by RR Haywood
‘Lot of tax on fuel,’ Mo Mo chuckles, ‘we used to get red from the farm machines out of town.’
‘What?’ I ask and walk closer to see the bucket filling with red liquid, ‘is that not diesel?’
‘Red diesel,’ Nick says, ‘tax exempt or fucking low tax or something, it’s meant for farm machinery and plant stuff, these buggers were using it for their recovery vehicle.’
‘And that’s not allowed?’
‘No, tax man would go nuts,’ Nick laughs, ‘like really heavy fines and shit.’
‘Customs people came to the estate once,’ Mo Mo says with a grin, ‘they wanted to dip some tanks.’
‘Did they?’ Nick asks.
‘Nah,’ Mo Mo laughs, ‘their van got stoned and they called the police who said they were too busy to come so they’s fucked off.’
‘Will it still work in the Saxon?’ I ask with concern.
‘It’s normal diesel,’ Marcy says from behind me, ‘just with dye in it.’
‘Is that right?’ I ask Nick.
‘Really?’ Marcy says.
‘Well I don’t know,’ I say hotly.
‘You’ve never heard of red diesel before?’ She asks.
‘No, Marcy. I haven’t. I worked in Tesco and didn’t have a car.’
‘I worked in a hotel and I didn’t have a car but I’ve heard of red diesel.’
‘Good for you. Well done.’
‘Oh here we go, Mr Howie getting snappy again.’
‘Only with you.’
‘Hungry!’ Paula says in a curt tone.
‘Sorry, Paula,’ Marcy says before I can apologise.
The bucket is filled then carried over and poured carefully into the fuel opening of the Saxon.
‘Mr Howie, can you check the gauge please?’ Nick asks.
‘Aye, on it,’ I head round and clamber up to see the dials, ‘yeah almost full. Load up, we’ll go for the main square.’
They climb in. I pull off. A minute later we stop and they all get back out again into the bog standard village square complete with a nice big monument in the middle and some benches. Boutique shops border the edges. A florist. Pharmacy. Cake shop. Newsagents and a few antique style things, oh and the hairdressers.
‘Doesn't look too bad,’ I turn round to see only the newsagents window has been smashed through. The rest look mostly intact and the bodies lying about are actually reassuring as it means the infection hit this place instead of them all being locked up in someone’s garage or shed.
Dave heads to the obvious start point of the newsagents and sticks his head through the broken window.
‘Empty,’ he says walking back.
‘Right, houses then. Listen, we might as well split up. It seems safe here…anyone got any objections? We stay within the square and check the flats above the shops and the houses for food in kitchens. I know we said we’re not splitting up but we’ll be within earshot of each other. Everyone okay with that?’
Nods all round and I rub my stomach at the audible gurgling sounding from it.
‘Blowers, you take the lads. Paula and Roy…er…Clarence you take Dave and Reginald and…shit…’
‘Messed that one up,’ Marcy smiles nastily, ‘go on, change your mind.’
‘No. That’s the teams,’ I say stubbornly but feeling like a complete prick for putting myself with Marcy.’
‘I’ll go with Clarence and Dave can stay with you,’ she says.
‘I will stay with Clarence,’ Dave says which makes everyone turn to stare at him. He shows no reaction and doesn't offer an explanation but the sting is there.
‘Okay,’ I say while Clarence raises his eyebrows in surprise, ‘er…any reason, Dave?’ I ask carefully.
‘Yes, Mr Howie.’
‘…Right, and that reason is what?’
‘You are bickering and that is not good for moral. You should work together to resolve your conflict.’
‘Ask a question,’ I blush at his rebuke, ‘that’s er…sorry, everyone. Sorry about that. I’m hungry and…’
‘We’re all hungry,’ Dave says forcing the point even further.
‘Yep, very true. Anyway,’ I pause at noticing the smile on Paula’s face and the lads avoiding eye contact with me, ‘Marcy? Okay with you?’
‘Of course,’ she says politely, ‘and I’m sorry too,’ she adds quietly.
