The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  Paula is with us, Lani by my side. The lads grip onto each other, no doubt making gay jokes about the closeness of their bodies. Even Meredith is lying down in the lea side of Clarence with a few arms wrapped round her chest.

  Scrabbling along going hand to hand while gripping anything I can hold, I edge towards the lip of the wall and peer down. The outer gates are leaking water quicker than a tap left on full. The weight of the vehicles jammed behind it just manages to keep them closed but there are enough holes for the sea to get through and quickly the alley starts to fill.

  The first bodies left on the ground are lifted by the low rise, dragged along they start knocking into the undead that got down into the alley. More water surges in and the walls act as the sides of a bath trapping the water as it fills, rising higher and higher with every second.

  With Dave at my side, both of us peer down and still, the fucking things try to climb up, not to escape the water, but to get at us.

  Still, they come only to get plucked away the second they stand up, until the ripple of the idea spreads amongst their hive mind and they change tactic. Staying low as they crest the wall and the fight is back on. A low fight, a battle done with bodies no higher than a crouch.

  Dave goes at them, using one hand to stab and slash out and the other to take hold of whatever he can grip. The axes become unwieldy down on our bellies so we draw knives and go for it.

  All of us adopt Dave’s method of fighting one handed, whilst we struggle to hold on to each other. Barred teeth still come at us in crab like surges. The faces of the undead appear more violent and deranged than ever before. The fighting becomes gritty and brutal. Clarence is the only one strong enough to use his axe and he swings it in big sweeps left and right, tearing chunks of flesh from heads.

  Meredith hunts like a lioness. Staying low she crabs towards the target until close enough to run in, grip, savage and drop down again.

  A glimpse to the rear shows me the back gate has been smashed open, water pouring through the gap like a giant fire hose.

  Feeling safer now, we fight with renewed confidence. Their numbers are finite again and limited. With the water rising in the alley between the walls, and the kills we give out we know we can get through this.

  Perhaps that’s it, perhaps that glimmer of knowledge brings a very slight sense of complacency but disaster befalls us as Cookey screams in agony.

  Fighting outwards and being on the ground reduces our ability to scan all sides and the undead take advantage to swarm in.

  With the noise of the storm and the howling wind, it takes us a few seconds to realise Cookey has let go of whoever he was clinging onto. Combined yells, as whipped away by the wind as they are, still reach me as I turn to see Cookey twisting round to beat at the female undead biting into his thigh.

  Our group implodes as we dive towards him. Hampered by the strong wind and being unable to stand we have to roll, crouch and dive forward.

  Blowers is the closest and reacts with incredible violence, literally diving onto the back of the female undead to pull her off with his bare hands. Getting his arms round her throat he squeezes with all his might and snaps the head left and right, copying the motion he has seen done so many times by Dave and Clarence.

  With the neck broken he twists first to check we’re getting to Cookey then spins to face the rest of the horde off.

  The banter gets harsh sometimes, and Cookey is relentless of his jibes towards Blowers, but never in my life have I seen two closer mates and right now Blowers shows that closeness by plunging in to attack multiple undead on his own. His boxing training shows and even being on his stomach he smacks and pummels their faces with brutally hard blows, using his feet to kick and force them away.

  Dave propels himself over Cookey to dive into the midst, joining Blowers to protect the lad and fight them back. We all converge, forming a protective barrier round a very shaken Cookey, lying on his back with his hands pressed round the bite wound on his thigh.

  Maddox gets his crews in tight round us and starts beating out, gradually forming a larger circle around us as our team fall back to gather round the injured lad.

  Like a father, I love my team equally for they each bring something unique that makes us complete. Clarence has his strength and years of experience. Dave is Dave, nothing more needs to be said. Lani anchors us, brings reason and common sense with a ferocity of love for me, for all of us. Nick is gifted in ways he will never know, the unassuming lad is so clever, so quick and so very capable and if he only knew the loss we feel at his absence. His ability with machines, devices, mechanical and electrical things has saved us time and again.

  Blowers, a strong young man so ready to laugh, joke and put people at ease but so ready to step up and take the role of corporal. Always knowing what needs to be done and always one step ahead of me. Hard too, with a street toughness that makes him a highly formidable opponent.

