by RR Haywood
‘Yeah fair one,’ if it hadn’t been for Sarah and the others saying they’d be coming with us it wouldn’t bother me so much, but the thought of leading my sister and the rest of them into a fight like that is just awful. Looking over I see them all staring at me and Dean and I wonder if they can work out what’s being said from our body language.
‘But we still honour the promise of getting the rest of them to the boats as soon as possible.’
‘Okay mate, I appreciate that. Listen, there’s a few more that are coming out with us now. Have you got any spare weapons we can take?’
‘We can spare a few shotguns and some ammunition and we’ve got a couple of other bits and pieces too. I’ll get them ready for you.’
‘Cheers mate, no hard feelings,’ I extend my hand which he takes with a firm grasp.
‘So you’ve given him the bad news then?’ Paul says as he strides towards us, a sour expression twisting his features.
‘It’s no problem Paul, we did make the offer in the first place.’
‘I think it’s fucking terrible,’ he spits, ‘and I stand by what I said too, I will be going with you and so will a few others.’
‘Paul…’ Dean turns to the man with a worried look.
‘No Dean it’s not on, it’s just not on,’ Paul waves his hand as his voice rises, ‘it’s utterly barbaric to send these people out and let them do the dangerous work so we can stay in safety here. You heard what they said; those fucking things will come for us no matter if these people are here or not.’
‘Paul we put it to a vote,’ Dean says patiently and I can tell he doesn’t really believe in what he’s saying.
‘Yes we did Dean, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it and I made it perfectly clear that if you chose to send them out then I would be going too.’
‘That’s your decision Paul,’ Dean sighs walking off, his shoulders slumped in defeat ‘I’ll get some weapons ready Howie.’
‘Thank you,’ with a sinking heart I wait for Dean to leave then glance over to see Clarence and Dave both staring at me. My look tells them everything they need to know and they both nod back at me. ‘We’d better get ready,’ I say to Paul. Suddenly feeling there’s nothing else to say I walk away back towards my group. Clarence, Dave and the lads walk across to intercept me.
‘We’re going out then?’ Clarence asks wiping sweat from his face.
‘Yep,’ my response is curt.
‘I don’t want them to come with us,’ he growls with quiet intensity, ‘it doesn’t feel right.
‘I agree Mr Howie,’ Nick adds quickly, ‘no offence but we’ve got this far together and we know how to fight alongside each other.’
‘Look at last night, we held fucking shit loads of them off for hours on our own,’ Cookey swears with as much intensity as Clarence.
‘I don’t like it any more than you do,’ I reply watching Sarah and the others looking at us.
‘We could get them inside and just move out quickly,’ Clarence urges, ‘get Dean or whoever to lock the doors up and not let them out.’
‘She’ll go fucking nuts,’ they all know I mean Sarah.
‘She can go nuts but at least she’ll be alive,’ Clarence says.
‘They’re coming over,’ Blowers mutters quietly. Turning round to face them we couldn’t look guiltier if we tried and I watch Sarah’s facial expression change as she gets close enough to speak.
‘I know exactly what you’re thinking and it won’t bloody work,’ she looks at each of us in turn.
‘Dean said we can stay the night,’ Cookey tries lying but it falls instantly flat and his voice trails off as Sarah, Terri and Sergeant Hopewell fix him with a trio of hard stares.
‘Did he?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks Cookey quietly but the tone leaves no doubt of her ability to see through him.
‘No…’ Cookey mumbles looking down and we all feel the same guilt for trying to deceive them.
‘Right, so we’re going out to meet them,’ a statement not a question as Terri looks straight at me.
‘I’m not having this,’ Clarence draws himself up to his full height, plants his feet apart, folds his massive arms and inflates his chest to stare down at them.
‘Not having what?’ Sarah smiles at him sweetly, skilfully avoiding drawing a confrontation out knowing that’s what he’s trying to do.
