The Undead_Day 22 Read online

‘They’re my friends too,’ she whispers softly. ‘Don’t kill them all...’

  *

  The day is as shit as I thought it would be, only shittier, and hot too. Damn hot.

  ‘It’s damn hot,’ Paula says, dropping from the Saxon in the nearest town centre an hour or so after waking up to some messed up semi-aggressive morning sex while being cajoled into letting my zombie infected girlfriend go off to build a zombie army to take on the other zombie army. Is she my girlfriend? Are we a couple? What a surreal thought.

  ‘You know where to go?’ I tune into the now and look over to see Maddox talking to Anja at the side of her car, which is a Volvo, which is Swedish, but she’s Danish and I drift off into another surreal moment.

  ‘South on the motorway towards Portsmouth then off at the junction you said…’ she repeats his directions while I look through the windscreen to the newborn baby asleep in the car seat and wonder what kind of life he has in front of him and decide it will be a shit one where something bad happens every half an hour, but I really hope not. Genuinely I hope he gets to live peacefully and never see or do the things we see and do.

  ‘Don’t stop moving, not for anything,’ Maddox says. ‘You’ve got the pistol?’

  ‘Yes, yes it’s here,’ Anja says, patting the holster on her hip. ‘I feel like a twat carrying it but…’

  We needed Anja’s car to get into town as there was no way we’d all fit in the Saxon but now she needs to leave so we can carry on being the heroic fighting unit we are. Apart from the fact we’re all withdrawn and quiet and being overly polite to each other in a snappy, biting, snipey, big-family-row kind of way.

  Charlie travelled in the horse box trailer thing behind the Saxon. The one she slept in all night and then woke up to do hard physical training while Mo and Dave beat each other up on their watch. She didn’t join in with them, but just kept to herself doing pull ups, push ups and stuff on her own.

  Clarence said Marcy gave him a small carrier bag of biscuit packets for his watch, which Jess nicked from the back of the Saxon and ran about with it in her mouth while Clarence chased after her, until Charlie came out, stopped Jess, took the bag of biscuits from her, gave them to Clarence then went back in to sleep without saying a word. I did ask Clarence why he had a bag of biscuits in the first place, but he said he couldn’t tell me, at which point Paula blushed and walked off to shout at everyone.

  We all say goodbye to Anja, hugging and shaking hands one at a time, apart from Dave who moves swiftly away in fear of another human being touching him, and Charlie who nods and lifts her hand while moving away on Jess.

  Then she goes, driving off in the Volvo while we stand about in that weird strained silence. All of us looking battered to hell, apart from Dave and Mo, and Maddox, and Marcy and Paula of course, and Charlie. Okay, so a few of us look battered to hell. Including Reggie who has also stayed silent and pensive and is currently sitting in the front seat of the Saxon staring at his splinted hand that Roy fashioned to keep his broken fingers straight.

  Awesome. Another great day in the new world. I look round expecting to see a horde charging us right now. Like a super big one armed with swords and ninja sticks.

  ‘Ninja sticks?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Huh?’ I blink at her, realising everyone is looking at me. ‘What?’

  ‘What’s ninja sticks?’ she asks.

  ‘I thought that,’ I say, peering at them suspiciously.

  ‘You said it…’ Paula says. ‘You said…a super big one armed with swords and ninja sticks…’

  ‘Didn’t. I thought it. Stop reading my head thoughts. Right, what are we doing again?

  ‘We’re getting new kit, Howie,’ she says.

  ‘Okay. From here?’ I ask, looking around the tiny town centre filled with the big brand name retailers that could afford the prime positions. It’s the same wherever we go. The same shops. The same signs. The same everything. If the infection didn’t come and kill us the boredom of the same shit in every town across the country would have.

  ‘They are all the same aren’t they,’ Roy says as a few nod and grumble in agreement.

  ‘Stop reading my head thoughts,’ I snap, glaring at everyone. ‘Weirdos…right. On with it…er…where can we get coffee from?’

