The Undead Day Twenty

by RR Haywood

  Shouts in the air. Gunshots. The sound of fighting then silence. He doesn’t know what that means but it matters not. No one will touch her.

  She can smell him. It’s him. The man-child that she kept safe until he found his courage. The smells hover over the ground like colours holding form and shape. Denser shades that tell her his feet landed here and here. She follows that trail to another set of doors and gives furious voice that she cannot get through. She launches up. Scrabbling at the place she knows will open it. The pack leader comes. The pack leader makes the door not be there. She runs out. The colours holding the scents of his life on the ground are strong and clear. She races flat and fast. He’s close. Him. It’s him but different. She can smell the things in his blood. She barks. She gives voice. She tells him she is coming.

  He hears a bark. He turns, his face showing pure violence to defend Heather. He rises smoothly. The muscles in his arms bulging. His chest inflating as he draws air to fight and kill.

  She barks again. Running over the grass that holds his scent so strong. She can see the building. He is in there. She knows it.

  He goes to the door and pauses to look back with softened eyes at the woman he adores more than anything in the world. Sadness inside. His mind unable to form sentence to give coherence to his emotions. The bark again. He goes through the door, ducking his head to get through and watch the dog sprinting flat out towards him.

  A pulse. A sensation. A feeling. A memory. A dog. A girl.

  ‘Dog…’ his broken voice says the word he now knows. ‘Gerl…’ the dog is a girl. He tried telling Heather that. ‘Dog…’

  That pulse again. That sensation grows stronger. The memories surge in his mind and heart. She barks. She gives voice.

  He goes forward with only instinct in his reactions. His heart hammering. A dog. The dog was a girl. He remembers a dog. That’s the only thing he could remember.

  She charges in. He runs out. She barks. He runs faster. She barks again. He sprints as she leaps at him, taking him down from the massive weight slamming into his chest. A dog. He had a dog. The dog kept him alive when he was afraid. The dog saved him. This dog. This girl.

  She whines with happiness bursting in her heart. It’s him. He was dead but now he is not. Now he is here. Him. She cannot lick him fast enough. She cannot show him her emotions. She cannot be close enough.

  His arms come up. His face streaked with tears. A rough tongue on his face. He remembers her licking him before. He remembers those noises she makes. He remembers the feel of her, the size of her, the soft fur and the even softer brown eyes.

  The long nose nuzzles his face, his jaw, his chin and hair. She flattens on him, pressing into his body, absorbing his smell. He is the link to her little one. He was a little one until he stopped being a pup and became strong. Now she cries and whimpers to lick and push.

  He cries too. He cries with his heart surging and his arms wrapped round her. He weeps tears that she licks away.

  It matters not to either why or how they are here. Only that they are. It matters not what caused this. Only that it is happening.

  ‘Paco?’

  On his feet. His face morphing into violence to snarl and stand ready. People come. People with guns. People that run towards him. Towards Heather. His arms tense. His head lifts. He readies to fight. Meredith snakes round his legs, whining and jumping up. Pack. Friends. Not enemy.

  ‘Slow down,’ Howie says, holding a hand out.

  Blowers breathes hard. The sprint across the grass was longer than they all thought. Marcy bends forward, resting her hands on her knees while wishing she had put the bloody sports bra on. Meredith went off like a rocket and they all saw him come running from the summer house. For one awful second it looked like Meredith took him down. Then they saw his arms come up and her tail wagging faster than ever before while she licked his face and dropped to lie on him.

  They come to a stop. All of them seeing Paco Maguire. The same man they fought next to for the safety of a dog that later proved she was tougher than nearly all of them. They saw him fall. They heard him shout the name Meredith which came to be hers. They saw him come back too and saw Meredith go for his throat. Those injuries are clear now. His throat is damaged but healed only in the way the infected do. The way Charlie is healing. The way Cookey’s back is healing. The way the hundreds of cuts, marks, bites and bruises on all of them heal. They also see the lack of recognition in his expression that now looks so different.

  Blowers holds back a few steps from Howie. Lowering his rifle and checking Nick and Cookey do the same. Dave slings his to the back but rests a hand on the butt of his pistol. The boss is safe. Dave can draw and fire faster than Paco can move.

