The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  Alone now and he fights the best way he knows. He doesn't have to monitor Mr Howie or any of the team. It is just him and them. His sole focus is which space to slide into and which throat to penetrate next.

  When they surge in too hard and close the gaps he uses the falling body of an undead as a stepping stone to leap high and plummet down further away. Creating confusion and mayhem. It’s dark and it takes them seconds to know where he is, just a trail of bodies that fall, one after the other after the other.

  Those fallen bodies create trip hazards and Dave tracks his own progress working in certain direction to force the oncoming ranks to go over those bodies, knowing some will trip and create gaps he can use to his advantage.

  His energy is relentless. His life force unstoppable. He knows that while they are coming for him, they are leaving the others alone. This gives them something to focus on and lets the everyone else have a chance to rest, wherever they might be.

  On the tips of his toes he pirouettes, one knee bent to provide balance for the central fugal force as his outstretched arms rip through neck after neck.

  Down he goes, dropping to take an apparent bow but he slides several steps back into the space he had already seen. The knives are thrust backwards, driving the points into two throats, he drops again and takes more steps back, hacking left and right through Achilles heels to force them down onto the ground.

  Like playing cards they drop and Dave is no longer in that space. Two huge strides and he is deep within the ranks again, weaving and dancing. His face looks serene and content. His breathing, although harder and faster than normal is controlled.

  He gives bursts of energy, driving his body to work to the maximum capability, sensing his heart rate bursting higher. That burst of speed and power allows him to fell many within a few seconds and create a much larger space.

  Then he rests, sliding back into the ranks to allow his heart rate to recover, controlling his breathing with deep breaths. All around him they growl and roar, they howl and snarl but they die.

  Howie once joked that all they ever needed was Dave with his knives and looking down there is a small man in the middle of a huge pressing horde of writing bodies driven by the virus within them to destroy this thing that cuts so many hosts down.

  Ten

  Day Fourteen

  Thursday

  On her feet, meat cleaver gripped tight and ready, eyes wide and staring as her heart races. Meredith jumps to her feet instantly, growling at the sight of Lani going from full sleep to fighting pose. The dog stares about looking for the threat that the woman must be seeing. She spins, checking all directions but her excellent eyes and ears detect nothing.

  Lani breathes hard and becomes aware of her actions, not knowing why she leapt to her feet but here she is, up and ready. Legs shaking and her mouth so dry she can barely swallow, her head pounds from dehydration as slowly she lowers the weapon and looks about.

  Strong sunlight streaming through the open sides of the car park forces the shadows of the night to retreat in. The ever continuing battle between light and dark. A noise behind has her spinning round only to see Meredith squatting to take a long piss, the urine pooling out between her back legs. Finished she stands up and turns to sniff at the puddle, seemingly satisfied she walks closer to Lani and stares up.

  Where are the team? What happened to Howie and the others? Those thoughts flood into her mind only to be trounced by a raging thirst that burns through her insides. Throat dry and painful, mouth drier and even her eyes feel sore and dry.

  Neither of them will be any good if they don’t drink and rehydrate, and with the threat of another scorching day, that action needs to be sooner rather than later. Walking towards the vehicle ramp, she takes in the mangled bodies with an instant over-powering feeling that she will see Howie or one of the others amongst the corpses.

  Lani stops with her eyes screwed tight, dreading the view of seeing her team amongst the corpses. With a deep breath she opens her eyes and scans the bodies, searching for any tell-tale sign of them. Nothing here and she pauses, wondering if to go higher or head out for a drink. The thirst is severe, but what if one of the them were lying injured, unable to move or crawl away. With that thought imprinted in her mind she doesn't hesitate but to start back up the ramp towards the top.

  Meredith moves over the bodies without concern, her natural four wheel drive giving her excellent traction control. She views the remains with relative ease, checking what’s left of ruined faces, hair colour and clothing. Lani keeps moving up to the top level, grimacing at the sheer numbers taken down during the fighting. The twisted body parts that were thrown at them still litter the area, spent ammunition cases and useless weapons thrown aside as the youths went for hand weapons.

