The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Yes Dave?’

  ‘You’re making the first brews for being a snitch.’

  ‘What? Okay…Sorry Dave.’

  ‘Ha, that fucked you up.’

  ‘Fuck off Blowers…I’m gonna rim your coffee mug.’

  ‘I’ve been doing yours everyday…didn’t you notice?’

  ‘I thought it tasted familiar!’

  ‘Dirty bastard…do you want cheese with your tea?’

  ‘Urgh no! That’s disgusting…pack it in you two.’

  ‘Sorry Lani.’

  ‘Sorry Lani.’

  ‘Blowers…why are you saying sorry over the radio? She’s sat opposite you.’

  ‘Er…good point…I don’t know why I did that.’

  ‘Ha…I know what we can do….I spy with my little eye something beginning with…R.’

  ‘Cookey…we’re not playing eye spy.’

  ‘You have to play eye spy on a road trip Blowers…It’s the rules.’

  ‘Road.’

  ‘No Dave, not road.’

  ‘River.’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Rivets.’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Rectangle.’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Riding.’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Radio.’

  ‘Yay…Dave wins…your turn Dave.’

  ‘K’

  ‘You have to say the words.’

  ‘I don’t want to say the words Mr Howie.’

  ‘It’s the rules… you have to say the words.’

  ‘The boss is right Dave, you’ve got to say the words.’

  ‘Okay Clarence…I spy with my little eye something beginning with K.’

  ‘Knife!’

  ‘No Mr Howie.’

  ‘Bugger, I would have put money on that.’

  ‘Knee.’

  ‘No Lani.’

  ‘Key.’

  ‘No Simon.’

  ‘Kissing?’

  ‘No Alex.’

  ‘Kite?’

  ‘Where can you see a kite or kissing Cookey?’

  ‘Fuck off Blowers….Catapult…’

  ‘That’s with a C.’

  ‘Oh…sorry Dave.’

  ‘Thick fucker…’

  ‘Piss off Blowers, you have a try then.’

  ‘Er…knapsack?’

  ‘No Simon.’

  ‘Lillian said knot.’

  ‘No Lani but a good guess.’

  ‘Not begins with N.’

  ‘Knot you thick wanker…like tie a knot…’

  ‘Oh yeah…your still a dick Blowers.’

  ‘Knuckle.’

  ‘No Clarence.’

  ‘Oh…Knives!’

  ‘Yes Lani…well done.’

  ‘I said knives.’

  ‘You didn’t Mr Howie, you said knife.’

  ‘You did say knife boss.’

  ‘Bloody tight if you ask me.’

  ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with B.’

  ‘Boobs.’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Breasts.’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Bazoingas.’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Baps?’

  ‘Alex!’

  ‘Sorry Dave…’

  ‘Blowers?’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Bright.’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Brown?’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Black.’

  ‘No Dave.’

  ‘Beige.’

  ‘It’s not a colour Dave.’

  ‘Burgundy…oh it’s not a colour.’

  ‘No Clarence.’

  ‘Blackbirds?’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Bums?’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Bottoms?’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Butts?’

  ‘No Cookey.’

  ‘Bumholes.’

  ‘Ha, no Cookey.’

  ‘Alex…’

  ‘Sorry Dave.’

  ‘Boots.’

  ‘Dave wins!’

  ‘Almost home…shit…is that Meredith? What’s she doing outside? Clarence, it looks like Meredith is on the road…’

  ‘Roger that boss…who she with?’

  ‘Too far to see, just a small group…they’re running at us.’

  ‘Pull over, we’ll make ready.’

  ‘Roger….switch on and make ready…this ain’t right…’

  Thirty-Five

  She lets the boy pull her through the gate. She wants to be released to kill the things but she knows her place is with the little one. She must stay with the little one.

  They cross the inner alley to the outer gate and she waits as the boy pulls the bolts back with shaky hands. She can hear him crying and the fear in him is great.

  Passing through she stays at his side as he starts to run. The words from Chris strong in his mind as he breaks into a sprint.

