Searching For Summer: A Zombie Novel

by Midwood, Peter

  When he arrived at his street, the crowd from the other day was back. Piper’s heart sank, and his mind conjured up the image of another comedic show from his parents. As he neared his home, he sensed the sombre mood of the crowd and some of them gasped when they saw him. The blue and white police tape stretched across the front of the house told Piper something was seriously wrong. He ran towards the door but was stopped by a policeman, standing beside it like a palace guard. He saw a man in a white paper suit coming downstairs, holding a clear plastic bag with an empty bottle inside it. “Mum,” he screamed and dodged around the officer.

  The lying policewoman, who had asked him to help her at the station, wrapped her arms around him in the hall and held him still. “That’s far enough, young man,” she said. “You don’t want to go any further. Now, come with me please, back to the car.”

  “No,” Piper said, trying to shrug her off. “Where’s my mum?”

  The policewoman looked at a policeman wearing a flat hat. Piper knew from crime programmes that the flat-hats were in charge. Flat-hat nodded his head, and the policewoman said, “I’m afraid your mum’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Piper said. “Gone where?”

  “I’m sorry, but she’s dead. She passed away in her sleep last night.”

  Piper was taken back to the police station and spent another night with temporary foster parents, different ones this time, who weren’t as nice as the first couple. There were no new pyjamas; they made him sleep in his underpants. Futile attempts were made to track down his father, but he obviously preferred the fancy-free lifestyle with his younger girlfriend over the responsibility of parenthood. Piper was placed in a care home for young boys and grew up hating his father. In fact, he grew up hating everybody except his mother.

  The inquest revealed that Hattie Piper had overdosed on a concoction of Temazepam, Diazepam and Zopiclone, swallowed down with a litre cocktail of vodka, drain cleaner and anti-freeze. His mother wasn’t taking any chances. Piper assumed it was guilt over what had happened the night before, but felt it was an over-reaction. He would never have told anybody. Why spoil a good thing? He kept a picture by his bed for the rest of his life showing him and his mother smiling at a seaside fun fair. In the photo, she was standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders, and he had his hands over hers.

  That was the picture he saw every day, but in his mind’s eye, he held a very different mother and son image: she had her hand on his cock, and he had his hands on her tits.

  14: Arrival

  Summer was startled out of her sleep by the sound of gunfire. She couldn’t remember nodding off, but she felt a little better for it and was grateful her nap had been dreamless. Now that she was awake, her throat was so dry it hurt, and her empty stomach rumbled with a sound like a growling dog. The last time she’d had anything to eat was at breakfast: scrambled eggs on toast made by her mum. The Weston’s last family meal felt like it was aeons in the past when in reality, it was about six hours ago. Another shot rang out, making her jump and she heard her captor say, “Take that, you ugly rotting fucker.”

  Piper fired again, and more shots joined his. “Shoot them in the head,” he shouted. “You’re wasting ammo, you dingbats, shoot them in the head. Oh, never mind, open the fucking gates.”

  A few more shots fired while the van travelled a short distance inside the gates and Summer heard the metallic clang as they closed behind her. Once they were safely inside wherever they were, the shooting stopped. “Is the Preacher in residence?” Piper asked.

  “Yes, Mr Piper,” an unknown voice said. “He’s been expecting you. He asked us to let him know when you arrived.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Piper said. “I’m going to him right now.”

  The van jolted forward again, and Summer fell back onto her rump. After being driven another short distance, the van stopped again. This time, the engine was turned off, and the handbrake applied. Summer had no idea where Piper had taken her, but it had to be better than being locked in the back of his van. The side door slid open, and Summer had to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight.

  “Last stop for Summer,” Piper said, holding out his hand. “Come on, little lady, it’s time for you to meet the Preacher.”

  “I want to know where she is, Preacher,” Zena said.

  “And I’ve already told you, I don’t know.”

  “Well, she was here when we left,” Andrea chipped in. “And you promised us she’d be alright. We aren’t moving until we get some answers.”

