Hell Hath No Fury...

by Elsa Carruthers

  While she was stationary, she tried to get the radio working again, muttering several expletives.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. The zombie was closer now. Sam put the car into gear and pulled away, giving the zombie the middle finger as she went.

  The air was bitterly cold and her eyes watered as wind rushed into her face. She reached for her sunglasses in her glove compartment and put them on to protect her eyes. She slowed the car down.

  The roads were quiet in this area, especially in the morning. Nobody liked driving past the trees, even though you were more likely to see a deer than anything sinister.

  Sam thought most people were idiots. Or cowards. Or both.

  She cursed loudly when a police car driving towards her put its light on and the driver indicated with a hand for her to pull over. She stopped in a layby and got out of the car, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

  The policeman pulled up behind her and got out. “What happened to your windscreen?” he asked.

  Sam sighed. “Hit a zombie,” she said. “Didn’t see the damn thing.”

  The policeman raised his eyebrows. “A zombie?” he repeated. “They’re pretty easy to avoid... Were you paying attention to the road?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “I looked away for one second,” she said. She watched as the policeman went around to the front of her car and inspected the damage.

  “Nasty,” he commented.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s probably still heading this way. If you hang around you might see it in an hour or so.”

  “I’ll drive back and shoot it,” he said. “Now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to do a breath test, see if you’ve been drinking.”

  “I’ve not been drinking,” Sam said. “I don’t drink. If I did drink, I wouldn’t drink and drive. That’s how my dad died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” the policeman said, going back to his car and retrieving the breathalyser. “Your old man taught you a valuable lesson.”

  “My dad hadn’t been drinking, it was the idiot who hit him who had,” Sam said.

  “Sorry. Now, take a deep breath and blow into this tube for me, keep blowing until I tell you to stop.”

  Sam placed her lips around the tube and blew steadily, watching the light on the breathalyser. She stopped when the policeman told her to and waited for the verdict.

  “All clear,” he said.

  “Told you.”

  “I have to check. Now then, you can’t drive your vehicle in that state. Is there anybody you can ring to come and pick you up?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “I’ll ring my dad.”

  “I thought you said...unless…he’s not undead is he?”

  Sam screwed up her nose. “Don’t be bloody stupid,” she said, annoyed. “My other dad. I had two. They were life partners.”

  “Oh,” said the policeman. “Well. Carry on.”

  She reached into her car, pulled her handbag from the passenger seat and fished around for her phone. She soon found it and dialled her dad’s number, listening to the phone ring as she watched the policeman return to his car and pick up the radio.

  “Sam?”

  “Hi, Dad. Can you come and pick me up?”

  “Where are you? What’s happened?”

  “I’m just outside of town, over Snowy,” she said, watching the policeman. “I hit a zombie. I’m fine but the car’s all smashed up and a copper pulled me over.”

  “A zombie? Are you all right?”

  Sam smiled. “I’m fine,” she said again. “Just come and get me, I’m freezing my arse off.”

  “All right, give me ten minutes.”

  “See you in a bit.” Sam hung up and threw the phone back into the bag. She looked at the policeman. “You okay?”

  He nodded, put the radio back in his car, and gave her a smile which she thought looked a little faked. “Yeah,” he said. “Just reporting the incident.”

  “Right,” Sam said. “Well, my dad’s coming so...”

  “Right. The zombie. You take care now. No more distractions while you’re driving, keep your eyes on the road in future.”

  “I will,” she promised. She waited. The policeman hesitated, then returned to his car and drove away.

  Sam leaned against her car door. She looked into the woods, bored.

  ***

  “Snowcombe,” Frank repeated into the radio. “Yeah, another one!”

  He drove up the hill, looking to the left and the right, keeping an eye out for the zombie the girl had run over. The radio crackled.

  “That’s the third report this week! Damn things are getting more prevalent.”

  Frank tapped the steering wheel. “Tell me about it,” he said. “We should be allowed to burn the woods down up here, the bloody things are probably breeding in there!”

  Frank heard his colleague chuckle over the radio. “The dead don’t breed, mate. They just...stagger around.”

  “You know I don’t like ‘em,” Frank said. “They give me the willies.”

  Up ahead, the zombie was stumbling down the middle of the road. Frank pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ve found it.”

  He turned the engine off and got out of the car, taking the gun from his belt. He closed one eye as he aimed at the zombie, and pulled the trigger.

  The zombie faltered as the bullet took off half its face, but it carried on coming.

  Frank grumbled, raised the gun, and fired again. This time the zombie went down. Frank put the gun back into the holster, walked up to the body and gave it a kick. He waited. When the body didn’t come back to life, he took hold of its legs gingerly and dragged it towards the car.

