Karen yawned and gazed over at the concrete wall. Stephen Bonser was at the wall, and Rowley had just stepped out of his house and went over to where the medical supplies were kept.
Stephen tried the door of the house and Karen shouted over at him. “What are you doing?”
Stephen turned around, pushing the door open, and called out, “What’s wrong, chap?”
“Where the fuck are you going?” Karen walked away from the gate and stormed over to Rowley. She went past him and pulled the door shut.
Stephen twisted his neck, cleared his throat, and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“You can’t just walk in there and help yourself. Now that we’re short of people, we don’t have anyone in there anymore, so if you need anything, then come and see me.”
“I just want a couple of painkillers for my back, chap.”
Karen took a step back and gawped at the man.
Feeling paranoid, Stephen asked Karen, “What is it? What are you looking at?”
“The tablets that you’re after do work,” said Karen, “but they make people constipated.”
“That’s alright, chap.” Stephen smiled and grunted, “I’d rather be constipated than in pain.”
“Have you actually pulled your back?”
“Um ... well, no.”
Karen puffed out a breath, tucked her hair behind her ears, and took a step backwards. She looked Stephen up and down, making the rotund man uncomfortable, and reluctantly said, “Look, you’re not gonna like this, but…”
“What is it?” Stephen had his hands on his hips and looked annoyed, even though Karen hadn’t said what was on her mind yet.
Karen bit her bottom lip and took in a deep breath before saying, “Maybe you should try and lose some weight.”
Stephen released his hands from his hips and judging by his face, the comment from Karen had genuinely hurt the man’s feelings. “That’s a bit strong.”
“Is it? How are you heavy in a world like this anyway?”
“I have lost a stone since this thing started. Obesity runs in my family.”
Karen scoffed, “The problem is that I don’t think anyone runs in your family.”
“Chap,” Stephen said and shook his head, trying to joke. “There’s no need for that. Anyway, I’m not fat, I’m just easier to see.”
“I’m serious,” Karen said. “If you lost a little weight, your back will benefit. Taking painkillers is not the answer. We should keep them for the people that need them.”
“It’s probably my old job catching up with me, chap.” Stephen twisted his neck and scratched his portly belly. “I used to be a sales person for a couple of years for a company around the UK. Driving about and sitting down all day was no good for my back or my belly,” he tried to laugh. “I travelled everywhere. Chester-le-Street, Jarrow, Carrigart, Aldershot, Peterlee, Southend-on-Sea.”
A silence fell on the pair of them and Stephen took a quick gape at the front door. He then looked back at Karen and she stood staring at the man, shaking her head, telling him that it wasn’t going to happen. Karen could see a figure in the corner of her vision and saw Stephen Bonser walking over and now standing next to Rowley. Bonser asked what was going on.
“Need some painkillers for my back, chap,” Rowley began to explain, “but she doesn’t think I need them.”
Stephen Bonser nodded and decided to stay neutral in this argument. He had seen Karen fly off the handle a couple of times since he had known her, and thought that even he would have trouble dealing with the woman. Not only that, but she was incredibly close to Pickle, and Stephen still remembered the way Pickle had dealt with James Thomson easily when the men had argued and had a scuffle on Stephen’s living room floor.
“Why don’t you just wait until Pickle comes back,” Bonser suggested. “See what he says.”
“He’ll just take her side,” Rowley moaned and nodded at Karen. “You know what the pair of them are like, chap. Thick as thieves.”
“I’m in charge of the medical supplies,” said Karen, taking in a deep breath and trying to control her anger within her. “You don’t need them. You’re overweight; that’s the problem.”
Bonser laughed and patted Rowley on the back a couple of times, but Rowley shrugged Bonser away, deeming his action as patronising.
“She does have a point,” said Bonser. “Look, I was a smoker when this shit kicked off, but you can’t get a hold of the things anymore and—”
“Unless you’re Joanne Hammett,” Stephen interjected.
“Well, I think she’s getting pretty low now anyway,” Bonser said and shook his head. “My point is: If I can quit smoking, even though I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, you could lose a bit of timber.”
Karen winked at Bonser and decided to have a little fun with Rowley. “Maybe we should start reducing your food intake. What do you say?”
“Steady on, chap.” Stephen flushed red with anger and added, “I’m not getting enough as it is.”
“Okay, Steve,” Karen laughed. “Cool your jets.”
“I don’t like being called Steve.”
“I don’t like being called chap either,” Karen sneered. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got tits.”
Stephen tutted and shook his head in defeat. Before he could respond further, Stephen Bonser cocked his head to one side as if he had heard something. He peered over the concrete wall and said, “Erm ... guys. We’ve got company.”
Without uttering a word, Karen Bradley and Stephen Rowley made the short walk by Bonser’s side and also took a peek over, with Karen having to use the stepladders that were situated against the wall.
“What the fuck...?” Rowley scratched his head in confusion.
Karen began to laugh and said, “I’ve witnessed some weird scenes over these last few months, but this is the strangest one yet.”
