The Undead Day Seventeen

by RR Haywood

  ‘Roy,’ she smiles sadly, ‘I wish I knew you before this.’

  ‘You wouldn’t look twice at me,’ he says kindly without any trace of venom.

  ‘I would.’

  ‘A weird hypochondriac?’

  ‘Definitely. You are handsome, you know that. What?’

  ‘Im not.’

  ‘You are, I think you are.’

  ‘You are beautiful.’

  ‘I didn’t say it so you’d say it back.’

  ‘Okay, I take it back then.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t buster!’

  ‘Come here,’ he pulls her in close.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ she says with her lips hovering close to his.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Paula?’

  ‘Mo Mo, in here…what’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing, Blowers said to tell you we found loads of food and should we eat now or take it somewhere? You get me?’

  ‘Hang on,’ with a smile at Roy she walks into the kitchen and starts rooting through the cupboards, ‘yeah loads in here too. Go and see Clarence and Mr Howie, suggest we eat here and then meet back in the middle later.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Mo Mo!’

  ‘Yeah?’ He says running back.

  ‘Suggest it politely.’

  ‘I will,’ he shouts running off.

  ‘What do you fancy?’ Paula asks facing the open cupboard. She smiles at the feel of his arms enveloping her round the waist and the soft touch of his lips on the back of her neck. She drops her hands to hold his and they stand clasped together enjoying the warm embrace of human touch. She sighs heavily and nestles her head back as his brushes the side of her cheek.

  ‘Do you really want to leave them?’ She asks.

  ‘I just…’ he pauses, ‘yes, yes I do but I’ll do what you want. I’m not good round people, I say things that…wind them up and…I’ve got no tact or…’

  ‘Telling me,’ she chuckles and reaches back to slide her fingers through his hair, ‘I don’t know, I feel like a sense of responsibility to them. Like we belong together. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s not about being safe,’ she says quietly while enjoying the cuddle, ‘I know I’d be safe with you and…’

  ‘You underestimate yourself,’ he murmurs, ‘you survived on your own.’

  ‘I did,’ she agrees, ‘and I would do again, but surviving and living are two different things. I could survive on my own but I can live with you or the team.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘And I don’t mean for you to protect me either although I know nothing would ever get through you…’

  ‘I’m not Howie or Dave or Clarence.’

  ‘You’re not far off, Roy,’ she says firmly, ‘you can fight as well as any of them.’

  ‘Not those three. You’ve seen them…all of them…even the lads, they’re so fast.’

  ‘They’ve been doing it non-stop for days.’

  ‘And Lani? My word she could fight.’

  ‘She could,’ Paula sighs.

  ‘I think it’s right she died like that.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Imagine if she came back.’

  ‘Oh I see, sorry…I thought you meant…yeah you don’t have much tact, Roy.’

  ‘We’ll stay with them then.’

  ‘No. If it makes you feel uncomfortable then we can leave.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be fair to you,’ he says, ‘and Howie relies on you now. He made you a manager in the tunnel.’

  ‘Urgh that tunnel,’ she shivers.

  ‘You looked so sexy in that tunnel.’

  ‘Roy!’

  ‘You did,’ he tightens his grip round her waist and commences the kisses to the back of her neck again.

  ‘Paula?’

  ‘Here,’ Paula calls back as Roy steps back from the embrace.

  ‘Mr Howie…’ Mo Mo pants to get breath, ‘said everyone got food so eat…eat now and meet back in an hour…’

  ‘Okay, Mo. You okay?’

  ‘Fine!’

  ‘Make sure you all eat lots.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘See what I mean?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How can you leave them?’

  ‘I will,’ she says, ‘for you.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘now I have a pressing issue that I need to discuss with the personnel manager.’

  ‘Okay,’ she laughs and adopts a serious expression, ‘how can I help?’

  ‘It’s a personal issue,’ Roy says gravely, ‘and one that needs to be discussed in private,’ he adds taking her hand and gently pulling her towards the stairs.

