“What’s in your pocket, Steve?” I asked.
He didn’t bother replying. He dipped his hand back in and slid it out, holding a very shiny, very sleek hand gun.
“Stop the tractor, Daisy.” He straightened the gun out and pointed it right at her.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean stop the tractor. I’m taking it.”
“Fuck off, you knob,” Daisy said in a very unladylike, and yet restrained way.
Now I’m no hero, and in all truth, I barely knew Daisy. I mean in a biblical sense we’d … well, you know the night before, but I’d hardly had time to develop deep and meaningful feelings for her, but the prospect of somebody pointing a gun at her must have made me flip. If I’d actually given any due consideration to what I did next, I wouldn’t have done it, but working purely on instinct, I pushed out my arm onto his, so the gun was pointing away from Daisy now. Unfortunately, that action made the gun go off in his hand. When I looked later I worked out that the bullet had hit the roof of the tractor, then smashed its way out through the driver’s window.
The other thing it did was damn near deafen me—again. What was it with people letting off their firearms in enclosed spaces? First Brian in the tunnel, then Steve in the cab. The big difference of course was that this was a lot more enclosed.
I couldn’t worry about it too much though because Steve, the fucking, maniac, lorry-driving, tractor-stealing shyster was doing his best impression of rolling around in a very confined space with one hand over his ear but the gun still in the other. I made a grab for it while he was disorientated and managed to yank it out of his hand without it going off again, then, and I don’t know why, I leaned over him, pulled the lever to open the door, and started to push him out. I could hear a dull noise behind me which I took to be the engine, but I carried on anyway, my blood was up, and the red mist had descended.
I tipped him out of the door head first then kicked and shoved him ever further out. He grabbed the side of the door frame, screaming at me not to, so I kicked at his fingers until he let go anyway, then grabbed his legs until he tumbled out of the door. By the time I leaned out to pull the door shut and stop the rushing breeze that was blowing through the cab, he had disappeared I know not where. Going out of the door face first can’t have done him any favours, I thought.
I turned to look at Daisy. She was gripping the wheel so tightly that her fingers were turning white. I glanced in the wing mirror, and I saw a figure lying on the road which I took to be Steve Simms, the lying, lorry-driving bastard who tried to kill me and mine.
I wasn’t about to let anyone, living or dead do that to me.
“No more Mr Nice Guy,” I said. I couldn’t hear myself say it, only in my head.
After a few seconds while Daisy looked petrified, I leaned over to tap her arm. She jumped which I thought was odd. I mouthed at her to ask if she was OK. She nodded quickly then reverted her gaze out of the windscreen.
As we trundled along, I slowly began to hear things again. How much more of that kind of punishment my auditory system could take, I had no idea, but it seemed like it was slowly returning to normal, whatever normal was in those days.
I could feel myself start to shake as the adrenaline rush began to decline. Even though I’d shut the door, the cold seemed to be gripping onto me and not letting go, spreading its icy tentacles through my body, then, as realisation about what I’d done began to creep into my head, I heard Daisy yelling something. She pointed ahead to a sign on the side of the road. The sort of illicit business sign many councils would threaten to fine you for when one of their army of busybody spies reported it.
Sorry, bit of a rant there, fuelled by experience.
Slowing down for the entrance to the site we were immediately confronted by two things.
The very shop we had come to try and loot, and two other people who had already beaten us to it, and who were currently waving double-barrelled shotguns around in an extremely alarming manner that suggested they had never handled one before.
“We need to get out, Daisy.”
“I can’t, Frank.” I heard that, no problem.
“What? Why? Were you hurt when he fired the gun.”
She shook her head rapidly. “No, I’m fine, not hurt. I just can’t get out, but I need you to.”
She was staring out of the windscreen but didn’t seem to be seeing the man and woman in front of us.
“Is it those two?” I asked, flicking my head at the shotgun twins.
