The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Damn right I don’t like it, I’m going to speak to everyone here and see what they think.’

  ‘What all these people,’ I ask motioning towards the vast array of tents.

  ‘Bloody right, let’s see what they think…if you want a democracy Howie then you’ll get a proper one.’

  ‘Fine, that’s fine but don’t you think they’ve suffered enough without you canvassing them for support like some fucking politician…Debbie this is going too far, you’re out of control…get a grip…’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, how dare you say I’m out of control…forty people Howie…who killed the forty people last night?’

  ‘They were infected,’ I sigh, this is futile, completely pointless, ‘look, we’re going for fuel, do what you want okay, ask everyone, go and speak to every last person here if it makes you happy.’

  ‘Oh I bloody will,’ she shouts, her voice carrying easily to the people nearest in the tent area, they turn to look, listening intently, ‘Go on Howie, go and kill another forty innocent people, go and shoot some more babies while you’re out there…murder obviously means nothing to you.’

  Her words stop me in my tracks, a terrible feeling flushes through me, a deep fury that threatens to burst me apart. The rear doors slam open as the lads burst out, all of them charging towards Sergeant Hopewell still screaming at the top of her voice.

  Dave runs after them, shouting loudly for them to stand down and get back inside. Blowers looks furious, his face contorted with rage, ‘we ain't murderers,’ he shouts as Lani and Nick start dragging him back.

  ‘Delinquent murderers,’ Sergeant Hopewell screams. Clarence drops down, grabbing hold of Cookey as he runs past, lifting him off the ground to move him back.

  ‘They were infected, infected….they were infected,’ Cookey wails.

  ‘You killed children, you’re murderers,’ Sergeant Hopewell screeches, Terri runs at her, grabbing at her arm and getting pushed back.

  ‘Debbie,’ Ted walks forward, trying to call her back.

  ‘Tom wasn’t infected…you murdered him, you murdered all of them.’

  Terri shouts for her to stop, Ted tries pulling her gently away. Sarah steps in, trying to help Ted. They all get screamed at as Debbie continues to rage at us, hundreds of people moving closer to listen and watch. I glance round seeing their hostile faces watching us.

  ‘Get inside the Saxon now,’ I bark. Dave grabs Blowers, pulling him harshly back. Clarence carries Cookey bodily, launching him into the back but I can see even his face is filled with fury. Lani and Nick pause for a second, both of them staring at Sergeant Hopewell with dark faces.

  ‘Delinquent murderers…baby killers…’ she screeches, her voice cracking with the strain. She gets flooded by bodies all dragging her away but the damage is done. By the time we’re in the vehicle, with Clarence stood at the back doors preventing the lads from getting back out, the camp are there, faces watching us as we drive through. No smiles this time, no friendly nods or waves. Just plain hostility, we’re the bad guys, the monsters that killed their families and children.

  ‘Fuck this place, I don’t ever want to come back here,’ Blowers rages, ‘we fucking killed for them…we lost our mates for them…’

  ‘Simon sit down,’ Dave orders him. He complies, anyone would with Dave shouting at them, but he does it reluctantly.

  ‘They were infected,’ Cookey says softly, ‘they were…I saw the bite marks…’

  ‘Alex stop it,’ Dave snaps, ‘they were infected and they would have killed everyone, you all did the right thing…listen to me,’ his voice grows larger, the tone impossible to ignore, ‘have you ever seen me doing anything wrong? Have you?’ He demands.

  ‘No Dave,’ Cookey answers.

  ‘I killed more of them than you, I killed far more than any of you…they were all infected…they were bitten and would have killed everyone, you did the right thing.’

  ‘You did,’ Clarence adds, ‘there was no doubt.’

  ‘Why she saying that then?’ Cookey asks, his voice breaking with emotion, ‘we didn’t kill no babies…’

  ‘I did, I shot a baby and it’s mother,’ I shout back as I navigate the vehicle through the gates.

