Searching For Summer: A Zombie Novel

by Midwood, Peter

  Oliver looked up at his father, chewing noisily on his bloody mouthful as he got to his feet. He growled like a feral dog and charged. Bruce picked him up and keeping his son at arm’s length, threw him inside the car, slammed the door and locked it with the remote sensor. Immediately, Oliver’s face bumped against the driver’s door window, smearing the inside of the glass red, seemingly confused by the invisible barrier. Bruce knew his son’s makeshift prison wouldn’t detain him for long, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

  Bruce staggered inside, clutching the gushing wound just below his left ear and tried to call an ambulance. An automated voice informed him that he was number one-hundred-and-seventy-six in the queue and he feared he would bleed to death before his call was answered, so he administered his own first aid by tying one of his wife’s Maxi-pads to his neck with a pillowcase.

  His wife never came home, which was strange, seen as she must have collected Oliver from pre-school nursery and he was baffled by her absence. If he thought too hard, his head hurt so he didn’t dwell on the matter. All of a sudden, he was overcome with fatigue and went to bed with his son still locked in the car. Just after midnight, he died and just before dawn, he came back.

  Looters had sacked his house during the night, but Bruce cared nothing for his missing property, all he wanted was food. A craving for warm flesh drove him onwards with a pivotal yearning which he couldn’t ignore. He had to feed. He must feed. His only quest from now on would be to feed.

  He sauntered past his son, still trapped in the car (the windows now opaque with blood), without acknowledgement and joined the ranks of the living dead. Primaeval instinct drew him to a group of his kind, but this was no socialising, it was survival. Pack animals have a better chance of catching what they hunt.

  Bruce followed the pack as they trampled over the flattened fence and headed towards a building. To his right, a dismembered guard (food) caught his eye, and Bruce left the pack to investigate. A torn open carcass was almost stripped bare, but Bruce spotted cartilage between two vertebrae (food), he used a finger to pick it out and pushed it into his mouth. It was a small morsel and did nothing to suppress his hunger, so he examined the body cavity for better pickings. There was nothing to be had; he would re-join the pack.

  As he was getting to his feet, movement above him caught his eye, and he focused on seeing a group of girls (food) staring down at him. They immediately disappeared, but it was too late, he had seen them. Now, Bruce’s only mission was to find a way to get to them (food), and he called to his pack to alert them to his find. Experience had taught him that the way into buildings was through an opening in a wall and Bruce set off in search of it. His twenty-strong pack crossed the lawn to join him.

  Kai Chan led the crowd of guards, who had deserted their posts on the wall, without any real objective. He hadn’t had any intention of reporting back to the Preacher; it was just an excuse to avoid potential danger. The Preacher had quite a temper on him and would most likely yell at him to get back to the gates and do his job as a guard. He had intended to go back to his room and skive, but the other nine cowards had followed him as far as the Preacher’s quarters, so he felt obliged to go through with it.

  He paused with a hand on the polished brass doorknob, while the taggers-on stood in a line to his right. “I don’t think we all need to go in,” he said. “Why don’t you—?”

  “Jesus Christ!” a spotty kid shouted, pointing over Kai’s shoulder.

  Kai turned his head and saw a cluster of zombies staggering around the corner of the building and did a double take. How the hell did they get in when guards patrolled the fence? Then, he remembered he was supposed to be a guard and had no right to criticise. He was shoved sideways by those who had followed him as all nine of them tried to get through the double doors at once.

  Kai, now last in line, looked again, the pack of maybe twenty twitchers were so close that he could make out facial scars and missing teeth. He let out a terrified yelp and tried to push the crowd forwards, but the bottleneck was barely moving. In desperation, he jumped on the back of the person in front of him, with the intention of going over them. A searing pain in his lower leg caused him to cry out, and the ghoul that had bitten him dragged him backwards. He begged his fellow guards for help, trying to grab hold of their clothing, like the proverbial drowning man, but they ignored his pleas and pushed him away, directly into the hands (and teeth) of the ravenous mob. They thought his sacrifice would buy them enough time to close the doors.

