Breaking News: An Autozombiography

by N. J. Hallard

  We all had to slide to a stop before we were at the rucksacks, as Dawn’s horse reared up and threw her to the ground. She rubbed her elbow, and was about to mount again with a breezy grin when she shrieked. The horse had seen one of the bodies on the ground moving. I dismounted – well, fell off really – and ran up to her.

  ‘Do you want to do one?’ I asked her. ‘You’re going to have to at some stage.’ The woman on the ground was young, about thirty. She had a massive head wound opening up her forehead, oily scum building up along its edges. One eye had been dislodged. She seemed to only have movement above her neck. Her eye twitched and her jaws chomped on the damp air.

  Dawn had wrapped Vaughan’s axe into the folds on her net skirt. She felt the handle tentatively.

  ‘I can’t. What if they come with a cure?’

  ‘Who is this ‘they’ everyone’s wishing will arrive?’ I gesticulated. ‘No-one’s coming,’ I said more softly to her as David joined us. Dawn stood over the corpse reluctantly.

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘She’d dead already.’ I said. I was happy for Dawn to do it in her own time, and I knew it would be better for her to do one before David. That way, neither of them would have any excuse not to dispatch one when it was coming up behind me. After raising the axe a few times and checking with me where she was aiming for, she cracked it down at right angles to the woman’s neck, sending the head rolling down the track. She sniffed, grimaced and folded the axe back into her skirt. She helped me back on my horse and we carried on. David saw one in the trees. The first I knew of it he had popped some nails into the man’s head, but he still lumbered toward us.

  ‘The nail guns are tricky; you’ve got to be spot-on.’ I took it from him and put three or four into his neck, felling him. At least now David had got his hands dirty.

  We were soon by the backpacks. The first one I checked was the one with all my books and DVDs, which had let some water in, but on the whole was fine. The VHS tapes hadn’t crinkled up, I was delighted to see. I wondered if I should half-inch a TV/DVD combo from Sainsbury’s and a generator from B&Q. It was risky, but it would be worth it, I thought - I could do with a laugh, but I did have other slightly more pressing priorities though. I loosened the straps on the rucksacks and tied them together in pairs, so I could sling them over the horse’s backs like saddle-bags. Dawn helped me tie the water butts to my own back, like a low-budget Ninja Turtle, before we set back off up the path. We saw two up ahead when we were close to Cissbury Ring.

  ‘Now have a proper go,’ I said, dismounting uniquely.

  David joined me as I swung my club.

  ‘Just go for the head; this is really what you’ve got to do to any that have got into the camp, when you’ve got to finish them off. We left a lot of them alone coming up here – it slows you down if you think you’ve got to get them all. Going by the amount of survivors I’ve seen, there could be sixty million of them crawling over the country, so it’s usually better to do what you two did, and run.’ I struck the first one in a downwards blow to the forehead, and then dislodged my club with a gristly sucking noise. Before he could get up I broke his neck. I handed it to David as the next one shuffled up. He had a gash opening up his leg, and no left arm.

  ‘Use my club for the time being. I’m good with the nail gun.’

  ‘Cool. What have you called it?’

  ‘Haven’t decided yet. Club Med. Club Head. Club Dead. I dunno. Go on.’

  David was less reluctant now that the man’s good arm was nearly at his throat. He rained five or six blows onto his face.

  ‘Aim for the important bits.’ I suggested. He struck the man sideways across the neck with an impressive blow, seeming to loosen the chap’s head from its moorings as he crumpled to the rain-soaked path.

  ‘He was harmless,’ he giggled to himself. He turned to Dawn. ‘Armless.’

  She rolled her eyes, and breathed out a deep breath. I saw she wasn’t looking at David’s handiwork. We followed Floyd back into camp – the little pup seemed well at home now. Dawn tended to the animals whilst David and I unpacked the booty.

  The first thing we set up was the tarpaulin. It would be far more economical than Al’s dad’s sail, as it was much bigger. I dismantled our impromptu rain collector and used the same tree to stretch out the much larger sheet of blue plastic. I put a rock onto a raft of short sticks in the middle of it, weighing it down to form a point and also hopefully keeping the wind from tipping it up. I put one of the water butts underneath and cut a small hole in the sheeting – around an inch in diameter and as circular as I could get it, as a lot of weight would be on it and I didn’t want it to split. It was still raining, albeit lighter than during the night before, yet it worked well, making a constant trickling sound echo inside the container.

