by RR Haywood
‘Imagine that, poor bastards get through and land in the Pacific, they’d be fucked,’ Cookey shakes his head at the thought.
‘Refinery,’ Dave says, bringing the conversation back to where it should be.
‘Yeah the refinery, worth a go? Got to be I reckon…’
‘Try the docks first, if they’re negative then we go for that instead,’ Clarence suggests.
‘Hmmm, I’m in a mind to go straight there, we might be able to bring shit loads back, before anything happens to it,’ I reply.
‘Like what?’ He asks me.
‘Like some crazy bastard like Dave blowing it up, I’m joking,’ I add quickly as he starts to protest.
‘Shouldn’t they have people there all the time, to shut things down and stuff,’ Nick says, ‘it might go up on its own if they don’t switch stuff off.’
‘Well it hasn’t yet,’ Blowers replies.
‘How do you know?’ Cookey asks.
‘It’s a fucking refinery, we’d bloody see it…and feel it…and hear it…fuck me Cookey if they saw one from space then I’d think we’d know about it from like twenty miles away.’
‘Fair one, you’re still a twat though.’
‘We can take the motorway round Portsmouth and go straight there,’ Clarence says looking at the map, ‘it’s an easy enough route and we can avoid the city centres.’
‘That’s got to be better then, right, we’ll go for the refinery, everyone happy?’
‘The longer we’re away from the fucking fort the better,’ Blowers mutters.
‘Fact,’ Cookey adds.
Clarence guides me to the motorway as the lads settle down to their banter, but it feels different, almost forced. The shock from last night and then this morning has hit them hard, harder than anything yet. Losing Tom was bad enough, and then being called baby killers was the final touch.
The heat is intense again, incredibly it feels hotter than yesterday. A humid heat that saps energy and drains patience. Heat hazes hang above the road surface, creating shimmering patterns. Already the world is starting to feel alien and different. The roads are clear with defined boundaries but it seems different, devoid of life.
I lean forward trying to expel the heat building up between my back and the seat, my hands feel sweaty and greasy. We gain the motorway, building the speed up as we fly past signs for towns and villages, historical places of interest. In the distance are buildings, commercial properties with long flat roofs and small clusters of houses.
As the road lifts higher we catch glimpses of the sea, vast and blue. Glittering from the sun reflecting off the still surface. We pass junctions for towns that will simply fall to ruin after being looted and emptied of anything of use. If we do ever defeat the infected, or create a vaccine or cure then it will take years to re-build what we had. The over reliance on mass production, mass farming, mass everything have left us de-skilled for survival.
I think of my own life before this happened. I could use a computer easy enough, navigate the operating systems for work and leisure and like everyone I spent hours online, surfing the internet but not learning anything of use. I think back now to the time I spent watching video clips, reading random forums when I could have been learning about survival techniques, how to grow crops, make weapons, engine maintenance. But then, like everyone, I was wrapped up in a comfortable little bubble of existence. Thinking everything was safe. There were wars and international difficulties but never close to home and the doomsday prophets were all labelled as freaks.
We all thought it would be oil that caused an eventual collapse. It would run dry and everything would break apart, but not in our lifetime. We were safe, content. Go to work come home, eat food, see friends, go to work, come home, watch shit videos online, get drunk, go to work. Whole lives spent in state of being blinkered.
Now it’s all gone. The whole thing is fucked beyond repair. So many things I wished I did. Travelled and seen the world, broadened my horizons or whatever they call it. Spent more time with my family. That’s the biggest one. Of all the things that is the one that hurts the most. Still not knowing what happened to my mum and dad. They left their house to look for me and that’s it. Wiped out or turned into one of those evil rancid fucking things. Those things took everything we had, took all the good and made it shit and caused the suffering, the death and pain for so many millions. More than that, it must be billions by now. Every person on the planet must have been affected by this.
The fear my parents must have felt at realising what was happening and still being brave enough to go out into the collapsing world to try and find their son. Risking and ultimately losing their own lives in the process. They could have been killed by me or Dave. They could have been in the flatlands with Darren, cut down by the GPMG, or sniped by Jamie. Stabbed or hacked apart as they fought to take our flesh.