  ‘Paco…it’s us…’ Howie says softly. ‘Howie…do you remember?’

  They can see his eyes. They can see the aggression pouring from him. The way he looks to each in turn as though assessing the threat and the way he rests those red bloodshot eyes on Clarence as though calculating the bigger man’s size and weight. He stands his ground though, and without a shred of fear either.

  ‘Clarence…’ Howie says, pointing at Clarence. ‘Dave…Blowers…’

  ‘Paco,’ Blowers says, inclining his head.

  ‘Cookey…Nick…’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Paco.’

  ‘That’s Paula…that’s Marcy…’

  ‘Hey,’ Paula says, smiling softly. ‘You’re hurt,’ she adds, nodding at him. ‘Roy, come down…bring your med bag.’

  ‘On way.’

  ‘We were with you,’ Howie says. ‘With Meredith…’

  Paco looks at Howie. Recognising the names they say. They are familiar…something about them. Heather would know if they can be trusted but Heather is hurt so he stands ready to fight.

  ‘You saved Subi…’

  His eyes flick to the woman.

  ‘And Rajesh? Amna? You saved them with Heather…’

  His head inclines a touch. His body stiffening in response to hearing her name.

  He goes to speak, his mouth forming sounds, ‘Ether…’ he growls, broken and hoarse.

  ‘Heather,’ Paula says, smiling gently. ‘Where is Heather?’

  He stiffens again. His body tensing. Suspicion in his eyes.

  ‘Is she hurt? Paco? Is Heather hurt? Subi told us to find you….Subi is safe…’

  ‘Zuuubi…’

  ‘Yes, yes Subi is safe. She is safe, Paco. Rajesh and the children are safe. Where is Heather?’

  ‘Ether…’

  ‘Where is she, Paco?’

  He stays where he is. Meredith whines round his legs. He looks down at her, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. ‘Dog…gerl…’

  ‘Meredith,’ Paula says. ‘The dog…she was with you…’

  ‘Gerl…’

  ‘She is a girl. Meredith is a girl…Nick, call Meredith, show him she accepts us.’

  ‘She isn’t my dog…Meredith! Here girl…come here…hey who’s a good girl….yes you are…’ He drops to rub her head and ears. Smiling as she snakes round his body pushing against him.

  Paco watches intently. Seeing the man smile and fuss the dog. The woman moves. He flicks his eyes to stare at her.

  ‘Heather? Where is Heather? Is she hurt? Is she in there?’ Paula points to the summer house. ‘I need to see, Paco…’

  ‘Paula…’ Howie says quietly when she moves a step towards him.

  ‘Show me,’ Paula says, ‘Paco, show me Heather…show me…’ She goes forward again. Paco stiffens, his head lifting. ‘I will help. Heather is hurt. Show me,’ Paula says. ‘Meredith…here girl, good girl…see? Meredith is one of us. Where is Heather?’

  ‘Ether…’ Paco says, twitching his head towards the summer house.

  ‘Show me,’ Paula takes another step then another until she is walking steadily towards Paco who looks over at Dave moving out to keep a clear line of sight. ‘Show me Heather,’ Paula says. She goes close to him, standing only a foot
in front. ‘Show me…Heather…Show me…’

  It’s Meredith that makes it okay. She runs to the summer house. Smelling the blood inside. Smelling the hurt woman. Paco turns sharply, glaring as the dog disappears inside to whine and make noises.

  Paula goes after her with a purposeful tread while giving thanks Dave is at her back. Paco rushes to get there first. Running into the summer house to see the dog licking Heather’s face. He drops at her side. His eyes transformed to show hurt and worry. He looks down hopeless and lost. Not knowing what to do. She woke up but now she won’t wake up.

  ‘In here?’ Paula says, knowing the answer but giving some voice to show she is coming in. He looks round, showing her that hurt and pain on his face.

  ‘Roy, need you now…’

  ‘Coming…’

  ‘Paco, move back…move back,’ she says, shunting him over with her body. Bites and cuts all over the woman’s body. Her arms, legs, her stomach…just everywhere. Blood all over her face. Blood on her hands and arms. Blood on the floor. She leans over the woman, gently easing an eyelid back and breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of any red.

