He snatched up the bag and stomped out of the room. Downstairs in the kitchen, he armed himself with a butcher knife from the knife-block. He moved swiftly from kitchen to hallway. With the rucksack on his back, he had one hand free; the other brandished the blade.
Jeff snatched his car key, and the keys to a light aircraft he had stored away in a private hangar on the outskirts of Cardiff, from off the wooden holder in the hallway. He counted to three – one, two, thr...then threw the front door open; it didn’t protest. He gulped his breath down and eased his way out the door. The street appeared empty. Keeping low, and hugging the wall of greenery, Jeff pushed on, now only inches from his car. No attack seemed impending as he made it out of the garden and to his car. His fingers struggled with the key. He kept missing the slot in the darkness, and scraping the paintwork. Something moved to his left, and his head darted to find a pack of them, maybe eighty-feet away, mauling a body on the floor. His gut clenched. The key found its home, clacked as he twisted, bringing their attention to him.
“Shit!” He flung the door open and threw himself behind the wheel. He slotted the key home and twisted it in the barrel, causing all doors to lock, but the engine failed him. Two of them flung themselves onto the bonnet. The noise was horrendous: the crashing bodies sounded like a shower of rocks pelting the car’s body. Jeff kept trying the engine – but it was now drowned. He sat there, praying they wouldn’t get in while he waited for the motor to settle. The two on the bonnet were disgusting: their faces were covered in air bubbles full of pus and the hair on their heads fell out as they thrashed.
They began raining blows down onto the windshield, and each time they pulled back their fists, chunks of flesh were left behind on the glass. The flesh of their knuckles was falling apart like well cooked beef. Their snarls lashed blood over the window; trails ran down the glass, washing the skin away.
While they pounded on the glass in front, the three behind hammered at the car with various objects. One held part of a picket fence in his grasp and battered the bodywork. Another stood directly behind the rear window – he bashed away with a dustbin lid. The one by his side just clawed at the wagon, snapping all his nails off.
The windshield began to crack and give way. He turned the key once again and the engine kicked to life. Dropping the handbrake, Jeff punched the accelerator to the floor. The back wheels squealed and the car lurched forward, throwing the two on the bonnet over the roof and onto the floor behind. The tires screeched and kicked off smoke and dust as Jeff pulled away.
He climbed out of the war-torn car, with knife in hand, to inspect the camouflaged vehicle for weapons. Vigilance was of the utmost importance. The orange glow of the truck’s signal lights burned with an eerie rage, and the dead night air whistled with sad song. Tonypandy: the town in which the truck was on stop, seemed deserted; newspapers and other bits of rubbish blew past his legs like tumbleweed..The shops and houses looked barren, but hostile. The darkness stretching out from the shop windows seemed bottomless; Jeff shivered and wondered if eyes looked intently back at him from all the hidey-holes of obscurity. The road had abandoned cars on it, and dead bodies littered the streets and avenues.
On approaching and opening the truck’s door, Jeff found a dead soldier in the cab; the face burnt away as though acid had been thrown into it. The body was slumped over the wheel and its hands rested at its sides. Flies lightly buzzed around and landed on the carcass to eat away at what was left of the mushy face – Jeff turned to spew on the floor.
After regaining his composure, he searched the reeking cab and found a flashlight and a holstered 9mm Browning on the waist of the dead fighter; he swapped the knife for the gun. Then it was time for the most daunting of tasks – to search the back. But before Jeff did, he made another sweep of the town. The wind still whistled sombre; the debris still danced to its tune and those windows, God those windows – so black and hellish.
The camouflaged canvas rippled in the breeze and gave the impression of movement in the back. Jeff held the gun ready in his right hand, the left carrying the torch. As he edged closer to the rear the flapping hessian seemed to wave more violently – it’s just my imagination, Jeff thought. Standing at the foot of the canvas, he pulled the cocking device back on the Browning, clicked on the torch, and pulled quickly at the flaps.
