The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Brilliant Lani,’ Blowers laughs at Cookey’s impression.

  ‘Mr Howie, can we have Missy Elliott for our theme song?’

  ‘I like it,’ I laugh at the thought of playing it through the sound system, ‘Dave, Clarence?’

  ‘I’m sticking with Wagner,’ Clarence replies.

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘I don’t know it,’ he says.

  ‘What? How can you not know it?’ Lani says.

  ‘I don’t know it, how does it go?’ He asks and I get the sudden impression just from his voice that he does know it.

  Cookey immediately launches into the opening music with loud dum de dums, the others join in noisily. Dave knows exactly what he’s doing. They’re wound up tight and need a release, he was mindful of the other people in the fort but then Dave is never normally mindful of other people. Respect and professionalism. That’s what he thinks about. Us playing about in front of others, it’s not about those people feeling sad; it’s about the lads not acting the part. But here, he can get them to release in the safety of the vehicle. That bloke is switched on, very switched on.

  ‘Mr Howie, we need a CD player and a CD so I can rig it up,’ Nick calls out.

  ‘I got it on my IPod,’ Lani says.

  ‘You can’t rig and IPod to the sound system,’ Cookey says.

  ‘Bet I bloody can,’ Nick replies already opening his new tool bag.

  ‘This will be interesting,’ I say quietly to a grinning Clarence.

  THIRTEEN

  DAY THREE

  ‘You go and I’ll keep watch, if anything happens I’ll sound the horn, okay?’ Lucy asks from behind the steering wheel. Paco leans forward and stares at the first cottage, remembering the old woman he found inside. Despite his protests Lucy insisted on trying the village first and they drove in to find the main street deserted.

  ‘But…’ Paco thinks furiously, not wanting to come across like a complete coward but dreading the thought of going back inside the houses.

  ‘But what?’ Lucy asks staring at his chiselled features. They had slept late, the fear and exhaustion of the previous days dragging Paco down into a deep and troubled sleep. On waking they found the power was still on and sat quietly chatting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating the food from the freezer.

  Nothing about the previous night was mentioned. Lucy was as straight talking as before with no reference to her breasts or him being a bad boy. Paco went along with it, content to just be in someone else’s company, and someone who was intelligent and as self-assured as Lucy.

  ‘Say, I was just thinking that if they turn up out here I could hold them off, that would be safer than maybe one inside the house,’ he offers knowing it’s an awful suggestion but he put it across with lustre and meaning.

  ‘Yeah, that does make sense,’ she replies biting her bottom lip and staring out of the windscreen, ‘yeah, okay then I’ll go in the first house and you keep watch, sound the horn if any of them turn up.’

  ‘Yeah sure,’ he nods, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. She climbs out of the small blue car, making her way slowly to the first cottage. Paco steps out and stands scanning up and down the street. She turns back on reaching the door and gives him a thumbs up; he returns the gesture as she disappears from view.

  Alone with the car he is tempted to drive off and find somewhere else, but he doesn’t know where to go, where to get fuel or even how to drive the funny little English car with the manual gear stick in the middle. No, he’d be better waiting for Lucy, she seems to know what she’s doing and the sex thing last night was weird as hell but painless. He can put up with that if it keeps him safe.

  Where did the monsters go? They were all in the street yesterday. Unless they followed him through the woods and were still on his trail. He glances round expecting them to be coming up behind him, but the view is clear. Just a sultry hot summer afternoon in a quaint little English village. Flowers in the gardens, white fences and stone built walls. Idyllic really. He hums nervously to himself, trying to fight the temptation to lock himself in the car or drive off. The feeling of panic was still there, of being unsafe with eyes watching him from every window. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes something bad. If this was a movie the camera would be panning out to show him stood in the empty street, no soundtrack or music playing, just quiet. Then it would happen. The monster would reveal itself behind him. He spins round expecting the worse and found the view the same as it was thirty seconds ago.

  ‘Hey I got some good stuff,’ Lucy calls, splitting the quiet with her monstrous voice.

  ‘Ssshh,’ he says fiercely waving his hands to quieten her. She freezes on the spot expecting there to be something nearby.