‘Not having you coming with us,’ his voice drops to a deeper rumble. Sarah looks up at him with a loving gaze and gives a small smile. The big man hesitates just for a split second but it’s enough to show her he’s lost the battle of wills.
‘How do you want to do this?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks in a business-like manner.
‘Do this?’ I can feel my temper starting to fray, ‘do this? Have you any idea what you’re going into. We’ve been fighting alongside each other solidly for nine days now and we’ve learnt to move together, to anticipate each other’s movements, we know instinctively when to press forward and when to drop back, we’ve learnt that through nine fucking days of solid fucking fighting so forgive me but it’ll be us fucking doing this. You,’ I point at them, ‘will just get in the fucking way.’ Silence for several seconds and stupidly I feel maybe I’ve gone too far and caused serious offence, still clinging onto cultural values and the strict moral codes of our society. But even more stupidly I press on, ramming the point home, ‘I get it…we all get it okay. We get your point that it’s not our job to save you and it’s not our job to go and die for anyone but…and please listen to this…we stand a better chance of surviving if it is just us…’
‘But…’ Terri goes to speak but a hard look from me silences her. ‘No buts Terri,’ I continue with my ranting, ‘and they still need someone to look out for them, who is going to do that if we’re all dead? What if they get off the boats on the other side and find another horde waiting for them? How are they going to get to the fort or shall we just call Chris and get him to come pick them up in his fleet of coaches?’
‘Howie,’ Sarah says softly.
‘No Sarah, if you had been fighting them for the length of time we had and if those terrified women and children had someone else to look after them then maybe it would be a good idea but you didn’t and they don’t so it’s a shit idea.’
‘How do we get experience if we don’t start fighting them Mr Howie?’ Tom asks quietly showing a rare serious side to his nature.
‘Exactly,’ Sarah glares at me, ‘and by fighting with you we’re taking away the biggest threat which is Darren, and another thing, those women are not some incapable bunch of weaklings. They need to take responsibility for their own safety and they can fire shotguns and swing axes as well as anyone. Stop being so fucking sexist.’
‘This isn’t about being sexist; this isn’t a workplace, this isn’t some job where you can moan about equal rights or lack of fucking promotion for women. This is about having the right people to do the task at hand and right now we,’ I wave my hand at the men standing by me, ‘are the right people to do this simply because we’ve been doing it non-stop since this thing started.’
‘And we won’t get experienced and as good as you unless we jump in and start fighting too.’ Terri yells back.
‘Listen to me and listen well,’ I step forward and can feel pure fury threatening to explode. Every word I say comes out through gritted teeth and the rage that propelled me through so many fights and battles suddenly manifests itself making every one of them recoil, ‘this is how it is; we are going to head them off and you are going to take our people back to our fort. Do I make myself clear? I SAID DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?’ I look to each one in turn, eyes drop away from my intense glare, feet shuffle awkwardly but the silence tells me I’ve finally got through.
‘Okay,’ Sarah finally breaks the silence with a quiet response, ‘you’re right, you’ve got us this far.’
‘We need to get our people inside. Dave, Dean was going to get us some weapons. Find him and tell him we don’t need them but take whatev
er ammunition you can find.’
‘On it,’ Dave affirms jogging away quickly with Lani running after him.
‘Nick, Cookey make sure all our bags have got water and food, Blowers and Clarence I want you two to clean our weapons and make sure they’re ready, distribute the ammunition amongst the bags once Dave brings it back.’ They break away instantly leaving me with the rest of our group standing in an awkward silence.
‘Howie I want you to take Steven and Tom with you, no hang on please let me finish,’ Sergeant Hopewell holds her hand up, ‘they’re good lads, young and fit and they’ll keep up. You do understand that while we accept your leadership at this time I am still a Police Sergeant and therefore recognised by any form of government to take control in times of extreme incidents. This is my decision and you will offend me greatly, and these two, if you don’t accept them into your group. They are both trained to take orders and they will do as they are told when they are told. The rest of us can ensure the safety of everyone else.’