‘Er…any issues and just shout…um…off you go then,’ I add a shooing motion with my hands which just makes me want to fall down and die from shame.
‘Lads,’ Paula says as they start to walk off, ‘you do that side, we’ll do this one…Clarence you okay doing that side and er…Mr Howie, the side behind you? Is that okay?’
‘All good,’ I say quickly and watch as they break away, ‘oh god that was awful,’ I groan once they’re out of earshot.
‘Even Dave is blowing you out now,’ she says quickly then holds a hand up, ‘sorry, bad joke…’
‘Fuck’s sake, Marcy. We just got told off for doing that.’
‘Couldn’t help it,’ she says defensively, ‘you were wide open.’
‘Yeah like….’
‘Stop it.’
‘But you said one so I should be able to say one back.’
‘We’re not in a playground, Howie.’
‘Feels like it.’
‘Fine. Go on then.’
‘What?’
‘Say your joke so we’re even and then we can both be mature.’
‘…’
‘Well go on then.’
‘No. It won’t be funny now.’
‘It wouldn’t have been funny anyway.’
‘Would have,’ I state confidently, ‘with timing and delivery.’
‘Would you like me to laugh when you say it? Would that make you feel better?’
‘I’m hungry,’ I say with my chin out before I turn and head off.
‘Wrong way.’
‘What?’
‘That’s Clarence’s side…we’re this side.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’
‘Seriously, Howie. How have you stayed alive this long?’
‘Dunno…’ I walk past then stop to look at her, ‘longer than you lasted though,’ I add spitefully and instantly regret it.
She blanches and goes to retort but stops herself and walks past me, which just makes me feel even worse.
We walk in silence. Marcy empty handed and me with the assault rifle in one hand and my axe in the other.
‘Marcy.’
‘What?’ She stops and turns.
‘You’re not armed.’
‘You are,’ she says bluntly.
‘You should be armed,’ I put the assault rifle and axe down before undoing the belt holding the pistol.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like?’ I say fumbling with the buckle.
‘I don’t want your gun.’
‘You should be armed.’
‘You’re armed,’ she replies.
‘Yes and if something happens to me how you going to defend yourself?’
‘I…’
‘And then stop the bad thing from getting to the others? What if they get in trouble and I can’t respond?’
‘Fine,’ she holds a hand out to take the belt as I hand it over. She tugs it round her hips and goes to fasten the buckle at the front, ‘it’s too big,’ she drops down to adjust the size while I tap my foot and sigh, ‘it’s too big!’
‘I heard you.’
‘Stop tapping and sighing then.’
‘I sighed once.’
‘Once is enough.’
‘Done now?’
She pulls it back on and fastens the buckle in place, ‘happy now?’
‘Not really.’
‘Why?’
‘How you going to pull the gun out?’
‘What?’ She looks down at her right hip then twists round trying to see the pistol hanging down her backside. She tuts and starts trying to pull it round but
the angle makes the belt bunch up instead.
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ she says between gritted teeth.
‘Come here.’
‘I can do it!’
‘You’ll be there all day, let me pull it round.’
‘I said I can do it.’
‘I’m hungry and want to eat.’
‘Fine.’
‘Thank you,’ I snap and move in to grasp the holster and start trying to tug it round, ‘it’s all caught up now,’ I say testily, ‘fuck’s sake,’ I take the pistol out and hand it to Marcy, ‘hold that,’ she takes the gun while I work at the holster and start inching it round to her side, ‘don’t shoot me,’ I add.
‘Thought never crossed my mind.’
‘Yeah right, done it.’
‘Thanks, how does it work?’
‘I thought Clarence showed you.’
‘Only the rifle. Forget it, I’ll ask him later.’
‘No we’ll do it now, here,’ I take the pistol from her hand and eject the magazine before sliding the top back to make sure no rounds are in the chamber.
‘Safety is here…see it…’
‘Yes.’
‘Magazine goes in and pushed home, slide the top back and that takes the top bullet into the chamber for firing.’
