by G G Garcia
He approached the window with his weapon drawn and slowly stuck his head out, careful of not being cut by any shards of glass from the top, bottom, and both sides.
His head was out for, what felt like to Demi, an eternity, and pulled it back through.
“All of us,” said Henry. “In the bathroom.”
“What are you talking about?” Maxwell spoke with genuine confusion.
“There’s about nine of them coming our way.”
“Fuck that!” Maxwell scoffed, then checked his magazine. “We can take them.”
“Maybe,” Henry agreed, “but if two gunshots can bring nine here, then how many more will show up after we’ve put down those nine. The bathroom is the only room in the house with a lock. We should be okay.”
“If you insist,” Maxwell groaned, giving in to Henry's order.
“I do.”
Maxwell looked at Demi and grinned. “I need a piss anyway.”
“Jesus Christ in Heaven,” Demi said, shaking her head at Maxwell’s comment. “I don’t need to know that.”
“Promise you won’t look?” Maxwell looked over to Demi and began to snicker.
“This is not the time,” Henry sighed. “Fucking move, now.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven.
The moaning and groaning had thankfully stopped coming from the bedroom where Mel and Lisa were, but Paul, Tony and Craig still sat uncomfortably. Just the thought of the two of them at it twisted Paul’s stomach.
Their beers had been drained and Craig offered to go down and get some more.
“Why don’t we just go downstairs to the lounge instead?” suggested Paul. “Instead of being up here, we may as well go to the bar.”
Tony and Craig agreed and the three males made their way downstairs to the lounge area of the pub. They noticed that the place was duskier than ever, now that the evening was drawing in.
“May as well have a couple now,” Craig suggested, “before it gets too dark.”
“We could stay down here, away from those two upstairs.” Paul went behind the bar as his friends sat down. “We could get a candle and make a night of it. Make the best of a bad situation.”
“Not too many, though, man,” said Tony. “What happens if we get attacked and we’re all shitfaced? We’d be as dead as a doo doo.”
Paul sat down and plonked the beers down on the round wooden table they were sitting at. “Ya’d be sober within seconds if they attacked.”
The three of them spent seven minutes supping on their beers and talking about an incident that happened in a nightclub, in Walsall. On that particular night, a big fight broke out between bouncers and some rowdy male customers, and the whole place had to be evacuated. Paul, Craig and Tony fled the scene and twenty-six people were arrested that night. It even made the national papers.
Their talk was silenced when they could hear feet making their way to the ground floor. They were all sure it was Mel, but stared over at the bar area and looked anyway.
Mel appeared from behind the bar and smiled at them. He helped himself to a bottle of diet coke and went over to join the three young men.
“Alright, gents?” He sat down and took two gulps of his coke.
“Sleep well?” Paul said with a smile.
“Not bad.” Mel smiled.
“We heard a lot of moaning,” Tony giggled. “Were you having a nightmare?”
Melvin Leslie sat back in his chair and gave off a big sigh. He knew that the boys had heard he and his wife, and could feel his face flushing. Maybe the pair of them weren’t as quiet as they thought they were.
“Okay,” he was about to confess and held his hands up. “Yes, we got a bit naughty. It was the only way to shut her up, plus—”
“You don’t have to explain, man,” Tony laughed. “It’s your wife.”
“It’s not as if I enjoyed it.”
“Okay, okay.” Paul held his hand up. “Enough, Mel.”
“I mean, it’s like banging a pregnant cow,” Mel moaned. “A few years ago I began to struggle to get hard. We had different ideas what the problem was. She hinted on me getting some viagra, whereas I hinted that she should get a treadmill.”
“And let’s just leave it there,” said Paul.
“Anyway,” Mel sighed. “Once I’ve...”
Melvin Leslie never managed to finish his sentence. A noise to the side that his ears picked up stopped him from continuing. He looked at his three male temporary housemates and could see by the expression on their faces that they had all heard the noise. Somebody was trying the main door. Somebody was trying to get in.
“Shall we go check it out?” Mel spoke, knowing that that was the last thing he wanted to do. “It might be a desperate survivor, wanting some kind of temporary sanctuary.”
“Or a fuckin’ lunatic,” Paul said, “like Luke Bentley.”
“So what then?” Mel looked at the three guys, urging them for a response.
The door was still being tried and Paul said, “Better go and open it before they kick the door in.”
Paul stood up and his pals did the same. He was the first to stand and the other three followed.
They reached the door in the dark lounge area, and both Paul and Mel went to the side of the door and peered out of the window like a couple of nosey neighbours.
“Well, man?” Tony queried either one of the peering males. “Stop fannying about. What can you see?”
“Holy shitballs. I can see two men,” Mel whispered.
“And to be honest,” Paul began. “I don’t like the look of either of them.”
“Me neither,” said Mel.
“So what do we do?” This time it was Craig’s turn to throw a question at the men.
The door was punched and then kicked, making Tony and Craig jump. Paul and Melvin removed themselves from the window.
Paul said, “We’re gonna have to let them in.”
“They’re coming in one way or another.” Mel took another quick look out and then went for the door and took out the keys from his pocket.
“What do you mean, mate?” Craig asked.
