by RR Haywood
‘Bloody hell are you two related by any chance?’ looking between them both I shake my head at the similarities.
‘No Mr Howie, I think Lani is from Thailand,’ Dave replies seriously.
‘Right well let’s get going then,’ I sigh at the sheer absurdity of it and hear Nick give an audible “Yes!” which gets quick glances from the rest of us. With Nick looking sheepish we move out and on this ninth day we become nine. Nine bloody idiots going out to pick a fight with a dirty bunch of infected zombies.
Still, at least it’s not raining.
Eight
‘What’s it called again?’
‘Puckpool,’ she answers.
‘That’s a stupid fucking name for a place. You think that’s where they’ve gone?’
‘It’s the only place round here that could hold that many people, we’ll try there first,’ she says and having clearly made the decision of where we’re going she strides on. Marcy also decided that it wasn’t appropriate to go into battle naked, I argued this by saying that it might distract some of the young lads if she comes charging at them with her boobs bouncing about all over the place. I got a funny look for that comment and she asked me if I thought her boobs were saggy then. I said no of course I didn’t think that but any woman’s boobs would bounce if she ran about naked. Dressed to kill, I’m still wearing the fucking awful jeans and boots. She noticed that I pulled the bottoms of the jeans out from the boots and refused to walk anywhere until I’d tucked them back in. In just this one day I’ve learnt that doing what Marcy wants makes my undead life a lot easier. She’s very bossy but then she does keep reminding me of how I screwed up before when I had tens of thousands of zombies with me, and anyone that can fuck something like that up needs to be told what to do.
I’ve never really had a girlfriend before. In the previous life I was just a lazy twat that smoked too much dope and hung around on the streets doing fuck all. That and playing Xbox was pretty much all I did. Then they told me I had to join the Territorial Army to get my benefit money. Stupid fuckers should have left me at home smoking weed and playing Call of Duty. So I’ve never really had a girlfriend before or even that much to do with women so I don’t know if they’re all this bossy and demanding. But she’s very pretty and she seems to know what she’s doing so it’s easier to just go along with it, and a super zombie should have a good woman with him.
Finally she was ready after pissing about making sure her clothes were right and her hair was brushed and the blood was washed from her face. Then she put a little bit of make up on while me and the horde stood about making small talk. Well I made small talk and they just listened mostly, with the odd sympathetic groan here and there. When she came out of the house she was using I had my babies doing some warm up exercises, stretching their arms back and forth and a bit of light jogging on the spot. They were already formed up in their four groups so the ones nearest to me were the worst of the bunch with ragged injuries and limbs half hanging off. The ones that hadn’t been turned by me were just standing there staring dumbly with drool pouring out of their mouths.
Marcy led us through the streets, going pretty much back the way we came, all the better to admire the trail of destruction we’d left behind us. Doors hanging open, windows smashed in, blood smears and trails everywhere and the odd corpse of those that had been too heavily injured or eaten by the horde. As we neared the seafront I could smell the blazing buildings long before they came into sight and turning the last corner before the esplanade I looked back with sheer joy at the huge roaring fire spread along the whole row of buildings from the hotel through to the last house. Long orange flames licked up at the sky as thick black clouds rolled and boiled around them
Now with the blaze behind us we set off on the road parallel to the sweeping bay, heading towards Howie and his little piggy fucktards.
Nine
‘Lani, once we make contact we need to lead them inland and away from here,’ I drop back a few steps with Dave and Clarence to speak with our local expert.
‘We need somewhere we can use for the night,’ Clarence adds, ‘somewhere defensible.’
‘What like a house or something?’ Lani asks.
‘Too many points of entry in a house,’ Dave says, ‘we want to funnel them so they can’t all attack at the same time.’
‘But with an escape route in case we have to give ground,’ Clarence adds.
‘You don’t want much then,’ she looks thoughtfully ahead, ‘there’s a big church at the top of the town. It’s got a main entrance with double doors and a big porch that sticks out.’
‘A recessed door, how big is the recess?’ Dave asks.
‘I don’t know,’ she answers with a shake of her head.
‘Roughly, how many people could fit in it?’
‘About ten in a line from front to back if they were squashed up.’
‘Other doors?’ Dave probes.
‘There’s a back entrance that goes into an annexe, they use it for first aid training and that kind of thing. There’s a door that leads from the annexe into the church but it’s really old and solid.’
‘Single or double sized?’ Dave continues.
‘Erm, it’s only a single door.’
‘What about the windows?
‘They’re glass but they’re quite high up and narrow. It’s got a big spire that people can go up to look down at the town.’
‘That would be perfect if we had rifles instead of shotguns, are there any gunsmiths in the town?’ I ask her.
‘Any what?’ She asks.
‘Gunsmiths, shops that sell guns.’
‘No, only in the main town about ten miles away.’
‘So it’s got a main recessed entrance and the rear door, any other exits?’ I ask.
‘There might be but I only know those two.’
‘A church has thick walls and it would funnel them with a deep porch, but if there’s only two exits we could get trapped,’ Clarence says.
