The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  She felt like she had an advantage over everyone else. They were either at home or out getting drunk, whereas she had seen the outbreak and already made one kill, and that one kill counted for something; it meant she could kill if she had to.

  The huge warehouse outlet stores had yet to be looted and the acres of car park were mostly empty. Only one figure moved in the middle of the car park, a shuffling man with blood encrusted round his mouth and open wounds on his bare legs. Slowing down she watched the figure closely; now her decision was made she needed to study the enemy and learn what it was capable off.

  The figure had already turned towards her and was now shuffling its way over. The movement was stiff and awkward, the knee joints not bending and forcing the feet to take heavy almost robotic steps. The arms hung loose and the head rolled about almost as if the neck was broken.

  Paula waited with the windows closed and the doors locked, her foot down on the clutch, handbrake off, ready to pull away. Her heart rate soared as he staggered closer. She could see the red bloodshot eyes and the drool hanging from his mouth.

  What would he do? Would he have a final burst of speed or try and smash the window. Tensed and breathing hard she forced herself to wait, gripping the steering wheel as she held the car on the biting point.

  Giving a gasp as it walked into the side of the car she watched the awful face for long seconds as it pressed against the window, smearing blood and filth over the glass. It had no control over his hands and made no attempt to open the door or smash the glass, but instead just kept trying to walk into the side of the car.

  She pulled away and turned in a long slow loop to face the thing. It turned and started the slow shuffle. Paula fixed her eyes on it and revved the engine, waiting for a few seconds before forcing her foot to the floor. The car went off like a rocket, gathering speed as she changed up the gears. At the last second an image of a television documentary filled her head, of the crash test dummies being run over and going straight through the windscreen into the driver. With a scream she hit the brakes and jammed the wheel over slewing the car to the side. The passenger wing mirror clipped the man with a loud thunk, smashing the plastic casing apart and sending him spinning off to sprawl on the ground.

  Without hesitation she ran it over. Gathering enough speed to force the low car over the obstacle. She expected a feeling of guilt to course through her, that her mind would tell her she had just murdered someone. Instead she felt nothing other than an enhanced feeling of security that it was dead and therefore the threat was negated.

  She had to use the mini again, this time to ram the glass doors of outdoor equipment retailer. Reversing out from the wreckage she winced at the alarm wailing into the near silent air, cursing herself for not thinking of it in advance.

  It meant she would have to rush now. She burst out of the car and sprinted through the destruction of the doors. Straight to the clothing section she filled her arms with trousers, tops, waterproof jackets, vest tops and socks. Back to the vehicle and she dumped everything into the boot, leaving it open she ran back inside. At the far end she spotted the rugged boots all displayed on little plastic shelves fitted to the display unit. Checking the boxes beneath the boots she grabbed several her size and again ran back to ditch them in the car.

  The alarm screamed at her with an indignant and petrified wail. The alarm sent a message to the empty alarm company control room, in turn that activated an automated call to the equally empty police control room but that was it. A noise and a meaningless signal that no one would ever see.

  With clothes and boots sorted she darted back in and grabbed a rucksack from the display, working quickly to remove the paper filler she went round the display units, ramming torches, lanterns, flasks, water bottles and multi-tools into the bag. A whole box of high energy chocolate bars on the counter, more multi-tools, more socks. The bag was filled up so she grabbed another larger one and stuffed it with camping stoves, small gas bottles, mini pots and pans.

  Like a supermarket dash with the countdown timer on, frantic but focussed and refusing to let the constant warble of the alarm make her panic.

  The knife display unit was impressive, a whole range of deadly looking commando style knives, straight edged, curved blades, serrated with camouflage grips and leather scabbards. The locked cabinet was prised open and several knives taken along with sheaths.

  Each trip outside she checked the surrounding view, nothing moving, no running figures so she kept going, taking advantage of the lack of response and interest. Slowly the mini was filled with kit, clothing and equipment. After several trips she noticed figures in the distance shuffling across the car park, distinct movement with the same stiff legged walk.

  She’d gained enough to fill the mini completely, jamming the boot and the back seat high with goods. From the retail park she went back into the countryside and found another isolated spot to stash the gear before heading back into town.

  Having already seen the devastation of the town centre she stuck to the outer ring roads. Signs of looting began to appear, especially the shops near the housing estates. The windows smashed in and doors ripped off, debris everywhere, more disconcerting were the amount of bodies littering the streets and the large pools of blood smeared across parked cars, along garden fences and stark against white UPVC front doors.

  The second store she checked was on the far edge of town; one of the small expensive individually owned supermarkets. The front door was smashed open but no sign of movement. She left the car outside, pocketed the key and ran in with one of the sheathed commando knives stuffed into the back of the business pencil skirt she still wore.

  Whoever had gained access had gone straight for the booze aisle, large empty sections showing where the spirits bottles once were and the shutters on the cigarette display had been forced open. Crates of beer and cider stacked to the side of the counter were laying on the floor, evidently knocked over by the rushing looters.

