by T. A. Sorsby
I turned back to the ladies. ‘We’re getting out of here, as soon as possible. Laurel, you in a fit state to help, or do you want to go for a little lay down?’ I ribbed.
‘Good enough to kick your arse.’ she grimaced, shuffling off the tailgate.
‘Neville’s grabbing the trolley. Can you guys get back to the storeroom and load up another? If we only get two runs, at least losing an ear will have been worth something.’
Laurel and Anita got to it.
Morgan stayed a moment.
‘You like her?’ she asked, uncertainly.
‘Please, Morgan.’ I replied, incredulous. We were doing this now?
‘She’s her non-identical twin. I see you getting all close. If you didn’t care about her, you wouldn’t take the piss.’ She keenly observed.
‘Me and her,’ I said, bringing Morgan in for a hug, ‘we’ve lost someone close to us, someone special. We’re just working it through.’
‘I lost her too, she was my friend too…’ Morgan sniffed.
‘I know, I know.’ I told her, smoothing down the back of her hair, ‘You, me and Laurel. We’ve all lost her. Or, maybe not. Hope not. There’s still a chance…’ I added, feeling my eyes begin to well up. We squeezed each other tighter.
‘If we don’t find her,’ Morgan sighed, pulling away, her eyes reddened and glistening, ‘you have my blessing.’
I blinked. ‘Your what?’
‘If you and her, you know, want to take comfort…’ she said, irritated, wiping away a stray tear.
‘Why are you and your father convinced I’m after her?’ I shook my head. ‘Let’s just put a pin in this.’
‘Please, let’s.’ she nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek.
I left her standing there and walked into the plaza for some air, letting the rain have at me. I’d forgotten about the bodies, of the men who’d attacked us, the men who we’d killed. Felt weird to phrase it like that, even though it was self-defence. I walked over to the one who had held Lucile hostage, and tried not to think of him as a person.
I found it easier than I thought.
He’d threatened us, would likely have killed us. He deserved what he got. But I wasn’t sure that I could have done what Lucile did. Killed a man like that, no matter how much of a threat he was. I’d done in my share of the zombies so far, but a person…that was different. I’d hesitated at pulling the trigger on Dani. Would it be easier or harder, to kill a stranger? Maybe Neville had the right of it.
Kneeling down next to him, I beat my thoughts into line. He was dead now, no need to get philosophical over it. I put my hand around the knife in his chest and tried to pull it out, but Lucile had really lodged it in there. It wasn’t worth wrestling with the corpse over.
His vest had a few odds and ends in it that I was sure we could use, though the vest itself was too bloodied up for me to consider taking it as well. A compass, a few road flares, a small set of binoculars, I pocketed them along with his pistol and a couple spare magazines from specially sized pockets in his vest. There were bigger pockets, probably for bigger magazines, but they were empty. Hmm.
I investigated the other bodies as well, the two in black, recovering similar equipment - the compass, more flares, one of them had a first aid kit and the other a tin opener, of which I only took the former. They too had space for large magazines in their jackets, but the pockets were empty.
That’s why they only had handguns. No ammo left for the big stuff, or they were running so dry only one guy in the group was assigned it. If that were the case – that’d make him their best shooter, surely? He can’t have wanted to hit anybody, or he’d have done it. That, or maybe he just wanted everyone’s head down so he could escape.
Neville came back with the trolley, and the freezer-bag of frozen goods. I helped him load them into the boot while Morgan went to fill another bag. After the awkwardness I’d just had with his daughter, I was glad we were working in silence.
The other happy couple had moved to the edge of the rundown plaza, and waited at the corners for signs of trouble, leaning around them half-hidden. At the sound of the ladies coming out with the second trolley, they came over to join us.
‘Sorry man,’ Damian shook his head at Neville, ‘they shot out de tyres on your car, front two.’
‘He sprayed and prayed, and only grazed one of us,’ Neville sighed, walking to the edge of the plaza. I half followed him, not wanting him to go too far alone. He came back shaking his head, ‘Then he assassinated my car.’
‘Made sure we couldn’t chase after them.’ Damian said.
‘Ugh.’ Neville remarked, scratching the back of his head.
