The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  Every street has signs of her battles. Every corpse has her teeth marks on them. She patrols and still feels the sense of loss from her pack being gone.

  She’s met other people here and there, skulking through the roads during the daytime, packs together and single ones trying to escape. When she sees them she makes noise and runs. But now the people panic and run away from her. They throw things and make loud noise.

  She senses their fear and wags her tail to show she’s happy, not aggressive. They don’t see the signs and keep her at bay. She senses these packs don’t want her and keeps her distance.

  The dog picks out where the dens are that still have people inside, they don’t show themselves but she can smell them.

  By late afternoon on the sixth day she’s following a new scent trail that clings to the ground. Someone moving through here just a short time ago. The path she follows is jerky, seemingly going left and right between the big things left on the road. The scent smells of the living but there is a strong smell of fear here too. Fear and terror that pours from the trail. It must be a little one. Only a little one would leave a trail of fear like this.

  A little one alone in the open. She follows the trail weaving back and forth across the street. The trail leads to the entrance doors of the dens but never goes across the threshold. It swerves and deviates between the big things.

  Closer now, the smell is stronger, fresher and not yet contaminated by the overriding stench of death and decay.

  She pauses and feels the sudden change in air pressure. The sky darkens with thick cloud. Fat drops of water splatter the ground and she looks up as a torrential downpour commences.

  Within seconds her coat is soaked and surface water is running everywhere. She laps at the fresh sweet tasting water and savours the cooling effect of the liquid soaking her fur. Dropping her nose she can just make the scent trail out and starts off trying to follow it but loses it when the water becomes too powerful and washes all grounds smells away.

  Sheets of rain lash the road, drumming on the cars and vehicles as the dog shakes her body, sending thick splatters of rain high up and to the sides. The sky is grey and overcast, the heat gone for just a few minutes.

  The little one must be here somewhere. The scent trail was recent and judging by the erratic route already taken it could be just a little further ahead.

  Her sense of smell is ruined for a short time, hearing diminished too from the percussion of raindrops all around. Left with just eye sight she moves on, moving over to walk down the middle of the road. Her eyes are not as sharp or clear as humans but they are excellent motion detectors. The predator using her nose to find the smell, then her ears to find the direction and finally her eyes to look for flight of the prey.

  She pushes on, pausing every few minutes to lap at the water and shake her coat. At the end of the road she holds still, waiting in the middle of the junction and looking down each side in turn. The cadavers left here are pelted with rain. The congealed and dried blood loosens from the incessant action of the raindrops causing little pink streams and tributaries to flow along.

  She sits down in the flowing water and waits. Checking each side and looking for any signs of where the little one went.

  NINETEEN

  DAY SIX

  ‘Damn that’s a big dog,’ Paco mutters to himself. A trait he has developed after spending the last few days alone. After seeing Lucy stood outside he panicked and ran screaming down the stairs. Such was the fear and tension that exploded from him and warped his mind he ran straight out of the front door and froze on the spot at the sight of them all. They must have been moving all night to have got there so quickly.

  Paco simply ran away. Not taking into account their slow daytime shuffle or stopping to get supplies. He ran. Round the back of the house and deep into the woods. He kept running. Fear driving him. Terror propelling his legs. Panic pumping his lungs and heart. Without sleeping all night he still maintained a steady few miles before slowing to a fast walk and getting his breathing back under control.

  After that he kept moving, not wanting to stay anywhere for more than a few hours. He kept to the woods for the rest of that day, drinking water from streams and refusing to listen to his starving stomach.

  By evening he realised he had a choice of staying in the open or finding somewhere to hole up. But both options presented terrifying scenarios that whipped up gruesome images in his mind. Out in the open where they could get to him with ease, or somewhere inside where he could get trapped.

  By dusk he was on the outskirts of a town, watching fields give way to streets and roads and the rural slowly change to the suburban and then the urban. Finding some shops on the main town access road he hunkered down and watched the front for any movement. He needed food, any food. Having not eaten the previous day or during the night and after the many hours of nervous energy, staying awake and then running all day he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep going without sustenance.