  She keeps pace with him. Running faster and faster. The boy pumps his arms, loosening his grip to let the lead play out longer. Eyes blurred from the tears but he keeps his head up, stretching his stride out as his running coach told him at school. He tries to breathe properly like he was taught, but the crying has upset his rhythm and he gets knocked out of sync.

  Run and keep running. Don’t look back. Find Howie.

  The boy fulfils the order. He runs like the wind with fear driving him on. The heat starts to work at him, he gasps for breath but keeps going. Chris told him to run and keep running. No matter what happens; keep running.

  His legs pump as his feet fly over the rough road. His slim frame powering along as the tears continue to fall. Past the embankments and into the flatlands, his stride is open and easy.

  She glances up at him, seeing the wetness round his eyes. Something she’s seen many times recently. She looks ahead at the figures in the distance. They don’t concern her. Just a few of them that she can kill with ease if they pose a threat.

  The running feels good. Her legs opening up and stretching. She breathes easily, enjoying the rush of air over her face.

  A scent wafts to her nose, a faint smell caught on the warm currents of air gently rolling over the flatlands. That smell. But the things are behind them. Not in front.

  The smell grows stronger. She fixes her eyes on the figures now getting closer. It’s them. The smell is coming from them.

  She slows down, the boy yanks at the lead to drive her on. He doesn't know what they are. She can’t let him run into them. She braces her feet and slows more.

  ‘Come on,’ the boys yells with a sob.

  She makes noise. Warning him of the danger.

  ‘Please come on,’ the boy sobs and yanks at the lead.

  She stops dead and refuses to budge, showing her teeth and growling at the things coming closer.

  ‘We’ve got to keep running,’ the boy cries harder, frustrated at being stopped by the dog. He wipes the tears from his eyes and looks up to see a group of people walking towards them. Three women and a man. They look kind, two beautiful young women, an old woman and a small man wearing glasses and a tucked in shirt.

  Meredith cocks her head. The energy from them is different. They smell of the things. They are the things. But not the same things. She growls deeply and watches closely. The hunger in them is different. They don’t want to eat the little one.

  Unsure, she keeps her eyes fixed on them and stands her ground. She shows teeth so they know who she is. She makes herself big so they don’t attack. Look at me. Look at my size. I am strong and I will destroy you.

  Marcy watched closely as the boy came out of the fort and started running down the central road. She could see just from his manner that something wasn’t right. He was fleeing from something.

  He left the gate open behind him too, surely not something done with such an important place.

  ‘Maybe he’s a messenger? Come to ask what we want,’ Reginal
d suggested as they watched the boy.

  ‘Why the dog though?’

  ‘I don’t know Marcy, maybe it’s his pet.’

  Marcy watches as the boy runs closer, then the dog starts to pull back. Her eyes flick between the dog and the boy. Looking at the size of the animal now growling and showing her teeth.

  ‘He’s crying,’ Reginald observes.

  ‘Hey,’ Marcy calls out, ‘what’s wrong?’ She looks with concern at the boy. He’s clearly running from something and sobbing heavily as he pulls the dog to keep moving. He sobs harder, tears running freely down his face. His narrow chest rising and falling as he gasps for air.

  ‘Are you okay?’ She softens her tone. Her words seem to spark a reaction in him, the soft tone or the non-threatening appearance of the group.

  He pulls the dog harder, coaxing her to keep going. She does so reluctantly, taking small steps but keeping her eyes fixed on the group.

  The boy cries out with fear and frustration and simply drops the lead to run at Marcy. She drops down into a crouch and catches him as he runs in and wraps his arms round her neck. His tears wetting her cheeks as he sobs and sobs.

  She rubs his back soothingly, feeling him shaking from head to toe. The dog moves slowly forward, getting ready to leap at the first sign of aggression. She keeps her eyes fixed on Marcy. Lips pulled back showing her huge canine teeth with that deep bass growl grumbling from her throat.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Marcy repeats softly.

