Hell

by G G Garcia

  “The living room looked clear through the windows,” Tony whispered to Paul. “Straight upstairs.”

  “Ya want me to take the lead?” Paul asked with a hush.

  “Why?” Tony was unsure why Paul made this suggestion, and seemed annoyed by it. “I know you think I’m a coward, man, but this is my place.”

  “It’s not that,” Paul said. “If they’ve turned, ya might hesitate puttin’ them down.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel better, man?”

  “Just preparin’ ya for the worst case scenario.”

  No words were spoken as the men crept up the stairs, with Tony leading the way, and both stopped moving once they’d reached the top and on the landing.

  They could see that all four doors, three bedrooms and one bathroom, was open. Paul was certain that the house was empty and remained where he was, whilst Tony checked the rooms.

  A petrified Tony returned to the landing and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I don’t get it,” said Tony. “I can understand why your parents left, ‘cause the house was all smashed up.”

  “Maybe they had a better, a safer, offer.”

  “Maybe.” Tony nodded. “Probably went to Trish’s place at Upper Longdon. That place is like a fortress.”

  “There ya go.”

  “Trouble is,” Tony said with a sigh. “They probably think I’m dead. This thing never happened until Saturday night/Sunday morning, and I didn’t return home.”

  “Wit about stayin’ here? Even just for a night?” Paul questioned.

  Tony shook his head. “No way. There’s nothing to eat, and I just don’t feel safe, man. Let’s go back to the pub and stop fannying about.”

  Paul never responded and watched as Tony huffed and went down the stairs.

  “Where’re ya going?” Paul called after him.

  “Gonna wait in the pickup. This was a waste of time.” Tony was halfway down the stairs when he struck the side of the wall in frustration with the tyre iron. “You coming?”

  “I need a pee. I’ll be a minute.”

  “Alright, but I don’t think that flusher is working.”

  “The vehicle’s open,” Paul called down as Tony exited through the door, into the living room.

  Paul Newbold entered the bathroom area and drained his bladder. He threw his head back and released a long moan. It was just what his body needed. He looked down as he was finishing off and could see his urine was a dark yellow colour. He needed more water in his system.

  Forgetting what Tony had said to him, he zipped himself up and went to flush the toilet. It didn’t work, and the young man smiled and shook his head at his forgetfulness. He closed the toilet lid and tried the taps on the sink. No water came out, and he also noticed specks of blood in the sink and more in the bath to his left.

  He left the bathroom, back onto the landing, and Paul’s nose started to twitch as he could smell something strange, something unpleasant. He looked up, nose still twitching, and could see a hatch for the Willetts’ attic. It was a brilliant white coloured hatch and had a small hook. He could see a metal pole at the end of the landing, in the corner, and was certain it was used to open the attic. Once it was opened, a metal set of stepladders slowly lowered.

  Once the ladders touched the landing’s carpet, Paul took out his knife and proceeded to slowly climb the ladders.

  Six minutes later, Paul Newbold had exited the attic, made sure it was shut, and then walked downstairs with tired and depressed legs.

  He left the house, making sure the door was shut behind him, and went down the few concrete steps and could see Tony waiting for him in the car.

  Paul composed himself, took in a deep breath, and then opened the driver’s door and sat in the seat.

  Paul could feel Tony looking at him, but tried to ignore it and started the pickup.

  “You okay?” asked Tony. “You took ages.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re acting funny.”

  Paul looked at his friend and smiled thinly. “Never better.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Craig’s place?” Paul ignored Tony’s query, and fired one of his own at his passenger. “Shall we see if he’s turned up there safely?”

  Tony hunched his shoulders. The last thing he wanted to do was go to Craig’s place. Especially if his mum was there. “I think we should go back to the pub. It has the facilities and food and drink. We should never have left.”

  “I know, but we needed to know.” Paul looked to the side, staring at Tony’s house.

  “Let’s just go, man.”

  “Craig’s place is on the way out of town anyway. We’ll give it a quick check, and then go.”

  Tony never responded, and gazed out of the passenger window as Paul pulled away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The screams of Demi’s parents haunted her dreams, and it wasn’t long before Demi Mason had woken up with tears in her eyes. But it wasn’t the nightmare that had brought her out of her sleep, it was the gentle knocking coming from behind the door.

  “What?” she groaned.

  The door slowly opened and Henry popped his head in. He could see she was fully dressed and now awake.

  “Just wondering if everything’s okay,” he said.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” she huffed, and then sat up and leaned her back against the headrest.

  “It’s just that you were moaning in your sleep.”

  “Oh.”

  Henry risked walking in and sat at the edge of the bed.

  Henry began, “Look, I know it’s none of my business…”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “I haven’t done it for ages.”

  “I noticed last night your thighs are in a bit of a mess, though.”

  “They’re scars.” Demi hunched her shoulders. “They’ll never heal … not properly.”

  He could see she was crestfallen and asked her what was wrong.

