Searching For Summer: A Zombie Novel

by Midwood, Peter

  The door creaked when Moses opened it, and the three occupants looked up from what they were doing. Lenny was at the rear of the building, taking a cutting from a grape vine and the two girls were near the door watering tomato plants in grow bags. Moses smiled at them and nodded, using the motion to look the girls up and down. He was pleased to see both girls had breasts, not very big ones, but they were there.

  “Good morning, Preacher,” Lenny said. “Let me introduce you to our two new residents: Kirsty and Roberta. They found their way here by the grace of God, four days ago, and were so malnourished they had to spend time in the infirmary, but they’re on the mend now and ready for service. I’ve brought them here until they are appointed more permanent positions. And you’ve been a good help, haven’t you, girls?”

  The two newcomers giggled, and Moses stepped between the pair and put an arm around each of them. “The Lord has delivered you safely to our haven, so let us spend a moment in silent prayer to show our gratitude.”

  They all bowed heads and Moses used the time to think of a viable reason to take them. “Amen,” Moses said, and the others repeated it.

  “Lenny, I have found a position for the girls, they are to work directly for me. How would you like that, ladies?” The pair smiled at being addressed as adults and nodded in unison. “Good, that’s settled then.”

  He used his arms to turn the girls around and guided them towards the door; he had almost reached it when Lenny said, “What exactly will they be doing for you, Preacher, if I may ask?”

  A raged swelled inside Moses, but he turned around, smiling. “They will be cooking and cleaning for me,” he said. “Think of them as divine housemaids.”

  “Begging your pardon, Preacher, but don’t you eat with everybody else and have cleaners come in once a day, already?”

  Moses saw a pair of secateurs hanging on a hook and imagined sticking them in Lenny’s eye, stilling those irksome dancing eyebrows for good. “For your information, Mr Kingsley, I don’t always attend communal meals. Sometimes, I fast and sometimes, I entertain guests in private, thanking them for services rendered. And as for the cleaning crew, things were going missing after they’d been. I suspect one or more of them has been stealing from me, after everything I’ve done for them. So, from now on, I will be employing house staff, starting with these two pretty young ladies.”

  “I’m sorry, Preacher, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Then please don’t. You tend to your plants, Lenny, and let me look after things my way and God’s way.”

  He turned his back on the gardener and ushered the girls out the door.

  Summer was lying on her back, dressed in the pristine white gown which the Preacher had given her, staring up at the ceiling. She wondered if her dad was still alive and looking for her. She hoped he was and would join her here. They could both live happily ever after, in the safety of The Castle. It was nice here, she felt safe in the care of the Preacher, and she was sure he would welcome Dad as he had her. The Preacher was kind too, letting her stay in his luxurious apartment. He even thought to lock her in her room while he nipped out, so she was safe in case of a zombie attack.

  She heard the key turn in the lock and swung her legs over the side of the bed to bring herself into a sitting position. The door opened inwards, and two girls, slightly younger than Summer walked into the room followed by the Preacher. They each carried a white gown, identical to the one Summer wore.

  “Summer, I’d like you to meet Kirsty and Roberta,” the Preacher said. “Please make them feel at home.”

  Summer saw the troubled looks on the girls’ faces and approached them, wearing her warmest smile. The Preacher nodded his approval and left the room.

  “It’s ok, you two,” Summer said. “You’re going to be fine here. The Preacher will look after you. You’re both safe now.”

  “He grabbed my breasts,” Roberta said. “Right outside the door.”

  “And he squeezed my bum,” Kirsty added. “We’re not safe here. We’re not safe at all.”

  “I’m sorry, Preacher, we simply cannot manage without them, and that’s all there is to it,” Alison Melham said, raising her voice above the noise of the machinery.

  Moses looked at the row of industrial washing machines along the back wall and imagined her going around and around inside one of them.

  “That’s fine, my child,” he said, smiling. “I can see their work here is invaluable, and I shall happily leave them with you.”