  Meredith watches. They stink of the things but the energy is completely different. There is no sense of the predator in them. The man in the group even emits a sense of fear as he backs away from the dog, nervously rubbing his hands.

  The female holding the little one makes soft noises, the same soft noises her pack leaders used to make to her little one.

  ‘They’re….they….’ the boy sobs harder… ‘Howie…got to….’

  ‘Ssshh, take your time,’ Marcy says, ‘calm down and get your breath…take your time…everything will be okay.’

  ‘Howie…got….gone…all gone…’

  ‘Who’s gone? What about Howie? Take your time and try to breath normally.’ Marcy keeps on with the soft words, gently bringing the boy down into a state of calm. His breathing eases from near hyper-ventilation to mere gasps. He clings to Marcy’s neck, too afraid to let go.

  ‘That’s better,’ Marcy smiles, ‘now try again.’

  The boy takes a deep breath and eases himself from the crook of Marcy’s neck, ‘Sorry…I made you wet,’ he says weakly.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Here,’ Reginald holds out his cotton handkerchief. She takes it and wipes her neck before telling the boy to close his eyes. She starts cleaning his face, gently wiping the tears away.

  ‘What’s happened?’ She asks as she dabs at his cheeks.

  ‘The things got inside…the zombies…they were killing everyone and …and…Chris said I had to take the dog and get out…he said I had to find Howie and tell him not to go back…he said run and don’t look back and keep running until I find Howie…he said to tell Clarence…’

  ‘Slow down, Marcy says, forcing her tone to be calm, her hand frozen above his face, ‘say that again.’

  ‘The zombies are inside,’ the boy repeats, ‘they’re killing everyone…Chris told me to get the dog out and run and find Howie…Howie is like our leader…he kills all the…’

  ‘I know Howie,’ Marcy cuts him off, ‘and Dave yes? And Cookey and Blowers…’ She repeats the names Darren had told her.

  Naming them seems to revive the boy, he takes the handkerchief and uses it to blow his nose. Reginald grimacing at the destruction of his last one.

  The boy wipes his eyes again and looks up at Marcy. His mouth drops open as he looks into her eyes. The blood visibly drains from his face, he looks to the others and sees the same red bloodshot eyes staring back at him.

  ‘Take it easy,’ Marcy says softly, ‘we’re not going to hurt you okay…we’re not the same as the others…’

  ‘But,’ he takes a step away, his eyes flicking to each of them.

  ‘Young man,’ Mildred says kindly, ‘if we wanted to hurt you we would have done it by now, this lady is called Marcy, my name is Mildred and this is Reginald and April.’ The others nod in greeting, keeping their faces neutral.

  ‘You're zombies,’ he says dumbly.

  ‘Kind of, but not the same as the others,’ Marcy replies, ‘why have you got to get the dog out?’

  The boy hesitates, suddenly unsure if to tell them of her importance. The woman seems so calm and kind. They all do. And the old lady was right, they could have taken him several times by now.

  ‘Okay…you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,’ Marcy adds after a pause, ‘you said the things are inside? How many of them?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the boy answers, ‘they were everywhere…the whole place was going mad…’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Joe.’

  ‘Joe, I’m Marcy…how many people were inside the fort?’

  He shrugs, full of fear at what to say or do.

  ‘You said you’ve got to find Howie, where is he?’

  ‘He went out for fuel…I’ve got to wait for him.’

  ‘Okay…Joe…do you think everyone in the fort is infected now?’

  He nods, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks, his bottom lip quavering. ‘Chris got me out, the whole place was fighting, everyone had bite marks…Sarah saved me but she got killed…’

  ‘Sarah? Is that Howie’s sister?’

  He nods again, his chest starting to heave as the sobs bubble up from deep inside.

  ‘Your poor thing, come here,’ she opens her arms for him again. He hesitates but the sobs burst out again, ‘I promise I won’t hurt you Joe.’ Something propels him into her arms again. The feeling of safety at being enveloped by maternal loving arms. The warm softness of the female form providing comfort.

