The Undead Day Twenty

by RR Haywood

  This is what Nick does. This is why Nick walks away each time. Because of this. Because of those doors opening to disgorge the lads screaming to join the fight. Howie diving from the driver’s door deep into the undead as Clarence launches after him. She spots Marcy jumping from the back doors to run towards Roy’s van firing her assault rifle into the infected as she goes. Another gun joins in. Paula firing from the back by the horse trailer as another big man comes running round to sprint towards the fight. She knows him. Everyone knows him. Paco Maguire.

  The pulse hits. The surge of energy that flows from each to the other. It fuels Paco. Days of fighting have honed his skills. His strength is staggering. His speed immense. He has the good of the evil, he does not feel pain, he has no voice in his head telling him a thing is too heavy or too hard to do and so he goes in snarling to slam three down in one sickening crunch of human forms being compressed. His feet start working. Stamping to break heads and necks. He picks one up, an adult female and flings her one handed into three more. He grabs another. A big man that finds his head wrenched to the side before he’s thrown through the air.

  Howie rises to his feet in the midst. His axe gripped and already swinging as they wilt back from him. He cleaves deep, swinging fast to clear them away. As he turns to the left so Clarence runs past his right shoulder to barrel into them.

  Mo and Dave do as their mission dictates. Side by side through the horde that fall sudden and quick from Achilles tendons and hamstrings cut by surgically sharp blades. Lilly blinks once, blinks twice and they are there. The pair of them turning as one with their backs to her to face anything that comes. They lower stances to flick blades up against their forearms as another arrow swooshes a foot away.

  ‘Heaven be Jesus,’ a thick accent mutters near her.

  ‘LILLY SAFE,’ Dave roars through the battle.

  ‘YE’LL DIE NOW YE HEATHEN BASTARDS…THE LIGHT IS HERE…DO YE SEE IT?’

  ‘Is that Kyle?’ Mo asks as they both look towards the booming voice.

  ‘It is,’ Lilly says from behind them.

  ‘JUST A COOK YEAH?’ Howie shouts, grinning like a fiend as the ground around him runs thick with blood.

  ‘BACK TO SATAN YE BASTARDS…’

  ‘That Father’s a maniac, Peter.’

  The lads steam in. An arrow head formation with Blowers at the lead, forcing a path through the infected to Howie and Clarence. Meredith ahead of them ragging bodies aside and launching to rip throats out. So many things happening. So many things to see. With Mo and Dave in front and a dozen strong men at her sides she views the thing Nick has told her about. The way Charlie and Jess ride through the lines slamming them aside only to stop and rear up as the horse spins round on her back legs. The size of the beast. The sheer aggression on what should be a gentle herding creature. Those front feet come down hard into soft bodies that burst open. Jess’s rear end doing a smaller version of what the Saxon did and knocking them away like dominoes as she spins round in an ever widening circle and all the time with Charlie swinging the axe.

  ‘LILLY IS SAFE…’ Howie’s voice, a flicker of reaction in every one of the team. ‘FIGHT OUT…’

  ‘Shit,’ Lilly never swears. She loves it when Nick swears because it is a part of him and never done with malice but to swear now is the only response to give. Seeing them come from the Saxon was one thing. Seeing them launch the attack was something else but to see them turn and fight simply to kill is a wholly new level of brutality.

  Nick! She sees him wield the double-headed axe with a strange wry smile on his face. The speed of him. The strength in his arms. The cleanness and purity of him glows amidst the darkness of the ugly beasts around them, she watches him with adoration and love showing through the icy composure. Something catches her eye. A body rising up high to be taken back down and even from this distance and with so many other sounds in her ears she hears the body hit the ground. A space forms. A circle of death around Clarence as he spins while gripping that same ruined body to wither the infected around him. A human battering ram. A corpse as a weapon. A heavy adult too. He goes faster. The genial loving man changes to a berserker that destroys with a crazed roar coming from his huge chest. He stamps and flings them aside to die. He rages and thumps and breaks anything near him. Another body lifts in the air. Her eyes flick to see Paco launching one away then turning to boot one in the guts that goes back knocking more over. He runs into them, grabbing one that is used to beat the others with then throws it away when it becomes too broken and soggy.

  ‘You see that?’ Cookey gasps.