‘Howie listen to the Sergeant,’ Ted adds in his fatherly tone, ‘you boys know what you’re doing out there and we accept that but these lads are itching to get stuck in and like they said, they need the experience and there’s no time like the present.’ I look at Steven and Tom, my only experiences have been of them squabbling and playing the fool but they’re the same age as Nick, Blowers and Cookey and I guess maybe there is a time to be a stubborn fool and a time to concede.
‘Okay, lads go and find Dave, get your shotguns sawn off and ask Dave to find you some hand weapons to fight with for when it starts getting nasty. Wait!’ I shout as they start running off, ‘make sure you have backpacks that the shotguns can fit into, we’ll need to be light on our feet and we cannot afford to be holding two weapons if we get caught out.’
‘Sir,’ they both shout back and start jogging off towards the doors. I can see Terri is seething from the decision made by her Sergeant but Sarah just looks crestfallen and deeply worried. The local guards start moving into the park ushering people back inside. The parents respond instantly with the conception that men with guns must be making the right decisions. Children cry with disappointment as they’re pulled and carried away from the play area.
We stroll over to the bags as Clarence and Blowers sit down quickly breaking the shotguns open and cleaning them through. I go from bag to bag taking all the shotgun cartridges out and putting them into a pile, Sarah drops down and starts helping me in stilted silence.
‘We don’t have enough pistols for Steven and Tom,’ I scratch my head already worrying about the smaller details that I know will keep us alive.
‘They can have mine and Dave’s,’ Clarence replies.
‘You two are the best shots with them. It’d make more sense for me and one of the others to go without.’
‘True, but we’re also less likely to need them,’ Clarence glances up with a wicked grin breaking the tension with his barbed joke.
‘Funny bugger,’ I mutter with a quiet laugh.
‘Fuck it, I’ll take two if you’re going to argue,’ Cookey jokes, ‘I can be like Bruce Willis and dive across the ground firing both of them at the same time.’
‘And break your ribs and lie on the floor groaning like a twat,’ Blowers adds.
‘Oh you’d like me lying on the floor groaning wouldn’t you, face down by any chance?’ Cookey replies.
‘That’s what your mum said,’ Blowers laughs.
‘Don’t start on my mum.’
‘Well don’t start with the gay jokes then.’
‘I’m not…I just think it’s about time you came out the closet.’
‘Your mum wouldn’t even fit in the closet.
The lads banter, Clarence smiles and the world rolls on its gentle course as seconds pass into minutes. Before too long the shotguns are cleaned and ready and the cartridges are re-distributed evenly throughout the bags. The lads stand up passing cigarettes round and we enjoy a smoke in the warm summer air, while we wait for Dave to come back.
So we can move out and pick another fight with a horde of zombies.
Six
The next few hours are spent working our way further into the town, going from street to street and finding survivors everywhere. It surprises me that these fuckwits don’t all get together and fortify one of their shitty little streets. We’d still get through eventually but they would kill a few of us in the process and at least they would go out fighting instead of cowering under their beds covered in their own piss and shit. These fucking pussies are just waiting to die, hiding in vain and convincing each other that help is coming and they just have to wait it out. Slaughtering them becomes so easy that if it wasn’t for the sheer frenzied urge of ripping their flesh apart it could almost become boring, I say almost because the urge is so strong that it could never actually become mundane. We get the tactic down to a fine art; entering the street quietly and going to the first house. Breaking a window or simply sending a few heavy zombie bodies at it and smashing it open then I let them rip, sending them in fast and loud and after that we just have to follow the scent of fear until we root them out to finish them off screaming and wailing, begging for the lives. But they don’t know what life is until they’ve tried this.
