by Fleet, Ricky
Sarah took the knife and stepped into the shower. Pressing the point to the ceiling, she was surprised how easily it pierced the plasterboard. Within a minute, she had cut the hole and took the section down, brushing white powder that had fallen onto her arms.
Sam and Braiden joined them downstairs. John positioned the boys so that all entrances were visible and any signs of movement would be picked up immediately and they could retreat. John took his time. Instead of hammering the jemmy bar into the gaps, he gradually worked them in, pressing a little each time, until they came away from their support. Each time a nail squealed in protest as it was pulling loose, he stopped and waited for the boys to give him the all clear. It was a painstaking process. Sarah waited to take each piece as John handed them up. She had already taken the ladders from the attic hatch and had them ready to drop down to them if the worst should happen. What had taken Kurt a few minutes in their own home, took John forty five. Finally they were clear, and the ladders were lowered in place of the old staircase.
“Grandad, shall we take a look around while it’s still safe?” Sam asked. John was initially reluctant, but all was calm, the milling dead had paid no attention to the house. Instead, they just wandered around in the front and rear garden aimlessly.
“Ok, but keep low and stay quiet, anything useful we will take to the stairs and your mum can collect it, is that ok?” John looked up to Sarah, who was already positioning to come down the ladder.
They dispersed and searched, always watchful of the windows and the dead who stood only feet from them. More food was taken. Perishables were ignored. Canned, dried and frozen foods were placed upstairs. They searched the cupboards and found more candles, batteries, and a handheld windup radio, which would come in handy if they had to vacate the home. The furniture and other items were left behind. John found a smaller imitation of the workshop that was upstairs, in the utility room. It had a vice and grinding wheel bolted to the worktop and more tools hung in neat rows on the walls. The owner had even painted the outline of each piece of equipment on the wall, to make it easier for them to find their place. Under the counter were boxes of chains and coils of rope, this was taken and passed upstairs. Time was passing fast, but the two heavy pieces of equipment would be invaluable so he decided to try and remove them.
“Can you all keep quiet again? I need you to watch and listen while I try and unbolt these.” John pointed at the vice and wheel. They all nodded and moved off, taking positions once again.
John took the socket set from the wall and selected the correct size. Kneeling down, he carefully undid each nut and bolt and put them in his pocket. It was going so well, he was sure their luck would run out soon, so he redoubled his efforts. The zombies were completely oblivious to the work they were doing and the equipment was soon sat on the upper landing. The tools could wait for now. All the while the house held they could collect them later. Besides, Kurt possessed most of them already, but it would pay to have spares, John thought.
They all relaxed once the ladders had been pulled up, the tension not becoming apparent until it was over and they were out of harm’s way. “Let’s get this stuff up there. Sam, Braiden, jump up and Mum and I will pass it up, it will be much quicker,” John directed.
In the same way that he had got the vice upstairs, he hefted it onto his shoulder with a grunt, the lump of iron digging painfully into his shoulder bone. It had to weigh fifty pounds at least. It was a proper engineer’s vice, not the flimsy DIY versions. John climbed the first two ladder steps and the boys reached down, took the weight and pulled it up out of the way. The rest of the goods took no time at all to move. They were soon back in the warmth of the master bedroom. Gloria was busy warming pans of water and pouring them into an empty bucket.
Kurt had been thinking while they were away, “Is it really wise to be using our drinking water to shower with? It seems a real waste when we could just use a flannel in the sink.”
John had been swayed by Gloria’s earlier speech, thought he had been thinking along different lines. “It is a waste in some ways, yes. We still have flowing water for now, though. A warm shower is not really necessary, but how much will it keep our spirits up? How did you all react earlier at the idea?” They all smiled. It was true; the mere thought of it enough to lift their mood.
“And when it runs out?” Kurt was being contrary, he was feeling useless and it was making him miserable. John had already planned a solution.
“When the water stops we still have rain, don’t we? This is England. Rain is about all we can rely on. We will cut into the down spout that runs alongside the balcony and drill it into the bathroom next door. It won’t be ideal for drinking but it will be a self-replenishing water supply for us to wash and clean with,” John explained and Kurt agreed grudgingly, he always had the right answer.
“So, who’s first?” Gloria asked, causing heated arguments and laughter as they vied for the first spot.
“I think it’s only fair that the chef goes first. After all, she has been keeping us all warm and fed.” John put forward and none argued, except Gloria herself.
“No, don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine,” she protested. It was a unanimous verdict and she was overruled by the others.
While John carried the warm water to the end house, Gloria borrowed a jumper, pair of jeans and clean underwear from Sarah. She found John drilling a few small holes into the bottom of the bucket that he had positioned over the hole in the ceiling. He turned and saw her approach, the torch beam flickering back and forth.
“It’s all ready for you. The water won’t be cascading down. I have only put a few holes in the bucket, any more and the water will disappear in no time. If you climb down and give me a holler when you are ready, I will tip the warm water in. The stairs are safe, but I will still come down and keep watch. Don’t think my intentions are anything other than honourable,” he smiled.
“Thank you, kind sir. As a lady of fine breeding, my dignity is my most valuable asset.” She laughed and descended the ladder.
