by RR Haywood
Nick just stand there with his eyes closed, getting the full brunt of the water. The cigarette hanging from his mouth gets drenched, goes out and starts to bend in the middle, going limp.
Cookey chuckles at the sight and wipes the dog water from his face. Blowers smiles as he ditches his smoke and goes for another one. Even Clarence gives a small smile, but with two very sad eyes staring out.
‘Come on, we’ll get it done,’ I sigh and pick my rifle up and wait for Cookey to turn the tap off. Then we head into the tents, smoking while holding our rifles one handed. Even Dave doesn't moan this time but just plods on in his stoic manner.
We walk in silence again, using our feet to shove downed tents aside. Checking inside ones that are still upright. The odd body here and there but nothing worse than we’ve seen many times already.
It takes ages, gradually moving deeper and deeper. Checking every place an undead could be hiding or secreted. I don’t think for one second one would be hiding but it needs to be done, so we do it.
Finally we end up in front of the visitors centre and wait while Dave goes in to check, him telling us to relax and wait. None of us argue but let him carry on, knowing full well it would take an army of undead with tanks to get him. Even Marcy’s lot couldn’t get him down.
He strolls out with a curt nod, ‘clear.’
‘Done then,’ I reply and turn to stare back across the fort.
‘What now?’ Cookey asks.
‘Get cleaned up, weapons and kit and sleep…’
‘I’m starving,’ Nick adds.
‘And some food then…after that? I haven’t got a fucking clue.’
‘Ah, you always know what to do Mr Howie,’ Cookey gives me a sudden grin, his confidence in me is touching.
We head over to our rooms, none of us knowing what else we should be doing. It does cross my mind to lock the gates and keep the things outside but Marcy has clearly proven her intent to us and besides, with just six of us, and a dog, we couldn’t hope to hold it against them for very long.
Cookey brews up while we start sorting out bags out and cleaning our weapons. Most of us dropped our pistols after we shot that big chap, but at least we’ve still got the rifles and axes.
Kit and weapons done we head outside with our coffees and take it in turns to use the hose, peeling our filthy clothes off to be scrubbed. Down to our underwear we wash and clean our clothes, stopping to sip coffee and smoke cigarettes. The conversation remains stilted and slow, all of us just too bloody exhausted to think of what to say.
We leave our clothes outside in the sun to dry, after getting Clarence to wring them out, his strong hands squeezing every last drop of moisture from them.
Teeth brushed. Skin scrubbed. Hair washed and still I feel grimy and filthy. The sweat already starting to drip down my face. The lads go inside, heading to their rooms for sleep. Too drained to think of food or anything else.
I head into my room and look down at the two mattresses on the floor. Still I don’t feel anything but numb. Just numb. It doesn't feel right to be in here without Lani so I drag my mattress out and walk it into the day room and push it into a corner.
The dog trots over and lies down next to it. Dave comes out to check the noise, nods and pulls his own mattress out. I don’t bother telling him not to bother, he wouldn’t listen anyway.
He closes the door as I crash out, lying back on the soft mattress and feeling a deep, deep tiredness come over me.
A slight hissing noise sounds by my head, followed by an awful stench. I grimace and twist round so my head is at the other end. The dog looks up at me then rests her head again.
After choking for a few minutes I feel the pull of sleep sucking me under. My eyes getting heavier and heavier. I should be crying, we all should be. We should be wailing and smashing things up, doing anything we can to get rid of the pressure inside us. We should be drinking hard liquor and getting smashed.
But we don’t. We just sleep instead.
Forty-Four
‘Fuck…that hurt,’ I snap awake from Cookey cursing as he walks into something.
‘Turn the fucking lamp on,’ Blowers whispers which is more like a shout in the small room.
‘I can’t see the pissing lamp,’ Cookey whispers back.
‘Ssshh, you’ll wake Dave and Mr Howie,’ Nick’s voice comes from somewhere.
‘Bit late for that,’ I groan, sitting up I open my eyes and blink. The inside of the room is pitch black with no discernible difference between my eyes being open or closed.
‘Where are your torches?’ Dave asks.