‘The chamber?’
‘This bit, the long bit…where the bullet is held before it comes out the pointy end.’
‘I was only asking.’
‘And I was only saying. Just point and shoot. It recoils a bit so hold it firm and away from your face.’
‘Okay.’
‘And don’t shoot yourself.’
‘You’d love that wouldn’t you?’
‘Mind you, if you didn’t do it before then why would you now?’ I ram the magazine in and slide the top back before handing the pistol over, ‘it’s ready to fire and the safety is on.’
‘On?’
‘Yes on. The safety is on. Push the safety off and you can shoot things.’
‘Tempting,’ she says with a quick narrowing of her eyes.
‘You had that chance,’ I narrow my own eyes and stare back.
‘When was that again?’ She asks, ‘remind me? Oh was that when you dry humped my leg?’
‘I did not…you know what…I’m hungry and…’
‘So let’s go then,’ she goes to push the pistol into the holster, misses and drops it to the floor. I sigh and manage a quick foot tap before she grabs it and gets it into the holster.
A quick glare at me and we start off towards our side while I listen to the bangs and smashes of doors being kicked and windows being broken from the other sides.
‘Start at the end,’ I point to the first house in the row of terraced cottages.
‘As you say, Mr Howie.’
‘Don’t start.’
‘It’s not a start it’s a continuation of before and I wasn’t doing anything, I was being polite.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Is it locked?’
‘Oh let me try my x-ray vision,’ I stop and make a point of staring at the front door still a few feet away.
‘Such a child,’ she huffs and strides past me and grabs the handle.
‘No!’ Dropping my axe I rush forward and pull her to the side as she pushes the door open. She turns at being grabbed and we end up face to face with me glaring angrily.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says quickly and genuinely, ‘I didn’t think.’
‘Switch on,’ I snap, ‘anything could have been behind that door.’
‘You’re right, sorry,’ she looks deep into my eyes then blinks and looks away which makes me realise I’m still stood pretty much pressing against her. I pull back and aim the weapon into the doorway and the empty hall beyond.
‘I’ll get your axe,’ she brushes past me, ‘sorry.’
‘You said sorry already.’
‘For brushing past you.’
‘Oh…wait here,’ I push the door open fully and step inside. A door to the right into the front room. I step in and scan quickly, ‘clear,’ through the front room to the dining room at the back then through the connecting door into the kitchen and back down the hallway, ‘ground floor is clear, I’ll check upstairs.’
‘Okay,’ she nods and hesitates, ‘can I come in now or…’
‘Best wait until I’ve checked upstairs…the front door was unlocked so…’
‘I er, I should imagine that’s pretty normal for a little village like this.’
‘Probably,’ I mount the stairs and head up to check the two bedrooms and bathroom at the top, ‘clear,’ I call down.
‘I’ll check the kitchen,’ I hear her footsteps head down the corridor. The cottage is immaculately clean. Some dust from over two weeks of being empty but other than that it looks so nice and homely. The bedrooms have a double bed in each with white sheets and blankets instead of duvets and the sheets are folded back smartly with crisp clean pillows. The bathroom is the same and only one toothbrush in the holder.
‘Anything?’ I head down the stairs and into the kitchen to find the small table in the centre being stacked with tins from the cupboards.
‘I love old people,’ she says, ‘they keep everything.’
‘Fuck yes!’ I rifle through the tins finding tinned fruit, baked beans, corned beef, spam, mushy peas, ravioli and all manner of goodies.
‘Pasta,’ she plonks a sealed bag down on the table, ‘ketchup…salad cream…oh my god!’
‘What?’
‘Penguins,’ she turns with a big grin holding a multipack of the chocolate bars.
‘Seriously?’ I ask stupidly at the sight.
‘Hang on,’ she rips open the outer pack and pulls one free to hand over, ‘eat something.’
‘We’ll take them all back for the others…’
‘Howie, eat,’ she says with a firm nod.
‘Okay, you have one too.’
