Searching For Summer: A Zombie Novel

by Midwood, Peter

  He took out the biggest threat first, shooting both parents in the head. They dropped to the floor, and the two child ghouls slid off the bonnet and lumbered towards him. Simon’s frantic waving and pointing behind them caught his attention, and he shot the zombie children, before focusing on his companion. Simon pointed at the three zombies tottering down the yard, but they were too far away to class as a threat, so Danny ignored them. He went to his car, and as he arrived, Simon unlocked it and shuffled across into the passenger seat.

  “Are you okay?” Danny said, starting the engine.

  “Yes, sir,” Simon replied. “But I was scared for a bit there.”

  “So was I, Simon, but it’s alright to be scared, it keeps you on your toes, and that could be the difference between life and death. Now close your eyes.”

  Simon closed them and felt the car accelerate. The car sped straight for the trio of zombie mechanics, and Danny ploughed into them at just over forty miles per hour. One of them fell to the left and out of sight, another rolled down the driver’s side in a crumpled heap, and the third, Danny hit front centre, splitting it in half at the waist. For a second, it clung to the grill, then lost its grip and fell away to the left. In the rear-view mirror, Danny saw it pulling itself along by its arms. The other two tried to stand on pulverised legs, but gave up and followed the leader in a crawl.

  “Wow,” Simon said, turning in his seat. “They’re still coming.”

  “Yeah, you can’t knock their resilience,” Danny said, pulling up outside the MOT Centre. “Now, let’s see if anybody’s home. Simon, you stay here, in case I have to make a hasty retreat and honk the horn again if you see any more of those things, but sooner this time.”

  “I didn’t see them, sir. They sneaked up on me.”

  “Then pay more attention, young man. We can’t afford to get caught with our guards down.”

  He left the engine running and approached the sliding concertina door. Just above the pull handle was a vision panel, and Danny peered inside. Through the darkness of the interior, a blood trail disappeared into the gloom. He gave the handle a firm tug, but the door was locked. He rapped on the glass pane and said, “Hello. Is anybody there? I read your note in the office. I’m a police officer, and I’m here to help.”

  Danny heard movement behind the steel shutter and stood back, undid his holster clasp and placed his hand on the butt of his pistol.

  16: Greg

  Danny heard a key turning in the lock and tightened his grip on the gun. In the shiny steel door, he saw the reflection of his battered car and Simon’s face looking back at him with that perpetually terrified expression. He looked to the left of his car at the trio of crippled zombies trying to pull themselves along. They hadn’t got very far since he’d skittled them and at the rate they were going, it would take them rest of the day to reach him.

  The garage door slid open to reveal an elderly man who looked near death. His skin was almost as white as his wispy hair, and the grey bags under his eyes matched the stubble on his chin. Tucked under his arm was an improvised crutch - an inverted sweeping brush with a green towel wrapped around the bristles. He puffed and panted from the effort of opening the door and beads of sweat dappled his face. He looked at Danny’s hand on his gun and smiled. “You won’t need that, officer. Come on in, and bring the boy. I’ve got chocolate.”

  He turned his back and limped away, leaving Danny to ponder the invitation. He slid the door all way open, flooding the inside with daylight and saw nothing to alarm him. A single Land Rover, covered with a dust sheet, was all that remained of a once-thriving business and looked it dwarfed in the vastness of its surroundings. He got back into his car and ruffled Simon’s tight curly locks. “It looks like we might have found our new car, pal,” he said, starting the engine.

  After Danny had driven inside, the garage’s occupant returned to the door and struggled to push it closed. He and Simon hurried out of the car to help him, and the injured man let them take over. He did a double take when he noticed Simon’s skin colour. “I guess you two aren’t father and son.”

  “He’s all I’ve got,” Simon said, and Danny couldn’t decide if it was a compliment or not.

