Left Behind: The Suburban Dead

by T. A. Sorsby

  Morgan’s last bullet must have landed just beneath the bottle, chipping concrete and knocking it backwards into the planter, un-smashed.

  ‘Shi- I mean, crap.’ She self-censored, looking over at her Dad.

  ‘Four out of seven, I’ll take that,’ Anita said, giving Neville a weak smile, ‘how about you?’

  ‘More like three and a half. But good enough,’ Neville replied, hugging his daughter, ‘for a beginner.’

  ‘Don’t forget to reload, and put the safety on,’ Anita reminded her. Sheepishly, she did so, swapping magazines within her jacket, reloading and clicking the safety on.

  ‘Guess we should get moving now?’ Lucile asked.

  ‘Reckon so.’ I gestured towards the door, letting folks go before me. I picked the shovels up and gripped the hand-holds at the top with one hand. They were heavy, but I wanted a hand free for doors and guns. I considered taking the sledgehammer Damian had used on the fence, but we were suitably armed as it stood.

  ‘Good shooting,’ Lucile congratulated Morgan, giving her a pat on the back as they went into the kitchen. ‘Better than my first spell at the range. My Pa was about as encouraging as yours too…’

  ‘Here’s hoping I don’t have to shoot anything more dangerous than the recycling,’ Morgan shrugged with a faint smile, ‘maybe I’ll have exactly half a chance.’

  Anita and I brought up the rear. I didn’t have any words left to speak, so I just gave her un-injured shoulder a squeeze, and followed her in. She cast one last look over the garden, the disturbed soil where her family was buried, the broken fence, and probably a dozen memories of happier times.

  ‘Should have buried Sam too.’ She sniffed, the corner of her mouth twitching up. ‘But…no, let’s get out of here.’

  We piled back into our ride with no disturbance from dogs or zeds. The pack must have moved on, like the mobs of shamblers, roaming around in search of food. Taking up my seat in the boot with Morgan, I offered her a fist to bump. She took it.

  ‘Feeling confident?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ she scoffed, ‘I didn’t expect to be a crack shot at lesson one but I thought it’d be easier than that. Guess that’s why Dad puts hours in at the shooting range.’

  ‘Let’s just hope you don’t have to use it…’

  ‘Comforting, thanks, arse.’ She narrowed her eyes at me.

  We drove out of the cul-de-sac and back onto the main roads, burned out cars, smashed shop fronts and broken houses rolling by; along with the occasional dark shape shuffling down side streets. The sporadic groups we’d seen over the last couple days seemed to have moved on, probably joining up with bigger hordes, leaving only the odd straggler behind. That thought didn’t bode well.

  ‘Hey, up front,’ Laurel asked, ‘why no radio?’

  I peeked my head above the seats, looking between Laurel and Anita’s heads. Neville leaned forward in his seat, peering at the dim radio display.

  ‘It’s turned on.’ He called back, fiddling with the volume control. ‘Set to GCR, but all we’re getting is silence. It’s as if they’ve stopped broadcasting.’

  ‘Turn it up, full.’ Damian told him, ‘Think if they were off de air, we wouldn’t find de station. Listen, careful…’

  He found a quiet stretch of road, and let the car roll to a stop. Neville put the radio up to full volume. The station was still broadcasting; but not music, and no commentary from Carl Sachs. It was broadcasting silence, with a little background fizz from white noise. The sound of an empty studio booth.

  ‘Shit.’ Neville muttered. I didn’t know if he was thinking the same, he twisted in his seat to look over at us. ‘Whatever’s going on, it is not good for our chances of making contact with the CDC.’

  Laurel leaned forward, ‘We need to get antibiotics for Anita’s shoulder, but what first?’

  Eyes turned towards Anita.

  ‘GCR.’ She said, her voice still a little raw from crying, ‘We may already be too late, but we have to try. If it’s a step towards getting the hell out of this city, the pharmacy’s going to have to wait. I’ll live.’ She added, through gritted teeth.

  *

  Thirty Five

  Damian pulled back onto the road and began to drive a little faster. Everyone started to check their guns - even Morgan was at it now.

  ‘What could it mean?’ Damian asked.

