by RR Haywood
Instead she starts the engine and pulls quickly out of the space, accelerating down the road. Using the back streets she knows are unobstructed she makes her way out of the town, her eyes constantly flicking down to that damned bit of paper.
No headlights are used, the bright clear sky illuminates the ground enough to see by. Headlights from a vehicle like this will be seen for miles.
Once out of the town she pushes on, taking lefts and rights, driving straight for long minutes before taking more turns. Into the country lanes and she drives on for miles, knowing the town behind her is now probably as safe as can be. But the method has worked so far. Find a rural spot with a good view, park up and feel safe.
At the entrance to a field she stops the vehicle and quickly runs out to open the gate before running back to drive the vehicle through.
The field inclines up a gradual hill. She pushes forward, driving slowly until she reaches near the top. The very top won’t do, it would cause an outline of the vehicle to anyone below, so she stops just below and switches the engine off. Windows down and listen. She settles her mind and breathes slowly. Absorbing the normal sounds of the night. Insects buzzing. A far off cry of a fox. Normal. Natural.
Only when fully satisfied does she climb down and retrieve the note. Taking it back to the cab she opens the folded piece of A4 paper, just standard plain white printer paper with a hand-written message.
To the woman that kills everything,
My name is Thomas, I am the one that has been chasing you.
If you are reading this note, then it means you have either won or escaped again.
Something tells me that tonight will be our final dance, and by reading this now it
means you have been victorious
If this is the case, I applaud you. You have been a worthy opponent who is both beautiful
and highly intelligent.
My guess is that you wish to rid this town of my kind. There are very few of us left now, if
you have succeeded in killing me then the town is yours, and I congratulate your victory.
Take that victory and live peacefully for you have earned it. I suspect that you will now
consider moving on and starting again. I would urge you to consider your options carefully.
I am not the only one of my kind. There will be others, others who are stronger, faster and
with greater numbers. Do not devote your life to this cause. You have proved yourself strong
and capable. To continue will see you being either killed or taken as one of us.
However, I also suspect that you are a very strong willed person and will decide
for yourself. But know there will be other survivors, other people who could
use someone like you.
Don’t be alone in this. Find more of your own kind and live.
Whatever you do, I wish you luck, and as for tonight, may the best one win.
Thomas
A single tear falls onto the page, soaking into the crisp material. A lump in her throat. She blinks rapidly as a muted laugh escapes from her lips. The sadness of it plucks at her heart. She thinks back to their conversation before the final dance as he called it. She laughs again at the words, a dry chuckle and a shake of her head.
He was right. That was the plan. It was never to re-claim the town. That place is now dead to her. Too many memories, too much painful history. Her intention all along was to move on, find the next town and start again. Using the skills she’s learnt she can only get better and find ways to kill larger numbers.
Maybe he’s right though. There will be other survivors out there. Others like her.
Paula had seen the other survivors in her town but had actively avoided them, and on one occasion had threated two men with her pistol for trying to follow her. They were just after food and company, there was nothing threatening about them. But after what Clarke did she refuses to trust anyone. At twenty-five years old, slim and attractive she knows she’ll be a target and after that night, no man will touch her like that again.
But it has been lonely. Despite trying to convince herself this was the right course, she misses the company of others. Just to talk and discuss things, talk this through.
In her dream she would meet another person or group that were as dedicated as she was to killing them. They would team up and work together. A loyal team that co-existed with loyalty and bravery, a team that supported and fought as one.
Just a dream though. In reality the survivors are going to be scared and fearful hiding and running. There might be little pockets but they’ll be dominated by greedy powerful figures that control everyone else. The Clarke’s of this world.
She folds the note and places it carefully on the passenger seat before moving to the back of the vehicle. She strips off, cleaning herself again using wet wipes and water. Scrubbed and dried she changes into clean clothes and starts eating cold beans from a tin. At least she can fart out here on her own without anyone judging her.
Head south, find the coast and work along it. She longs to be near the sea. The wide open sea that would be warm and inviting. She could find a boat and use it as a place to sleep every night.
That’s it. Head south and carry on. Plan formed she climbs into the back seats and stretches out after locking the doors. The pistol placed on the floor next to her body.
Her final thought as her eyes grow heavy is that she’s better on her own.
Far safer.
Six
A thick carpet of mangled bodies stretch across the fort. The tents ripped apart, flattened and torn to pieces. The visitor centre pockmarked where the machine gun rounds thundered through. Some of the hastily erected wooden structures the engineers put up are now hanging in bits with blood and gore everywhere.
My hands gripped the triggers so hard I have to consciously think to unclasp them. Ears ringing from the constant thud of the GPMG. Cordite hangs in the air. Away to my left the lads unfurl from their tight circle they formed to fend the undead off while I made use of the gun. Dave breaks away and attacks the last small group that Meredith is already going for. Between them they slaughter them with ease and as the last one falls I exhale a long exhausted breath.
Dropping down into the Saxon I push the rear doors open and jump down. Finding the weapons that were left stacked there. A fresh magazine goes into my assault rifle. A pistol is checked and loaded with a new clip before being pushed into the empty holster on my belt. Picking my axe up I examine the shaft, thinking of a way to attach a strap so it can be with me all the time.