  The man saw the uncertainty in Danny’s face and laughed. “The name’s Greg,” he said holding out his hand. Danny shook it, trying not to wince at the cold clamminess of Greg’s feeble grip, and told him their names. “Follow me, Simon, I’ve got something you’ll like.” He paused to look at the crumpled passenger side of Danny’s police car, covered in blood and dirt. “I hope you’re not here to get your car fixed.”

  Simon smiled and walked alongside him, holding back his gait to match Greg’s sluggish pace. Danny followed a few steps behind them, checking out the garage. His hand had gone back to resting on his gun, and as they passed workbenches and tool chests, he was mindful of any hidey-holes from where he could be ambushed. Everything seemed okay, but it’s wise to be conscious, not afraid of your surroundings. Fear paralyses while consciousness mobilises.

  As they reached the end of the garage, Simon sprinted ahead of Greg and Danny smiled when he saw him reach a vending machine. Simon clapped his hands in delight and started pushing buttons at random on a panel to the right of the glass front.

  “It’s no use pressing them, sonny,” Greg said, limping over to him. “There hasn’t been any power here for weeks.” He turned to look at Danny. “I used to have a generator in here, but the fumes damned near killed me. I tried moving it outside and running cables through that air brick I smashed out,” he pointed to a piece of plywood screwed to the wall, “but the noise attracted twitchers. Some of them stuck their arms through the hole I’d made, which freaked me out, so I boarded it up and learnt to get by without it.” He gave the front of the machine a good pull, and the glass door swung open. “Help yourself, my young friend,” he said, and Simon reached inside.

  “What happened to your leg?” Danny said. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “No, I don’t mind. I’ve been here on my own here for as far back as I care to think. I used to have Lance, Jed and Will as company ‘til they changed. They’re the three twitchers you ran down coming over here from the office. They were mechanics, just like I am, and I’d worked with Lance since this place opened, fifteen years ago. The other two had been here five or six, and we were close, but Lance was the best friend I ever had, or probably ever will. I couldn’t bring myself to kill him, or the other two, for that matter.” He reached into the vending machine and took the penultimate bottle of Coke, twisted off the cap and drank heavily from the plastic bottle. “If I’m talking a lot, I apologise, but living in isolation can make a man awful chatty when he has company.”

  “Carry on, my friend,” Danny said, selecting a bottle of 7-Up.

  “Not long after things started going bad, Lance came into work with his hand bandaged up and said his wife had gone mad and bitten him. The same day, Will showed up with his arm bandaged, claiming he’d been bitten by his daughter. Jed turned in late, which wasn’t like him, with the side of his head all patched up. He’d been bitten by his young son, said he bit right through the bottom half of his ear and he’d never felt pain like it.

  “Anyhow, we all agreed to stay at work and carry on as normal, trying to bring normality into chaos, but it never happened. All three of my friends died that day. Not at the same time, but close enough for it not to matter. I laid them all down by the main door and sat watching them, holding an axe, meaning to finish them when they rose again. But as I’ve said, I’d known these guys a long time, so I just dragged them outside while they were still dead and left them there, covered up with oily rags we’d used to wipe engines down.”

  He wiped a tear from his eye and Danny put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What about your leg?”

  “I’m getting to it,” he said. “Give a man a chance. I put a massive sign on the notice board of the office, similar to the one you read, but it wasn’t my best idea. A mob looted
the showroom, led by the manager himself. He knew the spare keys were kept in the Portakabin and when he plundered them, the mob saw my sign. Half-a-dozen angry men in Land Rovers came speeding down and started banging and yanking on the door. Thankfully, I’d had the sense to lock it, but I don’t mind admitting I was scared to death. It looked like they had a lynching on their minds instead of rescue, even though I’d done nothing wrong. Fortunately, the door held and a pack of zombies interrupted their attempted break-in.

  “Two days later, I stuck a more discrete note inside the key cupboard, hoping it’d be found by someone less aggressive. I figured anybody who saw the box on the wall would have to take a look inside it, just out of curiosity. And it worked with you, didn’t it officer?”

  “Yeah, I’ll give you that,” Danny said.