  Silence returns my words, nothing said for a few seconds. ‘The baby was bitten, the mother was clinging onto it, she wouldn’t let go…the baby bit her neck, I shot both of them.’

  ‘Shit…but if they were turned then why she saying all that?’ Cookey asks, I glance round to see tears falling down his face.

  ‘Cookey, she’s upset…she’s having an emotional breakdown, she’s done well to do everything she’s done but losing Tom and Steven have tipped her over the edge,’ Lani speaks softly, her voice so soothing to hear.

  ‘Yeah but…calling us murderers…and everyone looking at us like that,’ Cookey replies.

  ‘Come here,’ Lani moves to sit next to him, he bursts into tears, sobbing as she holds him close. Nick stares down at the floor, tears of his own falling onto his boots.

  ‘Come on son, you’ve done nothing wrong,’ Clarence drops into the seat the other side of Cookey, placing a giant hand on the lad’s shoulder.

  My own eyes sting with hot tears as I listen to Cookey sob. Blowers and Nick both stay silent as Clarence rumbles away in his deep voice.

  ‘Lads I’m proud of you, I’ve served all over the world, Dave too…and I’ve never been prouder than I am to serve with you, these things happen okay? People lose it and sometimes the wrong people get blamed but Chris is back there, Sarah too…and they’ll put everyone straight.’

  ‘Yeah but…’ Cookey starts.

  ‘No buts son,’ Clarence cuts him off gently, ‘Chris is brilliant at this kind of thing, he always was…you heard us arguing back there but we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Like you three always taking the piss, that’s me and Chris but I trust that man with my life and he’ll get this sorted. And Mr Howie is the best boss I’ve ever worked for, there’s no one better to follow with all this going on…’

  ‘You’re only saying that cos you fancy my sister,’ I reply quickly to a snort of laughter from someone.

  ‘Was it that obvious?’ He replies with a chuckle.

  ‘Glaringly,’ I call back, ‘someone want to grab the map and tell me where I’m going?’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Nick replies.

  ‘You can’t read,’ Cookey quips with a sniff.

  ‘Words not maps you dickhead,’ Nick replies.

  ‘What about the words on the maps?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘Fuck it, I’ll just make it up,’ Nick says.

  ‘Fuck that, we’ll end up in Scotland,’ Blowers says.

  ‘Or he’ll set something on fire again,’ Cookey adds.

  ‘Piss off…that was an accident, do you wanna do it then?’

  ‘Nah I get sick if I read in a car.’

  ‘Me too,’ Cookey says.

  Nick grabs the map, opening the pages and staring at them for a few seconds, ‘what does that word say?’ He asks.

  ‘That says map,’ Blowers answers.

  ‘What about this one?’

  ‘That says atlas,’ he replies.

  ‘Fuck this is going well,’ Cookey says.

  ‘I’m joking,’ Nick smiles, ‘where did you say we’re going?’

  ‘Ted said to try the docklands, they should have fuel for the ships,’ I call back.

  ‘Docklands…’ Nick repeats leafing through the pages…’er…how do you spell docklands?’

  Nineteen

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’

  ‘Quite sure,’ she pauses, staring at the clear blue sky, feeling the sultry heat of the air against her skin, ‘yes, quite sure.’

  ‘This is not the only option open to you Marcy, there is the option of staying here and continuing with the highly successful method we have thus far established.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘And then, well, we continue to gather
more.’

  ‘So we exhaust the Island, turn every human and then once complete we leave and start on a different shore, moving from village to town to city.’

  ‘That is an option.’

  ‘And then what Reginald? Once we’ve turned thousands, or millions…what then?’

  ‘I…we…’ he drops into silence, the only urge he has is to keep going, turn more, get more, take more, the all-consuming hunger driving his thought process, ‘I see,’ he says at length, ‘yes I see…once we have turned everyone we have no further…er…well that is to say we cannot continue, well I…’

  ‘Reginald, the infection has programmed us to desire gathering more hosts but eventually there will be no more hosts, or the few survivors left will organise and co-operate into fighting back on such scale that we all suffer.’