“No, Frank. It’s you. You pushed that man out of the tractor. You killed him.”
“But, Daisy, he was going to steal the tractor. He was pointing this at us?” I held the gun up and the two people outside immediately started yelling something in a panic that I couldn’t hear. If one of them decided to let rip, we were going to be sitting in a very bloody, very smashed up tractor, but I had a more important problem right then.
“But he was alive, Frank. You killed one of the living. If he wanted the tractor, we could have found another one.”
“He was pointing a bloody gun at us, Daisy. You don’t know what he might have done. I was just trying to protect us. Keep us safe.”
Daisy turned to me and I could see the tears in her eyes then, running over her cheeks.
“I know, but you killed him. I can’t stay, Frank. Not with a killer.”
“But, Daisy, I did it for you.”
“I know, Frank, and that makes it worse. I can’t be with someone who can kill another person so easily, I’m sorry. I need you to get out now and not make a fuss. Please.”
I got out. I mean I could have pointed the gun at her and made her take me wherever, but what would that prove? It wouldn’t have improved the situation any at all. In fact, it would have made me as bad as Steve. Chances are the first time I fell asleep she would skip out anyway.
I slammed the door to, not sure what the hell was going on but now totally over the shock I’d been suffering with.
“Put down the gun,” the man behind me yelled.
I watched, still amazed at the turn of events, as Daisy turned the tractor around, exited the yard, and drove away. I watched until the yellow bodywork disappeared behind a stand of trees and the noise of the engine had petered out to nothing.
“Put the gun down,” the man yelled again.
I turned to look at the origin of the noise from behind me. My ears were still ringing a bit, then I remembered the nervous people with shotguns. Not a good combination in my opinion.
“Please,” I said, squatting down to put my gun on the floor, then standing straight with my hands up, “Don’t wave those guns around like that. You’re either going to hurt yourselves accidentally or you’ll end up hurting someone else.”
“That’s the plan, mate. If we see any more of those scavenging bastards coming around here we’ll blow their fucking heads clean off.” I got the impression he was a tad edgy.
“Look, you’re just as likely to blow your own foot off. Can you,” I was dodging about from one foot to the other, trying to get out of the firing line, “let me show you how to use it properly and safely? Please.”
The man looked at me suspiciously. “What if you’re planning on shooting me … us?”
“I’m not, honestly. I’ll leave my gun here,” I pointed at it on the ground, “and your lady friend can keep hers while I show you, then you keep yours while I show her, so if I try anything stupid, which I won’t, one of you has always got a gun on me, but please can you point them away. What you’re doing can be highly dangerous.”
“She’s my sister. Lucy, do as he said. Just point the gun away.”
“I don’t trust him, David. Those other people—”
“You’ve seen other people?” I asked, temporarily forgetting the guns, but Lucy swung hers around as she faced me as if to remind me. I put my hands up even higher. “Please. If that thing goes off, it’ll blow my head off my shoulders. Please, just point it away over there somewhere.”
I pointed off away from me and into the yard.
Lucy started to swing the shotgun around then with an almighty bang, she fired it, accidentally. Thank goodness all it did was harmlessly pepper the side of a building with shot, but it also knocked her flying backwards from where she proceeded to land on her backside.
“Lucy,” David yelled and swung his gun around, swinging past me before he did the same thing. Those shotguns must have had hair triggers, but the end result was the same. He landed on his arse.
I relaxed, walked over to them, and held out my hand, first to David who seemed more concerned with rubbing his sore back from when he landed and fell backwards.
“Give me the gun, David. Please.” I wasn’t aggressive, I didn’t shout. I was something I never normally am, I was assertive, but then I had good reason to be.
He held it up, and I took it off him.
Then I turned and looked at Lucy.
“Please don’t kill us.” Her plea was plaintive and almost mewed out like a cat.
“I’m not going to kill you. Just give me the gun so you don’t kill someone you don’t mean to.”
