The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Sorry Marcy,’ he responds quickly, dropping his head to stare at the ground.

  ‘Alright Robbie, your shift finished already has it?’ Someone calls out from a shop doorway.

  ‘Just going for a piss Mr Thomas,’ Robbie replies, his voice still flat and getting a strange look from Mr Thomas, but fortunately nothing more than.

  ‘Well done,’ Marcy whispers softly.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replies, feeling a deep sense of pride at getting a compliment from his beloved leader.

  They reach nearly to the end of the High Street, the high barricade at the roundabout now very close. The first scream rips through the air, carrying easily through the quiet street, funnelled by the high buildings and with no vehicles or traffic, the noise travelled to every corner. More screams joined the first. Marcy smiled with satisfaction, copying everyone else by turning to stare at the other end of the street. She watches as one of her communicators runs from a doorway, lunging at the back of a man stood staring into the distance. He bites quickly, ripping a chunk of flesh away from the back of his neck and already moving off to take another as the man spins round clutching his bleeding skin.

  Several are bitten before anyone has any real sense of what’s happening, Marcy watches as the scene explodes in front of her. People screaming in blind panic, running in all directions. Men run into the street holding shotguns but clearly with no idea who to shoot. People shout instructions, drowning each other out. Confusion abounds. Marcy nods at Robbie, giving him the go ahead to have some fun. He runs off, attacking a group of people bent over trying to stop a victim from convulsing.

  ‘This couldn’t have been easier,’ she mutters. The urge to join in almost overwhelms her, the need to bite, feast, tear flesh open and purge their human blood. She resists, feeling the excruciating agony of denial threatening to pull her into the earth. A body falls close, the blood oozing from a bite wound to the neck. She stares down, her chest heaving as she fights to control the urge. Eyes locked on the body. A hand claws at her leg, desperate, pleading, begging for help. She stands still, watching with morbid interest as the body slowly dies, the hand clutching hard for a second before slowly releasing to drop to the ground. She crouches, running her index finger over the contours of the face, feeling the stubble of the dead man’s chin. Her hand drops, the fingers tracing closer to the wound, tantalising, teasing, she pushes her finger over the wound, feeling the roughness of the torn skin. Sticky blood coats her finger, she lifts it up, savouring that urge as she runs it lightly over her lips. One small lick and she closes her eyes in ecstasy. Her taste buds sending feelings of orgasmic pleasure to her brain.

  While hundreds die, slaughtered in the most horrifying manner she rests with eyes closed, listening to the sounds of suffering, the screams of agony and pain, the children crying for their mothers, grown men weeping as they fall to the ground, powerless to defend their loved ones.

  The sounds conflict within her soul. Her face betraying the emotions. Life is suffering. Born into the cold, desperate for love and nurture and created in a world that knows only how to cause pain. The agony they suffer is a rite of passage, for only by suffering that agony can they be re-born into the new species. The new life where there is no suffering. No violence between them, only that which is dealt to the humans. No pain, no temptations, just life in the perfect state of being. A super organism moving to the will of one for the good of many.

  This pain they face now, the sheer agony as they see everything around them crumble and die is the only way they can truly evolve. This infection, this disease…this thing inside them pushes the advancement of mankind far greater than ten thousand years of natural selection. If this had been at the dawn of mankind there would already be immortality and peace throughout the universe. They would already be reaching the stars, inhabiting other planets, probing to the deepest parts of the ocean, mapping the body and curing all disease. Every member of the species working together in harmony and for the one simple aim of surviving.

  Some go peacefully, like Robbie they endure the agony in a state of near bliss with barely any suffering. More than anything Marcy wants to reach out and give that feeling to all of the fallen humans, to show them they can pass through in peace, lay quietly hand in hand with their loved ones, close their eyes and wait for the glory to work through them. If only she could do this, could reach out and ease that pain.