‘Er…yeah Blowers where’s your torch?’ Cookey says.
‘Where’s your fucking torch?’ Blowers whispers back.
‘Why are you still whispering? They’re awake now,’ Cookey says.
‘Der…Clarence isn’t,’ Blowers snaps.
‘Fucking am now,’ a deep rumble comes across the darkness.
‘Oh well done Cookey!’ Nick sighs.
‘Fuck off…shit what’s that…oh…oh it’s just Meredith, shit that made me jump.’
A bright piercing light shines out as Dave guides his torch first into Cookey’s face, making him yelp then at Blowers and Nick, both of them yelping as the bright light hits them.
‘That’s for forgetting your torches,’ Dave says flatly, ‘the lamp is there,’ he shines the beam of light onto the gas lamp on the table.
‘I can’t see anything,’ Cookey whines, ‘my retinas are bleeding.’
‘Stop being a twat,’ Blowers makes his way to the table and starts rumbling for the lamp, his own eyes clearly still dazzled.
‘Stop Simon,’ Dave stands up, well the torch beam lifts higher so I assume he stands up, ‘you’ll burn the room down, I’ll do it.’
The torch light bobs to the table and rests on the surface. Dave’s hands come into view, then the flare of a match and the hiss of gas. An orange glow then illuminates the room, revealing the three lads stood there in their pants looking sleepy.
‘What time is it?’ Clarence calls.
‘Er…almost two,’ Nick replies.
‘What in the morning?’ I ask, shocked at how long we slept.
‘Yep and I’m bloody starving,’ Nick rubs his stomach.
‘Didn’t they howl then?’ I ask, ‘I haven’t heard them.’
‘They didn’t,’ Dave replies.
‘Can someone open that door, that dog’s arse stinks,’ I waft the air in front of my nose.
‘Yeah I’m going for a smoke while Cookey brews up,’ Nick says.
‘Why me?’ Cookey asks.
‘Cos you got Aprils boobs in your face…’ Blowers replies walking across the room.
‘No, I said if you left me there I’d do the brew’s for a month…but you didn’t…you bastards pulled her off and then started flirting with her, smooth fuckers…’ he tuts.
‘I’ll bloody do it, you three piss off outside and give me some peace,’ Clarence grumbles. He walks through the door into the dayroom and stretches. Like a bear rearing up onto its back legs.
‘Yes!’ Cookey takes the victory and heads for the door. Meredith squeezes out as soon as he pulls it open. ‘Bloody hell, she needed a piss quick,’ he calls back, ‘fuck…er…Mr Howie…’ He calls.
‘What?’ But I’m already up and heading for the door at the tone in his voice. We cram through, all of us responding to Cookey’s voice.
‘Fuck me,’ Nick stares out.
The Saxon stands just down from us, facing away with the rear doors open. We can see it clearly in the darkness from the many flaming torches stuck into the ground. Long sticks with flickering flames dancing into air, embedded into the ground at set intervals.
The glow of the flames cast the interior of the fort in a soft orange glow. Warm and inviting. We start moving forward, venturing towards the Saxon. Dave shines his torch inside to reveal the gleaming back area. The bench seats scrubbed clean, the rifles we dumped in the back are all stacked on the
ground to the side, along with our pistols. All of them wiped clean of blood and gore. Dave climbs in and moves to the front, shining his torch, ‘all cleaned,’ he calls back, ‘not a drop of blood anywhere.’
‘Smells nice too,’ Nick leans in sniffing the inside of the vehicle.
‘Pine disinfectant,’ a voice says from behind us. We spin round to see Marcy stood there, ‘it was actually toilet cleaner but it did the job, I’m er, sorry if we woke you, we tried to be quiet.’
She’s changed her top, wearing a plain white t shirt now instead of the low cut vest top. The light casts her skin in a golden tone and shimmers from her long hair.
‘Er…it’s okay,’ I reply, my voice low and hoarse from a combination of sleep and the sight of her. I suddenly become aware of being stood there in my underpants. I think we all do by the awkward fidgets of hands going to the front of groins.
