The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  ‘Who cares about a bin bag?’ Sam asks, ‘just shove it somewhere, they’ve already been in here so they won’t come back.’

  ‘Good point, well done Sam, you girls are clever cookies aren’t you, eh Norman? Glad we’ve got two clear thinkers with us.’

  ‘Definitely,’ Norman strides back in still holding the items in his hands, realising he was just about to do what he has always done and start washing up.

  With everything shoved into cupboards out of sight they get ready and start heading out the back door, snaking round the house to walk quickly down the lane onto the country road.

  ‘We need to get off this road,’ Norman says quietly, playing up to feed the fear and nerves rippling through the small group. ‘We’re not safe,’ he adds keeping his gaze serious and far away, trying to effect the look of someone brave and serious.

  ‘Good idea,’ Andrew agrees quickly, ‘there’s a footpath up there, we should take that and go across the fields, stay out of sight.

  Norman leads the way to the narrow opening in the hedgerow, standing back as though to usher the others through and to bravely bring up the rear. Off the road they go, onto the narrow footpath that snakes along the edge of the fields running adjacent to the road, but hidden from view by the thick brambles and trees.

  Staring ahead, Norman finds his eyes flicking between his daughters backside and that of Lilly. Noticing the difference between Sam’s slim boyish figure and Lilly’s natural hour glass curves. He’d certainly never viewed his own daughter in anything other than fatherly love, and never any of her friends either but Lilly was different. For a start she didn’t look anywhere near fifteen, more like eighteen or nineteen and she acted older too. She didn’t use all the slang teen speech that Sam used, she spoke properly and had a serious look in her eye.

  Society had gone and the need to re-produce was important now. In olden times it was natural for older men to go with younger girls, the law to protect vulnerable girls was only ever brought in as their culture evolved. Anyway, in some parts of Europe the age of consent was still something like fourteen I think, because girls are physically able to have sex at that age. Loads of girls get pregnant at that age, I see all those council estate girls who have two or three kids by the time they’re sixteen.

  Lilly keeps glancing at me anyway. Her own father is a bit wet and weak so it’s only natural she would feel an attraction to him, maybe the start of a crush. Norman keeps going, each tread of his feet signify a further effort to justify his desires.

  Walking behind her father and holding Billy’s hand, she can feel his eyes boring into her. It feels almost like a hot tingling from the stare he is directing at her but those thoughts are pushed away. Her dad is here, Billy and Todd plus Samantha and the danger is coming from everything else, not this mild mannered man that is so similar to her own father, trying to be serious and manly but just looking stupid in the process.

  And it was a good idea of not taking a car from there. Those people – whoever they might be, would spot a missing car and might come looking. Something about that doesn't feel right. There must be loads of survivors all heading to different places which would mean lots of cars being taken. One doesn't make a difference. It could be another group of men, armed with guns or knives that took the car. Just because a car was taken, doesn’t mean that the group were vulnerable, nor would they know which direction they took.

  Still, they were heading away from there and that was the main thing. Keep going cross country for a few hours and find somewhere else to get a car and more food too. Thinking it through reminds her Samantha asking for tampax. They shouldn’t just get food but medicines too, like aspirin and anti-biotics and those creams you use for insect bites and rashes. All those sorts of things should be taken.

  The people at the fort will have thought of these things surely. If they’ve got a whole commune going with loads of people, then of course they’ll be considering all of these things and have stock-piles of medicines and things. They might even have a vaccine or something, or know what this is all about. Maybe her mother is there now. Lilly knows the odds of that are very low. If she was able to have got away from the care home then she would have come home and not to that fort.

  They just need to get there as quickly as possible.

  Thirteen

  ‘I thought this was the next one.’

  ‘It is, we did the others…I remember, it was the one with the big red Honda outside.’

  ‘It’s been done though, we must have done it.’

  ‘We didn’t, I know we didn’t. We did all those and stopped before the house with the big red Honda.’

  ‘Well it’s been done.’