  “Anyhow, I used to check the cabin every day, to see if my note had been found and always took another, just in case it had and the finder didn’t give a fuck. Excuse my language, sonny.”

  Simon was sitting on a large cushion on the floor, which might once have been a dog bed, and didn’t hear Greg’s apology over the chomping noises he made, stuffing his face with chocolate. The two men sat on oil-stained deck chairs opposite him and drank their sodas.

  “I used to cycle to the office and back, always mindful of those creatures lurking around, and I used to see Lance, Jed and Will daily. They were almost unrecognisable and got worse by the day, and they sure didn’t recognise me. They were always in that old caravan outside, which used to be our tea-hut, like ghosts in a haunted house. They’d lumber after me on my bike, but I’d always leave them standing, or staggering as the case may be.” He laughed a dry throaty rasp which instantly turned into a coughing fit. He regained his composure and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Danny noted that when Greg moved his hand away, there was blood it. “If I thought they were too near the cabin, I’d lure them away and not go in until I was happy with the distance between us.

  “This morning, I got complacent. I never thought any more of those things would come here, and I only had to look out for my former colleagues, but when I came out of the cabin, a zombie girl was there. She was only young, probably early teens and wearing the remnants of a school uniform. She had long ginger hair, almost down to her waist, caked in mud and grass stains. She was spinning the pedal of my bike and hissed at me when I came to the door. My three old mates were on their way down, as always, and I needed my bike to get past them, so I kicked the girl in the chest to get her away from my bike. Unfortunately, she gripped hold of the pedal, and the bike fell on top of her.

  “I stepped outside and yanked the bike off her, but she held on tight to the pedal, and it became a tug-of-war. I looked at Lance and co and saw the distance between us was getting perilously close, so I stomped on the girl’s fingers, severing them at the knuckle. I swung my leg over the crossbar and tried to pedal, but couldn’t. I looked down and saw the girl’s long hair had become entangled in the back sprocket. I dismounted and stamped on her head until the tangled hair was ripped out and remounted the bike.

  “By this time, Lance and the gang were almost upon me and still coming with arms outstretched, like they were all set to grab me. I was all flustered and couldn’t get my foot on the pedal to start moving. Suddenly, the girl sprang forward and sank her teeth into my calf. The pain was indescribable, but it got me moving. I sped off and wove around my friends, barely avoiding their arms when they swung for me. I got back here in record time and never was I more pleased to see the workplace.”

  He took a long swig of his pop and looked at Danny, who was staring intently at the label of his drink as if he was reading a good book. Simon stopped chewing and stared at Danny from the dog bed, but no one spoke. They didn’t have to.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” Greg said. “As soon as I got back here, I flushed the wound out with antiseptic and bandaged it up just fine. All you have to do, officer, is drive me to a hospital and leave me there. I’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

  Simon was about to speak, but he saw Danny purse his lips slightly, his secret way of telling him to shush.

  “Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Danny asked.

  “Go ahead,” Greg said. “But remember, you ain’t no doctor, so don’t be diagnosing me.” He pulled an inverted milk crate towards him, currently being used as a table, and took four mismatched mugs off it. With a groan, he lifted his leg onto it and pulled up his trouser leg, to reveal a bloody bandage. “How is it?” he asked, looking away.

  Danny took a spoon from one of the cups and used it to prise the lint dressing away from the flesh. There was a muffled ripping sound like Velcro being pulled apart, and he almost gagged at the foul smell which wafted out. Even Simon, sitting three meters away, discreetly held his nose by pretending he was scratching an itch on his face. Danny peered under the dressing and tried not to look like a judge passing a death sentence.

  A cavernous purple hole at the top of Greg’s calf oozed blood which dripped through the saturated bandage. The bloated flesh around the wound was amber, and yellow, pus-filled sores surrounded the cerise edge of the crater in his leg. Beyond the bandage, swollen midnight-blue veins distributed poison to the rest of his body. Danny thought Greg would be lucky to see the afternoon out.

