The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  Now the dog seemed quite happy for us to get swarmed and surprisingly didn’t show any real reaction, but one on her? Not happening. She erupts into a frenzied fury of snarling, barking, gnashing teeth. Hair on end, tail curled up and suddenly the area is devoid of monkeys. Eighty or so brown bodies star bursting away and being chased by Meredith.

  ‘Thank god,’ Cookey gasps.

  ‘Little sods,’ Blowers groans, ‘they were going for everything, one almost got my pistol out.’

  ‘MEREDITH….COME BACK,’ Dave bellows as she goes haring off chasing them. She slows down and starts trotting back, but not without the very occasional glance to see if they’re trying it again.

  ‘Good girl!’ I say as she re-joins us, all of giving her some fuss and rubs. The jabbering sound dies off as they get further away. All of a sudden, the noise is getting louder again.

  Spinning round, we see the carpet of brown bodies coming back at us, and this time a lot faster.

  ‘The hole,’ Clarence mutters, ‘the hole in the fence…’

  ‘Shit!’ I exclaim as I see larger black and brown figures running behind the rhesus monkeys, ‘time to go.’

  ‘Hold on tight,’ Clarence reaches up to push Milly’s hands firmer onto his head as we set off, jogging at a good pace as we follow the meandering road.

  Screams, roars and horrific snarls sound out in the distance behind us. Three species of animals kept well apart are now thrown into the pot. At least now with three enclosures breached there are plenty of trees and land for the primates to use in their escape of the lions.

  ‘Giddy up horsey,’ Milly screams with pleasure at the bouncy ride on Clarence’s wide shoulders.

  ‘There,’ Dave points ahead to a bit set of gates set into the chain link fence, ‘give me your axe.’ I offer mine up which he takes and sprints ahead, outstripping us with graceful ease. Reaching the obstacle he swings and levers away, snapping something then dragging the gates open way before we get to them.

  Bursting through we keep the speed up as Dave slams the gates closed behind us, shouting that the lock is ruined before running up to join us again.

  We are certainly be a lot fitter than we were two weeks ago but my god, the heat is sapping my strength quicker than anything I have ever known before. Each day just gets hotter, and it seems so much worse out here in the wide, open land, with heat shimmers hovering over the surface of the road.

  Gradually we slow down to a fast walk, the conversation drying up as we focus on breathing. Dehydration becoming a very real issue as the sweat pours down our faces to drench our clothes.

  Thankfully we start to see buildings in the distance, large roofed structures that indicate we’re heading towards the centre of the park.

  Heads down but eyes up, we push on, all too aware that the last gate we came through is closed but not locked and could easily swing open.

  ‘Over there,’ Blowers gasps, and points to a herd of something grazing further down the rolling pastures. Those clever monkeys will soon realise they can open that gate, then the lions have four enclosures to roam and now a herd of something, maybe bison or some other big animals, to hunt.

  ‘Zebras,’ Blowers points out another herd of the distinctive black and white creatures moving amongst a strand of trees. Closer towards the main centre, we see other herds of animals all in the same vast area. These are all grazing animals, and with so much space they must have all been put together. Those lions will be feasting at some point.

  The safari park is so bloody big it seems to take ages to finally reach the buildings, and the last gate is quickly pulled shut as the others start sagging down to rest.

  ‘Not yet,’ I gasp at them, ‘café up there.’ That gets them back on their feet quick enough.

  A place like this will have somewhere to eat and drink so we head on, going past the small creature buildings and into the main centre. The buildings are all locked and secure, but finding the advertisement adorned café is easy enough. Then, with Clarence’s feet and our axes, getting the doors open takes just seconds.

  Inside the entrance we finally rest, bent over or dropping down to get our breathing under control.

  ‘Wait here,’ Lani walks off quickly followed by Dave. Disappearing out of sight we wait for them to come back, knowing exactly what they’ve gone for.

  ‘They’re not chilled,’ Lani calls out, coming back with an armful of bottles of water. Dave is right behind her with more. Caps get unscrewed and water glugged down, poured over faces and heads with pleasurable sighs and groans.

