by RR Haywood
‘It wasn’t,’ Blowers says.
‘Fuck you,’ Cookey pulls his bag on his back, adjusting the straps and bouncing up and down a few times to make sure everything is secure. He reaches one hand back to make sure he can grasp the stock of the shotgun. We all do the same, readying ourselves and helping each other to tighten straps, working quietly, we all know the importance of being ready to move quickly and not risk our kit dropping out. Gathering at the front door with our axes in hand, apart from Dave who still sticks with his double knives, we stand quietly waiting for something to happen.
‘Er, this door is locked,’ I say finally, remembering we came in through a back entrance. We all smirk sheepishly as we turn away from the door and start threading our way through the hotel ground floor. Reaching an old ballroom we find one of the double fire doors closed from the inside with a locking metal bar. Blowers gets there first and starts pushing down on it, but the bar is rusted badly and sticks in place.
‘Let me try,’ Cookey barges past and starts hitting down on the bar, desperate to outdo Blowers.
‘Ha, yeah go on then hero,’ Blowers laughs at Cookey struggling. Clarence gives him a few more seconds then coughs politely. Cookey glances round then steps back and flourishes a hand at the door.
‘Watch this,’ Blowers says as Clarence goes to push the bar down with one hand. Still it refuses to budge so he applies more pressure. Propping his axe against the wall he uses both of his enormous hands to ram down on the bar but still it holds. Clarence grunts with effort then suddenly stops, takes a small step back and breathes in deeply. His shoulders relax and I watch as he raises both his hands a few inches from the bar then seems to explode with a sudden ferocity sending both doors flying off the hinges to land a few feet away in the bushes outside.
‘Fuck me…’ Nick says in awe.
‘Door’s open,’ Clarence rumbles bending down to lift his axe.
‘Good work Clarence,’ Dave says.
‘Thanks Dave,’ Clarence replies. Blowers and I exchange a glance at the polite tones they use to each other, both of them clearly making an effort to show respect. I raise one eyebrow and a give a little shrug before stepping out the door.
We file out and work our way through the jungle of overgrown bushes to the gravel car park. The massed horde gathered on the road at the front of the hotel start to turn slowly and shuffle in our direction.
‘Righto, let’s have an early scrap and go for breakfast,’ I say light-heartedly.
‘Or we could just skirt round them and go for breakfast now,’ Nick says rubbing his stomach.
‘Fuck me, look at that smoke,’ we turn to stare at Blowers needlessly pointing down the hill at the thick plumes of smoke wafting up into the still morning air. Whatever it is on fire is hidden from view by the densely packed buildings.
‘We’ve been here for one day and already things are on fire,’ I remark shaking my head sadly.
‘That’s got to be Darren…’ Blowers says quietly. Our small group pauses for a heartbeat as we all realise the implications of what Blowers just said. As one we start jogging out of the car park, all joking forgotten as the serious business of why we’re here takes residence in our minds once more.
The front of the horde have already reached the edge of the car park but we keep to the far side and skirt round them quickly. Avoiding combat now for the sake of making distance and getting down the hill. Glancing over I blanche at how many undead have gathered here during the night, the road in front of the hotel is thick with them. There must be hundreds all starting to shuffle towards us, slack jaws, red bloodshot eyes and decaying grey skin almost hanging off their bones. They look withered and less human than ever before. The tattered clothing that still clings to some of them is filthy and the blood stains have dried out to a sickening brown colour. Flies and insects buzz in and around the hundreds of raw and open wounds. The danger of disease from their dead flesh must almost be as bad as the infection inside them.
The stiffness in my legs abates as I warm up and start jogging down the hill, all of us have the sense to take it steady instead of running hell for leather. The lessons we’ve learnt over the last god knows how many days are what’s kept us alive where many others have fallen. The muscles in my legs feel stronger, leaner and my breathing has improved with the sheer amount of exercise I’ve had to do since all this started. Not a day has passed without some kind of frantic run, fight, battle or chase. Blowers, Cookey and Nick also look leaner and fitter. And despite the constant pissing about they’ve hardened and carry the look of capable men. I glance over at Dave running by my side, his face looks the same, the only difference is his deep tan from so many days outside in the summer sun.