  A single tear rolls down her cheek as she remembers the fear she felt at passing through. The act of dying alone in a dirty street while being held by a strange monster with red eyes. The words he gave were soft and comforting. She, like these humans now, fought against the final act, as if that struggle would somehow prevent her from dying.

  She opens her eyes, the agony within her shows clearly. She prays they will pass quickly and join them, re-awaken and feel the love within them, feel the glory of being a perfect being with a single intent to work together to achieve a common aim.

  The screams gently cease as the last are taken. Single voices now cry out as the last are hunted. She watches the road, seeing as the bodies twitch and convulse. All around her new life is beginning. Like roses blossoming under the beautiful summer sun she watches the bodies jerk as they enter into the new world. Sitting up, opening their red bloodshot eyes. Every one of them now feeling at peace, no longer suffering or feeling the indignity of life. They stand slowly, their movements unsteady. She stands with them, a small smile forming on her lips, the sadness in her eyes being replaced by a look of love and pleasure. A welcoming gesture and the smile grows wider as they all turn to face her, hundreds of red eyes staring at their beloved leader. She grins back at them, showing them her love, showing them this is a new time.

  The suffering has passed for now. Many more will have to pay that price, but it is a small cost for what they now have. Men, women and children all move silently towards her. Their feet ungainly at first as the infection quickly masters the thousands of nuances it takes to control each separate host.

  ‘Welcome,’ her voice carries clearly in the now silent street, ‘I am sorry for the pain you had to endure but it’s over now, we are one and we are together.’ They stare back, eyes full of wonder and awe, chemicals pumped into their systems bring them to a state of bliss. Absolute adoration flows from them to Marcy and to each other. No longer confined by family ties with just mothers loving children or husbands loving wives, for now the love is shared.

  A bespectacled man appears at the far end of the street, Marcy watches him weave down the road, moving between the hosts as he nods and greets them politely, ‘welcome, hello, nice to meet you,’ he repeats the salutation over and over, finally reaching the end and spotting Marcy standing there.

  ‘Reggie my love, you made it then,’ she says warmly.

  ‘Reginald please, yes I made it although I did not appreciate being left in that store on my own, do you know some of those items of undergarments were incomplete.’

  ‘Incomplete?’ She asks.

  ‘Yes Marcy, incomplete. I really don’t know how the retailer allowed them to be placed on display. I thought initially that it was just one item like it, but on closer inspection I realised the manufacturer must have mass produced from a flawed schematic. I mean who on earth would fail to see that the knickers they were selling did not have sufficient material in the crotch, honestly! That is why the retail industry was struggling…’

  ‘Yes Reginald, very true,’ she smiles inwardly, feeling somewhat touched at his naivety and innocence. How rare to find someone uncorrupted. ‘Reginald my dear, would you get a head count for me please and send me some communicators. We have much work to do,’ she requests, pulling the map book from the back of her waistband to start examining the layout of the residential streets.

  ‘I will do that forthwith Marcy,’ he replies, turning round to start counting the now still host bodies.

  Marcy moves to the shade, examining the map and deciding to simply work out from the centre. She waits unti
l Reginald returns with the numbers, ‘four hundred and twenty seven gained, I think we lost two,’ he explains, ‘and one is in a wheelchair and I am not entirely sure of your policy with regard to living challenged persons who suffer from a physical disability or impediment.’

  ‘They can come with us, someone can push them along,’ she answers.

  ‘I will see to that, is that to be the case with all living challenged persons suffering from a physical disability or would you rather assess each one on their individual circumstances?’

  ‘We really shouldn’t leave any behind Reginald, unless they are so disabled as to cause delay or undue hardship then they will have to be left.’

  ‘I understand entirely Marcy.’

  ‘Can you get someone to the cinema building and ask April to bring our group here, there’s plenty of shade for them to rest in.’

  ‘Yes Marcy, and if I may add,’ he clears his throat, straightening his sleeves out before continuing, ‘I would like to say that I think you have done a remarkable job so far and the taking of this compound was perfectly executed.’

