“Put your shoes back on,” I say, placing the knife on the bedside cabinet, and then slipping my feet back into my boots.
“Why?” Josh asks. “I thought we were going to bed.”
“Just in case we have to leave in a hurry.”
“Okay,” he replies, putting his tiny shoes on, his sister doing the same.
“Is this your parents’ bedroom?” I ask, eyes examining the room.
“They’re not our parents,” Amelia corrects me, with a slight bitterness in a tone.
“Sorry. I’m meant your foster parents.”
She nods. “Yeah. We’re never allowed in here. They have a key for pretty much all the rooms.”
“Why’s that?”
“They don’t trust us.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t know us.”
“So how long have you been with this family?”
“About ten months.”
“Oh, right. Not that long then.”
Amelia shakes her head. “No. We’ve been in foster care since Josh was a baby. Michael and Juliet were our eighth family.”
“Eighth? Really?”
“Yeah. Social services wanted to keep us together. So it’s been hard to find a family that wants two kids. We’ve had to move around a lot. But it’s fine. You get used to it.”
“I bet you do. So what happened to your parents?”
“Mum died of an overdose just after Josh was born. And Dad? Well…who knows. Haven’t seen him in years. Last thing I heard he was living in Scotland with his new family.”
“I’m sorry.”
Amelia shrugs her shoulders, dropping the ends of her lips as if it’s no big deal. “Doesn’t bother us. We don’t need him.” She turns to her brother, taking his hand. “Do we, Josh? We don’t need anyone. We’re better off on our own.”
“You’re right, you have each other. Must be pretty cool having a brother or a sister.”
“Don’t you have one?” Josh asks.
“No. Just little-old-me. I always wanted one, though. I was always jealous of my school friends. Having someone to talk to, to look out for.”
“What about your Mum and Dad?” Amelia asks. “Couldn’t you talk to them?”
“Yeah. I suppose. But it’s not the same. Like my Dad, for instance: he’s always wanted me to go to university, get a normal job. He thought that me wanting to be a Cleaner was a dumb idea, something only men should do. Even as a little girl, all I could think about was being a Cleaner. I thought it would be the coolest job on the planet.”
“Isn’t it?” Amelia asks. “Shooting zombies all day? Sounds like fun to me.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. You see some horrible things. Like you’ve both seen already. And it’s dangerous. I lost a friend today.”
“What happened?” Josh asks.
“He got bitten.”
“Did he turn?” Amelia asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”
“That’s awful,” she says, putting her hand over mine. “I’m sorry you lost your friend. What was his name?”
“Andrew. Andrew Whitt,” I reply, struggling to stop myself from welling up again. “But you’re safe with me. You don’t have to worry.”
For the first time I see a tiny smile on Amelia’s lips, softening that hard-ass exterior. “So how long have you been a Cleaner?” she asks.
I pause for a moment, before answering. Do I tell the truth, that this is only my second day on the job? No, I can’t. It’ll scare the hell out of them. Can’t have them panicking. Especially the boy. It’s too risky.
So I’ll lie.
“I’ve been a Cleaner for about two years.”
“So is this the worst outbreak you’ve had so far?” Josh asks me, leaning over his sister to look at me, his eyes wide with obvious worry.
“No. This is nothing.” More bloody lies. “We’ve had a lot worse outbreaks than this. We’re just a little understaffed. That’s all. Nothing for you to worry about. This will all be sorted by the morning. You’ll see.”
He nods and then lies back on the bed, his head pressed against the white pillow. “What will happen to them?”
“To who?” I ask, frowning in confusion.
“Michael and Juliet. What will happen to them when your friends come to save us?”
I can’t help but stutter as I think of a more child-friendly way to say that they’ll be sent to a furnace—and cremated to cinders.
“They get burnt, Josh,” Amelia answers for me, her tone harsh, straight to the point.
“Really?” he asks with raised eyebrows.
“Yep,” she continues. “Everyone who’s infected gets burnt. The dead can’t be killed. It’s the only real way to get rid of them.”
“What if I was bitten? Would they burn me too?”
Amelia nods. “Well…yeah. But I won’t let that happen. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.”
“You promise?”
She leans over her brother and kisses him on the cheek. “I promise.” She then crawls beside him, pulling him in close for a hug.
Poor girl. She’s probably had to grow up so fast; had to be a mother to him, trying to keep him safe.
Well now it’s my job. And I won’t let them down.
I smile at the siblings, as they lie there on the bed, almost oblivious to the danger that lurks outside. Maybe I should just be straight with them. Lay my cards on the table. Give them the honest truth—that I’m in way over my head—and know Jack shit about being a Cleaner.
After a few minutes, I get up and walk up to the window. Pulling open the curtains an inch or two, I peer down onto the street. Seems quiet. Can’t see any Necs. Maybe things aren’t as bad as I thought. Maybe the other Cleaners have got it under control. Moving over to the other side of the window, something catches my eye. Just down the street a little, I see a front door hanging wide open. A man comes running out. Then a woman. The man trips up on the pavement and crashes down on the road, facedown. The woman staggers towards his motionless body and mounts him. I wince when I see her tear off his ear with her bare teeth. Then another woman comes sprinting up the street, and starts biting into his hand, ripping off most of his fingers in one wrench. I let the curtain go in disgust and return to the edge of the bed.