  The shops looked looted, windows smashed and doors ripped off. He edged closer and closer, moving between abandoned vehicles and dropping down every few metres to listen and watch. Finally satisfied he sprinted the last few metres to the first door and crept inside.

  The floor was littered with debris but fortunately no blood or monsters. Rummaging through the litter he found a bottle of cola, a few chocolate bars and bags of potato chips. Scooping them up he retreated to a corner and with both eyes fixed in the front door he devoured it all within a couple of minutes.

  The sugary drink felt wonderful and he felt his limbs shaking from the rush of quick fix energy. He checked along the floor and quickly peered under the shelving units, finding more bottles of fizzy drink and junk food. Snatching them up he ran outside, not wanting to push his luck too far and risk getting trapped.

  Round the back of the shops he found a long row of flat roofed garages and lock up units. A ladder lying on its side propped against a wall. He took the ladder and used it to climb onto the concrete roof of the garages, pulling the ladder up behind him. He skirted the edge, checking all the sides were too high for anyone to jump or climb up without using something. It was the best he could do so he went to the front and lay down behind the low wall. The rest of the food was gone quickly and he lay stretched out on his back, knowing he couldn’t be seen from the ground.

  It took less than ten minutes for his eyes to start drooping, and another five minutes before he submitted to the lure of sleep.

  As the night fell properly he heard the howls for the first time. The song of the undead as they faced the moon and roared their hunger out. Coming awake instantly with wide eyes he felt the hairs on his arms and neck standing up. The howls were coming from every direction but none of them were that close. They went on for ages, freezing his stomach and sending his blood pounding through his ears. When they ended suddenly he stayed completely stock still, repeating the prayers he practised so well the night before. With his lips moving silently his heart rate gradually slowed down to a steady rhythm and once more his eyes fell closed.

  Since then he’d kept moving during the day, not knowing where he was going and finding different places to hide. He rested for only a few hours at a time, believing that if stayed anywhere for longer than that the monsters would find him.

  In his mind Lucy was stalking him with the pitchfork monster. They led a horde of monsters intent on finding him and devouring his living flesh. Revenge for leaving her trapped and causing her death.

  Because of that very fact, that Lucy had become trapped so easily, he avoided going in any houses unless he was either absolutely desperate for water or food and there was no other choice. Even then, the very houses he did enter were checked quickly, food and drink was snatched up and taken somewhere else to consume.

  Six days in and when he felt the first drops of rain he smiled for the first time in days. Beautiful, life giving fresh clean water pouring from the sky. He stopped moving for a few minutes and stood with his face
turned up, savouring the feeling of the cool water drenching his face. Mouth open and drinking it down, he scrubbed at his face feeling the grease and grime that coated his skin.

  Then he saw the dog walking out of the junction a couple of hundred metres away. He hunkered down quickly, using a car to shield him from view. He tried using the windows to peer through but the rain was cascading down them and obscuring his view.

  ‘What you doin’ boy?’ He murmured to himself poking his head round the corner and glimpsing the dog just sat there. The rain was sheeting down, reducing visibility. With his heart hammering in fright at the size of the beast and the way it was just sat there looking up and down the road. Was it tracking him? Looking for a tasty meal? The thought suddenly hit him making his stomach drop and his blood run cold. A monster dog. It was a monster dog searching for him. Lucy and the pitchfork man must be following it somewhere. Shit! How did he let them get so close?

  The sight of all the bodies had already unnerved him, corpses littering every street and road. Body after body with their throats ripped out, blood, gore, bits of flesh everywhere. He’d only ventured this far into the town to look for more food and he terrified himself with images of whatever had done this amount of killing. But all the dead bodies were monsters; he could see that much was clear from the open eyes staring out lifeless but still red and bloodshot and their mouths covered in blood and old festering wounds.