  Demi looked at him as if he had just asked her the most ridiculous question ever. She probably had a point. Her parents were dead, her life had changed forever, she was staying at a place that wasn’t hers, and she, along with most people in the West Midlands, were experiencing an apocalyptic situation. The power had gone, people were scared and staying indoors, and the ones that roamed outdoors were infected with an unexpected and unexplained virus.

  She never gave him an answer. Her look was enough for him to apologise about his silly query.

  “You thinking about your parents, eh?” he asked her.

  “No, I wasn’t,” she lied. “But thanks for bringing that up. I know you never cared about yours.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, Demsy.”

  As soon as Henry said those words, she felt terrible for being such a bitch. She wiped her eyes and looked at the twenty-nine-year-old Henry Brown. He was thin, probably too thin, but God he was attractive.

  She had always been attracted to him, despite his bad habit of scratching the inside of his nose with his thumbnail. He wasn’t the type of man that she could bring home, especially with his occupation, but that was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him. They were both free spirits and he was a bad boy, which made him a lot more exciting than the chartered accountant she had dated a few months ago.

  “Is there anything I can do for you, or get you?”

  “Actually, yes there is.” Demi bit her bottom lip nervously, aware that her favour was selfish. Henry had already been out there and risked his neck twice for supplies, and she was going to ask him to do it once more.

  “What is it, eh?” he asked.

  “My parents are dead,” she said.

  “I know. You told me.”

  “I can’t leave them there.”

  Henry sighed and dropped his head. She didn’t have to say any more. He knew what she wanted.

  “You want them buried?” Henry sighed.

  Demi nodded.

  “Tremendous.” He stared at the f
loor and thought for a few seconds, and then his eyes looked up and met Demi’s. “Okay. I’ll go, but there’s no way Maxwell will go out there and risk his neck for that.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  “I can’t be hiding in here. This may go on for a long time. I need to start killing these things. I can’t be hiding behind you for the foreseeable future.”

  “I don’t mind,” Henry laughed.

  “Yeah, but what happens if you died?”

  The room fell silent. Demi had a point. Despite the fact that Henry could handle himself, even without his Glock 17, there was no guarantee that he was going to live through this. There was no certainty that anyone was going to live through this nightmare.

  Henry cleared his throat and asked Demi when she wanted to go.

  “I’d like to go now,” she said. “If it’s safe enough.”

  “If it’s not, we come straight back and try another time.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay.” Henry sighed and stood up, getting off the bed. “I’ll let Maxwell know what we’re going to do. He can look after the place while we’re away.”

  “Thanks,” Demi said with a lump in her throat.

  “He won’t be happy about this.” Henry reached for the door and turned to Demi, who was now getting off the bed and putting her shoes back on. “He’ll see this as an unnecessary danger for me.”

  “It’s up to you.”

  “I know.” Henry smiled. “Get a drink. We leave in five minutes.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The red pickup had reached the Western Springs Road, and it was a small matter of turning right into the Springfields Estate and reaching Aneurin Bevan Place, where Craig and his parents stayed.

  Like most of their journey through the day, it had been uneventful and this made Paul nervous. Where were the IOs? Were there only a handful of them to begin with? After all, this mysterious radiation occurred during the night/early morning. Most people were in their beds when this happened, apart from pub goers and people who were going to or had just finished work.

  The vehicle turned into Craig’s street and Tony and Paul could see four guys at the side of the road. They were all carrying bats, and had a car parked across the road so that it was impossible for Paul to get any closer.

  Neither Paul or Tony said anything as he slowed the vehicle down, eventually bringing it to a stop. Paul recognised one of the guys. He was in the same year at school as Paul. His name was Ziggy. He was small in stature, but a fierce man, and always donned a crewcut.

  Paul wound the window down and it was Ziggy that approached the vehicle.

  “Alright, Zig?” came Paul’s welcome. “Wit’s happenin’?”

  “We’re tryin’ to protect the street from those manky bastards,” he snapped.

  Paul knew that the term ‘manky bastards’ was in reference to the infected. Paul thought the phrase was unkind, after all, the IOs were victims to a certain degree, but needed to be put down to protect the uninfected.

  “Can we get by?” said Paul. “I need to see if my pal’s safe. He was with us, but he fled yesterday.”

  “What’s the number?”

  “Thirty-four.”

  “That’s Craig Shepherd,” said Ziggy. “I didn't see him arrive here.”

  “Can I check anyway?”

  Ziggy nodded and told Paul and Tony to walk to the house.

  They did as they were told, and both Paul and Tony exited the vehicle, Paul taking the keys with him, and made the short walk to Craig’s house.

  He knocked the door to 34 Aneurin Bevan Place and didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

  The blue back door opened and Paul smiled once he saw a familiar face. It was Craig’s mum. She was a woman in her late forties, curvy, but still pretty in the face. She placed her hand over her mouth once her eyes clocked Paul and Tony and broke down.

  “I don’t believe it!” she cried. She looked over Paul and Tony’s shoulder, and this made Paul think that she thought that maybe Craig could have been with them. He obviously wasn’t, and he could see the disappointment on her face as the two young men stepped inside. She pointed at a camping stove, sitting on the kitchen side table, and asked Paul and Tony if they wanted a drink. Both opted for coffee.

