The Undead Day Twenty

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The Undead Day Twenty Page 8

by RR Haywood


  ‘HAVE IT…’ Howie runs in behind them. Charging across the once perfectly manicured lawn with Dave and Clarence veering to his left and right to slam into the ranks in a desperate push for the door.

  ‘Marcy, Paula on Reggie…Mo with us…Roy, that shed any good?’ Blowers words fired fast and hard. Paula and Marcy drop back to cover Reginald as Mo comes forward to join the line. Roy spots the shed and the bench next to it and runs hard to vault once and vault twice to plant his legs either side of the apex on the pitch sloping roof. Arrow nocked, pulled, lifted and aimed. He fires the first shot that takes one lunging for the back of Howie through the neck.

  ‘OUR TARGET IS TO CLEAR THAT SIDE…’ Blowers shoots an arm out with a flat hand to the right side of the horde. ‘GO GO…’

  Soldiering is the professional execution of warfare, and right now it means to charge in against a much larger opposing force and match their aggression with teeth showing and lips pulling back. It means to take that gut wrenching fear screaming in your head to run away and use it as fuel to remember your training and discipline. It means there is a time to stand back and fire from safety and there is a time to fight hand to hand and feel the hot blood of the enemy on your skin.

  He goes in fast with Cookey forever at his side. The two of them cleaving with axes that fell many in that first strike. They go deeper. Side to side. Always knowing where the other is. They go hard, screaming for the pure glory of the fight. Nick comes after them, sensing the closeness of Meredith ragging bodies to his side.

  ‘CUNT CUNT CUNT…’ Blinky was born for this. Born to fight. Born to be a warrior. She goes in with years of hard tackling and learning fast feints to wield an axe. She takes the head of a woman from her neck and boots the body back into two more and attacks them with the same with controlled frenzy.

  Mo comes in last, veering off at the last second to whip through the lines to start his attack from within. This is it. Maddox is gone from his mind. Jagger is gone from his mind. Everything apart from Dave is gone from his mind. He slashes a throat, spinning on the spot to take two more down and spots the next four targets. Mo goes to work. He spins again, going through a gap left by two lunging at him. Two flicks and they drop with throats cut. A backstab into the throat of the one behind. He lets the knife go and grabs the hand coming to rake his face. The first twist breaks the wrist. He pivots to use the held body as a shield and breaks the elbow. He pivots again, blocking the next attack while dislocating the shoulder with a motion that brings the head into his arms that is snapped quickly to the side. As that one falls he turns and plucks the knife from the throat of the one he stabbed that falls to join the others.

  On the driveway two women stand with rifles braced in shoulders. Single shot selected. Behind them hides Reginald. His face a picture of fear and intense worry, his arms holding the bag of books close to his chest. One streaks out, spotting the three isolated. An arrow takes it down. Neither woman flinches but tracks and watches the battle underway. They can both fight and have proven it but they cannot match what the others can do. It isn’t sexism. It isn’t anything other than the use of skills for the job at hand and if cornered they will draw knives and show teeth but for now they will stand guard over Reginald.

  Maddox stays close behind Blowers and Cookey. This is chaos. This is a high speed burst of pure instinct. He can fight. He can kill. He can think fast and make decisions under pressure, be they right or wrong, but this? This is something else. It all happened within a few seconds too. In the Saxon. Running then charging and now he’s in it. Blood everywhere. The heat is immense. The stench is indescribable. The compression is stifling. The aggression they show is staggering. He learns fast though. He learns within the first few seconds this isn’t a street fight but a fight to kill. He stabs a chest, instantly seeing the lack of reaction in the man still pushing at him with bared teeth. He twists to the side, pulling the knife free to stab into the throat. Something touches his back. He lashes round, slicing the blade across a face but again not a killing blow. He brings a knee up making the beast bend double from the impact before stabbing down into the back of the neck.

  ‘MADDOX…SLICE…DON’T STAB…STRIKE AND MOVE…’

  Blowers’ voice. He prickles from being told what to do and slashes into a neck, cutting deep into flesh that peels apart down to the artery that spurts hot blood into the air.

