by RR Haywood
The American moves towards Clarence, grabbing his own undead and launching them aside. He roars and swats them away. Both of them fighting a path to each other. When the route becomes clear they stand with eyes locked. Clarence drops the axe as the American tenses his arms, clenching his fists to push the veins out even more. The two biggest men I have ever seen staring each other down. Goliaths of almost mythical size. The same height and width. The American is defined and ripped with clear muscles that bulge. Clarence is just a solid slab of pure unbridled rage.
‘Randall,’ an undead shouts and throws a knife out, the American catches it by the handle. Clarence reaches round to put his hand behind his back.
‘You got a knife there you motherfucker?’ Randall growls.
‘No,’ Clarence shakes his head, ‘I got a fucking gun.’ He starts firing, aiming the shots into the centre mass as he strides forward. The American takes the hits and charges. Clarence ditches the pistol at the last second and side steps, slamming a huge fist into the side of his head.
Randall roars out but keeps his feet. He spins and lashes a straight punch at Clarence. It connects and drives him back. Clarence takes the punch and pauses as the American comes in swinging. Clarence blocks the blows and goes in close, slamming his forehead into Randall’s nose. He follows it up with a left hook, then a right, then more blows, one hand after the other and each one more powerful than the last. Randall reels back, unable to focus or do anything from the reign of blows being smashed into him.
‘CLARENCE…YOUR HANDS…’ Dave roars. Clarence pauses mid swing and looks at the bleeding face of Randall and then at his clenched fists. The pause is enough for Randall to charge with the knife stretched out.
Dave lunges in and brings his own knife down in a mighty swing, cutting through Randall’s outstretched arm. Severing the hand from the wrist. Clarence staggers away from the blood pumping furiously out of the stump. Randall howls and stares at his ruined arm as Meredith launches up to grip his other arm between her teeth. She heaves backwards, shaking her massive head as her teeth ravage through his flesh. The American stays on his feet, jerking left and right to free his arm from the dog. I take a step back, creating just enough space to draw my pistol. I start firing into Randall’s back. The others do the same, drawing their handguns and firing into him.
He stays on his feet, getting jolted and slammed by the bullets. God knows how he does it but he does. Staggering and howling as the rounds whip through his body. Pistols click empty and he still stays up, roaring with desperation as he kicks out at the dog. She side steps and pulls him towards her, refusing to let go. The lads dart in with axes, hacking at his legs and body. Lani slicing her meat cleaver deep into thigh. I run in drawing my axe back and swinging it round with all my strength, driving the blade deep into his back. Still he roars defiantly as Meredith tugs and shakes her head. Clarence swoops for his axe, bringing it up and out in one fluid movement. He swings it out with a ferocious yell and powers the blade into Randall’s neck. It goes through with ease, taking the head off in one brutal swipe.
As the head falls, the body stays upright for a second then topples and slumps to the ground. Meredith finally releases the arm and goes for the now detached head. Sinking her teeth into the face as she lifts it easily from the ground. The undead scream and charge in and suddenly we’re back pressed against the side of the Saxon and slashing out. I’d hoped that the loss of their leader would take the fight out of them. The opposite happens. They charge in with everything they’ve got, the whole of them pressing against us and we have nowhere to go.
A dull roar fills the air. A different sound that comes from a distance. It grows louder as we slash and hack.
The roar gets closer, a thundering noise that vibrates through the ground. Then an almighty screech and something impacts the undead from the far side. The power of the impact drives them off to the side. The whole crowd getting pushed away. Confusion erupts and we take full advantage of it. As they go past we lash out. They rally and fight back. The roaring screech comes again and I feel the crowd ripple as pressure is applied from the outer edges.
A glimpse through their ranks and I see the lines at the back are facing out, fighting at something else. We get swept along, physically moved by the pressure. The fighting becomes close and brutal with short hacking lunges. I scream out and start wrenching my axe from left to right, powering it back and forth. Slowly, body by body I gain space and find I’m alone. Swept into their midst by the pressure of the wave of whatever hit them.
Separated we fight alone. The screech comes on again, louder and determined. The undead push into me but are facing the other way. I slash back and forth, cutting them down and striking into their backs.