He’d expected his mind to have been playing tricks on him. Some kind of sick joke, but no, he was wrong and that wrong suddenly flew at him with clenched teeth and flying spittle. Its torn military outfit flapped in the swift advance. Jeff leapt back and let rip with the Browning. The muzzle flashes seemed to light up the whole town. It was the first time he had ever fired a gun before.
The shooting seemed to cease before it got started, and the gun soon clicked on empty. The soldier had been propelled backwards, and now lay slumped against one of the truck’s sides. He’d taken six slugs to the chest and not one elsewhere. Jeff felt he needed to five-minutes to compose himself, but he had no time to; the infected came from everywhere, as though the handgun had served as a starter pistol, or a dinner gong. He felt his gut fall into a void as they rushed at him like rats from a hole, screeching a jungle tribe war cry.
Jeff scurried into the back of the truck, where he found, and picked up, an SA80 assault machine-gun. He just about had enough time to make it back to the passenger side of the cab, and get himself inside before one of them managed to grab hold of his ankle and start to heave him backward. Jeff yelped in shock as he began to slip, but he managed to regain control over the situation, and jabbed the butt of the lightweight machine-gun into the mouth of his attacker; blood jetted from its split lips. This enabled Jeff to scramble inside and shut the door as they closed in all around him. The wagon began to cover like a beehive as Jeff slammed the locks down on both doors.
He struggled to swap seats with the melted commando, but when he finally managed to, he got the truck started and bulldozed his way through the myriad bodies clinging to the wagon – crushing heads and body parts like melons with the robust wheels.
A partition separated him from the back. But he knew some had climbed on board. Jeff could hear their growls and the Godawful scraping of nails on the panelling, which chilled him. He thought of stopping once clear of the town, and getting out to riddle the canvas with shells, but decided against it.
He might need the bullets later on.
*
A crash from behind startled them all. The men went for their machine-guns, and Roxie drew the Browning. A man spewed from the door Jeff had failed to open last night.
“Please,” he panted. “Don’t shoot. I’m not like them.”
“Best you start talking, boy bach. Or I’m going to put a burning hot slug between them eyes of yours,” Ollie said.
The stranger scrambled to his feet. “Water, p…p…please.” He held his throat. “I’ve been down there for days, mun, with de…dead… people. I…I need something to drink.”
Ollie stepped around the table, gun still trained on the man as he walked toward him.
“You don’t get a fucking drop of anything, boy, until you tell us what the fuck you’ve been doing down there. You hear me?”
“I don’t want a f…fight,” he gasped. “Just give me some water. I’ll tell you all you want to know. Duw, please.”
“Don’t come all attitude with me, boy, or you’re likely to end up hurt.”
The man cowered away from Ollie’s advance, and tried to defend himself with words.
“I only want some water. What’s your problem?”
Ollie lowered the gun and stood toe-to-toe with the other man, jabbing his finger as he spoke.
“I’m trying to keep my arse alive, and I don’t like it when people pop out of nowhere. For all I know, you could be like one of them outside, see, boy bach.”
The man swatted Ollie’s finger away, and Ollie grabbed the (not much smaller) man by his T-shirt, driving him back against the wall, cocking his fist in readiness.
“Ollie,” Jeff shouted. “Wait. Let’s hear what he has to say first.”
Jeff could see Ollie was about to jump down his throat, but then the rage cleared in Ollie’s eyes. He let go of the man’s T-shirt.
“I’m sorry Jeff, you’re right. I don’t know what came over me.” He turned to the man he had just pinned against the wall, and nodded his head in way of apology.
Maria brought him the wine, and let him drink greedily from the bottle, stopping only when he had drained it. He gulped hard and wiped his lips clean.
“I was cuffed and shoved down there.”
“By who? Who did that to you?” Jeff said.
“I’m not sure, I don’t remember much. All I know is I’ve been down there for God knows how long. I came around a few hours ago with my hands like this.”
He raised them into the air for the others to see. They were cut and bloody. One hand was cuffed, whilst the other was free. The bracelet for that hand hung loose.