  ‘Could have just gone for a piss.’ Laurel suggested.

  ‘Wouldn’t have left the broadcast on, he’s a professional DJ.’ Neville replied.

  ‘Yeah, would have queued songs up.’ Anita chimed in. ‘Could be an emergency somewhere in the building.’

  ‘Someone might be hurt.’ Damian agreed.

  ‘We’ve got first aid, but if they’ve got zeds inside the walls…’ Lucile frowned, letting the words hang for a moment. ‘What do we do? Help them or bug out?’

  ‘Help them if we-’ Neville began.

  ‘-but if there’s too many-’ Lucile interjected.

  ‘Then we handle-’ Laurel tried.

  People started to talk over each other, words getting caught up in a tangle as everyone tried to get their ideas across. I knelt up in the back and stuck my head between Laurel and Lucile.

  ‘Hey!’ I called out, firmly, but not shouting. ‘We’re on our way. Let’s just see what the situation is when we get there. Damian?’

  ‘Yeah?’ he acknowledged, tilting his head to show he was listening.

  ‘Don’t drive us straight up, slow down as we come out of that wood. Remember that flipped car? Stop there if it’s clear. I’ll get out and scout ahead, make sure it’s safe to bring the 4x4 through.’

  ‘Need any backup?’ Neville offered.

  ‘Safest to go in pairs. Everyone else, stay with the vehicle.’

  ‘What if you hit more trouble than you can handle?’ Morgan asked. ‘Not saying I’m coming with you, just asking.’

  ‘We won’t be far from you, just searching around corners, making sure we don’t drive into a mob like we did last time.’ I reassured her.

  We hit the stretch of woodland with the expensive properties, and I made another paranoia-check of my weapons and ammo. Between revolvers little and large, I had twelve shots loaded, but it was my bayonet I kept a tight grip on as we drove down the secluded road.

  ‘Big houses out this way,’ Lucile said, eyebrows raised as she gazed out the window, ‘wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we had to fall back into one of these...’

  We slowed to a stop as we reached the edge of the wood, where the car had flipped to avoid something in the road. The body at the end of the bloody smear that led from the car was conspicuous by its absence. I crawled to the back of the boot and opened it up, Neville getting out of the passenger side door, and closing it so gently that it wasn’t fully shut.

  ‘Leave the boot open for me,’ I said, grabbing my baseball bat, ‘in case this bright idea goes horribly, terrifyingly wrong.’

  The road turned a right angle to the left a little ways ahead. I met Neville on the front lawn of the corner house, and passed him my bat before drawing my bayonet. He approached the side of the house to peer around, while I kept close to the wall.

  ‘Got one here,’ he muttered, ‘back to us, shuffling towards the corner down to GCR. We going to take it out?’

  I nodded, and reversed my grip on the bayonet, better to thrust downwards with. ‘I’ll go first, stay a little ways behind me.’

  I crept off the lawn and onto the pavement, stepping softly and carefully, avoiding any broken glass or debris, unlike the first time we came here. I didn’t know what was around the corner, so I resisted the temptation to ready my gun as well. Neville was only a few yards behind me, I wouldn’t need it.

  I could hear its ragged breathing as I drew closer, hissing and wheezing to itself as it took deliberate, shuffling steps towards the GCR broadcast mast, which towered a clear storey or two above the rest of the roofs in the neighbourhood.

  It had worn a light bl
ue jacket in life, a waterproof with a University Skiing Society logo stylised on the back in blood stained white. Its figure was slim, probably a girl, but with a buzzed short head of hair. I tried not to think too much about it, as I drew within striking distance.

  I raised the heavy bayonet, and plunged it down into the back of the zed’s skull, punching through bone with a wet crunch. It collapsed to the pavement, never knowing I was there. I couldn’t help but be a little pleased with myself, but that was short lived. I looked down at my bloodied bayonet, and quickly wiped it off on the former student’s jeans.

  ‘Shit…’ I heard Neville swear just behind me, turning around just as I heard the moan of another zombie, sending the hairs on the back of my arms on end.

  It staggered out of the open doorway of the house on the corner, stumbling down the steps and landing face-first on the path. That made me pause, just for a moment. The fall knocked the wind right out of it, stopping it mid-wail.

