by RR Haywood
I watched from across the street for a short while and saw an upstairs curtain twitch, a face poked out and looked about. The blind fucker didn’t see me though. I waited until they went away from the window and ran across. The front door had an awning above it so I got in close, knowing they wouldn’t be able to see me from the upstairs windows.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ I knocked and called out, making my voice sound weak and frail.
‘Please, please help me,’ I knocked again, not too loud though. I didn’t want them thinking I was trying to break the door down. Just loud enough to make them think I was trying to be quiet.
‘Please, you’ve got to help. My daughters been injured, we just need some aspirin to get her temperature down, please, oh god please help me.’ Fuck me I should get an Oscar for this performance. Noise inside, they’re moving about and I can hear low voices. They’re discussing whether to help me or not.
‘Please, oh please. I don’t want to be out here for long. I promised them I would come straight back. The other shops are all looted and empty. We just need some aspirin and clean water.’ I give a little sob and knock again. I slump down with my back to the door and my legs stretched out. I know they’ll be able to see my feet and know there’s just one person. More murmuring from inside, a male and female. I guess from the tones that the female wants to let me in but the male is arguing against her.
‘My daughter, she’s only five. She’s been sick, not bitten but just sick. I promised I would get some medicine. Oh my god why is this happening! I promised her I would get some medicine and sweets,’ I break down, sobbing. Well pretending to anyway.
‘We’ll open the door but no funny business, we’re armed in here,’ a gruff male voice called out.
‘Oh thank you, thank you so much…I’ve…I’ve got money.’ Bolts are being drawn back, several of them from the sound of it. I lean my arm against the door frame and tuck my head down, covering it with my other hand just in case they see my face. Just in time too, the door opens slowly and squinting through the gaps in my fingers I see a man’s face peering at me.
‘Oh mate, thank you so much,’ I sob again, heaving my chest a little and rubbing my hand over my face.
‘You’re covered in blood!’ The man says suspiciously.
‘I know! It’s my wife’s; she went out first and got bit. I tried to save her but she turned and I had to…I had to…’I heave my chest again for effect, ‘I just didn’t want Rosie to see…I told her to go back inside but she just kept calling for her mummy.’
‘John, open the door and let the poor man in will you!’ The female’s voice calls out from inside.
‘Okay, come in mate. It’ll be okay, come inside so I can close this door you poor bugger.’
‘Thank-you, oh my god I didn’t know what else to do,’ I keep rubbing my face and heaving my chest until I cross the threshold and get inside. There are only two of them, both aged in their sixties by the looks of them. The man is holding a cricket bat and the woman a long knife; the silly bitch puts it down on a shelf next to her when she sees me though. Holding her arms out she beckons me to her. So I go. I collapse into her embrace and feel her rubbing my back. I hug her back, and turn so that I face the man. I feel her tense up as I turn her round, then the man sees my face and gasps in shock.
‘Edith, let go!’ He yells but it’s too late. I grin at him and sink my teeth into her neck, biting down hard and tearing into the flesh. The man leaps forward and swings with the bat, I step back and watch him bash his wife round the head. Stupid fucker.
‘Oh my god! Edith.’ He stares, stupefied, and I grin back at him as we both look down at his now unconscious wife. I chew away for a few seconds, then pick a bit of flesh out of my tooth.
‘She’s a tough old bird eh John,’ I flick the bit of skin on the floor. John raises the bat and goes bright red in the face as he lunges at me taking big swings. I keep stepping back and watch him knocking things of the shelves with the bat.
‘Easy now John, you’re gonna have a heart attack in a minute,’ I step back again as he advances once more, swinging wildly.
‘What’s up mate, never seen a zombie talk before?’ He pulls the bat back for a big swipe, I step in and grip him tight, my face inches from his.
‘Come on John, give us a kiss,’ I lean in and sink my teeth into his cheek, biting and tearing at the flesh, feeling the hot blood pumping out and spurting into my face. He squirms and thrashes but the fight has gone out of him really. He slumps down and I go for the big vein in his neck. Biting through it and revelling in the glory I pull back and press my hand into his wound, stemming the blood flow. Knowing the infection will congeal the wound quickly I wait for a couple of minutes and let go. The blood pumps out as fast as before.