“One of them has just picked up a brick. Better get this door open before a window gets put through.”
They all looked at one another and gave off a nod. Mel unlocked the door and opened it. He produced a wide smile and looked at the two menacing men. Both were bald, around six feet in height, and looked to be bodybuilders. Both men were dressed in trousers, a white shirt that was now loosened, black polished shoes, and a black jacket to go over the white shirt.
“Hello, gentlemen.” Mel gulped, and had Craig, Paul and Tony standing behind him.
The two strangers glared at Mel and the boys and then looked at one another.
“Can we help you, gentlemen?” Mel asked, and quickly cleared his throat once he produced the sentence. There was fear in his voice and everybody heard it.
“Alright, lads.” The one on the left appeared to have a Scottish accent, Glaswegian, and added, “Ye ‘ave room fae two more?”
“Erm ... not really.” Melvin stood awkwardly and felt intimidated by their presence.
“How many inside?” the one on the right spoke up. He was the one holding the brick and he sounded like a local, from Cannock.
Mel panicked and was put on the spot. “There’re four of us,” he said. He told a white lie and had no idea why he did so.
“Four?” the local man laughed and dropped the brick on the floor. “And there’s no room for two more, in a pub like this?”
“Well...”
“Fuck this,” the Scottish man huffed. “We’re fuckin’ comin’ in anyway, whether ye cunts like it or no’. I’m gaggin’ fae a fuckin’ beer.”
“Alrighty shitey,” Mel took a step back. “Calm down.”
The two men stormed through the door, forcing Mel and the three young guys to move aside, and Melvin Leslie closed the door once the two huge men were inside.
Mel, Paul, Craig and Tony looked petrified. If th
ey asked the two men to leave, then what? They’d get beaten and thrown out? Or worse?
They looked over and saw the two massive men helping themselves from behind the bar. All felt helpless and knew that confronting the two rude men was a pointless task that would lead to violence.
This wasn’t in the script.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“This is just a precaution,” said Henry. “They might not even come in.”
The bathroom was locked, and Demi, Maxwell and Henry sat on the floor, waiting for the danger to pass. The sound of falling glass from the bedroom could be heard and excited footsteps began to run through the rooms of the place. Henry and Maxwell made sure that there was a round in the chamber of their handguns, and Demi sat with her hands over her mouth, as if she didn’t trust herself not to scream.
Her theory was tested quickly.
Feet continued to run through their place, some items being knocked over, and a bang at the bathroom door made both men jump and Demi shriek into her hands.
Two more bangs occurred, whilst many feet ran through the flat, scavenging for something to devour. All three remained sitting, nervous hearts crashing against their chests.
The sounds from inside the apartment were beginning to diminish and all three guessed correctly that some had left. Demi shuffled over and placed her ear against the door. It only sounded like there were four to six left inside. It was just a small matter of waiting until they were gone. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and began to mumble a prayer under her breath. Once she had finished the prayer, she opened her eyes and her eyes thinned in confusion. There was no more sound coming from inside the flat. She turned to Henry and smiled.
Noticing her confident look, he whispered, “We don’t know if they’re all gone.”
“I can’t hear a thing,” she said.
“Stay here for a few minutes, Demsy. Just in case.”
“If you say so.”
Maxwell nodded in agreement and spoke up, “Wait another five minutes and me and Henry will search the flat.”
“We’ll need to board that bedroom window up,” Henry groaned.
“What with?” Maxwell chuckled falsely. “Even if we did have a hammer and an endless supply of wood and nails, we’d still be mad to make that kind of racket to board up a window.”
“So, what do you suggest, eh?”
“We’ll just have to make the bedroom out of bounds. And keep the door closed.” Maxwell sighed and got to his feet. “Right. Enough of this waiting bollocks. I’m going to go out and check now. You coming?”
Henry nodded, and Demi never protested.
Henry turned to Demi and said, “Once we leave, keep this door locked.”
She said, “Don’t worry, I will.”
Maxwell was acting the tough man, but Demi could see that his hands were shaking. Regardless of whether he was nervous or not, it was still a brave thing what he was doing, what they were both doing.
Henry placed his hand on Demi’s shoulder and said, “We won’t be a minute.”
“Look,” Demi began. “I’d go myself if I had a gun as well.”
“I know, Demsy,” sighed Henry. “I’m not treating you like a little girlie, just looking out for you. Especially that you’re unarmed.”
Henry and Maxwell looked at each other and both gave off a quick nod. Maxwell unbolted the bathroom door and opened it by a couple of inches, just enough so they could peer out.
The living room looked clear at least, and this breathed confidence into the tetchy man and opened the door wide enough so he could put his head through. A table had been knocked over and a couple of framed pictures were lying on the floor, but apart from that the place seemed in a decent condition, considering what had just happened. And at least the living room window had been untouched. It seemed that the uninvited guests had left the same way they had arrived.
“Okay?” Henry asked from behind.
“Seems clear,” said Maxwell. “Didn’t really make much of a mess either.”
Maxwell stepped out and Henry quickly followed. Both men held their guns in both hands and were as nervous as hell. Henry looked behind him and could see that the kitchen was clear and the main door had been untouched.