  ‘What is it?’ She whispers.

  ‘They’ll hear you yelling like that,’ he complains.

  ‘Oh for goodness sake Paco,’ she sighs, ‘I thought there was someone there. I got some tinned stuff, ham, cheese and some milk that hasn’t gone off.’

  ‘That’s great but will you stop shouting,’ he pleads.

  ‘Okay okay, keep your shirt on,’ she tuts, lifting the carrier bags into the boot and slamming it down making him wince visibly.

  ‘Oh god, they’ve heard us,’ he whimpers staring down the road at the sight of the geriatric horde shuffling into view from a junction. ‘We’d better go.’

  ‘Hang on,’ she stares down the road at them. She waits for long agonising seconds just staring at their slow movements, ‘Paco, they’re going to take at least half an hour to get here, look at the pace they’re going at. We’ll do another couple,’ she says brusquely walking off towards the next house.

  ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘They’re not running are they?’

  ‘Lucy! What if they start running?’

  ‘Sound the bloody horn then, I won’t be long,’ she walks quickly to the next cottage and pushes the door open, checking inside before disappearing from view. Paco stands transfixed at the site of the group hundreds of metres away. The slow jerky shuffle. They’re going to start running, they’re going to just let rip and sprint at me. They’ll get me, they’ll eat my flesh. Why was she taking so long? Couldn’t she see the danger they were in?

  Whimpering softly to himself he spins round checking all sides before looking back down the road at the barely moving horde. Christ they were getting close now.

  ‘See, we’ve got more food now,’ Lucy says holding more bulging carrier bags, ‘oh they haven’t even moved,’ she adds with a glance down the road.

  ‘They have, they’re getting closer. We really should go.’

  ‘No no, we’re alright for a minute,’ she says after loading the car up and walking off to the next house, ‘bring the car down for me.’

  The car? How was he meant to drive that thing? He stares with horror at the horde then down at the small car. He opens the driver’s door and clambers in, scratching round for the seat lever and yanking it back with a crunch. He stares at the dials and feels the unfamiliar three pedals under his feet.

  Staring at the group he twists the ignition causing the car to shoot forward a few feet with a violent lurch, he gives a gurgled scream at the sudden unexpected motion and gets ready to flee on foot then remembers the clutch, hold the clutch down.

  Pressing his left foot on the pedal he tries again and listens as the car fires up. The noise of the engine far too loud in the quiet street. He eases the clutch up and feels the car starting to move, he lifts too fast and the car shoots forward, stalling again.

  ‘Stupid mother fucker,’ he mutters and tries again, this time easing his left foot up while pushing his right down harder. The vehicle rolls forward a few metres, stopping outside the third house. He keeps the engine running and drums on the steering wheel, staring intently at the horde and praying they don’t start sprinting. Sighing with relief at the sight of Lucy exiting the cottage with more bulging plastic bags.

  ‘I love old people, they’ve always got loads
of tinned food. We got prunes here, that’ll help keep us regular.’

  ‘Great can we go now?’

  ‘What? They’re bloody miles away, just be patient and move the car down.’ She walks off again leaving his heart racing and the knot in his stomach getting tighter.

  Great. This is just great. I’m driving the car closer to the monsters while she looks for tinned prunes in some old ladies pantry. This is the last one. We’ve got to go. If they start running we’ll be in danger. He moved the car down to the next house and waited with baited breath until she came out carrying two large knives.

  ‘No food, but I found these, here you have one, it’ll make you feel better, right driver move on to the next one please,’ she commands after passing the long bladed kitchen knife through the window. He dumps it straight on the passenger seat vowing to never be close enough to need one.

  Fingers drumming, breathing shallow and sweat forming on his forehead he keeps a constant watch on the shuffling horde. They were close enough to see the gore on them now, the blood stained night clothes. In varying states of undress with ragged wounds clearly visible to the naked eye. Heads lolling as the feet shuffled in a straight legged walk. Drool pouring from mouths and he imagined the noises they would be making, groaning and snarling with venomous evil.