  Milly drinks quickly, holding the bottle to her mouth with both hands, while staring round at the inside of the building.

  It’s a wooden structure made from stained, dark timber to give it an old time sort of theme with wooden tables and chairs dotted everywhere. Every wall has posters and pictures of the animals held within the park as well as posters advertising the feeding times and extra gold packages you can pay for. They also have expert talks given by guest television presenters.

  Cleverly, they’ve put the gift shop within the main café building and stocked the outer edge, the one closest to the café, with all the brightest and most colourful objects to attract the attention of children. It certainly works judging by the stares of Milly.

  ‘Gift shop,’ Cookey mentions. Obviously works on him too.

  ‘They got toilets?’ Clarence asks.

  ‘Do you need a poo?’ Milly asks seriously with an actual air of genuine concern.

  ‘No, you need a wash if I’m going to be carrying you,’ he replies kindly.

  ‘I’ll do it, you think they got clothes in there?’ She nods at the gift shop.

  ‘Probably,’ I reply, ‘at least tee-shirts and things. Get her a sunhat too if they’ve got them, at least a baseball cap…’

  ‘Yes okay Mr Howie,’ she groans, ‘anything else?’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I get to my feet and follow Lani and Milly towards the shop.

  ‘Cookey, see if you can find some food.’

  ‘Why me?’ He asks with a groan.

  ‘You were the last one to swear,’ I turn round to grin at him.

  ‘Okay,’ the amiable lad smiles and gets up.

  Fortunately, the gift shop is not sectioned off from the café and we just stroll through into the aisles packed with every type of object known to mankind and all of them emblazoned, stencilled or stitched with the park logo on them. Advertising works I guess, and no doubt they wouldn’t stock it if it didn’t all sell.

  ‘There,’ I point to a clothing section at the far end.

  ‘Can I get a toy please Lani?’ Milly asks.

  ‘You can have whatever you want,’ Lani smiles down, ‘but after we get you washed and changed, okay?’

  Milly clearly contemplates this for a second, ‘anything?’ She asks in the negotiating phase of the discussions.

  ‘Anything,’ Lani repeats.

  ‘Okay,’ Milly accepts the terms and conditions as we reach the clothing stands. Any concern of not having clothes is quickly negated. They’ve got every possible type of clothing here.

  ‘Shorts or trousers?’ I ask Lani holding a pair of each up. They’re khaki safari colour with the logo stitched in, but are good quality material.

  ‘Trousers for now,’ Lani replies, ‘keep her legs covered in this sun but take the shorts anyway. Actually, grab a bag and we can get a few bits…actually,’ she adds again, ‘get a few bags so we can fill up.’

  ‘That,’ I announce with a pointed look, ‘is a very good idea, see…it’s not just your body that I fancy.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Lani laughs, ‘my mind too yeah?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I reply in what I hope is a serious tone.

  ‘Just not summer dresses though,’ she arches on eyebrow before turning away.

  They’ve got rucksacks a plenty here and, as with the clothes, they are good quality with padded straps with waist and chest fasteners. The park logo on everything is a bit annoying b
ut what can you do?

  ‘There’s loads of grub in the kitchens,’ Cookey announces, walking into the gift shop with the others strolling behind him.

  ‘Get some stuff if you need it,’ I call out, ‘there are bags here we can use, get clean tops or whatever you need.’

  ‘Leave space for water,’ Dave instructs.

  ‘Are you getting changed too Lani?’ Milly asks from behind an aisle.

  ‘I am,’ Lani replies, ‘help me find something.’

  ‘Okay,’ Milly replies, ‘what about this?’

  ‘Hmmm, I think it’s a bit hot for a tiger costume.’

  ‘Go on Lani, put it on!’ Cookey calls out.

  ‘Ah perfect,’ Blowers shouts, ‘big rack of sunglasses here.’

  ‘Where?’ Cookey springs up looking round.

  ‘Don’t get mirrored glasses,’ Dave orders, ‘they can reflect sunlight.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Cookey replies, running about looking for Blowers.

