The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  The rest of us hold back a little as Dave and Lani move towards the main doors. I signal to the van drivers to stay put, Pete’s in the first van and waves back, acknowledging my request.

  We climb through the debris, kicking bits of metal framework out of the way. Once inside we can see the place has been emptied and left in a complete mess. We walk down the main central aisle peering down each secondary aisle. The food has all gone; just the toiletries section has any stock left.

  ‘Dave, you check the back store room…Howie to Pete, you receiving me?’

  ‘Pete to Mr Howie, loud and clear.’

  ‘Food has all gone, just some bits left in the toiletries section, we might as well have it…there’s some nappies and baby stuff here.’

  ‘Yep, we’ll get some people in now.’

  ‘Not much blood,’ Tom remarks, ‘no bodies inside either.’

  ‘It’s not a twenty four hours store so it would have been closed when it happened,’ I wipe my sweating hand down my trouser leg as Dave walks back towards us with Blowers and Lani.

  ‘Clear,’ he shakes his head.

  ‘We’ll have this lot anyway, might come in useful.’ We grab trolleys and help the van crews load them up. It’s done within a few minutes and we head back out, stopping to force a path for the trolleys through the debris at the front door.

  Outside we spread out and keep watch while the crews load one of the vans up.

  ‘Done,’ Pete shouts. Even the crews and guards are silent. Everyone is silent. I’ve never known heat this before.

  ‘Load up,’ I call out and head back to the Saxon. ‘Where next?’ I ask once we’re all inside.

  ‘Er…we’ll go for the chemists in the town centre, then the medical place and finally the cash and carry on the exit road,’ Clarence says back in the front and examining the map book.

  ‘Which way?’ I ask bluntly.

  ‘Out the car park and right onto the main road.’ Without another word I pull away, easing the Saxon along and waiting for the vans to loop round and get behind us.

  ‘How’s the fuel? Clarence asks.

  ‘Halfway, keep an eye out for somewhere to fill up.’

  ‘Roger that,’ he says equally as bluntly and we drive on in silence.

  TWENTY-THREE

  DAY SIX

  ‘I gotta eat something,’ Paco tells the dog as they walk down the rain drenched street. His stomach gurgling with a feeling of hollow emptiness. Feeling slightly safer now but still checking behind him and to the sides every few seconds. He looks to the houses either side of the residential street and thinks of the food that could be inside. Mouth-watering at the thoughts of eating decent food he stops and looks about, checking for signs of the monsters.

  One lesson he’d learnt for sure was to avoid houses that had the doors closed and locked, Lucy had gone into one such house and look what happened to her. No, he’d stick with the ones that had the doors already open, hoping and praying the monsters would have found their way out in their search for flesh and brains.

  ‘You hungry girl?’ Paco asks. The dog stared up at him, ears pricked, eyes watchful and intent. ‘I’m hungry, I’m starving hungry…what say we get some food?’

  The fear starts to build as soon as he enters the garden path leading to house. The same fear that had gripped him since that first night. He stops halfway along the path, straining his ears for any sounds of movement in the house. Nothing. He examines the windows. The drapes are open but with net curtains so he couldn’t get a good view of inside.

  Terror started to build quickly, his legs feeling rubbery and weak. Stomach flipping over as he wrings his hands. He watches with surprise as the dog trots straight past him walking into the house, heading straight down the hall to the back. Paco moves forward, stopping at the threshold and examining the inside. No blood or signs of death here, it even smelled fairly normal.

  ‘Dog? Hey dog?’ Paco calls out, breathing a sigh of relief as the dog walks out of a doorway staring at him.

  ‘Is it safe?’ He asks, half expecting the dog to reply. He ventures in carefully, one step at a time. The dog walks straight past him and through another door, then re-appears a few seconds later panting.

  ‘What about up there?’ Paco asks pointing to the stairs. He takes a tentative step towards the stairs and reaches his arm out to grip the handrail. The dog takes the lead again, moving ahead and bounding up the stairs, disappearing into the rooms. Re-appearing as Paco gets to the top.

  ‘All clear?’ Paco asks quietly. He moves carefully from room to room, grimacing as the dog sticks her head into the toilet bowl and laps at the water.