  Tony and Craig’s mum looked at one another, smiled, and both felt an awkwardness. All three sat down eventually and Paul was the first to speak.

  “So...” he began, but couldn’t find any words. “Where’s Jim?”

  “He’s upstairs, having a nap.”

  “Hard to believe what’s happening.”

  “I know.” She nodded and added, “It’s going to take a while before it sinks in, but thanks to Ziggy and those other guys outside, we’ve been safe in this street.”

  There was a silence in the room and Paul and Tony knew that another topic of conversation was going to pop up, and Craig’s mum finally queried the guys on it. She had never blurted it out when she first clocked them. She had been patient.

  “Where’s Craig?” she asked. “Where’s my son? He went out with you on Saturday night.”

  Paul and Tony took a quick gape at one another and this made Craig’s mum burst into tears.

  “It’s okay,” Tony jumped in. “He’s not dead.”

  “He’s not?” She began to wipe her eyes and composed herself.

  “Well...” Paul flashed Tony a hard look. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “What happened?” she cried. “Where is he?”

  Paul sighed and decided to give Craig’s mum the story of what happened. She listened patiently and never interrupted once.

  Paul told her about leaving the club at around 3am and going to a party that turned out to be nothing but a drugs den, and how they decided to go home and took two girls from Brereton back. Then they were attacked, not knowing that this wasn’t an isolated incident. Paul continued further, without once pausing and slurping his coffee, and told his friend’s mum that they stayed at a pub and Craig had took it on himself that he wanted to go back to his parents.

  He informed her that Craig had taken his car, without his permission, and Paul told his mum that they reckoned he was out there, somewhere, on foot, because they saw Paul’s abandoned car with the keys absent. Where he was, they didn’t know, but Paul was convinced, and had convinced Craig’s mum, that he was still alive. They just didn’t know where he was, but he and Tony were going back to the pub.

  The room became as quiet as a library once Paul was finished, and the woman of the house sat up straight, took in a deep breath, and looked like she was trying to process all the information that had been given to her.

  “Can you do me a favour?” she asked Paul.

  “Wit is it?”

  “If you do see Craig in Wolseley, if he turns up, tell him that you came here and found the house empty.”

  Paul’s eyes narrowed with confusion and said, “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want him, or any of you guys risking coming back here. When you get back to the pub, bloody stay there. And stay away from populated areas, and that includes places like Little and Great Haywood, Colwich, Abbots Bromley and Colton. You should have never come in the first place. It’s too dangerous.”

  *

  Five minutes had passed and Paul and Tony said their farewells. They left the house, walking by Ziggy and his three guys, and got in the car.

  Paul fired the engine and they both left the street in silence.

  They went by the roundabout and went by a pub/restaurant.

  Tony gazed at the establishment, a place he had been to for a carvery on many a Sunday afternoons, and could see people inside.

  “There’s people inside, man,” Tony blurted out.

  Paul nodded without taking a look. “Probably been in there since Saturday.”

  “We could—”

  “They wouldn’t let us in,” interrupted Paul, knowing what Tony was about
to suggest. “Why would ya let in two strangers, two extra mouths to feed? We’re going back to Wolseley. If the road is just as quiet as it was on the way here, we should be okay.”

  “And how long do we stay there?”

  “When this thing is finished.”

  “Even when it is finished, how would we know? There’s no power, no information anymore.”

  Paul never answered and put his foot down, as they were a hundred yards from exiting Rugeley.

  “I swear I’m destined to be with that Melvin and Lisa,” Paul sighed, and then released a chuckle.

  Confused by his behaviour, Tony asked his friend, “What are you on about, man?”

  “This is the second time I’ve left them, and now the second time I’m going back to them.” Paul took a quick gape at Tony and could see him staring out of his window. “Alright?”

  Tony nodded unconvincingly.

  “That wasn’t too awkward back there, at Craig’s house, was it?”

  Tony shook his head. “More things to worry about now.”

  “Despite wit is going on, I could still sense the awkwardness.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. Forget it.”

  “It doesn't matter?” Paul laughed. “For three months, starting last April, ya started to sleep with Craig’s mum. If he found out—”

  “Well, he won’t, will he? As far as Craig’s concerned, I’m still a sad virgin.” Tony rubbed his face and Paul could clearly see he was annoyed. “Just … don’t mention it again.”

  Paul nodded. “Okay.”

  Tony leaned forwards and gazed out of the windscreen. His eyes widened and took an intake of breath, as if he was about to say something. Before he had chance to open his mouth, Paul said, “I see it.”

  As the pickup progressed, the two men could see a policeman at the side of the road, fifty yards up. He was dressed in the traditional uniform, but also wearing a thin fluorescent jacket that some cops wore on a night time.

  “One of them?” Tony said.

  Paul bit his bottom lip, refraining from saying, ‘How the fuck should I know? I can’t see his eyes from here?’ Instead, he hunched his shoulders and sighed, “No idea.”