  ‘Huh?’ Blowers asks, taking a head off.

  ‘Paco.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Behind us.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Blowers lashes out hard, clearing space to turn. ‘Fuck me…’

  ‘We got two Clarence’s now,’ Cookey says, jumping back as one goes flying past him with an arrow stuck in her head. ‘Cheers, Roy.’

  ‘Welcome.’

  ‘Cunt cunt…cunty cunt…you’re a cunt and you can cunt off you cunt…’

  ‘You swear more than I do,’ Nick mutters from behind her.

  ‘FUCK YOURSELF…cunt…oh you dirty cunt…give me my fucking axe back…FUCK IT,’ she screams, trying to yank the blade from sternum in which it is currently embedded. She tugs harder. An arrow flits past her head taking one out. She tugs again. Another arrow flies under her chin. She stamps down to add leverage. Another arrow flies. ‘CUNT IT…’ she stamps and tugs, heaving the body about the ground while Roy kills everything around her. ‘HA!’ She staggers back with the axe now back in her hands. Roy tuts mildly, twitches his aim and looses the next.

  ‘Running low on arrows,’ Roy calls down.

  ‘I’ll add it to the list,’ Paula calls up, her rifle still held into her shoulder.

  ‘Who do you think those men are?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Don’t know, Marce,’ Paula says.

  ‘Did you just call me Marce?’

  ‘Yep. Problem?’

  ‘Nope. My friends used to call me Marce.’

  ‘Yeah? So it’s okay then? Paco’s doing well, Heather.’

  ‘Oh very,’ Marcy says. ‘Reminds me of Clarence.’

  ‘Er…yeah, yeah I guess he does,’ Paula says lightly in a tone that earns a quick glance from Marcy. ‘What?’

  ‘What?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Why you looking at me like that?’

  ‘No reason,’ Marcy says, narrowing her eyes before looking away.

  Reginald watches the monitor on the desk showing the high-definition camera feeds from the lenses fitted in the van’s light clusters. He watches Paco, examining the way the man moves. He tries to spot all of them in turn but only catches glimpses here and there. Clarence is easy to see because of his size. He wants to watch Maddox but can’t find him. He waits for a while longer, hoping the numbers reducing will give him a better view but the tuts of frustration come closer together. He just can’t see it all from here. He would launch the drone but the speed of the fight tells him it will be mostly over before he can get the thing launched and operated.

  There’s nothing for it. He stands quickly, huffing with irritation as he opens the back door and tuts again at the connecting bar of the horse trailer that he has to navigate. The heat hits him first. That solid wall of humidity. The noise comes next. It was muffled in the van but now he can hear every awful squishy squashy sound of wet flesh being torn and bones snapping. He peers from the back end, leaning further and further out before taking that first step into the road. Still no good. He still can’t see properly. He goes out wider, frowning and blinking and still bending forward.

  ‘Damnation,’ he mutters, huffs and walks across the road to gain a proper view. ‘Where is Maddox?’

  ‘FUCK!’ Paula snaps, turning quickly to aim her rifle at him. ‘Don’t bloody do that…’

  ‘Maddox? Where is he? He’s not dead is he?’

  ‘With Blowers in the middle,’ Marcy says.
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  ‘I say, Roy. Can you see him from up there?’

  ‘Yep,’ Roy says, loosing a shot. ‘Come up.’

  ‘Up there? Gosh I think not. How ungainly. What is he doing?’

  ‘Who?’ Roy asks.

  ‘Reggie, what are you doing?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Maddox of course, what is he doing?’

  ‘Fighting,’ Roy says.

  ‘Well yes I assumed he was fighting but how? Do you see a difference?’

  ‘He’s bloody lost it,’ Marcy mutters.

  ‘He never had it to start with,’ Paula replies.

  ‘Difference in what?’ Roy asks, glancing down while he pulls another arrow from his bag.

  ‘Oh yes of course you don’t know. I mean…’ Reginald says.

  ‘Know what?’ Roy asks, nocking the arrow as he lifts to aim.

  ‘Never mind that for now. Is there a difference?’

  ‘Difference in what, Reginald?’ Roy asks.

  ‘His er…ability I think is probably the right way of saying it. In comparison to everyone else I mean.’

  ‘Ability?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘Fighting ability,’ Reginald says. ‘The way he fights. Is it different?’