  He opened the boot, dusted his hands together, then lifted the body with a groan and dumped it inside. He closed the boot and got back into the car.

  He flicked the switch on the radio. “Got it,” he said. “I’m heading back to the station.”

  “Roger, Frank. See you in a while.”

  “Yep,” Frank said. He turned the radio off, checked his mirrors, then drove away.

  ***

  Sam warmed her hands over the car heater as her dad drove her home. They soon left Snowcombe hill behind as they headed into the town. It was starting to get busy as people were making their way to work.

  Sam peered out of the window at two dog owners trying to stop their pets from fighting in the street. She sat back and looked at her dad. “Just my luck to hit a bloody zombie,” she said. “It couldn’t have been a rabbit, or a bird!”

  Her dad frowned. “I don’t like you driving over Snowcombe,” he said. “You hear all sorts of horror stories about the woods up there.”

  “I’m not driving all the way around, it’s an extra twenty minutes!” Sam protested. “Think of the petrol.”

  “Still. You know I don’t like it. And that’s going to cost a bit, you know, getting your car fixed.”

  Sam sat on her hands to warm them up. “Yeah,” she said. “Shit.”

  “And it wouldn’t hurt for that man of yours to come to you once in a while. You always go to his.”

  “Yeah, Dad, that’s because he lives on his own, and I live with you.” Sam smiled and looked over at her dad. He was still frowning so she rolled her eyes. “Zombies aren’t scary,” she said. “They’re useless! Gross, but useless.”

  “You’ve just had an accident, Samantha, it could have been a lot worse,” he said.

  “I know.” She looked back out of the window. “But I’m all right.”

  “Thank God,” replied her dad. “Thank God.”

  ***

  Frank let two younger officers remove the body from the back of his car and take it into the station. He followed them in, went straight to the bathroom and washed his hands before going to get a coffee.

  He sat down in the staff room and opened up a newspaper somebody had left on the table. The radio played quietly in the background, though it lost signal every no
w and then.

  Frank didn’t look up when somebody sat opposite him.

  “Frank,” the younger man said. “I saw that thing you shot. How many bullets did you waste on that thing, eh?” He laughed. “Bloody hell, mate, it’s not like they duck and weave.”

  “Yeah, well. I was freezing,” Frank grunted. “I was shivering so course my aim was off.”

  “Three this week. They’ll be coming into town next.”

  Frank looked up from the paper. “I hope not,” he said.

  His colleague grinned and leaned on the table. “I hope they do,” he said. “It’ll be a bit of sport. Give us lot something to do, eh?”

  “I don’t know about you, Mark, but I’ve got plenty to do.”

  “What? Read the paper and drink coffee?”

  “Hm.” Frank picked up the paper and sat back in the chair, letting Mark know that the conversation was over.

  Mark laughed and tapped the tabletop. “I’ll leave you to it, mate,” he said.

  Frank turned the page and said nothing.

  ***

  The cat was curled at the end of the bed, purring softly as she stroked its fur. Sam listened to her boyfriend as he too warned her about driving over Snowcombe.

  “I’ve had this lecture from my dad already,” she said, smiling. “I’m all right you know. Alive and everything.”

  “I don’t know why they don’t send somebody in there to round them all up and exterminate them!”

  Sam lay down on the bed, holding the phone to her ear. She watched as the cat rolled over onto his back, his legs in the air. “Human rights,” she said. “They might be the undead, but they were humans once. We had protesters out there tying themselves to the trees once when the authorities tried to go in there.”

  “Mad.”

  “Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Hey, dad said you should come to me next time. I’d like that actually.”

  “There’s no privacy at yours though, babe.”

  “I know. Maybe I can get dad to go out or something.” She wiggled her toes at the cat. The animal ignored her. “Don’t drive over Snowy though. Go the long way.”

  “Says she! Why can’t I?”

  Sam grinned. “Because today I ran over a zombie,” she said. “Just go the long way, okay? For me?”

  She heard him sigh. “All right,” he said. “Text you later, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Sam hung up and chucked the phone onto the bed. She sat up and grabbed playfully at the cat’s belly. He jumped and batted at her hands before settling back down again.

  “Lazy old thing,” she said. She got up and headed downstairs. Her dad was in the kitchen putting a pizza into the oven.

  Sam groaned. “Again? Dad!” She plonked herself down at the kitchen table and held her chin in her hands.

  “You know Pete was the cook, not me,” her dad said.

  “Yeah,” Sam said, sighing. “So, Rob’s coming over at some point, like you wanted—”

  “Like I suggested.”

  “Yeah, like you suggested. So I was just wondering if maybe...you were going out at all?”

  Her dad leaned back against the kitchen worktop and folded his arms across his chest. He smiled. “You’re kicking me out, Sammy?”