My eyes keep flicking to the top of the wall but there is no sign of her. It’s taken long minutes to kill the horde off. She could be one off the bodies buried amongst the masses. Mixed emotions course through me. Hatred for her, for the way she lured us in, but also a part of me thinks that maybe she wasn’t in control of what was happening. That the disease was doing it, making her act in a way she didn’t realise.
The desire I had for her was so strong. I couldn’t think of anything else and I would have both penetrated and kissed her if Meredith hadn’t taken her off me. There is no doubt in my mind I would have done it. There was absolutely no element of hesitation or second thought. Whatever she did to me effectively rendered me helpless. What scares me the most is that I don’t think I would have stopped if she had asked me to. I was too far gone. The aggression in me right at that point was frightening. If she had of said no I would have just taken it.
That thought sickens me, for no matter what she is, it makes me realise what I would have done and what I would have become. Never in all my life have I felt like before and I hope to god it never happens again.
‘Mr Howie, you okay?’ Nick makes his way quickly towards me, taking care to not to trip over the squelchy bodies underfoot.
Nodding back I hand him a fresh clip of ammunition and another pistol I just checked. He takes them both, fixing the magazine into his assault rifle and quickly checking the pistol for
himself. Good skills taught by Dave and now ingrained.
The rest follow behind him, going straight for the weapons to repeat the actions of Nick.
Cookey looks at me as he shoves a pistol into his belt, ‘what happened?’ he asks weakly, shaking his head. He looks young and innocent, the natural inclination to ask the leader for guidance and answers.
‘You first,’ I reply, ‘what happened here?’
‘I was about the get shagged by a load of fit women until Clarence knocked them over like bowling pins,’ Blowers explains.
‘That’s nothing,’ Cookey groans, ‘April was going for me…I knew she fancied me.’
‘Enough of the fucking jokes,’ I snap and stares across at all three of them. They look at me with surprise, ‘they weren’t women, they were undead…filthy diseased undead. This was the only way they could get to us and it almost worked.’
‘Eh?’ Nick asks quietly with a confused expression.
‘Everything they’ve thrown at us has failed…Darren…the Isle of Wight…they took the fort and sent everyone out for us but we walked away each and every time without a fucking mark on us…I’m not boasting but there can’t be many groups like us that have killed so many and got away with it…’
‘Mr Howie,’ Dave nods as he steps towards the back of the Saxon, nodding like normal, like nothing has happened, like we just bumped into each other in the corridor at work. The dog sniffs about, panting hard and wagging her tail as she moves between the lads. Clarence stands quietly, resting his back against the wall; even he now holds his axe in one hand and the rifle in the other.
‘When we first saw Marcy out there,’ I nod towards the front of the fort, ‘it felt like…I don’t know…Like I had fallen in love at first sight, this overwhelming feeling of…of…something…it was incredible. She was all I could think about, when we were fighting, after the battle, in here, when we were eating…I couldn’t take my eyes off her. We went out the back and the next thing I knew she was naked and sitting on top of me…’
‘Did you have a headache?’ Clarence asks quietly.
‘Yeah, pounding, but it was more than that…I was obsessed with having her, I don’t mean to be graphic but all I could think about was…well…you know.’
‘Fucking her?’ Cookey asks.
‘Cookey, for fucks sake,’ Blowers chastises him.
‘Yeah pretty much,’ I nod, feeling ashamed but knowing this has to be discussed.
‘Same here, I was talking to April…she looked fucking lovely but then she looked lovely anyway…but…’ Cookey trails off, looking at the floor, ‘I don’t know, she started coming onto me and even though I knew she was infected and I would catch zombie from her…’
‘Dick,’ Blowers mutters.
‘Fuck you, I would have caught zombie from her but I didn’t care.’
‘Same,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘but I heard Dave shouting and somehow managed to get her off me.’
‘Yeah by throwing her at me,’ Blowers says.
‘Sorry mate, she didn’t hit you though.’
‘No fair one, glad you did it…cheers Clarence.’
‘Anytime,’ Clarence nods.
Nick draws a pack of smokes from his pocket and hands them round, ‘you’re all wet boss.’
‘Meredith took us both in the sea.’
‘Do what?’ Cookey asks.
‘Marcy was on top of me, both of us had our kit off, Meredith came charging out and must have hit us so hard we all went in the water…’
‘Bloody hell,’ Cookey looks down at the dog, ‘yeah she’s still wet, good girl…who’s a good girl?’ He rubs her head as she snakes round his legs wagging her tail, ‘you saved Mr Howie from shagging the zombie didn’t you…yes you did! Who’s a good girl?’
A snort of laughter bursts from my mouth, ‘was Mr Howie about to catch zombie? But you saved him didn’t you…yes you did,’ he carries on with the baby talk, knowing he’s getting a few chuckles from the rest of us.
‘I think,’ he says standing up with a big grin, ‘that despite April being a dirty infected zombie that is now dead from being killed by Dave…she is still the fittest girl that I have ever seen and I will hold a special place for her in my heart.’