  ‘Thank you Reginald, that is a very kind thing to say.’ She smiles as he walks off, the small man full of importance as he runs the errands set for him.

  She busies herself dispatching communicators away with small groups, allocating them streets to check and clear. Robbie stands nearby, watching his leader closely as she steadily works through the area.

  Marcy pauses her work as April returns with a long and steady flow of hosts pouring through the access gate. Reginald directs them into shaded areas, busily arranging sections and sending April down to Marcy.

  ‘Any trouble?’ Marcy asks as the woman approaches.

  ‘No Marcy, how many did we gain from here?’

  ‘Over hour hundred with only two losses.’

  ‘That’s great,’ April smiles with genuine pleasure, ‘where do you want me?’

  Marcy continues, giving street names to small groups and watching them nod in understanding as they file away. ‘Robbie, can you arrange for some water to be brought out please.’

  ‘Water?’ Robbie asks in the same dull tone.

  ‘They hate it but it’s very hot and we need to keep them as refreshed as possible, in fact…that will be your responsibility from now on, keeping them watered as much as possible.’

  ‘Thank you Marcy,’ Robbie swells with pride, moving off quickly to fulfil the request. She smiles again, shaking her head as she returns to the map book, her finger tracing the roads out of town. Another couple of hours will see this town done, the amount of hosts she had turned to communicators allowed the progression to be done that much faster.

  Eight

  ‘Get your mother-fucking backs into that mother-fucking wall, you are weak, weak as a little baby in a crib crying for its momma. My mother-fucking grandmother is stronger than you motherfuckers, gimme that mother-fucking bar,’ Randall strides forward, snatching the seven foot barbell from the inmate. ‘Get the fuck outa my mother-fucking way,’ he snarls, eyes wide with fury. The inmates step away, giving the large angry man some space. Randall grasps the bar two handed, standing side on to the wall he drives the end into the hard surface forcing a chunk of plaster to fall away. He strikes again harder, the dull thud resounding through the wall. Plaster fractures and falls, exposing the hard blocks underneath.

  Each strike gets harder as he powers more strength into it, twisting his upper body round and driving the bar in using his back, shoulders and arms. His face becoming demonic as his energy increases with each strike. Those that know him recognise the look from the intensity of his workouts. Lifting phenomenal weight seemingly just from the strength of his mind.

  ‘You,’ Randall pauses to stare at a large built man stood watching with his arms folded, ‘get in here with me, stand opposite me you motherfucker, hold that bar hard boy, you hold it hard and move with me, like this…’ Randall swings back gently, slowly driving the end into the wall. The man stands opposite, so close he can smell the musty body odour from Randall. They go easy, pulling the bar back to drive it in slowly. They master the motion, going harder with each strike, Randall keeps the motion steady, working up to a rhythm. ‘Now motherfucker, command that wall to break, say it with me you motherfucker, say it with me,’ the man mutters the words softly, feeling self-conscious at the overt character of the American .

  ‘What the fuck is wrong with you? Say it like a mother-fucking man, I command you to break…I mother-fucking command you to break…’ The man repeats it louder, the knuckles of his hands going white from gripping the bar, ‘man you need to take that energy and channel it, you gotta channel that mother-fucking rage inside you…how long since you had a woman? How long since you had a drink like a man? When was the last time you saw some mother-fucking titties? You wanna see some mother-fucking titties?’ Randall stares at the man, both of them gripping the bar, drawing it back to slam it forward into the wall, each strike building power. The man’s face flushes from the relentless words Randall roars at him, ‘you want some mother-fucking titties? You want to smell that fresh air? You gotta get mad, get mad with me, come on…I command you to break…’

  ‘I command you to break,’ the man sputters with growing anger, they pull the bar back, driving it with increasing power.