  ‘The futility of mankind,’ Reginald sighs.

  ‘The futility of existence without progression, the futility of just being without advancement.’

  ‘There were tribes in the Amazon rain forests that had lived unchanged for thousands of years, while all around empires rose and fell they continued in near state of stasis,’ Reginald says.

  ‘Yes and they were content until someone showed them what they could have, once that rot set in they were doomed. I saw the documentaries too Reggie, I saw the people sat by the side of the river talking about how they long to be left alone to continue their existence in the way they had done, but I also saw they were wearing jeans and t-shirts, baseball caps and using boats with outboard engines.’

  ‘So if we continue we become that tribe, content to do what we’ve always done.’

  ‘Always,’ Marcy scoffs, ‘this just happened, like less than two weeks ago. Look at the world now in those few days, it’s near collapse…but if we do the right thing now we can turn this devastation into the most wonderful event that mankind has ever known. This is the future Reginald. The planes are sat on the tarmac waiting to be used, the hospitals are still there, the fire engines are still in place, the whole infrastructure is ready to be taken back up but by a species that appreciates it…’

  ‘Us,’ Reginald says matter of fact.

  ‘Yes, us, we’re that species…’

  ‘So you’re convinced this is the correct course of action?’

  ‘Unequivocally.’

  ‘Good word,’ he remarks, ‘I would say you are unerring in your beliefs.’

  ‘My mind is unencumbered.’

  ‘Many would find your position unenviable Marcy.’

  ‘On the contrary Reginald, I find my position unequalled.’

  ‘I would go so far as to say your view is understandable, and that your methods have become quite understated, while some might argue that I have become your understudy I would suggest that I have been unfailing in my loyalty to you, I am unexpurgated in my regard for you. Which has grown from seeing you become unflinching and unflappable. However, I have great concerns that the humans at the fort will find you unfathomable but I would expect you will be unfazed in your response to their unfavourable treatment towards you. I shall watch these events unfold, for they are unforeseen and truly unforgettable, indeed the humans will consider our actions so far as unforgivable which is unfortunate, and if they only take the time to understand you they will see their fear is unfounded, that we are not an ungodly species who are unhinged and ungovernable. If they allow you to explain uninterrupted and unfurl your plan, they will see their ungainly actions have been unnecessary for we only seek to unify our species in a unique union which is uninhibited and unlimited in its desire to become a unity…’

  ‘Reginald,’ she snaps him back to the present.

  ‘Sorry,’ he shakes his head, ‘I used to do that a lot in my former life, it really was quite unfortunate for those around me, ‘so we are going to the fort then?’ he asks cheerfully.

  ‘Yes Reggie.’

  ‘Can we not arrange transport? We are in the middle of the Island and it is rather a long way to the north coast, plus we’ve already walked this way once you know.’

  ‘And how do you propose we do that? Getting a couple of thousand zombies into cars, or shall we use the bus?’

  ‘Not the zed word please, can you not get them to drive?’

  ‘No Reggie, willing hundreds of them to drive would make my head explode probably…it doesn't work like that.’

  ‘On foot then,’ he sighs, ‘I always did hate walking, was never my thing you know…’

  ‘Never mind Reggie, the fresh air will do you good, get some colour to your cheeks.’

  They walk on, Marcy and Reginald side by side leading a long drawn out line of undead headed by the ever watchful communicators. The conversation between them continues, with opinion, counter opinion, argument, counter argument, discussion and counter discussion. Reginald probing continually but with respect and patience. Doing as told by Marcy by taking the opposing view to make her think of all the options and avenues of thought.

  The intense heat saps at the horde, they should be shuffling slowly and conserving energy for the coming night. Instead, Marcy keeps them at a solid pace, intent on getting back to the north side before nightfall.

  They discuss the future, of how the species could enable mankind to progress far more than ever before. On the main road they follow the route of Randall until they reach the roundabout, the midway point between the centre and the north.

