Jeff and Roxie entered the shop. Roxie drew her 9mm Browning from behind her back, while Jeff lowered his machine-gun as they went inside, unsure of what they might find.
Inside was no better than the outside. The aisles were littered with the dead, and the air smelt of rotten food. Some had been attacked by knifes and broken bottles. One man lay amongst the vegetables, a cleaver buried deep in his forehead; his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Some were slumped over trolleys, others draped over freezers. The floor was awash with dry, sticky blood – which, when trod on, made a scratching sound like a Velcro strap. A low hum from the backup generators could be heard, and eerie elevator muzak played over the carnage.
“They’re in here, Roxie. I can feel them all around us, hiding in the darkness, in the walls, scratching and sniffing. The daylight is the only thing keeping us safe.”
“Please, Jeff, keep those bloody thoughts of yours to yourself mun, is it?”
“Sorry, I…I, didn’t mean to s—”
“I know. But let’s just grab a trolley or something, and fill it. That way we can wheel it over to the jeep.”
“This is a customer’s announcement. We are pleased to inform our shoppers today of the offer on our dairy products…”
The burst of a human voice from the amplifiers around the store caused Roxie to shout out. Jeff turned and rattled off a few rounds, sending cans of pop fizzing into the air. The crack of gunfire quickened his heart, making blood rush to his ears and flare with heat.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jeff panted. “Shit, sorry, Roxie.”
She didn’t reply. Jeff turned to find Roxie huddled in a ball, pushed tight against one of the aisles. Hands over her ears; the 9mm by her side. Jeff shouldered the gun and crouched down by her side, carefully putting his hands to her arms.
“Hey, come on. It’s okay. I just freaked out, that’s all. There’s nothing living in here except you and me, Roxie. Come on,” he cooed. “Let’s get cracking, no need for us to be in here longer than ten minutes.”
She looked up at him, the vagueness gone from her eyes.
“Come on,” he mouthed.
Roxie took hold of her gun, and got to her feet.
“Sorry, Jeff, I…I don’t know what came over me. I just thought that, that maybe it was our end.”
“No, nothing like that, I just got jumpy. That bloody announcement flustered me.”
“Hmm, me too,” she said, letting a small laugh slip. “Do you mind coming with me to get a trolley?”
“No, not at all.”
They skirted around the bodies in the aisles as they loaded the trolley with bottled water, tinned foods, such as soups, and packet goods – biscuits, pastas and other bits and pieces. They found disposable BBQ sets that would come in handy to cook on. Both of them picked up toiletries and Jeff got a sleeve of cigarettes for Ollie. Backpacks, candles, torches, batteries, lighter fluid and various other things were tossed into the metal trolley, along with a map of the immediate area that Roxie had managed to find, and a radio.
Once they had finished inside, they headed back over to Ollie and Maria. But not before stopping at an Army and Navy Surplus Store they came across. Jeff looked down at his feet; the old trainers he wore were coming apart.
“Do you want to wait out here, or do you want to come in with me?”
“That’s a bit of a daft question mun, Jeff.”
The inside of the small shop was stuffy, and dusky. Not much light came through the window, which was filled with mannequins dressed in military garb, displaying some of the foldaway knifes and axes that were sold here. Roxie led the way into the shop, the Browning pointed out in front of her with stiff arms. Jeff followed close behind.
“Let’s just grab a bunch of shit, and get out of here,” Roxie said, her voice quivering.
“I’m with you on that one.”
Jeff headed straight for the boots and grabbed the first pair of size tens he came across. Discarding his trainers, he slipped his new footwear on. Roxie picked up a military-style rucksack and begun filling it with what she thought they would need. A compass, Buck knives camp axe and Buck Knives folding saw, a Kelly Kettle, a Billy Can Nesting Set, along with some glow sticks.
