Breeding Ground

by Sarah Pinborough

  The dark green curtains were pulled across the windows all along the far wall creating an empty, false dusk, only occasional shafts of light from the gaps hitting dusty tables, some still littered with dirty ashtrays, and one with a glass, an inch of beer stale in its base. Multicoloured lights from the machines flashed at me, teasing and tempting any potential customer to part with his money in an attempt to win the elusive jackpot. It was going to be waiting a long time.

  For a moment I had a glimpse of that machine blazing away for decades until its parts slowly gave out, grinding down to stop, waiting so patiently in vain for someone to play with it. I shivered, and moved on. This was no time for chilling imaginings; there was enough in the here and now, right above my head, to keep my imagination and fear fully engaged. Looking around at the abandoned pub, I figured that although the landlord may have locked the doors, he certainly didn’t have his mind on the job last night. The drip trays were dirty beneath the pumps, and dishes of drying sliced lemon still sat on the sides. I felt as if I’d stepped onto a ghost ship.

  Thankfully, there were less of the shimmering strands in the bar, although sludge covered most of the bottles against the mirrored back walls next to the till. Making sure I didn’t touch it, I crouched down to duck beneath one thick thread that had spread like a creeper of ivy in through the door. I heard my knee click and cursed as I pushed myself up from the squat, my thighs aching slightly. Something told me that if I was going to survive for long, I was going have to have to get fitter. And quickly. It didn’t help that the tension had my muscles wound so tight that they felt they were going to snap. The knife safely in my grasp, I could have tried cutting through the strands, but something stopped me; I was shit-scared of what would happen if I did. What the hell did I know about these new nightmarish creatures? What if there was some kind of sensory link between this sticky web-like substance and its creator, who was probably only a few feet above my head somewhere? I didn’t have any intention of finding out; unless I had no choice that was something I was going to avoid.

  Letting my breath out slowly, I moved onwards. The pub had originally been divided into two completely separate rooms, and although several years before it had been opened up to become one large one, the serving area still had a dividing wall with an archway running between them. It was on the other side of this arch that the key hooks were, nailed into the wall. Only a few feet away, it seemed to be taking me forever to reach it, my heart thumping and my mouth dry. If one of the widows chose now to come downstairs, then there was no way I would make it back to the door. I’d be cut off from the others, trapped. And I wouldn’t blame them for not sticking around to help.

  The thought spurred me on and I took three long strides to reach the arch. Peering round, I was relieved to see this part of the pub lounge as empty as the rest, no creature ready to pounce on me, nor any cocooned half-alive helpless people; just a sea of chairs and tables dozing in the stale air behind bar stools that wouldn’t be filled this lunchtime, or any time in the foreseeable future.

  Keeping my body in the archway, I twisted to see the hooks and my heart leapt, a small hiss of air escaping me. There was one set of car keys hanging alone, the metal key ring declaring it an Animal. That was our baby. Less cautious now, eager to get away, I grabbed them, ignoring the metal jangling they made as they tried to cling to the hook rather than my sweaty fingers, wrenching them free from the wall as I turned back. Ducking under the creeping strand, my joints feeling more flexible this time, something caught the corner of my eye.

  “Fuck it.” I muttered under my breath, and thrusting the Mitsubishi keys into my pocket, pulled forty Benson and Hedges from the narrow stacked shelf above the till. After a moments hesitation I grabbed another pack, and also the dated eighties-style Harley Davidson Zippo lighter resting on top of an open packet of Sovereign. That strange rebellious exhilaration that only smokers know overtook me, and for a brief moment I almost smiled, as if by voluntarily screwing with my health, I was somehow screwing with the order of this new and unpleasant world, giving the widows the universally acknowledged victory salute with attitude. And anyway, this was no time to be an ex-smoker.

  Reaching the doorway, relieved to be getting out, I grinned at Katie as she came into view. Before I could speak, she raised an arm, and I froze where I was. Her eyes were staring up the stairs at something I couldn’t see.

