The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  That must be it, the infection is giving her a chance to use her own abilities to protect the species. Even Marcy, a former hotel waitress, knows the power of the brain was far greater than most people used. Some people could do highly complex calculations, others had perfect memory recall, remembering everything they had ever read, she remembers seeing a programme about Autistic children that could see a building once then draw it perfectly from memory. Children that could compose perfect musical arrangements. Every one of those people had the same grey matter contained in their skulls, it was just that some had different neural connections which gave them greater skills.

  Marcy senses the possibility and it makes her heart quicken. Like a fantasy that could never be achieved now being a realistic and tangible thing.

  A thought strikes her, an incredible powerful thought that makes her reel, holding her hand out to grasp the desk. Shaking her head she thinks it couldn’t be possible , it just couldn’t…could it?

  ‘Marcy, are you okay?’ April walks in from the main block, wiping a smear of blood from her chin and looking at her leader with concern.

  ‘Stay here and wait for the others, bring them out when they’re all taken,’ Marcy says, not looking at April but thinking frantically, her face staring down at the ground.

  ‘Okay,’ April replies as Marcy runs out the door. She jogs down the road, the need to find out now burning away in her soul. It couldn’t happen like that, it just wouldn’t be possible. But Darren said he had tens of thousands of undead with him, the odds must mean some of them…

  She speeds up, racing through the gates, turning towards the massed horde and Reginald stood there patiently.

  ‘Marcy? Whatever is wrong? Do you need more in there?’ Reginald asks at seeing the state of her.

  ‘No, Reginald, have you ever been sick?’

  ‘Pardon? Have I ever been sick?’

  ‘Yes, have you ever been really sick or suffered from a disease?’

  ‘Marcy, I think I have something of that nature within me right now…we all do,’ he says slowly.

  ‘No I mean…’ she forces herself to be calm, breathing deeply and fighting to control the rush of excitement. Her will, she must use her will. But it doesn't work like that, she can get them to do things but not answer questions…would it work?

  ‘Listen, I want all the communicators over here with me now,’ Marcy calls out, she watches as the chosen ones file towards her, Reginald in the lead and watching with worry etched onto his face.

  Test questions, she needs to be sure they will answer…ask test questions.

  ‘Er…did any of you live in a house?’ She asks. Reginald stares at her perplexed, some of the hosts reply with one word, “yes”.

  ‘Use your hands, put your hand up if you lived in a flat?’ She watches hands lift, the faces all staring at her, ‘okay, put your hand up if you had a driving license,’ again she watches as some hands drop and others lift up. ‘Right…hold your hand up if you worked in a skilled job, something that required training and qualifications,’ she pauses, holding her breath at the more complicated question. A few hands go up, the majority stay down.

  ‘You,’ she points at one woman with her hand up, ‘what did you do?’

  ‘Legal advisor for a pharmaceutical company,’ the woman answers in a flat tone.

  This is it, she can ask the question. She pauses again, suddenly realising what it will mean if they answer.

  ‘Have any of you,’ she asks slowly, ‘no…do any of you suffer from…er….an illness like…er…diabetes! Yes do any of you have diabetes?’ She watches as one hand lifts into the air. ‘You have diabetes?’ She asks.

  ‘Yes,’ the man replies.

  ‘Did you need medication for it? Tell me…’

  ‘I was insulin dependent, I had to inject every day and carried it with me all the time.’

  ‘Was?’ Marcy breathes out, ‘how did you cope when the outbreak started?’

  ‘I had insulin and I was careful,’ the man gives the answer instantly, his tone as dull and lifeless as Robbie’s was.

  ‘What about now?’

  ‘I don’t need it now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I am not diabetic now.’

  The answer hangs in the air as Marcy looks to the only other being that could understand the implication of what was just said. Reginald stands there, his mouth hanging open.

  Fourteen

  ‘I call this meeting to order, this being the first council meeting of the community known collectively as Fort Spitbank, but referred to as simply the fort,’ Sergeant Hopewell stands at the head of the hastily arranged tables. Looking round at the people chosen to make the first council up. The likely ones are all present, Chris, Sarah, Ted, Kelly, the bloke who said he was a pharmacist and that annoying idiot that was going on about making a shrine, or a multi-faith place of worship.

