by RR Haywood
The room lights to something beyond the spectrum of daylight. A flash of lightening that sears the image of every single detail of the room into his mind. It makes the darkness deeper. A second later the windows rattle in the frames as the thunder rolls and booms across the sky. Static electricity seems to grow in the room. The air becomes heavier and charged. He has a knife. He can cut her. He has a radio. He can call for help.
Either way, someone dies.
‘It’s Maddox…I need help…’
He waits for the death threats to come from Blowers. He waits while his brain tries to work an angle of him leaving before the others get here. He waits but nothing happens.
‘It’s Maddox…I need help…’
Nothing. He presses the button a few times listening to the click in his ear. ‘It’s Maddox, anyone hearing me?’
‘You’re Maddox?’ Julie asks in a strangely soft tone.
‘Yeah…It’s Maddox. Anyone there? Blowers?’
‘Maddox,’ Julie says, lifting her head despite the pain. A flash of lightning comes. A blinding explosion of silent light that makes them both blink. The thunder seems to come the very instant the lightening goes. A huge rolling beat of drums that echoes across the sky. ‘You have to cut me,’ she shouts to be heard with a voice that carries on shouting as the thunder stops.
‘Blowers, it’s Maddox…you hearing me?’
Still nothing. He gets to his feet and heads for the back door while pressing the button over and again.
‘Don’t go…’ Julie says in alarm.
‘Blowers…you there? It’s Maddox…anyone hear me?’
A crackle comes back. A burst hiss of static. He presses again, speaking again and waiting again. The same crackle comes through his ear. He goes further into the garden that switches for the blink of an eye to that light beyond daytime where the image is imprinted in his brain like a negative photo. Nothing comes back. Only a crackled hiss. He transmits again. He shouts over the boom of thunder and paces to the end while Julie screams his name in a voice that cuts off mid-way. He runs back in to see her straining in the grip of a contraction. Lightning strobes. Thunder booms. He goes back to watch that patch of hair but it still doesn’t move.
‘PUSH,’ he shouts. She grunts, straining and trying. ‘Come on…push…push…COME ON…’
Movement. Hardly noticeable but it moved. It turned but it hasn’t come out. An instinct tells him the baby is stuck. The force of pressure of the woman straining to push it out that makes the baby turn but not move down. Something must be stopping it. Maybe that cord, the umbilical cord, maybe that is wrapped or trapping the baby. What does he do? What can he do? He can’t cut her. Where would he cut? How deep? What if the knife nicks an artery?
She has to stop pushing. That instant fact follows the instinct.
‘Stop. Julie…stop pushing…JULIE…’
‘I can’t,’ she screams out in a voice broken and hoarse.
‘Stop, stop it…you got to stop.’
She breaks off, panting and gasping for air. Sweat pours down her face. The raging thirst is back and the pain makes her mind feel like she’s ready to pass out.
‘It’s Maddox…I need help…ROY? ROY?’
Still nothing save for the burst of static. He runs for the front door and starts slamming the bolts back and working the lock to get out into the deserted street. Gunfire in the distance. Several sets of automatic fire.
‘It’s Maddox…I need help…ROY?’ he spins round on the spot. His face a mask of furious thinking.
‘…fucking…ill you…ing prick…’
‘Blowers. I need help…there’s a woman…she’s giving birth but the baby is stuck…’
‘..dox..re you…’
‘Who’s that? It’s Maddox here. A woman is giving birth. The baby is stuck…’
Static bursts of broken transmission. Voices saying something but mangled and incoherent. Sheet lightening scorches the sky raising the sensation of static electric in the air and he feels the thunder in his bones. So low, deep and powerful. He risks running further up the street, pushing the button to transmit but getting the same mangled voices back.
The desperation mounts. He thinks fast. The woman and the baby will die if he does nothing. If he cuts the woman he also risks killing them both. Is cutting the only option? The baby is stuck. What’s making it be stuck? It could the cord thing. The head might be too big. Could an arm or leg be stuck somewhere preventing it coming out? Hospitals don’t cut women they pull the baby out with forceps. Forceps! He needs those. What are they? Like tongs? Pliers? That won’t work, he could kill the child. Hands then. He has to use his hands. He turns to run down the street back to the house as a chunk of brick on the wall behind blows out from the 5.56 mm round fired from the assault rifle further up the road.