“It must have popped free as I fell.” He rubbed at the back of his head. “I think I hit my head, too. I can feel a lump there.”
“How comes you never shouted out, then?” Roxie said.
“I was too scared to I guess, mun. I don’t know,” he said.
“There is no need to be sharp,” Jeff said. “She was only asking you a question.”
“Sorry, it’s…I…I…I’m hurting,” he said. “Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” Roxie said.
“The freak that did this to me. The one that killed those poor people downstairs?”
“Mammy, Daddy,” Amy shouted, and ran for the cellar stairs, only to be pulled back by Ollie.
“No, beaut, don’t go down there,” Roxie said.
“Did you kill this girl’s parents?!” Ollie roared, his face twisted with rage. Amy bucked in his strong clutch.
“Mam, Dad,” she shouted hysterically.
“No, mun, I swear. It was someone else. Please, you have to believe me,” he protested and backed away slowly.
“Jeff, boy, I think we should tie him down for a bit until we have made our minds up. We may have another killer on our hands.”
“Please, come on, mun, I…it’s the truth.”
“Okay, Ollie, I think that’s a good plan; we can’t be too careful,” Jeff agreed, ignoring the stranger’s pleas.
“Roxie, come and have Amy, gal,” Ollie said.
While Roxie and Maria looked after Amy, Jeff and Ollie strong-armed the other man into a sitting position by the fire, and fixed the loose handcuff to a pipe on the wall.
“That should hold him,” Jeff said.
“Yeah, should do, like,” Ollie said. Then he looked down at the man and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back. “I hope you didn’t kill that little girl’s family, because if you did, I’ll kill you, just like I killed the fat freak that was here yesterday.”
“Dead? Aw. That’s a relief.”
“What do you mean?” Ollie said.
“That sounds like the guy who threw me down the cellar,” he pleaded.
Ollie didn’t like what he saw in the guy’s eyes. He had a shifty look about him. Ollie didn’t trust him.
“Yeah, maybe he did.”
“You can’t just leave me cuffed to this pipe, mun. I need food, water!”
“We can do what we want – we run the show in here, boy,” Ollie said.
“What’s your name?” Roxie asked, still clinging fiercely to Amy.
“Dylan,” he said.
“What’s his name got to do with anything?” Maria asked. “He may have killed Amy’s parents.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Shut up,” Ollie shouted.
“Maybe we should just let him go,” Jeff suggested.
“Are you fucking mad, Jeff?” Ollie said.
“No, of course I’m not.”
“Well, what you on about then? We can’t just let him go.”
“What choice do we have, Ollie?”
“We can let the fucker die cuffed to that pipe.”
“But he could be an innocent man. Have you thought about that?”
“Jeff, mun. Look at him.”
“What am I looking for, Ollie?”
Dylan watched with frantic eyes as the two men decided his fate. All the while he tugged at the pipe, testing its durability. It was weak; rusted. Much like everything else in the cottage. With one hard tug, maybe two, he could be free, and away from here.
“He looks crazier than a shithouse rat,” Ollie said.
“Don’t you think you would look like that after spending time in a dark hole with nothing but dead people for company?” Jeff said.
Ollie backed down momentarily.
“So what do we do with him, Jeff? Ollie might be right. We can’t be too careful,” Maria said.
“I know,” Jeff said.
“I am here…” Dylan started.
“Pipe down,” Jeff told him. “I need to think.”
“Well don’t think too long, Jeff, butt,” Ollie said. “We have to get out of here in the morning.”
“Yeah, I know, Ollie.”
“And we ain’t taking this knobhead with us.”
“Okay, okay. I realise that. I don’t want him with us either.”
“But why? I ain’t done anything, like. You have to—”
“I said, shut up!” Ollie roared. Roxie and Maria flinched. Amy began sobbing harder against Roxie. “One more fucking peep out of you, and I’m going to smack your lights out,” Ollie warned.
“Ollie, calm down, you’re scaring Amy. Please,” Roxie said.