  ‘Not by us.’

  ‘Eh? Who else would do it? This is our patch? Peter and his lot wouldn’t come this way, the doc said we had to stick to our maps. If those cunts have come onto our patch I’ll going fucking spare…’

  ‘They wouldn’t, maybe it was already like it…yeah…must have already been emptied by whoever lives here.’

  ‘Yeah, that makes sense, fuckers….why didn’t they take their car then?’

  ‘How the fuck would I know? Probably had two cars, these rich bastards out here have all got loads of cars.’

  ‘Cunts.’

  ‘Wankers.’

  ‘Do the next one then?’

  ‘I’ll get the van.’

  ‘Ere, look at that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you blind twat, down there on the ground.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, are you fucking blind? That packet of custard creams…see it?’

  ‘Got it, shit…did we drop that?’

  ‘No we didn’t come up to this house did we? We stopped at that one…we just fucking discussed this. We didn’t do the one with the big, red, fucking Honda…the custard creams are outside the house with the big, red, fucking Honda.’

  ‘Alright smart arse, don’t get chippy.’

  ‘So? Someone’s been here ain’t they, we’d have seen them biscuits.’

  ‘Would we fuck as like, they could have been there for days.’

  ‘In the countryside with all the foxes and badgers and shit.’

  ‘Fucking foxes don’t eat custard creams, how they gonna open the packet?’

  ‘Have you seen badgers eat? They’re strong as fuck, they’d have that open in seconds. Nah, someone’s been through here.’

  ‘Bollocks, so what if they have!’

  ‘You know what the doc said.’

  ‘Yeah but…’

  ‘What if he’s testing us?’

  ‘Really? You think he’d do that?’

  ‘Pete said he did it with Chris’s lot.’

  ‘Fuck, so what do we do? Take ‘em back or something?’

  ‘Yeah we take the custard creams back. He’s testing us with a packet of fucking custard creams…he wants to make sure we’re not eating them.’

  ‘Alright, don’t get chippy you sarcky fucker.’

  ‘We’ll have to check them houses, the ones we did already.’

  ‘Seriously? Fuck…it’s hot as fuck and I just want to get done and go back.’

  ‘Alright but you explain to the doc that we found a packet of custard creams and didn’t do fuck all about it.’

  ‘Fine, fucking fine…come on then…we’ll work down from here.’

  ‘Fucking hello.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Glasses on the side, they still got water in ‘em too, like wet round the top.’

  ‘Oh yeah, someone been in here then.’

  ‘Today too, this wasn’t like this before, check the rooms.’

  ‘You check the fucking rooms.’

  ‘I did the last one.’

  ‘No, we both did the last one…’

  ‘You’re fucking hard work you are, eh…smell that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fish…no…tuna, that’s fucking tuna that is.’

  ‘Smells like dirty pu
ssy.’

  ‘Ha, good one, fishy pussy…beans on the carpet too and smeared on the table.’

  ‘Hang on, someone wouldn’t take food from that house and eat it in this house….why not just eat it in that house?’

  ‘I dunno, fuck do you think I am? Uri fucking Gellar? Or that bloke who guessed the lottery numbers….what’s his name?’

  ‘Russell Grant.’

  ‘Fuck off! He does the stars and shit on the telly, no that bloke with the little beard…’

  ‘Chuck Norris? He had a beard?’

  ‘Jesus help me, yeah Chuck Norris guessed the lottery numbers…Brown or something, he’s got that first name?’

  ‘That helps, someone with a first name.’

  ‘No, like he’s got a first name but spells it different…Darren, no Derren Brown! Yeah him…’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Derren Brown? What about him?’

  ‘Er…can’t remember now. ‘Ere, they’ve shoved all the dirty shit in here.’

  ‘Let’s have a look, messy fucking weirdos. Who puts dirty dishes in a cupboard?’

  ‘Freaky.’

  ‘Fucking right.’

  ‘A few of ‘em too by the looks of it, they’ve opened everything.’