  ‘Come on, get mad you motherfucker, you a married man? I’m gonna find your wife and fuck her, I’m gonna find your mother-fucking wife and fuck her good, that make you mad?’ The man gives a gargled yell, his face now a deep shade of red, eyes ablaze. ‘Get in here you dumb motherfuckers, two more…’ Randall glares at two inmates stood watching. They dart forward, too fearful to do anything other than ordered. They take position either side of the bar, standing shoulder to shoulder with Randall and the other man.

  ‘I’m gonna fuck all your wives and get me some big old titties…I command you to break, I command you to break.’ The chant gets taken up, repeated with every strike. The power builds as the men drop into the rhythm. The blocks start chipping, fracturing with chunks breaking away. Mortar breaks up from the constant pounding, another barbell is taken up alongside them, men grasping the metal tube and dropping into the rhythm dictated by Randall. They focus on the section below the heavily barred windows, hoping the wall will be weaker. Inmates keep glancing up at the glass, seeing the width of the wall extend beyond the line of the window, judging how much further they will have to go.

  Randall drops back, bellowing at the other inmates to rotate round and keep the strength and energy high. The noise flows through the prison, inmates flood to the area. Iron bars from the showers are ripped out and carried to the outer wall. A long line of prisoners attack the wall, driving the metal pipes into the solid structure. A cacophony of sound accompanied by the chant urged on by Randall cajoling, threatening and goading them.

  The inner part of the wall starts to degrade, the men work harder, battering the concrete blocks away. A small hole forms, causing a loud groan to be taken up at the sight of the next layer of undamaged blocks.

  ‘What you whining for you motherfuckers, you think this is over? This ain’t over, there could be fifty walls here and we will mother-fucking destroy them all.’

  Jonas stands back watching, organising water to be brought in for the men working. He stares at the blue sky outside the window, both longing to be outside and away from this violent environment but also extremely concerned at what lies out there. No word from the outside world since it began. The many mobiles within the prison had been tried until the batteries ran out, some were charged up until the electricity failed. The landlines in the office were tried repeatedly until they too failed.

  The radio from the staff room was continually re-tuned across all frequencies constantly scanning for any broadcasts. For all they knew the world had entirely ended. No vehicles could be seen on the road, no people walking across the fields. The cattle were still at graze in the meadows. Some element of conflict waged within Jonas, a feeling that breaching th
e security of the walls was somehow a mistake. But to stay in here would mean certain death, either from the violence constantly erupting between the inmates or simply starving to death.

  Jonas knew that it wouldn’t be long before these men turned to cannibalism, as far-fetched as that may seem he understood better than anyone that while these men were the very dregs of society, they were also born survivors and would do anything to stay alive.

  No, getting out was the best option for staying alive. He’d already identified a small group to move with, knowing that large numbers would just cause further problems. A large gang might make them harder to attack, but finding food would be difficult and keeping a large gang in check would also be hard. Keep a small group of carefully selected men with him and move as far away from the prison as possible. Head north and find the coast, get a boat and back to the mainland.

  Randall was a concern. The man possessed an awe inspiring energy and simply didn’t conform to any basic fundamental rules. He owed no allegiance to any man and had the ability, both mentally and physically, to take what he wanted.

  ‘You worried Jonas?’ One of his close associates saw Jonas watching Randall closely, understanding the look of concern on the leaders face.

  Jonas breathes out, a deep sigh as he watches the hard American bully the inmates into working harder, he dominated the room. The black tattoo’s etched onto his arms, shoulders and neck, the thick black beard and huge defined muscles, by mere presence alone he could dominate any environment, but now, bellowing with an unsurpassed energy he looked unstoppable, like something from a comic book, ‘he’s dangerous,’ Jonas mutters quietly.

  ‘We’re all dangerous Jonas, that’s why we’re here.’

  ‘He poses a danger to all of us, the second we’re out he’ll try and take control. Look at him, they’re all frightened…I’ve never seen anyone have that effect before.’

  ‘What’s the plan then? Take him out once we get outside?’