  She spots the large circular swathes cut down by Clarence wielding his double bladed axe and the never ending amount of throats slit open from Dave’s knives.

  A sadness steals through her heart at the sight of the first youth, easily recognisable from the cleaner clothes and fresh look of the corpse. Taken and turned, only to be cut down minutes later. More of them lie fallen amongst the piles and a sense of guilt adds to the conflict of emotions that she feels.

  Meredith is nose down following familiar scent tracks to the door leading to the stairwell, whining as she paws at the closed doors. Lani moves over, spotting the small pile of assault rifles stripped of magazines. The sight suggests someone gathered the fallen weapons to use whatever ammunition was left.

  Would Maddox think to do that? It smacks of something Dave would do, or maybe Nick and it’s a good idea. She pulls her pistol out and checks the magazine, still full. The hand weapon was unused during the fight so at least she still has a sidearm. She picks one of the rifles up and checks the breech and moving parts before starting to sift through the bodies searching for any magazines left.

  Everything has been spent and used but she keeps the rifle with her, pushing an empty magazine in before looping it round her back on the strap. Plenty of weapons here, shotguns, rifles and some of the weapons sourced from the refinery too. Biting her bottom lip, she worries about leaving them here, knowing how hard it was to find them in the first place.

  Too many to carry, that’s for sure. Instead she gathers them up, wincing as the pain in her head explodes every time she bends down, followed by a wave of dizziness when she stands back up.

  A flash of memory, of Tom in the back of the Saxon complaining about feeling sick and weak and Clarence telling him about heat exhaustion. He said to drink loads of fluids and rehydrate and that’s what she needs to do now. The feeling is distracting to the point of being unable to focus on anything else. Drink. Find water. Her body screaming out that she may be fit and small, she may have greater stamina than most, but even she needs fluids.

  With the weapons stacked on the inside of the doors to the stairwell, she starts heading down, clocking the injuries sustained to the corpses. Clear axe marks, skulls cleaved open and limbs hacked through. No doubt about it, after days of fighting alongside the others, she would recognise the wounds better than any pathologist.

  Someone came down here and fought their way out. The thought gives her hope, propelling her to move faster which just brings on a fresh wave of nausea. Biting it down, Lani snarls with contempt, refusing to let the ill feeling take over.

  At the bottom she stares in wonder at the deep pile of bodies and feels a deep sense of pride that whoever came down here took so many down. Out into the sunshine and she thinks of who it could have been, which only serves to enhance the feeling of pride. It could have been any apart from Dave, their fighting abilities are now so good it’s almost impossible to tell them apart.

  If she had to guess she would say Blowers and Cookey, simply for the fact the number of bodies that have been taken down suggests two worked together. Could have been Clarence?. No, she saw Clarence at the rear of the Saxon going down the ramp. So it must have been one of the lads.

  Shielding
her eyes from the sun she steps through the bodies and takes in the surrounding view. The High Street still burns fiercely, with long rows of shops now well alight with thick black smoke billowing up into the sky. Several junctions lead off to residential side streets with rows of houses on either side.

  Lani stares up at the thick smoke pluming into the air, a perfect smoke signal and something everyone can aim for. Clarence got away with the Saxon so it’s only a matter of time before he gets back. Turning round she takes in the surrounding streets, looking at each junction in turn. A long line of bodies mark the route the Saxon took down the main road. If the lads got away from here they would head for the shelter of the side streets, somewhere they could hunker down and get water.

  Nodding to herself she sets off for the nearest junction, purposefully keeping to the middle of the road and watching Meredith as she runs round in large loops with her nose to the ground. With luck the dog will pick up on the scent of the lads and lead her to them. But didn’t Howie say the dogs had to be trained to do that? Maybe all dogs have the natural ability but have to be trained to show the handler where the trail leads.

  Into the first street and she stares closely at the first houses, looking at the doors and windows. She wouldn’t choose one that was too smashed in as it would be indefensible, likewise something that was completely intact would stand out too much. The first few are discounted simply for the sheer amount of damage they have sustained but the further from the town she goes, the less the damage is apparent.