‘We’ll get it fixed, some day.’ I comforted, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt bad for him, but I needed to get us out of here. ‘Someone give me a hand with this?’ I gestured up at the shutters.
‘Thinking we come back tomorrow?’ Anita asked. ‘We’re becoming repeat offenders.’
‘That’s my hope. I’m just going to duck inside, turn the lights off. We might need them again, if we have to come back at night.’ I added, going in to do just that. Through the staff room, into the office, flick off the lights. I only then realised that put me in pitch black darkness, and hadn’t gotten my flashlight ready.
Feeling a little silly, I picked my way back outside with the help of the little light, grabbing a bottle of bubbly from behind the counter on the way.
‘What’re you celebrating?’ Laurel quirked an eyebrow, twinging as she did.
‘Our first firefight, and nobody’s dead.’ I aimed for cheerful.
I didn’t feel it inside, but somebody had to keep spirits up.
‘We found loads of booze already, remember?’ Anita pointed out.
‘Waste not, want not. And I want it all.’ I beamed, putting it on for the troops. The post combat shakes had started and even pretending to be okay made me feel a little better.
We pushed the two empty trolleys we’d used back through the doors, then with Damian’s help, closed the shutters. No longer locked on that switch behind the counter, we’d be able to just pull them right up again if and when we came back.
Without Neville’s sedan, half of us were either walking back, or squeezing in. Since we hadn’t even half-filled the massive cargo compartment, and it wouldn’t be a squeeze for long, Morgan and I jumped into the back, and held onto straps which seemed to be there for no other purpose I could tell.
Damian engaged the headlights and wipers as we pulled out of the plaza, swerving to avoid Neville’s crippled sedan, which he locked with a bleep of his keys as we rode by. With the exception of a grumble from Laurel as we bumped back down onto the road, we went in silence, watching the windows for signs of headlights or shambling shapes.
‘Leave the supplies in Stan’s place for now,’ I said, as we were pulling up outside the flats, ‘we’ll take them up when we have the elevator powered.’
‘Was hoping ya’ll were going to say that. I ain’t hauling this stuff up for the sake of a night, should we be getting evacuated.’ Lucile seconded the motion.
I helped carry the boxes through to Stan’s, while Anita and Laurel got comfortable in the foyer with a first aid kit. On my first trip in I saw her gently padding the graze and ragged tip of her ear with disinfectant solution and cotton wool pads, drawing gasps of discomfort. On the next run, she was getting Laurel to hold up gauze to her injuries, then was just finishing up with the bandages and tape as we brought the last of the supplies in.
‘Will she make it, doctor?’ I asked.
Anita gave me a look, but Laurel replied, ‘Tis but a scratch.’
‘We’ll keep it clean, and it’ll heal. The missing bit of ear though, that’s not going to grow back.’ Anita said, chewing her lip.
‘Obviously. Will I have a scar, on my face?’
‘Highly likely…’ she said sympathetically.
‘Awesome.’ Laurel tried to grin, but it must have twinged an uncomfortable muscle.<
br />
Anita patted her on the shoulder and picked up the first aid kit. ‘Someone’s going to have to help me change my bandage tonight too. Don’t think I’ve popped and stitches, but I could do with a cleanup and change.’
‘I’ll play mother when we get up top.’ Laurel nodded, ‘I believe we did promise to do each other.’
‘There a law against innuendo?’ I probed. ‘Are you good to walk, or do you want to stay down here tonight?’
‘The bullet grazed my face, not my leg. Don’t ask me to win any beauty contests, but I’ll make it upstairs.’
‘You’ll look fine when we clean the rest of the blood off. I’ll keep her stable, if she wobbles.’ Anita assured me.
‘Here’s me thinking we were supposed to keep you stable.’ Laurel joked.
I thought it’d hit a little too close to home, but Anita actually chuckled and helped her stand. Maybe it helped, to have someone not walk on eggshells around her. I should never have taken her gun away.
We set off upstairs, and for once, it didn’t seem like such a chore. Maybe we were all still buzzing from the fight or just feeling good about being well supplied, but there was a definite note in the air. Battered, bruised as we were, bad as I felt, we’d made it home. So much for a simple trip to the shops. Everything was trying to kill us these days.