More undead pour through the ranks at me, facing me as they charge and shove their way through. I can’t understand what’s going on. Most are facing out but then others are charging in. Something grabs me from behind and pulls me down. The undead charging through launch into my body and drive me to the floor. Hands grab at me, I lose the axe and start punching, kicking, slamming my forehead into them. They smother me and I scream in pure desperation as I wait for the bites to start. I can’t move. I can hardly breathe from the pressure of the bodies on me. The sound of the battle becomes dull and far away. I try to scream but the weight on my chest prevents me from drawing air.
I clench my eyes and wait, knowing this is it and giving thanks that at least we took that nasty fucker down. I pray to the lord to let my team go without pain. I pray to take them into heaven. I pray for Sarah’s soul.
I start to suffocate, unable to draw breath. They could be biting me all over my body and I wouldn’t know. My senses are dulling as my body starts to shut down from the lack of oxygen. Blackness creeping in. I fight back, pushing it away but it just comes on stronger.
Movement. Voices. Something moves on me, my arm comes free and I try to punch out but I there’s nothing left to fight with. The pressure on my chest shifts and I draw a gulp of air, then another. My head becomes dizzy from the oxygen flooding into my system. My vision blurs but I feel strength returning. I will energy into my free arm and start punching at the thing on top of me. Driving my fist again and again into the warm body. It shifts again and I buck, thrusting my hips up and twisting to the side.
‘MOVE,’ a female voice shouts, it must be Lani. ‘GET OFF HIM,’ she shouts again and the pressure on my body is gone. I scrabble backwards, trying to get to my feet but my head feels woozy. I fall back down and feel hands grabbing to me up. An undead face swims in front of my eyes. I punch it hard on the side of the head, it lets go and I stagger round. More undead in front of me so I punch out at them and reach for my pistol, but it’s gone, dropped somewhere.
‘HOWIE STOP,’ she yells but I can’t see her, just undead everywhere. I keep attacking them, fighting to break free of the tight circle they’ve formed round me.
Arms grab me from behind, I wrestle to break free but she whispers close to my ear, ‘stop…it’s over…it’s done…’ her breath is on my ear, ‘Howie stop…it’s over…’ she holds me closer, wrapping her arms round my chest. I reel at the words but feel myself sinking into her embrace. My legs give out, she goes to the floor with me, still holding me from behind. ‘It’s over Howie…it’s over.’
Tears sting my eyes and pour down my face. My hands reach up and grab at the arms holding me. I hold them tight while I gasp for air, ‘breathe Howie…just breathe…you’re safe now.’
The words slide into my mind, comforting, soft as the air she exhales. The warmth of her body makes me sink into her. My vision clears enough for me to see the undead stood round watching. I struggle to break free, ready to fight them off and protect Lani.
She grips me harder and holds me down, ‘it’s okay…they aren’t going to hurt you…Howie…it’s over…’
She says it so it must be true. She wouldn’t lie to me but why aren’t they attacking me. I’m turned. I must be turned. I’m one of them but I’
m still me and I hurt everywhere. Something has gone wrong, I’m turned but not fully. I have to kill myself, end it before I turn fully.
‘Kill me…don’t let me turn…’
‘You’re alive Howie…your alive and safe…you haven’t been bitten.’
‘I…I don’t…’ She holds me closer and I feel her lips against my ear, soft and warm. I reach a hand up and feel her head and the long, soft hair that hangs down. I caress the back of her neck, feeling the warmth and security she gives me. The contact of a woman. The soothing touch and caress that only a woman can offer.
My other hand rubs along her arms, finding her hand. She splays her fingers and lets mine entwine so we’re together. Connected. Minutes go by as my heart rate slows and my senses start to return.
I look down at her slender arms, at the tanned skin. I feel the pressure in my back of her breasts pushing against me. Breasts of a full figured woman, not of a lithe slim woman.
‘Marcy,’ I whisper.
‘Yes,’ she whispers into my ear. I look up at the undead gathered round us and I realise. These are her undead. Her horde.