‘But with that tower Lani mentioned we could go up that and hold them off easily, that will only have a single access point or stairs that could be defended. It’s a strong contender, what other places are there?’ I ask again and watch Lani as she looks out to the distance in contemplation.
‘The pier?’ She points across the bay to the long black pier jutting out into the blue water, ‘that’s long and thin with only one way up it.’
‘How wide is it?’ Dave asks.
‘Er, maybe two car widths or a bit more than that. I know two cars can pass each other on the way up.’
‘That’s quite wide, it’ll be hard to defend but we’ll keep it in mind. I think we should aim for the church unless we find something else on the way or Lani thinks of any other places.’ They nod back as I glance round to make sure everyone heard the plan and we keep going. In the distance we can see the huge plumes of thick black smoke high in the air and I get a visual image of Chris standing at the back of the fort looking over the sea and watching the smoke with a small wry smile wondering what devastation we’re wreaking over here.
None of has eaten properly or slept for a long time, getting by on adrenalin and adventure. The threat of death has kept us alert and ready but this can’t be sustained. At some point we need to stop, rest, eat, sleep but right now I can’t think when that will be. Every time we think we’ve reached our objective things change and fuck up. We had to fight to get the Saxon, then fight to reach the hospital and Sarah. Then we were fighting all the way back down thinking we’ll be safe at the forts only to face another massive battle. Each time we keep thinking this will be it, this will be the final act and we can rest but as with everything else since this terrible event started it’s all gone to rat shit. Even now marching out we’re thinking we’ll lure Darren away and get our people back to our fort and then it’ll be over but it won’t. It will never be over.
We need to evolve the same way Darren is, or the way the infection keeps changing. Something inside me
screams that we need to attack and drive them down, press the attack and keep going no matter what happens. Lure them away, fight, run, fight and all the time cull their numbers. Only by killing every last one of them can we ever hope to live in peace. Darren won’t stop until he turns every last one of us. He has to die and die properly this time.
Ten
Howie is a cunt, a dirty cunning bastard and as long as he is alive he will inspire all the other hero wannabes that they can fight and kill us. Instead of hiding away and being easy prey for us to come along and chomp on them, they’ll get all tough with nasty gleams in their eyes and instead of standing there pissing themselves and shaking like leaves holding little kitchen knives, they’ll be going into their garages and sheds looking for big heavy sharp things. Making weapons and learning how to use bows and arrows. I could arm my babies and give them all knives but the stupid buggers would probably just stab themselves or each other when they got all frenzied and worked up. And there’s no way I can control so many individuals if they’re using hand weapons. I can lead them, show them which way to go and even control a few during a scrap but that’s about it. The control I have is strong but not that good. So before Howie and his cuntrunt Dave can start leading some kind of do-gooding resistance movement he has to die. He has to die painfully and slowly, an awful death that makes him scream and beg and when he turns I’ll send him back to them so they have to kill him again. That will take the fight out of them. It will send a message to leave us alone and let us live in peace. We need to feed just the same as them and we’ve as much right as they do to go after our food source. Just because it happens to be them we need to eat to survive is not our fault. That’s nature. Lions and wolves aren’t evil. They kill to survive. They take what they need to ensure the survival of their species. Same as us.
This has to end and Howie must die before he becomes a folk hero cunt with songs sung about him. Poems and stories whispered at night to small children about how they need to eat their vegetables and sleep well so they can grow big and strong and become like Howie the hero of the people. Fuck him. Fuck Dave and Fuck Howie and Fuck all their little piggy fucktard twats.
Eleven
‘Contact Mr Howie, straight ahead of us on the road,’ Dave shades his eyes to stare off into the distance. Copying his actions I strain and squint until tears start filling my eyes but I can’t see anything. Just the beach, the sea, the woods to one side and the road ahead of us stretching for miles.
‘Yeah I can see them,’ Blowers says, ‘in the distance there’s a thick black line of them. They almost look part of the road Mr Howie.’ I relax my gaze and stare at the road ahead of us letting my eyes sweep along the concrete, taking in all the details and colours until there in the far distance I see a black smudge that becomes clearer as my mind works to process the images. The smudge is moving. A snake slithering across the road, long, dark and gently undulating.
‘There must be hundreds,’ I can already feel my heart beating faster at the sight of them. They are earlier than expected. We thought we’d be able to get into the town and find them before they started coming for us. The fact that they’re heading in this direction means they’ve worked out where our group could be hiding.
‘There’s a lane at the side of the café Mr Howie, where we found the van earlier to pull the shutters off. We can lead them up that lane and away from here,’ Lani suggests urgently. Looking down the path I can see the café, then I look further up at the black mass of undead and then back down to the café.
‘Speed up,’ I give the simple order and start a gentle jog. We need to make that café well before they get close. We need a chance for them to see us, start coming and then leg it away. Checking round me I see the others are moving faster now and thankfully they’ve sorted their bags well enough that nothing falls out or comes loose. Waiting a couple of minutes for stiff muscles to warm up I gradually increase the pace. Still jogging but getting faster and ensuring we get to that café.
