Deadweight

by Forster, Paul

  They walked a little and chatted casually. They covered their previous lives before the plague and Gareth expressed how impressive he was. How many beautiful women he had bedded, the millions he'd made, his cars and apartments. By the time he'd finished Peter didn't feel like talking about his mundane life. Gareth liked Peter, he was a bit of a boring little man, but by being alive he'd proved he wasn't completely useless. What Gareth really liked was that he knew the type of person Peter was, one who'd be easy to manipulate, he was a follower.

  Peter stopped dead and dropped slowly to one knee and pulled Gareth with him. A few hundred metres ahead, two feeders swayed next to a car crashed into a short stonewall. Peter had got used to seeing this behaviour, with no food around, they would sometimes just wait for a sign of an animal or human before using energy to pursue them.

  “We can take them.” Gareth was confident, overconfident. They could see two, but there could be more.

  “With your gun?” Peter was glad to finally have some firepower nearby.

  Gareth shrugged. “Too noisy, my timber and your spear, it’ll be a doddle.”

  “I’d rather not, we could cut across that field, bypass them and lose maybe only ten minutes.” Peter had become adept and evading these things. He was far more comfortable running than fighting.

  “Look, there's only two of them and that car, there might be something there.” Gareth would not take no for an answer. He knew you have to take risks to get rewards, hiding in fields wouldn't put food in their bellies.

  “There might be more, there are always more.” Peter didn't want to appear to be afraid, he was, but he didn't want his new friend to know he was a coward.

  “Trust me Pete, we can do this.” Gareth strode ahead, obliging Peter to follow him.

  They were close to the two monsters, a third was on the floor trapped under the car, it wouldn't be an unreasonable burden to take care of. Gareth struck first from behind, felling the creature. Peter leapt forward with his spear and forced it into the second creature's head, but he had neither the power nor the aim. The blade slid across the back if its head, severing the ear clean off but performing no useful damage. It swung quickly around to face him, an angry snarl with a glint of delight that a meal was now close. Peter tried again finding its throat, but it wasn't to be put off by a small inconvenience such as this. Peter could smell its rotten breath as it was about to bite, he was frozen with fear. He heard wood hitting skull, and it fell to his side. Gareth stood before him, the grey blood dripping from his piece of lumber.

  “Pete, have you not used that before?” Peter was still frozen as Gareth mopped up the three downed feeders caving each of their skulls in until they moved or murmured no more.

  “Snap out of it.” Gareth gave Peter a bit of shake as he eyed around making sure they were alone.

  The car was his next priority, he could see the windscreen was damaged and the front passenger and side windows had been caved in, blood stained the remaining glass and paint work. The passenger was still in her seat belt but all the flesh above her waist had been consumed, barely any meat remained on the bones, a small patch of hair remained matted with blood. The driver had fared no better. The back seats had several black bags, and suitcases stacked up, a potential treasure trove. Gareth didn't waste any time and started ripping them open, desperate to discover what he'd won. The first bag yielded nothing more than a few cheap suits, a pair of well-used dress shoes, a collection of double cuff shirts, and a handful of polyester ties. Utter crap the lot. Gareth discarded it on the road, the next bag was full of equally useless women's clothes. Frustration was creeping in, these people were running for their lives and they packed cheap formal wear. The next bags had family pictures, a few trinkets and a few articles of clothing that, if in a larger size, may have fit Peter or Gareth. There wasn't anything useful here. Gareth pulled out a laptop and tossed it to the floor to join the rest of the rubbish, but a picnic cooler caught his eye. He hauled it out and placed it on the floor.

  “I hope you're hungry.” Peter stood over the cooler, eager to see what it would provide them. Gareth excitedly popped the top, and they both recoiled back in disgust. The foul stench was worse than a well fed feeder. Gareth was the first to look back inside. The contents of fruit, meat and sandwiches had fared badly, the cooler packs had lost their effectiveness some weeks prior.

  “Were they fleeing the dead or going for a fucking picnic?” Gareth had a point, these people were running from the dead and packed nothing of use.