  “Katie?” My voice was low, but the urgency in it was obvious. “What is it?”

  “Move very slowly and come behind me.” She still kept her eyes locked on their frustratingly-out-of-my-view target. “Keep your head down and don’t speak.”

  Biting back my questions, I did as I was told, and taking as tiny and as smooth steps as I could, stared at the stained and grimy floor beneath me, and slid out into the corridor behind Katie’s arm. From somewhere above me came a wet, angry hissing sound, and I fought the urge to run as the open back door got closer, glimpsing Jane waiting outside in the sunshine, her fearful expression no doubt a reflection of mine.

  “Go and open the car and get Jane in. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Unable to resist, and needing to know just what the fuck was going on, I threw a quick glance over my shoulder while the top of the stairs were still in sight. I couldn’t help but shudder. Half a widow was curved round the top banister, its bank of pinprick red eyes glowing angrily as it hissed, long spindly legs pawing at the dull carpet, whatever substance that flowed through its veins almost visible through their revolting milky surface. Its mouth, its two mouths, if they could be called that, clacked wetly as the two sets of mandibles mashed into each other.

  Jesus, it seemed so full of hate, so ready to attack, except that something was stopping it, and that something was Katie. How the fuck was she doing that?

  “I said go!” her voice growled at me, and I didn’t need asking twice, no matter how fucking strange all this was. Dumping the cigarettes on the enormous black bonnet, I groped in my pocket for the key, pressing the unlock button before I’d even wrenched them free.

  “Get in!” Yanking the back door open, I pushed Jane inside before grabbing the Bensons and getting in the driver’s side. The key slid into the slot and the beast of an engine roared to life.

  “Come on, Katie. Come on.” The seconds seemed to be ticking by too slowly, and I couldn’t see her from where we sat. Pushing the gear stick into reverse, I turned the truck, ready to pull out of the car park.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Jane sounded so much younger than her years, her fragile voice like glass.

  “Sure she is, honey. Sure she is.” I hoped so. I really hoped so. Ripping open the packet, I thrust a cigarette into my mouth and lit it, sucking in a choking lungful of poisonous smoke and chucking the rest on the vast expanse of dashboard. My head swam as I resisted the urge to both cough and throw up, the nicotine speeding through my capillaries, and I opened the electric window slightly. God, I’d forgotten how shit cigarette smoke tasted. I could only hope it would improve with practice because I sure as hell was intending to practice.

  “There she is!” Jane squealed into my ear as she leapt forward in her seat behind me. “There she is!”

  My heart skipped a beat as Katie appeared from the doorway and pulled it shut before jogging round to the front passenger side of the Mitsubishi and climbing in. She stared at me for a second before reaching for a cigarette of her own.

  “What are you waiting for? Fucking drive!” The lighter shook in her tiny hands, and it wasn’t from the movement of the car as I pulled out onto the deserted road. I gave it a couple of seconds while she took a first stress-relieving pull and leaned back in her seat to exhale in a sigh before I spoke. Maybe she’d bite my head off, but I needed to talk about it. To find out just exactly what had happened while I was getting the keys.

  “So how long had that widow been there? I thought we’d agreed you’d scream if you saw anything, not take it on head to head.” I was hoping that my light tone would co
ax her into conversation, but when she answered there was a definite defensive edge.

  “It came round the top of the landing pretty much straight away. I didn’t scream because I was too damn scared.” She didn’t look at me but turned her face away and stared out of the window. “I would have yelled if it had started coming down the stairs, but when it saw me it stopped. And then I was too scared to move, take my eyes off it or anything.”

  “How weird it didn’t attack. I can’t believe it let us go like that.”

  “Maybe it just wasn’t hungry.”

  I didn’t miss the sharp snap in her reply.

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Neither of us believed that lack of hunger had anything to do with it, both aware that the widows were more likely to stockpile their food, but she didn’t need me pointing it out. I pulled down the visor to block out the glare of the hazy afternoon.