She saved us. It was her horde that attacked and drove the others back. That’s why they’re not attacking me now.
‘Now do you believe me?’ She whispers. I nod but don’t say anything. Her fingers squeeze mine and she kisses my ear. A soft fleeting sensation that is gone as quick as it was there.
‘Get up,’ she helps me to my feet and let’s go. Our hands slip apart and I step away to turn slowly and look at her. She stares back and holds her head up high.
‘GET THESE FUCKING THINGS OFF ME,’ Clarence’s muffled voice booms out. I spin round but see I’m stuck in the middle of a small circle.
They break away, melting back to let me slip through. I see a huge mound of bodies, all of them heavy built men and women with Clarence’s feet poking out the end, wriggling as he yells.
Marcy nods at them and they start to climb off. He thrashes and bucks the same as I did as the pressure leaves and then throws the last body off his stomach.
He sits up and looks first at me then at Marcy. He makes the connection far quicker than I did.
‘Oh,’ he says simply… ‘right…they saved us then.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where are the others?’
‘I don’t know.’ The undead peel away, leaving a distinct view of undead bodies piled in heaps, each one of them pressing the lads down. Only Dave stands upright, still holding his knives and staring suspiciously at the massive pile of undead bodies surrounding him.
‘Mr Howie,’ he nods at seeing me, not a flicker of surprise on his face.
‘They didn’t get you down then?’
‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘they tried.’
‘Leave them,’ Marcy calls out. I turn to see the piles of bodies disentangling themselves. Slowly sliding off to reveal the blood stained cargo trouser clad legs of the lads. Nick and Blowers are the first to be released, they both sit up and stare around. Seeing Clarence, Dave and me stood with Marcy.
‘What the fuck?’ Blowers asks, shaking his head.
‘She saved us,’ Clarence says.
‘Eh? Your zombies killed the other zombies?’ Nicks asks, ‘that’s fucked up…’
‘Where’s Cookey,’ Blowers looks round with alarm on his face.
‘I’m here,’ a muffled voice calls out, ‘and I’m staying here.’
‘Cookey, get up,’ I call out.
‘No Mr Howie, there is a big pair of boobs pressing into my face…I’m in heaven…just leave me here.’
‘Get off him,’ Marcy calls.
‘No don’t get off him…’ Cookey yells from under the bodies, ‘I heard what you said…these zombies fucked up the other zombies so we won…so let me stay here.’
‘April,’ Marcy calls out.
‘I’m here,’ she replies from the tangle of bodies.
‘Is it April with her boobs in his face?’ Nick asks. ‘you jammy bastard Cookey, I had some blokes arse in mine.’
‘Blowers will get jealous…is it really April on top of me?’
‘Yes,’ April replies.
‘Fuck! This is the best day ever…please please let me stay here…I’ll make the brews for a month…’
‘Cookey I fucking hate you,’ Nick shouts with a shake of his head, ‘is she like wearing a top?’
‘Yeah but the boobs are coming out a bit, like the actual boob is touching me…no nipple yet though…is Marcy there?’
‘Yeah right here,’ Blowers replies as he massages his neck.
‘Marcy?’ Cookey calls. She looks somewhat startled at being addressed directly, and from someone buried under a mound of bodies.
‘Yes?’ She replies.
‘Would I catch zombie if I licked her boob?’
‘Get him out!’ I yelp while darting forward. Clarence and the lads rush towards the pile as Marcy yells for them to get off him.
‘No…No piss off…I won’t actually lick it…I was just asking…piss off and leave me here…oh for fuck’s sake,’ he groans as we push and shove the bodies away who do their best to untangle themselves from him.
‘Can I help you up?’ Nick smiles as he extends a hand to help April to her feet. She smiles as Blowers rushes in to help too, taking hold of her other arm.
‘I was bloody enjoying that,’ Cookey grumbles as he sits up with a flushed and glistening face the gives an enormous and unashamed grin, ‘I’m in love,’ he flops back down with a groan.
‘Are you okay?’ Blowers asks with concern.
‘Fine mate,’ Cookey sighs.