  Behind Alison, a row of women ironed bed linen, and behind them, Moses saw the two children he sought. They were separating whites from a pile of clothes on the floor and putting them into a big blue basket. They both looked up and smiled at him, setting his pulse racing. He saw the twinkles in their eyes and the freckles which dotted their cherubic faces; he had to have them.

  “We’re not young women anymore,” Alison said, and the ironing ladies chuckled in agreement. “And Pattie and Collette do a lot of the legwork for us. They collect the clothes left in the laundry bags and bring them all down here. That’s a lot of trips up and downstairs for women our age.” She gestured at the nodding women behind her, and Moses imagined hitting each and every one of them with an uppercut. As their chins came down, his fist went up. “They also take everything back, after it’s ironed, doing the same number of trips. So, I’m afraid we really can’t spare them, Preacher.

  “And it’s really alright, Alison,” Moses said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Long may they serve you and this holy community and long may we all serve God.”

  “Amen,” some of the women said as he left the room, without the girls he came for.

  But Moses wasn’t going to be denied his prize by a geriatric washer-woman. He would have Piper take the girls later.

  Sometimes, people came into The Castle infected, and when this happened, the victim had to be put down. It had to be a bullet to the head, and nowadays, this was an accepted method of execution; a humane way of saving somebody from a fate worse than death, which is what turning into a zombie was seen to be. Piper was the appointed euthanasiast and very efficient he was too, but sometimes he didn’t kill them. Instead, he took them to his basement lair, as he had done with the young man hanging from a hook on the ceiling.

  A week ago, the young man had ridden up to the gates on a pizza delivery moped and pleaded to be let in. He had been allowed admittance and as is the rule with all new arrivals, subjected to a full body inspection. During the examination, the inspector discovered a bite mark on his upper left arm, and despite the man’s pleas, he was quarantined. There were no medical facilities attached to the quarantine zone, it was a room near the back door on the ground floor, chosen for the convenience of removing the body, and as was expected, the new arrival promptly died in there. Piper was called to remove him and took the young man to his subterranean chamber, while he was temporarily dead. When the zombie opened its eyes, its was suspended by its shackled arms from a hook fixed to a ceiling joist.

  Piper was amazed by these creatures and their complete lack of compliance with any laws of nature. The twitcher had been hanging there for five days while Piper went out on an excursion, but it hadn’t starved to death. It didn’t seem to matter whether they ate or not. He stood before it, watching the incapacitated creature make ambitious lunges towards him, gnashing its teeth and hissing. Piper raised the machete he held and made as if to swing at it, but the zombie never even flinched. “What’s the story with you lot?” he said. “What drives you on and how does it feel to be dead?”

  He swung the heavy blade into the side of its rib cage and wrenched it free. The creature squirmed but showed no signs of pain. He swung the weapon a second time, cutting a horizontal rent all the way across its abdomen and stepped back off the polyethene sheet, covering the floor below it. The wound widened, and the creature’s insides dropped out in a sea of rancid black gunk. Piper rolled up a sleeve and held his exposed forearm close to his prisoner’s face, sending the dis
embowelled zombie into a frenzy. It thrashed back and forwards in the chains, snapping its jaws like a rabid dog.

  He lowered and raised his arm, teasing the zombie and laughed at its reactions. “And why the fuck do you want to eat when your stomach is on the floor?”

  He was about to swing the machete into the zombie’s head when a knock on the door stopped him from delivering the death blow. “This is your lucky day,” he said.

  Pattie and Colette walked across the lawn separating the launderette from the main building, where everybody lived. Both girls were in high spirits, having finally found a safe place to live and feeling the day’s work they had just done was a good service for the community that had adopted them. They had been allowed to leave before the adults (children were not allowed to work more than six hours a day) although, both girls would have gladly stayed to help.