The thoughts spin through my mind. Some of the survivors in that fort would have had people they know on the flatlands. Their own children or parents, siblings even. Last night that mother held her child close, refusing to accept what was happening. No one could ever blame her, she was fighting for the life of her child and too frantic to know what was happening. The memory of the child’s head blowing apart from the bullet flashes through my mind. A split second action done amongst many others but that image is burnt in forever. The mother screaming as I shot the girl, her face as I pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger. Her face already coated with blood from the first shot.
The faces that went white with fear as I pointed the pistol at them, the wide eyed looks of disbelief, shock and terror. The anguish of last night is etched into my soul. We’ve seen worse, we all have. We’ve all killed undead children before without a flicker of emotion but the fort was meant to be our safe place. It wasn’t our job to keep it secure. They had guards with guns that should have been there, ready to deal with anything at the gate. They fucked up, they caused this and we had to respond to deal with their mistake and then…then we get hung out to dry for it.
‘Boss,’ Clarence’s deep voice penetrates my thoughts. I snap back and realise my hands are gripping the wheel, knuckle white from the pressure and my right foot pressing harder to the floor. The massive engine screaming as the speed builds faster and faster.
I ease up, gently lifting my foot and letting the vehicle slow to a steady pace. Looking over I see Clarence staring at me, a concerned look on his face.
‘Sorry mate,’ I mutter. He nods before turning his head to look down at the map stretched out on his lap.
I feel angry at the injustice of it, that we’re being blamed for something they should have prevented. Anger at having to be at those meetings justifying our actions when we should be pushing forward and getting things done.
Fucked up. This is all fucked up. How much worse can it get?
Twenty-Three
They say that childhood shapes who you are and who you become. They say those years are the most important for development of the mind. The people around you should nurture you and guide you to become a good person. I was fucked from the start.
My daddy was a mean son of a bitch. Drinking, whoring, gambling, fighting. He did it all. He did it all and he did it hard. He whupped my ass every week. Sometimes the bruises were so bad I couldn’t sit down for days in a row. No one cared, no one gave a shit. That was life and you got on with it.
South Central LA was a steaming pot of gangs forming, splitting apart, re-forming, ground taken and territory marked out. Every kid had to prove himself to be in a gang and the violence exploded on every street.
I grew up in that violence. It was all I ever knew. At home with my daddy, at school with the teachers, on the streets with my buddies. Violence was a way of life, a natural instinct brought out by the necessity of survival.
Some escaped through education but they were rare. Most lived their lives by what the gangs said they could and couldn’t do.
I was lucky. I got into weight training to g
et big so my daddy wouldn’t whup me no more. My body was built for it with strong joints. I ate everything I could get without complaint. The bigger men saw what I was and trained me until I got big. Then one day my daddy didn’t whup me no more. The busted nose and jaw I gave him saw to that.
From that day I swore no motherfucker would whup me. Not ever. I got big, freaky fucking big and freaky fucking strong. My life was in the gym, hours every day, every week, every month. Lifting and lifting. Pushing weight and growing like a motherfucker.
My size got me in fights and I went into the pen when I was just a boy. That’s where I learned how to lift like the inmates lift. Heavy weights and a solid regime. Disciplined and strong.
My life went into power lifting. Blasting through local and regional competitions and destroying ever motherfucker that stood against me. I was unstoppable, a mother-fucking real life superman. I broke records for bench press and bicep strict curl again and again.
Then I came to this fucking country. This stupid, dumb-ass, mother-fucking, backwards country and some young punk whupped my ass. The flight had fucked me up. The jet lag, the change of air, the different food, the cold and damp all fucked me up so when I lifted I knew I wasn’t doing well. That punk beat me fair and square which I could take. But taunting me like I’m some mother-fucking bitch…well I swore no motherfucker would do that to me. I snapped and beat the fucker to death with a dumbbell. Driving that fucking weight through his head until his mother-fucking brains came out. He wasn’t the first motherfucker I killed but he was the first time I had a room full of fucking witnesses.