  Next we unpacked Jay’s bag, with all the small bits. I put all of the screws, nails and chain into Jay’s tent, and then David and I silently pulled on the chemical gauntlets and face masks. We knew what had to be done, and worked for the rest of the day grimly clearing the camp of bodies and body parts, and hauling them over the sides into the ditch. When we sat for a rest, we discussed ways to get rid of the corpses below us. They stank, and the flies were starting to reappear as the rain slowed.

  ‘If it wasn’t so damp I’d incinerate them down there where they lay, you know; torch them in small batches so as not to cause a massive fuckup,’ I said.

  ‘It would be too risky with the hot weather.’ David was leaning back on his elbows.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. But we could dig fire breaks in the grass on the edges so it didn’t spread up here.’

  ‘It’s too wet anyway, he said. ‘We could make quicklime.’ David’s eyes showed eagerness. I knew quicklime decomposed things quicker, that they used it in mass graves; and that they put the stuff into cigarettes - but that was about it. I had no idea how to actually make it.

  ‘How the fuck are we going to make quicklime up here?’ I asked.

  ‘Chalk!’ He spread his arms out to demonstrate the undeniable excess of chalk. ‘You just burn it. You get quick lime from burning chalk.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ I asked incredulously.

  ‘Dawn’s favourite song. It’s about a high school massacre, and the kid makes quicklime to decompose the corpses of his fallen victims.’ He looked serious, contemplative.

  ‘We could give it a go. We’ll dig a trench on the side with the least wind – that side.’ I pointed. ‘Prevailing winds almost always go from west to east in England. We can get a load of chalk and burn it on the embers. Will that work?’

  ‘I dunno, I’m not a quicklime expert.’

  ‘How hot does it have to get?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll refer the speaker to my previous answer.’

  ‘We need more logs, more than we’ve got here. Try under the trees, and any dead wood off the ground. Do you watch Ray Mears?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ David said. ‘That canoe was awesome.’

  We gathered wood and piled it up on the east side of the Ring. I dug a trench in the shelter of a low, long bush, first of all breaking through the dense weather-beaten turf and then hacking up the chalk which lay below that. Dawn had been seeing to the horses, but now she picked up the pick-axe Vaughan had lifted from the DIY store and joined in. We broke the chalk up into fist-sized lumps and piled it up by the side of the pit. David followed our progress on hands and knees, lining the bottom of the trench we were creating with flat rocks from the same place where we’d found the stones for Vaughan’s grave. When we were done, backs aching and sweat dripping into our eyes it looked like a fifteen-foot long strip of perfectly excavated Roman road.

  We began carrying the wood over, putting about a quarter of the thinner stuff onto David’s orderly flagstones. Then we kicked, dug and pushed all the chalk back into the hole on top of the sticks. After this the rest of the wood went in, until it stood three feet high and not quite fifteen feet long. It was mid-afternoon and the
sun glimmered weakly through the rain, which was easing all the time but still ever-present, soaking our clothes through from the outside whilst the toil did the same from the inside. I put three long staffs into our campfire and sat next to it, rotating each one until they were well alight.

  ‘Ready?’ I asked the two Goths at either end of the pyre. I stood in the middle, and when they nodded, we rammed our firewood into the thick mass of sticks. It took quickly, even in the drizzle. We hadn’t seen a zombie since we’d gone for the backpacks, so we’d been able to work carefully and steadily enough to keep everything dry, and soon the blaze was raging.

  ‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see,’ I said.

  ‘What did we do all that for?’ Dawn asked.

  ‘Quick lime,’ David said, pulling her closer to him.

  ‘Oh, cool.’