Minutes later, she called and John duly poured the warm, steaming water into the new shower bucket. The faint pitter patter of the water was silenced when Gloria stood under it and began washing. John climbed down and kept watch, concerned the noise of the water could draw attention. It didn’t, however, and Gloria stepped from the bathroom, clean and invigorated.
“Thank you for keeping watch,” Gloria said, before pecking him on the cheek.
One by one, they all used the new facility, even Kurt was helped by Sarah to shower. They had bandaged his ankle tightly and he slowly hopped on his good leg, while John and Sam supported him. The act of taking a warm shower made them buoyant and elevated the mood of the group, the earlier depression forgotten. The simple task of washing was time and labour intensive, no longer a quick press of a button under a shower head. It was late afternoon by the time they settled down to Gloria’s famous cooking. She had boiled some rice and they had the remaining stew poured on top. It was delicious. The new life they were leading gave them a much greater respect for the basic necessities.
The group sat and ate. They talked about better times and better places. Gloria recounted some of the holidays she and her husband had taken, the strange and wonderful cultures she had experienced as they travelled the world. It was bittersweet; the reason they could afford to travel was their lack of children and, up to this point, she didn’t really have anyone to tell of their adventures.
John had left them for a while, sitting and watching the windows of the ‘mystery house’ as it was now known. He was conflicted about his feelings for Gloria. They were both in their early sixties, widowed and they had been thrown together by the most horrific events. This was neither the time, nor place for complications. However, he still couldn’t stop the first faint flutters in his chest and the tingle of anticipation that he felt when she smiled. When they had first met, she had been the teacher, prim and proper, hair tied in an extreme bun. But this
was just a façade she projected, and it became apparent to them all that she cared deeply about everyone. Even her hard attitude in the classroom was designed to push her students to their full potential. After showering, her hair hung wet around her shoulders, the smell of her fresh, clean skin still lingered with him from the kiss on the cheek.
“Stupid old man,” he told himself quietly. BUT THERE! He saw it! Fingers had pulled the curtain back a couple of inches and had then withdrawn. He nearly missed it when his mind had wandered. He ran back into the bedroom to tell them the news.
“There are people across the road, I’ve just seen them.”
Kurt sat up in bed, “Are you sure? How many?”
“I could only see one hand, but there could be more. Can you remember who lived there?” John asked. They racked their brains, but came up with nothing, the door was always closed and they couldn’t recall seeing anyone come and go. There was a rear entrance that led to a small carpark, which was most likely why they had remained unseen.
The air was full of excitement and tension, it was almost palpable. The proximity of other survivors had given them all hope. Maybe there were a lot more in the surrounding area. Things may not be as dire as they had first thought. Now they had to think of a way of communicating and reaching them.
John started pacing, they were all thinking hard to find solutions. “So what do we know? They are attracted to noise and activity, that’s why they have been left alone,” he pointed at the wall in the direction of the house. “We have well over a hundred in the area, with yet more of them directly between us in the street. It is still out of the question.”
They thought on this. It was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to do anything, but they had to try.
“They will probably be ok for a while if they lay low. I expect they have some food and water, but if they lack the ideas to take advantage of the surrounding homes, they won’t last long. I’ve not seen any signs of smoke from the chimneys, so they are in the cold, which won’t help,” Kurt added, realising how lucky they were.
“So, we can agree that there is a good window for coming up with a safe plan. There is no need to go off half cocked.” Gloria was the voice of sense and reason.
“The biggest problem is going out in the street because of the zombies. Ok, we reduce the number.” Sam hit the nail on the head, how did the phrase go? Out of the mouths of babes? It was simple in theory, but how could they possibly do it?
“I have the slingshot,” Braiden offered. “There are hundreds of steel bearings.”
“That’s good, we can pick them off from a distance, but the accuracy may be an issue.” John was wondering what else could be used. “Maybe we could use the concrete blocks and throw them down?”
“It would be a waste Dad. We only have about fifty of them. How about we make more spears like that?” Kurt pointed into the corner where the washed, iron pipe spear stood.
“I don’t think so, they would be too awkward to use from a window,” John replied. An idea came to him. “Hang on. We don’t necessarily need to use a window. Why don’t we do it from the attic? I can take some roof tiles out and it will give us an excellent vantage point.”
“They will be too heavy for us. Each one would need to be at least fifteen feet long…” Kurt mulled on this.
“Maybe not, what else can you do with spears?” John asked.
Kurt was confused. “Well, throw them, but then they are wasted?” He couldn’t see the point.
“Why don’t we bolt chains through each one? That way we can pull them back up each time. We found some rope and chain in the end house.” It was starting to come together in Johns mind. Kurt had seen a dangerous flaw in the plan.
“That’s a good idea, but what is to stop them from pulling you down with the chain?”
“Easy, we bolt it to the roof trusses. There’s a fixed point at both ends that way. And I can fix some timbers in place to prevent us falling, yet still giving us full scope to attack them.” They gave this some more thought, only the crackle of the fire interrupting the quiet.