There were two Snatchers shambling along the abandoned road that used to be a part of the original Colwyn Place, back in the civilised world. They were heading slowly to the wall, but it wasn’t because their eyes had seen something; there was no reason why they were heading that way.
They were staggering down the road, almost side by side, lost. One was a male on the right and the other was a female on the left. But what made this scenario even more ... incredible? humorous? surreal? ... was that the male was dressed in a now bloody Superman costume, the red cape still attached. The female appeared to be in a Wonder Woman costume, but it was hard to tell from a distance.
“You don’t see that everyday,” Stephen Bonser snickered.
“No, you don’t, chap.” Rowley had a small chuckle to himself and added, “I reckon they were at, or going to, a fancy dress party when they were attacked.”
“You think?” Karen spoke with a heavy lace of sarcasm in her words. “What makes you think that?”
“Well...” Rowley scrunched his face, confused, and began to explain, “They’re both wearing costumes for a start.”
“Stephen,” Bonser laughed. “Karen’s taking the piss.”
Stephen Rowley had a quick peep at Karen and was angry and felt stupid once his eyes clocked her smirk. He cleared his throat, looked at Bonser, and moaned, “I suppose we better take care of them.”
“Probably best to wait until they reach the wall,” Bonser said. “Be safer that way, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” Rowley nodded in agreement.
“Honestly,” Karen sighed. “A couple of pussies, the pair of you.”
The twenty-three-year-old female moved further up the stepladders until she reached the top, and then climbed over the wall, dropping to the other side. She pulled out the machete and took a peep behind her to see the two Stephens gaping with wide eyes.
“It’s alright, lads,” she said. “I’ve got this. Besides,” she looked at Rowley, “don’t want to give your back any more hassle now, do we?”
Karen walked away, whilst the two men continued to look on.
Wond
er Woman was the nearest one to Karen and was taken down with a strike to the side of its head. Karen front kicked its torso, still holding onto the machete with both hands, and the ghoul stumbled to the floor and the blade was free. She then brought her blade behind her head with both hands gripping the handle, bringing it down on the skull of Superman, the metal going through the skull like a hot knife through butter.
Karen removed the blade, walked away from the two lying Snatchers and headed back to the wall; the two men were still looking on. She placed the blade in her belt and ran at the wall, climbed over, and as soon as her feet slapped and landed on the other side, she winked at the two men and said, “Right, I’ve got clothes to wash.”
Both Stephens gazed as the woman entered her house. Bonser turned his head and could see that Rowley was still staring. Bonser gave him a nudge and was the first to speak.
“You okay?” Bonser began to chuckle. “I’ve seen that look before.”
“What look, chap?” Rowley shook his head comically, snapping out of his self-hypnosis.
“You know what I mean.” Bonser threw his arm around Rowley and pointed over at 10 Colwyn Place. “That hot headed young thing has stolen your heart.”
“Don’t be daft, chap.” Rowley tried to laugh off Bonser’s comment, but as soon as the statement was made Rowley had flushed red. “She’s far too young anyway, even if I wanted to … to … well … you know.”
“You’re stammering, Stephen,” Bonser began to cackle, now annoying a clearly embarrassed Rowley.
“Piss off, will you?”
“So the thought has never crossed your mind?” Bonser continued to mock the man next to him. “Be honest.”
“Every night, chap,” Rowley sighed in defeat.
“I fucking knew it.” Bonser removed his arm from Rowley’s shoulder and clapped his hands, sniggering at his friend’s torment.
“Anyway, even if she threw herself at me, I couldn’t do anything.”
“Why not?” Bonser’s face went serious and the laughing had stopped. “You don’t suffer from that micro-penis syndrome, do you?”
“No,” Rowley sighed and shook his head at Bonser. “That’s the kind of crap Vince would have said.” Rowley looked at Bonser with disdain. “And no, I don’t have that … whatever you call it.”
“So … what is it?”
“She frightens the shit out of me.”
Chapter Nine
Roger and Peter had stepped out of their home and had informed Pickle and Vince, who had been waiting patiently outside, that their mother was nowhere to be seen.
“So what are you gonna do now?” Vince asked the pair of them.
Roger and Peter looked at each other and both simultaneously shrugged their shoulders. They didn’t know.
Roger said, “My neighbour, Harriett, was quite close to our mum. We’ll check in there, but you guys can go. You’ve done enough. Thanks for everything.”
“Well,” Pickle scratched his head, “Vince and I were thinking about going into that pub. I know it’s been three months since this thing has kicked off, but the place looks immaculate from the outside. Maybe we could half the supplies, if there’re any in there.”
Peter nodded in agreement, but there was no response from Roger. Peter pointed to a large white house to his left and informed Pickle and Vince that they were going to check on Harriett, hoping that their mother was there, and then they were going to get themselves settled in their mother’s home, regardless whether she was around or not.
“Fine.” Pickle nodded. “We’ll wait here until yer return. Then we can all go over and check that pub out, agreed?”
Roger and Peter nodded and headed for the house next door.
