by RR Haywood
Taking his bundle of wet clothes he walked back down the stairs hoping the woman won’t be offended at him washing his clothes and using her gown. Maybe he should have asked first?
‘Say Lucy, I hope you don’t mind but I rinsed my clothes out,’ he called ahead.
‘That’s okay, you looked a state…’ she stopped dead at seeing his hulking frame squeezed into her gown, a mixed look of confusion and humour etching onto her face.
‘Er…it’s all I could find,’ he lifted his eyebrows apologetically.
‘No, that’s fine,’ she replied with a widening smile, ‘I don’t think I’ll have anything that fits you.’
‘These should dry quickly, can I put them somewhere?’
‘Yeah, here let me,’ she stepped forward taking the clothes from him and glancing at his heavily muscled chest. He noticed the look and smiled shyly, making a point of holding his head down so he could look up at her, knowing this particular look made him look sweet and vulnerable.
‘Did you find everything you needed? I’ve got a spare toothbrush if you want it? It’s new, still packed and everything.’ She turned away cursing herself for getting caught looking at his chest like that. Being a buxom woman she knew what it felt like when men stared directly at her boobs and not her face and she’d effectively just done the same thing. Shit, she might as well have stared at his groin.
‘Say that’ll be great Lucy,’ he replied sincerely, ‘I used the flannel and shower crème, I rinsed it out though,’ he added quickly.
‘I’ve made you a coffee, thought we’d better make use while the power’s still on.’
‘Great! Er…you think the power will go soon?’
‘No doubt about it Paco, if the phones are down, the telly stations and radio stations are off so we’ve got whatever is left in the pipe I should think.’
‘The pipe?’ He asked puzzled.
‘Figure of speech, whatever juice is left flowing from the power stations…that’s all we’ve got. They’ll have shut down fail-safes with no personnel in them; I should think it’ll be today or tomorrow at the latest.’
‘Goddamn,’ he sighed, ‘what then?’ He asked following her through the kitchen and out the back door to watch as she pinned his clothes on a washing line.
‘Then?’ She replied without looking, ‘we’ll be without power,’ she shrugged.
‘What….well what’ll we do?’ He asked feeling the panic rising again and desperately trying to swallow it down.
‘Do?’ She said, repeating his last word back to him again, ‘cope I guess. There’s a wood stove here and enough food for a couple of days. The water supply doesn’t rely on power so that will last a lot longer. The only problem I can foresee with that is if it gets infected.’
‘Infected?’ He stared at her back in horror.
‘Yeah, if those things get into the water supply then it will get infected. It’s mostly a closed system but there will be points that people can fall in or get into it.’
‘Jesus,’ he muttered, ‘no power, no water…’
‘Nope. Back in the dark ages but worse.’
‘Worse? How can it be worse?’
‘Zombies Paco, lots of zombies everywhere. Lots of scared people too, lots of guns and weapons and millions of people not having a clue how to survive without a microwave or oven.’
‘Zombies? Seriously…you think those things are zombies?’
‘What else would you call them?’
‘Hell I don’t know, terrorists or…diseased, or crazed savages but not zombies.’
‘You say you saw them attacking other people? On your movie set right?’
‘Well yeah but…’
‘How were they attacking them Paco?’
‘Well yeah but…’ he repeated.
‘They were biting the other people weren’t they? They were biting them and then trying to find more people to bite. And the ones that got bit, did they stay dead? No, I bet they didn’t.’
‘Lucy come on! Zombies? This is the twentieth century…’
‘It’s the twenty first century,’ she said with a glance, ‘call them what you want but I call a spade a spade.’
‘Hey that’s racist,’ Paco replied quickly. Lucy stopped mid-stretch as she was about to pin his last trouser leg in place, shaking her head and not quite believing what she just heard.’
‘No. The word spade used in an abusive term is racist; otherwise the word spade refers to the implement used to dig. The racist term dates from the 1920’s, the original phrase of the saying dates from something like the fifteenth century.’
‘Oh…’
‘But anyway, whether you want to call them zombies or not is up to you, but either way I’d suggest they want to eat your flesh and make you one of them.’
‘That’s gross,’ he shuddered, looking ridiculous stood there in the flimsy gown and having to hold it closed or risk showing his bits off.
‘Reality,’ she said brusquely.
‘How do you know these things?’ He asked meekly.
‘How does anyone know things, they listen and take things in. I read books, watch documentaries…I don’t know…I just kind of know.’
‘Sure,’ he realised how weak he was coming across and made of point of standing straight and affecting a serious, slightly hard look, which wasn’t easily passed off in the feminine gown.
‘Let’s get that coffee before it gets cold. I didn’t sugar it, I guessed with a body like that you wouldn’t pollute it with sugar. Wasn’t sure about milk either but we’ve only got powdered milk anyway.’
‘Black is fine,’ he said quickly following her back into the kitchen and feeling a bit better at the body like that compliment.
Inside the kitchen she handed the coffee over and sat down in a wooden hard backed chair at the table. Going to sit down too he realised that everything would be on show and quickly stood back up to back away and lean casually against the side.
