Mike glared at him.
He saw the man close in with the confidence of a champion boxer, holding a microphone like he was hosting a talent show; his swagger annoying to make Mike forget about the irate man.
“…Are you going to tell us what’s going on, officer?” the irate man asked, smiling at the TV crew.
The reporter winked at Mike as his crew gathered around the police car, setting up a video camera onto a tripod.
“Your audience awaits, Mike,” the reporter sarcastically said, pushing the microphone into his face. “I do believe these people want some answers…In fact, I think the whole town needs to know what’s going on.” The reporter was loving every moment of this and Mike knew it. “Don’t forget to comb your hair before we record you.”
The reporter’s name was Chris Maudlin. A man of only five feet six inches but whose voice was feared by most, including Mike. No one wanted to be interviewed by him because he had no filter with the questions he asked.
He had become an enemy of Mike’s ever since almost costing Mike his job a few months ago. He’d written a story about Mike for the local newspaper that included information not relevant to the interview, like Mike’s younger years when he’d dabbled in drugs and alcohol. Mike was furious when he read it. There was no need for Chris to add that but he wanted the locals to know what type of law enforcement they had protecting them. But Mike knew the real reason behind why Chris wrote it. It was because the bank robbers were still at large. Chris still blamed him for their escape after murdering his mother.
“I might’ve known you’d be sniffin’ for a story,” Mike said, glaring at him. “But, as you can see, we’re very busy dealing with a crisis…We don’t need you stickin’ your nose in.”
“On the contrary,” Chris replied, waving the microphone from side to side. “I believe, if anything is going on, then the public should have the right to know about it. Don’t you?”
Mike wasn’t impressed that someone, maybe from the street, had leaked information to the television station. He wanted to smack Chris in the face but the camera was pointing right at him.
He shuddered as the crowd became restless again, hearing more shouts of – We need to know the truth – and – Don’t mess us around – to almost make him want to leave. He knew he needed a different approach to not only gain the crowds respect again but to also quieten Chris; needing to find one now before the TV crew started filming. He smiled as he tried his best to ignore Chris, hoping the plan he’d just thought of would get the bystanders off his back and put the reporter under pressure.
“I agree,” he softly said, confusing Chris. “But may I have a word with you in private first?”
“Are you being serious?”
“Yes, I am…Away from the camera.”
Mike was aware of the crowd following his every move as thoughts of the plan not working made him quiver. He wanted to put the ball in Chris’ court by letting him in on some information, knowing the crowd would wonder what it was and then turn on him for answers instead.
But how much information would be enough?
He slowly walked away from the car before heading towards the side of the Smythes’ house, smirking as Chris handed the microphone over to a crew member and followed.
“What’s going on now?” muttered one of the neighbours, as the men disappeared from view.
“I have no idea but it’s doin’ my head in!” cried out the irate man.
But no one moved. They just observed, hoping to see a sight of the two men.
***
Mike waited for Chris to reach the back garden, but he gulped and panicked after a dubious expression spread across Chris’ face. He felt sad as he choked on the memories relating to the robbery, leaving him desperately trying to find something to say before losing his nerve. But Chris just looked him up and down.
“Come on!” Chris snapped, turning to walk away. “I’ve not got all day…I need to get my report done.”
Mike stuttered.
He couldn’t help it after Chris’ ability to crush people without touching them had gotten to him.
“Come on, Chr…is,” he spilt from his mouth. “I don’t want another fi…ght with you.”
“Another fight?” Chris scowled. “We’re still having the same fight from three months ago…Do you remember my mother?”
Mike moved closer, reaching out a hand, but Chris backed away.
“How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry for her loss?... Hey?”
“As many times as it takes until you catch the bastards who killed her.”
Mike glanced down the side of the house, sweating from thoughts of the crowd approaching, but, after seeing no one there breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m still working on that. You need to trust me…I’ll find them and bring them to justice.” He reached out and touched Chris’ arm. “I just wish you’d stop blaming me…If I could turn back time and capture the robbers before they entered the bank I would.”
Chris sensed Mike was being genuine. He’d known it all along but needed someone to hate for a while until he’d grieved.
“I’m not blaming you, not anymore,” he sadly said, smiling weakly. “I’m just pissed off that you haven’t found them yet.”
Mike frowned.
He felt sick to his stomach after pouring cold water over the plan to get the crowd disliking Chris. He knew he couldn’t do it. Not now.
“This is what I’ll do…I’ll let you in on all leads regarding your mother’s case if you help me with the restless people out front?”
Chris smiled. He was glad to have let some of the sadness off his chest. He nodded as Mike nervously peered down the side of the house again.
“What’s got you spooked?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Mike replied, shuddering from the thought of talking about what was on his mind.
“Just tell me.”
Mike passed on the information given to him by Wayne when they were at the hospital but the words left Chris feeling puzzled and lost. He waited for Mike to laugh but he was close to crying instead.