They had the bedrooms to check and that was it. The two men approached the first bedroom door, Henry’s room. Henry grabbed the handle and pushed it wide open. Empty. They went to Maxwell’s room and did the same routine. This was also empty.
They approached the spare room, where the infected had burst through, and took a look in the room that already had its door wide open. The window was almost without any glass, but the room itself was free of any danger.
“I’m gonna take a quick check outside and then we’ll keep this room closed,” said Maxwell. “We could at least put the cupboard against the window.”
Henry nodded. “Tremendous idea.”
Maxwell approached the window with caution and peered out. The body outside was going to have to be taken care of, eventually, but it wasn’t high on his list at the moment. He looked the other way.
The street seemed clear.
“Everything okay?” Henry asked.
Maxwell turned around, with his back to the window. “So far.”
“Nothing out there, eh?”
“It’s dead.” Maxwell shook his head, and then pointed over to the cupboard. “Fancy giving me a hand with that?”
A pair of hands grabbed Maxwell around the throat and he dropped the gun in fright. The male infected individual tried to climb into the house, still holding onto Maxwell, and the drug dealer screamed out, thinking he was going to be bitten for sure. Maxwell moved and wriggled like a man on fire, but the IO wouldn’t let go.
“Shoot it!” Maxwell screamed at Henry. “Shoot!”
“I can’t get a clear shot!”
“Just do it!”
Henry already had the gun aimed, but he was fearful of shooting his friend instead. Demi stormed into the room, making Henry jump, and gasped when she could see what was going on.
She knew something was happening when she was in the living room, but didn’t realise it was this bad.
She stood next to Henry as Maxwell struggled to free himself, and she placed her hand on his gun and lowered it. Maxwell and his aggressor had now fallen to the floor and were rolling around. Maxwell couldn’t believe the strength of the infected being and repeatedly punched it in the face, but it wouldn't let go of him.
Demi then casually walked over to the two wrestling individuals and pulled out a knife from her pocket. Maxwell was struggling with the male IO and both men rolled again with the infected person now on top of Maxwell. Demi went behind the aggressor, pulled his hair back with her left hand, making him snarl, and stuck the knife into the back of his neck with her right. The contaminated being was still sitting up, on top of Maxwell, but then fell to the side once Demi let go of his hair.
A panting and relieved Maxwell remained on the floor, trying to catch his breath. He slowly sat up and looked at the body of the man she had knifed. He placed the palms of his hands on the floor and leant back.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“Am I okay?” He smiled at Demi and said, “You two took your fucking time, didn’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mel, Paul and Craig had sat down at one of the tables and waited nervously for the two large men to join them. They sauntered over, beer in hand, and sat opposite Mel and the boys. Both men were like twins, obviously bodybuilders, bald, and similar in height. The only difference was that the Scottish man had a scar running from just under his right eye socket and down to the corner of his mouth.
The local man was the first to open his mouth, and said, “Right, lads, now that we’re all sitting down, we’re gonna have a civilised chat.”
“That’s fine with us,” said Mel.
The man from Cannock continued, “First, we’ll tell you our story, then you tell me yours. And after that I’
ll tell you what’s gonna happen from hereon in.”
Mel and the boys took a nervous look at one another after the man’s last sentence, and feared that their days in the pub could be numbered. Either that, or they were going to stay, but were going to have two extra people staying, whether they liked it or not.
The man with the local accent placed his hand on his chest and said, “I’m Mitch.” He then pointed to his companion. “And this is Mad Rab. Originally from Glasgow.”
“Mer-mer-mer … Mad Rab?” Mel stammered, and then cleared his throat. “What...?”
“The first name explains itself,” the local man laughed. “And he’s called Rab because his name is Robert. In Glasgow, if your name is Robert you usually get called Rab. If you’re a Thomas, then you’re usually called Tam. Shuggy if your name’s Hugh, and so on.”
“Okay.” Mel nodded, and gulped hard when he could feel and now see the stare coming from the guy that was called Mad Rab.
“We’re bouncers,” Mitch began. “Hence the attire we are both wearing, and the reason we’re here was because we were working in Stafford, at a nightclub, and then all hell broke loose.”
“What do you mean all hell broke loose?” Paul asked. “Did infected people show up at your club?”
“Aye,” it was Rab’s turn to speak up. “About twenty o’ the cunts turned up. They attacked me and my colleagues on the door, wee arseholes. Had tae shut the club’s doors.”
“It was a fuckin’ nightmare,” the local man spoke up, shaking his head. “Wasn’t it, Rab?”
“Aye.” Rab nodded. “People fae inside the club demanded to be let oot, around four am, so we had to open the doors.”
“Why didn’t you stay in Stafford?” asked Mel. “Why come here?”
“You’re joking, right?” Mitch laughed and took a swig of his beer. “We barely got out of Stafford alive, eh, Rab?”
“Aye, aye, aye.” Rab took a long sniff and turned to the side to spit on the carpet, turning the stomachs of Mel, Paul, Tony and Craig. “I think we had tae kill seven or eight o’ the cunts just tae ge’ oot o’ the fuckin’ toon.”