were showing blurred and edited footage of a group of teenagers being attacked by a vociferous group. No weapons were used, but the victims were scratched, bitten, and one had died from his horrendous injuries. The unusual thing about the video was that the attackers eventually backed off, allowing the victims to get to their feet, and joined the group as they all now ran together to their next destination, wherever that was going to be.

What the fuck’s going on?

A series of experts were being interviewed as well as a member of PETA who stated that the attacks were only a matter of time. She told the anchorman that three million animals are experimented on in the twelve hundred labs around the UK and one dies every eight seconds. Experimental research with animals were usually conducted in universities, medical schools, pharmaceutical companies, defence establishments, and commercial facilities that provided animal-testing services to the industry, and she warned the anchorman that there was illegal activity in these labs that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t just about finding cures for cancer and other diseases, animals were being tested for new gases used for warfare, which the anchorman argued that she was talking nonsense.

James shook his head and decided to give himself some time off social media. He got himself into a state a few months back after reading and watching about the conflict in Ukraine, thinking that there was going to be a nuclear war soon.

Once his break was over, James stood and walked to his car that was parked at the facilities building.

He stepped outside and was going to do what he normally did: Put his bag and coat in his car, then move his car and park nearer the main entrance, at the Discharge Lounge that was closed at eight o’clock.

He parked up and could see a rare sight. Vince, the stray hospital cat was outside. It didn’t have a collar, an owner, and was only seen on the hospital grounds. If ever James had anything he could give it, he would. He assumed the cat relied on patients and staff giving it food, as well as the mice that were available on the grounds.

He saw the male cat and beckoned it over. He crouched down and Vince, who normally James never bothered with, crept toward him as if it was advancing toward its prey. It eventually reached him, hesitated for a little while, and then sniffed his fingers. Vince backed away, but not from fear, more from disappointment that James Mason had no food for it. Despite this, it stepped forward again and rubbed his face against his hand, purring loudly.

He stroked the cat, from head to the tail, and it responded by nudging him against his knee.

There’s a good boy, James said softly.

He continued to stroke the cat and smiled, realising that he had made a friend.

His work’s phone went off, which startled the cat, and it started to trot away and eventually disappeared into the bushes.

James stood up and could hear both knees crack on doing this. He looked at his phone and clicked on a job for a patient from one of the wards to go for a CT scan. The patient’s name was John Benson, and the nurse that had put the information on the portertrack was Julie Norton.

Right, he sighed. Back to it.

Chapter Four

James Mason went into the office and put on the kettle, and then he sat