“Mike, I’m confused…How can the dead get up and attack the living?”
“I have no idea.” Mike bowed his head before twisting his neck to crack the bone. “But it’s over now…Whatever it was it’s been put down again.”
“So, what do you need from me?”
“I need you to come up with a story to keep the townsfolk at bay. But don’t mention what I told you.” Mike studied Chris’ reaction, sensing he wasn’t up for the challenge. “You owe me, Chris…If you do this then I’ll forgive you for writing that shit about me in the paper.”
“Sure. Why not…But I also want in on further investigations into this case.” Chris stared at the garden and the hole in the fence. “Even though it sounds too weird to be true.”
“I told you, the case is over. The thing that took the lives of the Smythes’ has been put down.”
“Even so,” Chris replied, grinning. “It would still be cool to tag along with the great chief of police for a while.”
Mike sighed.
“Okay, but you need to say something quick to the feisty mob in the street.”
“I’m sure I can think of something to keep them happy.”
***
They returned from the house expecting to be swamped by people demanding answers, but everyone was silent. Even the other officers were quiet. Mike had a feeling he was being studied. He could sense it and it freaked him out. He stayed close to Chris, hoping he was about to keep his word, but some of the crowd drifted away to leave him surprised. He watched on as the people suddenly became more interested in the camera, doing poses and acting silly in their efforts to get on TV; close to laughing after the cameraman told them the equipment wasn’t switched on.
Mike nodded to Chris as the reporter approached the crowd, acting like he was about to faint after being given bad news. But Mike assumed it was part of his act to gain sy
mpathy from the people in the street. If it was, it was working, as the people suddenly gave Chris their full attention. Mike squirmed when Chris started to speak. He expected him to spill the beans on the truth, but his version of events sounded way off from what happened. Mike smiled as he listened to Chris explain a false truth about a domestic incident involving the residents of both houses; knowing he’d met his match when it came to talking believable bullshit.
He heard someone cry out – “Yeah! I knew Sid and Vincent never got on. It was only a matter of time before something happened.” – Before someone said – “But did you expect this?” – to leave the other person speechless.
“Get inside the car,” Mike ushered to the officers. “I just need to speak to the reporter before we leave.”
He waited for Chris to wrap up his speech before waving him over; happy to see the people dawdle off back to their homes.
“Do you think they believed you?” he asked as Chris neared.
“What do you think?... I had them eating out of the palm of my hand.”
Mike wasn’t sure if Chris was having a dig at the dead person rising chat they had but he didn’t want to bring it up again.
“I’m off back to the station,” he said, gripping the car door handle. “What are you up to?”
Chris grinned to creep him out. He had already planned his next journey but wasn’t going to let Mike in on it. Not yet anyway. If the chief was letting him off the leash to help search for answers then he would do it his way.
“I’ll just finish off here before heading back to edit the report.”
Everything seemed to be one giant jigsaw puzzle to Chris, but he was excited to try and put the pieces together.
EIGHTEEN
Chris arrived at the hospital to hear the bells from a nearby church ring six times; checking his watch and smiling as it showed 6.00 pm. He looked around as he sat inside his car, feeling nervous and excited as he placed on a wig. He looked into the rearview mirror and giggled at his attempt at a disguise before adjusting his fake nose and glasses; stepping out of the car in the hope of not being noticed once entering the building. He knew he was recognised by most people in the area and that made him more arrogant, but right now he needed not to be. Especially if he required some information.
He entered the main doors holding a large flower, smelling it to almost puke before checking to see if his phone was recording. It was. He placed it inside a pocket and calmly walked past reception, but a few nurses stared at him. They never spoke, but Chris did get a cheeky giggle and a smile as they passed. It pleased him because he knew his silly disguise had worked.
He walked down a corridor, acting like he didn’t know where he was going; almost bumping into Hazel to see her glare at him to make him feel uneasy. He stopped swiftly in his tracks, glancing into her eyes to stiffen like she’d turned him to stone. But she suddenly smiled.
“Can I help you?” she said, checking him up and down. “Are you lost?”
“I think so.” Chris relaxed and smiled back. “I’m looking for my uncle…I was told he was here.”
Hazel was close to laughing at the weird outfit Chris was wearing but thought better of it after thinking he may be part of a religious cult she’d never encountered before.
“Tell me his name and I’ll help you find him?”
“His name’s Vincent Smythe.”
Hazel frowned and scrunched her lips. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“My name’s John…I’m Vincent’s nephew.”
“I was told he never had any living family members?”
Chris gulped, thinking he had been caught out.
“We haven’t seen eye to eye for many years,” he rushed from his mouth, cringing from the thought of Hazel shouting out for a security guard. “So maybe he’d forgot I existed?...”
He raised the flower to grab her attention, hoping that the smell would hypnotise her into letting him go. But Hazel just watched him.
“…The police contacted me. Told me to come here…I’ve got Vincent a flower. It’s his favourite.”