  ‘Say this is enough now Lucy,’ he snaps as she walks back to the car carrying more bags to dump in the back.

  ‘I think you might just be right my dear,’ she says looking at the approaching group of undead, ‘right, drive down to that junction,’ she adds climbing into the passenger seat. Paco eases the car forward, taking care with the weird pedals. He grinds up to second gear as they pass the horde, too busy watching them turn and stare with their red bloodshot eyes and saliva dripping mouths.

  ‘If you can’t find ‘em…grind ‘em,’ Lucy quips.

  ‘Who has a manual shift these days?’ he moans.

  ‘Hey, ease up and pull in here,’ she points to the side of the road, leaning over him and wagging her fingers.

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘We’ll start at this end now while the old biddies are shuffling round,’ she explains waiting to open the door as he coasts to a stop. Paco cranes his head round to look out the rear window at the horde as they slowly turn and start back down the road.

  ‘I think we’ve got enough, we should head back,’ he stares at her blue eyes, willing her to agree.

  ‘Nah, big man like you! You’ll eat all that lot within a couple of days and it’s mainly prunes and pilchards anyway. I’ll do these houses and you keep watch again,’ she replies cheerfully hopping out of the car and jogging round the front.

  Paco felt his stomach drop, the tension was too much. They needed to go and get back to the safety of the house. Being out here was inviting trouble. Sure, these monsters might be slow and doddery but what if some more came along? Faster ones with sharp teeth and clawed hands?

  He shivers at the macabre thoughts coursing through his mind, telling himself to keep calm, breathe deeply and just keep watch.

  ‘Paco, this door is locked, come and give it a kick for me,’ Lucy yells over. He spins round to find she hasn’t even got in the first house yet and is stood there rattling the front door.

  ‘Someone could be in there Lucy,’ He shouts back stretching his tall frame out from the car.

  ‘I don’t think so, it looks empty. I think the door just closed and locked.’

  ‘Lucy I don’t think we should do that, what if someone is inside and armed with a gun.’

  ‘A gun? This isn’t Los bloody Angeles Paco…who’d have a gun round here?’

  ‘You had a gun.’

  ‘Yeah but no bullets, besides the thing’s an antique and I doubt it would fire anyway.’

  ‘I just think…’

  ‘HELLO? ANYONE IN THERE?’ She bellows through the letterbox.

  ‘For the love of god what are you doing?’ He seethes; glancing round to check nothing was creeping up on him.

  ‘Checking if anyone is inside of course,’ she says as though it was the most obvious thing ever.

  ‘Well they’re not gonna answer you are they?’

  ‘Why not? I’d answer if another survivor was at my door, HELLO? I’VE GOT PACO MAGUIRE OUT HERE…’

  ‘Oh my,’ he groans rubbing his forehead.

  ‘Nope, no one home, come and give it a kick for me.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Come on, stop your bleating and kick this door in. You must have done it a hundred times in your movies.’

  ‘They’re prop doors, rigged to burst open. Not real doors,’ he moans walking through the gate.

  ‘Yeah well you’re still a big lad so come on, give it a whack for me.’

  ‘Jesus Mary and everything else!’ He mutters taking stock of the door. He takes a wide legged stance and eyes the middle section near the lock. Exploding out and ramming the door with the bottom of his shoe. It thuds and creaks but otherwise doesn’t move.

  ‘What was that? I could have kicked it harder,’ she berates him. He gives it another kick, harder but not hard enough.

  ‘Paco, if you don’t kick it properly I’ll get my bloody whip out!’ she snaps, making the first reference to last night’s activity. He sucks a breath in and slams his foot into the door, his powerful thighs driving the leg forward. The door wrenches open with a sound of splintering wood, destroying the lock and hanging limply from the hinges.

  ‘I did it!’ He stares in shock at the open doorway, ‘did you see that? I kicked the door in!’

  ‘Well done, now you keep watch.’

  ‘I did it! I kicked a real door in, a real wooden door. You know the prop guys always said you’d break your foot trying it for real.’

  ‘Did they?’ She shouts from somewhere inside the house.