Ten fucking years I spent in that prison. That old dirty stinking fucking hole. Surrounded by dumb motherfuckers and missing my own people every fucking day. Because I was American, because I was black, because I was big everyone wanted a piece of me. So I had to fight and I did fight. I whupped more ass in that hell hole than I ever did on the streets.
Those memories flood through my head as I lay dying on the dirty street. That young punk’s head exploding from the dumbbell bursting his head apart. The people I’d fucked up and hurt. The looks on their faces when they knew they were done. Those things came into my mind.
The pain was more than I ever felt before. I been stabbed, shanked, beaten and shot but nothing comes close to what went through my gut. Thousands of nails digging into my insides. Broken glass moving through my veins. I fought against it. I refused to submit and gave it every mother-fucking thing I could.
But it took me. The darkness came down and I knew I was done for. This was the end. My heart slowed, my breathing got harder. Everything shut down, eyes gone, hearing gone, all feeling gone.
So be it. Fuck it. Fuck all of ya.
But I ain’t dead, or at least I ain’t dead now. If I was dead I wouldn’t be aware of still lying in this mother-fucking street. Except there ain’t no pain now, no pain at all. There ain’t nothing. Just a feeling of peace like I ain’t never known before, like I want to lie here forever.
It changes. The peace goes. Hunger is there now. I am mother-fucking hungry, more hungry than I ever was. Dead people don’t get hungry. Dead people don’t feel a mother-fucking empty feeling in their stomachs to eat.
I’m alive motherfucker. I sit up, feeling the strength in the abdominal muscles as they flex. My arms feel bigger and stronger than ever before. I open my eyes and see the death around me. A strong smell that I know is blood, but its mixed with shit and piss too. I never smelt nothing so strong before.
Bodies everywhere. A thick fucking trail of them going back to the back door of that store we busted through. My arms are fucking huge. The muscles are standing proud, pushing the veins out. Holy shit I feel strong. Stronger than fucking Samson with his mother-fucking hair. Like fucking Schwarzenegger from the first Predator movie.
Motherfucker this is the best I ever felt. I am fucking superhuman. My legs push me up so I’m standing. Clenching my fists to tense my forearms, knots of muscle bulging under my skin.
The power in me is fucking awesome. My shoulders are buzzing, I roll them round feeling the muscles flex and relax. I move my head side to side as popping noises sound out. I truly ain’t never felt this good.
Thought I was dead. Thought I was fucking gone and shit, but I ain’t gone nowhere. I’m right here, standing proud. Those things are still here. The dumb-ass fucking things that took me down. Fucking red eyes all staring at me and shit.
‘Which one of you fuckers tried to kill me? I ain’t never gonna get whupped, not ever…’ I walk over at ‘em, the things don’t try and attack me now. I’m too fucking strong now. Something else, something different. I don’t wanna hurt them none. But they whupped me down so I gotta fuck ‘em up but I don’t want to. They staring at me looking all sorry and shit. They didn’t mean no harm, they just hungry is all. Dumb motherfuckers just wanted some food, be wrong to beat on them now.
Guess I must be one of them. Must be, they ain't trying to attack me and I know I got bit, I still got the marks on my arms and neck. I got bit and went down. Now I’m up and they ain’t doing shit but staring at me. I must be one of them. Only I ain’t one of them, I’m me.
Movement, Colin sitting up looking all weird. His eyes are red like the things. For the first time I don’t wanna whup his ass anymore. The other prisoners sit up too. All of them with red eyes and staring at me.
We all been bit, we all like these motherfuckers now. But I can speak and think same as I used to. Fuck, better than I used to. My mind is clear, no pain anywhere, just feel like a strong motherfucker.
‘Get up,’ Colin looks at me. Dumb fucker just stares so I tell him again, ‘get up.’ He listens that time and stands up. ‘You speak too?’