  ‘STRIKE AND MOVE…DON’T FUCKING STAND THERE…’

  Nick now, shouldering one away to bring his axe down into the head. Maddox goes the other way, his eyes flicking to the potential targets in front of him. He goes for one as Meredith launches up to rip the thing from its feet. He locks on for the next that is taken down by Blinky cutting it in half. He snarls in frustration at not being given the chance to impress and show he can lead. He goes in with a knife that stabs and slashes wild and hard. He kicks, feints, dodges and shows the years of nasty fights born on the streets of social housing estates where you either lie in the gutter or stand up to be counted. He fights because he can. He learns and fights faster. Slashing throats and driving the point of his knife into eyes. He kicks legs out, making them tumble with dirty tricks learned hard and fast. He stabs back into groins and slices stomachs open for innards to fall out. He drives his thumb into another eye while stabbing repeatedly into the neck until he sees the spurt from the de-pressurised artery. He twists, moves, ducks and kills.

  ‘LINE…FORM ON ME…’

  He glances up to see Blowers and Cookey side by side with their backs to the garden wall and rushes to join them. Nick after him. Blinky and Mo coming from the ranks of the horde to make the line.

  ‘FIRING LINE READY…’

  ‘HOLD…’ Dave’s voice.

  They fight on. Holding the line as the infected charge at them. Blowers senses the subtle change in them again. The greater control they have. The speed and reflexes showing in their movements. Something like intelligence in their dead eyes, dull and weak but there nonetheless.

  ‘WE HAVE THE DOOR…’

  Dave’s voice again. Blowers flicks his eyes to see Charlie still within the ranks, spinning the great horse round as she lashes down with the axe now secure on her wrist. Ripples of motion as the horse’s rump slams the horde that stagger but rally and charge back.

  ‘CHARLIE OUT…’

  ‘COME ON,’ she screams again, geeing the horse to propel forward towards Roy as an arrow flies an inch past her head taking one of its feet behind her.

  ‘MAKE SPACE…’ A lunge from the line that goes forward on Blowers command. Maddox wasn’t ready. He didn’t know the command. He falters and follows a second behind them as they attack to drive the infected back. ‘BACK NOW….BAGS DOWN RIFLES UP…’

  Back they go. At speed too. Rushing back to the wall to drop hand weapons and bags at feet to pull rifles round. Again Maddox is a second behind them. Running to gain the wall to drop his knife and scrabble for this assault rifle while trying to wrench his bag from his back.

  ‘BLOWERS CLEAR…’

  ‘FIRE…’ Blowers gives his command. Five rifles fire a single round each in perfect unison while Maddox snarls and brings his rifle up with his bag still hanging off one arm. The rifles fire quickly. Single shots to burst firing. Paula and Marcy cover Reginald to bring him down, joining the firing line. Reginald stays low, running ducked to get behind Mo who shuffles forward a step to give the small man enough space.

  The effect is outstanding. Bullets beats axes. Bullets beats knives. Bullets beats brains from heads that burst from skulls exploding with pink mists. Bodies are blown back. The horde is withered.

  ‘MAGAZINE,’ Blowers first, dropping to a crouch to grab one from his bag as the used one is ejected. As he rises so Cookey shouts the same and drops.

  ‘I’M OUT,’ Maddox shouts, dropping to tug his bag free from being tangled on his arm and rifle sling. He pulls at the flap, his hands working to grab a magazine that gets pushed in, bolt back, up he stands to aim and fire.

  ‘
CEASEFIRE…’

  Instant silence. Ears ringing from the retorts of the weapons. Rifles remain in shoulders, aiming into the downed horde.

  ‘Crawler,’ Blinky says, firing once to strike a head.

  ‘Shot mate,’ Nick mutters.

  ‘Fuck yourself,’ Blinky mutters as Nick chuckles.

  Meredith runs through them, snapping jaws left and right to finish them off before seemingly remembering why they are here and running flat out for the door.

  ‘CLEAR OUTSIDE,’ Blowers shouts.

  ‘CLEAR INSIDE…COME IN,’ Clarence shouts back.

  ‘Fuck,’ Blinky coughs, bending double to spew vomit on the ground.