  Meredith stops and spins back, her nose just millimetres above the ground. Lani watches her closely as she loops round and round then stays still for long seconds, sniffing one spot over and over. Then she’s off, tracing a route down the pavement and actually weaving in the pattern someone would take if they were running.

  There are no bodies here, which suggests whoever came this way managed to evade any undead coming after them.

  The dog veers a sharp left, turning into a front garden where she pursues the scent trail to the front door, then stops and looks back at Lani as if to say well open it then.

  Smiling she gently presses down on the door handle. The front door is intact with just some minor signs of damage and it opens inwards. With one hand clutching the dogs collar, she steps in quietly and stares down the hall to the two bodies slumped against the kitchen cupboards.

  The smile stretches into a grin as she notices Cookey has slumped down to rest his head on Blowers shoulder, a thick spool of saliva drips from his slightly open mouth as they both snore peacefully. She pats her pockets, searching for her IPod to use the camera, remembering it’s in the Saxon rigged up to the loudspeaker. That would be perfect, a picture of these two slumbering together like this.

  ‘Good morning!’ She booms instead, watching with glee as they both jump out their skins. They are instantly awake and on their feet, both of them staring with wide eyes at the fright of being woken like that. ‘You left the door unlocked,’ Lani continues cheerfully, ‘what would Dave say? Both of you sleeping like that? Tut tut….’

  ‘Eh?’ Blowers stares as though entranced, his face a picture of shock and surprise at the sight of Lani stood there grinning. She lets the dog go, watching as she sprints down the hall to the lads, whining with pleasure as she snakes round their legs.

  ‘Lani!’ Cookey eventually says, blinking hard as he tries to shake the sleep from his mind, ‘what you doing here?’

  ‘Meredith found you,’ Lani replies. She heads straight for the sink and lifts the plastic bowl out, emptying the contents before twisting the tap on to re-fill it. ‘I figured it was you two that went down the stairs…’

  ‘Yeah,’ Blowers nods, still clearly reeling from the rude awakening.

  ‘I saw Clarence going off with the Saxon and some of Maddox’s lot, he must have had Paula and Roy with him…’

  ‘Yeah he did,’ Cookey cuts in, ‘we were on the top when all hell broke out, poor kids got taken down at the door so we took it…’

  ‘I saw the bodies,’ Lani replies grimly, placing the bowl down she watches for a second as Meredith dives straight in, her long pink tongue lapping at the liquid. Grabbing a glass she fills it and starts drinking, savouring the perfection of cool water cascading into her dry mouth and soothing her burning throat.

  ‘That’s so nice,’ she mutters, re-filling the glass to drink again.

  Blowers rubs his eyes and stretches, groaning from the ache in his tired muscles. Cookey, watching Blowers, catches the yawn and follows up with one of his own before ferreting through his pockets for cigarettes.

  ‘You seen the boss?’ Blowers asks, his voice low and worried.

  Shaking her head, Lani finishes the second glass and slowly moves it away from her mouth, ‘no, I went through the bodies as best I could but nothing…someone had taken all the weapons apart on the top level, looked like they were going through them for ammunition…’

  ‘Dave?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘Sort of thing he’d do,’ Lani nods.

  ‘Or Nick,’ Blowers adds, ‘he’s switched on like that, any sign of him?’

  ‘None,’ Lani shakes her head again.

  ‘Fuck,’ Cookey sighs, placing his hands on the top of his head as a deeply worried look crosses his face, ‘what now?’ he asks quietly.

  ‘What happened to you then?’ Blowers cuts in.

  ‘I went after Howie but lost him,’ Lani explains, ‘I got down onto the second level and got stuck with a group coming after me, that’s when Meredith found me…we kept looking round and I saw the Saxon go down but couldn’t get close to it…we backed off and…’

  ‘You been there all night?’ Cookey asks, ‘bloody hell, didn’t they find you?’