  ‘She’s still breathing,’ Paula murmurs, pressing a finger into the woman’s neck.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Roy asks, breathing heavy from the sprint across the rear grounds.

  ‘Yep,’ Paula says, sitting up to rest a hand on Paco’s arm when he twitches to stare at Roy. ‘Friend,’ she says simply. ‘Roy…friend…’

  ‘Heather?’ Roy asks, easing his red medic bag from his back.

  ‘She’s in a bad way.’

  ‘Might look worse than it is. Is she breathing?’

  ‘Yeah but I can’t find a pulse.’

  ‘Don’t worry. May I?’

  ‘Yeah go,’ she pulls back to let him in. Roy examines visually first. Seeing her breathing unaided. Noting how far her chest rises as she breathes. There’s too much blood to see the wounds. She’s breathing so he chooses to focus on identifying the injuries first. ‘get some water…go round the other side. We need to look for injuries…’

  ‘Marcy…hand please…’

  ‘Coming.’

  Paco moves back. Watching closely as three strangers pour water over Heather’s body gently washing the blood and filth away.

  ‘Wound here,’ Marcy says, holding Heather’s arm.

  ‘Bite,’ Paula says, staring at the woman’s shoulder.

  ‘Look for anything still bleeding…’ Roy says.

  They work fast but gentle. Washing blood away. Cutting the legs of her trousers off to inspect her skin. The same with her top until she’s in underwear on the floor of a summer house being watched by the red eyes of a man who hates her being touched but with an instinct telling him this is okay.

  ‘Christ,’ Paula mutters at the number of bites on Heather’s body. Teeth marks everywhere.

  Roy feels her skull for breaks or fractures. He fell over once and banged his head. He called the ambulance himself and put himself in the recovery position until it arrived. Then he made the paramedics examine him fully before they declared he was fine and told him to stop phoning ambulances unless he was actively dying. The paramedics examined his head and spine and told him they were looking for anything that didn’t feel right. Roy even went to the hospital later, in his own car, and demanded a doctor check him properly. The doctor did the same thing, with lots of tuts, huffs and deep sighs. Now he does it. He feels the skull and down the vertebrae in her neck for anything that doesn’t feel right. With Paula and Marcy’s help he lifts her enough to feel down her spine then down her legs, visually checking for any deep lacerations.

  Her legs move like they should. Her arms too. He goes back to the head now looking for contusion marks that could explain concussion. He opens her eyes, shining his torch at the pupils in turn and noting they retract and both look the same. There’s no blood coming from her ears. She’s breathing unaided. He finds a pulse and waits with a pensive look on his face. Deep and strong.

  ‘She okay?’ Paula finally asks.

  ‘I’m not a doctor, how would I know?’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Roy.’

  ‘Seems fine. Nothing obvious that I can see…she’s got colour in her cheeks which seems to suggest she hasn’t lost too much blood. Maybe she’s just tired.’

  ‘Tired?’ Paula asks. ‘You saying she’s asleep?’

  ‘Passed out…exhaustion or shock.’

  ‘Shock’s dangerous isn’t it?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Oh very,’ Roy says.

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.’

  ‘We just cut her clothes off,’ Paula whispers. ‘She’s asleep and we cut her clothes off…’

  ‘She’s not asleep.’

  ‘You just said she was tired.’

  ‘I said she might be tired…as in collapsed…exhausted…fatigued…a general state of being bloody knackered…’

  ‘I know what you meant, Roy. If she was just tired she’d wake up wouldn’t she?’

  ‘Not if she’s unconscious.’

  ‘Unconscious now is it? You just said she was tired.’

  ‘I’m not a doctor.’

  ‘Well what do we do now?’

  ‘I don’t know. We need a doctor.’

  ‘Fuck me…’ Paula says, leaning closer to him, ‘now we look really stupid.’

  ‘What about internal bleeding?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘What about it?’ Roy asks.

  ‘Her boyfriend is right there…’ Paula whispers. ‘And he’s bloody huge…’

  ‘She might have internal bleeding,’ Marcy says.

  ‘She doesn’t. It discolours the skin.’

  ‘Oh…’

  ‘Right, just blag it.’