  Peter started prodding through the cooler, removing the rotten produce and carefully picking out a few cans of Pepsi, two bars of chocolate and a few bags of crisps.

  “These should be all right, they're all sealed so a quick rinse and they should be fine.” It wasn't much, but it was something.

  “I did the work, you carry and clean it and you can have a can and a bag of crisps.” Gareth stated this as a fact to Peter, who couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. He decided to believe Gareth was joking.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  IT WASN'T MUCH of a modern home, but the old farmhouse was solid. The age of the tired building might actually help, a wood-fired stove, thick stone walls, small windows and plenty of space surrounding it. It was self-contained, defendable, had great visibility, and it was all they had.

  “We can stay here a night, two if we manage to gather some supplies.” Amy announced as they finished clearing the last room ensuring none of the feeders were present. Bo had already started searching for anything useful.

  “I thought all these country bumpkins were tooled up, there's got to be at least a single sodding cartridge in this gaff.” Bo carried on rummaging. A loud whistle emanated from downstairs.

  “Good news, we have tea. Who'd like a cuppa?” Babs was making herself at home in the kitchen.

  Amy beckoned the rest of the group in.

  “Don't get too comfortable, we might not be staying long.” She entered the kitchen and had a cup of tea shoved at her by Babs.

  “Sorry there wasn't any milk, but I popped in an extra sugar.” Amy took it gladly.

  “What's the food looking like?”

  “Lots in the fridge, it's all pretty rancid, but there may be some jars that are salvageable, a few random tins, some dried pasta and cereal. He liked his cornflakes. I've found three boxes.” Babs was proud of her finds, it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

  They hadn't investigated the surroundings, there were several cattle carcasses in one of the fields, but Amy had hopes of perhaps a few vegetables ready to harvest and maybe a free range chicken or two that had evaded being eaten alive. It would be dark soon, and as much as Amy wanted to take the comfy seat in the livingroom, finish her tea and have a nap, it wasn't on the cards. Too much to do. The group were exhausted and hungry, she needed to scout the area, but this group needed attention.

  “Babs, do you think you could put something together for everyone, leave something for tomorrow.” Babs nodded and looked confused at her available options.

  Amy wandered outside with the rifle firmly held in her arms. The farm was small, it looked like it had been a dairy farm but not of any size. The few mutilated cow carcasses she'd seen wouldn't fill a single milk float. A rabbit startled her as it ran across her path as she drew closer, Amy nearly blew its furry head off but steadied herself. Rabbits, at least there might be a meal or two. The outbuilding caught Amy's attention, it was in the far corner of the courtyard, maybe some tools or fuel. Amy fantasised about finding a few bags of grain, not that she'd know what to do with them. It was so peaceful, not a car or a plane, no phones ringing, chatters of a crowd. Just the wind and the odd bird tweeting. Maybe before this plague it would have been equally idyllic, a far cry from the streets of Croydon, but now it was blissful. The ground outside the building was stained red. Amy shouldered the rifle and surveyed the area. Three badly decomposed bodies lay outside the entrance, they were in bad shape but generally whole. A single hand lay amongs
t the bodies, but not belonging to any of them, their flesh was greying, but it was hard to know for sure if they were infected or just decomposing. Amy edged closer, the small door was open, another of the feeders lay across the threshold motionless, very much dead. Amy checked her rifle, suddenly unsure of herself and her ability to use this firearm. It felt heavy and cumbersome, despite its bull-pup design, long and unwieldy. Carefully she stepped over the body and peered inside. Dried blood stained the floor and surrounded two bodies, much of their flesh removed and bone showing. A double-barrelled shotgun placed between the two bodies, it was broken open and missing any shells, several empties lay on the floor uselessly spent buying the two poor souls a few extra minutes at best. The last stand of two desperate people with nowhere to go. Judging by the state of them, they probably fell victim early on, they probably didn't even know what was attacking them. The fear and confusion they must have felt, putting buckshot into a man who didn't stop coming. They had successfully dispatched four of the feeders, injured a few more, not bad having seen trained soldiers be far less effective. Not that it did them any good. The building wasn't as big as it had initially looked. A few tools hung on a wall, some would be useful, a hatchet or axe, but that was pretty much it. The shotgun would put a smile on Bo's face but it would need a good clean and he'd have to share a few of his precious cartridges.

