by T. A. Sorsby
‘A good one. I’m not averse to drinking before noon right now.’ I agreed.
We tried to make small talk, tried to forget what it was we were carrying, but it was no good. We switched a couple times when we had to have a rest, taking it in turns to go backwards. Eventually Neville put his back to the door at the bottom of the stairwell and pushed the bar to open it into the foyer.
We had to set her down over a few chairs while we went to look around Stan’s ground floor apartment, poking about while we got our breath back, massaging some life back into sore arms.
His was kind of like everyone else’s place, but a bit bigger, and clearly for a bachelor. I hadn’t seen such an impressive collage of centrefolds on a living room wall since Jason and Will’s first student house, when I was first visiting up from Dent. I checked my phone, just in case they, or anyone else, had got through to me.
No missed calls, no texts, no signal. Jason would be somewhere in sunny, plague-torn Redmond with the VBC, while Will had an apartment in a tower block too, over on the other side of the city. I’d been there a couple times, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure how to get there. Because of work, my sense of direction about town is usually second to none, but that area wasn’t on my rounds often, so I usually cheated with a sat-nav when I had to go there.
Was it worth trying to save him too? Or was that too much? Too far? Too risky? Both Katy and the reporter had told us to stay put. I could ignore their warnings for Katy’s sake, and stand by my neighbours as they went for their loved ones, but that was it. With any luck, Will would be able to take care of himself – his apartment building was just like ours, so it wasn’t like I’d be brining him anywhere safer. Just dragging everyone across town for no reason.
‘In here.’ Neville said, reminding me of the task at hand.
He’d found a door off Stan’s kitchen that led to a sort of walk-in closet for DIY enthusiasts. Hammers, wrenches, boxes of nails, drills, locks, a rather tall folding ladder – all kinds of landlordly stuff was neatly arranged on the shelves, with a pair of shovels and an electric lawnmower shoved into a corner. I guess he didn’t do much gardening. I grabbed the shovels while Neville rifled through Stan’s kitchen cupboards.
‘Forgot the shopping this week?’ I asked.
‘Stan’s got to have a first aid kit somewhere, we might need it. Not for Rosie, mind. Think she’s a bit beyond plasters and icy-hot.’
He found it, a green tin case only a little bigger than a lunchbox. I doubted anything in there would do much good for a zombie bite, but it might not just be zombies we’d find out there. Living rioters could be driving about, taking advantage of the lack of law and order, or maybe one of us would just trip up and cut ourselves on broken glass. Better prepared.
He left it on the reception desk while we carried Rosie outside. I returned for the shovels while he found a good spot; a nice place under the shade of a big old tree – oak maybe? I’m no woodsman. It looked like it’d be a nice patch to sit down on in summer, maybe have a picnic. I think they’d have liked that.
The green-space that formed the miniature park around the apartments was nothing major. A place to walk a lazy dog, somewhere for local kids to have a sneaky cider after dark, that kind of thing. The walkers always picked up their pet’s droppings and the kids put their bottles in the bins, so it wasn’t the worst place to bury somebody.
There was a tiny artificial pond not too far from where we’d chosen to dig, ringed with pebbles and small stones. I grabbed a handful so we’d have something to mark the graves with.
It was pretty nice outside, sunny but not too bright, breezy, a definite chill in the wind, but not enough for scarves, gloves and bobble hats. Probably one of the last good days before winter set in properly. It would have been a pretty nice day, if not for the dead friends.
*
Nine
I never thought of it before, digging a grave. You have to sort of get a general idea of where you’re going, how big it’s going to be, how deep. I’d like to have just gotten on with it, but we had to talk to eyeball the measurements.
Once the macabre mathematics was out of the way with, we broke ground. I didn’t count the time it took, I tried not to think about it. I just…I just let time go by. With our arms sore from carrying her down stairs we weren’t going to dig deep, just enough. After a while, Damian and Lucile came to us, carrying Edgar’s wrapped up body, Morgan trailing behind them.