Right now, at this point, I wouldn’t swap or trade these men for anything in the world. There are no finer people to be with and my only regret is that we lost many such good men outside the fort.
The hill gets steeper as we descend passing old faded and battered looking Victorian town houses now converted into shitty flats with dirty windows. High gloss paint peeling from the doors and frames. The smell of burning increases and slowly we start to see the back of a huge building coming into view, smoke billowing out from the windows and roof. At the bottom of the hill we turn right to see the front of a grand old Victorian hotel blazing away. Huge flames roaring as they eat into the building. Several bodies lay scattered about on the pavement, already smoking from the heat of the fire.
‘Wait here,’ ditching my axe I run forward with my arm held up against the fierce heat. Reaching the first body I kick it over, but the flesh is scorched and smouldering rendering the face unrecognisable. I crouch down and crab over to the next one, rolling it over and staring down at the face, I don’t recognise it so I check the next few and find them in the same state.
‘Not ours,’ I yell out as I reach the group, wiping the stinging sweat from my eyes. The relief is as clear on their faces as it must be on mine.
‘They’ve got fresh bite marks on ‘em, the blood is fresh too.’
‘Last night then, while we were kept busy up the road,’ Clarence says. I nod up at him.
‘If he got our group he would have left a message,’ Dave adds in his flat but firm voice, ‘he’d want us to know we’d lost.’
‘This whole row will go,’ Nick points along the building line, at all the big old houses and store fronts joined up along the Esplanade.
‘And behind too, I fucking hope there’s no survivors in them,’ Cookey mutters.
‘There’s nothing we can do, we should clear out before it attracts too much attention,’ I pick my axe up and cough from the cloying stench of burning chemicals in the air. Looking back up the hill I see the thick horde slowly trailing down the hill after us. With a bit of luck they will stop and stare in wonder at the bright dancing flames.
‘Which way?’ Cookey steps out into the road, looking left and right.
‘Up there,’ Dave says quickly. He steps forward peering towards the right hand side, his eyes squinting as he examines something in the far distance. ‘There’s one moving away from us, going slowly,’ he explains, ‘he must be following Darren.’ Enough said, we start jogging again. Taking a wide arc past the front of the burning building and crossing over to the far side of the tree lined pavement I stare back at the raging inferno and think of how much destruction is being wrought on the world by a few desperate survivors clinging onto life.
Our steady pace brings us closer and closer to the solitary undead limping along on a badly damaged leg. As we get closer Dave waves his arm for us to slow down and signals us to be quiet. Indicating we should follow him.
‘We don’t know where they went but neither does Darren,’ Dave whispers as we group in close to listen, ‘He’ll probably go to ground and wait for us to lead him, we follow that,’ he points at the limping zombie, ‘and hopefully we get to him before he can do anything else.’
We’re forced to walk painfully slowly as the undead struggles to
shuffle on his clearly broken and mashed up leg. Going this slow gives me a chance to take in the surroundings, the debris littered about and the proper dead bodies decaying in the street. The nightclub above the bowling alley is just up ahead of us and I can see some of these dead are still dressed in their nightclubbing clothes. I think back to the young woman in the blue dress that tried to bite me back in Boroughfare, Christ that seems like years ago but it’s only been nine days.
‘Do you reckon they got food in there?’ Nick asks nodding towards the front of the bowling alley.
‘The doors are smashed in mate,’ Blowers replies quietly, ‘it’s already looted.’
‘Might be something left, I’m starving.’
‘We’ll go and look mate, we’re all hungry,’ I motion to Nick to follow me, nodding at Dave to make sure he’s okay with it first.