  Paula moved quickly, taking a small trolley she headed straight into the tinned goods aisle, filling the trolley with everything she could grab.

  Outside she worked just as fast, sweat dripping from her brow as she scooped the tins out to be thrown into the back of the car.

  Running back inside with the trolley she went back for the tinned foods, then into the toiletries to take shampoo, wet wipes, soap, anti-bacterial gel, toothbrushes and toothpaste, mouthwash. Everything she would need to stay clean and healthy. Packets of multi-vitamins, long life and powdered milk, bags of sugar.

  On the third trip she rushed to the chilled section, taking cheeses and bottles of fruit juice. Intent on her work she failed to hear the new arrival until the voice spoke, a quavering fear filled voice of a man.

  ‘Hello,’ a simple greeting but it jarred her senses, making her spin round as though expecting an instant attack. Instead there was a young man, early twenties and very thin. He was holding the hand of a young girl with long brown hair. She looked five or six years old and was as terrified as the man.

  ‘Do you know what’s happening?’ The man asked his eyes were wide and filled with tears, clutching the little girls hand as though to draw strength from her instead of offering her a protective embrace.

  Paula examined the two figures, wondering why they were out in this; if it was food they wanted they should get it and go.

  ‘The phones are down, telly ain’t working…her mum was working nights in a care home and she ain’t come back yet, there’s like,’ he paused, fighting back tears, ‘bodies and stuff everywhere.’

  Paula looked down at the trolley, deciding she’d got enough and it was time to leave, ‘Didn’t you see anything last night?’ She asked.

  ‘Last night? No, I put little ‘un to bed and played Xbox for a few hours, why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Disease, it’s worldwide, people are biting each other and…’ she looked down at the little girl, re-phrasing what she was about to say, ‘well, those that get bit then want to bite
other people…it’s everywhere.’ She started pushing the trolley towards the door, wanting to get away as quick as possible.

  ‘Oh,’ the man replied, he looked dumbstruck and confused.

  ‘Get what food you can and find somewhere safe to hide,’ Paula pushed the trolley past them, staring ahead to make it clear the conversation was over.

  ‘What about the police?’

  ‘There is no police,’ Paula called back, ‘no nothing, all gone, you shouldn’t be out here with your daughter, find somewhere and hide.’

  ‘She ain't my daughter, I’m going out with her mum…I was babysitting so she could work…who do I call?’

  ‘There isn’t anyone to call,’ Paula shouted back as she reached the car and started loading the goods into the back, the man followed her out, standing there quietly watching her.

  ‘What…what you doing then?’ He said at length.

  ‘Leaving town,’ Paula lied.

  ‘Got a car then,’ he made the loaded statement while looking at the mini.

  Paula glanced at the man and nodded curtly, slamming the boot down and using her foot to push the trolley away.

  ‘You got somewhere safe then?’ He asked softly, clearly building up to asking if they could go with her.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Paula replied, ‘get food and stay off the streets, it isn’t safe.’ She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door closed, starting the engine and pulling away before he could ask.

  The man and child stood there watching her go, hand in hand, forlorn and lost. It was heart-breaking to think the girl’s mum was gone and she was left alone with a man she might hardly know. She forced herself to push the thoughts away and focussed on the plan.

  So far so good, she’d done well with supplies and equipment. That just left two things; vehicle and weapons. Do it now while you’ve got momentum and everyone is in shock. Strike quickly and get prepared.

  She felt exhausted, utterly drained from being up all the previous day and then the night too. The adrenalin had worn off, leaving her feeling weak. It was hot too, sticky with no fresh air.

  It didn’t take long to find a vehicle. She saw plenty that would do the job but they were parked up locked and secure. She needed one from a driveway but that meant going into the house for the keys, the risk was worth taking if it meant having a robust vehicle capable of carrying everything and big enough to be used as a weapon.

  Parked up a few doors down in the quiet residential street she stared at the big black four wheel drive vehicle. A Japanese made thing with a double cab and an enclosed pick-up truck on the back, tinted windows, big solid looking tyres and those oversized bull bars in front of the engine, solid and reliable. This street had clearly seen some action judging by the bodies littering the area and the vehicle was parked on a driveway of a house with the front door hanging open.

  No movement anywhere, with the windows down she listened intently; taking a few minutes to relax and get used to the normal background noises which consisted of the odd bird chirp. The air was still and listless, no breeze that rustled the trees, no traffic noise either. Scanning the houses she looked at each window and door in turn trying to detect any movement.

  If she was going to do this it had to be quick and ruthless. That meant being prepared to attack and not just defend. If there were survivors inside she would flee and find another one, no conversation, no stalling, just turn and run.

  She checked the route to the house; out the mini, down the pavement, into the driveway and up the path to the front door. No apparent obstacles and maybe a ten or fifteen second sprint, twenty at the very most.