  As the pair passed an ornate tree, shaped like a giant lollipop, a figure stepped out from behind it, blocking their path. He was a short, stocky man, wearing thick glasses and the tufts of fuzzy black hair on either side of his head reminded Pattie of ear muffs. His eyes looked huge through the thick lenses of his black-rimmed spectacles, and his piercing gaze never left the girls’ faces. Colette was about to ask him what he wanted when the stranger spoke. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said smiling. “I have a message from the one they call the Preacher.”

  “Is he the man who came to the launderette earlier?” Pattie asked.

  “He is, my dear, and please don’t interrupt me again.” Frown lines creased his forehead, and his hands balled into fists. “It’s very rude.”

  “I’m sorry,” Pattie said, stepping back a pace and taking Colette’s hand to tug her backwards.

  “Stay right there, missy. Not one more step. Do you hear?” The girls stopped moving. “That’s good. Now, back to business. The Preacher has requested that you join him for dinner, as a reward for all your hard work and as a welcome to the community. He lives in that big house over there.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “So, if you’d care to follow me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you, mister. You scare me,” Colette said. “I think we’ll just go back to the launderette and see what Alison has to say about it.”

  Piper shot forward, with speed that defied his build, and punched Colette in the face, knocking her flat on her back. Pattie turned and ran; she was about to give voice to a scream when she was shoved so hard from behind that the air shot out of her lungs. She stumbled forwards and fell face down on the grass. Immediately, she tried to scramble away on her hands and knees, but Piper grabbed hold of her ponytail. He pulled her head back so far that her neck creaked. She felt cold steel press into the soft skin below her Adam’s apple. “If you scream, I’ll slit your throat.”

  Pattie couldn’t help herself and screamed anyway.

  Piper was true to his word, he drew the knife from left to right, slicing through her windpipe. Pattie’s short-lived scream became a gargle as she choked on her blood. “You should've listened, girl. I don’t make idle threats.”

  He walked back to the girl he had punched and kicked her in the ribs. “Get up,” he said. “Do it now and do it silently or you’ll never get up again.” The girl got to her feet and swayed on unsteady legs. “Well done, Bambi. Now, wait here while I get your dead friend and not a sound or you’ll be joining her in the great hereafter.”

  As Colette’s senses returned, a pain flared in her nose, and her eyes streamed. Tears of pain turned to tears of sadness as the words of the madman sunk in. He had killed her only friend. The two girls had arrived at The Castle on the same day, but in separate parties and had made friends, instantly. At fourteen years old, Colette made a point of looking after the twelve-year-old Pattie; A duty she had unknowingly assumed to replace the death of her younger sister at the start of the outbreak. A kick up the backside jolted her out of her thoughts and sent her into a quick march. “Move it, girl. You’ve got a dinner date to attend.”

  Piper caught up with her and walked by her side, carrying the lifeless body of Pattie in his arms, like a sleeping baby. Colette saw that the whole of her shirt front was covered in blood as if she were wearing a red bib. She had to bite her lip to stifle a scream of her own. “Where are you taking my friend?” she asked.

  “The chapel of rest, dear,” Piper said. “I can’t just leave her dead on the grass. What sort of a person do you think I am?”

  18: Pip

  “Look up there, sir,” Simon said, pointing through the windscreen. “Other people are alive.”

  Danny had been too busy familiarising himself with the controls of his new vehicle to pay any attention to his surroundings, but he slowed the Land Rover to a crawl and looked to where Simon pointed. The words ‘ALIVE INSIDE’ were sprayed on the blank side of a reversed advertising banner in red paint. The sign hung from high-level windows of an office block, and the tattered edges fluttered in the wind like waving fingers.

  “I’m not convinced,” Danny said. “That sign’s been there a while, look at the state of it.”

  “Never mind the sign, sir. Someone’s alive, just watch.” Right on cue, somebody waved in a window to the right of the banner. “Did you see that, sir?”

  “I saw it, Simon, and we’ll check it out, but don’t get too excited. Not everybody has honourable intentions.”

  “If they’re bad guys, I’m sure you can handle them.”

  Danny smiled and flashed the Land Rover’s headlights. “Let’s go find out.”