They tried the front, and then went round to the back of the house. Like most lawns, the grass was due a cut, but the two men had more pressing matters to be concerned about. They knew Harriet, and she had been a good neighbour to their mother, especially since their dad passed away, and it seemed wrong not to see how she was. Plus, she also had a one-year-old son. They had already discussed briefly that if she wasn’t in, then she must have gone elsewhere with their mother.
Two knocks on the door and no answer was enough to convince the two men that the back door needed breaking down, and Roger was the one that charged at the door with his shoulder. It only took two attempts to put the door through, and now both males were unsure whether to go in or not.
Peter looked at his older brother, by three years, and said, “Are you going in, or what?”
Roger never verbally responded and was the first to step in and called on Harriett, but there was no answer.
Now both men were inside and bypassed the closed living room and kitchen door and took the stairs. If Harriett was hiding, it wouldn’t be on the ground floor, so they decided to check out the downstairs more thoroughly once it was established that the first floor was clear.
Exchanging no words, the two men took their knives out and climbed the stairs, with Roger leading the way. The bedroom doors were open, and it only took a couple of minutes to realise that there was no one on the first floor.
“We’ll just check the rooms downstairs,” Peter said to his brother in a soft tone, “and then we’ll help out Pickle to see what’s in The Chase pub.”
Roger never said a word; he just nodded the once.
Both men trotted downstairs and Peter tried the door to the living room. He pushed the handle down and tried to give it a shove, but there was something behind it. He could feel his pulse speeding up in the side of his neck and knew that there was something wrong.
Peter turned to Roger and said, “Give us a hand, will you?”
Both men pushed the door open and were immediately hit by a rancid smell that made both men retch. Roger had managed to push the door open further and they could see a reanimated Harriett shambling across the room, her back to them. Both men released a sad sigh when they could see the dead woman, dressed in her peach pyjamas. They were sad because Harriet had turned, but also because their mother was nowhere to be seen. Harriett’s place was their last hope of finding their mother.
They glared at the woman that still hadn’t noticed them and was now facing the living room window, away from the two men, and Peter and Roger were crestfallen on what they were witnessing. They had known her for years, and it took a while to snap out of their sympathy for the woman. They had seen many dead in Cardiff and on their travels, but this was the first one they had seen that used to be somebody they knew.
Peter’s eyes widened and had briefly forgot that the woman had a son. Harriet had a small child, one-year-old, but he was nowhere to be seen. Surely she hadn’t… Peter shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that scenario.
“Let’s take care of her,” said Peter. “We can’t leave her like that.”
Roger nodded and went over to the dead Harriett with zero hesitation. She never turned around and remained gazing and clawing at the pane of glass. Roger stuck the knife into the back of her head and had finally put the woman at peace. He wiped the blade on the woman’s peach pyjamas, trying not to breathe in the smell of death, and returned to Peter’s side and said, with emotion in his short query, “So, where’s the kid?”
Peter shook his head. “No idea.”
“Kitchen next.”
Peter and Roger approached the kitchen door and both were apprehensive. The child hadn’t been seen yet and this was the last room in the house to be checked. They were both certain that the child was going to be behind the door, unless Harriett had eaten him, although they never mentioned to one another that this could have happened.
Roger pulled down the handle and used his fingers to gently push the door open. Both men gasped as they saw the dead toddler, strapped in his high chair.
Roger’s eyes filled, but Peter was more controlled. Both men stared at the macabre sight for a while in silence; the pair of them stared for a good minute.
The child was an awful grey colour, wearing
a yellow and blue Bob the Builder T-shirt; his head was leaning to the left. It was obvious from the smell that the helpless and strapped-in child had defecated whilst he slowly starved to death.
“I wonder what happened.” Roger was the first to speak up, wafting the flies from his face.
Peter thought for a moment. “Harriett went outside, for whatever reason,” he guessed, “then she was attacked. She then came back into the house and realised she was infected. So she separated herself from her son.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I dunno. So she wouldn’t turn and eat her own child?” Peter elevated his shoulders and added, “Maybe she thought that someone would eventually come round and help, like our mum, or … fuck, I don’t know. Anyway, she turned, nobody came to check the house and save the wee man, so the poor little thing starved to death.”
Roger rubbed his chin in thought and asked, “And what about the bite marks on his arms?”
“The kid starved to death. Those bite marks came from his own mouth.”
Roger puffed out a depressed breath and shook his head. “Now what? Do we bury Harriett and her boy?”
“Not yet.” Peter looked up to Roger, tears in his eyes. “We’ll come back. Let’s help Pickle and that other guy check out the pub.”
“Then what? Are we staying here? In mum’s house?”
Peter waggled his head. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Ten
The RV was parked up and Elza, Ophelia and Stephanie hesitated before stepping out. They had a quick peep around the place and Elza, the driver, was the first to exit the vehicle. The warehouse looked like an old hangar from the Second World War, where bombs used to be made, and they could see the Cost Price sign in yellow and knew they were at the right place.
The Dead Don't Yell Page 4