“I love you,” Ollie said. looking over at Roxie.
She smiled. “Me…”
Loud guttural growls from outside, followed by thumps and slams at the main window, stopped Roxie talking. Ollie went for his machine-gun, as did Jeff. Roxie drew her pistol, leaving Maria to arm herself with the shotgun. Amy stood behind Roxie, whimpering. Dylan raged on the floor, as he pulled and tugged at the pipe, aching to be free. But the pipe was much more solid than he’d first thought.
“Help me,” he shouted. “Please, for fuck’s sake, help.” The veins in his neck stood out, and his face became beetroot red. “Please, you’ve got…”
Jeff clamped a hand to the man’s mouth. “Shh.”
All Dylan could do was mumble under Jeff’s hand.
“Whack him, Jeff.” Ollie said.
Jeff removed his hand from Dylan’s mouth. “Shut up, we won’t let them harm you.”
The front door came under severe blows as it rattled in the jamb, and Ollie could hear them out there, growling with excitement. They were close to getting in. The table came away from the window and crashed to the floor. A lump of granite came hurtling through the exposed window pane. Glass exploded. They were in.
Jeff let rip first, mowing three of them down as they tried to scramble through the window – the door appeared to be holding, for now.
“We’ve got to get that table back up, Jeff,” Ollie shouted across the blazing gunfire.
Roxie and Maria joined the fray, emptying slug and shell into the hordes starting to gather at the window; Amy was now screaming as she hid under the table. Maria blasted one which managed to escape Jeff’s bullets, and was in the living room. Her bullet caught it in the chest, pushing it back and out the window. Roxie also killed one, pumping three bullets into a teenage girl holding a sickle; she fell within the cottage, and wriggled about on the floor before coming to rest face up. Her blood drained out, soaking the boards beneath.
When there appeared to be no more movement outside, they all stopped shooting. The room was filled with gun smoke, causing Ollie to cough. Jeff walked to the window with caution, and peeked out. Bodies lay scattered across the ground.
One was still moving around on the floor. Jeff put a bullet in its head, spraying the grass with brain and blood. Jeff called Ollie closer.
“Look, out there,” he told Ollie. Ollie poked his head out the window, and felt the cold night air cool his face. The army truck had been moved out into the field.
“How?” he said.
“Good question, because I have the keys to it.”
“They must have…have…lifted the handbrake and pushed it out of the way?” Ollie said, a baffled look on his face.
“If that’s the case, then they are getting much smarter,” Jeff said, his tone sombre.
“Now you come to mention it,” Ollie said. “They did cut the tyres on our bikes, and the truck.”
“True,” Jeff said.
“And they managed to kill the power in the petrol station,” Maria added.
“I didn’t want to say anything last night,” Jeff said. “But I’m sure I saw one of them wave at me when I was on guard last…shit!”
One jumped from out of the darkness, its face a blood-soaked mess. He swung at Ollie with a baseball bat, but missed, giving Jeff the opportunity to plunge the small, lethal bayonet on the end of his machine-gun deep into the thing’s neck. Jeff twisted the steel to one side, and on retraction, a chunk of the thing’s throat came away with the knife; blood spattered Jeff’s face.
“Shit!” Ollie shouted. His face had lost its colour.
“We have to go out there and get the truck back in place,” Jeff said.
Ollie looked at Jeff, and knew that it had to be done.
Chapter 8
Ollie and Jeff looked at the teen girl lying dead on the floor. Roxie had managed to hit the girl twice in the chest area, and once in the face; half the girl’s jaw was missing. The two men caught hold of an arm each, and dragged the body to the window, throwing it outside with the rest.
Ollie unlocked the door, and peeped out. The coast seemed clear at the moment.
“Jeff, toss me the keys to the truck,” Ollie said.
“You can’t go…” Jeff tried to protest.
“Quick, we don’t have much time, mun.”
Jeff dug the keys from his pocket, and threw them over to Ollie.
“Get that table back up on the window, butty.”
“Ollie, please, love, let someone go with you,” Roxie pleaded.