‘I can wait…’
‘No both of us,’ I say as firmly as she told me.
We open the little bars and stare longingly at the chocolate, ‘fast or slow?’ She says then looks up to see I’ve shoved mine in whole and already munching away.
‘Howie!’
‘What?’ I try and say but my mouth explodes with the taste and texture of real food and the word comes out muffled.
She shrugs and bites hers in half. With her eyes closed she moans softly, ‘couldn’t find any chocolate before.’
‘None?’ I ask somewhat mesmerised at the sight of her eating with her eyes closed. Seemingly aware and she opens them quickly to catch me looking so I turn away and start going through the tins again.
‘Why do you hate me?’
‘You know why.’
‘Why were you looking at me like that?’
I shrug and wipe my mouth. The biscuit was lovely but it’s only made the hunger worse, ‘I’m hungry,’ I say without looking at her, ‘I was just staring…that’s all.’
‘Oh, I thought I had chocolate on my mouth,’ she says in such a way that it makes me realise she really did think she had food on her mouth and now I’ve just admitted to staring at her.
‘Any bags?’
‘Mr Howie?’
‘In here,’ I drop the tin and charge towards the door as Mo Mo comes running in, ‘what’s up?’
‘We’ve found loads,’ he says with a grin, ‘everyone has…’
‘Nice, mate,’ I say with relief at thinking something had happened, ‘we’ve got loads in here. Tell everyone to eat what they can now then meet back in the middle…Mo Mo!’
‘Sorry,’ he turns back from already having started to run off.
‘Tell them to leave their doors open so we know which house they’re in and we meet back at the Saxon in one hour. Got it?’
‘Got it.’
‘You can go now, Mo Mo.’
‘Okay,’ he grins and runs off as I turn back to the kitchen and let a deep sigh of air out.
‘You moved so fast then,’ Ma
rcy says.
‘I thought something had happened.’
‘No, the way you moved…from there,’ she points at the table, ‘to there in a split second.’
I shrug and move to the gas stove in the vain hope the gas will still be on, ‘did you find any coffee?’
‘Coffee? I wasn’t looking for coffee.’
I stare down at the gas rings and offer a prayer to the God of coffee that this place will have a special supply of gas from a sealed system that hasn’t been fucked up or broken for the last seventeen days.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing,’ with a hopeful grimace I twist the knob and blink in surprise at the hiss of gas coming out, ‘fuck me!’
‘No thanks.’
‘There’s gas.’
‘Gas?’
‘The gas is on…’ I press the ignition switch and offer a second prayer to the God of ignition switches that this one is battery operated and not run from the mains. It clicks and forms a spark which ignites the gas ring in a perfect circle of blue flame.
‘FUCK YES! Did you find coffee?’
‘You already asked me that,’ she steps to my side and pulls the three metal tins over from the side of the kettle, ‘sugar, tea…and coffee.’
‘Oh my god…this is the best day ever.’
‘You sound like Cookey.’
‘Right….tin opener…’
‘Here, what do you want first?’
‘Don’t care,’ I say while I twist the cold tap on to let it pour for a while.
‘Spaghetti hoops?’
‘Anything, really…’
She opens the can, finds a spoon from the drawer and stuffs it in the top, ‘here you go.’
‘Cheers, what you having?’
‘Er…’
‘Share this,’ I grab a spoon from the drawer and hand it over, ‘they’re so nice,’ I say with wide eyes and a mouthful of cold spaghetti hoops.
‘Share?’ She asks holding the spoon while the water thunders into the sink bowl behind me.
‘Mmmm,’ I hold the tin towards her, ‘have some.’
‘Howie, I might be infected,’ she says quietly, ‘we can’t…’
I shake my head quickly, ‘I’m immune…’ I say and wave the tin, ‘really, they’re so nice.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t,’ she says with a tight smile, ‘I’ll have the ravioli.’
‘Hands off that ravioli. I want that ravioli…I want all of it so we’ll have to share.’
‘Howie, it’s a big risk.’