  Humour defines humanity. Without humour, we are but another species. Cookey has that rare gift of bringing humour. He shows his heart every day without fear of rejection or judgement. He cries openly and without shame but he laughs more than he cries, he laughs and he makes us laugh.

  In the direst, darkest of times there has always been Cookey to make a quip, crack a joke, make an observation or comment that so many times has had us clutching our sides.

  Together we are strength. Together we have unity and can survive and achieve. All of those things are a combination of what we each bring and Cookey, he is our spirit. He is the spirit of humanity.

  His face drains of blood, trembling with tears already pricking in his eyes to roll down his cheeks to join the streams of rainwater. He stares at me with wide eyes, showing the innocence of his kind heart.

  Not my Cookey, the kindest warmest one of us all who just minutes ago had us all laughing as he joked about while facing impossible odds. Cookey who never once doubted what we were doing, never flinched, never moaned, never complained but did everything we asked of him and did it with a smile.

  My heart sinks to plummet down through my stomach. Blowers pushes to gain Cookey’s side. His face a mask of emotions that even he, the hard faced lad that he is, finds impossible to cover up. Tears stream and his bottom lip quivers, trembling with fear. With shaking hands he gently lifts Cookey’s head to stare down with nothing but love and horror.

  This hits us hard, harder than anything we’ve been through so far. None of us care about the battle now, the storm becomes a thing in the distance. Here, on this sodden ground, we cradle and stare down at the shocked face of one of our own.

  ‘Mr Howie,’ Cookey stares up at me. We lean in close as our bodies protect him from the wind, ‘don’t let Blowers bum me when I’m gone,’ he tries to joke, but it chokes off in a sob. His hand reaches out, bloodied and slick from the gripping the wound but I take it within my own as Lani grips his other one.

  A hot wetness to the side of me, a forceful push then Meredith is amongst us staring down with her big brown eyes.

  Tears from all of us, Clarence red eyed and swallowing, Lani streaming. Blowers sobbing and the salt of our emotions mixes with the sweetness of the rain.

  ‘Show me,’ I croak and bend down as many hands work to gently turn him onto his side. The wound is clear with a nasty bite to the fleshy, meaty rear of his thigh. Not deep and under normal circumstances a quick bandage would see it covered and protected. But now, with the infected blood coursing through his system, he has but minutes at the most.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he gasps. Rolled onto his back again and he stares first at me, then at Lani and finally up at Blowers.

  ‘Don’t be,’ I gasp as Lani sweeps his hair from his forehead.

  ‘Mate,’ he looks up at Blowers, ‘I’m so sorry mate.’

  ‘Not you,’ Blowers sobs, ‘please not you.’

  ‘It’s alright mate. It’s done now. It’s over,’ Cookey smiles, ‘don’t be fucking soft.’

  ‘Fuck you Cookey,’ Blowers chokes.<
br />
  Cookey chuckles softly, a soft sound that rocks his body, ‘you love me really Blowers.’

  Shit, that does it for me. No way am I letting this fucking infection take him, no matter what it takes.

  ‘Cut me Dave.’ The small man reacts instantly, his hand flicking out to score a perfect shallow cut across my palm. ‘Deeper, make it bleed more,’ I demand and he flicks again, opening the wound with surgical precision.

  ‘Hold tight mate,’ I squeeze his hand while I push my injured palm under his leg and feel for the wound. Finding it, I grip hard and knead at his thigh, forcing my blood into his cut. Clarence gets his hand over the top of mine and clamps hard, driving my palm into his leg.

  Gritting his teeth, Cookey lies back with his eyes clamped shut. Hands hold him gently as I knead and push in a desperate effort to do something.

  Me, do it,’ Lani shouts at Dave holding her hand open. Again, within a second she has a perfect cut across her palm. ‘Sorry Cookey,’ she smiles while lifting his hand towards Dave.

  ‘Do it,’ Cookey clenches his eyes closed as Dave opens his skin. Lani presses her hand to his, tears and blood mingling with the rain as we press our bleeding wounds to his. Desperate to do anything to save his life and without doubt, if I could offer myself right now for Cookey to have his life I would do it. That prayer races through my mind, willing whatever it is Lani and I have to work on Cookey.

