The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  But that only lasted a couple of days. Then it became weird and William missed his mother. He missed watching cartoons and playing in the field nearby. He missed playing on the Wii and the DS. He didn’t like candles anymore and now he was hungry and growing increasingly listless from being cooped up for so long. He knew something was wrong as normally his big sister would snap at him when he annoyed her, but now she didn’t. She was being so patient and kind that without knowing it, it freaked William out.

  When the power went off they used the gas oven to feast on the contents of the fridge and freezer. Three hungry mouths soon devoured that and then it was down to snack food. Once that was depleted, Lilly’s father was left with no choice but to venture out to scavenge for supplies.

  As the days went on, the pickings got worse and the last time he went out, just two days ago, he found all the local houses had been ransacked. Being so close to the town centre, the location chosen simply because of the size of the old property and the low rent, he saw first-hand the devastation wrought from the event. Dead bodies rotting, shops smashed and looted, cars burnt out and those things. He, like everyone else, knew what zombies were but the thought of actually calling them that was too much.

  ‘Dad,’ Lilly prompts, snapping her father back to reality.

  ‘You’re right,’ he sighs deeply.

  ‘I am?’ She asks with genuine surprise.

  Nodding, he sags and rests one shoulder against the frame of the door. Removing his glasses to clean the lenses on his shirt tails, he repeats himself, ‘you’re right, we have to go.’

  ‘Christ Dad,’ Lilly exclaims, ‘what…what changed your mind?’

  ‘Everything you said,’ he looks up, pushing his glasses back up his nose, ‘sensible, just like your mother,’ he smiles sadly, ‘she was always the sensible one you know, always had common sense whereas I,’ he looks down at the floor as Lilly feels the first prick of tears forming, ‘was just a bloody fool.’

  ‘You’re not a fool Dad,’ she whispers.

  ‘I was love. I was greedy and wanted more. Your mother knew the recession was coming and told me to ease back but I didn’t listen, I kept pumping the money back into the business…’ he trails off as Lilly listens intently. He never spoke about it. He was just quiet and tried acting like everything was okay. For the first time in her life, she saw her father as a man, not just a dad.

  ‘So now you’re the sensible one,’ he grins quickly and this time with real humour in his eyes. Sadly, the look drains away as quickly as it came.

  ‘We’ll be okay Dad, we’ll leave notes so Mum knows where to look…when are we going?’

  ‘Tomorrow, first thing in the morning,’ he replies, ‘we’ll make a game of it with William, then once we’re somewhere far away I’ll try and tell him what’s happened.’

  ‘Okay,’ she nods. Her choice would be to tell William as soon as possible and before they leave the house but it was enough that her dad was finally relenting.

  ‘I’ll go out now and get us some supplies,’ he says more to himself than to Lilly, ‘er…Billy wants some sweets or cake, yeah…should definitely look for some sweets. Maybe find a comic book or something for him? What do you think?’

  ‘Er…yeah you could,’ Lilly replies slowly, ‘or just er…get whatever you can grab quickly, anything will do until we’re out of the town.’

  Andrew straightens up and visibly tries to stiffen his resolve, nodding with firm action as he looks towards the barricaded front door.

  Lilly follows him about quietly as he prepares to leave, changing from a white shirt to a black one used for funerals. Taking an empty rucksack, he quietly starts moving furniture away from the door.

  ‘Dad,’ Lilly calls, holding the long bladed knife out to him.

  ‘We’ve discussed this Lilly,’ Andrew turns back, ignoring the knife to carry on making a path to the door.

  ‘Just take it Dad.’

  ‘No, I don’t plan on getting close enough to use it and besides, if I brandish a weapon then other people might think to use one. Violence doesn't solve anything Lilly. Diplomacy, talking and making sure you don’t get caught out are the best strategies.’