Nick and I sprint off to the left, leaving the group behind as we speed up and turn towards the front of the building. As we get close to the front I look back to see the others still walking slowly and then judge the distance and how long it will take them to get past us. At the pace they’re going we could have a few games of ten pin and still catch them up.
We drop down to a steady walk as we near the front doors and I bring my axe up to hold in both hands, watching Nick do the same. The doors are big wooden double doors, smashed and hanging from the hinges. We look down at the dried blood stains smeared across the ground and disappearing under the next set of doors. The interior doors yield as I push them open and we step gently into the slightly darker interior. Still early morning and the sun hasn’t risen fully yet so the shadows in here are still long and dark.
We step slowly, going past vending and gaming machines that look dark and lifeless without electricity powering through them. In front of us is the large square reception area with rows of red and white bowling shoes stacked up in various sizes. To the left are more machines and doors leading to offices and toilets. To the right is the café, bar and restaurant which is the direction our rumbling stomachs lead us.
The bar and eating area are sectioned off by a high brown wooden wall with two swing doors, giving it a Wild West saloon look. I take point and push the doors which creak ominously as they swing open. Nick steps through behind me and they swing closed, flapping noisily a couple of times. There is a long bar to the left, seating to the right and the door leading to the kitchens is straight ahead. I nudge Nick and motion with my head towards the windows and the sight of the still limping zombie still struggling to get along outside.
We stalk towards the doorway, taking each step slowly and straining our ears to listen for any noises. A few steps away from the door it suddenly bursts open. A young Asian woman steps through quickly and stands facing us, a massive meat cleaver in her hands. Long dark hair scraped back into a pony tail frames a very pretty face, her small build stands solidly, her hands look steady as she holds the cleaver with a double grip. Eyes dart from me to Nick then back again. She takes in the big axes, the shotgun stocks poking out the top of our rucksacks but she doesn’t show fear, if anything she looks more resolute.
‘Hey,’ I keep my tone light, ‘Nick back up mate.’ I step back and hear Nick shuffling a few steps away. ‘Sorry, we didn’t realise anyone was here, we’re just looking for some food.’ She stays silent, staring at Nick and then back at me.
‘Those front doors aren’t locked or secured, anyone could get in here.’ She remains quiet, only her eyes move.
‘Listen, we’re not a threat to you, we came here yesterday looking for survivors from our group. A load of women and children that might have come into the harbour on boats?’ She doesn’t show any sign of listening, ‘they might have had a few uniformed police officers with them.’ Still nothing. ‘That’s some of our group out there,’ I point out the window and watch her eyes dart over. A slight look of surprise crosses her face before she purposefully blanks it out and looks back at us.
‘Okay, listen my name is Howie and this is Nick. We’re from Fort Spitbank on the mainland; if you see our group will you tell them it’s safe to return now?’ Silence.
‘Fair enough, we’ll go. I don’t know if you’re alone or if others are with you and I don’t want to know but there are hundreds of those things two minutes up that road. You need to get those doors secure.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t speak English Mr Howie,’ her eyes flick to Nick as he speaks.
‘Do you speak English? No, okay if you do understand me then try and get across the water to Fort Spitbank. It’s a safe place, safer than here anyway. If you do go a big man called Chris will be there, tell him you met Howie and we’re still looking for our group. Tell him Darren is over here, got it?’ She doesn’t respond nor move an inch.
‘Come on, let’s go.’
‘Sir,’ Nick affirms.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ I say with a nod and turn my back to start walking back to the swing doors. Shaking my head at the sadness of it all.
‘That’s a pity, I’m bloody starving,’ Nick mutters as he pushes through the doors.
‘We’ll find somewhere else mate.’
‘Wait,’ she calls out as we reach the exit door, we turn round to see her standing there holding one side of the swing door open, the meat cleaver now down at her side.
‘I saw them,’ she stares at us, her face still a mask.
‘What?’
‘I saw them come from the harbour, women and children. There were lots of them,’ her voice is confident southern English.
‘Where did they go?’ My voice is urgent.