‘Oops, sorry John. I bit you a bit hard.’ I leave him to bleed out. At least Edith can join our glorious undead team now.
That was half an hour ago and I’ve been jogging steadily ever since. It’s amazing but just that little bit of blood has given me so much energy. I must be a vampire. Ha, a zombie vampire. Fuck Twilight, I’m a whole new species.
I find a harbour and run in. It’s just a small harbour with boats tied up to the floating jetties, fixed in position by solid pylons. I move from boat to boat, until I find one with an engine attached. A wooden fishing boat with a small cabin at the front. I examine the controls and figure out how to start it. The engine splutters a few times but eventually fires up. The ropes are pulled off and I press the lever forward, driving the boat into the one in front. What fucking idiot put it there? Cunts. I get the boat away from the jetty and start moving forward out of the harbour and into open water.
‘Little piggies little piggies, where did Howie send his little piggies?’
Five
‘Any idea’s which one?’ We’re standing round the front of the minibus, looking down at the harbour we found a few miles out from Portsmouth.
‘Finding one we can use will be the hard bit,’ Nick replies.
‘Why, are they like cars with keys and alarms?’
‘Some are, the smaller ones just take the outboard off, we might be lucky. This time of year has people going out all the time. All we need is for some rich bastard to have left his engine attached.’ Nick explains, his eyes scanning the various boats. He moves forward, the rucksack on his back with the shotgun poking out the top. We must look a right sight, six men walking through a posh harbour carrying axes and shotguns and dressed in military clothing. Nick goes from boat to boat, checking engines.
Clarence seems to have an idea what he’s looking for and joins in. The rest of us stand on the pontoon waiting in the warm sunshine. I look down at the gentle waves of the sea, a deep blue colour. The water looks inviting and cool. Small grey fish dart around. White fluffy clouds ride high in the sky and seagulls glide down to land gracefully on the water. The scene is idyllic, beautiful.
I glance at Blowers and Cookey, both of them silent for once, enjoying the relaxing setting. I look towards Dave and burst out laughing at the already green tinge to his face. The noise makes Clarence stand up suddenly from examining an outboard engine. He follows my look and a big grin spreads across his face.
‘You look like you’re about to puke mate, do you want some water?’ I hand a bottle over; he takes it gratefully and starts sipping gently.
‘You really don’t like boats then.’
‘No Mr Howie, I really don’t.’
‘Oh yes my beauty!’ Nick exclaims loudly. He stands up grinning like mad, ‘can you believe some fucking idiot left this here.’ He clambers out of the black and red coloured rigid inflatable, big oversized inflated frame, seats down the middle behind a central console consisting of a small steering wheel and lever. Two huge shiny engines at the rear, their mean looking propellers out of the water.
‘There’s a couple of open beer bottles down there,’ Nick nods towards the front of the boat, ‘I reckon there were people on here when it happened and they
legged it.’
‘Nice one mate, well done. Has it got fuel?’ I ask him.
‘Hang on,’ he fires the engine up and moves back to lower the two engines so the propellers are in the water, then goes back and checks the dials.
‘About three quarters full, mind you these things burn fuel very quickly.’
‘It’s not that far is it?’ Dave asks, suddenly worried.
‘No mate, it’ll be over in a jiffy,’ I re-assure him. The others climb on, leaving Dave standing there looking like a frightened school boy. Eventually he gingerly steps on and takes a middle seat, his hands grasping the hand rail tightly. I dump my belongings next to him and move up front to watch Nick. He examines the instruments for a few minutes, his fingers touching each one in turn. Checking and murmuring to himself. He did this on the bridge in London, taking seconds to figure out a complex set of levers and dials.
‘Got it,’ he looks up smiling.
‘Can we let the ropes go?’ Clarence calls out.
‘Yes mate, we’re ready,’ Nick answers him. Cookey and Blowers both take seats. Clarence unties the ropes and comes to stand on the other side of the console, both of us watching Nick. Already the tide has pulled us away from the pontoon and Nick lets the boat drift out before gently pushing the lever forward. The engine rises in pitch, only very slightly and the boat starts moving forward.
‘You’re going the wrong way Nick,’ Cookey shouts out.
‘Yes I know,’ Nick answers, letting the boat move slowly forward.