  She drops the hand holding the knife, knowing she would take it if she was going out there, but her father was a staunch pacifist. She had always admired this trait in her father, that his belief in non-violence resolutions should always be sought. Lately, however, along with the growing frustration she felt, she started to internally question if it really was pacifism or just plain cowardice.

  After pausing to listen for long seconds, he slowly prises the letterbox open and peers outside. Only when absolutely sure the area is clear, does he crack the front door open, sliding through the small gap.

  ‘I’ll be a couple of hours at most.’

  ‘Okay Dad…Dad?’ She calls out quietly but too late, the door is closed. Standing there for a second, she places the knife on the kitchen side before locking the front door, pushing the bolts home and heaving the barricade back.

  With the candle in the kitchen extinguished she pulls back the thick blanket covering the window, staring down at the quiet deserted street. As they lived on the first floor of an old house, they had a private front stairwell going down to their own front door. Apparently that made the flat a maisonette, something her mother kept saying whenever she spoke to family or friends.

  Lilly watches as her father comes into view, crouching down between the brick pillars at the end of the garden path, cautiously checking the street before proceeding up and out of sight.

  Staring out she takes in the view of the darkened houses, all of them looking foreboding and eerie. Dark shadows and just the moonlight giving illumination.

  Twelve days stuck inside and she longs to be outside. With the windows closed and covered by thick blankets, the heat within the flat became oppressive, and the long sweaty hours passed even slower with nothing to do. All the books had been read, all the magazines flicked through. Clothes had been tidied and made neat. Everything that could be done was done.

  With her father gone, she waits a few more minutes before sliding the clasp back on the window and pushing the wooden framed lower pane up. In disappointment she realises the outside air is pretty much the same as inside. Hot and listless. No breeze or cooling quality at all. But it still felt different.

  She thought of school and her friends. Well, the friends from her old private school. She hadn’t seen that much of them lately. Moving to the comprehensive state school was a necessity that she understood so she did it with minimal complaint. She was a good student with high grades and tried to keep a low profile. At fifteen she looked older, with a developed body and a figure most models would die for. Long naturally blond hair and striking blue eyes. The years at private school had taught her to speak properly, pronouncing each letter of each word as they should be pronounced. Her looks, the way she spoke and her high intelligence made Lilly a perfect target for bullying. The local girls detested her on sight. The lads adored her and flocked round her whenever possible, which only heightened the perception of arrogance and the other girls believing she thought she was better than they were.

  Even trying to dull her looks didn’t work. Wearing baggier tops to hide her figure, not wearing any make-up and stopping styling her hair just served to make her more attractive. She was a natural beauty and couldn’t be anything else.

  Lilly took it without complaint. Her parents had enough worries to deal with without having her bullying issue to sort out too.

  Thankfully, Billy was young enough not to notice the change in lifestyle and, as young children do, he adapted easily and loved having his dad at home every day.

  Closing the window, she tucked the blanket back in place and moved into her bedroom, pausing at the door as she thought of what to pack. They had to stay light and only take essentials. She would have to be brutal with her choice but it had to be done.

  Placing the candle on her dresser she commenced
sorting and packing, moving between the rooms to sort clothes into piles and then digging bags out to see what would fit and what wouldn’t.

  It was boring and dreary but it passed the time and pretty soon her mind was occupied enough not to notice the how long it had been since her father had left.

  Seven

  Breathing hard he pauses at the end of the street. Fear and exertion made his heart rate rocket and he fought to get it under control, convincing himself that it must actually be audible it was hammering so loud.

  So far he had seen nothing of concern. Just dark streets with dark houses, dark cars and even darker sections of deep shadows.

  Since the breakdown, everything had terrified him. Realising that his strong, successful business could be taken away so easily made him question everything about his life. Fundamentally undermining every facet of his existence. Guilt was the worse one. Guilt that his daughter was forced the change schools, he had seen the change in her. Going from a vibrant young lady wearing figure hugging clothes to the plain attire she now dressed in. But he simply didn’t have the mental strength to deal with the reasons. That added to the guilt. His wife, forced to go back to care work, that added to the guilt. Losing their home, the cars, the boat, the lifestyle, it all added to the guilt and ate away at his soul.

