The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Yes Chris, they should have been last night but I think a combination of the heat, exhaustion, then Howie getting back with the dog…things just slipped, inexcusable but it happened.’

  ‘We’re not blaming you Ted,’ Chris says quickly, ‘we’re all at fault, have you got enough guards?’

  ‘In truth? No, we don’t. We need more but we’re already using everyone that’s had experience of weapons.’

  ‘We’ll get more trained,’ Chris replies, ‘Terri, put that on the list as a priority action, we need volunteers for weapon training and guard duties, next?’

  ‘The second GPMG we brought back from the navy ship, Dave suggested we get it rigged up on the wall facing out onto the flatlands,’ I say.

  ‘Should be doable,’ Chris nods, looking at Kelly.

  ‘I’ve no experience of mounting weapons,’ she says, ‘but we can have a look, shouldn’t be too difficult.’

  ‘It’s not,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘you must have seen them on the news and movies, blokes get them stuck on the back of pick-up trucks and lorries.’

  ‘Yes I know what you mean, yeah we should be able to do something.’

  ‘Great,’ I smile at the engineer.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better to put it on the ground outside the main gates behind a wall of sandbags, it’ll cover the immediate ground area then and give a visible deterrent,’ Ted asks.

  Chris rubs his beard, nodding while thinking, ‘good point Ted, yeah we could do that I suppose.’

  ‘A visible deterrent is also a visible target,’ Clarence says, ‘that would mean keeping guards outside the gates all night, all it would take is someone to nod off and get taken and we’ve lost our best weapon.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Ted nods, ‘I take it back, best to leave it inside the perimeter then.’

  ‘Agreed?’ I ask, looking at the three men with the greatest experience, they nod back. ‘Terri…’

  ‘Got it,’ she calls out.

  ‘Next?’

  ‘Sanitation,’ James looks at me, ‘I took a walk round yesterday and saw people eating food with their hands. That would be acceptable in their own homes where the general spread of bacteria was contained and limited, but here with this heat with so many people it could lead to disaster.’

  ‘What do you propose?’ I ask.

  ‘The toilets in the visitor centre are barely coping too, they keep getting blocked up and we’re using so much water,’ Terri jumps in, giving a quick nervous glance to Sergeant Hopewell who is following the conversation with great interest and a foul look on her face.

  ‘Knives and forks,’ James shrugs, ‘and clean hands, we can use anti-bacterial gels and cleaners but we need to stress the importance of basic hygiene, and keeping the eating utensils clean too.’

  ‘What are we doing now? With the eating arrangements.’

  Everyone looks at Sergeant Hopewell who shrugs and looks away, ‘er…the stores are giving out the rations of food and people are taking it back to central cooking areas within the living areas and serving from there.’ Terri explains after another nervous look at her sergeant.

  ‘Is there anything else we can do? How about we serve everyone from one point, they take it in turns, section by section or something like that.’

  ‘We could, but that would take some doing,’ Sarah cuts in, ‘there’s already a lot of people here.’

  ‘Okay, Sarah and Terri, I want you both to look into it and liaise with Doctor James to establish a better practise, Kelly can you get someone to look at the toilets?’

  ‘Already done, we keep on looking at them, people have got to stop shoving so much toilet paper down them.’

  ‘Okay, get signs up. Toilet paper goes into bins which can be taken and burnt, not down the toilets. Sarah and Terri, are you happy with looking at the food arrangements, I didn’t want you to think I was asking you seeing as your both girls,’ I say with a smile.

  Sarah smiles back, shaking her head at me, ‘no it’s fine,’ she replies, ‘we’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Speaking of burning,’ Kelly says, ‘the bodies still haven’t been done yet.’

  ‘Fuel,’ Chris replies, ‘all comes down to fuel…that is the top priority.’

  Sighing I rub my face, turning to Clarence, ‘we’ll have to go back out.’

  ‘Okay boss,’ he nods.

  ‘You say it like it’s a bad thing, something wrong?’ Sarah asks.

  ‘Nah nothing,’ I shake my head, ‘we’ve been pushing the lads non-stop and I promised them some downtime but this comes first…what we doing with the dog in the meantime?’