  “I said, how’s it looking, officer?”

  “It’s fine, Greg,” Danny answered, replacing the bandage. “But we need to get you to a hospital, right now.”

  “I’ll get some stuff together,” Greg said, lifting his leg off the crate with a grimace. “We can take my Land Rover. I’ve made some modifications to it, seen as I’ve had the time. Business has been kind of slack lately.” He laughed again, and it also petered out into a cough. “Go on, take a look at my handiwork.”

  He used his makeshift crutch to hobble behind a screen in the corner, made from blankets draped over a rope. Blood dribbled out of the bottom of his trousers as he limped along, but he either didn’t notice or chose not to.

  The pair approached Greg’s vehicle, and Danny pulled the sheet off it and smiled. The scoops from industrial earth-moving machinery had been welded to the front and rear of it, turning it into a bulldozer. The speed and horsepower of the Land Rover combined with its custom body armour would make it a formidable crowd disperser, ideal for modern travel. “Simon, start transferring our things from the police car into this.”

  Simon was about to protest that the vehicles were at opposite ends of the garage, but the look in Danny’s eyes told him he should do it without question. Danny watched the boy walk away and returned to Greg’s living area.

  Halfway down the garage, Simon heard a gunshot. He turned around and saw Danny emerge from behind the screen, alone.

  17: Harem

  Moses looked down from his balcony at the crowd gathered before him and wasn’t impressed by what he saw. His congregation consisted mostly of middle-aged men and elderly bible-clutching women. Of the dozen children present, seven were boys, and only three of the remaining girls were suitable for motherhood, but he would keep all of them in his quarters, they would do for the future. Except for the little fat one, with a face like a startled pug, she had no place as a concubine.

  After Summer’s arrival, he called a mid-afternoon meeting, insisting that everybody must be present, as he had something for them all to hear. As Moses went into his spiel about God visiting him last night, men and women gazed up at him all starry-eyed, he even spotted an old dear crying, but Moses wasn’t interested in them. He was using the sermon to inspect the population and pick out young girls suitable to bear his children. Summer had lit a flame in his loins, and he was collecting fuel for the fire.

  When he had finished, and the audience had disbanded, he walked amongst them as they carried out their daily duties, chatting with those he couldn’t avoid on his hunt for the girls. After a bit of delicate inquiring, he learned that two of the girls were working in the greenhouse and the other two he so
ught were helping with the laundry. Seen as he was outdoors, he opted for visiting the greenhouse first.

  Moses had the greenhouse built after he had secured The Castle as his stronghold. He was aware that for his community to become self-sufficient, they must learn how to grow their own food and the best way to do this was by making use of a greenhouse. Moses knew little about horticulture, but he knew enough to know that it was a necessity. A dozen volunteers had driven a flat-bed truck to a nearby garden centre, on a quest to bring back as many components as they could and hopefully, they’d have enough to build a structure large enough to sustain the community.

  Half a day later, a party of eight returned from the mission, laden with materials, and the same crew built an eight-by-ten-meter greenhouse on the patio behind Moses’ quarters. Moses picked the site because of its full-sun position and adjacent water supply, but more importantly, he could watch over it and ensure nobody helped themselves to the produce it would yield. Moses declared the operation a success and said a prayer for the fallen comrades, but what’s the death of four people in comparison to a lifetime supply of tomatoes? The morons never thought to get any plants or seeds, though. Moses had to send Piper back for them. Some people just couldn’t think for themselves; it’s a good job they had him as their leader.

  The horticultural side of things had been taken on by Leonard Kingsley, a rotund man with a big ginger beard and eyebrows that wouldn’t stay still. Moses neither knew nor cared if the man had any agricultural background or qualifications. All that mattered was Lenny could grow stuff, everything he planted was a success, and in the short time he had been flexing his green fingers, he had grown an impressive variety of fruit and veg. As he approached the greenhouse, Moses could barely see him amongst the greenery, but he could see the white dresses of the two girls in there.