  They were wrong.

  The last man in turned around to slam the door, but a foot stopped it from closing. The appendage was bare, the skin grey and leathery, ending in wizened toes with blackened split toenails. The guard tried stamping on it to make the owner move it, but zombies feel no pain, and the door remained ajar. A pair of withered grey hands appeared in the gap between the two doors at shoulder height. The guard threw himself against the door in a desperate attempt to hold it closed, but more limbs forced their way through the widening gap. “Help,” he shouted.

  At the lack of immediate response, the guard turned his head to see if there would be any help coming and his heart sank. He just glimpsed the feet of the last guard, sprinting up the marble staircase out of sight. The door sprung inwards and smacked him on the side of the head, knocking him off his feet and rendering him semi-conscious. At the same time, the second door swung inwards, and the zombies that were pushing against them fell on top of him like an avalanche.

  He was vaguely aware of the creatures biting his arms and legs and something sucking at his ear. Other ghouls stepped over him as they ran into the building and more joined the pack that was eating him. He remembered he had a gun, but couldn’t make his arms work to reach for it, and he remembered that at one time, he’d had a wife and daughter. Would they all be reunited in the great hereafter? The ear-sucker sunk its teeth into his left carotid artery.

  He would soon find out.

  Bruce swallowed the lump of flesh (food) he’d torn away from the man’s throat and moaned in ecstasy. Meat in his stomach was the only thing that eased the burning hunger which constantly plagued him. Relief from the pain, however brief, was all he sought. Other pack members pushed him away as they gathered to feed, but he didn’t resist. There was a better prize to be had. The little girls (food) he had seen were in the building at a high window, and he knew he must go up to reach them. Bruce’s stomach reeled, and he drooled with a longing for the taste of their sweet young flesh (food). He limped over to the shiny white stairs, momentarily mesmerised by the sparkling polished marble, then the hunger resumed, and he began the ascent that would take him to the girls (food).

  The tyres screeched to a halt outside the open doors of the clubhouse, and Danny was the first one out of the vehicle. “It looks like he might be expecting you,” Pip said.

  “Then he won’t be disappointed,” Danny said, clicking magazines into a pair of pistols.

  Pip held a pair of her own and fired off a shot over Danny’s shoulder. A zombie collapsed against the wall with a hole in its forehead. A second zombie rounded the corner and looked down, assessing if the slain ghoul was edible. Danny shot it in the head, and it dropped on top of the other.

  “Are you staying here, Simon?” Danny asked. “You’ll be safe in the car.”

  “No, sir,” the boy said, getting out of the Land Rover. “I’m coming with you. There’s too many of them things in here.”

  Danny shot the third zombie as it came into view. “Very well,” he said. “But stay close and take this gun.” He took a snub-nosed revolver out of an ankle holster and held it out to Simon. The boy shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “Go on, take it. You’ve already proved you can use one and on this occasion, it may save your life. So, please, Simon, take it.”

  The boy took the gun and tried, unsuccessfully, to tuck it into the back of his trousers. In another time, Danny had guffawed when he saw this done in American cop films. It was
only achievable if the weapon was flat, and the Ruger wasn’t. Danny smiled at him and ruffled his hair. “Why don’t you just hold it?”

  Summer looked at her white gown, bunched up around her wrists over her head and imagined it to be a cloud. The Preacher ran his hands up and down her naked body, and she pretended she was sitting on the cloud, high above the world, floating free from harm. “Beautiful,” he said squeezing her right breast, “so young and beautiful.” He rolled back onto his knees and pulled his gown over his head. He tossed it onto the headboard, and it landed on top of hers, terminating her nimbostratus escape. Summer saw his erect penis and started crying. “Don’t cry, my child,” he said. “It’s God’s will. It’s what He wants.”