‘She was trying to kill you you fucking moron,’ Nick laughs.
‘With love…killing me with love,’ Cookey replies seriously, ‘we would have got married and had little zombie babies and lived happily ever after.’
‘How did they do it?’ Blowers asks me.
‘Pheromones,’ Dave replies without looking up from checking the weapons, ‘one of them came to me while I was giving the dog some water, took her top off and stood there like I should be doing something…the dog either sensed it or smelled it and reacted. Must have been pheromones, pumped out to make you all get weird.’
‘Shit,’ Cookey exclaims.
‘Fucking hang on,’ I step forward, ‘she did what?’
‘What?’ He looks at me.
‘Say that again, what did she do?’
‘Which bit?’
‘All of it.’
‘I said she came over to me, she was walking strange and swaying her hips and making her breasts jiggle about, she stopped in front of me and when I didn’t do anything she took her top off….then just stood there…what?’ He asks, looking at us pissing ourselves laughing at the thought of some poor zombie woman stood there confused wondering why he wasn’t responding. ‘What? What’s so funny?’
‘Did she say anything?’ Cookey asks between laughs.
‘No,’ Dave shakes his head, ‘just stood there topless…Why is that funny?’ He looks round at Clarence braying like a donkey against the wall then down at Cookey kneeling on the ground clutching his sides. ‘Mr Howie?’ He asks me. I’m sat on the back step of the Saxon leaning forward as tears fall down my face.
‘Poor girl,’ I try to mutter, ‘what did you do?’
‘Killed her,’ he replies flatly with just a hint of huffiness at all of us laughing. His answer sets us off again.
‘You cold bastard…’ I gasp between breaths, ‘you could have at least taken her out to dinner first.’ That’s it. We’re off. All of us letting the tension go by pissing ourselves laughing at the thought of it. Dave stood there in front of a topless zombie girl, both of them wondering what to do next so he does what he always does and chops her head off.
‘Did…oh god,’ Cookey moans, ‘did she have nice boobs?’
‘I don’t know,’ Dave replies stiffly, ‘I didn’t look.’
‘Why not?’ I ask.
‘Would have been rude,’ he mutters quietly, looking away as Nick and Blowers sink to the floor.
It takes minutes to compose ourselves. Each time we gather our senses one of us looks at the other and starts off again. All of us crying and moaning at the pains in our stomachs. Dave stands with his back to the wall and folds his arms, a posture I have never seen him do and which makes him look positively sulky.
‘This is childish,’ he mutters, which just sets us off again, ‘call me when you’ve finished, I’m going to check for crawlers, come on,’ he clicks at the dog, taking her away with him.
‘Don’t look at any boobs,’ I call out.
‘Okay Mr Howie…Ah…very funny.’
Pulling a case of water from the back of the vehicle I throw the bottles out at the lads, trying to do something with my hands so I stop laughing so much. The laughing dies down to random giggles as we drink water and smoke cigarettes. A deep chuckle emitting from Clarence every few minutes.
‘Finished?’ Dave walks back into our circle.
‘Sorry Dave, no offence mate,’ I say between a fresh burst of chuckling, ‘why didn’t they work on you?’
‘What?’
‘The pheromones?’ I ask.
‘The boobs?’ Cookey quips which just sets us off again.
‘Take your time….whenever you’re ready,’ Dave stands there watching us.
‘Sorry, that was it ma
te…no more I promise.’
‘I don’t know why they didn’t work, I’m different to all of you.’
‘How?’
‘I can’t read social situations or people, I don’t understand the meanings within what people say…I don’t have sympathy or empathy, I can’t relate someone else’s situation to my own experiences…’ His words cease the laughing quickly, a sudden thought they we could be offending him deeply, ‘I have Autism and Asperger’s syndrome…I was tested in the services.’
‘Shit…sorry Dave…we weren’t laughing at you, it was just a funny concept,’ I say softly.
‘I understand that,’ he smiles, quick and natural which changes his face instantly, ‘I can see why you would find it funny but I don’t relate to it…’
‘But you know everything,’ Cookey says quickly and with real meaning.
‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘Mr Howie does, I don’t…Clarence knows more about life than I do…all of you know more about girls…and movies…and things like that…’
‘Dave, can I ask something mate? Do you ever find things funny? You know…like what makes you laugh?’
He thinks for a second before replying, ‘I don’t really laugh, I do on the inside sometimes, Laurel and Hardy and Charlie Chaplin…they are good, but I don’t show emotion…that’s the Asperger’s…do you remember Morecambe and Wise?’
‘Yeah course,’ I reply.
‘Who are they?’ Nick asks.
‘Old comedy act, my Granddad loved them,’ Blowers replies.
‘They did a sketch when they were cooking breakfast to music…’
‘I remember it,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘in dressing gowns and they had the sausage strings pulled from the fridge.’
‘That made me laugh,’ Dave says proudly.
The biggest speech he has ever made to us, and he’s let us know him as a person. Something passes between us. A bond that strengthens. Surrounded by death and killing every day since this began. Watching our loved ones getting cut down but right now, we all feel it. That even if Dave opens up to us there is something special.