  Back downstairs he again checks every room with the dog trailing closely after him. In the kitchen he makes sure the back door can be opened and there was an escape route before going back to the hallway and closing the front door.

  In the kitchen he opens the fridge, gagging at the stench and warm stale air. Pulling tins from the cupboards he hardly glances at the foreign looking labels and gets them opened quickly. Using a spoon to shovel the contents into his mouth. Cold baked beans never tasted so good, the tomato sauce was so rich and juicy. Groaning with pleasure he wolfs the lot before opening the next tin to find small fat hot dog sausages inside.

  ‘Want some?’ The dog sat staring at him expectantly, I’ve saved your life so feed me. Fingers covered in brine he fished the meaty sausages out and gingerly held one out, she leans forward and takes it gently before swallowing it whole.

  ‘Hungry huh?’ He finds a bowl, filling it with the sausages and more beans from another tin. He places the bowl on the floor and steps back. The dog needs no further invitation and noisily shoves her nose in, shuffling the bowl along the floor as she gobbled the food down. Paco finds tinned fruit, vegetables, spaghetti. He re-fills the bowl with a tin of ravioli, thinking it will be better for the dog as it contains meat.

  He finds eggs that were only a day or so out of date but with no power on he can’t cook them up. Instead they’re cracked open, put in the bowl and whisked up before being put down for the dog. Her appetite was as big as his as they munched and chomped their way through the edible contents of the kitchen.

  Paco turns the cold faucet on and runs the water for a minute before filling a glass and another bowl for the dog. Fed, watered and feeling just slightly not so terrified he leans back against the kitchen top and watches as she starts cleaning herself. Front paws, sides then her privates. The sound is disgusting, like a greedy slurping noise of a child eating a milkshake.

  Having eaten and on a come down from the adrenalin of almost being killed he feels exhausted and drained. Snatching a few hours sleep here and there over the last few days left him almost dizzy with tiredness. Stay here or find somewhere else? He considers the options carefully. They are in a locked house with two escape routes; one front and one rear. The rain might have served to cover their tracks too. He needed sleep that was for sure, and if not here then where?

  After another circuit of the house, checking each door and window was secured he wearily climbs the stairs, stopping at the top and remembering how Lucy got trapped in a bedroom. The stairs were the only viable route of escape. Sofa, he would use the sofa in the lounge. That was midway between the front and back door.

  Stretching out on the soft cushions he felt the pull of fatigue hitting him almost instantly. Turning on his side he looked over at the dog, sat on the floor and watching him with interest. Not only was she huge but she looked intelligent too, her eyes watching his every move, tomato sauce still round her muzzle but at least it wasn’t blood, and better yet it wasn’t his blood.

  She watched as the man’s eyes grew heavy and closed, his breathing changed and she knew he was sleeping. The fear radiated off him and he smelled too strong too. The things would be able to track him easily. She eased herself down, taking a position so she could see him and the door.

  His signals were confusing. He gave her food and spoke to her in a soft voice whi
ch was what the pack leaders did, but he seems more like a little one in his actions and manner.

  At least he didn’t throw things and force her away. He wasn’t her pack but he was somebody, and somebody was better nobody.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  DAY ELEVEN

  ‘This doesn’t look good either,’ I say negotiating the debris littering the road. In the town centre now and it looks like the infection spread fast here. Friday night and the pubs would have been packed. Just one bite is all it would have taken and it would have spread so quickly. The shops are mostly smashed in with doors ripped off. Vehicles left dumped in the middle of the road get nudged out the way by the Saxon.

  ‘There it is,’ Clarence leans forward pointing to the left at the green cross sign attached to the wall. I drive the Saxon over, bringing it to a stop just past the shop front so the first van can park up outside.

  We’re out and scanning the area quickly. The lads moving out to stand in a rough circle and watch the many shops entrances and junctions. Dave and I head over to the building, examining the wreckage of the door and the bodies slumped just outside. I turn one over with my foot, bite marks to the neck. Dave nods and takes point heading through the doorway.