She laughs, a clear rich sound that fills the air, ‘get dressed, we’ve got some food for you, coffee all round?’ She smiles and walks off into the darkness.
‘Food?’ Nick perks up, ‘I’m starving…what kind of food is it?’
‘You’ll see,’ her voice drifts back.
‘Er…we getting changed then?’ Clarence asks in a low voice.
We head back over to our room, finding our clothes all neatly folded in piles. All dried and ready to be put on.
‘Fuck,’ Cookey exclaims again. He goes to his pile and picks his t shirt up, he stares at it for a second before sniffing it suspiciously, ‘they’ve washed them again, it smells…well it smells nice.’
‘Really?’ I grab my trousers and hold them to my nose. A clean floral smell comes from them. We get dressed, feeling the comfort of fresh clean clothes for the first time in days.
‘Boots have been done too,’ Clarence remarks as he hefts his up to inspect them.
Meredith spins to growl at someone approaching from the shadows, Nick grabs her collar while we squint into the light. The figure comes into view. April, carrying a tray full of steaming mugs.
She looks at the dog then smiles at us before stretching down to place the tray on the ground. The three lads leaning forward to stare at her bent over backside. She twists round to stare back at them, smiling as they all quickly look away.
‘Food will be ready soon,’ she walks off, again with several men staring at her backside.
‘What’s going on?’ Blowers asks suspiciously but without taking his eyes off her retreating form.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply quietly.
‘Might be poisoned,’ Nick tears his eyes off the woman to look at the coffee, ‘Cookey you should try one first.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re the ugliest.’
‘I’m not the ugliest…Blowers is.’
‘No he’s the gayest.’
‘You’re the stupidest then,’ Blowers retorts, ‘here, I’ll take one for the team,’ he lifts a mug and sniffs it dramatically before taking a sip, he shrugs and nods, ‘tastes alright.’
‘Well you wouldn’t taste the poison dickhead,’ Cookey says, ‘that comes later.’
‘Oh right,’ Blowers takes another sip, ‘fuck it.’
‘Maybe they’re laced with the zombie virus just so I turn and April can have her way with me,’ Cookey says with a wishful expression.
‘You wish,’ Nick laughs as he takes a mug. We dive in, grabbing mugs while looking around suspiciously.
‘Dave, if I turn and I’m not evil please don’t kill me…’ Cookey says.
‘Okay Alex,’ Dave replies in his flat voice.
‘Seriously…her boobs were right in my face…like actually touching me.’
‘Okay Alex.’
‘I think she pulled them out a bit for me,’ Cookey leans back to rest against the wall and stretch his legs out, ‘in fact the more I think about it, I reckon she saw you two ugly bastards and went round you to get at me.’
‘You’re such a twat,’ Blowers replies.
‘You were closest that’s why, you probably saw her coming and dragged her down on top of you,’ Nick says as Blowers laughs, spitting his coffee out.
‘Yeah,’ Cookey grins.
‘Seriously though, is this fucked up or what?’ Nick asks looking round at us.
‘Feels that way mate,’ I reply.
‘Why they being so nice?’ Blowers asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I look round at them, ‘Marcy said she wanted to hand herself in for testing, that they were different and not like the others…maybe this is their way of showing it.’
‘You think?’ Clarence asks.
I shrug, ‘I don’t know, what else can it be?’ They could have killed us several times over by now…either that or they want something, but fuck knows what.’
‘Fancy a walk down?’ Clarence asks. We all rise up and head inside to grab our rifles before taking our mugs and walking down towards the tents.
As we get closer we see they’re back in order. The ruined ones removed and all the litter and debris removed. We see figures lying prone within them. Undead looking asleep. No talking, no noise, just hundreds of bodies lying on their backs scattered throughout the various tents. Meredith walks with us, flicking her head side to side to watch.
‘Bodies have gone too,’ Dave shines his torch towards the slope, at the now clear ground.
‘They have been busy,’ Clarence remarks. We walk on, quietly scanning the area and marvelling at how orderly everything is, eerily ordered. Too ordered.
‘This is creepy as fuck,’ Blowers stares round and chucks the last dregs of his coffee on the floor, ‘fucking place is crawling with those things, sleeping in the fucking tents and living here like it’s their place…’ his lip curls up with sudden distaste.