  ‘Is that Spam? I love Spam…is it all gone?’

  ‘Yes mate and we’ve got enough Spam to last like for-fucking-ever.’

  ‘Good, I love Spam.’

  ‘Fucking bean juice is still wet, that shit dries fucking quick especially in this heat, we must have only just missed ‘em.’

  ‘Ain't no one on the road though, we’d have seen ‘em.’

  ‘We gotta go look, the doc said other people are more important…’

  ‘Not just people but…’

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It don’t matter what he wants…’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘But you were going to, don’t…don’t say fuck all.’

  ‘Fine….What’s he want them for anyway?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t want to fucking know, just do as we’re told and get on with it, that’s my motto.’

  ‘He who dares wins, that’s mine.’

  ‘That’s the SAS, you can’t use their motto.’

  ‘Why not? It’s a good motto.’

  ‘Cos it’s their motto, get your own.’

  ‘Alright! Don’t get chippy, I’ll share yours then.’

  ‘No. Get your own.’

  ‘Every little helps then.’

  ‘That’s Tesco and that’s lame as fuck…you might as well have, hands that do dishes can be as soft as she wishes…’

  ‘I’ll think of one while we’re looking for these fuckers.’

  ‘Good, you do that.’

  Fourteen

  Eyes wide open and I’m sat bolt upright. Where am I? Where is everyone? Where’s Dave? What the fuck just happened? Paco has had a baby with my sister. Shit how the hell am I going to tell Clarence. No, hang on. That was a dream. Shit that was a strong feeling, it was so real. Like I could feel their presence. My mum and dad were there too, I spoke to them like they were really there.

  A memory, a real memory of the dream is in my mind now, like it really happened. I know it didn’t happen but it feels like it did so I’ll cling onto it with everything I have. Sadness rushes through me as I realise that if my parents are with Sarah and Paco they must be dead.

  Get a grip you idiot, it was just a dream. It wasn’t some message being relayed by the gods for the sole purpose of Howie the supermarket manager. It was a combination of dehydration, exhaustion and some wanker shoving a heart in my mouth.

  The thought makes me gag, I can still feel the rubbery fleshy texture of it. Hot and wet and still pumping, oh and the blood that came out of it. Shit that was gross. Leaning over and I retch as my stomach joins my head in agreement at the revolting memory of it. Water comes out which surprises me as I figured my stomach would be empty.

  That means I’ve been drinking. My face is clean too. No dried blood or scabby remains of the diseased zombie heart sticking to my stubble.

  Shit.

  Diseased zombie heart.

  That was in my mouth. Fuck, maybe I am one of them now. They brought me here and washed me off. No, it was Dave, I puked down the back of his leg. Or was that part of the dream?

  And where the fuck am I? It’s very dark in here, is it still night? The same night or another night?

  Confused is an understatement so I clamber to my feet, expecting a wave of dizziness but there isn’t anything. I feel fine. I feel completely normal. Well, a bit sore and tired but nothing other than that. I must be a zombie then. Marcy said it takes away all the bad feelings.

  Sighing, I resign myself to the thought and grope round for my pistol. It’s still there, hanging from my belt and in the dark I eject the magazine and feel the resistance of the rounds. Slotting it back in I know what must be done. Shot to the head, bang and it’s all over. Shame but what can you do? I’m not going to start rampaging round the country like Darren or Marcy.

  Will the infection let me shoot myself? What if it like freezes my finger or something so I can’t pull the trigger? I could jump out of a window I guess, but then it could stop me from doing that too. Oh, this needs some creative thinking. How do you do yourself in if you can’t do yourself in?

  Shit, that hurt my head. Maybe I should check before I shoot myself in the head. Yeah, need a mirror. Groping about I try and feel my way to the door and end up crashing into what I think is a television, then a set of chairs and a table. Completely disorientated and cursing foully, I somehow end up back where I was, falling over the sofa I just woke up on.