‘COWARD…’
‘NO! Blowers no…’ Maddox drops down as he launches to the side. More rounds pepper the space he was standing in as Blowers runs down aiming towards him.
‘You fucking coward…’ Blowers seethes, he fumes, his mates are in the shit. His family is struggling and this worthless scumbag ran off after causing them grief all day. If Maddox gets away he could get to the fort before anyone else. He fires again. Single shots aimed into the dark shadows where Maddox ran. He spots the lad running to vault a wall into a garden and fires a burst before checking behind him. On hearing the transmissions of the others he ran faster and started making distance between him and the horde with the idea of losing them and working back to the town centre.
‘WOMAN’S GIVING…’
‘You’re a cunt but I never took you for a coward, Maddox…’
‘GIVING BIR…’ he cuts off as the rounds slam into the wall sending shards of brick flying past his face. He hunkers down and scrabbles further into the front garden as he looks to the locked front door of the dark house.
The lightening comes. Several individual sheets that strobe one after the other in a series of blinding bursts of energy. The thunder starts before the lightshow ends. Deep and furious as it matches the murderous intent on Blowers face. That he will kill Maddox is now fact. The man has been given every chance and he is too dangerous to be left.
‘MADDOX…’
A woman screams the name. A terrified wail of agony in a voice breaking off. Blowers snatches his head round in the direction it came from.
‘Who is that?’
‘WOMAN GIVING BIRTH,’ Maddox screams out.
‘MADDOX…’ Julie screams as the urges come back but Maddox said don’t push but her body is telling her to push. She looks round for a knife, intending to cut herself and make Maddox take her baby. The knives are in the drawer. She tries to move but screams out as the pain sears through her body. Teeth gritted, tears rolling and she starts inching to slide over with a hand reaching up towards the drawer handle.
‘What woman?’ Blowers asks, turning to look behind him again.
‘In there…in that house…the baby is stuck…won’t come out…’
Blowers strides down the middle of the road with the rifle wedged into his shoulder as he holds the aim to where he knows Maddox is. The fury is palpable. The desire to kill is real but the soldier in him stops the finger from pressing down as Maddox stands up with his hands raised.
‘Where’s your rifle?’
‘In the house with the woman…’
‘MADDOX…’
‘That’s her,’ Maddox says.
‘Does she know you?’
‘What?’
‘She knows your name. How does she know you?’
‘No! I told her my name…Blowers, the baby is stuck in her. It won’t come out…she’s bleeding to death…’
‘MADDOX…PLEASE come back…’ Julie screams out from the pain caused by reaching for the drawer. She almost got it but fell back from the surge of agony. She tries again, bracing and knowing her own pain means nothing.
Blowers thinks to shoot him now, check the woman and deal with whatev
er the situation is. A howl behind him. The infected still coming. His finger increases the pressure on the trigger. Maddox stiffens, sensing what’s about to happen.
‘Run…’ Blowers says in a growl.
‘What?’
‘Run. Fuck off…’
‘Blowers, she’s dying…’
‘I’ll sort it. Fuck off…go on…run…’
‘You’s got the things coming…how you gonna help her? Get Roy…Blowers, get Roy here…’
‘I said FUCK OFF NOW…’
‘I’ll cover you, Blowers. I’ll lead them away…you help her. You know that shit yeah? You did combat triage? The baby is stuck…it might be the cord or or…I thought forceps but…have to use hands, she said to cut but she could die and the knife could cut the baby but she can’t push cos the head turned but didn’t come out and…’
Blowers can see the passion in him, the genuine worry and emotion playing out in his voice and facial expressions. Maddox implores him to help her. He’s connected now. He saw the baby’s head. He saw it move. He has to help it.
‘I’ll take them away,’ Maddox urges. ‘You’s help her…get Roy yeah? Get Paula here, Blowers. She’s dying…’
‘Show me.’