‘So you’re here alone then?’ He asked carefully, not trying to sound threatening in anyway but wanting to know her circumstances.
‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘I bought this place a few months ago. I worked in the city but had enough so I bought this to do up and live peacefully. Only moved in a few weeks ago, hadn’t even started doing anything yet. So much for that great plan.’
‘What did you do? In the city I mean?’
‘Finance, it was a shitty job in a shitty world full of shitty people that were greedy, I hated the city, hated just about everything. Figured the change would be good.’
‘I think it might have just saved your life, I mean if this is everywhere then the cities will be far worse than here.’
‘True, that’s what I’ve been saying to myself since yesterday anyway.’
‘Family?’ He asked and instantly regretted it seeing the dark look cross her face.
‘Of course,’ she replied flatly, ‘and you?’
‘In the States. Parents, brother…cousins…’ his voice trailed off as he sought to absorb everything that was happening.
‘It might get better,’ she said kindly on seeing the emotions in him, ‘you never know.’
‘Guess so,’ he said quietly, ‘not likely though huh?’
‘Not really,’ she shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee and sighing.
‘Is it okay me being here? I mean I was worried about the night coming and being outdoors with those things everywhere.’
‘Well you’re here aren’t you?’
‘I just didn’t want you to feel threatened by me.’
‘Threatened? Of what? Are you going to rape me Paco? The shotgun is over there and it doesn’t have any bullets anyway. I only grabbed it for show.’
‘Rape you? God no Lucy, I wouldn’t ever do something like that,’ he spluttered.
‘Slow down big guy, I wasn’t saying you were going to rape me. Only that there isn’t much I could do about it if you wanted to. Look at the size of you.’
‘What?’ He said s
truggling to keep up with the logic and how they got onto this subject, ‘no Lucy I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Yeah you just said that,’ she replied staring at him, ‘well if you do feel like raping me then just ask, I’ll probably give it to you willingly if it saves you beating me. Unless you’re into beating women as well as raping them.’
‘Hey can we stop this, I don’t rape anyone. I’m not doing anything. Hang on…did you just say you wanted to have sex with me?’ He asked.
‘I said no such thing,’ she protested.
‘You said you’d give it willingly,’ he said with a frown and rubbed his head with his palm. The stress was too much. He was alone in a country he didn’t really understand, with no way of getting home and was now in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with a beautiful but strange woman talking about rape and beating.
‘I said…’ She explained, ‘that if you want to rape me then just ask, I’ll let you do it so you don’t beat me.’
‘Let me? Beat you? Lucy I…I don’t want to rape or beat anyone, can we change the subject please.’
‘Alright tetchy,’ she sighed and shook her head, tutting noisily, ‘honestly some people,’ she muttered.
‘Great coffee,’ he said to change the subject, feeling very creeped out.
‘Glad you like it,’ she smiled suddenly, ‘you making the next one? We might as well before the power goes.’
‘Er…yeah sure, I can do that,’ he replied, ‘er…how?’
‘The kettle is filled just switch it on and fill the cups. The coffee is in that jar.’ He took her coffee mug from her outstretched hand and turned to figure his way through making instant coffee with a kettle for the first time in years.
Lucy watched his form as he worked, admiring his deeply bronzed and toned calf muscles and the shape of his narrow waist spreading up and out to his wide shoulders.
Should be an interesting night she mused to herself.
EIGHT
DAY TWO
She destroyed the first one quickly. Tearing its throat out and leaving the body still teetering on the spot as she landed amongst them. She bit into legs, shredding hamstrings and Achilles tendons and making the things fall to the ground. She jumped high and used her weight to drag the bodies to the ground and rip them apart.
She had to move fast. They were still heading towards the den. She worked with devastating speed and accuracy. Shredding their flesh and bringing them down. She knew she could disable them and make them go slower and then have time after to finish them off.
Snarls and deep growls filled the air, along with thumps after thump of bodies slamming into the ground and the dog jumping deftly away to find another victim.
The pack from the left were dealt with and she span round, cocking her head and listening to the drumming footsteps of the horde coming from the other direction. With a final savage bite at a crawling thing she moved off. Once more going low and becoming a streak of flattened ears and dark fur.
She caught them yards from the entrance to the den, more here than the last lot. They were frenzied and again she sensed the energy in them, the hunger, the desire to feed. She fought her way through their legs, lashing her big head left and right and biting deep into the backs of legs, shaking with each bite and tugging the bodies down.
The things were stumbling and tripping over their fallen kind. It slowed them down but it made her faster as she used the downed bodies as stepping stones to gain height to leap from. It worked well and added another tactic to her rapidly evolving method of killing.
Pure instinct drove her on. Kill after kill and as fast as they poured into the street they died. They didn’t turn or try and attack her but instead sensed the feeding frenzy of the horde that there was food here. That incessant urge to feed, to bite and tear human flesh pushed them on.