‘Nick, Nick, You’re going the wrong way,’ Blowers joins in.
‘Fuck off,’ Nick shouts back turning the wheel. The boat responds and starts to turn round but the next pontoon is close and Nick pulls the lever backwards.
‘Nick, you’re going to hit the other boats,’ Cookey yells.
‘Nick, Nick, you’re going backwards Nick,’ Blowers shouts, the pair of them laughing.
‘Fucking idiots,’ Nick mutters, letting the boat reverse slowly, turning the wheel and forcing the nose to face towards the entrance before pushing the lever forwards again.
‘Nick, Nick….Nick…’ Cookey shouts incessantly.
‘What!?’
‘You’re going really slowly Nick,’ he laughs.
‘But the right way this time,’ Blowers adds. I chuckle at the lads trying to wind Nick up.
‘Mr Howie, is Dave holding on tight?’ Nick asks quietly. I glance down and see Dave has almost glued his hands to the rails.
‘He’s gripping for dear life,’ I reply.
‘In that case, would you and Clarence please do the same,’ he smiles evilly and I see Clarence’s knuckles go white as he grips the safety bar. Nick eases the boat gently out of the harbour and into the open water.
‘Nick, Nick, you’re still going really slow,’ Cookey shouts out.
‘Hold on,’ Nick murmurs and pushes the lever forward. The engines instantly scream out and the front of the boat seems to lift high out of the water. The power is incredible and the boat surges ahead. I look back to see Blowers and Cookey falling off their seats and scrabbling for a hand hold. Nick turns to look and laughs at the sight of them trying to stand up. He waits a second for them to get a hand grip then turns the wheel hard over to the side. The boat lurches over and propels forward, causing Blowers and Cookey to go flying off their seats again.
‘Fucking hell Nick,’ Blowers shouts out. Nick eases back on the lever and the boat glides to a steady pace.
‘What’s that?’ Nick shouts back.
‘That was fucking great,’ Cookey laughs, ‘do it again.’
‘No,’ Dave growls and the lads go silent as I chuckle to myself.
‘Head for the forts mate,’ I point to the two forts out at sea. Both of them are still a few miles out but clearly visible. Positioned either side of the deep channel, marking the route for the thousands of vessels that pass through every year. Nick eases the lever forward, gently increasing the speed until we’re going at a decent pace.
The water is calm, like the surface of a pond, and we bounce along with the warm wind blowing in our faces. The noise makes any chance of conversation almost impossible and we travel in silence. I look round in all directions, no other vessels in sight anywhere. The Island looms in the distance, looking green and lush, the ground rising steeply away from the shore line.
‘What’s that?’ Clarence shouts, pointing into the distance.
‘It’s a pier, connects to the town,’ I reply, staring at the long straight black thing stretching out a fair distance into the water.
Nick gradually increases the speed with a gentle nudge of the lever, I keep glancing back at Dave sitting there with his eyes squeezed shut. Blowers and Cookey are both facing into the wind, looks of absolute pleasure on their faces. I try to think of what I know about the Isle of Wight, very little. I know it’s big so finding them might not be easy, but that could make it just as hard for Darren to find them too. But, then there’s a large group and moving about will attract attention. Especially if the police officers and Sarah are armed.
My musings pass the time until we’re close to the first fort, looming up high above us. We circle round a few times staring up at the half grey and half black fortress. It looks derelict with large signs warning the public to stay away. The fort has a mooring point; a metal structure fixed to the side of the building. The gangway leads to a solid looking gate with a heavy padlock and chain attached.
‘No-one has been through there recently,’ Clarence remarks, standing at the front of the rib and staring at the gate. The waves are more substantial here, the pull of the tide against the fort creating eddies and whirls. Nick fights to keep the boat from being pulled against the fort, making subtle turns with the wheel and the power lever.
‘Try the next one mate,’ I say to Nick. He nods and pushes the lever forward, powering the boat swiftly past the fort before turning to move across the main shipping channel.
We reach the next one within minutes. This one looks in far better condition with fresh paint on the outside and clear signs of structures running round the top, where-as the previous fort looked flat and featureless. There are windows built into the top section. The mooring point is attached to a more modern looking pulley system and is winched up high; preventing any boats from berthing alongside the smooth walls. We circle round a few times, looking for any signs of habitation or some way of berthing.