  ‘Terri Trixey, who is the officer sat behind me, will be keeping a record of the meeting unless anyone opposes that?’ She looks up, staring round to see if anyone does oppose it. Nobody does of course, they all just nod back at her, ‘It is important to keep structure and I am aware that not everyone here will know everyone else, so first of all we need to introduce ourselves. My name is Debbie Hopewell, I am a sergeant with the police and I have vast experience in organisation and establishing working practises to suit the task at hand, Chris?’ She sits down, clearly expecting Chris to stand up and showing a look of irritation when he simply leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.

  ‘You all know who I am,’ he smiles, ‘so I won’t bore you,’ he looks to his left at Kelly.

  ‘My name is Kelly, I was chief engineer for many years…’ and so it goes on. Everyone introducing themselves and giving a brief rundown of their working lives.

  Of course I was invited to the council but I was the only one from my team and I insisted that Clarence come with me. That’s caused another disagreement which Chris smoothed over with some soft words.

  The pharmacist is thankfully very brief, just giving his name and saying what his job was, which is enough. Unfortunately the preacher man isn’t so brief, going into great detail about all the studies he’s done of so many religions and the differing factors of faith, how he’s worked with drug users and helped with youth counselling services. I feel myself starting to fidget, getting annoyed at the idiot for hogging the limelight and talking so much. We need fuel for the machines, we need to get Meredith tested…why can’t these people see that?

  ‘Mate,’ the words come out of my mouth before I realise what I’m doing, ‘no offence but we need to move on.’ That earns me a sharp look from Sergeant Hopewell and a few others while Chris and Clarence smirk into their coffee mugs. That shows how much I’ve changed, I would never have dreamt of saying something like that a couple of weeks ago.

  ‘Oh right, yes of course…I do apologise I do have a tendency to go on a bit, it’s just that I find all of these things so very interesting, the social formations we structure around the faiths and of course the way that having faith, in whatever god or deity you choose, does help enormously…’

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ I cut across him, earning an even sharper look from Sergeant Hopewell and a mutter from Clarence, ‘making friends already there boss.’

  Clarence clears his throat, realising it’s his turn to speak, ‘Clarence, I worked with Chris in the Parachute Regiment for many years, I’m part of Mr Howie’s team now.’ He looks at me expectantly.

  ‘My name is Howie, I was named after my father Howard but it was too confusing to have two Howard’s so I became Howie. I am twenty seven years old and I worked as a supermarket manager before the outbreak,’ I have no idea why I said all that, I guess the tiredness and fatigue is making me reckless, I feel like I just don’t give a shit what these people think of me.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sergeant Hopewell says, giving me a strange look, ‘so we all know who we are, the first thing we need to do is set an agend
a of items for discussion. We go back round the table and everyone has an opportunity to put forward what they wish to discuss…’

  ‘Where is Doctor Roberts?’ I ask, interrupting her.

  ‘He has too much work to do, he couldn’t make it,’ she replies without looking at me, ‘so if we start…’

  ‘Who represents the medical side of things then?’

  ‘If you were listening Howie, you would have heard James saying he was here on behalf of the medical team.’

  ‘Oh sorry James,’ I smile at the man who nervously smiles back, ‘I wasn’t listening.’ Glancing round I see Sarah staring daggers at me, Chris examining something on the table and Ted staring at the ceiling.

  ‘As I was saying…anyone who wants to put an item forward can do so…’

  ‘Are you a doctor then?’ I ask James sitting opposite me, ‘I really wasn’t listening earlier.’

  ‘Er, yes, well I’m a junior doctor actually but yes I am a doctor,’ he replies with another nervous glance, this time at Sergeant Hopewell.

  ‘Moving on,’ she says through gritted teeth, ‘I’ll go first…’

  ‘Why you?’ I ask immediately, my voice casual but my intent to be as annoying as possible is quite clear.