“Can I put the TV on, Cath?” Josh whispers.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, buddy. It’s too risky.”
“I’ll keep the sound down. I promise.”
“It’s not just the sound. They’ll see the flickering lights from the window.”
“Okay, Cath. But what are we meant to do then?”
“Nothing we can do, other than wait.”
“Can’t we play a game?”
Amelia shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Josh. We can’t play a game. We have to be quiet.”
“We can play a quiet game,” he offers, his young voice crammed with enthusiasm.
“Just try to get some sleep,” Amelia suggests. “We can play games when this is all over.”
“But it’s still early.”
“Tough.”
“Suppose we could play a game,” I say, still mulling it over. “Might distract us.”
“Yes!” Josh blurts out loudly.
Amelia and I both shush him simultaneously.
He bites down on his lower lip and then mouths the word: sorry.
I smile, almost forgetting about the horrors of today; the headless monster in the garden. Andrew. “Okay, Josh, what game do you want to play?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I dunno.”
Amelia tuts. “I thought you had a game in mind.”
“No. I only know hide and seek, snakes and ladders, and PlayStation games.”
“You’ve never played games with your friends?” I ask. “Maybe on a sleepover, or camping?”
“Never had a sleepover. Or stayed in a tent.”
“Oh, right. So what kinds of things are you in
to?”
“Spider-Man, of course,” he replies, holding up his Spider-Man soft toy, excitement in his voice, in his eyes.
“Well then, you’re in luck, because I just so happen to be the world’s biggest Wall-Crawler fan. And I’m about to kick both your butts in a game of superhero facts.”
Josh chuckles. “In your dreams. There’s nothing that I don’t know about him. Bring it on!”
“Okay then,” I say, “what was the name of Peter Parker’s uncle?”
“Huh, that’s too easy,” Josh replies, smugly. “Uncle Ben of course. My turn! My turn!”
“Okay,” I say, holding my hand out to silence him, “but you need to whisper.”
“Sorry, Cath.”
“It’s all right, buddy. What was your question?”
“What’s the name of The Green Goblin’s son?” Josh asks.
“Too easy,” I reply, a big arrogant grin spread across my face. “Harry Osborne.”
“Yeah, that was too easy. Your turn, Sis.”
Amelia shakes her head. “I don’t want to play.”
“We can play something else if you want,” I suggest. “Something to suit us all.”
“No. I don’t want to play any games,” Amelia replies. “I just want to go to sleep.”
“That’s fine if you’re tired,” I say. “We’ll try to be quiet.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Then why go to sleep then?” Josh asks. “It’s still early.”
Amelia gets off the bed, lifts the quilt and climbs under, lying on her side, facing away from her brother. “I just want morning to come quicker.”
“Are you mad with me, sis?”
“No. Of course I’m not,” she replies, lifting her head up and turning to look at him.
“Then play a game with us then.”
“No. I think it’s best if we get some sleep. Wait for the real help to get here.”
“But Cath is the real help. She’s come here to save us.”
“No, she hasn’t. She almost got killed outside, and she doesn’t even have a gun.”
“Look, Amelia,” I say, tempted to tell her that she’s completely right, that I’m not the real help. “We don’t need a gun. As long as we all stay together and stay locked up in the house, nothing bad will happen. Help is coming. We just need to be a little patient. But you’re right; maybe you should get some sleep. Both of you. “
“What about you?” Josh asks.
“I need to stay awake. Keep you safe. It’s my job.”
He smiles. “Okay, Cath. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, buddy.”
“What if we need to use the toilet,” Josh asks, “in the middle of the night?”
“I’ll take you,” I offer. “But we need to keep that door locked at all costs. Just in case.”
“Okay, Cath.”
“Do you need to go right now?”
Josh shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Just wanted to check.”
“Okay, buddy. Try to get some sleep now.”
He nods and smiles. “Goodnight.”
I return a smile. “Goodnight, little man.”
He climbs under the quilt, snuggles up to his sister, and then closes his eyes. I crawl up the bed next to him, prop up a pillow against the headboard, and sit back. Even though I feel emotionally drained of all life, all energy, sleep seems impossible at the moment. It’s too early and I have too many thoughts racing through my head. Wish I had a good novel to occupy my mind. Something funny. Without bloodshed. Without death. Anything to take me away from here; away from the isolation, the horror, the guilt of losing Andrew.
Can’t believe he’s gone. Didn’t even get a chance to get to know him, have a drink with him. But with everything I went through, all the emotional stress, the training, the farmhouse, somehow it feels like I’ve known the guy for years. He looked out for me. Stuck up for me.
The only one who did.
I look down at Josh, next to his sister, still clutching Spider-man. Never seen siblings behave like these two—so close. Normally brothers and sisters are at each other’s throats, bickering, complaining about eating habits, sharing things. I’d love a little brother or sister. Someone to look out for, to pass down little nuggets of life lessons, tips, things to avoid.