Sweating, we leaned our shovels against the tree, and lowered Rosie into the grave, while Damian and Lucile eased Edgar down next to her. The grave was only a foot or so deep, and just wide enough to get them both in side by side.
Neither of them tried to get up again, but nobody looked comfortable by the graveside. Morgan was staring at the two wrapped bodies, not really seeing them. She was seeing the nice old couple from next door.
I looked at her for a few seconds, and tried to fix that look on her face into my mind, turn it into a weapon against my fear, a reminder that I had to be strong – that we had to be strong. I wouldn’t let her lose hope, not like the Jamesons did.
‘Anyone want to say a few words?’ I asked, dragging my eyes back into the grave.
There was silence.
‘I didn’t know them too well.’ I said, reluctantly. ‘But I knew them long enough to tell they were good people. Right now we don’t have any idea what the world’s like outside of this city, and we’ve only got one woman’s word for what it’s like inside it.
‘Edgar and Rosie didn’t know what life was going to be like anymore. Neither do I. Can’t make any promises that we’re going to be able to bring our friends, our families, back here to safety. But I can promise that I’m going to try. I’m not just going to give up, I don’t care how bad it is our there. I wonder how many people did the same as them? Took their own lives, gave up. I’ll always remember them…
‘But I wish they hadn’t done it.’ I sighed, taking up my shovel again. Neville picked his up too. ‘Let’s just hope that we find our people before they go the same way. Or worse.’
I’m not one of life’s great orators, but it’d have to do.
The others watched while we shovelled the earth back over the bodies. Morgan was letting the tears roll freely down her cheeks, but she wasn’t making a sound aside from the occasional sniff. I tried to put her to the back of my mind, otherwise I’d start up again too.
Damian had one hand on Morgan’s shoulder, the other arm around Lucile’s. where she was resting her head on his hand. Her eyes were wet, but the tears weren’t streaming. She didn’t know them as well as Morgan did, but it’s always going to be sad to see someone go, especially people who you’d seen alive and well just last night.
We patted the earth down over Rosie and Edgar, and I prayed that if they did turn into zombies, that it would be enough to keep them down there. My eyes were swimming when I looked up from the grave.
‘Right,’ I said, steadying myself, ‘Right. We said we’re heading out today. If you’ve changed your mind, don’t feel ashamed. I think this is a shitty idea too.’
They chuckled, but not a one of them said they’d stay behind. I felt my spirits lift, I think. My back straightened, and it became easier to breathe, easier to lift my head up. It made the tear I’d been holding back roll down my cheek. I swiped at it, and muttered something about getting a move on.
I returned to the Jamesons’ place and picked up the revolver, loading it as instructed while I mooched around my kitchen. Six shots, with two reloads, a total of eighteen rounds. I subtracted that from the likely zombie-population of Greenfield; and came to the conclusion that staying quiet and moving quick were better options.
There were five of us, small enough to move around without drawing much attention, and even if we did, Damian’s truck was a proper countryman’s all-terrain-vehicle. If it came to a zombie vs. ATV situation I knew which one would come out smashed up.
But if it did come to fighting, Morgan was probabl
y right. Sound would attract zombies, I was sure of it. I shouted to that zombie in the backseat of the wreck, and only after did it come towards me. So with that knowledge, I needed a quiet weapon, and my slugger was still leaning by the bathroom door. That would do nicely.
I looked at it for a moment, and remembered the last time I’d used it properly. I’d been going to play a game of baseball in the park. Couriers against the office staff. But I saw a guy I thought I recognised when I was in the parking lot. I made my excuses from Gladys, who’d given me a lift, and walked over to say hello, thinking he must be one of Jason’s friends, or someone from back in Dent.
The guy was in his car, one of those tiny little boxes, all sleek and modern but with only two seats and a crumple zone that consisted of the driver’s face. That was when I recognised him, and promptly made a U-turn, ducking behind a panel van. That bastard.
You remember I told you how I met Katy? How she was picking broken glass out of my head? That was from earlier in the night. Greenfield throws a little mini-festival now and then, plenty of live music and beer tents around the parks. Some drunk at one of the tent stages thought it’d be hilarious to throw a bottle at the band. Only he was a terrible shot.
