The Dead Don't Yell

by Shaun Whittington

  “You have a camp?”

  Craig nodded and said with a thin smile, “That’s why I’m here. Well....” Craig began to laugh. “Not here exactly. I was originally going to come here and then go further if I couldn’t find anyone to join us.”

  Yoler swung her legs to the side and was preparing herself to stand up. She tried to process what the male stranger had just told her and said with uncertainty, “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

  “I suppose it is, but we’re getting to be quite desperate these days.”

  “Do you have guns?” she remarked. “I mean, just in case things turn ugly?”

  “We don’t need guns. We have a Pickle,” Craig snickered. He could see the confusion on Yoler’s face and told her to forget about his tongue-in-cheek remark.

  She stood up and began to stretch. “I mean, what happens if you bump into a bunch of guys, take them back to your place, and they turn on your people and take it for themselves?”

  “I would keep an eye on them for a day or so, make sure they’re not thugs, before inviting them back.”

  “Like you did with me, Craigy Boy?”

  Craig paused before speaking. His eyes clocked Yoler’s face and could see she was a lovely looking person and had a moptop Beatle haircut.

  “That’s different. You’re just one person. You’re just...”

  “What? A girl?” she laughed.

  “Look, I didn’t mean any offence.”

  Her dress sense suggested she was either a tomboy or she had just recently raided an army and navy store. She wore green combats, a camouflage shirt, and there were a pair of heavy-duty boots by the bed that she picked up off of the floor.

  She sat back down on the side of the bed and began to put the boots on. She never looked up at Craig once until she tied the laces on the final boot, which suggested to Craig that the female was reasonably relaxed in his company.

  She stood up and looked the man up and down. Noticing that he was carrying a hockey stick in his right hand, she nodded at the stick and asked him, “Did you use to play?”

  “No.” Craig scratched behind his left ear and added, “I took it from a kid’s bedroom.”

  “Not before the apocalypse, I hope?” she joked, immediately making Craig smile.

  “No, of course not.”

  Yoler cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes, making them look like long stitches below her eyebrows.

  Craig could see her confusion and said with a chuckle, “I took it out of an empty bedroom that must have belonged to a kid.”

  “What was you doing in a kid’s bedroom anyway?” she teased.

  “Piss off.” Craig shook his head with a grin, knowing that she was playing with him, and took his bag off and placed it against the wall. “The house was empty. I took this stick when I ran into trouble.”

  “Fair enough.” She sat back down and now seemed to be relaxed in his company. “What’s in your bag?”

  “Take a look.” Craig was beginning to warm to the young female.

  Yoler took a walk over and bent down next to the bag. She unzipped it and opened it up with both hands. “Jesus Christ on a cross!” she exclaimed. “How much stuff have you got in here?”

  “If I ration it, I reckon about four to five days worth of food. It’s the bottles of water that makes the bag heavy, though.”

  Craig realised he was waffling and couldn’t help notice that the young woman was trying to look interested, but she began to glance around the room whilst Craig was still speaking.

  “Why don’t you join us?” Craig asked her.

  “Join you?” The woman looked baffled. “I don’t even know you. For all I know you could be living with a bunch of horny retarded men.”

  “You know that isn’t the case.” Craig smiled and added, “I need to venture further, but you don’t have to come with me. I’ll take you to Colwyn myself, and then I’ll pop back out again tomorrow. Time’s pressing on. What do you say?”

  “Look,” The female scratched at her mop top and said, “I appreciate the offer, Craigy Boy, but I’m too tired to think right now. I’ve been up forty-eight hours straight. She looked at the battery clock on the side table that was still clearly working. “I’ve only had an hour of sleep, and then you come in with your creepy ways,” she joked.

  “Sorry.” Craig smiled and looked over at the clock and said, “Why don’t you have a few hours and then we can start heading, that’s if you want.”

  “So I’d be able to join your camp, just like that?”

  “Yeah. Just like that.”

  “Sounds too good to be true.”

  “I’d vouch for you.”

  Yoler asked the smitten Craig Burns, “And what’re you going to do while I’m sleeping?”

  “I’m gonna have a sniff around the area. Maybe I’ll come across more people, you never know.”

  “Maybe.” Yoler didn’t sound so sure.

  Yoler walked over to Craig and gave him a smirk. She stood close to him, her breath just inches away from his presence, and said, “Now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to shut the door and get some sleep.”

  “Okay. No problem.”

  “And I will be locking the door this time.” She nodded at the small bolt and then flashed Craig a cheeky smile. “No offence.”

  “No offence taken.” Craig gulped and felt a twinge in his groin. He hadn’t been this close to a woman since ... since his wife.

  “Right, I’ll get going.” Craig turned away and the door was shut behind him as soon as he stepped out. He heard the bolt from behind the door being slid across, which she should have done in the first place, and the man in his early thirties began to make his way downstairs.

  *

  Quint was pleased with the two boxes of tins that had been given to him, and went through the two heavy boxes that had been dumped on his kitchen floor.