  ‘Looks clear,’ he says quietly, ‘I’ll check the back.’ He heads off towards the counter and the shelving units behind it. They look mostly cleared out, Eleven days in and this is a sign of things to come. The best stuff already looted and taken. Survivors rummaging about amongst the crap left on the floor.

  ‘Another body here, got a knife stuck in its chest,’ Dave shouts back, ‘not one of mine either before you say anything.’

  I can’t help but laugh at the comment which is so unlike him. Leaning over the counter I look down at the decaying mess of a middle aged men with a kitchen knife buried to the hilt in his chest.

  ‘He looks normal dead,’ I say to Dave, ‘a knife to the chest doesn’t normally stop them.’

  ‘He is normal dead,’ Dave replies leaning down and pulling one of the eyelids back.

  ‘Jesus, killed by another survivor…’

  ‘The back room is still locked.’

  ‘Is it?’ I walk round and head past the high shelves to a locked door. Trying the technique Clarence taught us I press the top and bottom to find they yield. One lock in the middle. I stand back and aim a boot hard at the middle. It gives a little with a splintering noise but holds closed.

  ‘Together,’ Dave says. He stands next to me as I count to three. Our combined weight forces the door open and we shoulder our way in.

  ‘Happy days,’ I mutter at the well-stocked store room. Boxes of medicines and cases of general stock left unlooted.

  ‘Howie to Pete, we got a result in here.’

  ‘Roger that, on way now.’

  ‘CONTACT,’ Blowers yells from the front, ‘COMING FROM THE JUNCTION.’ We both run through the shop and out into the front. Blowers and Cookey stood a short distance off aiming at a horde of undead emerging slowly from a junction a hundred metres or so away.

  ‘Can I have them?’ Nick shouts from his position on the machine gun.

  ‘Crack on mate,’ I shout back, the last bit of my sentence cut off by the retort of the GPMG thudding to life. We watch as the horde are cut to pieces, blown apart by the large calibre bullets.

  ‘OTHER SIDE,’ Tom shouts aiming to a shop front at an undead staggering out. He opens fire, using single shots. The first couple miss, striking the front of the building and tearing a chunk of masonry away. The zombies are killed within seconds. More stagger out from the junction, but they’re slow and spread out. Nick fires intermittently, letting a few come out together before he takes them down.

  Pete leads the van crews into the chemist shop, grabbing every bit of stock from the store room and moving quickly to load up.

  Shouting from further up the street sends us all spinning round and raising our assault rifles. A man waving his arms running towards us. He stops on seeing the rifles pointing at him, shouting but too far away to hear him clearly.

  ‘Dave, tell him to come down but slowly,’ I call behind me.

  ‘COME DOWN SLOWLY, KEEP YOUR HANDS UP,’ Dave bellows down the road. The man starts forward again, walking quickly and keeping his arms held straight as arrows above his head.

  ‘Watch him, he might be one of them,’ Dave warns as I start walking towards the man. He steps in beside me, assault rifle held at the ready.

  ‘Hello? Are you the army?’ The man calls out. He looks dreadful, filthy and gaunt, clothes hanging from his once stocky frame.

  ‘No mate, not quite…who are you?’

  ‘My family are living up there,’ he waves back up the street, ‘we saw you lot and thought help was here.’

  ‘Stay there, we need to check you before you get any closer. My mate Dave here is going to come and have a look at you, please just stay still.’

  ‘Okay, we’ve not been bitten, honestly…we’ve kept our kids inside. It’s only me that’s been outside for food…if that means I’m infected then just take them,’ he pleads, tears falling down his cheeks.

  ‘It’s okay mate, just hang on a second,’ I say softly. Dave approaches the man holding his pistol in one hand down to the side.

  ‘Open your eyes wide and look at me,’ Dave orders. The man complies, widening his eyes and staring comically at Dave.

  ‘Have you been bitten or scratched by the undead?’ Dave interrogates him.

  ‘No…god no…not even touched one of them…’ the man says quickly.

  ‘He looks alright as far as I can tell Mr Howie,’ Dave steps away, turning to me with a shrug.