*
Twenty Nine
Up on the top floor, we took our shoes off in the doorway to the safehouse and shed our coats onto the hooks. After emptying out the guns and other odds and ends I’d found on the Territorials, I hung up mine and flumped down onto one end of the sofa with Damian and Lucile, Neville occupying the armchair. Anita went over to the kitchen to sit next to Morgan on one of the stools.
‘I’m going to get cleaned up, someone grab me a beer?’ Laurel asked, going off towards the bathroom.
‘That’s a sensible idea.’ Neville concurred.
The energy I had coming up those stairs was drained the moment I knew I’d gotten back to safety. That was the price of burning so much adrenaline in a day. I was beat. But could still really use that beer.
‘Morgan?’ I asked, sounding all weak and weary.
‘Would you be a dear?’ her father continued.
Morgan opened the beer cooler, took out a cold one, and used the bottle opener. She sipped it, and carried on talking to Anita, who was fighting not to smile.
‘I get them,’ Damian grunted with the effort of standing up. My legs felt like jelly. ‘Girl.’ He sighed, patting her firmly on the shoulder, ‘that is just cruel.’
He returned with beers for all and a spare for when Laurel emerged. I took a long pull but stopped when a dark thought hit me - if civilisation itself has collapsed, how will we make more beer? We’d have to look into bathtub cider or wine kits if we were going to be stuck here forever. Across from me, Neville eyed his bottle. I wasn’t sure, but he might have been thinking the same.
‘Hell of a day…’ he mused, pressing the bottle to his forehead a moment. They were still fridge cold, and after sweating up the stairs, they were heavenly.
‘Seem everywhere we go, something goes wrong.’ Damian tilted his bottle in agreement.
‘Should have had guns for the radio station. And the pawnshop was on my own head, should have been on the buddy system.’ I admitted.
‘We let you go in there alone, could have just followed you straight up the ladder. Should have.’ Neville added, his brow furrowed, ‘Fault for that lies with all of us, not just you. None of us should go anywhere alone.’
‘We got to watch each other hit the head now?’ Lucile smirked.
‘Just when we out there.’ Damian said, putting his arm around here. ‘We safe up here.’
‘No arguments here. When that zed had me in the shop, I thought I was done for. If it hadn’t been for Laurel…’ I trailed off, looking down at my beer.
‘There was a moment of confusion on our end,’ Neville leaned back in his chair, ‘and then Laurel was up that ladder in seconds. I was behind her, but wasn’t quick enough.’
‘You’d have made it in time. Don’t worry.’ I reassured him. ‘How are you two anyway, you and Laurel?’
‘I did screw up at the gas station,’ he said, keeping his voice low ‘but she’s got anger management issues. Bad combination, high stress situation.’
That was the mature answer, I guess. Doubt I would have gotten the same one from Laurel. Neville was right, she wasn’t known for her level-headedness. Wonder if that got her into trouble during her service, or if it’d helped her reign in an even worse temper.
‘You’ve been through a couple scrapes together now, right?’ Lucile piped up. ‘You’ll have that brothers in arms thing going in no time.’
‘I’ll make it up to her.’ He nodded, taking it in. ‘How are you guys coping with all the bullets flying around?’
The sound of a stool scraping gently across the floor twigged my attention over to the kitchen, where Anita and Morgan were hugging. Morgan had her face buried in the crook of Anita’s neck, being taller. Anita held the girl tight, and brushed down the back of her hair. I could see Morgan’s chest heaving with sobs.
‘Think you’re needed,’ I said to her father.
Neville excused himself, going over to be with the pair. I turned away, to give them some privacy.
‘Tough break.’ Lucile noted, ‘Friend, sister. Going to need each other to get through this.’
‘We all need each other to get through this.’ I croaked, suddenly feeling my throat go tight.
‘You and Laurel.’ Lucile said, ‘Same thing. I didn’t really have anyone to lose up here, but back home I’ve got a family, and no clue how they’re doing. So I know how you’re feeling.’