‘I wasn’t asking you fuckwit…’
Cookey glances up sharply to see him staring at April with Nick on the other side still holding her hand. ‘Oi,’ he yelps scrambling to her feet, ‘get your filthy paws off her.’
I cast round at the bodies, just a sea of undead stacked deep all around us. Body parts, heads, limbs and gore everywhere. The axes lying amongst the bodies. Pistols left dropped on the ground. The side of the Saxon is coated in a thick gunky layer of blood and filth.
More undead stand back in a wide circle around us. I half wish I could have seen them fighting each other. Undead against undead. How did she do it? How could they tell each other apart?
My head still feels weird with a throbbing pain building in my temples. I feel weak and drained, like I’m drunk. Bodies are everywhere. Detached heads staring with open eyes to the sky. Tongues poking out. I glance across at Marcy then at Blowers and Nick stood next to April. This is fucked up, completely fucked up.
‘Where’s Lani?’ My senses flood back for a second as I realise she’s not with us. ‘Lani?’ I shout. The lads break from April and cast about looking for her.
‘Lani?’ I call again. We start running to the side of the Saxon where the bodies are lying thick on the ground. Our bloodied hands grasp the corpses, pulling them aside, pushing them over. Clarence simply throws them away.
My hands slip into cleaved skulls, grey matter sticks to my fingers. The lads get more bloodied as they search through the cadavers.
‘Lani?’ We all shout, calling her name.
‘Didn’t your lot get her?’ Clarence shouts to Marcy.
‘I don’t think so,’ she replies.
‘Don’t think so? How can you not know?’ I yell with frustration.
‘It doesn't work like that, I told you…I can’t see her either.’
‘HERE!’ Cookey shouts, he pushes his hands down into a pile of corpses and starts wrenching them away. The goofy clown gone as he works with serious intent. We scrabble towards him, slipping and tripping on the bodies.
‘Lani,’ Cookey shouts, ‘hey Lani,’ he pulls a body up with a heave and dumps it to the side before dropping down and reaching into the pile.
Clarence gets there next, kneeling on the corpses to help pull her lifeless body out. We all dive in, knees and feet sinking into the fetid corpses. Many hands grasp and lift her clear of the mes
s, carrying her as gently as we can. Each of us giving small instructions and telling the others to be careful.
‘Wound in the stomach,’ Dave says dully.
‘See it,’ Clarence replies. He carefully pulls the blood soaked material of her top away from her body. He takes the knife handed to him by Dave and cuts the material to reveal a deep wound in her abdomen.
‘The cleaver,’ Dave remarks on peering down, ‘straight cut made with a sharp blade, bigger than a knife…’
‘Her hand must have been trapped when the crush started,’ Clarence shakes his head, ‘big blade like that and all that pressure.’
I press my fingers into her neck and pause, ‘she’s got a pulse…very faint but it’s there.’
‘Check her eyes,’ Dave says. I gently pull one eyelid back, her eyes are normal and white.
‘The infected blood could have got into the wound,’ Dave adds.
‘She hasn’t turned though,’ I say hopefully.
‘Mr Howie,’ Dave says and from his tone I can tell what he’s about to say, ‘too much blood loss Mr Howie…she won’t make it.’
‘She might,’ I croak back at him.
‘No,’ he replies, ‘not from a wound like that…I’m sorry.’
I brush the blood and sweat soaked hair away from her face, she looks like she’s asleep. Just resting, taking a nap before she gets up and makes coffee. I feel numb. Too numb to cry. Too numb to feel anything. Sarah, now Lani. My mind can’t take it and simply refuses to acknowledge what’s happening.
Her hand lies across her chest. The same hand I held while we slept. Numb. Blackness. Nothing.
‘Go,’ Dave says softly after a minute of silence.
‘She’s still alive,’ Nick whispers.
‘Nick, she’s lost too much blood…the wound, it’s too deep mate, she’d need a blood transfusion, surgery and anaesthetic to survive…’ Clarence’s deep voice explains slowly.
‘We can try,’ Marcy says from somewhere behind me.
‘You’re not turning her,’ I snap.
‘She might pull through, she won’t be in pain and she won’t suffer…’