“No, it will only slow me down. I’ll be faster on my own.”
“But—” she tried to argue.
“But nothing. I think you, Amy and Maria should go upstairs out of the way.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Jeff. “Just until we are safe again.”
“What the fuck about me?” Dylan shouted.
Ollie stormed over to the man on the floor – his temper lost – and slammed the butt of his gun into Dylan’s face, knocking him out.
“Ollie!” Maria shouted.
“Get upstairs, now, the three of you,” Ollie shouted.
Jeff didn’t protest. As he picked up the table, blood-stained glass slid off it and sprinkled the floor. He saw Ollie leave the cottage as he heaved it up against the window.
“Maria, pass me over the jar of nails and the hammer, please.”
“Where did you put them?”
“I think Ollie took them out to the kitchen last night,” Roxie said.
Once Jeff had the hammer and nails, he told the women to go upstairs with Amy, saying that he would look after the unconscious Dylan, and wait for Ollie to get back.
*
Ollie made his way over to the army truck which had been pushed a good twenty feet from the cottage. Nothing seemed to move in the field, which was lit up by fires burning in nearby Twsc. It appeared they had killed all that had been outside. But Ollie couldn’t be sure of this, so he commando-sneaked through the long grass, keeping his ears pricked.
He turned slowly upon hearing a thumping coming from inside the cottage, and remembered that Jeff was placing the table back over the window. Ollie reached the back of the truck, and looked in. Nothing. Standing with his back to the truck, he held the gun upward and tight to his chest. He counted – one, two, three. He looked around the corner. Nothing. He shuffled over to the other end of the truck and, without counting, peered around. Two eyes glared back at him, and Ollie shouted as the thing winked at him.
Ollie jumped back, trying to lower his gun to shoot, but the thing leapt onto him, the weight almost crushing him. Hungry fingers dug at his eyes, pulled at his hair and found their way into Ollie’s mouth, pulling at his tongue. Ollie tried to scream, to force the dirty digits out of his gob, but failed. The thing was drooling all over him. Ollie managed to stay upright, and tried ramming the thing against the truck, again and again and again, until eventually it lost its grip on him and fell to the floor.
Ollie took full advantage of this – kicked the ageing man in the teeth, which flipped him over onto his back. He growled up at Ollie, spitting chippings of broken teeth and blood at him. Ollie didn’t hesitate, using the bayonet on his machine gun. He stabbed the steel into the man’s heart, then stepped on the body to help yank the blade free. “Got you,” he spat.
He made his way to the cab of the truck, and opened the door slowly, pointing his gun out in front of him. It was empty. Ollie jumped in behind the wheel and started the truck. He reversed it back as far as he could, before the dead bodies outside the cottage stopped him.
Jeff came out to see Ollie rush from the truck’s driver side.
“I have to move these bodies out of the way, Jeff, mate.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a hand.”
“No, mun. Keep me covered while I do it. I’ve already almost had my arse chewed off.”
As Ollie started dragging the bodies away from the window, Jeff swept the field with his gun. He could hear the grass rustle in
the distance. Then, whatever was out there, came closer. He trained his gun in the direction he thought it was coming from in the darkness, and walked toward it. A low snarl filled the night.
“Jeff, where the fuck are you going?” Ollie snapped.
“Shh, I hear one over here. Keep going, I got you covered.”
Jeff waded out into the darkness, and by the shadow light of the fires, he saw something low and moving in the grass in front of him, less than thirty feet away. Then movement to the right – then left.
“Shit, Ollie, I got three or four of them coming at us.”
“Kill the bastards, mun. Don’t worry about ammo, we have plenty inside.”
More snarling – louder, closer – on top of him. Jeff hunched lower, trying to see between the blades of grass. He lifted his gun and peered down the sights. Directly in front of him the grass moved – he fired a burst of rounds then ceased fire. He heard his target whine and flop in the grass.
“Fuck, fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Ollie called.
“Dogs,” Jeff said. “And lots of them.”