She handed it over. I broke both the barrels, checked inside, and ejected the cartridges, then laid them down on the ground, safely, for now at least.
I extended my hand again, this time first to Lucy. She seemed very unsure, so I held my hand out steadily, but I didn’t smile at her and give her an excuse to be disgusted.
Eventually she took it, and I gently pulled her to her feet while she winced.
By that time David had managed to struggle to his feet under his own steam.
I held out my hand, once more, this time offering a handshake.
“I’m Frank. Pleased to meet you.”
David looked at my hand, then at Lucy who gave an almost imperceptible nod, then he held out his hand to shake mine. I then turned to Lucy and we shook hands too.
“You said you saw other people?” I asked. Now I was on my own, I needed to know who was around the area, and what I was up against.
“They stole our stuff. And our campervan,” Lucy said angrily.
“Were they here?” I asked.
“No, this was yesterday. We were camped in a field when they just turned up out of nowhere. They pointed guns like those at us and said we needed the camper, not us, they needed the camper.” I understood what she meant either way.
“Did you hear any names?”
“Why? Are you one of them?” David asked. I noticed him eyeing the shotguns, but they were both unloaded. Fortunately, not into me.
“No,” I said, “although, I suppose it might be maybe. It depends. I was with a larger group, but we went our separate ways.”
“The one in charge was called Jerry or something.”
“Jezza?” I said suddenly excited.
“Yes, that’s it, Jezza. Do you know him?” David asked.
“He’s actually my brother.”
“I didn’t like him,” Lucy said, “he kept eyeing me up.”
“Sounds like my brother alright.”
“So, you are one of them?” she asked
“Well, clearly not, as I wasn’t with them when they took your stuff, and it doesn’t sound like the kind of thing they would do unless something had happened to them.” I didn’t feel the need to share what had happened with the horsebox at this stage of proceedings. “Look,” I said. “I’m Frank. As you can see, my ride ended here, so if it’s all the same with you, I’d like to get inside and out of sight before nightfall. What’s it like inside, is it secure?” I asked flicking my head towards the shop.
David turned to look back at the building. “The door was unlocked when we got here but it didn’t look like the place has been ransacked or anything, so we just walked in. The keys were on the counter, so we eventually found the right one for the gun locker, and opened it up. So yes, it looks like it’s secure. Are you suggesting we stay here the night?”
I looked down at the entrance gateway where a Groaner was walking by. I held my finger over my lips and signalled everyone to stay still. Once it had shuffled past, too far away to see, hear or smell us, I whispered to them.
“Grab the guns. Keep them broken like they are. We need to get in and out of sight before any more Groaners come wandering by.”
“What are Groaners, Frank?” Lucy asked innocently.
“Those things, like that one who wandered past just now.”
“Oh, you mean the Zombies. Poor things.”
I looked at Lucy. She seemed wrapped in thoughts of hard-done-by undead creatures. Then I looked at David. He just shrugged.
“OK, we’ll talk about that later. Let’s get inside.”
As I grabbed my jacket, Steve the ex-lorry driver’s gun, and carrier bag I had a quick look inside. One bottle of water, warm. Three packets of crisps, ready salted, crushed, and a very welcome packet of cigarettes.
The makings of a perfect evening, I thought.
IX0X0X0X0X0X0XI
I felt so much better. I’d given David and Lucy a rapid, but hopefully efficient, lesson in how to handle a shotgun without killing one another or me, which they both seemed to pick up OK, I hoped.
We had decamped from outside to inside the building, the doors and windows were locked, and I’d even found a way to lower the metal shutters that fitted over the windows, so they were very secure, at least the downstairs ones were but I figured the upstairs windows wouldn’t be a problem against Groaners.
Finally, I’d wound down the shutter on the front door as far as I could, while still allowing somebody to slip underneath. I locked the glass front door behind us to ensure nobody could get in easily.
