by RR Haywood
I feel numb and strangely flat, like I was expecting a fanfare or some divine light to shine down when we finally got him but nothing happened. We stood in a filthy street and watched a former friend die. Now, standing round the body I can feel a deep sense of sadness that any of this had to happen.
‘That was a good shot Dave,’ I say just to break the oppressive silence.
‘I was aiming for the head.’
‘What from that distance?’
‘I’m tired so I missed.’
‘Bloody hell Dave you still got him.’
‘Yes Mr Howie.’
‘I’m bloody starving,’ Nick interrupts rubbing his stomach, ‘and I still want that swim.’
‘Let’s go down the hill then, we’ll find some more clothes and food, have a swim and then find somewhere to sleep. Sound good?’
‘Fuck yes please!’ Cookey replies.
‘Tom, you alright mate?’
‘I’m fine Mr Howie.’
‘You did well mate…sorry about Steven.’
‘Thanks,’ he nods back but his face remains expressionless.
‘Lani, you too, you did well.’
‘Cheers,’ she smiles once, bright and gorgeous, ‘can we go please, I’m hungry too and I desperately need to wash.’
‘Yep, fair one.’
Seventeen
We head down through the deserted town centre. Walking slowly in the beautiful morning. No one speaks. All are absorbed in their own thoughts and utterly exhausted. I wonder if Tom and Lani would have come if they had known just how bad it would get.
She takes us to a cheap clothes shop with the windows already smashed in and we each grab clean tops, underwear, socks and a mixture of jeans and cargo trousers. Lani grabs a bikini from the shelf and makes it known that she will not be swimming in her underwear and that if anyone tries to swim naked she will shoot them.
‘Does that include Blowers?’ Cookey asks, ‘seeing as he likes boys and not girls.’
‘Cookey fuck off,’ Blowers retorts with a shake of his head.
In a café we find tins of baked beans with mini pork sausages in them. Our hands are washed and scrubbed in the kitchen, using copious amounts of detergent to rinse the filth off. Eating straight from the tins with our axes stuffed down our bags we stroll down the hill, throwing the empty tins straight onto the ground and using the single tin opener we found to open more and stuff the contents into our mouths as quickly as possible. Reaching the esplanade we stare down the road at the blackened still smouldering buildings.
Finally on the beach we ditch our kit and start stripping off, the mood lifts slowly with idle banter being thrown back and forth. Lani makes Clarence stand with his back to her and holding a huge towel she got from the shop, she ducks round and changes into her bikini telling Clarence to make sure no one tries to sneak a peek. He stands like a protective bear glaring at the lads laughing and daring him to have a quick look. They fall silent when she steps out. We all do. The violent toughened zombie killer stands looking demure and breath-taking in her simple black bikini. I have to look away and busy myself with undoing my boot laces otherwise I would happily sit there gawping all day.
‘That shut you up,’ she laughs, ‘so is a girl going to be the first into the sea,’ she starts running as the lads shout that they’re not ready yet. Ditching clothes as they run, they sprint down the beach and into the water, leaving me Dave and Clarence wondering where they got the energy from.
‘Dave, you not coming in?’ I ask as he stands there still dressed.
‘I don’t like the water,’ he shakes his head, ‘I’ll keep watch here.’ Clarence and I stroll down slowly. Enjoying the already warm sun on our bare torsos.
The water is cool and refreshing, sending shivers through our tired bodies. The laughing eases as each person relaxes and lets the salt water cleanse them. Ducking heads under and rubbing our hair, faces and bodies to rid them of the encrusted dirt. Lani swims over to me as I float on my back my arms and legs making occasional small movements to keep me afloat.
‘I’m guessing we’ll need somewhere to rest for a few hours,’ she asks.
‘Yeah, the pier looks good,’ I nod towards the long black structure stretching out into the water just a short distance away.
‘Okay…’ her voice trails off suddenly hesitant.
‘What’s up?’
‘Is it okay to come with you?’ she asks quietly.
‘Bloody hell Lani,’ I laugh gently, ‘I just assumed you would be, of course you should come.’