Necs being top on the list.
17
I glance at my watch. 8:34 p.m.
I’m bursting for a pee. Didn’t think it would be something to worry about. But it is, and it’s very annoying. I should have gone before I locked the door. We all should have. I scan the bedroom, looking for something to pee in. Can’t see anything obvious, like a large bowl or a bucket. I’m not squatting over a bloody bucket. Not just yet, anyway. I can hold it until morning. It’s just mind over matter—mental discipline. My bladder is big enough. It’s not going to explode.
I’ll just have to avoid thoughts of water, dripping taps, and rainy days. I’ll just have to focus on what happens next—what the plan of attack is. I mean, how long is everyone expected to wait until help shows up? A day? Two days? A bloody week? That’s not right. And if all the Cleaners have been wiped out, what then? The police? The Army? Cleaners from other parts of the UK? Someone will have to step up. They can’t just let everyone fend for themselves. There’re too many infected.
This is so screwed up.
I check the bedside cabinet for a telephone. There isn’t one. I should have called Mum and Dad when I had the chance, told them that I’m all right, that everything is going to be fine. That I love them more than anything in the world. Even more than becoming a bloody Cleaner!
It’s probably best that I don’t speak to them. No point worrying them. If they found out what had happened, where I was, they’d be at the barricade, Dad in his 4x4, ready to ram the wall. No, best not to think about them. This’ll all be over by morning. The kids will be fine; their foster parents will be dealt with and I can go home, back to my family. Back to the real world of nights in, watching TV, and nights out with the girls, enduring drunken guys, slobbering over anything with a pulse. Instead of having to deal with an army of cannibals that don’t even have a bloody pulse!
I feel so helpless, just lying here, waiting for the coast to clear. Never thought my day would end like this. I had so many high hopes about this job, being out there, making a difference, saving the world from the undead—not holed up in a bedroom, waiting for a big strong man to come and rescue me. Pathetic.
Really need a pee.
Can’t hold it much longer. Staying awake is going to be hard enough without the added discomfort. I’ll have to go. Grabbing the knife from the bedside cabinet, I creep off the bed, biting my bottom lip as I try to avoid waking them. That’s if they are actually asleep. Haven’t heard a peep out of them in a while. The floorboards squeak as the weight of my boots press into the carpet. Wincing, I turn to the kids—no change. Josh is still cuddled up to his sister, and Amelia is still facing the other way. At the door, I twist the key and then slowly pull the handle. The door hinges whine even louder than the floor, but it doesn’t disturb them. They both must be so weary, all that stress and adrenaline. Decapitating that man.
Poor things.
My heart rate increases when I step out onto the landing. I half-expect the foster parents to be standing in front of me, or that Nec from the garden, his severed head under his arm. Hand shaking with the knife pointed, I slink across the landing and into the bathroom. In the darkness, with the door wide open, I unzip my suit, pull it down to my ankles and sit on the toilet. I close my eyes in relief as my bladder empties. Don’t think I could have held out all night. The noise of urine hitting the water in the bowl is too loud. Should have put some paper down to absorb the sound. Too late now, I’m in full-flow. Nearly done anyway. When I’m finished, I have to stop myself, just inches from pressing down on the toilet flush.
If flushing the toilet got me killed, then I’d deserve everything I got.
Back on the landing, outsid
e the bedroom, I push the door open, fighting off the urge to go back downstairs and into the kitchen, just to ring HQ again. Maybe some of the guys made it back to Ammanford, and they’re waiting for me to report back.
Yeah, in your dreams, Cath.
When I open the bedroom door and step inside, my grip on the knife tightens in fright when I see Amelia standing in the darkness.
“Jesus, Amelia,” I almost yell, holding a hand over my chest, “you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Where were you?” she whispers, her tone ice-cold.
I close the door behind me and lock it. “I just needed to use the toilet.”
“You left us.”
“No, I didn’t. I was only gone a minute.”
“If you want to go, just go. We don’t need your help.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to help you.”
“No, you’re not. You never meant to be in our garden. You said yourself you were chased.”
“I know that. But I’m only in Crandale to help. This isn’t even where I normally work. Bristol needed extra help, so we came. To help.”
Amelia sits on the bed, quiet for a moment. But then the silence turns to tears. Quickly putting the knife back in the bedside cabinet, I rush over to her side, arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry,” I say, in the most motherly voice I can muster up. It feels unfamiliar to me. “Everything’s gonna be all right. You’ll see.”
She shakes her head. “No, it won’t be. It never is.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because nothing ever works out for us.”
I pull her closer to me. “Life is sometimes horrible and unfair. But, as long as there is breath in my lungs, I’ll keep those monsters away.”
“How the hell can you? You’re just one person—without a gun.”
“You’re right,” I reply. “I may have lost my gun, and my partner, but we’re gonna get through this by working together. And you and your brother will be all right. No matter what. Okay?”
Burn The Dead Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 28