‘That way,’ she points in the same direction that the undead is slowly heading.
‘Were they okay?’
‘They looked okay, they didn’t hang around.’
‘Okay, any idea where they could have gone?’ She looks puzzled for a second, ‘I mean they’ll go for somewhere safe that can hold that many people.’
‘I don’t know,’ she says, shaking her head.
‘Are you from here?’
‘Yeah,’ she nods once, still unsure.
‘How many are in your group?’ She bites her bottom lip and hesitates. ‘Listen, I promise we’re not a threat to you. We were just looking for food while we trail that zombie,’ I point out to Dave and the others slowly ambling by. She steps forward to look past me through the doors and out into the road.
‘Why?’ She asks.
‘Long story, he might lead us to someone we need to…er…’ How do I explain about Darren without sounding like a nutcase?
‘One of our lads got turned, he’s different to the others though he can speak and think like normal. He’s trying to find our group before we do. That thing might lead us to him.’ Nick cuts in explaining and it doesn’t sound so weird now.
She nods, seeming to understand, ‘It’s just me,’ she says quickly, ‘I mean here, it’s just me.’
‘Why did you come out then? This place is massive you could have hidden or something.’ I ask her.
‘I thought you were those things…it’s daytime, they move slow in the day.’
‘Didn’t you hear us talking?’ She shakes her head, ‘And they don’t always move slowly in the daytime. The risk was too great you should have hidden until you knew what the threat was. We could have taken you and this place with ease the way you presented yourself like that.’
She stares at me defiantly and I realise the tone of voice I used was one of authority. This woman doesn’t know me, who am I to tell her what to do?
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,’ I apologise.
‘It’s okay,’ she mutters quietly.
‘You could come with us if you want. I meant what I said about there being hundreds of those things up the road. If they get a whiff of you they’ll be in here quick as anything and like I said they don’t always stay slow in the day.’ I make the offer but despite her poker face I can tell from spending so much time with Dave that she is worried.
‘I
’m Howie, this is Nick.’
‘You said that already,’ she replies with half a smile.
‘Did I? Fair enough. What’s your name?’
‘Milani…Lani.’
‘Nice to meet you Lani,’ I nod at her.
‘Is there any food here?’ Nick asks. I smile at the thought that he must be starving to keep asking.
‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘not really anyway, some crisps and things but it all went off when the power went.’
‘Crisps will do, I’m bloody starving, where are they? Can I go and get some?’ Nick asks in such a friendly tone that she smiles and nods.
‘In the kitchen, help yourself,’ she motions behind her through the bar.
‘Is that okay Mr Howie?’ Nick asks before scooting off through the swing doors.
‘Get some for the others but leave some for Lani here.’
‘Will do,’ Nick shouts.
‘Lani, I meant what I said. You are welcome to come with us, you’re local and we don’t know anywhere round here. Some of our lads are ex-army and I guess what you’re worried about but I promise no one will touch you or try anything like that.’ Mentioning the thing that must be worrying her makes her react by lifting her head and staring at me defiantly again.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ I put the axe down and reach back to draw my shotgun from the bag, she steps back a little at seeing the weapon in my hands, ‘don’t worry, just hang on a second,’ I break the gun to show the cartridges in the barrels, ‘it’s loaded with two shells now, this is the safety switch here. Just slide it back and pull the trigger, the range isn’t good but at short range they’re devastating. Here, you take it,’ I hold the weapon out with the stock presented to her. She frowns at the offer and hesitates before slowly stepping forward to take the weapon and holding it awkwardly in her hands.
‘Please don’t point it at anyone unless you mean to shoot them, and make sure the safety is on. We only use them when we have to; the noise draws them from bloody everywhere.’
‘What about you?’ She asks, nodding at the axe.
‘I’ve got this and a pistol,’ I draw the pistol from the holster in the middle of my back then realise it might be easier for her to carry that instead of the shotgun. ‘You can have this instead if you want, they kick like a mule though and unless you shoot them in the head they’re no good.’