‘I didn’t want to just think it was okay.’
‘You’re one of us now Lani, a hardened killer of zombies…one of the elite,’ I laugh again and she smiles back, a huge grin that suddenly makes me nervous again.
‘Thanks for last night,’ she says.
‘Eh?’
‘When you poured water on my face and made me rest, thanks for that.’
‘Oh no worries…er…yeah…no problem…anytime.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah fine…should probably get out now,’ I sink down and come up treading water and blinking the sea from my eyes.
‘Mr Howie you get funny sometimes when you talk to me.’
‘Do I? I didn’t notice…’ She smiles again and I curse myself for feeling the blush starting in my cheeks. She notices and laughs with delight and a sudden realisation.
‘Don’t laugh,’ I groan.
‘You’re blushing…its sweet.’
‘I’m not blushing…it’s the sun.’
‘Oh okay Mr Howie,’ she laughs again.
‘It’s just Howie.’
‘Everyone calls you Mr Howie.’
‘I know right…bloody Dave started that off.’
‘I can’t call you Howie; it’ll be weird in front of the others.’
‘Well just when we’re alone then.’
‘Alone?’ She raises her eyebrows and smiles as my cheeks burn from the even deeper blush I can feel spreading across my face.
‘Ah bollocks you know what I meant, stop teasing me.’
‘You alright boss your face is very red,’ Clarence says as he swims over.
‘Er…yeah it’s the sun and I’m…er…knackered…time to get out I think.’ As I swim away the surreal nature of it all hits me again. Tiny nuances of conversation, slight inflections of voice, a raised eyebrow, it’s all part of our confused existence. Give me zombies to kill any day, Dave’s got it right. Ignore anything that you don’t understand.
A few minutes later we’re all dressed in clean clothes and leaving our filthy garments in a pile on the sand. Lani leads us from the beach having made Clarence hold the towel out for her again and I’m grateful that she’s out of that bikini and into normal clothes. We start walking up the long pier, the lads joking around for the first few minutes until the tiredness creeps back in and we walk in silence.
At the end Lani leads us through the ferry terminal buildings to a café with one huge glass wall giving an amazing view of the bay and the town, and better still we can see the length of the pier. I split the group up and we search the buildings and rooms before gathering back in the warm room, Blowers and Cookey return with armfuls of big heavy winter coats used by the ferry and pier staff. Heavy benches are stacked against the double doors and we finally start settling down. Dave offers to take the first watch and promises to wake me after an hour.
Too tired to protest I rest my head on my back pack and stretch my weary limbs out, resting on one of the big jackets. A backpack drops down near to my head followed by Lani kneeling down to smooth out a couple of jackets. There’s plenty of space here and I wonder for a brief second why she’s chosen to lie down so close. My eyes start to droop as I ponder the need people have for closeness and contact. A lone female amongst a group of men she barely knows, terrified and having lost everyone she knew in a world that’s changed and become instantly dangerous. No wonder she wants to be near someone. Someone she senses she can
trust.
As my eyes close and sleep starts to pull me under I feel a small hand touching mine. I open my palm and our fingers entwine. Gripping hard for a second I squeeze back, letting her know it will be okay.
Then I’m gone.
DAY TEN
One
Day Ten.
Sunday.
Laying on his back and resting on his elbows Nick squints from the strong sunshine pouring through the plate glass windows of the café at the top of the long pier. Bathed in sweat he exhales slowly and looks over to the sleeping form of Blowers, amazed at how within the thirty seconds since he nudged him awake to take his turn on watch he has managed to get to his makeshift bed and drift off. With the lure of sleep threatening to pull him back under Nick reluctantly sits up and stretches his hands down to his feet. His hamstrings feel tight; his back muscles feel tight; his arms and just about every muscle in his body feel tight. With a low groan he clambers to his feet and stands with that sleepy fug hanging on his face for long seconds before rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out to the sides.