The shop had been a rare piece of good news. I was togged up in a new waterproof jacket, I’d shoved some waterproof trousers into my pack just in case. I had one of those Australian bush hats, minus the dangling corks, as well as a new sweater and a spare, again in my pack.
The gun room was awesome. All but fully stocked, there were racks of shotguns, some single action rifles, and a whole load of ammo so I’d taken a shotgun and a rifle, filled the pockets of my coat with ammunition, and put another box for each in my pack.
I’d encouraged Lucy and David to do the same.
After that we shifted everything, including some warm sleeping bags, upstairs into one of the offices so we could keep a watch on anything moving outside while we talked, and day slowly sank into the greyness of dusk and finally darkness.
I was sitting on an office chair, watching out of the window while wrapped up in my sleeping bag.
“Who was the woman, Frank?” David asked quietly.
“Daisy. Her name was Daisy, we met yesterday. Or was it the day before? I’ve already lost track of time.”
“You were arguing.” It was a very accurate summation of what took place in the cab of the tractor by Lucy.
“We were. Yes.”
The two of them were sitting in chairs, also wrapped up and about as far away from me as they could get, watching me with wary eyes in the almost complete darkness. Earlier I’d been able to take in a little more detail of them. David was taller than Lucy but a good four or five inches shorter than me and wiry. He had a scruffy mop of hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed or combed in a few days, but in the middle of an apocalypse, I supposed that was understandable. He had on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that were wholly unremarkable, and expensive-looking trainers.
Lucy was attired similarly although her trainers were altogether pinker and more sparkly than David’s and her hair was long, dark, and surprisingly sleek and shiny and was, right then, wound up in what I believe is called a messy bun.
They shared one feature: saturnine dark-brown eyes.
“What were you arguing about?” she asked.
“We had a disagreement about something I did.” I couldn’t see any point in not telling them the truth. They were already terrified of me anyway, so telling them about Steve and his shenanigans seemed the least of my wo
rries.
“To her?” David’s voice drifted over, sounding sharper, and more concerned than it had before.
“No. To someone else.” Outside was pitch-black now. We’d found a couple of wind-up lanterns, so I turned one on but kept it low to the ground, so its light didn’t show outside too much. No point advertising our presence.
“What did you do?” David asked. I was glad they hadn’t reloaded their guns at this stage.
“I killed a man. I had to. He was threatening us. We stopped to help him, took him in, then he pulled this gun on us,” I held up the handgun I’d acquired earlier.
“What happened?” Lucy whispered. Although I couldn’t see her, I pictured her, eyes wide and frightened.
“I tried to stop him and grabbed the gun. It went off. I managed to knock him out then tossed him out of the tractor.”
“So why was she upset?” Lucy asked, sounding puzzled.
“The tractor was still moving.” I said.
“Still doesn’t explain why she was upset. I’d have been grateful as hell if you’d done that for me.”
“She said she couldn’t be around a killer.” I smiled wistfully at my reflection in the window. It was hideous, so I stopped. “I must admit I thought that was rather harsh given what the man tried to do to us. He was going to steal the tractor and leave us stranded.”
“Bit like your friends did to us?” David had his input, and fair play, that’s what they had done.
“That’s right and I can only apologise to you—again— for that. It’s not what I would have expected from them. I shall have serious words with them if I ever see them again.”
“Will you kill them?” David asked.
“No. I know those people.”
“What if they threaten you?”
Shit, I thought, this was tricky ground now. I didn’t want to say I would because truth was, I didn’t know whether I would—or could—kill any of them in any circumstances.
“This was different. Spur of the moment. I acted to save Daisy, to save us from someone with a gun.”
“Will you kill us if we threaten you?” David asked quietly.
“David!” Lucy fired back sharply. “Don’t ask that. I think you did the right thing, Frank. He was trying to take what was yours and threatening your friend and you.”
The One Percent (Episode 2): The One Percent Page 5