  Making Up

  [day 0007]

  Dmitri woke me up. It confused me at first - I though Floyd’s voice had broken or something. Night had crept up on us quickly, and the last thing I could remember was being by the campfire, drinking mug after mug of tea with no milk. But here I was in my tent; boots off, dead to the world. At least, that was until Dmitri started waking up the neighbours. I scrambled out of the tent, getting the zip caught and fumbling at the Velcro. My socks soaked up the damp from the earth. Both dogs were in front of me, so I definitely wasn’t imagining it. But he was alone, which meant the others were out there somewhere in the night. Floyd was trying to get Dmitri to play, but that hadn’t worked and he was now biting at his back legs. The usually tolerant older beagle snapped at Floyd, then persisted in barking at me. My skull felt like it had a crack in it, and my back, arms and legs ached from the previous day’s digging. As soon as I walked a few step towards him in an effort to shut him up he ran away, then stopped, turned back to me and started barking again. David’s dream-creased features emerged from Al’s tent.

  ‘What’s the noise? Oh look, that’s your mate’s dog.’

  ‘Yeah, but no mates. Or Lou.’ I scratched my backside, yawned, and tried to shake myself awake. I walked towards Dmitri again. He did the same thing. Each time he kept going in the same direction, towards the back of the ring, then stopping and barking until I caught up.

  ‘Car park’, I said to no-one in particular. I ran back to the tent and hunted for my binoculars, then pulled my boots on. Dawn was next to David, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘I think they’re down there,’ I nodded, ‘in the car park. I’m going to have a look.’

  The moon, fat and buttery, was dodging the scudding clouds. I ran north, both dogs disappearing ahead. I kept to the straight line they took, and after a heart-pounding five minutes I stopped, breathless. I could see the car park, and I tracked the grey line of the road until I could see Al’s Audi, headlights fading, and hear the slur of a struggling starter motor and someone’s scream carrying up to me on the breeze. Dmitri was giving me full volume now. I could see five or six figures crowding the car, and more in the fields either side of the road. I tore myself away and sprinted back to the camp.

  ‘Dawn!’ I collapsed onto the cool grass. ‘Dawn, you’ve got to help them. Get a pony. They’re all down there.’ I waved north, my face crumpled by a stitch in my side.

  ‘How many are there?’ She was kneeling next to me with water.

  ‘It looked like all three of them. Lou was screaming. Al’s car’s not working.’

  ‘Well, I’ll need more than one horse. You ride one down and I’ll lead a third one alongside mine. Get up then!’

  ‘No, David’s got to come with us,’ I panted.

  ‘It’ll be quicker without him.’ Dawn said.

  ‘I’ll stay here, get on the radio.’ David offered. I had no time to discuss it.

  ‘It’s in my tent, they’re on channel two,’ I panted, ‘so keep on it, tell them we’re coming. Dawn, have you got a weapon?’ She showed me a glint of metal in the folds of her skirt and beamed.

  She was fast, even when she was in charge of two of the bastards. I was bouncing about all over the place and nearly came a cropper several times, and that was on the calm flat top of the Ring. Hammering down the slope I just grabbed some mane and shut my eyes.

  ‘You go first!’ Dawn was at the bottom, nodding at the gate. I didn’t muck about; I could see a freak coming towards us from the undergrowth. The dogs set about him. Dawn had to wrestle two horses through the gap, so I dug my heels in, eager to get out of her way. I tore through the open gate and onto the road. The hooves on the tarmac made a noise that made me think of family holidays in other seaside towns, and the wind whipped my hair around my face as I guided the horse towards the fading headlamps of Al’s Audi. I could hear Lou screaming quite clearly now. As I pulled alongside them and lashed out at the nearest member of what was now a twenty-strong swarm of freaks, I could hear Jay inside the car shouting ‘What the fuck is that?’

  I worked solidly, patiently; the animal keeping a good distance for me. The dogs had kept up with my horse and were getting stuck in. Dawn was soon beside me, and I could hear the steady crunch of her axe-work. When we’d cleared them away from one side of the car, I leant down on the horse’s foot-holder-thingy and peered in through the window.

  ‘Alright?’

  ‘Fuck me. Are you riding a horse?’ Jay sounded a bit drunk.

  ‘Yep. Get out; one of you is going to have to ride one on your own. Dawn’ll take the whichever one of you is left. Lou, you’re with me. Hop on.’ Lou was out of the car already, making a fuss of Floyd. She obviously hadn’t seen him in a while, even though I was sure she’d taken him when she’d left. I noticed she was wearing one of Jay’s big coats.