  ‘She alright?’ Maddox asks.

  ‘Fine,’ Blinky shouts, waving a hand in the air.

  ‘Injuries?’ Blowers asks, changing magazine. ‘We’ll go in…Blinky and Mo cover the rear when we enter. Reggie…’

  ‘Stay with Mohammed…yes yes, I most certainly will. May I say, Simon, that was very well done.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ Blowers says easily.

  ‘From the side was a very good tactic. Indeed yes, yes it worked most assuredly.’

  ‘He likes it from the side,’ Cookey says.

  ‘What?’ Nick asks.

  ‘Dunno, made it up,’ Cookey says, grinning as he swaps magazines.

  ‘Mo, good skills there, mate.’

  ‘Cheers, Blowers.’

  ‘Everyone ready? We’ll go in…COMING TO YOU…’

  ‘YEP,’ Clarence shouts back.

  ‘Magazine not I’m out, Maddox. Keep your bag straps and rifle sling clear of each other. Put the magazines at the top of bag so you can get them.’

  Maddox doesn’t reply but walks with the line across the battleground towards the front door of the big old country house. Bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere.

  ‘Roy, Charlie…you cover outside.’

  ‘Will do,’ Charlie calls back.

  ‘Love you, Charlie.’

  ‘Love you too, Cookey.’

  ‘She loves me. She said it. We’re getting married and having babies.’

  ‘Are we?’

  ‘How the fuck did you hear that?’

  ‘Focus,’ Blowers says, smiling at the post-fight energy flowing between them all. ‘Hey, you got him?’ he asks, reaching the door to see Clarence holding sentry.

  ‘Nope, out the back apparently. Come through,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Nice work, Blowers.’

  ‘Thanks, Boss,’ Blowers gives his easy response, his rifle held ready but lowered a few inches. A large gloomy hallway with light pouring through the cracks of the boards on the windows outside. A wide wooden staircase on the right. Doors ahead and on the left.

  ‘They only came a few minutes ago. Straight after the big man and the woman…’

  An old woman stood with her hand pressed to her chest looking very shaken speaks in a trembling voice to Howie and Dave. Blowers moves to the stairs, mounting the first few to gain a view of the top. Movement. People standing back. Whispered voices. He goes up quickly, holding the rifle with his right hand while his left waves for someone to follow him.

  ‘Behind you,’ Cookey whispers.

  ‘How many upstairs?’ Blowers calls out, ascending to see a small group of men and women cowering in a large doorway to one of the rooms.

  ‘Five,’ a man blurts the words out. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘From the fort,’ Blowers replies, sweeping his gaze over each in turn. ‘With Mr Howie…’

  Blank expressions, the name doesn’t mean anything to them.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ Cookey asks, turning to see Maddox coming up behind him.

  ‘Since it started,’ the same man says, his eyes catching sight of Maddox coming into view. ‘Are you soldiers?’

  ‘We’re…’ Maddox starts to say.

  ‘We are,’ Blowers says, cutting in quickly. ‘The fort is twenty miles away. Why are you still here?’

  ‘Fort Spitbank?’ The man asks, showing confusion.

  ‘It’s down the road,’ Blowers says.

  ‘I know where it is,’ the man replies stiffly, ‘is it in use? Have the government taken it over? I said we should bloody check it,’ he mutters to the other people around him.

  ‘It’s a safe place. We advise you go straight there…if you are quick we can escort you.’

  ‘Have the government got it?’ The man asks again.

  ‘Has the army mobilised then?’ Another asks.

  ‘Is it ending?’ A woman asks, moving out a step from the group.

  ‘Blowers?’ Howie calls out.

  ‘Yep, up here,’ Blowers shouts down. ‘Got five survivors.’

  ‘Paco went straight through to the summer house out the back…’

  ‘Coming,’ Blowers shouts back. ‘Listen, get ready to go. You can’t stay here now…’

  ‘Why ever not? We’ve got food and…’

  ‘They know you’re here now. They’ll come back. Get ready to go…’ Blowers says.

  ‘Are you ordering us to leave?’