  He drove slowly towards the office block, checking all three mirrors for any signs of an ambush, but all was clear. As they approached the building, the door at the top of a black metal fire escape opened outwards, and a white flag waved in the doorway. In the rear-view mirror, Danny spotted a group of zombies limping after them, and when he looked again, their numbers had doubled. It was frightening how fast the creatures were multiplying. One thing was certain, their visit would have to be a quick one, or they would be trapped inside by an ever-growing horde of flesh-eaters.

  Danny parked the car at the foot of the fire escape, which zig-zagged up the side of the building. When he stepped out of the car, the familiar smell of decay assaulted his nostrils and a small pile of rotting corpses, behind the first flight of stairs, showed him the source of the odour. Before he could tell Simon to wait in the car, the boy was out and bounding up the steps, two at a time. Danny drew his Glock and followed him up, struggling to keep the boy’s pace. Their combined footfalls on the hollow metal treads clanged like church bells ringing out, beckoning zombies for a feast.

  When he reached the top, Simon stopped on the landing outside the open door and waited for Danny, who arrived a short time later, puffing and panting. “What kept you, slowcoach?”

  Danny bent forward with his hands on his knees until he’d caught his breath enough to be able to talk. He smiled at the boy and said, “Well one thing’s for sure, my young friend, we’ve lost the element of surprise.”

  “Damn right you have,” a female voice said, from inside the building. “Now, step inside and toss that piece you’re holding.”

  Danny crossed the threshold and re-holstered his weapon. Simon followed him in but loitered near the door. A young woman held a high-powered rifle with the stock tight against her shoulder. The scope was almost as long as the barrel and Danny assumed the crosshairs were over his heart, unnecessary as they were from this distance.

  “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’m not surrendering my weapon, not to you or anybody. It’ll stay in my holster unless I think it’s necessary to draw it, and I’d be grateful if you’d lower yours.”

  The woman noticed Danny’s uniform. “Are you a real policeman?”

  “He sure is,” Simon answered for him. “A real good guy. Maybe, the only one left.”

  “That’s right,” Danny said. “Although there’s not as much paperwork involved nowadays.”

  A little laugh escaped the woman’s lips, and she lowered
the rifle. “It’s the same in this office,” she said.

  Danny looked beyond her and saw the floor strewn with bodies; he counted at least twenty. She saw him looking and turned to look at the small-scale massacre behind her. “Is this your handiwork?” Danny asked.

  “Yes and no,” the woman said. “To start with, I had some helpers, but in the end, I had to kill them all. To cut a long story short, me and my workmates thought it would be best if we holed-up in here until help came. Safety in numbers and all that. Most of us were single, and the few married ones stayed anyway. One of them even brought his wife and kid. They’re dead in the manager’s office by the way. It just seemed right to keep them together, even though the mum attacked the daughter and the dad shot them both.”

  She wiped a tear from her eye, and Danny remained quiet, noticing the woman’s hair for the first time. Close cropped raven-black spikes stood up on top of her head in uneven clumps like a badly cut lawn, and the sides cut so close that her scalp showed through in places. Covering the nape of her neck was a feeble attempt at a ponytail that looked more like a snake’s tongue. She saw him looking and ran a hand over her head, trying to smooth down a wayward tuft over her right ear. “What?” she said.

  “I was thinking maybe you should shoot your hairdresser.”

  Simon sucked in a gulp of air and clasped his hand over his mouth. He backed out onto the landing, his eyes the widest Danny had ever seen them.

  “Your little friend’s got some sense. Unlike you, insulting my personal appearance when a complement would’ve bowled me over. Do you want to know why I look like this?” She held the rifle between her knees and used the thumb and forefinger of each hand to frame her head. “It’s because one of those fucking things grabbed hold of my hair and tried to take a bite out of my shoulder. If I hadn’t cut through my flowing locks, which I’d spent all my adult life grooming to perfection, it would have succeeded. Do you know what happens if a twitcher bites you?”