  ‘Because I am the chair,’ she replies, ‘so I chair the meeting and in order to give everyone an idea of the kinds of things we need to discuss I thought I would go first.’

  ‘Why are you the chair?’ I ask with a neutral expression, ‘did I miss a vote or something?’

  Her face goes red with anger as she fights to control her temper.

  ‘Good point,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘why are you chairing? Why not Chris or Mr Howie?’

  ‘Or Ted for that matter, surely it’s up for everyone to decide who the chair is, I mean if we’re going to have a committee…’

  ‘A council,’ she corrects me.

  ‘A council,’ I concede with a nod, ‘then it must be done fairly.’ I smile round the room, seeing Sarah shaking her head at me and rolling her eyes, ‘I propose we vote on who the chair should be, who wishes to be considered for the position of the chair?’

  ‘It’s not the chair, it’s just chair,’ Clarence corrects me politely.

  ‘Oh I do apologise, who wishes to be considered for the position of chair?’ I stare round the table with a look of pure innocence, ‘Chris?’

  ‘I’m happy to do it,’ he replies rubbing his beard and shaking his head.

  ‘What about you Mr Howie?’ Clarence asks me with a light tone.

  ‘Me? I’d love the chance to be a chair.’

  ‘It’s not a chair, it’s just chair,’ he says.

  ‘I did it again, sorry.’

  ‘Are you going to do this the whole way through?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks with forced patience.

  ‘Do what?’ I ask.

  ‘Disrupt the proceedings?’ She replies quickly.

  ‘I’m not disrupting the proceedings, I merely questioned why you get to put the first idea forward and why you are the chair, sorry…why you are chair…this has to be a fair system, we are not some autocratic society here Debbie that does what you tell them to do.’ We lock eyes, I’ve just made myself an enemy, that much is clear. The hatred pouring from her is palpable.

  ‘Fine, so who wants to be the chair?’ She asks.

  ‘Chair, not the chair,’ Clarence says.

  She takes a deep breath and looks down for a few seconds, ‘who wants to be chair?’

  ‘I do,’ I reply.

  ‘You want to be chair?’ She asks.

  ‘Yes please.’

  ‘I second that,’ Clarence adds.

  ‘Okay, all those who want Howie to be the…to be chair please raise your hand.’ To my surprise, several of them lift their hands up, James being one, Sarah does and both Chris and Clarence, even Kelly raises her arm.

  ‘Is that over half? It looks like over half. Does that mean I can be the chair?’

  ‘Chair,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Yes, it would appear that is the case,’ Sergeant Hopewell smiles, ‘please carry on then,’ she nods to me and sits down.

  ‘Er…right, and what does a chair do? Other than for sitting on obviously.’

  ‘This is bloody farcical,’ she explodes, slamming her hands down on the table.

  ‘Please do not disrupt the proceedings,’ I say calmly, ‘now about this idea thing that was mentioned, who has ideas they want to discuss? Only serious ones will be considered…and definitely nothing about religion or places of worship.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ the preacher man says.

  ‘Why not? I thought I was the chair?’

  ‘Chair,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Howie,’ Sarah says, ‘you have to allow everyone a chance to put their ideas forward.’

  ‘Do I? Okay then, sorry,’ I nod at the preacher man who smiles back at me, all trace of humour gone from his eyes.

  ‘Well, ladies first I guess…oh hang on,’ I correct myself, ‘that is both sexist and discriminatory and I apologise to the members of the council, we could go with the oldest first but that would be ageist…so er…anyone?’ I ask catching a wry smile on Kelly’s face.

  ‘Yes I would like to discuss the placing of a multi-faith area within the fort, I think this would be of great benefit to the community for a variety of different reasons…’

  ‘I’ll stop you there,’ I cut him off before he has a chance to get going, ‘this is the bit where you put your suggestion for discussion, not the actual discussion.’

  ‘Oh yes of course, sorry chair,’ he glances at Sergeant Hopewell, flusters then corrects himself, looking at me, ‘I mean chair,’ he nods.