  He forced her legs apart and lay down between them.

  Then, the banging and screaming started.

  The rest of the girls were hammering their fists on the harem door and screaming their lungs out. “What the fuck?” Moses said. He jumped off the bed and put his gown back on, cursing as he left the room. He stomped over to the harem door and unlocked it. Before he could speak, the girls tried to run past him. “The monsters are here,” Roberta said, as he grabbed her arm. “They’ve got through the fence.”

  Moses dragged her over to the window. “Oh no,” he said.

  He released his grip on Roberta’s wrist, and she ran out of the room, following the other girls. Moses never gave chase; they didn’t matter anymore, he had to save himself. He would take Summer with him, though. She was too good to let go.

  The front doors burst open, and eight guards ran into the room. “We’ve been invaded, Preacher,” a spotty kid blurted out. “The zombies are everywhere. On the greens, on the paths. They’re even in the building.”

  “Then shut those doors and barricade them, you blithering idiots,” Moses hollered. “Call yourselves security? Why didn’t you stand and fight, You spineless imbeciles? I’ve seen more backbone in a jellyfish.”

  As the guard nearest the doors went to close them, the first of the zombies hobbled into the room - a bald male with a chunk of glass sticking out of its forehead like a miniature rhino horn. The guard screamed and tried to back away, but the creature grabbed hold of his head and sank its teeth into his bottom lip. The remaining guards stood watching, aghast.

  “Shoot it,” Moses yelled. “Shoot the fucking thing.” Everybody in the room opened fire, peppering both guard and zombie with bullets. “In the head, goddammit, shoot it in the head.”

  He took a gun from a guard and shot the creature in the forehead. Brains blew out of the back of its head and ran down one of the doors like grey porridge. The attacked guard was presumably dead on the floor, his chest riddled with bullet holes, but just to be sure he didn’t return, Moses shot him in the head. One of the younger guards vomited on the cream carpet, and Moses almost shot him too. Another four ghouls came through the double doors side by side, and Moses gave the gun back to the guard. “Here, deal with them,” he said. “I have other matters to attend to.”

  The guard took his pistol back and for the first time, noticed the young girls in the room. “Who are they?” he said. “What the hell is going on in here?”

  “They’re my staff. They help me with the housewo—.”

  “He’s lying,” a girl interrupted. “He keeps us locked up, and he’s got another girl in his bedroom.”

  The guard, a father of four girls before the world ended, levelled his pistol with Moses’ face. “Start talking, Preacher.”

  Danny led Pip and Simon through the door into a feeding frenzy. A pack of zombies was tearing a young man apart, one of the ghouls turned to face them, showing fingers sticking through gaps in its teeth. Simon gagged, and Danny and Pip opened fire, destroying the feasting ghouls in an instant. When they ceased fire, the shooting continued above them. “This way,” Danny said, running for the stairs.

  Pip and Simon struggled to keep up, and Pip used the ornate mahogany handrail to haul herself upwards, puffing and panting behind Simon. A solitary obese zombie waddled up after them. Simon turned and shot it in the face, sending it rolling back downstairs. “Good shot, young man,” Pip said.

  Simon smiled and galloped up the stairs after Danny.

  24: Bruce and the Girls

  Bruce knew the things man (food) pointed at him were harmful, and the best thing to do was take them away. Although the man wasn’t pointing it in his direction, Bruce ran (the best he could) towards him and sank his teeth into his wrist. Blood (food) sprayed down his throat, and he drank deeply from the wound.

  Moses smiled at the man, who had momentarily had his gun trained on him, and ran to his bedroom. The guard screamed colourful language, dropped his gun and tried to get his arm out of the zombie’s mouth. He pummelled the creature with his free hand to no effect. Another twitcher joined in the fight and latched its teeth onto his other wrist in mimicry of its fellow combatant. A third pack member grabbed the doomed guard by the hair and pulled him to the floor. Seconds later, his cries stopped.