‘They saved us though,’ Nick replies quietly.
Blowers just carries on staring round, his dark eyes scanning from tent to tent, ‘yeah,’ he says after a lengthy pause.
We walk onto the main central aisle and further down, drawing closer to much brighter lights in the centre.
Meredith raises her head, sniffing at the air followed closely by Nick, ‘what’s that smell?’ He cocks his head to one side, just like the dog, ‘cooking…that’s food cooking!’
Walking closer we all get the scent of hot food being cooked, spices mixed with wood smoke and gas.
Nick sniffs harder as he concentrates, ‘curry…that’s bloody curry that is.’
‘It fucking is,’ Cookey joins in with the sniffing, taking long inhalations through his nose. The dog is already wagging her tail with her head fixed in that direction.
Flaming torches surround a collection of tables and chairs, all of them brought out from offices or rooms and pushed together. Grills and gas burners flame away with pots of steaming food cooking in them. The distinctive scent of curry wets my taste buds, making me realise how completely and utterly famished I am.
We stop and watch as Mildred, the grey haired old lady moves between the pots, stirring and checking them. Reginald and Marcy stand nearby talking to her. Reginald sees us and stands upright, cutting his sentence of midway. Marcy turns, smiling as she walks over.
‘It’s ready, sit down we’ll plate it up.’
‘What’s going on? What is this?’ I ask, despite the hunger I’m starting to feel manipulated from this contrived environment.
‘Food,’ she replies simply, ‘we made enough for you too.’
‘What does that mean? You too?’ I demand.
‘We’ve been clearing up this mess all day, you were sleeping and we were working and now we’re hungry…like I said, we made enough for you too.’
‘Hungry? For food?’
She pauses and thinks before answering, ‘we need to eat just like you, please, sit down so we can talk.’
‘Mr Howie,’ Nick asks quietly, ‘I can see you’re cross but I’m starving, I can get some food from the stores if you don’t want to eat here but…’
‘Howie, it’s just food,
let your lads have a decent meal,’ Marcy smiles warmly, ‘come on, come and sit down.’
‘Boss?’ Nick asks, he looks at me, waiting for my answer before moving.
I nod and walk forward, staring at the pots and then the plates stacked up. I move round as though I’m likely to find something wrong, something I can point at and shout, ha ha! We’ve caught you. But there isn’t anything. Just some tables and chairs and the delicious smell of hot food.
‘Is that curry?’ Nick blunders straight into the kitchen and lifts the lid of a pot, cursing when he burns his fingers.
‘Yes it is now go and sit down,’ Mildred shoos him out, waving her hands at him.
‘Where did you get curry from?’ Nick asks.
‘Your stores were very well stocked,’ she replies.
I take a seat, the others all sit down too, assault rifles placed by our legs as we self-consciously sit at the table and look around.
April appears carrying a big plastic cool-box, she sets it down and flips the lid before pulling out bottles of beer dripping from the cold water they were resting in. She walks down, placing one in front of each of us, giving a big smile to Cookey who just stares at her like a puppy.
‘It’s cold,’ Nick touches the bottle, he takes a big swig and sighs deeply, ‘shit…that’s nice.’
Clarence and I look at each other, both of us feeling very unsettled and wary. Plates get loaded with big heaps of boiled rice. Curried food gets spooned on as April and Marcy move back and forth, placing the plates of mouth-watering food in front of us.
Nick goes to dig in but sees Clarence and I both waiting, reluctantly he pauses, his fork hovering over the food.
We watch as more plates are put down on the table, then Marcy, April, Reginald and Mildred come and join us.
‘Tuck in,’ Marcy prompts. I lift my fork and load it up, lifting it slowly to my mouth while staring at the four of them. I don’t want to eat it. I don’t want to take their food but my stomach is rumbling and I can’t remember ever being this hungry.
I shove the food in and close my eyes as my taste buds explode from the flavour. Succulent meat with sweet curried sauce. I take another forkful and keep going. The rice is fluffy and perfect with just a hint of salt.