  Amy left the building, it could all wait until morning, she allowed the rifle to hang from her shoulder as she walked back towards the farmhouse. She didn't see them, but they saw her. Their eyes watched from the safety of field, the grass had grown long with no cattle to feed on them. They sat back silently and waited. These are the first people they'd seen for a few days, they weren't about to rush in.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  IT NEVER HURT to be too cautious. They watched the farmhouse and the activity in and around it. They were people, mainly old or lame but definitely people and not the dead.

  “There's a policewoman, maybe it's an outpost?” Peter was squinting as he tried to identify the people ahead as they unknowingly went about their business.

  “More likely bait than an outpost. Look at them, half are pensioners, the other half are hardly the best and the brightest. I've seen two guns, not enough to see off more than a handful of those bastards.” Gareth was ready to give it a swerve. “They can't offer us anything, maybe a few scraps of food, but they'll be a liability at best, at worst they'll kill us for the gun.” Gareth slowly moved backwards expecting Peter to follow him. “Look, big groups are bigger trouble, if you want to introduce yourself, by all means, but I'm not coming with you.” Peter rose to his feet gingerly.

  “I will.” It was an uncharacteristic piece of bravery from Peter, he was sure it would pass soon, but not before he reached the new group.

  They were only a few hundred metres away, but he was tired, the ground uneven and overgrown. He concentrated on not breaking his ankle but wary that he didn't want to sneak up on these people and startle them into thinking he was a threat. He'd never been mistaken for a threat before and today seemed like it would be a bad time to reverse that trend. As he got closer two people emerged from the main farmhouse, unaware of his approach, Peter froze to the spot before thrusting his hands hard and fast in the air.

  Gareth watched from a safe distance. “Fucking moron.”

  “Excuse me, sorry.” Politeness again seemed appropriate. The two people were weary looking elderly men and he startled them. Without saying a word, they made their way back inside the farmhouse as quickly as their ageing bodies would allow them. Bo appeared brandishing his shotgun.

  “Can I help you pal?”

  This was a bad idea, what was he thinking? Peter pushed his hands even further in the air, hoping this old guy wouldn't shoot him.

  “I don't know, I'm, I'm human?” Well, of course he was a fucking human. Bo could see this guy was on the verge of wetting himself and not about to mount a tactical assault so lowered his gun.

  “Are you alone?”

  Peter hesitated, he didn't want to risk Gareth if these people weren't friendly. “

  Yes.” He lied.

  Bo sighed and lifted the shotgun again.

  “How many? Don't lie, you ain't very good at it.” Peter looked towards Gareth's location.

  “For fuck's sake.” Gareth ducked a little further down whilst maintaining a visual of the situation as Bo started looking in his direction.

  “Just the one, I promise.” Bo lowered his shotgun and tucked it under his arm before cupping his hands around his mouth

  “Do you want to join us or do you prefer to watch sweetheart?” He chuckled to himself as he moved a hand to his brow looking out for any movement.

  “Damn it.” Gareth stood up and held the shotgun above his head with both hands, he was strong but the weight was still uncomfortable.

  Bo signalled for him to approach and Gareth begrudgingly obliged. As he walked across the crooked ground, he cursed his misfortune of meeting Peter. Even if this group were friendly, they were useless. He would have to feed himself and them and they would offer nothing in return besides grumbles and stories he didn't care to listen too. Maybe he'd get lucky and this old boy with the shotgun would shoot him.

  “Place the shooter on the floor, don't be clever, I'm old but I've pulled this trigger a thousand times and I swear I'm faster than you'll be.” Gareth carefully placed the shotgun on the floor. “Where are you from, where are you going?” Amy emerged.

  “Bo, lower it. A little.” Bo obliged. “Names?” Peter and Gareth answered honestly.

  “Were you in the Chipstead camp?” It was possible, the camp was big, and many escaped, it was more likely than these two wandering the countryside unmolested by the dead.