  Roberta took Kirsty and Colette by their hands and pulled them slowly back to their room. She’d come to think of it as a prison, but returning to it was the safest option available. The door could be locked, and Roberta looked over her shoulder to check the key was still in the door, thankfully, it was. For the moment, the zombies were preoccupied with the guards but more monsters were coming into the room, and it would only be a matter of time before they were seen.

  Bruce took a bite out of the man’s forearm (food) and left him for the others. There was a specific reason why he had come to this room (food). He got back onto his feet and scoured the room. There they were, three girls (food) backing away from him, heading for an opening in the wall. He knew if they went through it, they would be hard to get. He snarled a warning and hobbled towards the girls (food). Five pack members rushed to join him.

  The girls screamed, uncoupled hands and ran for the door. They were only a few meters away, but the distance seemed like a thousand miles, with the ghouls lumbering after them. Roberta was first through the door followed by Colette, who snatched the key out of the lock as she sped past it. Kirsty screamed and ran in after them, clutching her head and sobbing. Just before Roberta slammed the door and locked it, she saw an emaciated zombie, in a blood-spattered lab coat, clutching a clump of Kirsty’s strawberry blonde hair, examining the strands like they were exotic vines.

  Seconds later, the pounding started. A dozen dead hands thumped and slapped at the door as the zombies tried to break through it. The trio sat huddled together on a bed, watching the door shake in its frame and when a hairline crack appeared in a top panel, Colette closed her eyes. It ran from the top rail down to the middle cross rail, and the split timber section bowed inwards under the force of the blows.

  The Preacher’s deceit about being a holy man had undermined the girls’ faith in God, but nevertheless, they joined hands and prayed to Him for a miracle.

  Danny stepped onto the landing, turned right down a balconied corridor towards the pack of zombies, all trying to get through a set of double doors at the same time. “That must be where the screams are coming from, Pip. Let’s go.”

  Pip was too out of breath to answer, but she made a consenting wheeze and followed him down the hall with Simon by her side. Danny stopped a short distance away from the mob, and the first of the ghouls to spot him growled, alerting the pack to human presence. He shot it in the face and dispatched two more zombies as they were stepping over its body. “Stand by me, Pip,” he said. “We need to put every single one of these creatures down. You take the ones on the left, and I’ll aim right.”

  “Right with you,” she said, stepping beside him and drawing her guns.

  “Simon, you watch our backs. Kill whatever you can and holler if you need help. Don’t wait until they’re too close before you shoot. That way, if you miss, you’ll get a second chance.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Then I can ask no mor
e of you. Pip, make sure you destroy what you shoot, we don’t want any of them biting our ankles on the way past. Here they come, let them have it. Kill them all.”

  Danny and Pip hoisted their pistols and blazed away at the approaching zombies. Skulls popped, growls ceased, and the undead fell, as the duo unleashed a continuous spray of bullets.

  Behind them, Simon kept a lookout over the stairs with his gun clamped between his knees and his hands over his ears to muffle the deafening noise of gunfire. The volley of bullets seemed to last forever as an apparently endless procession of zombies came out of the room. When the shooting finally stopped, Simon stood between Danny and Pip and looked down the landing, amazed. A sea of bodies lay before them, and the walls ran red with blood, brains and God-knows-what. He gasped when he saw something stirring under the pile of corpses and pointed a shaking finger towards it. A yellow head, mottled with liver spots, poked through the bodies and hissed at them. Danny and Pip simultaneously fired, and the skull exploded, leaving the exposed top of the spinal cord pointing upwards like vertical waymarker.

  “Onwards,” Danny said, stepping over the scattered bodies. “Let’s finish this once and for all.”

  He stopped outside the Preacher’s apartment and reloaded both guns. Pip did the same, and Simon followed behind her, holding the gun he was yet to fire. All of them unaware of the next wave of zombies slowly coming in from the outside, instinctively drawn by the sound of gunfire and the prospect of a meal.