  The two women sitting on sofa crossed their arms and stared at Moses, awaiting his response. He leant against the white marble mantle shelf and tried to look innocent while he weighed up his options. He would have to convince them she had run away, or he could just kill them. He heard the back door open, and Piper walked in followed by a dishevelled blonde girl. The two women got up off the sofa, and Andrea held out her arms. “Oh, you poor child,” she said. “Come here.”

  The girl needed no encouragement and ran across the room into her open arms, crying with great whooping sobs. Zena patted Summer on the shoulder and eyed Piper with suspicion. Piper and Moses exchanged glances during the awkward silence which was broken by Zena. “So, what’s her story?”

  “It’s none of your business, ladies, but seen as you feel it is, I’ll tell you.”

  “Good,” Zena said, “because I’m making it my business, mister. Bad things happen to young girls around here. They disappear like poor Sharon seems to have done.”

  “This is my daughter,” Piper said, pointing at Summer. “She’s just witnessed the death of her family, and I’ve brought her here because I know it’s safe.”

  “Amen to that,” Moses said.

  “He’s a liar,” Summer screamed. “He’s not my dad. I hate him, and he’s a murderer. He killed my mum and tried to kill my dad. He left him for the zombies.” She buried her head deeper into Andrea’s shoulder and wept.

  “The girl is clearly deluded,” Piper said, strolling towards the trio. “She probably needs a lie-down.” He reached out for Summer’s arm.

  “Get your hands off her, you bastard,” Zena said, standing in front of Summer. “I’d believe her over you any day, and I believe you’ve killed this poor girl's parents, and brought her here against her own will, haven’t you?”

  Andrea let go of Summer and stood in front of her, so the two women separated her from her captor. “Well, what have you got to say for yourself?”

  Piper pulled a Glock out of the back of his trousers and shot Zena in the face from point blank range. The back of her head blew open, covering Andrea in its contents, and she dropped back into a sitting position on the sofa. Summer ran for the back door, but the Preacher grabbed her around the waist as she passed and lifted her off her feet. “No, darling,” he said. “It’s not safe out there.”

  Andrea’s eyes, wide with disbelief, looked down at her blood-splattered yellow dress and the blood specks on her shins below it. She inspected her bare arms, running her fingers through the clumps of pink and purple sludge covering them. She looked over her shoulder at her dead friend with half of her head missing. Finally, she looked at Piper, her mouth opening and closing, as she struggled to find coherent thought. “Have you got something to say, ma’am, or are you just going to stand there looking like a goldfish?”

  Andrea screamed, and Piper put his fingers in his ears until she had finished. “Have you anything else to say, other than that?”

  She took a deep breath to recommence screaming, but Piper shot her in the chest, and she blew the air out in one puff. She dropped to her knees and held a hand out to Piper as if he might help her to her feet. He swatted it away with the barrel of his gun and Andrea fell sideways. Her head rested on her friend’s lap, and she died.

  Piper strolled over to Summer; she had stopped struggling in Moses’ arms and hung limply in his grasp. “Do you see what you’ve caused here, you troublesome bitch? All you’ve ever done is cause me g
rief, and I’m having no more of it.”

  He levelled his gun at Summer’s face, and the terrified girl whimpered and closed her eyes. “No,” Moses said. “Don’t shoot her, I think she could be the one.”

  “Alright,” Piper said, lowering his weapon. “Have it your way, but I’m warning you now, this girl’s trouble and she might cause you more than she’s worth.”

  “That’s a bit rich coming from you,” Moses said. “Look at the mess you’ve made in here.” He nodded towards the two dead women and the blood-covered sofa.

  Piper sniggered, “Sorry about that, old pal, but I’ve got something that’ll speed up the clean-up. Will you be alright on your own? I’ll only be a minute.”

  When Piper left the room, Summer twisted her neck to look at Moses. “Please don’t let him hurt me, mister. He’s a bad man.”