  ‘Here,’ I walk back into the middle area carrying a load of black tee-shirts, ‘they’ve got the logo on them but…’

  ‘Doesn't matter,’ Clarence strides over, ‘clean clothes…they got my size?’

  ‘Probably not,’ I reply, ‘have a look.’

  ‘We’re ready,’ Lani appears with Milly who is loaded down with armfuls of clothes. ‘Here,’ she grins and throws something at me. Ducking out the way I pick the object up and laugh.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lani grins.

  ‘What is it?’ Cookey calls out.

  ‘A safari park toothbrush,’ I reply, ‘in zebra colours.’

  Milly and Lani head off to the toilets, Milly’s voice chattering the entire way as the rest of us mooch through the heap of clothes I dumped to find the right sizes.

  With toothbrush in hand I head off to the toilets with Dave, agreeing with the rest that we’ll go first and then start on the food, which gives Cookey a reprieve.

  ‘Clean toilets Dave!’ I remark as we walk into the sparkling clean gents, ‘they even smell nice.’

  ‘They do Mr Howie,’ he heads straight over to the sinks and starts stripping off while running the water. I go a few sinks up and start the same, peeling off the sodden, filthy top and catching a whiff of my armpits.

  ‘I wonder if Nick’s at the fort yet?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Dave replies.

  ‘You worried?’

  ‘About Nick?’

  ‘Yes, Dave.’

  ‘Not really, he’s very capable and very intelligent. Good fighter too.’

  ‘I guess but I still don’t like it. That Milly is pretty fearless,’ I say conversationally which isn’t the best thing to do with Dave, seeing as he struggles with mundane chitchat. Glancing down the row of sinks, I watch him repeatedly press the plastic lever to fill his hands with liquid soap before smashing the lot into his face and lathering it up in a vigorous, almost epileptic manner. He then washes his hair, his neck and down to his shoulders and armpits until the soap runs out. He reloads with soap and carries on, scrubbing himself so methodically that he’s done within a couple of minutes, rinsing the soap off to stand back and start using paper towels to pat dry his body.

  ‘She is,’ he finally adds. Having recorded the last comment made by me, but being unable to answer for fear of getting a mouthful of soap, he simply continued what he was doing until he could talk. The man is mesmerising to watch. Even something normally boring like washing is done so clinically it’s fascinating.

  ‘You think she’s got something wrong with her?’ I turn back to my own messier and less clinical washing, which involves getting lots of water everywhere, blinding myself with soap and then trying to talk at the same time.

  ‘Wrong?’ He asks while I rinse the soap from my burning eye.

  ‘Yeah like autism or something, you know, she hasn’t mentioned her family or her house or anything. Those questions she asks too, and the way she remembers our names so quickly.’

  ‘There is a wide spectrum with autism Mr Howie,’ he says, ‘she doesn't appears to lack social skills but…’ He pauses for a second which is so unusual it makes me stop washing to stare at him, ‘I think perhaps her awareness of danger or threat is different to a normal person.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ I nod in agreement before returning turning back to the mirror. As I unwrap the new toothbrush, I contemplate using the liquid soap as a toothpaste. It would taste disgusting but it would certainly clean my mouth. Would it be harmful? I suppose if I didn’t actually swallow it…would they put dangerous liquid soap in public restrooms?

  ‘You okay Mr Howie,’ he asks directly, staring at me hovering my brush under the soap dispenser.

  ‘Uh?’ Catching me unawares I shake my head and start brushing without the soap but doing it without paste feels so wrong. In the end I compromise and add the tiniest dollop of soap before quickly shoving the bristles in my mouth and going for it before I change my mind.

  It tastes fucking awful, really nasty but I keep going. Attacking the bottom row, then the top, all whilst trying to hold my tongue away from my teeth and reminding myself not to swallow. It’s very complicated and rather too much for my stupid head to process, and results in a messy situation with soapy saliva dripping from my mouth whilst I try not to gag.

  As I finish I suddenly realise I am groaning from distaste. I get my mouth under the tap to rinse and realise Dave is staring at me with a very strange expression.

  ‘What?’ I ask with a shrug.