  “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.” She glared at me. “And I don’t want you telling the others about it, either.”

  “No problem. I won’t tell a soul.”

  She was obviously scared and confused by the experience, and I could understand her wariness of someone like Nigel hearing about it, but when she’d calmed down I’d try broaching the subject again. If she could ward the widows off, then that was something we all needed to know to use against them. Still, insensitive man or not, even I could tell this wasn’t the time for that conversation.

  Jane giggled behind us. “Have you seen Doctor Who? It’s an old sci-fi series. I’ve been watching it on Bravo.”

  I nodded sagely into the rearview mirror, suddenly feeling my age as memories of hiding behind a cushion on my parents’ sofa awoke behind my eyes. “Yes, thanks. I remember it the first time round.”

  “Well, maybe the widows are like the Daleks. They can’t get down stairs.”

  I smiled slightly at the ludicrous idea, and when I looked at Katie I was pleased to see that colour was returning to her cheeks and some of those dark clouds had cleared in her eyes.

  “Actually, young lady, the Daleks couldn’t climb stairs. They were always left at the bottom while the doctor and his lovely lady assistant escaped upwards.”

  Jane sighed. “Well, logic would dictate that if they couldn’t get up the stairs, then they couldn’t very well get back down them, could they?” There was a slight pause before she hit me with her final shot. “Geek.”

  It was enough to make us all laugh, and I wanted to turn round and kiss the girl for easing the tension, even if it was only slightly.

  We pulled up at the roundabout, and even though we were well before the agreed time, it seemed that everyone else had been lucky finding four-wheel drives, because there were two Range Rovers parked up on the road. Stepping out, I was pleased to find everyone alive and well, if a little sombre.

  “TVs are still off. We tried a couple and the radio in the car. Seems like we’re on our own for now.” Dave was leaning against the brown bonnet of one Range Rover and Katie had gone to stand next to John, where she offered him a cigarette. My heart sank slightly. I must have blown my chances. I tried to convince myself that that wasn’t such a bad thing, but I couldn’t fight the pang of loneliness that hit my stomach, all mixed up with Chloe and the mad new world. I needed to get away from here. It was time to leave home.

  “Let’s go then. City Centre?”

  George handed me a sheet of paper.

  “I took the liberty of making up a short list of things we might need. I thought perhaps that you, Nigel and Dave could go and see if you can track down these items, and the ladies, John and myself will take on the food halls. Drive round and meet us there when you’ve finished. What do you think?”

  “I think that sounds fine.” I glanced over at Katie, but she was already climbing into a car next to John. Jane turned and waved at me with a big grin before she scrambled in, too. I grinned and waved back. At least someone still liked me.

  Turning back, I saw that Nigel had taken the front passenger seat. “So, are we going or what?”

  Dave raised an eyebrow at me as he got in and I could see that Mr. Phelps was going to be the weak link in our chain. There was something about him that just rubbed you the wrong way, and I wondered if that had been the case in his life before today. Turning the engine back on, I decided it probably was. You could bet he was the know all bloke in the pub who just joined in conversations and never realised that his company wasn’t wanted because he was too thick-skinned to read the signals.

  “And drive carefully. The last thing we need is an accident.”

  I bit my lip. “Of course I will. Although I doubt we’re going to have to worry much about oncoming traffic.” Turning my head I tried smiling at him, but he was scowling out the window, patches of sweat oozing down his shirt sides and onto the leather of the seat. What had pissed him off, I didn’t know, but I hoped he’d get over it. We didn’t need any rows. We all needed each other whether we liked it or not.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It had to be said that George’s list was pretty comprehensive; sleeping bags, camping gas, outdoor clothing, rucksacks, wire cutters and tin openers for a start. At the bottom he’d added in a small note not to forget anything we could think of that would work as weapons. Old he may have been, but I was glad we had him.

