Zombie War: Health + Safety Regs

Chapter 1 - Manual Moving and Handling

Philippa Nolan pushed back the sodden strands of fine blonde hair off her forehead and sighed.

The ancient computer screen in front of her flickered. She typed to the constant threat of losing her work as the save function didn't work properly and the power was always going out.

She glanced over to the other side of the battered table where her boss Glen Wrotham was trying to put a huge pile of forms into alphabetical order.

'Glen, what do we mean about moving and handling here? Is it the human victims of attacks in the hospitals, the zombies themselves or clearing away the body parts they leave behind them?

Glen frowned; he didn't like questions and, to his mind, Philippa asked far too many.

'Well what do you think? Of course it's the people in the hospital. You may also want to include best practices for the army and emergency services to use when they pick the victims up.'

'You know I don't think they worry too much about policies and procedures when they're scraping people off the floor or untangling them from a zombie attack. It's more of a chucking them in the back of a truck and trying to get everyone out alive and unbitten type of gig,' Boyd, their resident IT nerd, interjected from the corner where he was tinkering with the server.

'Also I heard they don't even take people to hospital anymore if they've been bitten,' Philippa said.

'What do you mean Philippa?' Glen asked with a glare. 'Where else would they take them?'

Philippa swallowed nervously. Glen intimidated her a little and she knew all it would take was one word from him and she would lose her job.

'I've heard....I mean someone told me.....they don't bother with attempting medical treatment anymore or wait until someone's on the turn before neutralising them. They just drive the trucks to mass graves they've dug out in the desert, line them up in the bottom of the hole and shoot them. When the graves are full they cover them over and dig a new one.'

'Philippa,' Glen began, with a warning note in his voice but Boyd interrupted before he could get any further.

'Well, I've heard they're not even wasting the bullets anymore. They're just piling them in and burying them alive. Hoping there's so much sand on top of them they can't dig themselves back out when they turn.'

Philippa shuddered.

'No, they can't do that, they're still people. It can't be happening.'

'How many times have I had to speak to you both about listening to gossip? Isn't there enough bad news coming in from the war zone without having to be subjected to malicious rumours as well? Of course anyone rescued from an attack is taken to a hospital and treated. It's only if they turn that steps are taken. Once they are infected they are vermin,' Glen said crisply. 'They need to be exterminated so they can't spread the infection further. I'm surprised at you two, I thought you knew better.'

'If they turn? You ever hear of anyone bitten who wasn't infected?' Boyd asked.

Glen turned his back on Boyd and addressed Philippa directly.

'Look, could you please stop getting distracted and get on with it. We need to get the draft to the Health and Safety Committee for initial approval before the end of next week. They want the regs finalised and distributed as soon as possible. It's not surprising its chaos out there with no proper policies and procedures to follow. '

Boyd sniggered into his hand, changing it into a cough when he saw Philippa raise her eyebrows in alarm and Wrotham's rotund torso beginning to swing back to face him.