A strange thing happened late in the afternoon which I kept to myself. We had entered one of the big suburban houses and I almost puked at the sight of more beige walls and cream carpets, not to mention the black and white artistically framed photographs of the occupants all dressed in black jumpers and smiling unnaturally. I even saw a picture of a pebble, an actual photograph of a fucking pebble on a beach. Further down the hallway I saw another framed picture of the same pebble but this time it was on a picnic table, then another with the pebble poised artfully next to a stream. What fucking moron took a pebble with them and took pictures of it in different scenes? Fucking arseholes. We found the occupants hiding as normal in the upstairs bedroom. And as normal the mother took a flying charge with a big knife but she got dispatched quickly by Marcy. She was quite fit and attractive and I stood there for a couple of minutes watching her bleed out while Marcy and some of our babies went into the room to finish the screaming brats off. While I was standing there I heard a whimpering coming from another door, following the sound I found an adult male with a thick bushy dark beard hiding behind the shower curtain in the bathroom.
As I pulled the curtain back he pissed himself with fear making me shake my head at his lack of bravery. I told him to kneel down which he did willingly, now if a deranged naked zombie walked into my bathroom and told me to kneel down I’d be telling him to fuck off and throwing everything in sight at his zombie face, but this pussy just complied weakly and knelt down in the bathtub crying his eyes out.
‘I’m going to bite you to death,’ I said to him but he just stayed there whimpering, ‘I’m going to bend down and sink my teeth into your neck and my infection will enter your bloodstream, you will die and a couple of minutes later you’ll come back and be one of them stupid twats running around and drooling.’
He still didn’t react so I took it slow, bending over and nuzzling his exposed neck with my teeth. The fucker actually craned his head so I could get easier access which just annoyed me so I finished him off quickly with a big bite and watched with interest as he bled out spraying crimson all over the white tiles, like something from a Hitchcock film. With the same detached interest I stood there waiting for him to come back. Eventually he started twitching and convulsing until his eyes opened all red and bloodshot. The funny thing was that I didn’t feel a connection to him, there was nothing. I probed and concentrated but he just didn’t exist in my mind.
‘Wow, this feels strange,’ he said in a very normal way.
‘You can talk?’ I asked him.
‘It would appear so,’ he replied and started shuffling round from his slumped position in the bathtub.
‘Is that all my blood?’ He asked with interest pointing at the blood dripping down the
walls.
‘Yes, how can you talk?’
‘How on earth should I know, can’t they all talk?’
‘No.’
‘Well you appear to be talking well enough.’
‘That’s because I’m special.’
‘That woman can talk too, I heard you both.’
‘She’s special too.’
‘Well I guess I must be special too then, here give me a hand.’ I didn’t like the way he said it as he stretched his arm out. He looked intelligent and cultured, refined and intellectual.
‘Well don’t just stand there my boy, help me out.’
‘My boy?’
‘I am decidedly older than you so my use of the phrase “my boy” is inherently one of the deepest respect young man so please don’t just stand there, this blood is very slippery.’ I stood there watching him slip and slide with growing frustration until he eventually got a grip and stood up properly. He then stepped out of the bath and stood in front of me, examining my face and looking down at my naked body with a slight sneer.
‘Why are you naked?’
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t be surly, I asked you a question.’
‘You shouldn’t speak to me like that.’
‘And why not?’
‘Because I’m in charge.’
‘Well we shall see about that young man, now I am very hungry and I want you to show me how all this works.’
‘Darren who are you talking to?’ Marcy called out from behind the bathroom door.
‘Just myself, chattering away to myself…’ She pushed the door open and walked in to see me standing over the now properly dead man pulling the toothbrush out of his eye socket where I had slammed it in through to the brain.
‘What happened to him?’
‘Oh he got a bit chopsy so I had to finish him off properly…’
‘He’s not coming back then?’
‘Er…no my love, not this one.’
‘Oh well, missing one won’t hurt, here I found these for you.’ She hands me a pair of blue jeans and in my shocked state of having found not only a talking zombie, but one that clearly wanted to usurp me, take Marcy for himself and rule my babies, I took the jeans with just a smile and a nod.