  ‘Oh…hang on…’ Roy lowers his bow and peers at the battle, spotting Maddox slashing wildly left and right. ‘Well he’s using a knife instead of an axe…is that what you mean?’

  ‘No. Gosh I really need to see for myself.’

  ‘Go up with Roy and have a look,’ Paula says.

  Reginald balks at the very suggestion. The mere thought of clambering up the side of a vehicle is simply abhorrent. The indignity of it. The embarrassment. Gosh no. No indeed. He stiffens and pushes his hands behind his back.

  ‘Want a boost?’ Marcy asks.

  ‘A boost? No I do not want a boost. I most certainly would not like to be boosted anywhere…’

  ‘Was only asking, Reg.’

  ‘Reginald! Or Reggie if you must.’

  ‘Paula just called me Marce.’

  ‘That is simply divine and I for one am most happy for you but my name is…’

  ‘Friends abbreviate friends names, Reggie,’ Marcy says with a sigh. ‘Sign of endearment.’

  ‘Good Lord, Marcy. Can we focus on the matter at hand? Roy, I really need to know if there is a visible difference between Maddox and the others. Is he slower? Faster? Of equal speed?’

  ‘Er…slower,’ Roy says.

  ‘Noticeably so or marginally so?’

  ‘Noticeably.’

  ‘Gosh indeed. Yes indeed. I really do need to see. I do. Indeed I do. Tally forth then I say. What must be done shall be done. Yes, Heather would you oblige me?’

  ‘Sorry what?’

  ‘I said I’d give you a boost, Reggie,’ Marcy says.

  ‘I do not wish a boost,’ Reginald says stiffly. ‘And Heather has kindly volunteered to assist me.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘Up we go. I say, is the best route from the wheel to the bonnet then up the windscreen?’

  ‘For you yes,’ Roy says.

  ‘You want to go up there?’ Heather asks the strange little man in the glasses.

  ‘Oh yes, I need to see. I really do,’ Reginald says, waiting expectantly.

  ‘Er…’ Heather says, unsure of what he’s waiting for.

  ‘He’s incompetent at anything that doesn’t involve a pen, Heather,’ Marcy says.

  ‘Just tell him what to do, love,’ Paula adds.

  Heather blinks and blows air with a slight pause before forming a cradle with her hands and lowering down to stare at Reginald.

  Reginald stares back, down at her hands then back up to her. ‘And what do I do now exactly?’ He asks politely.

  ‘You put your foot in my hands and I lift you up.’

  ‘All the way up there?’ Reginald asks, looking up at Roy.

  ‘No. To the bonnet then you go up the next bit.’

  ‘Oh. Oh yes. Yes I see. How wonderful. You are very good at this, Heather I must say. Righto, so my foot goes in there does it? Which foot? Does it make a difference?’

  ‘Er…any foot will do.’

  ‘Ah yes, right so I shall use my right foot. Gosh your hands are very high, do you think you can lower them a bit, perhaps a bit more? Yes, just a bit more…and again?’

  Heather drops and drops until her hands are inches from the floor so Reginald can step in with a smile.

  ‘Up we go,’ he says.

  ‘You need to hold on….no not me…the van.’

  ‘Oh I am dreadfully sorry,’ Reginald says, pulling his hands from her head. ‘On the van you say.’

  ‘Yes, ready…’ she surges up, expecting more weight. Reginald yelps, falling into the side of the van as Marcy snorts a laugh.

  ‘Just push him up,’ Paula says, slinging her rifle for a second to help shove Reginald onto the bonnet. ‘Go on…pull yourself then…’

  ‘I am trying I am,’ Reginald yelps again, flailing his limbs in an effort to try and swim through the solid metal sides.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Marcy laughs again. ‘Roy, keep an eye.’

  ‘I am.’

  Marcy grabs the handle as Roy did and pulls up to get a foot on the bonnet. A deft twist and a shift of weight and she steps over Reginald while still laughing. ‘Come here you bloody idiot,’ she grabs his shoulders, heaving him up while Paula and Heather push his feet.

  ‘Gosh! Oh my…I’m falling off…’

  ‘Just stand up,’ Marcy says, still laughing.

  ‘I cannot! I am falling.’

  ‘Reggie…Reggie…you’re on the bonnet…just stand up.’