  ‘See, no one is going to hurt you Joe,’ she rubs his back again as she looks up at the look of worry etched on Reginald’s face.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Reginald asks.

  ‘They shouldn’t attack us,’ Marcy replies, ‘we should be safe to go inside.’

  ‘I’m not going back,’ Joe cries out.

  ‘I know…you don’t have to go back…we’re just talking Joe, just talking that’s all…’

  ‘Or we wait here for Howie to come back,’ Reginald suggests.

  ‘That might be sooner rather than later,’ Mildred remarks. They turn to see the front of the Saxon coming through the estate, a large fuel tanker driving slowly behind it.

  ‘Is that Howie’s vehicle?’ Marcy asks Joe. He nods back, stepping away from Marcy to watch as the Saxon slows to a stop.

  Marcy stands up, subconsciously adjusting her top and smoothing her hair down. Her heart beating faster as she realises the time has come. She glances back at the fort, wondering who’s taken it and why now.

  ‘This could ruin everything,’ she says quietly.

  ‘Too late now,’ Mildred replies.

  ‘We could still try and run,’ Reginald suggests.

  ‘Don’t be silly Reggie, we’re here now…we’ll just have to see it through,’ Marcy replies.

  ‘But you heard what Joe said…the fort’s gone, which is what we should be doing.’

  ‘No,’ she says firmly, ‘we’re here and we’re doing this.’

  Reginald nods and looks back at the big army vehicle. Swallowing nervously he takes a step closer to Marcy. Closer for his own peace of mind.

  Closer so she can protect him if it all goes wrong.

  Thirty-Six

  I recognise the woman, something about her seems familiar but I can’t place it. Must be the heat of the day and the fumes we’ve inhaled.

  I bring the Saxon to a halt a good distance away and we climb down. All eyes fixed on the group stood with the dog. We pause as the lads grab assault ri
fles and we wait for Clarence and Cookey to jog over and join us.

  ‘That’s one of the runners,’ Blowers protects his eyes from the bright sun and stares at the young lad stood with the group. They all turn to look back. A small smart looking man with glasses and a shirt that’s tucked in. An older refined looking woman with grey hair held tight in a bun and two beautiful adult women.

  The one with the low cut top and black hair, she’s tanned and stunning, and very familiar.

  My eyes are fixed on her as my brain frantically tries to work out where I’ve seen her before. Something in context. Not from the fort, no that doesn't feel right. A few quick glimpses are all I’ve had.

  She smiles and although I can’t see them, I can tell her eyes are as fixed on me as mine are on her. That smile. I’ve seen it. My heart is beating faster, my stupid brain is trying to tell me something.

  Where do I know her from?

  I glance at the others, they all look normal. The lad from the fort looks upset and the dog is snarling. Her lips are pulled back but she’s not attacking. Meredith is staring fixed at the woman with black hair too.

  ‘Hello Howie,’ she says, her voice low and husky and I recognise that too.

  ‘Hi, do I know you…I recognise you but…’ The air around me feels charged, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The other three people with her watch me closely, all of them with strange expressions on their faces, like they’re scared of me.

  I stop dead as our eyes meet.

  Time stops.

  The whole universe ceases to expand. The world doesn't spin. The whole of creation ceases to be in that one second. Eternity passes, the seasons change as summer drifts to autumn with a chill wind blowing at my face. Snow falls all around me then melts away as the spring sun once more comes to shine. It happens again. And again. Faster. Wind. Snow. Sun. The hours of the day blur into one never ending cycle of stars, moonlight and sunshine. I’m spinning round and round but I’m still, everything around me is spinning. I’m falling but I know I will never reach the bottom for there is no bottom. Just the fall. I’m lost. Lost in the wilderness, surrounded by an impenetrable forest that stretches for infinity in every direction. I am the first man to walk the earth. I am the first being that used fire and I gave creation to all things around me. Then I destroyed it. I destroyed everything and I did it again. I made life just so I can destroy it. I made suffering and pain just so mankind can feel the beauty of life. I am the father of every child born. I am the son of every mother.