Jeff followed suit, and grabbed another holdall. He filled his with a duel fuel stove, another axe, a couple of warm padded shirts, trousers and thick socks. He went outside and placed his bag by the trolley, as did Roxie. They went back in to have another go, and were greeted by a guy well over six feet tall, wearing combat trousers and a flask jacket that had Property of the United States Army inscribed on it. His face was an oozing mass of multicoloured pus. His eyes were a dull white, which stared vacantly. In his hands he held a Bowie knife. Second and third knives were sheathed at either side of his hips. He began to growl from the pit of his gut. His mouth opened slightly, exposing bars of saliva that stretched from one side of his mouth to the other. He charged at them.
Jeff was quickly up with his gun, but it jammed. Beads of sweat burst on his brow. The soldier wannabe closed in on him.
“Come on, come on, work,” he shouted as he rattled the cocking mechanism.
Then three loud cracks blasted in Jeff’s ears; they had come from behind. Jeff watched the ‘weekend warrior’ take two slugs to the chest. The third found his gut as the man was propelled backwards toward the counter. He smashed into the glass of a display case.
He fought to get back to his feet, but Roxie made sure of the job. She emptied two more bullets into the guy’s skull. Bone, brain matter and blood spurted across the wall.
Jeff could taste the burnt gunpowder of the exhausted shells, and smell the gun oil. He felt sick at the sight of the man’s open head, which looked like a cracked egg. Roxie looked up at Jeff. A thin stream of blood had snaked its way up her clothes to the bridge of her nose. She was panting hard.
“Come on. Let’s get the bloody hell out of here, before more of them turn up.”
“Wait,” she said, heading back over to one of the shelves. There she holstered her gun behind her again, and picked up two Jerry cans, capable of holding up to twenty-litres of fluid each.
“We could fill these with petrol. That Asda had a petrol station. You never know, Jeff, we may need some along the way, like.”
He knew she had a point; the thought of going back to that dead place was chilling. But he knew they had to. He also grabbed two Jerry cans. They headed out of the shop to their trolley.
“We should be able to get at least three of these cans in there. I can carry the other two.”
Roxie nodded.
Jeff pushed the trolley back to the petrol station, while Roxie guarded them. The sky was beginning to lose some of its light, and that worried them. But they said nothing.
The forecourt to the petrol station was jammed with cars and their dead owners. A woman clutching a child close to her chest could be seen huddled against a car. The sex of the child couldn’t be determined, as its hair was matted to the skull, which appeared to have been kick or bludgeoned open. The mother’s face was badly beaten, suggesting that the pair had indeed been clobbered to death.
“Let’s not hang around, Jeff, love. This place is beginning to give me the willies.”
Both Jeff and Roxie went to different pumps. They filled two of the Jerry cans with diesel for the plane. And one each full of leaded and unleaded, not knowing what the Jeep took.
They took their haul back to Ollie and Maria, who were waiting on them. Amy got out of the 4x4 and went to Roxie. The young girl put her arms around Roxie.
“Hey then, what’s all this about, bach?” Roxie said.
“Glad you’re back safe,” Amy said.
“Aw,” Roxie said, stroking the young girl’s hair. “Hey, I brought you some sweets and some warm clothes to change into.”
The young girl looked up at Roxie, and smiled. Ollie had to gulp the wedge out of his throat on seeing his girlfriend interract with the youngster. He walked over to them and kissed Roxie
on the forehead. “What took you so long, then? I was getting worried, beaut,” Ollie said.
“Were you worried?” Roxie said.
He nodded, and pulled her close. “Next time, I’m going with you.”
“Hey, Ollie,” Jeff called. “I got you some cigarettes.” He threw the sleeve over to Ollie who, on catching them, thanked Jeff.
“I got this baby going,” Roxie said.
“Great,” Jeff said. “Let’s fill and get out of here.”
The four of them filled the Hilux with the gear Jeff and Roxie had managed to get, apart from some food and the duel stove which they filled with petrol to take back to the house. They waited as Ollie parked the jeep in a nearby street. Happy that their vehicle was safe for the night, they headed back before light was totally lost, and the streets were filled with them once again.
Chapter 7
They sat around the makeshift table with a couple of candles in the middle. The sun had set, and the moon had moved in for the night. Ollie popped the cork on the bottle of wine Jeff and Roxie had picked up earlier; he passed it around the table for the others to take a swig.