Hazel leaned over to smell it but quickly held her nose; choking into her hand as Chris lowered the flower.
“That’s Vincent’s favourite?” she asked, choking again. “It smells like death.”
“It is strange you should say that…It’s called an Amorphophallus Titanium. Otherwise known as a Corpse Flower.”
“I’ve never seen one in the UK before.”
“That’s because I got it whilst travelling in Indonesia…Vincent used to order them when I was a child.”
Hazel had no idea if he was making it up but felt it her duty to tell him the truth. She reached out to hold Chris’ hand, passing on a sorrowful smile before pointing down the corridor.
“He died today…I’m so sorry…”
Chris quivered before shedding tears.
“…Didn’t anyone let you know?... His wife was also involved in the accident.”
“No…They never.” Chris sniffed into his jacket sleeve before saying, “Can I see them?”
“No,” Hazel sharply said, shocking him. “They’ve been taken to the morgue…You can give him his flower at the funeral.”
Chris guessed she was weighing him up, seeing if he would falter and admit to his lies, but, as he was about to respond, felt his false nose slowly peeling away.
“Sorry, but I need to use the restroom,” he swiftly said, hoping Hazel hadn’t noticed. “I had too much kebab earlier and I think it wants to come out and say hello.”
Before Hazel could work out the reason behind why Chris was behaving oddly he was off running towards the nearest toilet sign. She sighed as he pushed open the door before shaking her head in disbelief, not sure if she should wait for him or not.
Chris raced to a sink and laughed out loud, congratulating himself over a fine acting performance. He did doubt himself on whether he could cry on demand but was pleased with how easy it was. But he knew he was given a lucky escape. He put the flower down and restored his nose before checking his phone to make sure it hadn’t accidentally stopped recording; smiling to see it was still on as he got back into character.
He returned from the restroom to see Hazel was still in the same spot, but she shrieked at him when he neared. Chris panicked, thinking his nose was falling off; unaware that the glue he’d used to restore it was showing around his nose and cheeks.
Hazel backed away, feeling disgusted after assuming he’d been jerking off.
“You’ve got something on your face,” she awkwardly said, pointing. “I hope you’re fully relieved now.”
But Chris wasn’t catching on as he wiped the sticky solution away.
“Sorry about that,” he said, getting emotional again. “I’ve travelled a long way…Can I see them, please?”
Hazel shook her head again, desperately wanting to give him the same answer as before, but somehow Chris was convincing her he was legit.
“Okay, but only for a few minutes,” she snapped, feeling shocked for giving in. “They’re disfigured…So, if you haven’t got a strong stomach then don’t go there.”
Chris would swim through a pool full of horseshit to get a story so was up for this big time, but he needed to keep his emotions in check and stick with the heartbroken relative routine.
“I’ll be okay…Just lead the way.”
“As you wish,” Hazel replied, leading him to an elevator.
***
She watched him closely as she escorted him towards the room of death, waiting to see if he exploded from the realisation that his family members were dead, but Chris seemed to cope with it all. His actions worried Hazel, making her think she may be doing the wrong thing.
“You seem fine now,” she softly said as Chris took in his surroundings like he was an excited boy off to the beach. “You do know we’re off to the morgue to see your dead relatives, right?”
Chris stopped and stared at her before becoming the long lost nephew again; pic
king up where he’d left off.
“I know,” he replied, snivelling. “I was just trying to focus on something else.”
“Oh,” Hazel said, feeling embarrassed. “We’re nearly there now.”
They reached a set of double doors with the word – Morgue – written above before stopping to let a hospital worker walk through them.
“Stay here,” Hazel ordered, peering through a small window in one of the doors. “I need to make sure the bodies are ready before you can view them.”
“Sure…I’ll wait.”
Chris watched her open the doors before sitting in a nearby chair; looking around to see if anyone was watching as he checked his phone again.
“Come on,” he whispered, noticing the battery was low. “I need to get inside soon.”
He knew it was too risky stopping the recording and restarting it again once inside the room as someone could catch him out, so hoped he had enough time. He was pleased when the doors opened a few seconds later.
Hazel smiled at him as he left the seat to follow her, but his nose twitched from a smell similar to the flower he was carrying. He prepared himself for what was about to hit him hard in the face as Hazel led him through another door; entering a small room with dark closed curtains. Chris knew the bodies would be on show once they opened, but, as he stared at them, the fake emotions were replaced with real ones. He was sweating, wishing he wasn’t there now as Hazel reached out to grip a cord.
“Are you ready?” she asked, smiling sadly.
Chris nodded as his heart thumped loud against his chest; seeing the curtains open like the DEAD SEA to reveal two tables in the next room with sheets covering bodies. And standing between them was Ted (a member of the Pathology Department).
Hazel pressed a button on a wall-mounted Intercom device.
“Ted…Can you remove the sheets from the heads, please.”
Clifton Falls: A Zombie Story [Part 1] Page 13