  ‘No power, boss,’ Nick says. ‘We used Roy’s van for that.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ I grumble. ‘Fine…everyone stay here. Dave, me and you will check that side…Clarence, you check that side. Charlie, range out a bit but not too far…and shout if you see a coffee shop that’s like open and has power on…’

  I head off with Dave towards the nearest building line, peering into stores and shops. Stepping through broken doors and windows to sniff the stale air and view the ground, looking for recent motion or foot traffic. We do one side, steady and thoroughly, crunching over broken glass, senses ramped and heightened. I reach for my radio, thinking to ask Mo if he’s getting any weird vibes then remember we don’t have any radios.

  ‘All yours,’ I say to Paula after meeting back in the middle with Clarence to the same awful weighted silence.

  She sighs heavily, looking as weary and beaten as everyone else. It’s still early morning but the energy has gone from us, like we’ve got nothing inside to give.

  ‘Right, come on then,’ she says without enthusiasm. ‘Best get it done. Marcy? Give me a hand?’

  ‘Mo, go with them,’ Blowers says.

  Cigarettes get passed round in that awful weighted silence and time passes until they come back with armfuls of clothes, bags, torches and batteries. The things we had before Blinky was killed, but it doesn’t feel right now. Nothing feels right now. I wonder over to the Saxon, heaving up onto the driver's step to peer in at Reginald still staring at his broken hand.

  ‘You alright?’ I ask.

  ‘No. No, I am not alright. My glasses are broken,’ he says in a tone which is perhaps the saddest I have ever heard.

  ‘Do you still need glasses?’ I ask. ‘Hasn’t the infection thing fixed your eyes.’

  He just looks at me like I suggested we share bodily fluids with a bottle of massage oil. ‘I like my glasses.’

  ‘Right. Okay…we’ll get you some new glasses.’

  ‘I am very happy at this news,’ he says in a way that suggests he isn’t very happy at all.

  ‘Great. Should we doing anything today? I mean…like a plan or something? No? Right. Great chat. Er…catch you in a bit then.’

  I drop down and walk back just as Charlie dismounts to take a bottle of water from a case on the ground.

  ‘Could have passed you one up,’ Cookey says.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she says dully without looking at him. ‘Hot,’ she adds, as though needing to fill the awkward silence that follows.

  ‘I could fan you?’ Cookey asks, making a valiant attempt at a joke. ‘I’m your fan…yay…’

  She doesn’t reply, she doesn’t even look at him but walks off with an obvious act of placing distance between her and everyone else and the lad shuts down. Turning away to walk off and stare down the street.

  ‘Okay, at least we’ve got some kit again,’ Paula says, sorting through the now packed bags. ‘Underwear and spare tops inside. Water, batteries, torches…same as we had before basically. Nick, you got a smoke please?’

  Roy tuts, shaking his head and making a point of moving away again.

  ‘What?’ Paula snaps.

  ‘You’re smoking more and more,’ he points out.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Weapons,’ I say, cutting in before a row can develop. ‘Axes, knives…’

  ‘We’ll need a DIY store,’ Paula says tightly, taking the cigarette from Nick while giving Roy a look of daggers.

  Silence again. Paula glaring at Roy. Roy shaking his head. Reginald on his own in the Saxon. Maddox off to one side, watching us all intently. Clarence rubbing his neck. The lads pensive. Mo and Dave standing side by side and I catch Marcy staring at me with a loaded expression. ‘No,’ I
say bluntly.

  ‘What?’ Paula asks, looking from Marcy to me.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say.

  ‘Mr Howie, can I take a few minutes to get changed and cleaned up?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Yeah sure, want someone to go with you?’

  ‘I will be fine, thank you,’ she strides off towards the building line with her new bag as Paula gives Marcy a look.

  ‘Well go on,’ Paula prompts.

  ‘Just leave it,’ I say.

  ‘Oh is it a thing between you two?’ Paula asks.

  ‘It concerns everyone,’ Marcy says.

  ‘What does?’ Paula asks as the street fills with the sound of smashing glass. We spin round, hearts booming, hands lifting rifles and already striding out to see Charlie slamming the butt of her rifle into a plate glass window.

  ‘Fuck me,’ I mutter, my heart in my mouth.

  She looks around, hearing my utterance. ‘It was locked…’

  ‘Need a hand?’ Clarence asks.

  ‘Done it,’ she says, raking the glass out before stepping through.

  ‘What were we saying?’ Paula asks as everyone calms down from the fleeting panic.