  Neville didn’t stop to smirk. He crossed the pavement and brought my bat down on its head, one swing, and the zombie stopped writhing.

  ‘Hope nothing heard that…’ he mumbled, looking about.

  ‘Think we’re good.’ I said, giving him the thumbs up.

  We kept our heads down and moved quickly along the street, just in case. The road continued for the length of a few houses, carrying straight on but with a corner to the right at the end, in the direction of GCR.

  ‘At least this road’s clear. Still got your bi-nocks?’ he asked, crouching down behind someone’s garden wall.

  I did. I got myself up next to him and we took out our binoculars, looking well ahead down the long stretch of road between us and the gates of GCR. Same collection of parked cars as yesterday, only with no zeds between them this time. Or at least, none that we could see.

  The gates to GCR were closed, but zeds were pressed against them - I tried to count, but Neville had me beat.

  ‘Between twenty and thirty, if I had to guess,’ he sighed, ‘plus there could be more on the other sides of the fence, can’t see from here, that house on the left is blocking the line of sight.’

  ‘Be a good place to put our backup though,’ I suggested, ‘if they’ve got a window overlooking the car park, or maybe with a line into the building itself, we could get a clearer picture.’

  ‘If it’s all gone tits up inside, I’d definitely feel better if Laurel had a position like that.’

  ‘Can’t see anything between us and there, but if those zeds catch sight of the truck coming down this stretch of road, say goodbye to that plan.’

  ‘Or…we could use that…’ Neville thought aloud. ‘Get Damian to drive by, draw the zeds away, we can get right up to the gate.’

  ‘Not a bad idea, but we don’t know if they’ll open the gate, or if Sachs and his people are still in control over there. Not sure if announcing our presence is going to go down well if there’s new management, like those bastards from last night.’

  ‘So how do you want to play it?’ Neville asked, nodding. He didn’t sound disapproving, but didn’t sound like he was fully on board either. I didn’t blame him. Getting through the zeds would be a challenge. Getting in without being seen might even be impossible.

  ‘Get Laurel and Morgan up in that house on the end. Morgan for backup, while Laurel might be able to scope in to get us some more info, also works to watch our asses while we crawl through the fence with that set of bolt cutters.’

  ‘Nice,’ Neville nodded, checking over his shoulder to make sure we were still safe, ‘bring Anita, Damian and Lucile in with us?’

  ‘Yeah. Enough firepower to make strangers think twice about taking us on, enough familiar faces for Sachs to know it’s us.’

  ‘Right. Sounds doable to me.’ Neville said, taking a deep breath.

  ‘You…okay?’ I asked uncertainly.

  ‘Just don’t want to end up in another firefight.’ He said, ‘its one thing shooting at things that can’t shoot back. Different, when the bullets are flying your way too.’

  ‘So we do this carefully. We could just be overacting to someone going for an extended bathroom break…’ I shrugged.

  ‘Hope so…’ he hummed. ‘Where shall we park?’

  I looked not down the road to GCR, but to our left, as if we’d go straight on and follow the road around its turn.

  ‘Over there, down to the next right. Let’s take a look…’ I muttered, leading the way.

  Again, we kept low, just in case. There were only three houses before the road turned again, and coming up to the edge of the house on the corner, I crossed my fingers that the road was clear.

  ‘Yes!’ I grunted, satisfied. ‘We can park down there, road’s clear of zeds and the houses on this side probably just have a fence or a hedge between gardens.’

  ‘So we park up, break into the house on the end, and then bust through gardens? Going to be a bad day for the fences of Greenfield.’

  ‘Depends. If Laurel’s got a good position in that house, then it’ll do for us. All we need is a clear bit of fence to get through, but it’d be good if we had her somewhere useful.’

  ‘And Morgan somewhere safe.’ He added. ‘Alright, we better get back to them…’

  We made it to the 4x4 without any fuss, the boot lid still agape. I climbed in through there while Neville got in the front again.

  ‘Result?’ Laurel asked.

  ‘Don’t take the next right, go for the one after.’ I instructed Damian. ‘We’re going to go around the back, it’s clear. Laurel, Morgan, we’re going to get you set up to watch our backs, while the rest of us go in through that big green fence.’