“I think it might work! It’s going to be a long, slow process. It will be exhausting, throwing and pulling the iron tubing over and over again.” Kurt still doubted.
John rolled his sleeve up and flexed his bicep, it was very impressive for his age and Kurt couldn’t help but notice the look that Gloria gave him. Sam followed suit, as did Braiden, all showing off their little muscles.
Kurt and Sarah laughed. “Well it’s not like we’ve got anything else to do, is it?” she said.
They had a plan, it may not work, but at least they would be occupied for the next few days. The feeling of striking a blow for humanity would be good for their souls.
“There’s one major problem,” Kurt told them and pointed at the window. They didn’t follow his reasoning. “Without sunshine we will have very little power to make them. We still need to bring the cable through from Chris’s house.”
“I think we would be better off making the stuff in the end attic, there are benches that we can use to bolt the vice and grinder down to. We will run a cable both ways, one for the tools and one for the appliances.” John moved off, ready to get started.
“One thing Dad, I think we need to pull the main company fuses, or it might bleed back into the power grid. If we break the connection, the power will stay within our circuits. There’s only one big problem with that,” Kurt looked at the floor. “Our fuse is down there.”
“Does it need to be pulled out or can it be broken? We could just cut a hole in the floor and poke it to death,” Gloria suggested.
Kurt and John looked at each other, “I think that would work, it wouldn’t matter as the circuit is still intact,” said Kurt. “Let’s get to it.” He swung his legs round and made to stand up, but Sarah was there again to stop him.
“You still need to rest that ankle. The shower was hard enough on you,” Sarah scolded him.
“I know exactly where it is honey, I can get it cut and broken a lot quicker. You can help me get to the spot on the landing that sits over the fuse cupboard. Dad, be careful in Chris’s, pull it and get out. We can run the cable from any of the sockets upstairs.”
Sarah helped him rise and John made his way to the attic, a job to be done fast and quietly. He took two extension leads with him to plug in and run to the house and attic workshop. They reached the right spot and Kurt carefully lowered himself, slipping the ankle out sideways to prevent a knock. Sarah brought him a box cutter knife and he cut a small section of carpet and pulled it back, revealing the boards below. Without power, he could either smash a hole with a hammer, or use a special floorboard saw to cut it out which would take a while. He opted to do it the right way, a hole in the floor was a needlessly dangerous thing to leave on the landing. He didn’t want his ankle injury to happen to the others.
By the time Kurt finished, John had returned from Chris’s house and had run the extension leads to their destinations. Kurt was sweating, the awkward angle and the depth of the wood made the job much harder than it could have been. He pulled the board out and looked down into the floor void, dust and cobwebs littered the upper side of the downstairs ceiling. He took his iron spear from his wife and carefully broke through into the cupboard. The door had been removed and he was greeted by the face of a young male zombie, it could have only been twelve years old when it died. Kurt was grateful that it was not damaged on the upper extremities, no gore was visible, just a chalk white face and look of intense hatred and yearning. It reached for him.
Kurt did his best to ignore the child corpse. He could see the fuse, but every time he got close to the target, the child’s flailing limbs caught the pipe and knocked it clear. After the sixth attempt, his patience was at an end. He lined up the tube and rammed it down. It pierced through the forehead in a splash of green, rotting blood and the child crumpled to the ground. Kurt wasted no time and jabbed at the fuse, breaking the case and knocking it clear where it fell
onto the chest of the new corpse. It was good timing, another zombie had noticed the movement and came to investigate and tried to grasp the pole as it was being withdrawn. This one was not in such a good state. The flesh was nearly liquid where decomposition had set in, maggots and other crawling creatures moved within the orifices that were visible, the companions of the grave. The putrid, sweet smell was drawn up and into his nostrils and it was only their growing familiarity with this new fragrance that prevented him vomiting the eggs up all over it. He replaced the board and carpet, putting from view the rotting cadaver.
“What is it honey?” Sarah asked, seeing the paleness in his face.
“It’s nothing,” he lied. He didn’t want to dwell on it.
She helped him stand up and led him back to bed where he slumped. Looking up at the ceiling, he found it hard to not imagine the child zombie. It was someone’s son, were his parents dead too? In a way he wished they were, the grief and pain that they would feel would be devastating. He would die if anything ever happened to his family. He’d join the ranks of the zombie horde with no hesitation, wandering the world with his loved ones, hungering together. John entered the room and took his attention away from the introspection he was engaged in.
“The cables are in and turned on, I’ve tried the fridge but it sounds sluggish. I’m not sure if the changing voltage will damage it but we have to wait and see. I’ll plug it back in mid-morning and let it run until the afternoon.”
With the fading light, nothing remained to be done. Dinner was prepared and eaten and plans were made for the coming day. They cut the sections of tube to length, ensuring they were light enough to throw, but heavy enough to cause deadly damage to the waiting skulls below. They chose not to hammer it flat at night, instead they would do all the noisy work at one time and try to minimise the attraction for more walking dead. Goodnights were said, the fire was built to provide heat through the night and more hugs than normal were given. They were much more touchy-feely now Kurt had noticed, seeming to draw strength from the contact. He knew he did as well. They slept.