  Moses let go of Summer, turned her around and looked directly into her big blue eyes. “Call me Preacher, my child, and no I won’t let him hurt you. You’re safe here with me, I promise. I’ll protect you from him and any other threat that comes your way.”

  “Thank you, Preacher,” she said, putting her arms around his neck and nestling into his chest.

  The Preacher’s smile threatened to split his face in two, and he had to push her away slightly, so she wouldn’t feel his erection pressing against her. Piper spoilt the moment when he returned and dropped a large khaki holdall onto the floor. He unzipped it and pulled out two black rubber packages which Moses initially thought were diving suits. His curious frown changed to a smile when he realised what they were. “Body bags,” he said.

  “That’s right,” Piper said, “Taken from the back of an abandoned medic truck. I thought they’d come in useful for situations like this. All we have to do now is dump the corpses inside and drag them downstairs to the van. Hey presto! No more lifting.”

  “Genius,” Moses said, grinning.

  “Yeah, I’ve got my moments,” Piper said. “And I brought plenty of them, which may come in useful when tidying the back stairs and landing. It looks like somebody’s been using it as a morgue.” Moses looked at the floor. “And while we’re doing that, young missy here can clean this mess up. Do you hear me, Summer? I want this sofa looking like it’s just come out of the showroom.”

  The two men set to work, and Summer went into the kitchen looking for cleaning equipment.

  After loading the bodies into the back of the van, Piper stopped at the foot of the stairs. He produced a key out of his pocket and unlocked a door near the dustbin at the side of the stairs. “Home time for me,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” He opened the door a fraction and Moses thought he heard a groan coming from the basement. “Ah-ah,” Piper said, pulling the door closed again. “My place is not for prying eyes. Or ears.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Moses said, heading back upstairs.

  Moses had a spare key for the door, but daren’t use it. What Piper kept in his private lair might not make for pleasant viewing.

  “You probably don’t,” Piper said and stepped through the door.

  Summer was scrubbing away at the sofa when Moses re-entered his apartment, and his loins stirred again, as he watched her little backside swaying from side to side as she worked. He gave his crotch a squeeze before he walked over to where she was cleaning and knelt down beside her. “He’s gone, my child, you’re safe now.”

  “Thank you, Preacher,” Summer said, turning to face him. A clump of soap bubbles stuck to her chin, making her look adorable, and Moses’ pulse raced.

  “What a fine job you’re doing of cleaning that mess up. When you’ve finished, perhaps you’d like a nice hot shower, while I make us something to eat? I think you’ve earned it, don’t you?”

  The thought of soaking under pulsating jets of hot water made Summer go weak at the knees. “Thank you, Preacher,” she said, “Thank you for your kindness.”

  “It’s God’s kindness, my child. He has delivered you unto me, and it is my duty, as His servant, to look after you.”

  “In that case, I thank you, and I thank God.”

  “Bless you, my child.”

  He rose to his feet and walked to the bathroom to wash his hands, the handling of corpses, whether they were in body bags or not, was very unhygienic. He smiled at himself in front of the mirror as he soaped up, pleased with the girl he had. She was beautiful, and he was determined not to mess this one up, he would groom her right. She would be the first one to bear his child and start the master race.

  He could hear her singing, while he rinsed his hands, it was a boy band tune he remembered from the days when radios broadcasted music. Her voice was slightly husky, and she sang with the merry abandon of somebody happy in their work. Moses guffawed at Piper’s warning. How could somebody like her possibly cause him any trouble?

  15: Car Shopping

  Danny pulled off the motorway and followed the signs for ‘Roughing It’, a nationwide retailer which specialised in 4x4s and tourers. He had been there once before when he and his wife came to look at camper vans. It was in the pre-Summer days of their marriage, and Lydia had wanted to tour the Lake District for their annual holiday, over-romanticizing the idea of spending nights alone, under a starlit sky. The holiday never happened, the tourers cost a lot more than they expected, so Lydia changed her ideology of the perfect holiday, and they went to Benidorm.