  This event, as bad as it might be, served to put all people back on an even keel. Wealth and prestige no longer mattered. Who you were before the event was no longer relevant. What mattered was what you did now, what decisions you made. Andrew could have seized this and gathered his former strength, but the rot was too deep and the fear too strong. Now, with his wife gone, he was barely holding it together.

  Moving down the street he knew he had to keep going, these houses had all been checked. Someone had been through them all, removing every trace of food from every single one of them. Nothing was left, it was systematic and thorough and that worried Andrew. Somebody was organised and making efforts to gather supplies, and they were prepared to kill for it.

  Finding the home owner of one of the houses stabbed through the chest in the kitchen made him realise that. The body was a normal man. Not a zombie, and he was old too. And old man dressed in pyjamas with thin grey hair, not a threat to anyone.

  It was image that sprung to mind when Lilly was urging him to take them away. Accepting the fact that his wife was now gone was too much, so he clung to the belief that she was trapped or stuck somewhere and would eventually make her way back. In the meantime, they would have to leave and get somewhere safer.

  At the next street he approached the first house, tentatively staring all around in case of movement or sound. The front door was like the previous street, battered open to hang from the near broken hinges. He knew this house had been ransacked before going inside. When he did finally reach the kitchen a cursory glance told him it had been emptied.

  The next house was the same, and the next. All the houses had been done and he was forced to move further away from his home in search of food.

  With a sizable distance between him and the town centre, Andrew follows the twisting lanes and avenues until he reaches an old estate, the kind of place heavily populated by the elderly with perfectly manicured gardens and older style small cars on driveways.

  Hardly believing his luck, he spots the small corner shop near the entrance to the estate. A family run convenience store, somewhere the locals could get bread and milk, play the lottery and get the newspaper.

  The door was open but otherwise it looked intact. The windows weren’t smashed in and even the houses round here didn’t look in that bad a state. Maybe whoever was gathering all the food hadn’t reached this far yet, or had just carried on by on the main road.

  Tracing a route down the street he clings to the side, staying in the shadows. His hands tremble and his nervous eyes dart furtive looks in every direction. With yards to go, he keeps his eyes fixed on the door set into the corner, pauses to check and steps round, yelping with fright at the other man stepping round from the other side of the street.

  With a startled cry from both of them they quickly back up and hold still, both of them ready to turn and flee. Andrew feels his heart bursting with fright and quickly takes stock of the other man. Middle aged with greying brown hair, medium build with a paunch and wearing glasses. He looks just as frightened as Andrew and stares back wide eyed.

  ‘Hello,’ Andrew whispers, his voice quavering.

  ‘Hi,’ the other man nods back, his voice also full of fear.

  ‘Er…’ Andrew stammers.

  ‘Um….’the other man stutters.

  ‘I’m looking for food,’ Andrew finally manages to blurt out.

  ‘Me too,’ the other man replies, ‘where you from?’

  ‘By the town centre, you?’

  ‘That way,’ the man points off to the opposite direction, ‘nothing up your way then?’

  ‘No,’ Andrew shakes his head, still keeping his distance.

  ‘Same,’ the man says, ‘I haven’t been out for a few nights but we’ve run out.’

  ‘Me too,’ Andrew whispers, ‘my kids are starving.’

  ‘Yeah mine are.’

  ‘How many you got?’

  ‘Son and daughter, you?’

  ‘Same,’ Andrew nods, ‘no wife?’

  ‘We split up, it was my weekend with the kids,’ the man shrugs.

  ‘No word from her?’

  ‘No, nothing. Have you seen any police or army or anything?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Andrew shakes his head, ‘just dead bodies and…’

  ‘Yeah,’ the man says softly, ‘you heard about the fort? That’s where we’re going.’

  ‘No,’ Andrew says quickly, staring at the man.

