Hell

by G G Garcia

  He pulled the vehicle away, and as soon as the car straightened up they could both see a figure walking along the road. He had his back to them and the man had a shaved head, wearing combats, and had a rucksack on his back. As they got near, they could also see that he was carrying a machete in his hand.

  “Shall we stop for him?” Henry asked Demi.

  “Absolutely not,” Demi snapped. “Jesus Christ in Heaven that’s Luke Bentley. We saw him a couple of days ago, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  The vehicle moved out a few yards as it approached the man and the individual never flinched, never turned around, and never even tried to flag down the vehicle. They passed Luke Bentley and there was no reaction from the man.

  “Where’s he going?” muttered Henry.

  Demi couldn't give him an answer.

  They sat in silence as Henry tried the radio. Every station seemed scrambled, as it had been the day before. He was certain they were going to be anyway, but thought that it wouldn’t do any harm to try.

  The vehicle followed the road round a right bend and once the road straightened up, Henry sighed. “Now what?”

  Demi looked ahead and could see a man lying on the pavement. He was clutching his leg and was desperately trying to move. They slowed down and stopped to the side of the injured man and both could see he was exhausted, yet still trying to move. His leg was bleeding and Henry decided to turn the engine off and have a chat with the man, considering that he wasn’t a danger.

  Not taking any chances, Henry stepped outside and pulled out his handgun. He didn’t motion to Demi to stay in the vehicle, but she did anyway, and looked on with her hands shaking. If anything happened to Henry, she didn’t know what she would do.

  Henry was a couple of yards from the bleeding man when he stopped. The man looked up. His face was pale and he had no energy left. He looked like he was dying.

  “Just checking on how you’re doing, pal.” Henry didn’t know what else to say to the injured fellow. He felt for him and wondered what he was doing in the middle of the countryside, away from his family.

  “I’m Henry,” Henry said.

  “And I’m Rab. So fuckin’ what? Are ye gonnae help me or no’?”

  Henry looked at the man from his bloody legs up to his head and asked, “You need help.”

  “Aye, course I dae. I’m fuckin’ dyin, man,” the man spoke with a thick Glaswegian accent. “So ... I’m not daein’ so great, no wit I mean?”

  “How did you injure yourself?” Henry asked the man.

  The injured male released an impatient groan and stopped crawling along the ground. He was exhausted.

  “I tried to seek sanctuary, but the people turned on me and attacked me.”

  Confused by his comment, Henry said, “You don’t get attacked for no reason.”

  “Fuck you,” the man snapped. “If I could fuckin’ stand I’d break ye fucking neck, ye cunt!”

  “No need to be like that.”

  “No need to be like that?” Rab said. “I’m fuckin’ dyin’ ‘ere.”

  The injured man then clocked the gun that Henry was holding and nodded at the weapon. “See that there,” the man spoke with a grunt. “Why don’t ye put that to some good use and put me out of ma misery.”

  “Can’t do that.” Henry shook his head.

  “And why the fuck no’?” The Glaswegian snarled and spat at Henry, but missed his foot by inches.

  “Because I don’t like you.” Henry smiled at the man and decided to walk away, ignoring the insults from the angry Scotsman.

  Henry returned to the car and Demi asked him straightaway, “What’s going on? Are you not helping him?”

  “Helping him?” Henry laughed. “I’m not a doctor, Demi.”

  “He looks terrible.”

  “He’s close to death. He’s lost a lot of blood. He asked me to put him out of his misery, but it’s not happening.”

  “And why not?” Demi asked, and was confused by Henry’s remark.

  “Because he’s a bad ‘un. I think he deserves what’s coming to him.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.”

  Henry fired the engine and pulled the vehicle away. Demi asked no more questions, and turned as the vehicle moved. She watched as the man on the ground slowly began to get smaller, and felt terrible that neither one of them was doing anything to help the poor man. The car took a bend and Rab had disappeared altogether. She faced the front and then took a quick gape at Henry to her left side.

  Two more miles and they’d be back at the pub.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Paul was awake and went straight into the kitchen for a mouthful of water. He looked in the defunct fridge and could see bottles of water and sodas sitting there, but the stock was dwindling as the days were passing. He knew there were more supplies at the bar, and in the two cellars, but he didn’t want to wait until they were down to their last bottle before doing anything. They needed to think about the future, especially as far as water was concerned.

  Paul knew how to filter water, and with the river next to them the location was perfect. However, he didn’t want to go down that road if there was water, proper drinking water, available elsewhere. If he wanted to make that possible, he would need a set of wheels. Tony and Paul had to abandon the vehicle they took from the Little Haywood garage the day before, on their way back from Rugeley, but he had his car keys back and his Corsa was sitting a mile up the road, abandoned.

  It was a daring thing to do, but if he could get to his car, go out on a run and bring something back to hydrate folk, it’d be worth it.

  “Fuck it.”

  Paul went into the living room, still dressed in blue jeans and a red and white chequered shirt.

  “Look what the dog dragged in,” Tony spoke up.

  They were all in the living room, and Paul ignored his friend’s incorrect comment and looked in Mel’s way.

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Paul.