  Danny drove onto the forecourt, and his hopes of driving away in a brand-new Land Rover disappeared. The lot was empty, and all of the showroom windows smashed. Large chunks of glass hung precariously from the tops of the frames like lethal stalactites. “It’s all gone, sir,” Simon said, from beside him. “There’s nothing left.”

  “And that, young man, just about sums up the world of today.”

  He trundled past the ransacked sales area and turned two sharp lefts to reach the rear of the store and the service yard. He brought the car to a halt in front of a Portakabin and surveyed his surroundings. Simon’s head constantly turned from side to side, like a sonar dish, as he joined in the surveillance. “I’m going to take a look around,” Danny said. “Stay here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Simon said, and Danny heard the doors lock as soon as he stepped outside.

  The Portakabin was a sickly pond-green colour, and deep scratches scarred the matching door. Security grills protected the windows, and net curtains prevented Danny from seeing inside. He drew his gun and pressed his ear against the door. Everything was quiet, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was empty, there could still be zombies inside. Without visual or audible stimulation, the undead will sometimes go into a trance and remain motionless, but this didn’t make them any less dangerous. If anything, it made them more savage on waking, as if the self-induced stupor had increased their hunger like a bear coming out of hibernation.

  Danny pressed the handle down, and the door swung inwards, with a squeal of protest from the hinges. He grimaced at the noise and jumped back off the breeze-block step, levelling his gun at the doorway. Half a minute passed without event, and Danny turned to give Simon a thumbs-up, before stepping into the building. The boy didn’t return the gesture; he merely stared back, hands and face on the glass, looking terrified.

  The inside of the cabin was ransacked. An upended desk stood at one end of the office with the wooden drawers smashed to pieces beside it. A filing cabinet lay on its side with all six drawers open, finance records of never-to-be-repaid loans and threats of legal action littered the floor. A telephone had been smashed through the top of a photocopier, and in the corner of the room, an empty water dispenser lay on its back in a puddle of its former contents.

  Danny was about to leave when he noticed footprints on the papers covering the floor and they weren’t the aimless shuffling tracks left by zombies. They went straight to a white metal box on the wall and back to the door. Danny went to the box.

  Simon spotted the first of the zombies at the same time that Danny went into the cabin, but it was a long way off, a
nd he didn’t think Danny would be long. It staggered out of a caravan at the bottom end of the yard, and after hobbling around in a circle, it headed towards the police car. Another two of its kind emerged from the caravan, wearing the same green mechanic’s overalls and followed the leader. Simon wasn’t immediately alarmed. If he thought the twitchers were getting too close, he would run in and tell Danny. He was so busy watching them that he didn’t notice the cluster of four undead stepping through the glassless display window behind him.

  Danny opened the metal box and found it to be empty. Several little hooks inside told him it had once been a key cabinet and he assumed the footprints were those of an opportunist checking it on a pilfering mission. He pushed the door shut, but it sprung open, and a folded piece of paper fell out onto the floor. He picked it up and unfolded it to reveal a message written in black marker pen: ALIVE INSIDE THE MOT CENTRE. He looked through the window behind the ruined desk and saw the building named in the note, but his train of thought halted when he heard the honk of his car horn.

  Simon hadn’t intended to sound the horn. He knew that loud noises attracted zombies like droning motors drew bees, but when a rotting grey face thudded against the passenger side window, he screamed and instinctively jumped away. He landed in the driver’s seat and accidently leant on the centre of the steering wheel, sounding the horn. He glanced down the yard and saw the three ghouls in green adjust their direction, so they were heading straight towards him. A young zombie boy with part of its skull visible clambered onto the bonnet and clawed at the windscreen. Simon pressed the wheel’s middle again, this time intentionally.

  Danny came running out of the cabin, gun in hand and charged towards his car. A family of four zombies surrounded the vehicle, and they may once have been a family unit. Brother and sister were on the bonnet while Mum and Dad were poking and slapping at the glass of the front doors. As far as Danny was aware, they were incapable of operating door handles, but they might open one by chance if Simon accidently released the central locking.