  Marcy looks at me without hostility, without anger. Open, sincere and honest. I do what everyone does and sigh heavily while reaching up to rub the stress from my temples that already feel grimy with sweat. ‘Marcy said she can end it,’ I say, snapping every head over.

  ‘Right,’ Paula says tightly before inhaling on her cigarette as the tension in our group ramps even higher. ‘I see,’ she adds in that Paula way of expressing extreme displeasure. ‘And how exactly would you do that?’

  ‘You know how,’ Marcy says quietly, looking around at everyone. ‘I can end it.’

  ‘Genocide again?’ Maddox asks.

  ‘At least I’m asking this time,’ she says quietly.

  ‘That’s something,’ he snorts under his breath.

  A crash makes us all jump again. ‘SORRY!’ Charlie shouts from inside the shop. ‘I KNOCKED A…A THING OVER…’

  ‘YOU WANT SOMEONE WITH YOU?’ I call out, my heart once again going like the clappers.

  ‘NO.’

  ‘Listen, just go to the fort and wait for me,’ Marcy says earnestly. We start making noises to show our disagreement but she carries on. ‘Please! Just listen…’

  ‘Marcy,’ Blowers says.

  ‘No, Simon. I felt you die. We all did. Same with Blinky. I can’t go through that again. None of us can…look what I did yesterday, I can end it. Go home. Go to Lilly. Let me…’

  ‘No,’ Nick says firmly, giving the first solid voice despite the offer of going back to see Lilly.

  ‘Nick, see sense…I can infect and I can control what I infect. I can end it.’

  ‘Jesus, Marcy. Have you heard yourself?’

  ‘Fuck off, Maddox.’

  ‘Innocent people,’ Paula says, her voice flat and hard. ‘Children…’

  ‘Can you do it without turning kids?’ Roy asks.

  ‘Roy!’ Paula snaps.

  ‘I have the right to ask questions, Paula,’ he says angrily.

  ‘Yes,’ Marcy says. ‘I…I can try anyway…’

  ‘Try?’ Roy asks.

  ‘We’re not having this conversation,’ Paula says.

  ‘If the kids are with their families I can’t just leave them,’ Marcy says. ‘Maybe I could get loads of the kids together with some adults and leave them somewhere or…’

  ‘What the fuck?’ Paula asks. ‘A creche? Are you being serious? Hey excuse me, I need your mummy and daddy to help rid the world of evil by infecting them with a fucking disease but don’t worry, stay here with this old…’

  ‘Paula,’ Marcy cuts in, an edge to her voice.

  ‘That is fucking sick,’ Paula says, inhaling again to blow the smoke away in a cloud that rolls up into the sky. ‘Sick as fuck…sicker than fucking sick…’

  ‘You wouldn’t let Maddox go yesterday because you lost one…’ Marcy snaps.

  ‘Don’t you bloody dare!’

  ‘I will dare, Paula…they will all die if they keep going. Mo is a child…’

  ‘I ain’t a kid,’ he snorts, too high-pitched and quickly clearing his throat to speak deeper. ‘I ain’t a kid,’ he says again.

  ‘Smooth, Mo,’ Nick mutters.

  ‘Point right there,’ Marcy says. ‘I love Mo like a little brother and by fuck am I letting him get killed when I’ve got the thing that can finish it.’

  ‘You’d have to kill more to do it!’ Paula shouts.

  ‘BUT IT WON’T BE THEM DYING,’ Marcy fires back, waving her hand at everyone. ‘And Reggie told me to be what I was…’

  ‘TO GET US OUT THE SHIT,’ Paula shouts. ‘Not to…to…’

  ‘Go back to the fort. Protect Lilly and the children there. That’s where you should be…’

  A crunch of broken glass and we look over to Charlie stepping out of the shop now changed into clean clothes. I hear Marcy draw air with intent to keep going and move in swifter than Dave slicing a throat.

  ‘Enough for now,’ I say firmly like the leader of men that I am. And women of course. And a dog. And a horse.

  ‘All I’m saying is that there’s no need for you to suffer anymore,’ Marcy continues, ignoring my valiant leadership skills.

  ‘Orders, Mr Howie?’ Charlie asks, reaching Jess and obviously wondering whether to mount back up or not and at least one person here recognises my authority.