  “No!”

  “It’s all right. I’m going to play golf on Saturday and I expect I’ll be out for a drink with the lads afterwards, so you’ll have the house all to yourself, okay?”

  “You are the best.”

  “Just be responsible, okay? You know what I’m talking about.”

  Sam pulled a face. “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks, Dad.”

  ***

  Later that day, Sam and her father sat on the sofa together watching the news. Some scientist in Scotland was trying to devise a cure for zombieism, another scientist was arguing that it was impossible. You couldn’t cure death. Sam was of the same opinion.

  She yawned widely and picked up her book from the arm of the chair instead. She started reading when her dad groaned. She looked up. The picture on the TV was breaking up.

  “Give it a smack,” Sam said.

  “We need a new one,” her dad replied, getting up and going to give the TV a tap.

  “Hit it harder than that,” she said, grinning. “You won’t hurt it.”

  She watched as her dad smacked his fist down on top of the television. The screen went blue and then turned off. “Oh,” she said.

  The lights started to flicker and Sam looked up. In the kitchen, the radio came on. “What the hell’s going on?” she asked.

  “Probably the electrics. Maybe we’re going to have a storm or something.”

  Sam put her book down. “Maybe,” she agreed.

  The radio shut up abruptly. A light in one of the lampshades blew. Sam could hear her radio-alarm in her bedroom going off. She got to her feet. “I’ll go and check on the cat,” she said. “We should probably just switch the electric off before something blows up.”

  “I’ll do that,” said her dad.

  Sam nodded. She made her way upstairs to her bedroom, frowning at the light in the hallway as she passed beneath it. It was swinging and flickering.

  When she opened her bedroom door, the cat bolted between her legs and disappeared down the hall.

  “Weird,” Sam muttered. The alarm in her room quieted as the electrics died. She fumbled her way into her room in the darkness and felt in her bedside cabinet for a torch. She turned it on.

  “Dad?” she called. “Everything okay?”

  Sam wondered where the cat had gone. She shone the torch around the hallway, then headed downstairs. “Dad?” she called again.

  She went into the kitchen, holding the torch in front of her. She frowned. “Dad?”

  The back door slammed shut, causing Sam to almost drop the torch. She cursed loudly.

  “Sam?” her dad called.

  She spun around as he hurried into the kitchen, covering his eyes when she flashed the torch in his face. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “They’re here,” he replied, closing the kitchen door and leaning back against it. His hands were shaking. “Jesus Christ. They’re here.”

  “Who?!”

  “The zombies!”

  Sam lowered the torch. She laughed a little. “Very funny.”

  Her dad moved away from the door and pulled open a drawer. “I’m not joking,” he said, passing her a knife and then arming himself with one. “The bloody zombies are here.”

  “Where? Outside?” Sam went to the kitchen window, switching off the torch so that she could see out. She shook her head.

  “Out the back,” her dad said. “I’ve locked the door. Hopefully they’ll just... move on.”

  “What the hell are they doing in town!”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Isn’t anybody doing anything?!”

  “I don’t know! It doesn’t look like it.”

  Sam put the torch down on the table and sat down. “Great,” she said. “Tonight’s going to be fun.”

  ***

  One of the zombies broke the wing mirror from his car. Frank, leaning out of his bedroom window, took aim and fired his gun. The zombie went down. He reloaded.

  “Goddamn things,” he muttered, returning to the window. Another zombie was shambling down the middle of the road. Two more were on the pavement.

  Frank could hear other gunshots ringing out in the night. He hoped people were shooting the undead and not each other. He closed an eye and aimed at a zombie standing under a streetlamp. Calmly, he squeezed the trigger.

  Dogs were barking. Somewhere down the street, people were shouting. Frank could hear a motorbike approaching at speed. He cursed when he saw it.

  Two people on a Harley. The driver skidding to a halt in the middle of the road, the passenger, armed with a cricket bat, knocked a zombie’s head off.

  “Kids,” Frank said, shaking his head.

  Zombies tur
ned and headed towards the bike. The driver whooped and sped away, but still the zombies tried to follow.

  Frank watched them, frowning. They were moving faster than usual, he was sure of it. They were still uncoordinated, walking with jerky staggers, forcing their broken bodies to move, but they were faster.

  He lifted his gun and fired again.

  ***

  Sam screamed when there was a bang on the kitchen window. She heard the laughter of teenage boys and she smacked a hand angrily on the table. “Idiots!” she said.

  “What the hell are they doing outside, are they crazy!” her dad asked.

  “People aren’t afraid,” Sam said. “You’d think it was Halloween or something!” She got to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” her dad demanded.

  “I’m going to see what’s going on,” Sam said, taking the torch and the knife and heading for the door.