  ‘We should take the left road,’ Reginald says as they approach the junction.

  ‘Why the left road? The road we came in on leads us to the north shore, we need the north shore to get across to Portsmouth.’

  ‘And how do you propose we do that? Where will we find boats for our few thousand living challenged? The left road does take us to the north shore, albeit further from the proposed destination but it is also the port of the vehicular ferry which is of a size capable of transporting our group.’

  ‘You want to us the car ferry?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just say that?’

  ‘I did, and further it will enable us to increase the size of our retinue.’

  ‘We just discussed the futility of increasing our group until we have a future, that drive you feel is the infection within you.’

  ‘But if we are passing through the town then we might as well gather a few more,’ he pleads, unable to contain the urge.

  ‘For a start it won’t be we, you haven’t turned anyone yet, and why cause more misery and suffering if we’re unsure of how our future lies.’

  ‘But what if they’re already suffering Marcy? They could be dying from illness and disease right now, the infection can save them…you said that yourself.’

  ‘Low blow Reggie,’ she laughs.

  ‘But a valid point nonetheless.’

  ‘Okay, yes a valid point, we’ll go your way if it makes my little Reggie happy.’

  ‘Reginald.’

  Taking the new route they lead the horde down the wide tarmac, the ever present heat shimmer taunting them mercilessly as it hovers over the blacktop. The route is easy enough, a wide road that meanders through fields and meadows. Sun dappled shade offers a brief respite from the sun from tall trees bordering the road.

  They lapse into a comfortable silence. Marcy lost in thoughts and recent memories of Darren, his wild reckless nature leading so many to their needless deaths. Imagining if she’d been in charge she could have discussed things with Howie, maybe reached a mutual conclusion that satisfied them both. But no, that was then and she was just as bloodthirsty as Darren then. She felt the power he had and wanted it, it was only by his failure that she understood this better way.

  She would have failed too. Darren had to die the way he did for all of this to happen. Many events happening in a set order led her to this time, take any one of the events away and maybe she would never have reached this conclusion.

  ‘I thought I could smell something,’ Marcy says a couple of hours later as they reach the bend in the
junction and look through the broken gates to the carnage caused by the Mercedes obliterating the guard hut. ‘Looks fresh too,’ she adds, spying the blood soaked body lying on the grass.

  ‘Are we going in?’ Reginald prompts, seeing the urge crossing her face.

  ‘Yes, I think we shall,’ she replies quietly, eyes fixed on the corpse. They enter the grounds, Marcy and Reginald heading across the lane to step through the wreckage and examine the body.

  ‘He’s still warm,’ Marcy says, holding her hand to the bodies face.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘Quite dead,’ she nods, ‘shame. What’s up there?’

  ‘Osborne House, you must have been here before,’ Reginald replies.

  ‘No, I heard about it, Queen Victoria’s house wasn’t it?’

  ‘You’ve never been here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you from the Island?’

  ‘Yes Reginald and no, I’ve never been here…this is for tourists and I couldn’t afford the entrance fee either.’

  ‘Well. We’re here now, you really should see the main house. The architecture is sublime, you know Prince Albert designed it himself, it was said he missed the view of Naples in Italy which is why they decided on this location, has a view of the bay you know…and he designed it in the style of an Italian Renaissance Palazzo…’ He walks off in full flow, Marcy walking to catch up with the vast crowd walking slowly behind them.

  ‘The grounds are incredible and were also designed by Prince Albert, he truly was a very remarkable man in many respects and Victoria was devoted to him…’

  Marcy listens patiently as Reginald plunders on, giving a full history of the house, the grounds, the history and how a Swiss cottage was brought over from Switzerland.

  ‘There you see,’ Reginald beams as the main residence come into view, Marcy makes polite appreciative noises, nodding in the right places as he carries on with his flow of information.

  ‘Oh…’ his voice drops off as they enter the courtyard. Coming to a halt at the sight of the hole in the main door, bits of wood strewn across the gravel driveway and the body of an old man lying a few feet out.