  Where would the keys be? Biting her bottom lip she tried to figure out a way of finding them. The four wheel drive was shiny and clean, the big alloy wheels gleaming in the sun. The grass of the front garden was cut short and the flower beds well-tended. No rubbish stacked outside either. That all suggested a clean and orderly household, in turn that meant the people living there would have orderly minds. So the keys would be kept in one place, probably on a hook near to the front door, in the hallway or the kitchen. Nodding to herself she thought of how she always went into the kitchen first when she got home to put her mini keys into the bowl and flick the kettle on. Thinking back she remembered her mother doing the same and they were both clean living and orderly people.

  Checking the knife was still wedged into the top of her skirt she pursed her lips that she hadn’t taken the time to put some better clothes on, instead of running about in her work clothes and flat office shoes.

  Out of the car she left the door pushed in but not shut, just in case she needed a quick escape. One final check around, all clear. She sprinted down the pavement and into the driveway, heading up the path and pausing briefly at the front door. Eyes staring into the slight gap, moving side to side to increase her view of the inside.

  No noise, no movement. She was committed so no time to dwell now. She pushed the door open and stepped in. A quick scan showed her a minimalistic hallway with wooden floors. One unit to the side with a telephone and some papers. No keys. Down the hallway into the kitchen, the row of hooks were next to the fridge. She grabbed the set with the Nissan logo and was back outside within a few seconds, pressing the clicker to unlock the doors.

  Inside she didn’t wait to adjust the seat or wing mirrors but got the engine running and reversed out, leaning forward and using the steering wheel to hold herself up as the seat was too low.

  Driving away she allowed herself a quick grin at a perfectly executed mission, her right hand dropping down to find the lever to jack the seat up higher. Slamming the brakes on her feeling of victory soured instantly as she realised the mini still had all the food and goods from the supermarket in it. All that planning and she messed up, cursing herself, angry that she had failed to account for something and refusing to allow herself room for error, even considering how long she had been awake, the lack of food, the danger and tension she faced. It wasn’t good enough.

  Turning the vehicle round she went back down the road, crawling along slowly as she again scanned the houses, windows, doors. Pulling up next to the mini she burst out and started transferring all the goods, launching them into the rear seats of the new vehicle.

  With a flushed and sweating face, her now filthy blouse clinging to her body and loose strands of hair glued to her forehead she got it finished, remembering to grab her bag before climbing back into the four wheel drive.

  Breathing deeply, trying to calm herself down she worked her way out the town back to the stash point. Adrenalin was still high from the action of taking the vehicle, hands trembling and her legs felt rubbery and weak. She needed rest and water, knowing that her senses and intelligence would be slowed if she didn’t get it soon.

  Suddenly the stash point didn’t feel so safe. A gravel car park at the edge of a wooded copse, used by dog walkers in the day and god knows who else at night. It was enclosed and oppressive. Paula grabbed her equipment and stuffed it into the rear enclosed pick-up section of the vehicle, the back door split into two halves with one door rising up and the tail gate dropping down.

  Once loaded she again drove on, thinking that she needed high ground where she had a view of all sides, somewhere she could sort through her new supplies and get organised.

  She found a field with an open gate, the land rising gently to a crest at the far end. Perfect. The hard backed ground was easy to drive over with the big wheels.

  Once stopped she grabbed her list, checking through it and mentally ticking each item off. Food and water done, equipment and clothes done, tin opener done, boots done. Shit, no hair bands! That shouldn’t be too difficult to do. The vehicle was good and had nearly a full tank of fuel.

  That just left weapons. The knives were good but could only be really used as personal defence and it meant getting close too. She needed guns but this was England and the only people that had guns were the police, the army, farmers and gangsters.

  Gang
sters were ruled out instantly simply for not knowing where they would be, she didn’t even know if her town had gangsters, probably just the cities.

  Farmers were an option but they were generally isolated so the chances are they may not be affected by what’s happened, which also meant they were unlikely to give up their shotguns.

  That left police and army. Paula had no idea where any army bases were or where they kept the guns. But the police, they had guns. Her local station was the divisional headquarters and had the armed response vehicle running from it, everyone knew that as it was a big thing a few years ago when the local force started routinely arming those officers, and the sight of British bobbies walking about with pistols was very strange. But only a few were firearms officers which meant they would only have a few weapons and those officers probably wouldn’t want to give their guns up either.

  Still, it was the best and most feasible option, other than ram-raiding a gunsmith shop but she figured everyone else would have gone for them as soon as possible.

  She needed sleep but there wasn’t time. She had to keep the momentum going, get prepared now and sleep later. This might be the only chance before other survivors start coming out and trying to do the same things.

  Moving to the back of the vehicle she started going through the clothes to get changed then stopped. That man with the child was happy to speak with her and obviously didn’t see her as any kind of threat; the clothing did make her look safe and professional. Even bedraggled like this she looks like anyone should look after going through a night like that. Getting changed into black clothes could make her look aggressive or appear in another light, especially if she was going anywhere near a police station.

  Decision made, options weighed and she got back into the vehicle and once more headed into town, again chastising herself for not going straight there and getting it done. All of this messing about just wasted time and slowly lost whatever advantage she felt she had.