  ‘Thanks, mate, we’re from a fort on the coast a few miles down the road. We’ve got a whole set up going, food, doctors, security. You’re welcome to come back with us if you don’t mind riding in the back of a van…’

  ‘Oh god…’ the man sinks to his knees sobbing loudly, ‘we prayed every day, we kept praying…we didn’t think anyone would ever come.’

  ‘You’re safe now,’ I step closer to him speaking softly, ‘couple of my team will come with you to get your family then we’ll get you out of here, okay?’

  ‘Okay? More than okay…thank you…thank you so much…’

  ‘Just be quick please, Dave take Blowers with you. BLOWERS, GO WITH DAVE TO BRING THIS CHAPS FAMILY OUT HERE.’

  ‘On it,’ Blowers shouts already jogging towards us.

  ‘Are there anymore survivors here?’ I ask the man.

  ‘Probably, we hear people moving about, voices and things…we keep away from the windows though.’

  ‘Wise move, any idea where they live? The survivors I mean?’

  ‘No, sorry…’

  ‘Okay, go with these two but be quick and just grab what you can carry especially medicines and any tinned food.’

  The three of them jog away as I turn back and watch the crews moving between the chemist and the first van. An idea hits me and I wonder back towards the Saxon.

  ‘Nick, when Dave and Blowers get back with that family, get the IPod going with some music. Anything will do, just make it nice and loud.’

  ‘Okay Mr Howie…er…why?’

  ‘Why’s that boss?’ Clarence turns from staring down the road.

  ‘We’ll draw any undead out and kill ‘em, but also any survivors too. Just be careful who you shoot. Cookey, you get on the GPMG while Nick sorts our music out.’

  ‘I can do that if you want Mr Howie,’ Cookey says.

  ‘Can you? Oh…sorry mate, I just figured Nick was our electrical man.’

  ‘He is, but he’s already rigged it up, just need to press play now.’

  ‘Fair one, yeah do that then mate.’

  ‘Any requests?’ Cookey grins as he heads towards the front of the vehicle.

  ‘Nothing too aggressive, we don’t want to scare the survivors into thinking we’re a bunch of wankers.’

  ‘But we are a bunch of wankers,’ Lani adds quick as a flash to a few lau
ghs.

  ‘Yeah but they don’t know that,’ Tom shouts over.

  ‘Dave’s back,’ Nick shouts a few minutes later. I watch as Dave leads the family of four towards us, the same man with a woman and two small children. Dave brings up the rear, turning every few seconds to scan round.

  ‘Pete,’ I call out as he walks back towards the chemist, ‘we’ve got survivors here, can you put them into one of the vans mate?’

  ‘Yeah course, where are they? Oh…yeah I see ‘em, leave it with me,’ he nods and walks off towards the survivors, greeting them warmly and shaking hands.

  ‘He seems a good bloke,’ Clarence mutters from nearby.

  ‘He does,’ I agree. He speaks to the family for a few minutes, waving at Blowers and Dave to say he’s got them. The look of relief on their faces is clear even from this distance. The children look terrified and stay quiet, staring up at the adults talking and nervously glancing round at the men with guns.

  ‘Pete, sorry to keep calling you, we’re going to put some loud music on to draw anymore survivors out but we’ll probably get the things coming too, just so you know if we open up and start firing.’

  ‘Yeah no probs Mr Howie, I’ll let that family know and keep ‘em safe in my van with me.’

  ‘Music is going on, might be more survivors out here…stay alert, crack on Cookey,’ I shout to my group all stood nearby.

  The PA speakers crackle for a second with a low hiss. A second later and we’re listening to Take That belting out a song, I couldn’t tell which one not being an avid Take That fan. Smiles spread across faces, laughing and nodding at Lani who grins back and turns to watch the road.

  The music blares out, a loud beat thumping down the road as they sing about someone re-lighting a fire. Despite music and the grins we all have the tension increases, knowing we’ll get an influx of undead coming our way.

  It doesn’t take long. Zombies shuffle from many different places, exiting shops, walking into view from the end of the roads on both sides, coming from junctions and side streets. Shots ring out as the assault rifles open fire, each one being carefully aimed and making sure they’re not firing on survivors.