  ‘Have any of you ridden a horse before?’ Dawn asked, but none of them had. ‘Right, you,’ she pointed at Jay, ‘you’re more… substantial. Take this one. She’s got everything you need to ride her. Just hold on, she’ll follow us. Quick!’ Jay took the horse, looking pale.

  ‘You - Al, is it?’ Dawn pointed. ‘We’re bareback, so hold on tight,’ he was getting a licking from Dmitri, but he stood up and did as he was told. She sounded like a schoolteacher. ‘Jay, help him on, we’ll wait for you.’

  After much potential for comedy, including me falling off in order to help my wife onto the back of our horse, we were all set. Lou had looked me in the eye briefly, and that was good enough for the moment, I thought. The zombies had gathered themselves up and were getting too close. I started to take a couple of lively ones down again, but Dawn was off already. Lou’s grip tightened around my waist and I kicked my heels. I could hear Jay following behind us, screaming for his mother. Hooves clattered, and a few walkers span into the bushes as we rode into them. Dense, cold bubbles of rain started to hit my face. Al yelped as Dawn’s steed jumped straight over the fence next to the open gate. Ours was less adventurous but soon we were all at the base of the Ring.

  ‘Dawn, was this gate open when you came up here?’ I shouted.

  ‘Think so.’

  ‘Nuts.’ I didn’t want to delay our escape, but equally I didn’t want to increase the number of undead walking the base of the Ring, especially now they seemed to be spread out all around us and not just approaching from Worthing. We trotted back, and I booted the wide gate. It took a few goes, catching in the grass, but soon it swung home and clicked shut.

  ‘Lean forwards, it’ll help the horse get up the slope,’ Dawn yelled over her shoulder.

  We all scrabbled upwards, the horses seeming to relish the task, even though we were now out of immediate danger and onto the relative safety of the plateau above the South Downs. Soon we saw the glow of the freshly stoked camp fire, and David’s white face as he shook the radio.

  ‘I think the battery’s dead,’ he said, looking up. ‘Hello. Home safe and sound!’

  The dawn sun hung low and feeble on the horizon, dull through the milky clouds. Lou had still not said anything to me, but I was quietly delighted to find her small cold hand finding mine and gripping tight, as
the six of us stood around the campfire. We’d lost one, but gained two, Al said. They had thought they’d lost Floyd as well, soon after they set out into the night. Apparently Floyd had jumped out when Al stopped to check his tyres in Worthing after failing to negotiate some broken glass in the road. He’d bounded north, towards the Downs, and they’d not seen him since. He’d come to find me. Now we had a full brace of hounds again and a small herd of horses, now safely tethered and chewing at the grass. Al told us how they had driven Lou to her mum’s place, a mid-terraced house in West Worthing, but they’d found it completely empty and lifeless. Lou had let herself in, but there was no note, no clues as to her mum’s whereabouts. Lou had assumed the worst, and sat silently in the back of the Audi whilst Jay and Al raided the larder. They’d tried to keep Lou’s spirits up – at least she hadn’t found what Al had seen at his parents’ house, but she was beyond consolation. I loved Lou’s mum, but without any proof of her demise I kept an open mind.

  I was right, Jay was drunk – they’d driven onwards to his parents’ house in Tarring, breaking through the defences he’d left them sheltering behind as quietly as possible. His mother - a large lady with a shock of black hair - had the same filthy, infectious laugh that Jay had. She had a kind heart but an evil sense of humour, a deeply unsettling combination. His dad Jerry was quieter; small, stout and achingly funny, with little round glasses and a snow-white beard. They had only moved in recently, trading in a huge house on a leafy street for a tiny one, hundreds of years old with doorframes that would knock you out unless you ducked your head. Jerry, an accountant, had done some maths about their new house, measuring and mapping all the rooms but something didn’t add up: even taking into account the foot-thick walls, there was a void in the centre of the house, behind a fireplace. The few original houses that remained along their row had been built by a Roman Catholic landowner, and Jerry put two and two together and suggested that it was a priest-hole, designed to quickly hide outlawed priests away from the religiously oppressive laws of the time. He’d never found it, and was unwilling to smash the place up in order to do so.