‘Think this is the most emotional I’ve ever seen you,’ I pointed out, employing the typical male response of glossing over it.
‘Then ya’ll love this. The other day, I said to him,’ she gestured at Damian, ‘that I ain’t never had anyone to lose, until we lost everyone. Now that’s true Kelly. Aside from a few work friends, I didn’t know anybody here, but I’d still feel better off knowing - like they do - what happened to their people. But you, me and Damian, we’re stuck in limbo…and I’m sure glad as hell that we’re all together, in this…’ she cut off, waving her beer-holding hand vaguely.
‘She saying she like having friends.’ Damian translated.
‘Ya’ll assholes, but here’s to assholes who care.’ She corrected, raising her bottle in a toast. ‘Now I need one of my carefully rationed smokes. What’s the apartment policy?’
‘Outside, respect for de previous tenants.’ Damian replied, standing up again and going over to his coat.
‘Back in a few.’ Lucile said, flashing me a “let’s never speak of this deep talk” look - half warning, half smiling.
The opening and closing of the balcony door let a breeze roll in, taking the last of the body heat we’d generated on the stairs and nudging the temperature in there to something just the wrong side of comfortable. It also made me realise we had no lighting, and it was bloody dark in here. Guess our eyes had adjusted.
Neville, Morgan and Anita were still huddled in the kitchen, talking in low voices, so I tried not to disturb them or overhear anything as I got the lighter from my pocket.
The candles were still set out from last night, so I just went about the room creating mood lighting, drawing the curtains as I went. Most of them were the little tea lights you can buy sacks of fifty for cheap, but the Jamesons had been old fashioned and practical, so had a few big storm candles for power outages and slender candles for settings on dinner tables, despite not really having a dinner table.
Once the room was lit, it was actually starting to feel a little warmer again. Not sure if that’s because of the tiny flames or the warm glow just making the room seem a little cosier.
Laurel exited the bathroom, still self-consciously rubbing around her bandage. She sat down in the armchair, so I groaned onto my feet to retrie
ve the beer Damian had got her and held it out.
‘How’s it feel?’ I asked.
‘Like one inch to my left and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’ She muttered, casting a curious glance over to the trio in the kitchen.
‘Not sure dwelling on that’s going to help,’ I tried, ‘drink your beer, it’s medicinal.’
‘Not strong enough. Do we have any painkillers?’ she said, lips tight. ‘I’m no whiner, but if there’s a time for them, it’s now.’
‘I’ve got some strong stuff in my place, give me a minute…’ I rose once more and grabbed a candle, better to find my way around my kitchen with. The little flashlight was still in my jacket, but I didn’t want to waste the battery when candles were already lit.
‘I could come with you?’ she half-asked.
‘It’s alright, I know where to look. You should probably be resting.’
‘Again, shot in the face, not the leg.’ She pointed at the bandage.
I chuckled and went over to the door, leaving my beer on the coffee table. Again, I tried to keep as far from Neville, Morgan and Anita as possible, but I still overheard a snippet of conversation. It was about Anita’s family.
‘…should be buried, like the Jamesons, doesn’t feel right.’ Morgan sniffed, wiping away a tear.
‘I don’t like leaving them there, Neville.’ Anita said, her voice raw. ‘Morgan wants to help me. What do you think?’
‘Of course I’ll help…’ he replied, putting an arm around her.
I respected their privacy, kept quiet and slipped out into the pitch black corridor, lit only in a pool of candlelight. I hadn’t bothered locking my apartment, didn’t see the point at the moment, so I didn’t have to mess around with keys.
It felt wrong at the time, leaving those bodies there, but it wasn’t like we had a choice. The neighbourhood dogs chased us off. But with Anita stable now, she could do with the closure. Morgan too.
In my head, a gunshot went off, and red splattered all over a black and white poster. I cringed, closed my eyes a moment in the doorway to my apartment.
If they wanted to go back and bury their family, that was fine with me, I’d carry a shovel myself. But there were some bodies that I couldn’t bear to see again. If Laurel asked me to go back to that house and see to Dani’s remains, I don’t think I could. Too much of a reminder, too much thinking about what could have happened to Katy.