  ‘What about her?’ Ted asks.

  ‘Well she’s with us inside the fort, but if we’re going out…’

  ‘We cannot risk anything happening to that dog, Doctor Roberts is adamant about that,’ Doctor James says, ‘the dog must stay here.’

  ‘Then it must stay with Chris, by his side,’ Clarence replies, ‘no offence but…’

  ‘You don’t need to say anything else,’ Ted holds his hand up, ‘everyone knows to protect that dog above everything.’

  ‘Right, good…anything else? Only it seems to me that’s enough for now.’

  ‘No, nothing from me,’ Doctor James says. Kelly shakes her head, a quick scan round the room shows everyone else nodding in agreement.

  Standing up I address the room again, ‘listen, all the little things that need doing will get done, we’ll get round to them but things have be done in priority. There is one more thing that needs to be decided…other than now when we can meet and make these decision, I think Chris should continue with the day to day running of the fort and be in overall command to make quick decisions, does anyone oppose that?’

  ‘Why Chris?’ Sergeant Hopewell snaps, her eyes filled with malice.

  ‘Because he’s being doing it already pretty much, makes sense to me,’ I reply.

  ‘Debbie and I have both been doing it,’ Chris says, ‘that would make the most sense…if we both keep doing it.’ He offers her the olive branch, his tone neutral but clearly wanting her to agree.

  ‘Go to hell,’ she looks away. Olive branch rejected, snapped, burnt and thrown away. An awkward silence descends, no one quite knowing what to say or do.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Chris keep his tone soft.

  ‘We’ll get going for the fuel…any suggestions where we try?’

  ‘Dockyards,’ Ted suggests with a pained look at Sergeant Hopewell, ‘always loads of diesel for the ships.’

  ‘Okay, dockyards it is.’

  Outside Clarence and I walk slowly back to our rooms, chatting quietly when Terri runs up calling my name, I turn round to see her looking pensive.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Listen, Debbie has taken it really hard losing Steven and Tom, she blames herself for letting them go with you…’

  ‘Seems like she blames us not herself,’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah well maybe but…just give her a bit of time.’

  ‘Time? There isn’t time Terri, if she’s struggling she can withdraw and be quiet somewhere, do mundane stuff or whatever, no one will think any worse for it but saying the things she said and getting everyone whipped up is dangerous.’

  ‘I know, I was angry at you too, we all were but, I…I don’t know,’ she trails off with a look of deep sadness in her eyes.

  ‘It looks like she’s losing it to me.’

  She flashes a look of anger at me, ‘she’s not losing it,’ she snaps.

  ‘What was that then? Perfectly rational behaviour?’

  ‘Howie this has been hard on all of us, you’re not the only one having a hard time you know.’

  ‘Really? Well fuck me, I didn’t notice,’ my tone is harsher than I intended, she blanches at me, her face a mixture of hurt then anger. She doesn't reply, just shakes her head and walks off.

  ‘Come on,’ I snap at Clarence, he gives me a pointed look, shrugs and starts walking.

  ‘Bit harsh boss,’ he mutte
rs, ‘I think she was only trying to sort things out.’

  ‘Probably but I’ve had it with pussy footing around them. These are hard times and they’ve got to face up to it.’

  ‘True enough.’

  ‘Dave, get everyone ready, we’re moving out as soon as possible,’ I call out as we enter our rooms.

  ‘Fresh coffee on the table,’ Blowers says, nodding at the steaming mugs.

  ‘Cheers mate.’

  ‘How did it go?’ Lani asks, walking into the main room as she ties her hair back into a pony tail.

  ‘Okay I guess.’

  ‘The boss snapped and shouted at everyone, but it looked like most of ‘em were on our side anyway so we got away with it,’ Clarence explains.

  ‘Bloody hell, wish I could have seen that,’ Cookey says,

  ‘And he told Sergeant Hopewell to fuck off again.’

  ‘Yeah maybe that was a bit strong,’ I groan.