‘Ain’t time,’ Maddox states.
‘Got about thirty seconds. Show me.’
‘Blowers, we ain’t got…’
‘SHOW ME OR I WILL SHOOT YOU NOW.’
‘Okay…in that house…look right there…I’ll come over…’ he scrabbles to clamber the wall with his hands still raised.
‘Pistol off your belt on the floor, hold it by the top…point it this way and you will die.’
‘WE DON’T HAVE TIME…’
‘PISTOL. NOW…’
‘Fuck it,’ Maddox rarely swears. Swearing is a sign of low intelligence and a common trait used by people who cannot otherwise express themselves but right now swearing is the only vent he has. He slides the pistol out by the top and bends quickly to place it on the floor.
‘Move,’ Blowers says, stepping backwards to let Maddox go past. The screeches and howls behind him sound closer. The horde closing the distance he created. The sound of feet running. Maddox moves fast. His hands away from his body as he runs to the door and stops to make sure Blowers is following him. Blowers does follow and he goes with a fast stride and his rifle still held aimed and ready.
‘Down here,’ Maddox says.
Blowers left hand drops to his pocket. He pulls his torch, pushes the end and brings his hand back under the rifle as he lights the path ahead of him. In through the front door and the metallic tang of blood hangs in the air. Other smells too. Sweat, urine and shit.
‘No!’ Maddox runs fast seeing Julie pull the drawer to the floor scattering knives. She grabs a handle and sinks back with the blade aimed at her belly as Maddox rushes to grip her wrists. ‘No don’t…Julie don’t…my mate’s here, he’s a soldier yeah…he can help you…let go, let go, Julie…’
Blowers takes it in. A rapid assessment that clocks the rifle propped up against the side and the floor now littered with knives. He sees the woman’s huge stomach and the blood between her legs. He sees her face in the torchlight and notices how dehydrated she looks. He sees it all quickly and calmly.
‘Look,’ Maddox says, ditching the knife taken from her hands and motioning to Blowers. ‘See the head yeah? That’s the head…she’s pushing but it’s not coming out…it’s stuck…I saw it turn round so…so something is holding it in…’
‘Hold,’ Blowers cuts in and drops his left hand holding the torch to the radio switch under his shirt. ‘It’s Blowers. Receiving me?’
‘I tried that…it didn’t work…’
‘Blowers? You okay?’ Howie’s rushed voice, frantic and filled with background noise of death and war and infected screeching.
‘Got a woman. Giving birth. Baby stuck. Roy? Advice please…’
‘Can you see the baby?’ Roy pauses between shots, his mind running fast as he summons the mental image.
‘See the head…the top of it,’ Blowers says, his voice calm, his manner calm, his whole bearing one of professionalism in the face of adversity.
‘How long has she been in labour?’
‘How long she been in labour?’ Blowers asks.
‘Hours…Julie? You said hours right?’
‘Yeah…I gotta push, Maddox. I got to push…’
‘Don’t push…not yet…’
‘Roy, she said hours.’
‘Is there blood?’
‘Loads.’
‘Could be the cord wrapped round the baby holding it in…or the head could be too big to get through the birthing canal…could be that and the baby is facing down towards the mothers back which is the wrong way…’
‘Orders?’ Blowers asks.
‘Christ,’ Roy says, holding his bow in his left hand while trying to think. Nick grunts from somewhere behind him while fighting desperately against numbers that keep coming. Below Roy, the battle hasn’t changed. The ground is thick with corpses. The air stinks of blood. The heat is awful. The whole of it is the closest they are to losing yet. Smoke is billowing from the shopping centre from the ceiling tiles that caught aflame from the cans of ignited hairspray. Mo fires and fires at the door. The waves of infected are relentless. Behind him, Marcy and Paula wage war on the spiders. There is no way out. The only exit is through the door that is jammed with infected. The closest they are to dying is now. The closest they are to losing is now. The complacency of their actions. The pride that they were undefeatable comes down as crushing as the pressure of the storm brewing overhead.