  ‘Oh,’ she says, ‘now?’

  ‘Oh,’ he stops with a look of worry, ‘we don’t have to I was…’

  ‘Get up there, you,’ she rushes into him and starts pushing him towards the stairs, ‘you got me going kissing my neck like that.’

  ‘I think we should eat first,’ he says switching sides and letting himself be pushed up the stairs.

  ‘Yep,’ she pulls her top up and over her head.

  ‘We’ve only got an hour,’ he pulls his own top off and drops it on the floor.

  ‘Yep,’ they reach the top of the stairs and come together with lips meeting hungrily. Roy walking backwards and being guided to the main bedroom and the double bed within.

  Shoes are tugged off, belts undone, trousers pulled down and the floor litters with clothes as they fall back onto the soft mattress and take delight in the exploration of each other’s bodies.

  What was frantic lust slows to a deep care as they take time and kiss deeply. Hands holding. Skin touching. Breathing heavy and they sink into a bliss so rarely taken amongst the desperation to survive.

  Later, with sweat beading on their bodies they stay naked on the bed while working their way through tinned food brought giggling upstairs with a tin opener and cutlery.

  While Reginald creates civilised society and Howie and Marcy edge closer with the fierce challenge of dominance so evident in their manner, so they lounge and make a mess on the bed and eat cold baked beans.

  ‘Where would we live?’ She asks just before spooning another mouthful.

  ‘Wherever you want,’ he says, ‘we could get a big van and kit it out like my old one.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I remember your van. It was really nice. What did you have in it?’

  ‘Generator, batteries, weapons, books…well I had a kindle that I kept charged up…’

  ‘Oh really,’ she pulls a face, ‘are you sad you lost it?’

  ‘Find books anywhere,’ he says.

  ‘True,’ she looks round for a bookshelf.

  ‘In the hall,’ Roy says, ‘but it’s all Mills and Boon.’

  ‘Oh, no fifty shades then?’

  ‘I didn’t see one. We could put a big bed in there, maybe get a converted coach or something like that and just move from site to site.’

  ‘Oh sounds bliss,’ she sighs with the post coital warm sensation and her stomach slowly being re-fuelled, ‘soft sheets,’ she sighs again, ‘you think we’d get bored?’

  ‘We could visit places.’

  ‘Like where?’

  ‘Scotland, Wales…Cornwall…anywhere…’

  ‘We could find an old castle somewhere!’

  ‘We could,’ he says between munches, ‘bit cold and draughty though.’

  ‘You could teach me how to shoot a bow.’

  ‘You could teach me to be less annoying.’

  ‘You’re not annoying.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Yeah, you are but not to me. What if I got pregnant?’

  He stops and stares with the spoon held in front of his mouth, ‘are you?’

  ‘Might be,’ she says too casually, ‘we didn’t use protection and…’

  ‘Oh of course, I suppose you can’t get any now.’

  ‘Birth control? We could get some but I hadn’t taken it for ag
es. No point.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you could well be pregnant.’

  ‘Who knows? Would that bother you?’

  ‘Nope, not at all.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. We could raise a child.’

  ‘Shit,’ she stops eating for a second, ‘when you say it like that.’

  ‘I’d abandon you and run away.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘Yes. And not pay maintenance.’

  ‘I’d come after you.’

  ‘Okay,’ he carries on eating, ‘I’ll stay with you then.’

  ‘We don’t know if I am pregnant. I’m just saying it’s a possibility. I’m due on in a few days…I think,’ she stops to think for a second, ‘am I?’

  ‘I don’t know, are you?’

  ‘Er…yes, yes I am,’ she nods suddenly and carries on eating.

  ‘They’d never let you leave if they thought you were pregnant,’ he says after a few minutes.

  ‘On the contrary, I think they would want me to leave…’

  ‘Less danger?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Makes sense, could you imagine that lot with a baby?’

  ‘It’d be the safest baby in the world.’

  ‘Very true,’ Roy nods in agreement and starts flicking the empty cans off the bed.