  He had to move now and use the noise of the rain to cover his retreat. If it stopped raining the dog would find him easily. Moving backwards he crept along the side of the next car, feeling with his hands for the end of the vehicle and quickly tucking in behind it.

  Eyes fixed up the street where the dog was still sat he retreated one car length at a time, beating a hasty withdrawal. Clothes sodden and clinging to his frame, the muscles of his arms bulging against the wet material, his shoulders flexed as he stretched his arm back feeling for the end of the car, his big thighs tensed from holding a crouched position.

  He was getting further away, just a bit further and he could turn and run. Find somewhere to hide and wait for the dog to go. It might not be able to track him with all this water on the ground.

  Easing round the front of the next car he kept his left arm flexed back, feeling along the metal side. Past the first door and he felt for the rubber edging of the window on the next door. Sliding his hand along the smooth glass and feeling the edge. Now the rear panel and he lowered his hand to gently rub along the side as it curved in. He was there, at the back of the next car. One more to go and he could run. The rain was still coming down with such fury that he couldn’t see the end of the street where the dog was but prayed that it wouldn’t come bounding towards him.

  Creeping back with his hand still stretched out he groped and made small circular motions, feeling for the next vehicle. His fingertips brushed something, he moved back and extended his hand. With his focus firmly on the road he failed to register the soft yielding nature of the thing he was groping.

  Eyes suddenly wide, mouth dropping open he twisted his upper body slowly round, his hand still pressing against the softness. It moved and he yelped, staggering out into the street and tripping over a corpse. Sprawled out he stared back in utter horror at the monster shuffling towards him. The red eyes clear through the rain and blood washed from its face to reveal sunken cheeks and pale dirty yellowing skin.

  Whimpering in alarm Paco crabbed backwards, his hands groping and plunging into the decaying chest of another corpse. He scrabbled his feet which slipped on the wet surface. Bringing his hand up he looked in horror at the entrails hanging from his fingers. Screaming he backed away, hands and feet whirling like crazy but his body refused to work in harmony, the monster kept coming. Lips pulled back to show filthy teeth and the drooling saliva pouring out to mix with the water cascading down its face.

  Paco crabbed and slithered, tripping over more bodies and landing heavily. Screaming in terror, this was it, this was the end. The monster had him. The head was lowering, the upper body bending as it prepared for the final lunge that would see his flesh stripped from his body.

  Frozen in the grip of fear he clenched his eyes shut and gave a final prayer. The monster barked and snarled and came at him with a drumming noise. The drums of death coming for him. The monster barked again, louder and closer. Paco opened his eyes as the dog sprinted through the sheeting rain, puddles splashing as its feet pounded over the road. The monster came in for the lunge and was gone. A flash of black and was Paco staring up at the grey sky.

  A ferocious snarling snapped him back, the dog had the thing between its teeth ragging it up and down the street. Gripping the neck and shaking with violent fury. Paco sat there mesmerised at the power of the beast, the strength it had was awesome, flinging the monster about like a rag doll. The dog ripped the throat out and sank its teeth back into the wound, gnashing and tearing with almighty snarls emanating from its throat.

  The dog stepped back and stared down at the corpse of the monster as though willing it get back up and try again. It stepped back again and shook its head, sending bloodied water spraying off in all directions. Then it turned its huge head and fixed its gaze on Paco. Soft beautiful brown eyes surrounded by black hair with flecks of brown. White teeth clear from its open mouth, long pink tongue hanging out.

  The dog padded slowly towards Paco who remained frozen to the spot on his arse with his hands holding his upper body up, legs slightly bent. He might be fit but even he couldn’t outrun a dog and the animal was huge with a thick coat, long legs and solid shoulders. Its big head was held high, it paused to drop down and lap at the puddled water then kept coming.