“I…” Ollie didn’t bother finishing.
Jeff put his hand on Ollie’s arm, and clutched it. “We’re all scared, Ollie. We can’t let our emotions get the better of us. All I was going to suggest was that we let him go. Let him walk out of here. He doesn’t have to be a part of this group. He can find his own.”
Dylan looked up with pleading eyes, and said, “You can’t just send me out there.”
Ollie seemed to simmer. Jeff could feel the big man relax. “Okay,” Ollie said.
“First light, we’ll send him on his way,” Jeff said.
“First light? You want to keep him in here with us until morning?”
“We don’t have much choice.”
Ollie looked over at Roxie and Amy, then to Maria before finally turning back to face Jeff. “Okay, first light it is. But I want to guard him first.”
“That’s fair enough,” Jeff said.
Ollie nodded at Jeff, then walked over to the cellar door to close it. But, before he did, he went down there, telling the others to stay put, and to keep Amy back. When he returned, he shut it with force, jamming it shut so that Amy wouldn’t be able to go down there.
“Are my mam and dad down there? Are they dead?” Amy asked with a sob.
Ollie rested his head against the door. “What was your mam wearing?” Ollie asked.
“A dress; pink with flowers.”
“And your dad?” Ollie asked.
“A blue shirt and jeans,” Amy said, her lower lip shaking. “Is…is it them down there?” she asked.
Ollie nodded his head.
Amy buried her face into Roxie’s body, wailing and crying.
Dylan wanted to say something, to try to plead his innocence again. But there seemed little point. The group had made their mind up: he was to be kicked out at sunrise to fend for himself. It could be worse, he thought. They could be kicking me out now.
“Jeff, butt. Where’s that map you picked up earlier?”
“It should be in one of the rucksacks.”
Dylan watched as the two men spread the map out across the table the girls had cleared, while Amy searched through some clothes Roxie had picked up for her at Asda. All the while he kept gently pulling at the cuff. He could hear the pipe creak under the pressure, which he applied every so often.
“It looks like the airport is only about five to eight miles away from
here, Jeff.”
“Hmm,” Jeff said. “Maybe we could cut through here, Ollie?” Jeff indicated to an old B-road on the map.
“Yeah, seems like a solid route.”
“We shouldn’t encounter much trouble out on those roads.”
“All farms and fields, butt. Not a town in sight,” Ollie said.
“Guess our luck is getting better. I thought we were the other side of Cardiff.”
“Yeah, that’s going to save us having to go through the city centre.”
“I bet the place is nothing more than a dead city, like Twsc.”
“Could be highly populated by them though, Jeff,” Ollie said.
“I guess it doesn’t matter now, either way.”
“True.”
A burst of laughter erupted from behind Ollie. He turned to see Roxie tickle Amy and wrestle the young girl to the floor. Jeff hadn’t noticed, and was now engaged in a conversation with Maria. Ollie watched as his beautiful girlfriend played big sister to Amy, who now seemed resilient to what was going on around her.
Ollie knelt by their side, and kissed Roxie.
“Ugh!” Amy mocked. “Boys got germs,” she said.
“Not this one,” Roxie said.
“And what would you know about boys then?” Ollie said, smiling.
Amy blushed, and turned away.
“Ha-ha. Made her blush,” he said.
Roxie lightly slapped Ollie’s arm. “Stop it, mun. Poor dab is all embarrassed now.”
“I think this one will take some embarrassing, won’t she?” he asked, and then began tickling Amy’s side. She let out a shriek of laughter, and pleaded with Ollie to stop. “You’ll take some embarrassing, won’t you, crwt?” he said.
“He-he, yes, please, stop,” she begged.
Roxie giggled. Watching the way Ollie was with the young girl almost brought tears to her eyes. Turning thirty had made Roxie think about her and Ollie’s future together. They had spoken about giving up life on the road a few times, but she knew how loyal Ollie was to Dutch, and the rest of the Boas. Ollie had told her that he would give it all up for her, that he too wanted to settle down.
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