  “We just met. I was in London and evacuated by two of yours to a rescue camp, before ending up in a smaller camp, they fell, they always do.” Amy turned to Peter.

  “I was in my house until a few days ago. Now I'm heading to the big camp in Southampton.” He said it as if everyone knew about the Southampton university camp and naturally heading there.

  “Sit down over there.” Gareth and Peter plopped down onto the grass as instructed.

  “Southampton?” Amy had heard of other camps and knew Southampton was important but not much more.

  “It's the last stand, well, the big one. Half he fucking queen's army are sat there shining their tanks and choppers. So was the rumour anyway.”

  “Is it worth heading there?”

  “Bollocks no. Those fucking hungry bastards didn't do for us, it was those with the guns and the tanks. Imagine that ten or twenty times bigger. We're better off here with the bloody odd squad.” Amy approached the captives.

  “What do you want?”

  “This daft one wants to get beaten up by a bunch of scared squaddies by the coast. I'm just surviving.” Amy looked them both up and down. They didn't seem like a threat, especially the shorter overweight one. The good-looking one she wasn't so sure about, but she could handle him, he was cocky and seemed to hold a high opinion of himself. He'd prove useful, another able-bodied adult under the age of seventy to carry some of the weight this group represented.

  “I can't say we're not in a bad shape, we have elderly, injured and we've been used to the safety of a big fence and big guns. Bo and myself aside, we're soft. We could use all the able-bodied adults we can find to help us, and we can help you.”

  No wonder she was a cop, this was a negotiation and straight away she laid out why she needed them and what was wrong with their group.

  “If we don't join you, you'll shoot us?” How far would she try to push them?

  “God no, you can fuck off for all I care. I'm not into killing anyone who didn't make me do it. You can go, or you can stay. If you stay, you must pull your weight.”

  “And that of a few others.” Gareth interrupted to show he knew they'd add value.

  “It's true, but ultimately, we'll be stronger together.”

  �
�With all due respect officer, but this group doesn't look like it'll provide me much more than several decoys I can outrun. I have him for that.” Gareth was only half joking.

  “We could stay a few days, rest up and lend a hand.” Peter was tired, but more than that he hoped he could persuade this group to travel with him to Southampton. He was getting used to having company and didn't want to give it up. Gareth let out a deep and exaggerated sigh.

  “We'll stay a night, we'll help you out and then we're off.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  IT HAD BEEN a productive few days, the farm had been easy to fortify. The old stone walls that around the farmhouse and the surrounding land were thick and sturdy, any gaps were easy enough to fill with debris or makeshift defences. Gareth despite his protests, was a hard and able worker, Peter was enthusiastic but his talents really weren’t well suited to manual labour. The food in the cupboards was sparse, any cattle long since devoured, but there was a vegetable patch of a decent size that had some edible produce. The elderly may have not been able to batter a feeder to death, but those vegetables had never been treated so well. Bo had created a few rabbit snares but so far they hadn’t supplied a single bunny for the pot. They were all losing weight and energy levels dipped as tempers rose.

  Gareth and Amy walked the field towards the farmhouse returning from their first supply run to a neighbouring farm.

  “We got lucky, but they’ll be busts now, you know that, right? There are more of those things and less food. We can't feed everyone for long.” Gareth's patience had all but run out, Peter had tried to persuade him to stay and if it was just down to those feeble arguments, he'd have gone after that first night. He wanted to have a crack at Amy. She was beautiful, physically in great shape and best of all she didn't want to eat him. It had been several weeks before the outbreak since he'd gotten laid, and Amy was his best bet outside of one of the pensioners. He stuck around, worked hard and been useful. He'd given her the full charm offensive but so far she had resisted it, he thought he had seen her eyeing him up and sure she wasn't a dyke so had hoped it was only a matter of time. His patience was wearing thin, and he'd already decided he'd spend one more night then leave. He’d take some supplies, the rifle if he could or some extra shotgun shells if that was easier. Peter could stay, there wasn't any point in asking him as all he'd do fuck things up.