  ‘We need to find a DIY store or an electronics place for radios and drones and…’

  ‘Can we discuss this first?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Talking of drones,’ I say, giving a little smile as I look round at the grim faces. ‘Drone joke? No? Right, awesome…’

  Paula squeezes her eyes closed and pinches the top of her nose, sighing long and heavy. ‘Can we just load up and find another town?’

  ‘In what?’ I ask.

  ‘In anything,’ she snaps.

  ‘Like what?’ I ask again. ‘There’s nothing here…’ I cast my arm out at the street that other than the Saxon is currently devoid of all vehicles.

  ‘Just find something.’

  ‘Okay…I shall cast my magic invisible fuckstick and make a van appear down that bloody road shall I?’ I say while waving my magic invisible fuckstick at the end of the road, from which comes the screaming noises of an engine stuck in low gear accompanied with a squeal of tyres which all come a second before the bloody great big armoured cash in transit van goes stonking across the road into the shop front on the other side with a resounding crash. ‘Wow,’ I mumble, looking from the van to my magic invisible fuckstick.

  ‘Ask for coffee,’ Blowers whispers.

  Two

  Day Twelve.

  Maybe he is gay. Mind you he did have a good stare at her boobs last night when he thought she wasn’t looking, but then it could have just been the sight of it that drew his eyes rather than a lustful look, so yes, maybe he is gay. No. That doesn’t seem right. Men like Gregori are not gay.

  She blinks at herself, realising she just thought the most un-PC thought ever by assuming a rugged cold-blooded serial killing psychopathic freak must be heterosexual. Who was that gay serial killer in America? Was he gay or did he just kill gay people? She stands upright, thinking hard while the water from the shower beats down on her chest.

  ‘Cassseeeeeeee?’

  ‘What?’ she calls out.

  ‘Need a wee wee.’

  ‘I’m behind the curtain.’

  She hears the door open and peeks out to see the boy peeking in through the bathroom door. ‘Morning sunshine,’ she beams.

  ‘Morning,’ he grins back, all toothy with his blond hair all tussled and sleep creases on his face.

  ‘Have a wee then,’ she says, disappearing back behind the curtain to carry on shaving her legs while pondering why the hell Gregori didn’t try and fuck her last night despite literally showing him her tits. The top she wore was so low cut and she bent ove
r like a hundred times in front of him, lingering and pausing, looking up and waiting, and waiting, and bloody waiting.

  ‘Sleep now,’ he said after eating.

  ‘Yeah?’ she asked, winking at him with what was a very clear open suggestion for him to say Hey Cassie, why don’t you come to bed with me so we can fuck all night. Except he didn’t say that. He just went to bed leaving her wearing a stupidly low cut top on her own.

  ‘Is this our house now?’ the boy asks.

  ‘Er…dunno,’ she calls out. ‘Why? Do you like it?’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do you like it?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know, do you like it?’ he replies, giggling at the sudden game developing.

  ‘No,’ she says bluntly. ‘It’s boring.’

  ‘I don’t know, do you like it?’ he asks, thinking the game should still be going.

  ‘Go and get some breakfast.’

  ‘I don’t know, do you want some breakfast?’

  ‘Go on, sod off…let me shower in peace.’

  ‘Okay, Casseeeee!’

  She peeks out to see him running out of the door that he leaves wide open then looks over to the splashes of urine on the toilet seat that he didn’t bother lifting up and the other splashes all over the floor. ‘Door’s still open,’ she says under her breath, going back under the shower to rinse off before switching the shower off and stepping out while wrapping the towel around her body.

  A noise from the hall and she turns to see Gregori emerging from his room with the bright sunlight streaming through the windows giving light to the scars on his face as he turns to fix those emotionless eyes on her standing in the bathroom. She swallows, holding the towel in place while he simply stares without expression.

  ‘Shower’s free,’ she says.

  He nods once.

  ‘The boy’s already up.’

  He nods once again then walks off.

  ‘Gregori?’

  He stops and looks back.

  ‘I er, I forgot to ask last night but has the boy been bitten by a dog?’

  ‘Dog?’

  ‘We were reading a story and he said he hates dogs and he wants you to make the dog’s brains come out.’

  ‘I know nothing about this dog,’ he says while she shifts a bit to make the towel ride a bit lower.