  They all looked at one another and Mel was the first to speak. “We’re listening.”

  “We need to think about the long term,” Paul began, standing in the living room whilst his small seated audience listened without interrupting. “We seem to be okay for food for now, but the liquids are goin’ down quite a bit. We’re situated by a river and I think I know how to filter water—”

  “Jesus, things aren’t that bad yet,” Craig interrupted. “It’s only the third day.”

  “No point waitin’ for the water to run out and then do somethin’ about it.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Mel asked.

  “Well...” Paul looked at the faces of Craig, Tony, Mel and an unusually quiet Lisa Leslie. He knew they weren’t going to like the idea.

  “We’re waiting, soppy bollocks,” Lisa spoke up, breaking her silence. “Hurry the fuck up.”

  “Okay,” Paul sighed. “There must be places to go to get supplies. I was thinkin’ about the Costco place in Hixon.”

  “The wholesalers?” Mel queried.

  Paul nodded.

  “That’s two miles from here,” Mel said. “And we don’t have any wheels.”

  “I do.” Paul put his hand in his front pocket, pulled out his keys and shook them.

  “But your car’s a mile away from here.”

  Paul nodded and the penny had dropped with all of them, slowly, one by one.

  “That’s nuts.” Tony shook his head.

  “No fucking way,” Craig piped up. “You can’t walk to your car, mate. It’s too dangerous.”

  Lisa laughed and shook her head at Paul, but Mel was the only one not being negative about Paul’s idea.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Mel said, followed by a single nod. “Especially if it works.”

  “Well, you’re a fucking idiot,” Lisa snapped.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Mel, ignoring his wife. “Could do with some fresh air and get away from her for a couple of hours
.”

  “Charming,” Lisa huffed.

  “We don't need more than two people,” Paul said.

  “When are we going?” Mel asked Paul. “Now?”

  Paul hunched his shoulders. “Might as well.”

  Paul left the living room to go into the kitchen and Tony followed him in.

  “Mate,” Tony began. “We could stay in here for a week, fanny about easily, and be fine, as far as drink is concerned.”

  “We can’t live on beer and wine,” Paul began to laugh.

  “I don’t just mean that. There’s still bottles of water, tonic water, sodas in the two cellars.”

  “So we just sit on our arses and hope this thing is solved by the end of the week. Is that ya plan?”

  “What you’re doing is a bit risky.”

  “I understand ya concern, Tony.”

  “But?” Tony groaned.

  “But we could be in here for the long haul, and if there’s stuff out there to get, then why not take it now, before someone else does?”

  “I don’t know.” Tony shook his head.

  “I’m not waitin’ until we’re down to our last packet of crisps and bottle of coke before we go out there.”

  “You said that you could filter water.”

  “Sure I can, but have ya ever tasted filtered water from a pond or a river, even when it’s been boiled?”

  Tony shook his head.

  “Neither have I, but I could imagine it tastes like piss.”

  “There’s no talking you out of this?”

  Paul shook his head. “I’m doin’ it. It’ll be worth it in the long run. Ya will see.”

  “Well, good luck.” Tony held out his hand and Paul smiled.

  Paul put his arms out and the two men had a quick embrace. Once they broke away, Paul called out to Mel and told him he’d grab a couple of knives for the pair of them from the kitchen drawer.

  They were leaving in two minutes.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The Audi was now a mile away from Wolseley, not far from the pub, and Demi was beginning to get excited of the thought of returning to the place. She knew she would get criticism for the way she left but, like Tony and Paul, she had returned to the area where she lived, but found out that it was safer elsewhere.

  “Bollocks!” Henry cussed.

  Demi never asked him what the problem was, she could see for herself. A gang of IOs in the distance, nineteen in all, were strolling along the main road, in the middle of it, and all had their backs to them.

  “They haven’t heard the engine yet,” said Demi, noticing not one had turned around yet.

  Henry could see an opened gate to a field and turned right and drove through the gap.

  “Jesus, what are you doing?” Demi cried.

  Henry never responded and put his foot down as the vehicle went over the bumpy field, the long grass reaching the height of the bonnet.

  “We might get stuck,” Demi continued to rant. “It was raining on the early Sunday morning. It’ll be muddy.”

  Henry continued to drive in silence and they could see a dirt road up ahead. That’s where he was heading. Demi looked behind her and could see that some of the supplies that were rammed in the back had fallen over due to Henry’s erratic driving. The car turned and hit the lane, and the crazy driving had ceased and there was calmness now.

  “We’ll turn left at the end of the lane,” Henry spoke at last, “and then it should be a two minute drive to the pub.”

  “There’s a house up ahead,” said Demi.

  “Tremendous. I see it.”

  Henry slowed the vehicle down and dropped it into first gear, now crawling along the dirt road.

  “Shit!” Demi gasped.

  Both of them could see a man at the end of the dirt road, waving his arms. The end of the road led to the main Wolseley Road that ran across, and the house was situated to the left of the dirt road.

  They both assumed the man was the owner of the house and could see he was okay. He was normal. He wasn’t infected.

  “He doesn’t look like a Sav,” Henry remarked, and began to bring the Audi to a stop.