‘Yes,’ his dumb-ass replies with his stupid head bobbing up and down like some puppy dog. Only he ain’t no stupid puppy dog, he’s one of my kind now.
‘You all speak?’ Couple say yes, some just stand there saying fuck all. They all staring at me like I did something special. Not just the prisoners but all the things too.
My mind fills with thoughts I ain’t never had before. No, that’s wrong, they ain’t thoughts but a feeling, like a sense of something.
Control.
That’s it. I feel control. All up on these motherfuckers. I ain’t no telepathic freaky fucker but I can sense them, in my mind.
These queer motherfuckers looking at me like they in love or some shit. Fucking fag motherfuckers. But it ain’t love like they wanna blow me or shit, but love like they wanna worship me. Like I’m a god.
Yeah bitches, like a god. That’s how I feel; like a mother-fucking god. All powerful and shit, like those Viking gods with the big arms and big beards, only I ain’t no white Viking motherfucker.
I’m nodding my head, grinning at them. They looking back at me all full of love. Holy shit my arms ain’t never felt this big before. My legs too, they feel all pumped and massive, like I just did a fucking dose of roids.
Fuck that hunger is strong. So mother-fucking strong it makes my mouth get all filled with spit. I need to eat, only I don’t wanna eat no chicken or steak. I got something else on my mind. Something I ain’t never wanted to do before.
‘Goddam I feel good, you feel this good?’
‘Yeah Randy,’ Colin grins back at me, he’s a good man Colin. He’s my buddy, we go way back me and Colin. Damn I love that dumb-ass bitch. I love all these bitches.
Where the fuck were we going? Fuck yeah, we’s going to that fort where all the fine bitches is at. Man, I could do with some fine bitch now with some big juicy titties. I’d fucking eat those juicy titties. I wanna feast on them juicy titties. I wanna fuck ‘em and feast on ‘em at the same mother-fucking time. Fine bitches and men too. I ain’t no queer but I wanna eat them fella’s just as much as them bitches. Hell, right now I’d bite their fucking cocks if I could. I’d suck on them hairy balls and bite the shit out of ‘em.
That big house is just back aways. We could go there and get us some eating but fu
ck, they just a few there and I heard that fort got thousands inside. That’s what we want; thousands of people to bite and suck on.
‘We need a mother-fucking boat, holy shit Harry you look like some scary motherfucker with that big ass beard and them eyes all red and shit.’ He don’t say nothing back but just stares like he always did.
‘Which way the coast?’ I ask the question and Harry just points behind me. I turn round but don’t see shit, just the end of the road and some big white building.
‘What the fuck am I looking at?’ Then it hits me. The big white building ain’t no building at all, it’s a mother-fucking big ass boat is what it is. ‘Holy fuck, that’s the god-damn strangest fucking thing,’ the boat is moored to the end of the road, just right there at the end of the street.
I start off in that direction, my eyes fixed on the boat. Big and white with a black chimney thing sticking out the top. I didn’t see the chimney on account of the black sky an’ all. A big parking lot is next to the road, that must be where the cars wait before they get on. The lot’s empty now, ain’t no fucker here but us.
There being a boat there an’ all, then that must be the water edge, so figures there’ll be more boats round here. As much as I like big things, like my mother-fucking arms, I don’t fancy takin’ no boat that size. Hell, we’ll probably sink the thing and it gotta be complicated as fuck to make it move.
My boys follow me down to the edge, walking past the big boat and moving further down. It looks like a big fucking river mouth going in towards the land. The open dark sea on one side and shit loads of boats tied up on the other side.
We can’t walk along the water edge all the way on account on some dumb-fuck putting buildings in the way, so we gotta detour round as we work down the river. My fella’s and them things that killed us following behind all meek as you please.
All of us smell it at the same time. That smell of blood, only this is different. It’s human blood. Now I know I only just got bit and shit, but that’s what it is; human blood. There's fear in that smell too, strong fear. We all stop and sniff the air, turning our heads this way and that. Ain’t no breeze, no wind or nothing. The air is sticky and hot as fuck.