  ‘No, it was needed. It got the right things done, did you see the way Ted was joining in the conversation after you went off on one?’

  ‘Most of them were actually,’ I reply.

  ‘So what’s the plan? We going for fuel?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘Yep, situation is desperate, they can’t run the machines or burn the bodies without it.’

  ‘What about the dog?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘She stays here,’ I reply, ‘but she’ll be with Chris,’ I add at the worried looks they exchange.

  We drink the coffee and make ready for another trip out, Tom’s absence feels profound. He was only with us for a few days but the sight of his kit in the corner, alone and away from everything else is chilling, a stark reminder of what we have to do.

  Looking at Cookey, Blowers, Nick and even Lani I question if this is too much for them, if I’m asking too much. Debbie’s words keep spinning through my mind, a supermarket manager rampaging round the country with a bunch of delinquent kids. They didn’t ask for any of this. Fate brought us together but something else keeps us together.

  Anyone of them could stand down and say they’ve had enough. Especially the three lads, they’ve been non-stop since this began, not a day has gone by without them putting themselves at risk for something I want them to do. The closeness between them is striking. I know they didn’t know each other before they arrived at Salisbury, but to look at the way they interact you’d think they were lifelong mates. Lani gels with them brilliantly, a wise head on young shoulders but with a cracking sense of humour, bouncing of them with ease.

  Staring at Tom’s kit bag I feel a deep sense of wanting to give up, to stay here and not do it anymore. Let them find someone else to be put at risk.

  With the skills we’ve learnt we could just go, get in the Saxon and drive off, find somewhere safe away from everyone else and have some peace. But then what kind of life would that be? How long before we got bored and fed up with each other’s company? When the banter grows stale and the grief and shock sets in from everything we’ve faced. I should be on the floor crying about Tom, weeping for the ones we’ve lost, having nightmares about Tucker and shooting Steven and holding McKinney in my arms as he died, watching Dave shed a tear over Jamie.

  Even last night, fighting alongside Paco Maguire and watching a hero die in battle, fighting to protect a dog. Even that should have tipped me over the edge but I don’t feel the grief. Instead there’s an icy fist clenched inside my stomach, something that wants me to destroy every undead I can find. Rip them apart and reap vengeance for every misery they’ve caused.

  ‘You okay Mr Howie?’ Dave’s voice penetrates my dark thoughts. I turn to face him, just the two of us alone in the room, everyone else outside getting ready to go.

  ‘Just thinking about Tom.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Dave,’ I ask as he goes to turn away, ‘I don’t feel…I…’ he stares back at me, his face devoid of expression, ‘I…just don’t feel…nothing, I don’t feel anything.’

  He shrugs, his eyes fixed on mine, ‘you will, just not the time for it now, you’ve got work to do Mr Howie.’ And with that he walks off. Leaving me alone and wondering why he has to be so bloody strange.

  Fifteen

  ‘Will you look at that,’ Randall exclaims. The inmates gather to the sides and behind him, staring at the open gates and the service road beyond. Randall turns to look at the building just a few metres away. Just round that corner they broke out and died, not knowing the open gates were right here.

  ‘Dumb ass motherfuckers,’ Randall sighs, shaking his head. Still, it meant more for him. Five hundred men running about would soon cause problems, but fifty was a far more manageable number. Enough to cause carnage and take what they needed, but not so many that couldn’t be controlled.

  Some of the inmates stand with eyes closed, reeling at what could have been. Knowing their mates died just yards away from freedom. The violence they brought on themselves doesn't factor into the thinking of the many, just a few realise the irony of it.

  Randall strides forward, a huge grin spreading across his face as he crosses the threshold of the gate. Two weeks ago he would never have thought this possible. With no chance of appeal, the murder he committed being witnessed by many other power-lifters, judges and officials, he knew he would see his days out in prison. Early parole for good behaviour just wasn’t possible for someone like Randall. His character and personality meant he would always be seeking confrontation. But this; walking out of a prison on a beautiful summer day with an army of tough mother-fucking inmates at his back was an indescribable feeling.