Well this guy, was the guy. I’d asked the pretty nurse, half in jest, if she fancied seeing the Some Bad Men tribute act playing one of the evening slots – turns out she was a big fan, and agreed to meet me after work. I didn’t expect her to show, but she did. We started talking, and hit it off. But as we were at the bar, that guy showed up, and came onto her like the most stereotypical drunken asshole you can imagine.
When she refused his advances at the nightclub bar, probably as he was so far gone by this point that he could barely talk, he called her every foul name under the sun. I wasn’t having any of that – so I promptly strode up to him, balled my fist to punch, and was grabbed on the shoulder from behind.
Katy turned me around for our first kiss – hours after meeting her. She probably did it just to save me from getting kicked out and missing the band, not just because we were getting friendly. Would have still been satisfying to hit him, but the band struck the opening chords to “Midnight Ride” a moment later, so I was happy.
Eight months later however, and there were no bouncers around to kick me out of Cemetery Park. No security cameras in the car park either, a massive security oversight I was suddenly glad of. I waited for him to get out of his car and disappear into the crowds. Then I strolled up to his tiny foreign car, and put its driver’s side window in with my bat.
It felt so damn cathartic that I swung the bat down on his windshield too. Shame it was safety glass, but it still made a hell of a crack right across his driver’s side. After that, I looked around for any witnesses, then ran like hell towards the baseball game.
True enough, I was thinking about my freshly scarred scalp when I did it. Katy can defend her own virtue well enough, but she was still my girl, and to hell if some drunk was going to call her a whore, even if he’d done it technically before we were an item. You can say I’m an old romantic, but there is such a thing as “love at first sight”. It’s what made me smash that guy’s car up, and it’s what made me risk my ass against a city full of zombies.
Coming back to myself, I picked the bat up and rested it on my shoulder, but had to settle for putting the revolver in my pocket with the handle sticking out. I wouldn’t be taking out any zombie hearts with a baseball bat, but it’d surely knock them over, and the last one we came face to face with wasn’t too steady on her feet.
I played baseball at high school, so it followed that I’d own a bat of my own. Shame the same logic didn’t follow on to fencing, which I’d picked up in my senior year at college after watching too many fantasy movies. Hours of swordsmanship lessons, and nothing to show for it. I certainly wasn’t spending my money on a ‘battle-ready’ replica from one of those movies, something that’d snap or chip after a couple of knocks. I wanted the real thing, but they’re as pricy as firearms and nearly as tightly regulated.
I looked at the empty space by my door, where my sword-cane, my cavalry sabre or my Nordic longsword would lean against, and lamented the passing of historical trades – there were no blacksmiths in the Greenfield listings who worked anything other than lawn furniture and light fittings.
If only Edgar had been an officer, he’d have left me a rapier or something with the pistol. That’d go for the heart, and we’d need more than just a gun and a baseball bat out there, even if we planned on being quick and quiet, the best laid plans always go tits up.
If I hadn’t deferred my national service, gotten it out of the way with like my parents said, then I might have been able to come up with a better plan than just “we go out there and find them”, but that’s what I had and I’d have to do.
After a few more minutes procrastinating, walking in circles around my flat, I put my jacket and my boots on, and took to the stairs. Everyone would be meeting at Damian’s ride when they were ready.
‘Got to be a backup generator, girl. De stairs will be murder if we using them all de time.’ I heard Damian saying as I reached the last of the stairs.
‘Specs for residential blocks like this have their lectrics wired down into the basement,’ Lucile said, ‘makes it easier for sparks to diagnose and fix anything that gets borked up.’
‘Sparks?’ Damian asked.
‘Electricians. Come on, that ain’t just industry slang, is it?’ she asked.
‘Whatever it is, sounds good.’ I said, running out of breath as I reached the foyer. Even heading down that many stairs was difficult going. ‘Worth checking on that now?’