The last two days have been relentless. Running, fighting, hardly any sleep, crap food, the risk of death at every point and then Lani making them sprint up that bloody hill too. Remembering the hill sprint Nick tenses his thigh muscles and winces at the onset of pain already starting to spread through the deep muscle.
With a yawn he twists round and visually checks the sleeping forms around him. Clarence’s huge bulk flat on his back and snoring away like a walrus with a sinus problem. Blowers and Cookey, like he was just a minute ago, are both sound asleep. Dave, as in his wakeful hours, sleeps quietly on his back with his hands crossed over his chest. Two knives, one either side of his bedding, rest on the floor ready to be gripped and used. Nick notices that Dave has positioned himself between Howie and the entrance. Anything that enters must go through him first. Tom, the new lad curled up on his side facing away from him but he can tell from the steady rise and fall of his upper body that he sleeps soundly. Nick was unsure about Tom and Steven to start off with. Afraid somehow that the bond they had built up between them would be weakened. Steven was lost in the church fight and that’s something Tom will have to deal with. Just as Nick had to when they lost Tucker, Curtis and Jamie.
Finally his eyes come to rest on the prone figures of Howie and Lani. Sleeping close together and Nick notices their hands are entwined. The sight of them lying hand in hand invokes a sudden feeling of unity, closeness, family.
The fractured society of broken family values saw Nick, as with many young men of his age; grow up without a role model. Without that alpha male to guide them and see them through the hard times. In his school days Nick had Miss Rachel, his special needs teacher. An immensely passionate woman who taught Nick that just because he couldn’t read or write that he wasn’t useless, that he was still a person with values and a voice. The tuition was close and exceptions made, the use of her first name instead of surname helping bridge that gap between teacher and student. It was Miss Rachel that encouraged Nick to develop his love of anything electrical and mechanical. Miss Rachel would even bring broken things in and ask Nick to see if he could fix them, but only after he’d tried a few minutes of reading out loud. With her steadying influence and the patience she showed, Nick developed as a person and saw that maybe he wasn’t just destined to get labouring work here and there. But when the school years ended, Nick struggled with the day to day life without that support and quickly became one of the many young men attending the job centre to sign on.
It was the scheme to earn extra benefit and join the Territorial Army that saved his life. He remembers holding the pen over the form and trying to decide if he should sign up and thinking back to the kindness that Miss Rachel showed him and knowing this was his chance to do something different.
Meeting the other lads, and then ultimately Howie gave him something he hadn’t experienced before. A life. A belonging. His skills had already been used several times and not one of them judged his inability. He’d stood on the line with these men in the most utterly terrifying of situations but Nick wouldn’t change any of it.
Howie fills that role as mentor, leader, and a father figure of immeasurable kindness. Brave isn’t a strong enough word for how Nick regards Howie. His ability and never failing courage. Howie would willingly give his life for any one of them to have the chance for survival. That intense look in his eyes and that quiet dark brooding nature, the fire burning away in his soul that drives them on to do things Nick never thought possible. Nick fancied Lani when she came into the group. They all did. The beautiful Thai girl became part of them within a few hours and already Nick couldn’t imagine her not being there. She fought bravely with strength and courage, never failing to take her turn. Now, watching her lie hand in hand with Howie fills Nick with a sense of something, something he can’t explain. Just that it’s right. That’s all.
He quietly opens the rear door leading out onto the outside decking area. The air outside is cooler than the humidity of the enclosed room so he wedges the door open with a patio chair and scans the view. Thick black smoke still plumes from the church fire deep in the town, smaller wisps of smoke spiralling up from the long row of burnt out houses along the seafront. The rest looks serene and peaceful. Golden beaches with the blue waters gently lapping at the shore. The houses look clean and homely. He turns slowly soaking in the view while he pulls a battered packet of cigarettes from his pocket and taps one out. Despite the air being still he still cups the flame of the lighter and inhales the smoke into his lungs. Feeling the rough bite in his dry throat and coughing gently. Exhaling the smoke he looks out following the shore line to the harbour in the distance and the long line of dark objects moving slowly into the sea.