  I catch some weird noises coming from outside. Sounds like someone having sex with loads of grunting. Do zombies have sex? I’m not having sex with any zombies. Bugger that.

  Where the shitting hell is the sodding door. Am I a cave or something? Wall, got a wall so follow this and I should find the door. Corner, more wall….bloody television again. Oh well, that’s broke. What’s this? Something soft and velvety…a curtain? I give it a yank and end up spinning away at the searing pain in my eyes from the strong sunlight burning through.

  Stupid black-out curtains, who puts black-out curtains in a lounge? Shielding my eyes I find the door and stagger through, slowly blinking as my vision works to adjust. Mirror, there’s one, a big one by the front door so the vain buggers could check their important image before they went out for the day.

  Oh.

  Well.

  Interesting.

  Appears I’m immune then. Shock hits hard, so hard that it pretty much wipes out my tiny mind from thinking of anything ever again.

  Dropping my head down, I run through what happened last night. We were on the top level of that car park having a big scrap. Then they started swirling and I got dragged into that tunnel area. Then that one that was on top of me, I got my hands into his stomach and ripped his innards out. I check my hands to find them surprisingly clean. Someone has washed me.

  Then my hands on its face, didn’t I pop its eye out? Then the heart. Wasn’t just the heart though, there was loads of shit going in my mouth. The eye juice went in and blood was definitely going in as they were right on top of me and I was facing up.

  So I look up to double check, using the tips of my fingers to stretch my eye lids back. Rolling my eyeball up and down, then side to side. Definitely white. I poke my tongue out then wonder why I am poking my tongue out. What do zombie tongues look like? I have no idea so it was a pretty useless action.

  ‘Immune.’ My voice is rough from being asleep for so long. I check my eyes again, just to be sure. Still white.

  Lani passed me that cigarette last night in the Saxon too, I should have got infected from that surely?

  Without realising it, the nicotine receptors in my brain have got all excited at the memory of cigarettes. They direct my hands to st
art groping around for some cigarettes but I never carry them, I always pinch them from the lads.

  Where are the lads? And everyone else? Bloody hell I could murder a coffee. Strolling into the kitchen I try and wrestle with the understanding of being immune, but it’s just too great to think about right now. I prioritise the important stuff like having a piss and getting some coffee.

  Nice toilet down here, very nicely decorated. I stare round at the little ornaments on the shelves while I urinate into the bowl. They’ve got one of those old Spanish ladies with the big skirt to hide the toilet roll under.

  Bladder emptied and back into the kitchen, examining the stove and grinning when I find it’s gas and not electric.

  ‘Come on, come on…be good to me,’ I whisper to myself, still trying to avoid any thought process of dealing with what happened last night and what it means.

  ‘Yes!,’ the low hiss of gas escapes from the nozzle so I press the ignition button hoping it’s battery run and not mains.

  ‘You beauty,’ blue flames pop up in the circle and within a few seconds I’ve got a big pan of water on the hob and searching the cupboards for coffee. I know I’m ignoring the big issues but I need coffee. Today, this morning, right now…I am going to have a cup of coffee before I do anything.

  The world can sod off and all the big decisions can just wait until I have had that coffee. Nice, they’ve got Milicano coffee. I like Milicano, shame there’s no milk but you can’t have everything I suppose. They’ve got sugar though.

  Popping the lid open I inhale deeply at the rich aroma, savouring a smell that doesn't involve rotten corpses, or rotten bodies, or rotten corpse bodies trying to shove rotten body parts into my gob.

  The water boils, as water does when heat is applied. Nice and simple. A chemical reaction that is the cornerstone of a civilised world. I shall make this coffee and then work out where everyone else is, then get some food and maybe later, much, much later, after I have found some smokes, I will try and consider the possibility that I am immune.

  Immune. Wow. Lani is immune but then she turned and then went back to normal whereas I have just stayed the same. Does that mean anything? Did I pass something to her when we kissed that night? Or did she pass something to me? Shit, I’m not snogging Dave and the lads if that’s what has to be done. Sod that.