  As soon as the car came to a stop, the man approached the driver’s side with no hesitation. Henry put the window down and waited for what the man had to say.

  “Thank God,” the man cried, and then looked in the back of the vehicle and widened his eyes. He wasn’t expecting to see the vehicle stocked up with food and drink.

  “Can we help you, friend?” Henry asked, running his fingers over his stubbly face.

  “I need a doctor,” he said. He then rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “I mean ... my wife and I need a doctor. It’s for my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?” Demi leaned over and gaped at the man. He was average in height, a bit paunchy, but still handsome. “What’s wrong with your daughter? And why do you need us?”

  “I need a car,” the man said. “I was banned from driving six months ago, so I don’t have a car, and my wife doesn’t drive. Typical, isn’t it?”

  “Where do you intend to go?” Henry asked the man. “If your house isn’t safe anymore, we’re going to a—”

  “A hospital.”

  “Hospitals are no longer running.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” the man said with an impatient snarl.

  “Look, buddy,” Henry sighed. “The hospitals are fucked.”

  “Just ... please come inside. I’ll show you myself why I need help.”

  Demi and Henry had a quick look at one another. They looked unsure and the man could see this, so he tried to put their minds at ease.

  He said, “Come in. I’ll make you a drink. Maybe if you see her you’ll change your mind.”

  “We’re not leaving this vehicle. You understand, eh?” said Henry.

  “I won’t start anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that at all.” Henry pulled up his T-shirt, revealing the Glock, making the man gulp and take a step backwards.

  “We can go inside for a minute,” Demi said to Henry.

  Henry shook his head and said, “What for? We’re not medical experts.” He then turned to the distressed man. “How old is your daughter?”

  “She ... she’s nineteen,” he stammered.

  “And what’s wrong with her?”

  “She came back to the house Sunday morning and attacked me. I had to restrain her...”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Henry looked at Demi and then back at the man. “So your daughter went out on Saturday night and she turned into a Sav?” Henry could see the man looked confused, so he tried to explain using more simpler words. “Is she infected?”

  The man slowly nodded. “I wrestled her to the floor. Eventually, had to tie her to the bed. And then we found out what had happened on the TV.”

  “You have to put her down,” said Henry. “Even if they were open, no hospital can help you now.”

  “No. No chance.” The man stood up straight, fists clenched, incensed what Henry had just said to him. “She’s my daughter. There’ll be a cure soon.”

  “You’re clutching at straws.”

  “We still feed her and my wife cleans her up when...”

  “I know what you mean.” Henry nodded. “Even the ones that are free to roam mess themselves. We’ve seen it. We’ve smelt it.”

  The man looked ready to go back inside and wished he hadn’t have bothered them now. They could see him backing away and Demi gave Henry a nudge and nodded to the supplies in the back.

  Henry was about to protest, but Demi gave him a deathly stare.

  “Look, how are you for supplies at the moment?” Henry asked the man.

  The owner of the house hunched his shoulders and said. “It’s only the third day, but we’re running out.”

  “Why don’t you take a box of tins, eh?” said Henry, and felt another nudge in his side. “And a gallon of water from the back, and we’ll be on our way.”


  The man looked close to tears and thanked the pair of them. “I shouldn’t really be taking off you people.”

  “Why not?” Henry laughed. “It’s all stolen anyway.”

  “Okay then, but you have to come in and have a coffee. Meet the wife.”

  “Well, that’s very kind, but—” Another nudge from Demi. “Okay. Why not? But just ten minutes. We’ve got to be somewhere.”

  “Great,” said the man.

  Henry exited the vehicle and Demi did the same.

  “You grab the tins,” Henry said to the man, “and I’ll grab the water.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Both men opted not to wear a coat. They didn’t have their own with them, but the Jamesons, especially John Jameson, had left an assortment of coats in his cupboard.

  Reasonably relaxed, Paul and Melvin strolled along the road, passing the garden centre to their left, and kept their knives in their pockets. They constantly looked to their side and behind, but Paul wasn’t that edgy.

  There was a bend coming up that went to the left, and Paul knew that once they had passed the bend and the road straightened up, he’d be able to see his car in the distance. Paul took a quick gape to his right, at Mel, and could see the man was extremely nervous. It was an incredibly brave thing for him to come out, Paul thought, and had no idea why he did it. To get away from his suffocating wife? To prove her wrong, and that he wasn’t a coward? To prove himself?

  Paul decided to break the ice as they reached the bend, and began to speak.

  “Tell me somethin’, Mel,” he began.

  “What is it?”

  “When you first met Lisa ... what was the attraction?”

  Mel smiled. He had been asked this question before. A work colleague of Mel’s had gone round to the house last summer and was helping Mel fix a part of his fence. Lisa was in, and was her usual abusive self, making Mel’s colleague so baffled that he asked the same question.

  “She wasn’t always like that, you know,” said Mel. “Anyway, I do believe we’ve had a similar conversation like this the day before.”

  “I don’t get it.” Paul cleared his throat, winced, and turned to the side and spat. “There must be a part of ya that still loves her, surely.”