‘I might need time with it, if we don’t want the whole block to light up like a Solstice tree.’ She snorted, ‘Just guessing, but I think that might attract the infected, or looters if not. If I did it in the day, less chance they’d notice, but I’m not staying back here on my own while ya’ll ride out.’
‘What you have to do?’ Damian asked.
‘Unhook and de-fuse all the electrical connections to the basement, cept the one that powers the elevator. I don’t know how long it’d take for me to do, I’m a foreman, and as these northern boys say; “those who can’t do, sling their hook in.” But if they were any decent sparks who wired it, they’ll have left a diagram I can use. If not…looks like we’re walking.’
‘A job for tomorrow then.’ I nodded.
‘Whoa, I didn’t say I’d do it.’ Lucile said, folding her arms, ‘I ain’t got the right tools in my apartment.’
‘There’s all kinds of stuff in Stan’s place.’ I suggested.
‘Girl, if you don’t do it, I won’t be sharing de camping stove with you again.’ Damian smirked, folding his arms.
‘I was only joshing, dumbass. I ain’t giving up coffee for a small chance of electrocution…’ she drawled.
We sat down in the foyer, waiting for Neville and Morgan to arrive. It looked like Damian and Lucile had had similar thoughts about bringing weapons along this time, but we didn’t mention them. They were just security blankets at this point, I think. Nobody intended to use them.
Damian was twirling a cricket bat between his knees, while Lucile and I shared a similar taste in sporting goods. Her bat was aluminium though, and looked fresh out of the packaging – probably never used to commit an act of criminal damage, much less the intended sport.
If I were the sort of person who reads too much into things, I’d say Lucile didn’t really have a friend in the world. Between throwing a housewarming party for herself, being the only woman in a male-orientated profession – a management figure no less – and not wanting to add anyone to the rescue list, I reckon we were all she had in Greenfield.
No wonder she didn’t want to be left here alone. She was probably feeling homesick for Sydow right now. I knew that’s where her family lived, but her accent was more of a southern drawl, so I figured they were from further south, originally.
I’d armoured up with my jac
ket, and again, Lucile seemed to have had a similar idea, wearing a stylishly cut leather coat of her own. Damian had gone with a tan brown trenchcoat that made him look like a Noir detective. All he needed was a fedora and a cigar.
Neville and Morgan were only a few minutes behind me; Neville staving off the winter with a fur-lined denim jacket with jeans only a few shades off the same colour. Now let he who has never gone denim-on-denim cast the first stone. I could see the straps of his shoulder holster cutting across his jumper.
Morgan was dressed like how I figured her mood to be. Gone were the pinks and yellows of earlier. She wore a black shirt, with black jeans, black combat boots and the black leather motorcycle jacket Katy had got her for her birthday. A whole lot of black.
‘No weapon?’ I asked her, as we walked towards the 4x4.
‘Terms of the deal were that I stay in the car this time, but thanks to you, and Edgar, I’m coming. Wouldn’t want you guys going after my friends unless I was taking the risk too.’
‘You talked yourself onto this mission, not us. You can always turn back. Nobody’ll think less of you. Like I said outside, even I think this is a stupid idea and it’s my idea.’
‘You’re in it for love. Me too. Wouldn’t miss this for the world.’ She smiled up at me.
I tousled her hair and gave her a pat on the back, lowering my voice, ‘You’re the only backup I need, kiddo.’
Damian’s ride was a monster. You know those huge luxury 4x4s that movie stars drive in, killing the planet by inches? Well that was based off a military vehicle of similar size, but with the TVs in the backseat replaced with machine guns. This was the granddaddy ATV that inspired that one. If it wasn’t painted sky-blue, it’d get locked up just for looking so mean. Its front bumper – and it was a bumper, fitted for shoving unruly cattle along – came nearly up to my chest. Morgan actually had to give the shorter Lucile a push up.
‘Bloody hell, isn’t there a law against having monsters like this on the road?’ Morgan asked as she belted up. She glanced over her shoulder, into the trunk. You could have probably fit a double mattress in there. ‘Why’d you need all this space?’