  ‘The dog,’ Blowers shouts, ‘she’s immune too.’

  ‘Fuck off Blowers,’ Cookey says through gritted teeth, ‘we had that conversation, yeah you can’t just take the dog’s blood and put it in yours,’ he mimics Blowers voice which has us all smiling stupidly as Dave leans in and whips the point of his blade over the back of Cookey’s free hand.

  ‘Stop stabbing me!’

  Blowers grabs Meredith’s head and guides her in to the back of Cookey’s hand. While I massage the back of his leg and Lani pushes her cut hand into his so Meredith starts licking at the third wound. Her long tongue takes firm, controlled licks of the open cut. The fact that she might have infected blood in her mouth from all the bites doesn’t register at that moment.

  ‘How long?’ I glance up at Dave knowing he will be timing it.

  ‘Two minutes,’ he says without a blink.

  ‘COME ON,’ I bellow at the top of my lungs, screaming into the sky for the gods to save him. Whatever we have, whatever thing that the three of us possess must be worth something, it must be.

  ‘Two and a half,’ Dave announces.

  ‘Yes, come on Cookey,’ Clarence grins.

  ‘I’m not doing anything?’ Cookey glances up with a confused look.

  ‘Just keep doing it then,’ Blowers pleads, ‘how long now?’

  ‘Three minutes,’ Dave replies.

  ‘No way,’ Cookey stares at me, ‘no fucking way…’

  ‘Yes mate,’ I grin, ‘any pain?’

  ‘No…’ he shakes his head, ‘just my leg…and the cut where Dave got me…’

  ‘Stomach?’ Lani asks.

  ‘Nothing,’ Cookey says in a weak voice as though not daring to believe it.

  ‘Three and a half,’ Dave says.

  ‘Yes! Come on!’ I scream with a big grin and feel Clarence pushing his hand harder over the top of mine as though to make it work better.

  ‘You okay?’ Blowers asks with a hopeful gaze at his best mate.

  ‘Fine,’ Cookey nods with fresh tears forming in his eyes.

  ‘Really Cookey?’ Blowers voice breaks with a sob, ‘don’t fuck about now mate, you really okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, Blowers mate…I feel fine.’

  ‘Mr Howie?’ Blowers looks at me like I have all the answers, like I will know right at this very point whether Cookey will live or not.

  ‘Four minutes,’ Dave announces.

  ‘Mate,’ I push my free hand round the back of Cookey’s neck, ‘four minutes Cookey, you hear that? Four minutes.’

  ‘No way,’ he sobs staring at me while his hand hooks over my wrist.

  ‘Yes mate,’ I feel a fresh outpouring of tears from my eyes.

  ‘Four and a half,’ Dave adds.

  ‘Cookey,’ I grin through the sobs, ‘your immune…’

  Just by saying it, just by muttering those words it makes it a reality. None of us know anything, he could be infected or it could be another dirty trick from the infection but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that right now, Cookey has that weight lifted off him and is given his life back.

  Blowers sags down, his head held low as he heaves to get himself under control. Clarence and I slowly pull out bloodied hands away as Lani leans in to kiss Cookey on the forehead.

  For once, Cookey doesn't crack jokes but closes his eyes as his own bottom lip trembles. Like it’s too good to be true, we hold there for another minute, all of us bent low to hug the lad and none of us speaking.

  Such as my mind is, I can’t help but realise that Dave will still have his knife drawn and ready but even he, the most emotionless man ever to walk the earth leans forward to gently stroke Cookey’s cheek. An act of such gentle care that it takes my breath away. Cookey has his eyes closed and will never know that gesture came from Dave, but that is as close to Dave showing love as you could ever hope to see.

  ‘Six minutes and you’re fine,’ Dave breaks the silence, ‘get up and get back to work.’

  Laughing with delight, Cookey snaps his eyes open and stares up. The sadness gone, the fear evaporating as he locks eyes on Blowers.