  ‘Blag what?’ Roy asks.

  ‘Blag it,’ Paula says again. ‘Pretend to do something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s right there. He just watched us cut her bloody clothes off…’

  ‘We’re only twenty miles from the fort aren’t we?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Paula whispers then leans back. ‘Yeah so…you think she needs to go in then?’

  ‘In what?’ Roy asks.

  ‘Into the fort for examination,’ Paula says, glaring at him.

  ‘Yeah I suppose so, or…’

  ‘Or what?’ Paula says, shaking her head in frustration when he doesn’t finish his sentence.

  ‘Or you know, just let her rest.’

  ‘With no clothes on?’

  ‘It’s a hot day.’

  Strange voices in her head. Strange hands on her body. Heather surges to consciousness to snap her eyes open and stare at three strange faces hovering over her.

  ‘PACO,’ she screams out in fear. She’s naked. She’s vulnerable.

  She rises quickly, scrabbling away as Paco moves in, sweeping them aside to scoop her up into his arms. She clings to his form, hyperventilating from shock as he strides outside. Men with guns. A dog barking. Soldiers. The army. They’ll hurt Paco. They’ll see his red eyes. They’ll shoot him.

  ‘RUN...’

  He runs. He runs because Heather tells him to run. He can sense her fear. She is awake now. She is back. She doesn’t trust these people.

  ‘Wait,’ a man with dark curly hair shouts after them, running behind them. The others run too. A huge man with a bald head. She saw him. She saw the man with curly hair too. She heard about them. She’s confused. The fight. The children. Running all day and night. She can’t breathe properly. She was bitten. She is turned. She’s one of them. She’s infected. Paco runs hard, powering on with her held in his arms. She clings to his neck. Looking but not seeing. Hearing but not understanding.

  ‘Heather…’ The man with curly hair shouts her name. He has a big gun. They all do. The dog is chasing them.

  ‘HE’S NOT INFECTED…’ she screams the words out, jolting in his arms as he runs. ‘LEAVE HIM ALONE…’

  ‘It’s fine…it’s fine…It�
�s Paco…we know him…Heather, it’s fine…’ the man with the curly hair shouts again. His voice isn’t angry. The guns aren’t pointing at them. The dog is running but not chasing. She looks but doesn’t see. She hears but still cannot understand.

  ‘Subi!’ A woman shouts, running with the others. ‘Subi told us to find you…’

  The first prickle of comprehension. The first nudge of awareness in her mind that woke too quickly. Subi. Raj. Amna…the children…the fort…Howie…Mr Howie…

  ‘Mr Howie…’ she blurts the name.

  ‘Me! I’m Howie…that’s me…Subi told us to find you…’

  She swallows and looks round at them again, ‘stop,’ she whispers. The big man slows but holds her close, pulling her into his body, ready to run again. She clings to him, feeling his body pressing into hers, feeling the heat from him. Paco is safe. Being with Paco is safety. She protected him. She fed him. She cleaned him. He killed for her and she killed for him.

  ‘Thank fuck,’ a beautiful woman gasps for air, rubbing her boobs, ‘didn’t put a sports bra on.’

  ‘That was silly,’ the other woman says quietly.

  ‘I’m Howie,’ the man with curly hair says, standing back. ‘That’s Dave…’ the man gasps, ‘and…other people…shit a brick he runs fast…’

  ‘He’s not infected,’ Heather says.

  ‘We know,’ Howie says, lifting a hand.

  ‘Well actually…’

  ‘Not now, Roy,’ Howie says. ‘You’re Heather?’

  She nods, still unsure. Every instinct tells her to go. People are bad. People with guns are dangerous but she knows who these people are. She saw them. She watched them fight in the square when they had thousands against them. She was hiding in the top flat of a building on the other side.

  ‘I saw you.’

  ‘Subi told us,’ the woman says. ‘I’m Paula…’

  ‘You have that army truck.’

  ‘The Saxon,’ Howie says. ‘We know Paco…before he…before he died. We were with him when it happened.’

  ‘He’s getting better,’ Heather says, her voice low and showing the distrust.

  ‘He will,’ the beautiful woman says. ‘I was infected…another one of ours was too…’