  We parked up at the top of the T-shaped shopping complex and pushed through the swing doors into the glass and marble vastness. At least there weren’t too many houses on this side of the centre, but we all glanced round warily. We hadn’t discussed each other’s experiences of getting the cars, but I could bet they’d both seen plenty more evidence of the widows. Not that Nigel had needed it. He knew all about them firsthand, just like me. Still, I found it hard to find any sympathy for him and was slightly self-disgusted, but that didn’t change the way I felt.

  I shivered in the chill of the air-conditioned emptiness and we padded forward towards John Lewis. The huge store was likely to have pretty much everything we’d need, and if it didn’t we’d start exploring further.

  “This is too strange. I’ve never seen this place empty.” Dave wasn’t whispering, but as soon as his first words started to echo around us, he lowered his voice to an almost reverential hushed tone.

  I knew what he meant. Tesco’s had been weird, but this was definitely worse. The Milton Keynes Shopping Centre had been the first of its kind in England, a mammoth construction of glass, marble and stainless steel that had been added to as the years passed, its huge walkways filled with every branded shop you could imagine, and a selection of individual boutiques and small stalls of jewellery, ice cream, cookies and frozen yoghurt. People came here in coach loads, and even during weekdays it was always busy. Christmas was a nightmare, but every day was busy. Until today. Today it had become a giant empty mausoleum. We were like ghosts walking amongst the ruins of a past civilisation, and for another brief second I felt a shiver of nausea as the reality of it all once again took hold and the world shimmered too brightly.

  Nigel sniffed. “In some ways, this is the best I’ve ever seen it. No kids tripping you up anywhere and mums getting in the way with their damn pushchairs and screaming brats. I never could stand it up here.”

  “You’re something else, aren’t you?” Dave shook his head in disgust, and stepping a little away from them, my heartbeat quickened slightly. Nigel had better watch himself. Dave may have been older, but I’d have bet he was in better shape and knew how to handle himself.

  “Doesn’t this bother you at all?” He snarled at the other man, who ducked his greasy head. “The place is fucking deserted. There is no one fucking left but us. Everyone is dead or worse. Don’t you get it?”

  The echo added to the ferocity of his attack and Nigel glanced up at me for support, his confidence gone and his chin wobbly. “Everyone has their own way of coping.” He whined, his wide red-rimmed eyes shaking slightly, “You were lucky, Dave. You didn’t have to go through what Matt and I did. A thing like that changes a man. Doesn’t it,
Matt? You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  Keeping my gaze forward, I didn’t answer. I didn’t like him trying to pull me in as an ally in his little battle with himself and the rest of us. He was nothing like me, and I hoped that whatever happened I would never be anything like him. As it was, something else caught my eye.

  “Hey, Dave, it seems we’re not the only ones left, after all. Someone else has been here.”

  The closer we got to the large front of the store, the clearer the thick sheets of broken glass that covered the ground in front of it were, and we jogged the final few metres, Nigel panting a few steps behind. A large television lay in the window display. Dave whistled as he surveyed the scene.

  “Well, well, well. Someone’s saved us a job, anyway.” He grinned at me. “Maybe they’re still here. They could join up with us. Safety in numbers. Yeah, that’d be good.”

  I smiled back at him, my own spirits rising. It was good to know that we weren’t alone in this desolation. That there were other people out there determined to survive.

  “I suggest we go cautiously. We don’t know what they’re like. They might be dangerous.” Nigel had quickly regained some pomposity, but this time Dave didn’t bite, and just ignored him. It was all he deserved. I sure as hell didn’t want to speak to him. No wonder the world had got itself into this state with people like him filling it with paranoia and suspicion. Nigel looked put out by our lack of response but didn’t say any more, and instead just hung back and muttered something to himself as we made our way into the store.

  “Hello?” Dave called out into the vast expanse of perfume and makeup counters. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

  He called again as we moved further inside to the central block, where the escalators and lifts were, but no one called back. Middle age seemed to sink back into Dave’s features and I gripped his shoulder.