  I began to rummage through the toolbag for something to cut the thin but rigid mesh with; fishing the set of bolt cutters from the bottom of the bag, heavier than they looked. They were spotted with something at the business end, but the brownish specks chipped of under my nail, not rust. Gods know what Uncle Rob was using these for.

  ‘How we going to deal with de front door? If it’s locked?’ Damian asked.

  ‘That’s a fair point, I’d still lock up, even with that fence.’ Anita said.

  ‘I wanted to go in quietly,’ I thought aloud, ‘can’t risk the door being watched by someone unfriendly. We’ll find another way in. Might be able to crowbar a window open.’

  ‘Or two,’ Anita suggested, ‘go in from two sides on the ground floor, sweep it, meet in the middle. How many ways upstairs?’

  ‘Just the one set of stairs.’ Neville supplied.

  ‘Not ideal...’ She frowned.

  ‘We’ll make it work. Just be careful.’ I reminded everyone.

  Damian drove us by the first right and down the second, switching off the engine at the top and letting it coast along, negotiating around less parked cars than were down the other side. He eyed up a couple small white vans as we rolled by, weighing them up as potential sources of diesel.

  Three houses up from the last, he parked in the middle of the road. Wouldn’t be much point pulling into a parking spot if we had to make a speedy getaway.

  I let Morgan get out of the boot first, then dragged the tool bag to the edge with me, handing the bolt cutters to Neville, and a crowbar to Anita, keeping one for myself. Neville opted to leave my bat in the car with Damian’s, but Lucile and Morgan kept their sporting equipment.

  The house on the end was stone-clad around the foundations, and white panelling above, trimmed up with hanging baskets. The windows were faux-lead panelled, modern glazing. It wasn’t exactly my taste, but it was definitely a family home. Could mean trouble.

  In silence, we made our way to the house, Damian locking up behind us, as usual. I crept to the edge of the front garden, another manicured lawn with a path up to the frosted glass door, and took a look down the side of the building.

  There was a decent sized gap between the hedgerow that formed the edge of the back gardens, and the wire mesh fence that ran around GCR. After the fence, we’d be squeezed into a gap bet
ween it and the building, a few feet wide. Easily enough for the smaller crowbars to jimmy a window.

  ‘Alright, so far so good, no zeds coming our way,’ I reported, coming back to the rest of the group, assembled in front of the house. ‘Anita, any ideas on how to get in?’

  ‘I’ll search the flowerpot, you’re taller, get the door lintel.’

  ‘Spare keys outside the house?’ I asked, incredulous.

  ‘They’ve got an alarm box,’ Anita pointed, up at one corner of the building, ‘power’s out so we don’t have to worry about it going off. If they’ve got a coded alarm, the family could leave a hidden spare – if someone found it they’d still need to know the code.’

  I reached up and felt around on the lintel above the door, but didn’t get anything other than damp, mossy fingers. There was nothing under the large urn of flowers beside the door, but while she was crouched down there, something else caught her eye. She picked a small rock up from the bed of stones the flowerpot was nestled in, and twisted it open, retrieving a key from within. Neat.

  ‘You can get these for about a fiver. Professional second-storey type would probably have found it,’ She observed, ‘but your average burglar is more likely to smash the window and reach for the lock than look for something like this.’

  She tried the key in the door and led the way into the house. A corridor ran down to the kitchen, with stairs on the right. I went in behind her, gun in one hand, bayonet in the other, and nudged open the door on the right with my foot.

  ‘Living room, goes through to dining room.’ I called out.

  She continued on to the kitchen, while I went through the living room and met her at the other end. Kitchen-diner then. There was a round pine table with five mats in place around a wilting floral arrangement. Five potential zeds, a whole family, somewhere in here.

  ‘Who does that?’ Anita asked, pointing at the dying flowers. ‘That’s where you put the condiments.’

  I met her eyes, bright for a moment, but the light soon faded, her expression turning sour as some memory drifted up and took her.

  ‘They must take it off the table for breakfast. I know I couldn’t live without brown sauce on my bacon sandwich.’ I said, trying to bring her out of it.