  ‘What you doing?’

  ‘Making room.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘More sex.’

  ‘We’ve just eaten. I can’t jump around now.’

  ‘Er, I can jump and you can…’

  ‘Okay,’ she says and starts clearing the bed, ‘but I am full so don’t go crazy.’

  ‘I won’t. Should we use a condom?’

  ‘Do you have any?’ She stops clearing the bed to look at him.

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh well,’ he reaches out for her.

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t then,’ she says biting her bottom lip, ‘if it worries you.’

  ‘It doesn't worry me,’ he says gently.

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Very.’

  Gently this time. Slow and gentle and the conversation brings a new sensuality to their touches and the longing looks they share.

  She lies on her side with Roy behind. His left arm underneath her neck to cradle her head. His other hand on her hip that snakes round to stroke the soft skin on her stomach. Motion together. Back and forth. It builds slow but grows until the groans fill the room. In pitch and volume they rise as they lose themselves in the intimacy of togetherness and towards climax they journey.

  So close together and their heads fill with the sound of the other. Minds numb to all else other than the now. Hands touching. Senses alive. She pushes back and in so doing they only hear each other and not the first noise from outside and as they reach climax so the noise of a hundred undead and more finally reaches them as the infected give voice in a howl that pierces the air.

  Fourteen

  From the eyes of the crawler left for days in the garden of the cottage the infection saw Dave coming to deliver death. But it saw past Dave and it saw Reginald in the kitchen with Clarence.

  Reginald was with Marcy. Marcy was a host of great importance for she retained some of her own intelligence but could hold the hive mind as if it were her own.

  Marcy left the hive mind. She was an intrinsic part but then she was no longer there and with her went Reginald.

  Marcy is with Howie. Howie is in the village. Lani is dead. The infection understands psychology and knows Howie will be distracted with grief and loss. He will be mourning the passing of his own comrade and lover.

  Marcy cannot be with Howie. That cannot be allowed. This must be stopped.

  From the mind of the crawler the infection gains the knowledge of the village square and calculates the best form of attack is go for the middle at the same time as the rear of each section. Engulf them. Flank and out-manoeuvre. Swarm them with ranks that drain their energy and hold the strongest and fastest hosts back for the end.

  Howie is strongest when they are together so the infection must divide the enemy forces.

  Divide and conquer.

  Make them weaker.

  End this. End Marcy.

  One race.

  Fifteen

  ‘Buttmunchingarsemonkeytwatmcgee,’ Cookey says with a nod at Blowers, ‘been working on that one all morning.’

  ‘Nice,’ Blowers says with a nod of admiration.

  ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Nick asks with a look back at Howie and Marcy arguing in the middle of the square, ‘they’re going for each other’s throats.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Cookey spins with his rifle lifting to aim.

  ‘Not literally you fucking twat,’ Nick says, ‘d’you think I’d stand here watching if they were actually doing that?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Cookey says, ‘probably.’

  ‘We get the flats then,’ Blowers says with a look at the newsagents and then across to the recessed front door, ‘that it?’

  ‘Front door?’ Asks Nick, ‘must be.’

  ‘Clearance,’ Blowers says as they walk towards it, ‘me in front, Cookey behind me then Nick and Mo Mo, you hold the door to give us a safe exit.’

  ‘Roger roger rubber ducky,’ Cookey says.

  ‘I am so hungry,’ Nick complains, ‘you hungry?’ He asks Mo Mo.

  ‘Starvin’,’ Mo Mo says and watches the fluidity of movement from the other three young men as Blowers assumes a natural command. Not bossy. Not in charge like Mr Howie or Clarence or even Paula, but just that he knows what he is doing and the idea of not doing what he says just doesn't form.

  The loss of Jagger hit Mo Mo hard. The two of them had been inseparable for years, closer than brothers. They’d done everything together and rejection from their family lives only pushed them closer to a wild, almost feral existence. They hung out, committed crime, ran from the police, got arrested, bailed and everything was funny, it was a game as they had each other.