  ‘I bumped into a bloke a couple of days ago, he said one of the forts on the coast is up and running. They got police and soldiers, like a proper government place with medics. Chap called Mr Howie runs it.’

  ‘Mr Howie? Never heard of him, is he like, a minister or something?’

  ‘The impression I got was that he’s from the army, got soldiers with him and army vehicles, you know, with proper machine guns and everything.’

  ‘Wow,’ Andrew blanches at the news, ‘we were going to head south tomorrow, just to, you know, get away from the town.’

  ‘Come with us,’ the man urges quietly, ‘got to be safer travelling together.’

  ‘Well, er…wow…er…that’s very kind of you.’

  ‘I’m Norman,’ the man takes a step forward with his hand held out.

  ‘Andrew, very nice to meet you Norman.’

  ‘Likewise Andrew, er…have you checked inside yet?’

  ‘Not yet, I was going to but er…well you scared the life out of me.’

  ‘I jumped rather high myself, er…shall we then? After you.’

  ‘Oh, er…thank you Norman.’

  ‘So we’ll just have to agree where to meet, oh dear…I think we’re too late.’

  ‘Yes, certainly looks that way,’ Andrew replies sadly looking at the empty shelves, the metal cover for the tobacco counter ripped back and the cash register lying on the ground.

  ‘Worth checking under the shelves do you think?’ Norman asks in a soft whisper.

  ‘Might as well,’ Andrew starts forward, dropping down to peer into the void between the base of the units and the linoleum floor, ‘we could meet here if it suits you.’

  ‘I was just thinking that,’ Norman replies, ‘the motorway is only a few miles away so we could aim for that, probably the quickest route.’

  ‘Hmmm, yes but er…’ Andrew lies down to grope into the empty space, the shadows too deep to see clearly, ‘bit dangerous though don’t you think?’

  ‘Good point,’ Norman grunts, ‘how about we follow the motorway then, you know, stick to the side.’

  ‘That could work,’ Andrew shifts position to reach under another unit, ‘oh I think I’ve got something here…definitely a tin, no…two tins…maybe more, I say could you r
each in from the other side?’

  ‘Hang on, where are you?’

  ‘Over here at the end.’

  ‘Oh right, yes got you now. Just by the middle? Is that right?’

  ‘Yes that’s it, they’re just out of reach.’

  ‘Okay, got something.’

  ‘Er…that’s my hand.’

  ‘Oh my mistake, sorry Andrew.’

  ‘No problem Norman, just there off to my left.’

  ‘Oh yes, got something, hang on I’ll prod it your way.’

  ‘Got it!’

  ‘There’s another one here, I’ll prod again, you ready?’

  ‘Yes, got it…that’s two, anymore there?’

  ‘Something here Andrew, can’t quite reach it.’

  ‘Oh yes, I can prod it your way if that helps?’

  ‘Please do, yes got it.’

  ‘Think that might be it, I can’t feel anything else.’

  ‘We’ve got three though Andrew, not too bad. Can you see what they are?’

  ‘Too dark,’ Andrew replies, grunting to his knees he gets up and moves towards the door and the light of the moon shining down. Joined by Norman they stare down at the prizes held.

  ‘Baked beans,’ Andrew remarks of the first tin held up, ‘and plum tomatoes.’

  ‘Oh well done old chap, let’s see…er…spaghetti hoops I think,’ Norman reports.

  ‘I feel bad now,’ Andrew comments, ‘I’ve got two and you’ve only got one and we’ve both got two children.’

  ‘They can have half a tin each, it’ll keep them going until we find something else tomorrow,’ Norman replies.

  ‘What about you? When did you last eat?’

  ‘Me? Oh I’m okay…’ Norman says in a forced light tone.

  ‘No, this isn’t right, er…well what about we share one tin between us now and each take a tin back for our children?’ Andrew suggests.

  ‘Oh I couldn’t do that,’ Norman replies.