  ‘They’ve all gone,’ she replies, ‘I did the same as you and passed out, woke up and the place was deserted….I reckon they went after the Saxon.’

  ‘Clarence will come back,’ Blowers nods to himself.

  ‘That’s what I figured, get some water and we’ll head back to wait, there’s loads of weapons left there too but no rounds.’

  ‘That empty then?’ Blowers nods at the assault rifle strapped to her back.

  ‘It’s for show,’ she gives a quick grin, re-filling the glass for another long drink.

  ‘Fuck,’ Cookey groans again, ‘so Clarence went off with the Saxon, Dave went after the boss …and what about Nick? Where did he go? Did he get out with the Saxon? Hang on….shit it was him up top firing…yeah…yeah definitely he was up top.’

  ‘You saw him?’ Lani asks quickly.

  ‘Definitely,’ Cookey nods firmly.

  ‘Thank fuck for that, so just Dave and the boss then?’ Blowers says.

  ‘Did you see the way they went after him?’ Cookey says, ‘just fucking swirling round all crazy and shit…he got sucked right in…’

  ‘He was still fighting though,’ Blowers adds quickly, ‘and Dave was right after him.’

  ‘We need to get back,’ Lani urges, ‘get some water while I use the bathroom.’

  ‘There’s no bog roll if going for a poo,’ Cookey calls out.

  ‘Thanks Cookey,’ Lani shouts as she heads up the stairs.

  ‘Use some of the clothes they left,’ Cookey shouts helpfully.

  ‘I don’t need a poo, thanks all the same though.’

  ‘You are a fucking nightmare,’ Blowers shakes his head, filling two glasses he passes one over and starts drinking his own down, burping noisily as he finishes it off.

  ‘Look at the state of her,’ Cookey nods at the dog still lapping at the water. Blowers glances down, grimacing at the fur matted with dried blood and the water in the bowl now a pink colour from the blood that had dried and congealed round her muzzle and made wet again from her messy drinking.

  ‘Any cloths in there?’ Cookey points to the cupboard under the sink.

  ‘Check the garden mate, might be a hose we can use.’

  ‘He’s a bossy fucker isn’t he,’ Cookey says to the dog, ‘alw
ays bossing me about isn’t he, yes he is…’

  ‘Fuck you, have you found a hose yet?’

  ‘Does it look like it?’ Cookey asks, his hand still on the closed door handle.

  ‘What about now?’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘What about now,’ Blowers repeats as Cookey gets the door open, stepping out into the bright sunshine.

  ‘Shit it’s hot out here.’

  ‘It’s hot in here,’ Blowers counters.

  ‘It’s fucking hot everywhere, here mate…bring her outside.’

  ‘She’s still drinking,’ Blowers replies.

  ‘Well duh! Bring the bowl out then.’

  ‘Clever fucker,’ Blowers mutters. Picking the bowl up, he heads into the garden, throwing the contents onto the dried up flower beds as Cookey twists the hose on. They fill the bowl first then start on Meredith, the cool spray hitting her flanks and soaking into her matted coat.

  ‘She’s filthy,’ Blowers comments.

  ‘Just like your mum then,’ Cookey quips.

  ‘She’s filthier than my mum.’

  ‘Not possible…sorry mate but it’s…’

  ‘She alright?’ Lani calls out, walking through the kitchen to the back door. Her face freshly scrubbed and hair rinsed of the gore from the nights events.

  ‘You wearing a different top?’ Cookey asks with a puzzled glance.

  ‘Found it in one of the drawers, fits okay,’ Lani looks down at the plain black t shirt, ‘there’s more stuff up there, you had a look yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Blowers replies, pushing his finger over the end of the hose to make the spray come out harder.

  ‘Er…well maybe you should,’ Lani says in a blunt tone, ‘you’re both filthy…on second thoughts, keep doing that and I’ll find something…you should get those trousers rinsed off, they’ll have dirty blood all over them.’

  ‘Oh my god,’ Cookey gives a theatrical cry, ‘you’re both so bossy,’ shaking his head he carries on muttering to himself.