One sprung out of cover at Jeff, its face ravaged and pulpy. Its eyes black like tiny cuttings of coal. Its body filled with welts which seeped blood. Jeff jumped back out of the leaping dog’s way, but his feet got entangled in the grass, and he fell backwards, losing his grip on his gun, which flew into the night.
The dog was on him, trying brutally to rip his throat out. Jeff managed to get his hands on the mutt’s snout, and clamped its jaws closed.
“Ollie, help, help, for Christ’s sake, help,” Jeff screamed. His lungs burned. Tears stung his eyes, and his body hurt from the ripping claws of the dog.
Jeff didn’t hear Ollie rush through the grass to his aid, nor did he see him grab the dog, but he did see the way in which Ollie snapped the dog’s neck in one swift move. The hound yelped, just the once.
“Get inside, Jeff, bach,” Ollie shouted. “I’ve cleared the bodies.”
Jeff watched as Ollie shot another approaching dog before jumping into the truck. He got to his feet, found his gun nearby, and headed into the cottage. He heard the truck scrape the walls as Ollie parked it up tight to the building. He went to the door and saw Ollie rip the wires from under the steering column and slice them up with his knife. He then shuffled over to the passenger door, and started to get out.
“Where the hell are you going?” Jeff asked.
“To make sure.”
“To make sure of what?”
“That they can never move this thing again.”
Ollie got out of the truck and went around the front. He opened fire on the tyre that had not been punctured the previous night, then did the same to the back one.
“Let’s see them push it on four flats,” Ollie said, and smiled.
He got back into the cab, shuffled over to the driver’s side door, got out, and went into the cottage. He shut and locked the door behind him. Ollie looked at Dylan – the man was still out cold; his head hung low. A thick line of saliva hung from his open mouth. A bruise was forming at the side of his temple.
“Shit,” Ollie said. “I shouldn’t have hit him like that.”
“There wasn’t a call for it, I agree. But I’m not sure I trust him that much either,” Jeff said.
“Hmm. Where are the girls?”
“They went upstairs, out of the way,” Jeff said.
Ollie walked over to the bottom of the stairs, and shouted up. “You can come down now, the coast is clear.” Ollie made his way over to Dylan, slipping on the blood and glass as he went. “Damn it,” he said, but he managed to steady himself. He bent over Dylan, and shook the man by his shoulder. “Dylan? Dylan?” Ollie called. “Hope I ain’t killed him, Jeff.”
“Let me see.” Jeff grabbed Dylan’s wrist and felt for a pulse. “He’s fine, just out of it.”
Roxie, Amy and Maria came rushing down from the second floor.
“Are you two alright, then?” Roxie ask.
“Apart from my sides,” Jeff said. “A dog attacked me out there. The bloody thing stamped all over me, dug its claws into my sides and chest.”
Maria pulled Jeff’s jumper up, and examined the areas. “The pooch didn’t appear to break any skin. You have scratches, but that’s about it. You’ll be fine.”
They all sat back at the table, and Amy drank some fizzy pop while she chatted quietly to Roxie. They all discussed what had just happened, and what they needed to do next.
Ollie had taken first watch, just as he’d wanted. Dylan had taken a few hours to come around after Ollie had hit him, and his mood had been foul. He’d refused to even look at Ollie, or answer any of Ollie’s questions. Now Ollie was sitting opposite his prisoner, who was asleep.
Ollie got up from where he was sitting to make a sweep of the house, his machine-gun strapped to his back. He firstly checked upstairs, then out the kitchen, then finally out the back. There didn’t seem to be any of them hanging around outside, certainly not at the rear of the house. Maybe they had killed all of the ones in the nearby area.
Once he was finished at the back of the house, Ollie went to the main window. He could feel a breeze coming through the hole there. He sighed with relief, and sucked in the cool air; there were none out front either..That will make escape easier tomorrow, Ollie thought, looking behind him for a moment – Dylan was still asleep. Everyone was asleep.