They’d set the small radio up at the side of them, but nothing could be found on any of the channels. Roxie had made a sweep of the radio bands almost as soon as they had got back from their scavenger hunt. Nothing but dead air blasted out at them – hisssss; Jeff had received the same response from the army truck’s CB radio. They appeared to be totally alone.
“I thought we might have found someone down in Twsc, today.” Maria shook her head in disbelief. “What a shambles it is over there. I’ve never heard of, let alone seen, so much death and destruction in my life.” She felt sick, and pushed her plate away. “I can’t stomach anymore, sorry. The thought of all those dead people being pecked at by hungry birds gives me the…It reminds me of Jim…” She trailed off, and shuddered.
“You should eat, Maria. It’ll help keep your strength up,” Jeff said.
She again shook her head. “No, I can’t touch another bite.”
Ollie also looked sheepish – he was drinking and smoking more than he was eating. He had hardly touched his meal, and as a big man he needed the energy more than any of them.
“I think I’ve had enough too, love,” Roxie said to Ollie.
Ollie grabbed her hand, and squeezed it. “You feeling alright, bach? You’re looking a bit pale. Come here, and let me give you a cwtch.”
“I’m fine. I’ve just had enough.”
“I think today may have been a lot for us to handle. The sight of such… slaughter,” Jeff said.
“You must have seen a lot worse when you were making your way here, Jeff?” Ollie said.
“Yes, I did. I saw a lot of bad things out there.”
He took a good swallow of wine before handing it to Maria, who also took a good drink. “I…I had to kill Kathryn. My wife. She became sick.”
“Fucking hell,” Ollie said, closing his hand around Roxie’s.
“Ollie!” Roxie said sharply. “Don’t swear in front of Amy.”
The young girl was sat between them, slowly picking away at her food, seemingly oblivious to it all.
“Sorry, beaut. But the thought of having to do you in is…is…well, awful.” He felt his throat tighten.
“I’m just glad I didn’t have days to ponder how I was going to kill her. The sickness came on fast. Very fast.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, butty. I had to kill a few of our friends when we were on the road. Done my best mate in, like.” A tear rolled from Ollie’s left eye. “I’ve known him for years, since we were kids. I see him in my nightmares, mun.” He took a deep breath before speaking again. “So how did you manage to get from your home?”
*
He stood over her dead body – a lump of wood in his left hand. She lay naked and twisted to one side on the soft white carpet. A pool had gathered from her blood; it was becoming a brown mustard colour. Her long brunette hair rested in lazy, rusty coloured ringlets to her left side. The right-hand side of her skull was caved in. Now Jeff stood in his worst nightmare: he had killed his own wife.
He raised his right hand to his face and pinched his thumb and forefinger into the corner of his eyes to stop the tears. His shoulders jumped and his body quivered. Without looking up, he pictured the photo on the nightstand at the side of their bed. The frame held a caption of them strolling along a beach in Hawaii; it had been taken by a young boy for three dollars. The holiday had been their honeymoon. God she had looked beautiful that day on the sands, he thought.
The disease had taken her fast; Jeff never even saw it coming. He thought they were safe penned up in the house. But then she became sick, only slightly at first. Within hours her skin had become blistered – then the aggression started.
He threw the plank to one side and fell to his knees by his wife’s side. He scooped her up into his arms and held her close to his chest. He whispered, “I love you”. His weeping was uncontrollable as he gripped her tight to his body.
A roaring smash from downstairs brought him out of the loving embrace – Jeff listened. He could hear one of them shuffling around down there. His heart raced and thudded against his ribs. He gently lowered Kathryn back down onto the carpet. Strings of blood pulled away from her lips, the other end of which were fused to his chest.
He picked up the wood again and headed to the bedroom door. Out on the landing, Jeff stood and listened to the noises downstairs. How in the hell did they manage to break their way in?