Charlie reins Jess in and looks down at Cookey and Blinky soaked with sweat and covered in grime. Jess’s flanks gleam with sweat, blood and gore. Behind them the trail of corpses mark their passage but more are coming. More than three can deal with. All they can do is fight and run and try to keep them away from the middle.
Blowers closes his eyes for a second. The second’s worth of pause from Roy tells him how desperate it is and the closest they are to losing is now.
Roy looks down at Howie, Clarence and Dave. That those three are still standing is beyond human comprehension. They’ve killed more than everyone else combined but the infection has resources that make his insides drop. He looks down the street to the solid ranks. He looks behind him to see Nick fighting at the stairs and makes eye contact with Reginald. They had a plan a few seconds ago. Heather and Paco were going to the back doors of the shopping centre to cut the flow. That would free Mo, Paula and Marcy to join the main fight. The lads would work back and they would, as they have always done, turn the battle and win but suddenly it doesn’t look like that. Suddenly the hope dwindles but Howie kills the one in front, turns and locks eyes on Roy to give a single nod. ‘DO IT…’ Howie shouts and turns back into the fight.
Roy presses the button on his radio to do what must be done. Howie cannot give orders as Howie is busy. The same with Clarence. The same with Paula. Roy is older, therefore he takes the burden of responsibility and makes the order.
‘Heather, Charlie…go to Blowers…Blowers, hands in and try to pull the baby out gently. If you have to cut her then go from the stomach down…the mother will die if you cut but the baby is the priority…’
It is the only option. Without Paco here the chances of winning are gone. Without Paco storming into that shopping centre they can’t free the three inside but a baby is worth more than all of them. They all know it. It is their way. It is the right way. He releases the radio, draws an arrow and fires.
Cookey draws the back of a hand across his forehead, his chest heaving as he sucks air and looks up at Charlie. ‘Take Blinky…get to Blowers…’
‘But…’ Charlie says, knowing Cookey doesn’t stand a chance against so many.
‘I’ll be fine…I’ll keep running,’ Cookey says.
‘I’ll stay, you go,’ Blinky says.
‘Mate,’ Cookey snaps.
‘I’m fitter…I c
an run faster and further…you go…go with Charlie…’
‘She is,’ Charlie says quickly.
The thought of leaving Blinky alone is abhorrent but it makes sense, ‘you got enough magazines?’ Cookey asks.
‘Yep now fuck off cuntbreath,’ Blinky says, nodding at him, her own chest heaving as the sweat pours down her face.
‘Just keep running,’ Cookey says, locking eyes.
‘I will…fuck off,’ Blinky snorts, phlegms and spits to the side.
‘Hate you,’ Cookey says, his filthy face showing the grin.
‘Hate you more,’ Blinky grins back.
‘Here,’ Charlie offers a hand to help Cookey heave up behind. Jess skitters round at the extra weight. ‘Hold on,’ Charlie says. Cookey holds on without a joke and without a comment made.
‘Run Blinky…don’t try and fight them…’ Cookey shouts.
‘Yep,’ Blinky says.
‘ON JESS,’ Charlie screams the horse to action.
‘Mate, it’s Cookey…where are you?’
‘Blowers? It’s Heather…we’ll come to you…where are you?’
Heather grips the wheel with her right hand. The left holds the radio. Paco clenches his fists and readies to fight simply from sensing the tension in Heather. She drives fast through the lanes as the lightning and thunder drive fear deep into her gut but for the first time in her life she refuses to allow the panic to take over. The desperation is obvious. The energy she can feel is right there. The words, the way they were said, the honour of them, the sheer fucking integrity of a few that do something so vast it boggles the mind.
Blowers turns to look down the hallway. A soldier born. A soldier made. A soldier by definition of the core of steel running through his body. How do people find each other in a dark town in the middle of a war? Satnav? Maps? Directions? Fuck that. He’ll do it the soldiers way. He’ll go old school.
‘Hands in…try and ease the baby out, it should be face up not face down but go gently though…Roy said gently. He said the cord could be wrapped and if you have to cut then do it from the stomach down…’
‘Where you going?’ Maddox asks as Blowers strides off down the hallway.
‘The others are coming. You’ll be fine.’