  ‘Nothing,’ he shrugs back. Bloody hell, it must be bad when even Dave looks at you like you’re doing something weird. ‘Your eye is all red,’ he comments.

  ‘Got soap in it.’

  The psychological effect of washing and putting a clean tee-shirt on is amazing. All of us feel a little pepped up from scrubbing the stale sweat away. Out of the harsh sun, and drinking cans of sugary drink, we start on the tinned food from the kitchens, carrying them all out onto a big table in the café.

  ‘Fort or Saxon first?’ Clarence asks, happily shovelling a spoonful of cold beans into his mouth.

  ‘Fort. We need Nick or a mechanic,’ I reply, ‘none of us can fix it, and I hate being separated from him too.’

  ‘Mmm, definitely,’ Blowers nods in agreement with a mouthful of something, ‘we should get Nick first.’

  ‘Are you ready gentlemen?’ Turning round, we see Lani stood at the entrance to the toilets. Judging by the time she has taken, there must have been one hell of a cleaning session going on in there.

  She leads Milly out by the hand. The little girl grinning from ear to ear, freshly scrubbed with wet hair tied back she looks completely different.

  ‘Look at you!’ Cookey calls out.

  ‘Wow!’ I stand up and clap, ‘you look so much better.’

  ‘She does,’ Clarence adds, ‘all clean and fresh.’

  ‘Do the clothes fit alright?’ Blowers asks.

  ‘Perfect,’ Lani replies. Milly bursts away from her, prompting us all to jump up in panic at the thought of her running off again. Giggling she heads straight to Clarence, jumping up at the last second with a high-pitched laugh.

  ‘Come here you,’ Clarence pulls her up to sit on his lap, ‘now you smell much better.’

  ‘I got new clothes,’ Milly grins round at us all, ‘and Lani has new clothes and I have brown trousers and Lani has brown trousers and I have a black top and Lani has a black top…’

  ‘Breathe Milly,’ Cookey laughs as the girl launches into a long excited explanation.

  ‘We’ve all got black tops on,’ she shouts jumping up and down in absolute glee. ‘Clarence has a black one and Mr Howie has a black one and Dave has a black one…’ she goes round naming everyone as I watch her closely. I still can’t help but notice the way she feels the need to point everything out individually.

  ‘You alright?’ I ask Lani when Milly finishes off.

  ‘Fine, brush your teeth did you?’

  ‘I did
.’

  ‘Mr Howie used soap on the toothbrush,’ Dave imparts helpfully, to a load of faces screwing up in disgust.

  ‘Wasn’t that bad,’ I shrug, ‘Milly, are you hungry?’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Clarence says, pulling tins over so Milly can start eating.

  ‘Where’s Meredith?’ Lani asks.

  ‘Under the table scoffing,’ Blowers answers tucking back into his food.

  ‘Have you given her beans again?’ She asks, ‘you know what beans do to her.’

  ‘Not much choice really, she’s got tuna mixed in with it,’ Blowers replies.

  ‘Have you been here before Milly?’ I ask the little girl munching away on a bowl of tuna, beans and sweet corn all mixed together. She shakes her head seriously while busily loading the spoon up.

  ‘Never?’ I ask in surprise, being so close to the safari park I would have thought all the local kids would have visited.

  ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ I ask gently, remembering the other bedroom in her house with the posters of teen bands. Milly shakes her head again as she focusses on chewing.

  ‘Oh,’ I nod, keeping the tone light I start opening another tin, ‘there was another bedroom at your house with posters, who’s bedroom was that?’

  ‘Carly,’ she replies. I watch her closely. She doesn't appear upset or worried. In fact she seems the same, quite content to eat away.

  ‘Who is Carly? Is she a relative?’

  She shakes her head again and looks round, grinning at Cookey who laughs at the single bean that drops from her mouth.

  Giving Lani a confused look I shrug. The girl is a mystery. Maybe we had the wrong house and her name isn’t even Milly. ‘Is Milly your name?’ I ask quickly.

  ‘Yes Mr Howie,’ she laughs as though it’s the stupidest question ever.

  ‘So who is Carly?’

  ‘My mummy and daddy’s daughter,’ she says as if the answer is obvious.