Jeff and Maria were propped against the wall next to the fire with a blanket over them; they looked so peaceful. It was going to be a shame having to wake Jeff for his turn to take watch. Maybe he would give it another half an hour before he woke him. The guy was starting to get on a bit; Ollie sniggered at that thought.
Then he looked over at Roxie, who was snuggled up to Amy in front of the fire. They too looked still amidst everything that was going on in the world.
He sat opposite Dylan, and cast his mind back to Roxie playing snap with Amy. She had really managed to bring the child out of her shell, making her forget the horror she had been subjected to the day before. Then his mind wandered to how lucky they had been with the infected, and how they could all have been killed.
Were they getting smart? Was that possible? He ran over the facts in his head. Maria had told him that they had pulled all the wires out of the cameras at the petrol station. But that could have just been luck, right? After all, they were just wrecking the joint in a mad way. They couldn’t possibly know how to bring the power down, their minds are just mush? Then how do you explain one waving at Jeff the other night? And the one that winked at me? Ollie thought. They could be becoming intelligent – evolving into something different, somehow. But if that’s the case, then why don’t they know what they are doing, for fuck’s sake? And then there was the tyre slashing, and the moving of the truck. They must have been working together to have moved it. Communicated with each other. In grunts? “Huh,” he scoffed.
Ollie didn’t want to think about it anymore, he was scaring himself. He wanted sleep. He needed to hold Roxie. He got up and headed over to Jeff, throwing a few logs onto the fire as he did so, and shook the sleeping man by the shoulder.
“Jeff,” Ollie whispered. “Jeff, butt, wake up.”
After another couple of shakes, Jeff blinked his eyes open. “I’m awake,” he yawned. “How long have I been out?”
Ollie looked at the small clock they had picked up. “Around four hours, mate.”
“Oh, God, my back.”
Ollie smiled, “Yeah, well, you ain’t getting any younger to be sleeping around on floors, are you?”
“Bloody cheek. Go on, go and get some sleep, Ollie. We need to have our wits about us tomorrow.”
“Aye, we will, mate. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble out of Dylan – he hasn’t moved since we settled down.”
Both men spoke in hushed voices so as not to wake the others.
“Right, I’m off for some kip,” Ollie said. “Oh, and I think we may have killed all the infected that wer
e hanging around this area.”
“Hmm,” Jeff said. “Are you sure about that?”
“Ain’t seen any for hours now, butty. I’ll have one more look upstairs now before I head off to bed.”
“Okay, but it sounds promising,” Jeff said.
“Yeah, it does. Right, I’m heading upstairs for one last sweep.”
Jeff nodded, and went to sit over by the window. He liked it there; he could see out. He had nailed the table up in such a way this time that he had more of a gap his side to see out of. He looked over at Ollie, who was heading up to the second floor. Roxie began to stir. He gave Dylan the once over; he didn’t move.
Outside seemed to be deserted, and a cold, harsh wind blew in through the hole in the glass, fanning Jeff’s face. He didn’t mind it – it was nice to be able to cool down after being in front of the fire for so long. He’d move in a while, but first he wanted to sit and think.
Ollie went into the first room at the top of the stairs. He didn’t hesitate, knowing there was nothing up there. The room was empty: no furniture, no beds. Nothing. He went to the window and looked out. The field outside was empty. He turned and headed out the door and into the next room. On the landing he could hear Jeff tell Roxie that he was upstairs. Ollie didn’t pause, and instead went to the next door, into a box-sized room with a double bed and a dirty duvet. He went straight to the window. The scene was the same – there were none of those things left alive.
“Ollie?” Roxie’s soft voice called. “I love you,” she whispered.
He gulped. “Where did that come from?” he managed, and turned to face her.
“I never got to tell you properly, earlier.”
“That’s okay; I know the score, beaut.” He walked over to her and pushed some of her hair back out of her face, and stroked her cheek. He put both his hands on her face, and drew it in close to his. Placing his rough lips on her soft, dry ones, he kissed her once. He ran one hand through her hair and massaged the base of her small skull. He pushed her softly away.
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