It takes him several seconds of staring dully to realise what he’s seeing. Boats moving away from the harbour. Lots of boats. His heart quickens and his face lights up with the excitement of seeing their group getting safely away from the Island. He throws the cigarette into the waters below and runs back inside, calling out and watching as sleepy forms become suddenly awake forms, leaping to their feet and grabbing weapons to slay whatever foe that has dared to disturb them.
‘The boats,’ Nick coughs, his voice as yet unused since he woke up, ‘boats from the harbour,’ he points to the windows.
The group hastily move out onto the decking and lean against the railing watching with smiles and low cheers at the flotilla of vessels moving safely away.
‘Dean kept his word then,’ Clarence stretches his mighty arms and leans his bulk against the railing which creaks in response.
‘He did,’ Howie nods with a huge grin, ‘he bloody did! Well done Nick, good spot mate.’ Howie grins at the young lad. The others turn to smile and clap him on the shoulders like it was Nick’s own work that got them away safely.
‘Does that mean we get the day off Mr Howie?’ Cookey asked with a mischievous grin.
‘Well I don’t know about that,’ Howie replied scratching his head, ‘but maybe a few hours to relax before we move off. What’s the time?’
‘Just gone two,’ Nick replied checking his watch, ‘and I’m bloody starving.’
‘Again? We only just had food you gutsy bugger,’ Blowers says.
‘That was hours ago,’ Nick replies as he lights another cigarette and hands the pack round. Standing there and with the first good news in days they relax against the barrier, lounging in patio chairs and re-living the night’s events.
‘Tom, how are you mate?’ Howie asks after nodding to the young policeman to step away to the side.
‘I’m good Mr Howie,’ Tom nods back quietly.
‘Listen, I’m sorry about Steven. He was a good lad and it was bad the way he went like that…’ Howie speaks gently, knowing Tom saw him fire his pistol into Tom’s head as he lay dying. The injuries were too bad for survival and Howie couldn’t risk another Darren coming back.
‘I know, you had to do it,’ Tom l
ooks back into the dark eyes of Howie, holding his gaze for seconds and showing that he understands.
‘For what it’s worth mate, I’m glad you came with us. You fought well Tom and I don’t know how we would have got through it without you.’ Howie meant the words too. Tom had fought well and even when Steven fell he didn’t allow himself to falter but pushed on with the same savage ferocity as the rest of them.
‘Mr Howie…’ Tom asked with a sudden puzzled expression, ‘last night when you pushed forward in the tower stairwell…how did you do that?’ He stared hard into Howie’s face watching the sudden dark look creep into his eyes, that power, that hard stare.
‘I don’t know mate,’ Howie replied suddenly with a wry smile, ‘it just sort of happens.’
‘Happens?’ What you mean you’ve done that before?’ Tom asked. He, along with the rest, stood and watched in rapture as Howie took the front position during the desperate battle to hold the stairs. When they were being beaten back and losing more ground than ever before Howie changed. His whole manner and being became fluid. Not like Dave, the way he moves like a dancer with grace and agility, but something else. A power poured from Howie and it was like the undead just fell before him. Every strike was where it should have been. Every step saw them wilt and fall away from him. An electric feeling passed through all of them and Tom felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Witnessing something extraordinary.
‘Ha! You can tell you’re a copper Tom,’ Howie smiled awkwardly, ‘I don’t know mate. It just happens. Right, there must be some coffee round here somewhere, fancy one mate?’ Howie deflected the question and his easy smile meant no offence was taken. The rules had changed and whereas just a few days ago Tom would have stood his ground and questioned the man regarding his ability, now he was just glad to be with him. Glad to be with all of them. What he saw during that night was a unity that even the police never matched. The way they watched each other, pulling each other back and covering the weak points. Tom heard them say they were used to fighting alongside each other and now he understands what that means. The easy jokes, the banter and the ready smiles they keep flashing even when they were so massively outnumbered. Dave, the small quiet man that Tom and Steven already held in awe taking on the role of sergeant to Howie’s officer. Blowers like a corporal, stepping in to take the lead whenever needed.