A gunshot rings out, a loud retort echoing across the quiet sea. We duck instinctively and I just catch a glimpse of a figure standing way above us on the top of the fort, holding a long barrelled weapon. Dave reacts with lightning speed and whips his pistol out, taking aim at the figure.
‘DAVE NO,’ I shout before he can fire, ‘Nick, back away quickly.’ Nick starts moving the boat away from the fort. I raise my arms above my head, hands up. Trying to show we are not a threat. Although six heavily armed men circling their fort in a high powered boat can never look that unthreatening.
‘WE’RE GOING, PLEASE DO NOT FIRE,’ I shout towards the fort. Clarence has followed suit and is standing with his arms raised, which just serves to accentuate his massive size. A quick glance back and I see Blowers and Cookey have done the same. Dave has raised his arms halfway but I see his holster is unfastened and ready for quick access.
‘IF YOU COME CLOSER I WILL FIRE ON YOU,’ a loud male voice shouts down, the speaker hidden from view.
‘OKAY, WE’LL STAY HERE. WE DON’T WANT TROUBLE. WE’RE LOOKING FOR A LARGE GROUP OF FRIENDS THAT CAME OUT HERE IN BOATS.’
‘WHAT?’
‘I SAID WE’RE LOOKING FOR SOME MEMBERS OF OUR GROUP THAT CAME OUT THIS WAY IN BOATS,’ I try shouting louder but my voice is hoarse and doesn’t carry that well.
‘I CAN’T HEAR YOU,’ his voice is clear and distinct, something to do with him shouting down at us maybe.
‘Dave, you shout up mate.’
‘WE ARE LOOKING FOR OUR GROUP THAT CAME OUT ON BOATS EARLY THIS MORNING,’ Da
ve’s voice bellows out and for a split second I imagine zombies in Portsmouth turning to face this direction.
‘I SAW THEM BUT THEY ARE NOT HERE, NOW GO AWAY.’
‘WHAT DID YOU SEE?’
‘GO AWAY NOW OR I WILL FIRE.’
‘WHICH WAY DID THEY GO?’
Another shot rings out, Nick slams the lever forward and we power away quickly. I stare back at the fort and hold my arm up high. Nick raises the speed until we are almost flat out, bouncing along at an incredible speed. He keeps glancing back until he gauges we are at a safe enough distance then powers down to a more comfortable pace.
‘Must be on the Island then,’ the others at the back don’t hear above the roar of the engines. Nick and Clarence both nod back.
‘Any idea where?’ Nick yells out.
‘Head over towards the pier and we’ll move along the coast, see if we can find their boats anywhere,’ I motion with my hand at the same time. Clarence gives a thumbs up as the boat is turned.
The adrenalin eases off but the incident has left a stark reminder of just how dangerous this world is now, and how desperate people will be to protect what they’ve got.
Six
The fucking tide is going out. I can’t get the boat close to the shore and end up getting it stuck on a sandbank about half a mile from the beach. I ditch the boat and start wading through the water, it doesn’t take long before I’m splashing through ankle deep sea water and then onto the hard compacted sand. There’s a big pier off to my right and the long golden beach stretches off far to my left before disappearing round a bend. I had been able to tap into the eyes and ears of my fellow brethren before, but I can’t do it now. I was connected to all of them intrinsically, but it feels like the connection has been broken. I keep trying but nothing gets through. Maybe it’ll come back when I make contact here; there must be some of my brothers and sisters here somewhere.
‘Little piggies little piggies, Smithy is here for you,’ singing the words over and over I get to the soft sand and walk towards the high concrete wall running the length of the beach. Howie’s little piggies must have left some signs of where they went. Maybe there’s another Smithy here, a super zombie like me. Connected to all his own undead like I was. Ha, like a franchise or something. I get the south coast and this fucker would get the Isle of Shite. Fuck him, I’ll kill him and take over. Might be a girl super zombie though. Fuck it; I’ll kill whoever it is. Cunts, dirty fucking cunts trying to make me be a slave zombie. I’m not a fucking slave zombie, who do they think they are? Fucking outrageous. It’s not right, trying to make me take orders. I give orders I don’t fucking take them. They’re dead whoever they are. They can suck my zombie cock if they think they can rule me.