  ‘Ha! Fuck you Blowers…I’m immune…’

  ‘Oh god,’ Blowers shakes his head, ‘he’s gonna go on about this forever.’

  ‘Fucking right I am,’ Cookey sits up grinning, ‘you must be well jel that Mr Howie was massaging my arse.’

  ‘Such a twat,’ Blowers shouts through a grin that stretches ear to ear.

  Clarence tears a trip of material from the bottom of his tee-shirt and quickly loops it round Cookey’s leg, tying it off with enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

  Whatever this means, Cookey not becoming infected, there isn’t time to contemplate it now. The fighting is still all around us and without my team joining in the others have become beaten back.

  With renewed energy we go back to doing what we do best. With fresh hope in our hearts for now we know four of us cannot be turned.

  Sixty

  ‘What we gonna do?’ Jacob mutters as he snaps the shotgun open to push two more fresh cartridges in the tubes.

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Nick replies grimly, ‘can you get those kids out the windows?’

  ‘Nailed shut, the Doc had ‘em done so they wouldn’t run off.’

  ‘Fuck it, we’re trapped then.’

  ‘You said your people were coming,’ Jacob hisses.

  ‘Must be the storm,’ Nick says with a sense of isolation descending in his mind, ‘they might still come.’

  ‘Yeah right,’ Jacob mutters, ‘bit fucking late now.’

  ‘YOU TWO…PUT THE GUNS DOWN …’ Larson bellows from the ground floor.

  ‘WE JUST WANT TO GET THE BOYS OUT,’ Nick shouts, ‘THAT’S IT…’

  ‘COME DOWN THEN AND WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT,’ Larson shouts.

  ‘I KNOW YOU LARSON,’ Jacob roars, ‘YOU’LL KILL US.’

  ‘I WON’T…I PROMISE…’

  Staring at Jacob, Nick watches as the older man shakes his head. ‘He will,’ Jacob whispers.

  ‘YOU COME UP,’ Nick shouts, ‘COME UP SO WE CAN TALK.’

  ‘FUCK THAT,’ Larson bellows, ‘YOU’RE BOTH FUCKED…’

  ‘See,’ Jacob sighs.

  ‘We just got to hold on as long as we can,’ Nick whispers urgently. ‘They’ll come, I know they will.’

  ‘We don’t have much choice really, do we?’ Jacob mutters as they both make ready to fire again.

  ***

  Side door unlocked and slightly ajar, the lights inside are off and Roy can see perfectly with his night vision equipment.

  Li
lly is right behind him holding the pistol in the two handed grip Nick showed her, gun lowered at the floor treading carefully.

  Roy goes slow, each step measured and checked before proceeding. Being inside now, the noise of the storm is muffled enough to gain sounds of the house. He hears shouts from inside, an exchange of words between two or three people, the tone demanding.

  Edging closer to the internal door, he pauses and listens before taking hold of the handle to start pressing down. The bow held in his left hand with the arrow already knocked into the string.

  Easing the door open, it creaks and groans but the storm masks the sound. Dropping down to one knee he stares into a long corridor, a door open at the other end leading into an illuminated area, the main hallway probably.

  Two men kneel at the end of the corridor by the door. Both of them armed and watching out into the main hallway area.

  ‘COME ON LADS,’ a voice sails down clearer now, ‘THERE’S NO WAY OUT OF HERE, YOU’RE BOTH FUCKED…COME DOWN NOW OR I SWEAR WE’LL KILL THOSE FUCKING KIDS.’

  ‘GET FUCKED,’ another voice replies instantly.

  ‘That’s Nick,’ Lilly breathes softly in his ear, her voice trembling with excitement at hearing him alive. The boys must be alive too if the other man is threatening to hurt them.

  ‘COME UP AND GET THEM YOU CUNT,’ Nick roars, ‘COME ON FUCKTARD…’

  The boys are upstairs with Nick, Roy nods gently processing the information. How many men? He can take these two easily but how many are left after that?

  Drawing an arrow from the quiver, he props it against his thigh ready to re-load, and he draws the string back pulling the tension into the mechanism.

  Waiting, he pauses for the right moment. Either that man shouting or thunder breaking, something to mask the noise.