  He’d survived the monster to die from a dog. Paco Maguire, the world’s most successful action movie star, survivor of Armageddon, killed by a wild dog in some shitty English street. Only there would be no one to report this, no worldwide press coverage or people rushing out to buy his movies. No star on Hollywood Boulevard. No one would miss him. Dying alone and forgotten. He missed home, he missed his family. Tears poured from his eyes as he gave a final prayer. The dog was so close now. Moving slowly and willing its prey to run or do something. But Paco couldn’t move, the fear crippled him.

  The rain was coming down like arrows, straight from the sky to the ground but behind the dog there was water flying up to the left and right. His eyes stared at the phenomenon as his brain slowly registered that the dog was wagging its tail. The black bushy tail was moving from side to side, definitely wagging. Was that something they did before a kill? He thought back to the nature programmes he’d watched but couldn’t recall ever seeing anything like it. It must be happy to have found a nice juicy meal.

  The dog stopped moving. They locked eyes. Paco on his arse in the pouring rain and the dog stood within arm’s reach staring across at him. Seconds passed. Neither of them moved, apart from the tail which wagged slowly.

  The dog sat down and Paco looked down its belly at the lack of male genitalia.

  ‘A girl?’ he muttered to himself, ‘you’re a girl dog.’ The dog’s ears pricked and rotated forward. They stared at each other. It didn’t look like it was about to eat him.

  ‘Hi,’ Paco whispered so quietly but the dog’s ears pricked again and it stared hard at him. ‘Good girl,’ Paco tried the ultimate dog greeting and watched as the animal cocked its head to one side, the tail moving decidedly faster now.

  ‘Good girl,’ Paco said it again, louder this time and got the same reaction. It was sure not looking like it was about to rip his throat out, but those teeth…they were so big and sharp.

  The dog whimpered and edged closer, dipping her head. She lowered down onto her tummy and whined again, edging closer, tail still going.

  ‘Good girl,’ Paco repeated and watched as the dog whined again and shuffled closer almost touching him. He stared at the dogs face, at her pleading brown eyes, she whined again softly.

  He gently lifted his arm from behind him and brought it across his
chest. The fingers stretched out and ever so slowly moving towards the dog’s head. It saw the movement and shuffled closer, its paws now brushing the side of his leg.

  Holding his breath and expecting the dog to lunge and remove his fingers before leaping to rip his throat out. His heart still hammering, thud thud thud in his chest. The world stopped spinning, time froze. Everything became still as his fingertips brushed the dogs face. It didn’t savage him but stayed still. He brushed again, firmer this time, still it didn’t attack him. He pressed his palm onto the top of the dog’s broad head and stroked along its soft wet fur. The tail wagged faster and she whined again.

  ‘Good girl!’ Paco said. The dog lifted up quickly and pushed into him, rubbing her head against his chest, whining in soft tones. ‘Hey beautiful,’ Paco muttered and rubbed the dog’s head harder, bringing his other hand up to stroke along her back. It was too much for Paco, too surreal. He laughed loud and hugged the dog, holding her soaking wet body close. She didn’t pull away but lowered down until her upper body was resting on his legs, her head thrown up as he stroked her soft muzzle. She pushed into him harder, her weight and strength knocking him back onto the ground. He laughed with delight as the dog stood over him and started licking his neck and ears. He ruffled her fur, stroked her ears and laughed with abandoned glee.

  She whined louder and moved round him, taking care not to tread on his body. He laughing, her with tail going crazy and they relished in the first contact that either of them had experienced in days.

  Paco rubbed her shoulders, feeling the solid muscle packed in, he rubbed her tummy and stroked her thick neck. She moved to the side, dropping down as he bent over her. Laughing and fussing her. She rolled onto her side, letting him rub her tummy and boxing out with her paws. Paco got to his feet, took two steps back and patted his thighs. She responded instantly, jumping up and walking quickly towards him, holding a paw out and whining. Laughter came from his throat as he bent over and fussed her again. She snaked round his legs, weaving round his body and pressing herself against him.