Low growls and hissing sounds could be heard down there. He looked at his trembling hands, and clutched tightly at the clubbing instrument, determined to shake the quiver. He could feel the pine bore into his skin. Beads of sweat began to trickle down his temples – his mouth arid; Jeff could feel his tongue becoming bulbous through the dryness.
He edged along the corridor, and as he neared the top of the stairs he was able to peer around the balustrade. His bladder clenched.
Jeff placed his right foot on the top step, which barked with his weight. A face appeared around the corner of the door jamb to the living room. Its head was bent, and greenish-yellow dribble hung from the lolling jaws in chunky threads; the tongue bobbed on its cord. It didn’t so much as hear or see Jeff, it just sensed his presence. Jeff drew in a gasp of breath as the dead eyes turned his way; it was Ted Ebbing from next door.
Ted’s face blistered and popped with bubbles of God knows what kind of fluid. His forehead and jawline pissed fluid. Ted’s mandible suddenly became strong and brutal-looking. A low-sounding growl found its way out of his mouth; a thin smile appeared on the lips.
“Stay back, Ted, stay back or I will be forced to take you down.”
Jeff brandished the wood out in front of him, but Ted didn’t seem to care as he began to ascend the stairs.
“Please, Ted, don’t come any closer, or I will be forced to hit you.”
Ted reacted by bounding up the stairs like a rabid dog. Slobber found its way onto the walls as Ted headed straight for his target. His actions were more like a Safari predator than a man of eighty.
Instead of lashing out with the full-bodied stick, Jeff stuck out his foot; the heel found the side of the Ted’s jaw, sending the head sideways and snapping his brittle neck. Jeff jumped back as Ted just stood there for a couple of seconds with his head rolling around on twisted neck muscles before finally collapsing backwards. The tumble was hard; he bounced off the wall and crashed through the banisters. He came to rest at the bottom, his face peppered with splinters. Christ, Jeff thought, I’ve just killed an old man. Snap out of it, he told himself, everyone is killing one another out there. Chances are Ted has already killed Angharad.
He knew now that boxing himself in the house had not been such a good idea, because they could clearly get in. He decided there and then that he had to make it to his car out front and get the hell out of here, but go where? The world was crumbling from this disease; there’s an army of sick people out there, wa
iting in the shadows to take a chunk out of you whether or not your back is turned. The law and army had been shred to nothing; phones were down, T.V stations also. It had been a joke how the army had tried to stamp the problem out; their heavy-handed tactics had failed. Jeff remembered Ann Swiss, local DJ, on the radio telling people to stay indoors, and discussing the issue with people on a phone-in. The army had broken in and told her to shut down. On refusal, they’d shot her and the rest of the morning team dead, live on radio. That had been just a day ago, right at the beginning of this mess; but Jeff could still hear how that dead air had sounded, almost deafening. Then the plugs had been pulled. The phone lines had gone around the same time. The reports of killings soared by the hour. Reports of babies being slaughtered by loving parents; wives battering husbands to death and vice-versa. A story of a gun club owner who went into his local pub armed with a shotgun, and rattled off twelve rounds of ammo, before being stabbed in the throat and killed by the landlord.
Jeff shook his thoughts free and went downstairs – his heart still pounding. He winced at the cruel noises escaping from the boards. But Jeff was pretty sure no more of them were in the house. At the bottom, he peered around the doorframe and into the living room. One of Kathryn’s two-foot-high plant pots lay in the middle of the room; red and orange haze snaked its way in through the gaping hole. Jeff tip-toed to the window, being careful not to tread on any of the scattered glass; bitter cold wind whistled through the room. Through the tattered glass, only burning buildings and ruined valley towns could be seen for miles around.
Jeff turned and ran for the bedroom – he half expected Kathryn to come at him again, but she was dead; a harsh reality. He placed the wood on the bed and pulled his rucksack out of the wardrobe – beginning to pack it half blind. He plucked the photo frame off the stand, buried his fist into the glass and snatched the photo from inside..He threw on the rumpled clothes that had been lying at his side of the bed. The old blue faded jeans felt good and snug.
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