The mother sat holding her sleeping baby with her free arm pushing the small boy’s head into her stomach to block the sounds of death coming through the still open window. Tears streaked her face as she prayed over and over again that the dog would stay alive and defend them. She heard the growls, the snarls and the barks. She heard the thumps as the bodies hit the ground and she heard the wet tearing sound followed by the gurgling as blood poured into the open windpipes of the downed things.
The dog was alive. With a beating heart that pumped blood to her muscles and made her lungs suck air in. The night was hot but the sun was down and she took what opportunity she could to take water from the bucket. Her eyes fixed on the path, daring the things to enter her ground.
For every one that entered the street she made noise and urged them to see what she had done, see her destruction and come at their peril. She would not give up. She would not sleep or rest while these things came for the little ones in this den. For if they took these little ones they would find her little one, and for that she would kill them all or die trying.
All across the land, the country, the continent and the world brave men and women stood their ground and defended what was theirs. They defended their lives, their families; they took revenge for the ones they had lost. They chose not to run or flee but to stand the line and stare down the horror that came for them. The cost of freedom, to live how they chose, to die how they chose. With weapons and fighting with their bare hands, teeth snarling, eyes alive, anger coursing their systems they stood their ground and defended their packs.
She fought with pride and courage. A beast of strength and speed and with a mouth full of vicious teeth.
She stood her ground, and she didn’t fail.
NINE
DAY ELEVEN
‘Blowers and Cookey, you get the Saxon back down here and kitted up, show Tom and Lani round it so they’re familiar. Dave will give you a hand to get the GPMG rigged up again,’ in the main room of our quarters early morning and the sunlight is pouring through the open door. The few hours of solid sleep have refreshed all of us.
Lani had woken up before me and was out of the room by the time I stirred and roused my sleepy head, staggering out to find her brewing a load of coffee’s up and she greeted me with a big smile.
Our privacy was short lived as we were joined by Blowers and Cookey. Cookey moaning noisily at the smell of Blowers’ farts. Their noise soon woke the others and they drifted into the room scratching arses and yawning. Apart from Dave who looked as alert as ever, that man doesn’t change.
With muted tones we drank the coffee and Nick soon excused himself to head outside for a smoke and was quickly joined by the other lads. The sight of the sunlight drew us all outside and we stood about sipping from our mugs and looking at the inside of the fort.
Big Chris has worked fast. The interior had been damaged from the big battle, fires breaking out from the flaming bodies and debris sent over the walls from the housing estate going up. Many of the tents had been damaged but he’s had them pulled down and new ones erected.
There are far less people here now, the losses we suffered from the fight has reduced the numbers drastically. But that gives more space and I can see he’s kept to the method of keeping clusters of tents together around one structure used for cooking. The guest centre still stands in the middle and I wonder if there have been any changes made to that.
People move about quietly between the tents, children cry out, small groups stand talking. Soft plumes of smoke rising up from the cigarettes smoked. Moving away from the side of the fort I look up to the front walls and the Saxon still left in the same position we left it in. The memory of Tucker bringing the trays of food fills my mind, the last meal we all ate together, sat up there waiting for it to start.
Guards patrol now, armed with shotguns, rifles and several of the archers patrol with their bows held ready in their hands.
Re-fuelled with coffee we get ready for the coming day. All of us were worried about what the future held, if we would stay together, and for us – coming back to the fort was like the end for us. But in reality we had a short sharp shock as Doc Roberts made it cl
ear we were needed to get urgent supplies. This isn’t the end. Jesus, there will be something to do every day from now. This will never end.
‘Howie, we’re having a meeting in the police rooms in ten minutes,’ Chris says walking towards us.
‘And good morning to you too Chris,’ Clarence mutters.
‘Ah what’s up? Has the big man not had his eggs and soldiers this morning?’ Chris laughs.
‘Have we got eggs?’ Nick asks quickly, ‘I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving,’ I reply, ‘what’s the meeting about? I thought we were heading straight out for supplies.’
‘That’s what the meetings about; hey this is the modern world. Nothing gets done without a meeting, bring a bean bag so we can sit round in a circle and hold hands,’ he laughs striding off.
‘We don’t all have to go, do we?’ Cookey asks, ‘we’ll get the Saxon and our stuff ready.’
‘Yeah, makes sense. Dave and Clarence, you come with me, the rest crack on.’
‘Thank god for that,’ Cookey replies with a smile of victory.
‘Or maybe you should go and the rest of us will get the Saxon ready,’ I say with a smile.
‘Oh no Mr Howie, they need the bosses not the grunts,’ Cookey jokes.
‘Grunts!’ I laugh at the expression.
Leaving the lads and Lani to sort everything out, the three of us stroll down the camp towards the police offices.
‘It’s funny how we have to have names for things, like the rooms where the police officers worked from, they’re now the police offices, like we still have a police force…or offices for that matter,’ I give voice to my thoughts as we walk slowly along. People are waking up now, stepping out of their tents and watching us as we walk through.
‘Human nature,’ Clarence replies.
‘Dave you alright mate? You’re very quiet this morning.’
‘I’m fine Mr Howie,’ he replies staring back into the middle of the fort and the now large crowds of people watching us walk through.