  ‘Anyway that idea is dismissed,’ I say, ‘next?’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ The preacher says shocked.

  ‘Can and I just did, next?’

  ‘I would like to discuss keeping the gates locked with armed guards on both sides, also placing the heavy machine gun on the top of the wall…’ Clarence says.

  ‘Got it, two items there for discussion, great ideas too I might add, anyone else?’

  ‘I would like to discuss getting an alarm system set up,’ Kelly says, clearly getting into the swing of things.

  ‘Oh another great idea, that’s three, anyone else?’

  ‘We need fuel for the generators, we can’t do any tests on Meredith until we get some,’ James says.

  ‘I like these ideas, that makes four, anything else?’

  ‘But hang on,’ the preacher leans forward, ‘you can’t just choose what items to discuss.’

  ‘Okay, quick vote, all those who do not want to discuss religious stuff please raise your arm,’ the same people all vote again, clearly over half the room, ‘vote completed, and it goes against you, sorry but we are not discussing it.’

  ‘But…’ he stammers.

  ‘Democracy,’ I cut him off again, ‘can’t argue with it I’m afraid, the people have spoken.’

  ‘Howie this is outrageous,’ Sergeant Hopewell shouts.

  ‘Why?’ Kelly leans forward, her voice clear and steady, ‘why is it outrageous? This was your idea to have a council, Mr Howie asked the members to vote and they did, everything is above board and fair.’

  ‘But he’s doing it on bloody purpose.’

  ‘Doing what Debbie? What is he doing?’ Kelly asks.

  ‘Being immature and infantile, blundering on and using his popularity to make this awkward.’

  ‘It has been done fairly, as you decreed it should be done,’ James says with a very cultured voice that I didn’t pick up on earlier.

  ‘But he’s a bloody supermarket manager,’ she shouts, ‘he’s running rings round you, manipulating everyone.’

  ‘Last night,’ my voice booms across the table, ‘I stabbed one of my own team through the fucking neck and killed him, I shot a baby as it bit into its mothers neck, then I shot the mother…those things had to be done and this,’ I cast my arm round the table, ‘is a stupid waste
of time, this is something that is done in a few months when we’re on our feet. It hasn’t even been two weeks yet and we’re sat round a fucking table taking fucking votes. This is the ridiculous thing and if you,’ I point directly at Sergeant Hopewell, ‘cannot keep up then I suggest you fuck off and let those that can get on with it. We have a dog out there that is immune to the virus, we have machines that can test that dog and find out why it’s different to everything else but instead of getting fuel we’re sat here talking about fucking religion. There are sick people out there that need food and clothing, the supplies we have will only last a little while, we need people going out to scavenge and find food, we need ammunition and weapons, better security, more lights and above all else…we need FUEL.’ I’m on my feet, glaring at the faces. The preacher drops his eyes, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat. Sarah stares at me with a strange look.

  Sitting back down I look down the table to Sergeant Hopewell sat quietly, it looks like the fight has gone out of her, she goes to say something then stops, her mouth open but without any words coming out.

  ‘Terri, start a list of actions please, James,’ I look to the doctor sat opposite me, ‘other than fuel is there anything you’re desperate for?’

  ‘Anti-biotics, penicillin, blood and anaesthetic,’ he replies quickly.

  ‘Terri add it to the list please, Kelly what do you need to get an alarm rigged up?’

  Roger Hastings, the old fort curator leans forward, clearing his throat and speaking for the first time, ‘there was an old loud speaker system here, the wiring is old but it might be salvageable.’

  ‘Thanks, you show Kelly where it is and Kelly will let the police office know if we need anything else, but be quick as the shops are getting quickly emptied by other survivors.’

  ‘I’ll need to assess it first but we’ll get something rigged up, even if it’s a line of people stood with megaphones,’ Kelly adds.

  ‘Ted, the guards…’

  ‘I’m on it,’ he replies quickly, ‘that won’t happen again, guards will be on both sides of the gates.’

  ‘And they’ll be kept locked,’ Chris says.