  He smiled as he could see that he at least had thirty or so tins in each box. If he rationed the food he had left in his cupboards, plus the two boxes of tins, he could sit on his arse, do nothing, and still survive for over two more months.

  A smile stretched across his features as he could see beans, ravioli, spaghetti hoops, macaroni cheese and hot dogs. He hated ravioli, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, he thought.

  He picked up the heavy boxes and put them to the side, out of harm’s way. He was going to put the tins away, but not in the cupboard. He wanted to put them somewhere safe, just in case any other visitors turned up, or thugs.

  He decided to go out and look at the damage. He stepped outdoors and took in a deep breath. He patted his pockets to make sure his blade was there, and went down the road where the motorhome had been.

  Parts of bodies and limbs were scattered across the road.

  “What a fucking mess,” he sighed to himself. He thought about cleaning the mess up, just in case other road users in the future needed to get by, but then thought, fuck it. It was Quint that had created the mess, albeit for a good cause, but he told himself that it wasn’t his problem.

  He was about to turn on his heels and go back to the farm, but a stray creature could be seen staggering around the corner and stumbling over the body parts to try and get to Quint.

  “Determined little cunt, aren’t you?” snickered Quint.

  He continued to gaze as the contaminated male that fell over a decapitated leg. It then slowly pulled itself up, and then continued to shamble towards the fifty-seven-year-old who was now standing with his blade in his right hand.

  The creature had finally reached Quint, but the journey it had made was pointless.

  It stretched out its arms and growled as it was now just a breath away from the farmer, but it soon dropped to the floor once Quint had rammed his knife in the left ear of the ghoul. He removed his knife once the creature was on the floor, and wiped the dark fluid on the tattered and dirty clothes of the dead being.

  Quint looked around and winced with the smell, placed his blade back into hi
s pocket, and then decided to make his way back to the farm. Unless it was absolutely necessary, he decided to stay away from the road from now on. The smell was too much, plus he had survived with little trouble just staying at his place.

  He entered his premises, closed the gate behind him, and headed hack to the house. He walked through his house and into the kitchen and had another look inside the two cartons of tins. It was too good to be true. If there was just the one of them, the young girl, Quint would have taken everything that was inside the RV and then disposed of the vehicle and the girl, in case people came looking for her. It would have been a cruel act, but Quint wanted to survive by any means necessary.

  He stared at the tins and a smile emerged over his face. He wasn’t all bad. And he was going to prove it.

  He stood up straight, pulled out his blade, and headed for the small barn that was situated at the side of the farmhouse. He approached the door of the barn that had been bolted from the outside, had a quick look around, and gave it three knocks.

  “Are you decent?” he joked.

  There was no answer, so he slid the bolt back and entered anyway.

  The barn’s floor was covered in hay and four wooden pillars were present.

  The nearest pillar on Quint’s right had two people sitting on the floor; their backs were to each other, and they both were tied up with rope around their stomachs and around their arms. One was a male and the other a female and both looked frightened to death, even more so when they both clocked the blade in Quint’s hand.

  “It’s okay.” Quint held his hand up. “Relax.”

  He stood near the two, who were gagged with a sock in each mouth, and crouched down so that he was at eye level with the two of them.

  “I’m gonna take the sock out of your mouths,” Quint began, “and I want you two to remain quiet. I’ve got a bit of a headache, and I don't want you two cunts adding to my woes, so to speak. Understand?”

  Both nodded frantically and Quint took the sock out of the mouth of both prisoners.

  “Please!” the woman cried. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said, you silly bint?” Quint puffed out a breath and spoke further, “I told you to remain quiet, didn’t I?” He then looked at the male and shook his head. “What is it with women?”

  The woman apologised and Quint told them to listen up.

  “Right, motherfuckers,” he began. “Today’s your lucky day. Today I’m going to set you both free.”

  The male and female both tried to gaze at one another. Quint could see the confusion on their faces, so he decided to explain. “This is not a fucking joke, brother and sister.”

  “How do we know?” the woman spoke up, despite being warned only seconds ago.

  “I’ve run into a bit of luck. So I won’t be needing any of you.” Quint crouched down and began to cut the rope that was tied around the two scared individuals. Once the rope was cut and fell, Quint stood up and took a step back as the two prisoners struggled to their feet.

  The female licked her lips and asked Quint, “Could we at least have a drink before we go?”

  “Don’t push your luck, sugar tits,” snapped Quint with his arms by his side, blade in his right hand. “You, or at least part of you, was going to be on my dinner plate pretty soon. Be grateful to be in the position you’re in now.”

  The man that was with her grabbed her arm and told her to move, but she shrugged him off.

  “There was no need to do what you did,” the woman bravely spoke up, now that she was free and on her feet.

  “And what did I do exactly?”

  “You know what? We came to your place for safe refuge a couple of days ago and then you knocked the pair of us out.”

  Quint hunched his shoulders. “A man has to eat.”

  “But—”

  “Are you gonna stand there and whine like a little bitch, or are you gonna fuck off out of my sight?”

  The two individuals slowly went for the barn door, both unsure whether this was some kind of sick trick or not, and left the place.