  Now he’s gone. Shot down and killed just like that. A blink of an eye and he’s dead. A part of Mo Mo died right there. Like a piece of his soul was torn away and the emptiness inside will never be filled but Mr Howie was right. This is a new world and there ain’t no help coming and no one else to sort this out. They’s got each other and that’s it and as much as Mo Mo feels like dropping down to weep and die he won’t as the thirst for revenge grows stronger than the desire to give in. He wants them. He wants to kill and slaughter them. He wants the skills Mr Howie and Dave have. He wants the speed the lads possess and the instinct of Clarence.

  Mo Mo isn’t thick. Not by a long stretch and his lack of formal education means nothing now. From the streets he came and scrabbled to live day in and day out. Finding food. Somewhere to stay. Avoiding the bad guys and the police. Running. Hiding. Fighting. Skills that he now thrives on and for Jagger he will get better until he can do to them what they have done to him.

  So he listens and watches the way the lads move, the way they hold their weapons and scan, always watching, forever watchful, always looking up to the distance then back down to the close vicinity. Always mindful of what is left and right and where the points of attack might come from.

  At the door they pause and Blowers gently eases the door handle down.

  ‘Locked,’ he says quietly.

  ‘Window?’ Nick asks, ‘we can reach down.’

  ‘Do it,’ Blowers steps back as Nick steps in and using the butt of his rifle he smashes the glass pane above the door lock. Mo Mo holds position behind them, scanning the area and watching with interest as Howie passes something to Marcy who then drops down to kneel in front of him.

  ‘In,’ Nick says and pushes the door open, ‘you first?’ He looks to Blowers then down at his legs as Meredith chooses her team and pushes through the legs to get inside the door.

  ‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Blowers says and steps in af
ter the dog. A flight of stairs going up and with the rifle raised he goes carefully as the dog crests the top and disappears from view.

  ‘Smell anything?’ Cookey asks quietly from behind him.

  ‘Nope, you?’

  ‘Musty, like stale air,’ Cookey says.

  ‘Good sign,’ Blowers replies as Meredith runs past the top of the stairs and disappears again. ‘Doors…’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Four, left, ahead and two on the right. Going left, you hold there.’

  ‘On it,’ Cookey moves up as Blowers heads to the internal door on the left. He goes through quickly.

  ‘Clear,’ he calls out, ‘lounge.’

  ‘Cool,’ Cookey waits as Blowers comes back and gets through into the next room.

  ‘Clear, bathroom….’

  ‘Two cleared,’ Cookey calls down to Nick who passes it on to Mo Mo outside.

  ‘Bedroom, clear,’ Blowers walks back and pushes the last door, ‘dining room…leads to the kitchen and…fuck me!’

  ‘What?’ Cookey’s body tenses as his finger instinctively lifts away from the trigger to prevent any risk of firing towards Blowers who reappears grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Nick, get Mo Mo and come up,’ Blowers calls out, ‘have a look,’ he motions to Cookey.

  ‘What?’ Cookey asks with a big smile at seeing Blowers grinning so widely. The room is much bigger than he expected and stretches back with enough space to allow the six seat dining table and the large open plan kitchen at the far end.

  ‘Fucking jackpot,’ Cookey laughs with delight at the contents of the newsagents stacked up against the wall. Trays of tinned food. Cigarettes in long sealed packets. Drinks, cans, bottles, spirits, beers, wines, snack food, chocolate bars. The whole shop scavenged and brought up into the flat.

  ‘What…Fuck!’ Nick stops dead at the sight, ‘nobody here then?’

  ‘Nope,’ Blowers says still staring at the hoard of food, ‘seen this, Mo,’ he says to Mo Mo walking in behind Nick.

  ‘Nice,’ Mo Mo says, ‘that from the shop?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ Blowers says, ‘maybe whoever lived here owned it?’

  ‘No one here then?’ Mo Mo asks.

  ‘No, must have gone out,’ Blowers says.

  ‘And never come back,’ Cookey adds.