Twelve
‘I spy with my zombie eye something beginning with C.’
‘C?’ Marcy asks, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘Cunts,’ I nod forward and point to the distance.
‘Can you see them?’ She says excitedly, staring off and scanning the bay, beach, sea. Everywhere but the bloody path in front of her.
‘See them? I can smell the nasty little wankers.’
‘Really?’ She sniffs the air in front of her.
‘Not literally Marcy.’
‘Oh well don’t say it then if you can’t actually smell them. Is that them?’ She points to the distant figures.
‘Yep, I’d recognise his gay run anywhere.’
‘Darren! What did I say about using gay insults?’
‘Sorry Marcy?’
‘Thank you.’
‘They’re coming straight at us.’
‘We should speed up,’ she says.
‘No, don’t waste energy. They’re coming this way so let them get closer before we do anything.’ I can feel his blood in my mouth. I can taste it. I can taste Howie’s death. He’s close. So is Dave. My undead zombie heart kicks up a notch and despite what I just said I can’t help but start moving faster.
Thirteen
‘Quicker,’ muscles warmed up and lungs starting to work harder we increase our pace and keep watch between the café and the thick mass coming towards us.
‘Everyone okay?’ I call out mainly for the benefit of the new arrivals but I get a round robin chorus of replies. Eyes now locked on the horde I can see Darren has been busy killing and gathering more undead to join his evil quest. There are hundreds of them all moving as one and keeping steady with their leader.
Getting closer I can see two distinct figures out front, one of them must be Darren but I have no idea who the other is or how his vanity would allow someone else to walk out front with him. Our two groups, so vastly different in size edge closer and closer. The gap shrinks with every step we take and every one of those steps brings us closer to the real and serious risk of dying a horrible tortured death at the hands and mouths of those evil spawn.
With the café in full view now we keep running and see there is a safe length of distance between us and them and thankfully the horde have not started running at us yet.
‘He’s learning,’ Dave says.
‘He is mate, keeping them full of energy so we can have a good scrap. Hear that lads? Darren is keeping them all safe and together, he’s learning, he’s getting better.’
‘Fuck him Mr Howie,’ Blowers snorts.
‘We’ll still win,’ Nick adds and I hear the hard tones in their voices, the bitterness and the rage is there, ready to be focussed and used.
‘I fucking love this,’ Cookey suddenly spits out making the rest of us laugh, ‘why don’t we just fucking charge them and get at it.’
Stupidly. Amazingly and without doubt his suggestion gains a second or two of serious thought. Well I know I give it serious thought and something hangs in the air that suggest Dave, Clarence and the other two lads are too. Not so sure about Tom, Steven and Lani though.
‘I never told you this before Clarence, but er…Darren once said you were fat and ugly,’ Cookey continues the jokes, his way of dealing with the impending fight.
‘Did he now?’ Clarence growls.
‘Do you think they’ve seen us?’ Steven asks. Despite his nervous question his voice sounds steady enough.
‘I reckon so mate,’ my voice comes out low and gets a quick glance from Dave jogging at my side. He gives a small rare smile and I can see the gleam in his eyes.
‘Nick, get in the café and drag out the gas bottles from that barbeque,’ Dave orders as we reach the front of the building. The horde are several hundred metres away and still moving at the same steady pace but the sheer size of the zombie army coming at us makes it feel as if they are closer.
We pause, chests rising and falling as we get our breathing back under control. Nick dart
s in, re-appearing with a gas bottle in each hand. Dave takes one from Nick and takes the pistol from Nick’s belt all in one smooth move. He hands the gas bottle to Clarence and nods at the approaching horde. Clarence looks down at the gas bottle, takes it and weighs it in his hand for a second while looking at the zombies. With a nod at Dave he turns to face them.
‘No fucking way,’ Cookey mutters, ‘they’re too far away.’
‘Yeah? Watch this, ready Dave?’ Clarence says quietly.
‘Ready,’ Dave slides the top of the pistol back and stands with it held in a two handed grip down in front of him. Clarence swings the gas bottle back and forth a few times before spinning round and forward and sending it soaring into the sky. Dave’s reaction is instant, the pistol is raised and tracks the bottle as it sails slowly end over end towards the horde. The rest of us watch with baited breath as the bottle arcs up then starts coming down to earth; clearing the front of the horde and dropping down deep within the ranks. Two loud retorts sound out. One from the single shot Dave fires and a split second later from the gas bottle as it explodes. The pressure wave sends the packed ranks spewing out in all directions, lacerated by scorching hot fragments of the gas bottle and burnt from the ignition of the gas contained within.
Cheers erupt as Clarence is handed the second bottle, he nods at Dave then spins round and forward again. As he releases the bottle he roars out in animalistic rage and the gas bottle flies higher and goes further than the previous one. Dave tracks the bottle and again fires at the very last second; as it drops to within a few feet of the horde. With a huge explosion the bottle bursts into a ball of flame eliciting another eruption of cheers from us.