  ‘Which one of you crazy ass bitches knows the way to the closest town? I need me some pussy, some mother-fucking big ass, swollen titted pussy,’ he looks at the grinning men, noticing how exhausted they all look.

  ‘That way,’ one man steps forward pointing down the access road, ‘that goes t’ main road which leads t’ town,’ he adds in a strong northern accent.

  ‘What the fuck did he say?’

  ‘He said that road leads into the town,’ another inmate translates.

  ‘How you know that?’ Randall demands.

  ‘I kept having t’ go court, local like and that’s t’ way we went.’

  Randall glares at the man, trying to comprehend the accent.

  ‘He said they kept taking him back to court and that’s the way they went,’ the same inmate translates again.

  ‘Bitches, you hear that? This man knows the way to the mother-fucking town, he is my new best friend, even if I can’t understand a mother-fucking word he says,’ Randall laughs, draping a muscular arm over the man’s shoulders and pulling him in tight, ‘lead the way friend, lead the way.’

  ‘Okay,’ the man grins, embarrassed at the attention. They start walking down the road, a narrow double carriageway running between the two high walls of the prisons.

  ‘You think them nonces have got out yet Randall?’ One of the inmates calls out.

  ‘Nonces? You keep on saying that word and I don’t get it, you mean the mother-fucking rapists and such like, I hope for their sake they still inside jerking each other off cos I know what I’m gonna do if we meet them.’ His response gets more laughs, despite the common sexual practises within the prison, the utter hatred that mainstream inmates felt towards sex offenders was legendary, especially the hardened inmates serving life sentences who had nothing to lose and everything to gain from the prestige of killing a molester.

  ‘Hell, if I wasn’t so busting to get me some pussy I might go in there and fuck ‘em up,’ he adds to more laughing.

  They laugh and joke while rubbing sore knuckles and limping on feet still painful from stomping on faces and joints. All of them staring ahead at the end of the walls to where the ground opens out and the main road in the distance. The walls either side still give the effect of being enclosed, of being contained. They talk of the women they’ll fuck, the booze they’ll drink, the drugs they’ll take and the food they’ll eat. The reality of the apocalypse yet to h
it them.

  Reaching the end of walls they walk out into the open, headed by Randall holding his arms wide as a gesture of freedom.

  ‘Get back quick,’ someone mutters. The inmates come to a sudden stop, crouching down.

  ‘Get back, go back to the wall,’ Randall urges the men, pushing the ones closest to him. The men stagger back behind the line of the wall, pressing against it and staying quiet.

  ‘Who the fuck are they?’ Someone asks.

  ‘How the mother-fucking shit should I know,’ Randall snaps, ‘shut the fuck up and let me look,’ he drops down and crabs forward, inching out from the wall and staring across the ground. The wide grass area , dotted with trees and shrubs obscures his view but the size of the crowd is still clear. Thousands of people stood in front of the main gates of the sex offenders prison eerily all still and silent. No movement apart from two stood just in front of them a man and woman.

  Cursing under his breath at being so close he watches them intently, wondering what the hell such a large number of people are doing outside a prison when society was meant to have fallen.

  ‘What they doing?’ an inmate whispers hoarsely.

  ‘Just mother-fucking stood there,’ Randall whispers back, ‘fucking freaky motherfuckers,’ he adds more to himself.

  He watches as a small group break away from the crowd and stand closer to the man and woman. The distance being far, Randall can’t see the detail but just from the body language he can tell they’re talking, discussing something, all of them looking at the woman. He continues to stare, puzzled as some of them start raising and dropping their arms.

  ‘What they doing now?’ the inmate asks.

  ‘Man shut the fuck up and let me watch,’ Randall snaps. The inmate starts crabbing forward, dropping down at Randall’s side to watch next to him, ‘just what the fuck are you doing?’

  ‘Watching with you,’ the inmate replies.

  ‘Did I say you could watch with me? No I did not say you could watch with me, you are taking a mother-fucking liberty.’

  ‘Sorry Randy, you want me to go back?’

  ‘If I wanted you to go back I would mother-fucking say to go back, but I distinctly fucking remember not telling you to go back.’