  ‘Yeah for sure, they always said it was the quickest way to injure yourself and shouldn’t be done unless you had really strong knees and ankles.’

  ‘Well I guess that means you have strong knees and ankles then.’

  ‘Yeah I do!’ He shouts back and whoops for good measure then realises where he is and what they’re doing. Spinning round with a look of intense fear. At the end of the path he checks the progress of the horde and looks in every direction, cursing himself for being so stupid as to look away for even just a few minutes.

  The knot in his gut tightens into a hard ball, his hands shake and palms become sweaty. They going to kill me, they going to kill me in a horrific slow and painful way, eating me bit by bit while I scream and beg for mercy. I’m too good for this, too beautiful. I’m an actor, an artist who reflects life and gives pleasure to ordinary people, I make them feel good about themselves.

  Wringing his hands he switches his gaze between the horde and the cottage that Lucy went in. His foot taps nervously as he drops his arms and beats his fists against the side of his legs.

  ‘PACO!’ Lucy screams from inside the house, his stomach flips at the piercing scream that follows. He takes a step towards the house, stopping and almost crying with panic.

  ‘LUCY?’ He yells, glancing round at the horde then back to the house.

  ‘Paco,’ he looks up to see her opening an upstairs window, ‘there’s two of them here,’ she shouts.

  ‘What? Where?’ He stays rooted to the spot.

  ‘They were in a bedroom, they’re outside the door…do something!’

  ‘Do what? What can I do?’

  ‘Use the knife, there’s only two of them!’

  ‘I…But…’

  ‘There’s no weapons in here, I’m in a spare room. Just a bed and nothing else, she shouts looing round at the room behind her, ‘use the knife.’

  ‘Lucy…I can’t,’ he stammers.

  ‘Paco, just man up and use the bloody knife, you can’t leave me in here like this…that bloody lot are getting closer too.’ He spins round checking the hordes progress, they’re closer now.

  ‘Lucy…’ he backs away towards the car. The
thought of entering the house with the monsters, all red eyed and sharp teeth, clawed hands just waiting to tear his flesh open. It’s too much, the fear consumes him. Utter terrifying fear that grips his stomach and makes his legs shake.

  ‘Paco, get the bloody knife and get up here,’ she commands turning to look back in the room, ‘they’re at the bloody door Paco, they’re trying to get in…’

  ‘Lucy, I’m so sorry...I…I just can’t,’ he sobs.

  ‘Paco for god’s sake man up and get in here!’

  ‘I just can’t,’ tears stream down his face as he moves to the car, feeling for the open driver’s door and glancing round at the group. They’re so close now and the blood looks stark against their pale skin, the wounds festering with bits of skin flapping open.

  ‘Paco…’ she shouts in a warning voice, ‘don’t you fucking leave me…give me a knife, get me a weapon…Paco, this room is empty, my knife is downstairs…I can’t fight them with my bare hands.’

  Crying hard he climbs into the car and starts the engine, firing it up and grinding through the gears in a muddled attempt at finding first.

  ‘Paco…please…fucking don’t do this Paco…I took you in…’ her voice is desperate, she can see exactly what he’s doing, the state he’s in and the panic showing from his body language.

  ‘Lucy,’ he sobs staring up at her through the open window. He hears the first low groan from the horde several metres back from the car and it sets him off with a yelp, slamming his foot down on the pedal and tyre spinning away, leaving Lucy leaning out the window and screaming after him.

  ‘DON’T YOU LEAVE ME HERE…I SWEAR I’LL FIND YOU PACO MAGUIRE…DON’T LEAVE ME…I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN….’

  Through tear filled misted eyes he watches the rear view mirror, watching Lucy leaning out the window and waving her arms at the retreating car. Loud sobs wrack his body, his chest heaves as he beats the steering wheel and dashboard.

  FOURTEEN

  DAY THREE

  She needs rest. The night’s constant exertions have exhausted her muscles and left her weary. Sleeping in the bushes stretched out she slowly recovers. Waking every so often to shift position and pant the heat of the day away. The dog stretches her limbs out regularly, straightening her legs and groaning softly at the pleasure it gives.