  ‘I’m falling. Hold onto me…’

  ‘Get off my legs for fuck’s sake…oh you…right, just stand up. There, now see?’

  ‘Oh,’ Reginald says, rolling onto his backside. ‘Indeed. Yes. That worked. Well done, Heather.’

  He stands carefully as though the van will suddenly throw him off like a bucking horse. Clinging to Marcy he turns to the battle and goes up on tiptoes but tuts and huffs again.

  ‘Go on then,’ Marcy says, nodding at the windscreen. ‘Roy, grab his hand?’

  ‘Yep, be quick then,’ Roy says, reaching down.

  ‘Gosh. Will it hurt?’ Reginald asks, tentatively reaching for his hand.

  ‘Will if you don’t hurry up,’ Marcy says.

  ‘Ready?’ Roy asks, not giving him time to reply but heaving the man up the windscreen while Marcy pushes his legs.

  Reginald screams. He screams for the fear of it. Heads turns and look.

  ‘Stand up,’ Roy says, dragging him back further onto the roof.

  Reginald stops screaming and finally opens his eyes to look down at the solid roof of the van. He stands slowly again. Still convinced the roof will cave in or the van will start rolling with him on it.

  ‘Ah now…yes. Yes I can see now,’ Reginald says, staring round at the battle for several long seconds. ‘And where exactly am I looking?’

  ‘There,’ Roy says, pointing towards the middle.

  ‘Indeed,’ Reginald says, nodding while narrowing his eyes. ‘Er no. Cannot see a thing there, Roy. We’re looking for Maddox.’

  ‘Yes. He is right there.’

  ‘Yes. Where?’

  ‘Right there.’

  ‘Where?’

  Roy grits his teeth, aims and fires an arrow that flies an inch from the back of Maddox’s head to hit an infected further back. ‘There…see him.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes I have him now. Indeed.’

  Reginald watches the young man and marks the position before seeking out the others. He finds Clarence first and works from the big man to the others before trying to spot Maddox again. ‘Ah, afraid I lost him again, Roy.’

  Roy fires again. Another arrow goes in inch past Maddox’s head making the man look round with a confused glance.

  ‘Ah yes, I have him now,’ Reginald says, his hands once again behind his back. It really does give a commanding view from up he
re. He can see the whole fight taking place. There’s Howie doing his thing right there. Very fast. Very fast indeed. Blowers and his team right there. Again very fast. Yes, very fluid. Organic almost. Now where was Maddox again? There he is. Oh yes. The difference is most noticeable. Maddox can fight and fight well but his speed is noticeably different to the rest. He spots Lilly at the far edge of the battle being protected by Dave and Mo. Something in that view sparks his interest. A large built male stands close to Lilly. Tanned and weathered, tough looking and covered in tattoos. A similarity to the other man nearby, then another and another. He counts them quickly, his eyes absorbing details that his brain breaks down to component parts in order to fully grasp the situation. He takes a step forward with sudden interest. Twelve men all of the same kind. All tanned. All weathered. All thick limbed and just ever so slightly different in a way that sets them apart. Some are fighting, some gather round Lilly and are clearly ready to do harm should the need arise. Those that fight are like Maddox. Tough and competent but they are not the same as Mr Howie and his group.

  He stands and watches closely. The intense danger of climbing the van now forgotten as his mind whirls with a hundred or more strands of thoughts. He takes it all in. The hosts. The changes in them. Maddox. The men near Lilly. All of it. The whole of it. The game at hand. He nods to himself as the plan forms and the way ahead starts to show itself.

  ‘Indeed,’ he mutters. ‘We shall be busy.’

  As the fight ends so Paco prowls the battlefield, staring down at his kills as though wishing they would rise so he can kill them again. His eyes as red as the infected but the intelligence and spark of life within him sets him apart. A groan sounds out. An infected male lifts his head. His body broken and ruined but his mind still filled with the urge to bite. He’s a big man too. Thick limbs and a solid torso that give weight to his form that is lifted with ease by a man that has no voice in his head telling him a thing cannot be done.

  The rest freeze. Staring over at Paco holding a fully-grown adult above his head with the power of his arms alone. A second frozen in time. An image seared into minds the same as when Charlie walked down the ruined street on Jess. An image that marks another twist in the journey.