  Quint stepped outside and watched as the two young people ran away from the farm and turned right, heading for Fradley.

  Quint didn’t want to eat them, but things were getting desperate and the two had suddenly showed up. He had eaten almost everything that he had left in his cupboards; he even ate his own dog in week nine, and initially was pleased when the two of them turned up. It meant that he didn’t need to go out and scavenge, but the two boxes of produce were even better.

  Those three people giving him those two boxes of tins had saved the lives of the female and male that he had held captive for two days.

  Quint smiled and enjoyed the gentle wind brushing his face. He remained there for a few minutes before going back inside. His belly growled for food and he decided that he was going to try the spaghetti hoops first.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  It was getting on for 5pm and Karen knocked on the Danson’s door. She could see Pickle poking his head out of his front door, bellowing, “For God’s sake, Karen! Leave them alone, will yer?”

  “I just wanna know if they’re okay, that’s all,” she called back. “Just get back inside the house, you old grump.”

  “Yer harassing them.”

  “No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “I’m letting them know that some of us care. They’ve been hiding in this house for too long, the kids especially.”

  “Get back in, yer silly tart.”

  She knocked again and said to Pickle, “This is the last time I’m knocking and then I’m turning in for the night.”

  She waited with her head lowered and was surprised that the door opened. She looked up and could see the dishevelled Jim Danson standing in front of her.

  “What is it?” His query was short and his face was full of annoyance.

  “Hi,” Karen giggled. “Just checking if you guys are okay before I turn in.”

  “You turned up here weeks ago,” Jim said calmly, but it was clear that there was angst in his tone. “You never bothered us at all, and now you’re banging on my door twice in one week. Has somebody said something?”

  “No. I…” Karen scratched at her right earlobe whilst trying to think of a feasible answer. “Just to let you know that my offer to take the kids out still stands.”

  “And I’ve told you before—”

  “Daddy?”

  Karen looked to the left side of Jim Danson to see his sweet seven-year-old daughter approaching the door, standing next to her daddy and clutching onto an old teddy bear.

  “Just go upstairs, honey,” Jim said sharply

  Ignoring her father, the beautiful girl stared at Karen and said, “Hello. Your name’s Karen, isn’t it?”

  Karen produced a broad smile and said, “It sure is. And you must be Kelly.”

  The little girl nodded and cuddled the teddy, hugging it tightly.

  Karen nodded at the teddy and said, “And what’s his name?”

  “It’s a she,” the little girl giggled. “Her name’s Jenny.”

  “Look, that’s enough.” Jim turned away from Karen and began to usher his daughter away from the main door. He said to young Kelly, “Go and see your mum, Kelly.”

  He then turned around, ready to give Karen a verbal dressing down, but she spoke before he had a chance.

  “I’m sorry,” she began. “But having a family in this new world must be one of the hardest things a couple has had to do. Mentally, the last three months or so must have been difficult, especially for the kids who don’t really know what’s going on.”

  Jim huffed, “And your point?”

  “All I’m saying is that I’m here … we’re here if you need a break, hell … whatever. Just don’t be afraid to ask.”

  “Why now?” Danson asked. “Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m offering now.”

  “Thanks, but we’re fine.” Jim then
slammed the door in Karen’s face.

  “Charming.”

  *

  For a few hours, Craig Burns had been walking the streets of Milford. He had broken into three houses and had left each building empty handed. Not one soul could be seen. Frustrated, the thirty-one-year-old decided to walk the quarter mile back to the house where he had met Yoler.

  He passed a large pub called The Barley Mow and had a quick look over to the place. He had no intentions of going over there on his own. He was unsure what would greet him, whether it was the dead or the living, and didn’t want to take the risk.

  He could see a banner across the pub claiming that it had a soft play area inside and that they did a carvery every Sunday.

  He continued walking and stopped by the drive of the house where Yoler was staying. He took a quick look around the abandoned street, clocking six crows pecking at an old cadaver from thirty yards away, and then toddled down the drive of the house and went through the kitchen window he had smashed open to get in when he first arrived. He patted his pocket and cussed when he realised he had lost his knife, and quickly shook it off.

  Aware that Yoler could still be sleeping, he crept through the house, placed his hockey stick by the side of him, and sat on the couch. He leaned his head back and waited for the sounds of footsteps coming above him, where the bedroom was situated, giving him the sign that Yoler was awake and up on her feet.

  For nearly twenty minutes Craig had had his eyes closed, waiting for Yoler to get up, even hoping to have a catnap himself, but it wasn’t happening. The footsteps weren’t appearing and Craig was growing impatient.

  Even if two hours of sleep wasn’t enough for Yoler to function through the rest of the day, it could be enough to take the edge off and allow them to go back to Colwyn, and then Craig could go back out the following day and try again.

  He sighed impatiently, “Fuck it.”

  He rose to his feet and began to make his way to the first floor. He approached the bedroom door and placed his ear against it. He didn’t want to wake up the young girl, but he didn’t want to waste any more daylight either.