  ‘Nope, your choice. Do what you want,’ Blowers says, heading down the stairs after Cookey and Maddox.

  ‘Fifty two,’ Reginald says, walking into the hallway with a pensive look on his face.

  ‘Fifty two what?’ Howie asks.

  ‘Bodies,’ Reginald says, his face reflecting his deep thoughts.

  ‘Right, a big man went straight through carrying a woman in his arms…’ Howie tells everyone, glancing at the old woman.

  ‘The summer house,’ the old woman says. ‘He carried the woman to the summer house. Didn’t say a word. Covered in blood they are…we offered help of course but…well, he looked dangerous,’ she adds in a lower voice. ‘Big chap too, nearly as big as you,’ she adds, looking at Clarence.

  Meredith scratches at a closed door, whining for someone to open it. She backs up, giving high pitched barks, expressing urgency.

  ‘Sounds like him…’ Howie says, looking round. ‘Blowers, Cookey, Nick, Clarence, Dave, Paula and Marcy with me. We’ll go down….everyone else stay here and get these people ready to go.’

  ‘Go?’ The old woman asks. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Reginald, you explain,’ Howie says, ‘we’re going before the dog busts through that door.’

  Five

  He stays at her side. His red eyes watching her breathe. He washed the blood from her face when she woke but more blood has come. He struggles to understand what to do but knows he will always stay with her.

  For nine days she has been at his side. She cleaned him. Bandaged his wounds. Fed him. Gave him water and comfort and in turn he killed the infected to keep her safe. Now she is hurt and he doesn’t know what to do.

  Paco Maguire was bitten by an infected eleven days after the outbreak started. Paco found courage after days spent hiding in fear and fought to protect her when the infected came to kill her. The dog was at his side when he went down. He died and came back in the true state of being. He came back changed. His cells forever different. His blood tainted. She bit him. The dog he protected knew he was no longer what he was, so she bit deep into his throat, with what at any other time, would be an attack to kill.

  He was dead again. So they thought, but the infection that killed him the first time kept a flicker of life inside his body. That flicker generated a heartbeat that sustained and gave another. Throughout the night he remained with the fallen until he finally woke with his throat torn apart and his body rendered weak but in the true state of being. He was turned. He was one of them.

  Then Heather found him, or rather, he found her. Something in him prevented him from taking her. She ran. He followed. She hid. He found her again. At first she used him as a shield but as the days went on she learnt to trust him and finally to give something more. The infection healed his body. The memory of a dog stopped him turning and the love of a woman made the confusion and rage go away.

  Now, on the twentieth day since the ou
tbreak started, he still does not have full cognitive function. Heather told him it would come. She helped him say words and held his hand and kissed his head. He liked that. He liked her touch and her soft voice. He grew strong again. Stronger than he was before, faster and harder than he was before but it was Heather that guided him and kept him clean. His mind wasn’t open enough for anything other than following Heather and killing the things that came close to her. It was Heather that kept the children safe and gave them to another family. When that family were attacked she went back and found the children again. She gave everything to keep them alive and get them to the fort. Heather hates people. She was terrified of being near anyone but Paco was different. Paco wasn’t a person. Not in that sense. He did not speak or judge her. He did not ask questions about her life that made her want to run away and cry.

  Then, as they neared the coast where she believed the fort to be, the infected came. They came all night. Running to attack to take the children and kill Paco who was one of them before but now something else. They fought together. They kept the children alive until they were trapped by the hedge. Heather was bitten and beaten close to death but she didn’t die and she didn’t turn either.

  The children escaped and when the last infected died so Paco carried her slumped form to the stable to rinse the blood from her body as she did for him. She came awake, just for a few seconds. He carried her again. He could hear them coming. More of them. More than he could fight. He found the house and went through the door, his mere presence, size and the fact he was torn to bits and covered in blood kept the people back.

  He didn’t know what to do but did not want the people touching her. No one could touch her. No one will touch her. No one will come close. As long as he has life in his body he will not allow it. He saw the summerhouse with a flash of a memory of a barn and a time with Heather eating tinned food. He went for it. Gained it and lowered to hold her close. They will come. The infected will come. He cannot run now so he will fight instead.

 

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