Growing up just a short walk away, Butty and I would frequent Barry’s to spend our pocket money on treats such as sweets, chocolates and pop. In fact, every Saturday Butty would try to buy a porno magazine or ‘Grumble’ Mag as he calls them. Splosh was his particular favourite. He did this from about the age of twelve and Barry would always take it as far as he could, leading Butty to believe he was going to get his sweaty little palms on the latest publication of Splosh. Only, when it came to paying he would just laugh and chuck him a 10p mix of sweets for being a cheeky shit. Years that went on for and as far as I know, Butty never got his hands on a copy. For those of you not familiar with this top shelf publication, Splosh specialises in naked women covered in cake. Very tongue in cheek which, coincidently, is the name of my brothers other favourite ‘Grumble’ magazine. When Butty reached eighteen years of age Barry still wouldn’t sell it to him as turning him down on a weekly basis had become tradition and it always made him laugh. Even if over the years it had cost him a small fortune in sugary cola bottles, jelly sweets and flying saucers.
Barry and his little store of magical items has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. You could go in there with a shopping list of fuse wire, sewing cotton, toilet roll, milk, a book of raffle tickets, Pot Noodle, dust clothes and an ice lolly and you would get everything plus about four others items you never knew you wanted. It was his stock and friendly service that made Barry’s better than the rest and secured the shop’s longevity in this town. The last thing I was expecting to hear was that, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, he was still open.
We followed Butty onto Balfour Street; street lights illuminated the many zombie corpses littering the road. It looked like a war zone. Abandoned cars and boarded up houses filled our vision.
“I can’t take full credit for this but the four over there were mine. The rest were dead already. Walk carefully. There may be a zombie lying amongst the dead just waiting to reach out and grab you. Unless they are a threat, leave them be. There's no point using up energy for no reason so save your strength and no wandering off just to kill a zombie. We're not keeping a kill score here so don’t go putting yourself in danger for no reason. Besides, if we were keeping score I would be out in front by a country mile. If you do find yourself having to engage one and they are on the ground, use the heel of your boot and stomp down hard on their heads. It's the quickest way to kill them. I wouldn't use a weapon unless you have to. I'll take the lead so if you follow in my steps we should be alright. You may be tempted to bang on the doors of the many boarded up houses. Don't. These are dangerous times and people will protect their homes and families with their lives if need be. They may not take kindly to strangers looking for shelter in their homes. Barry's has its lights on and the sign on the door says open. The reason I think Barry is alive and this is our best option is the graffiti on the window says 'NO ZOMBIES'. That's good enough for me. Everyone ready?" he said.
Butty's resilience was inspiring. There he was having just lost his home and he was able to put it out of his mind and focus on what needed to be done. If I'm honest I was struggling, only managing to keep my head above water for Emily. She was in real pain and I needed to be strong for the both of us. Luckily, I had my brother. His actions and leadership helped me to pick myself up, to suck it up and carry on the best I could, for Emily more than anything.
Dave was another story. Everything that made Dave 'Dave' was gone, lost to the fire. Seeing my friend so lost and withdrawn was upsetting. I had never seen him like this before. Shit I doubt Dave had ever known himself like this before. The only thing he had left was his cigarettes. In fact, I think it was only the fags stopping him from doing a full on Michael Douglas from Falling Down.
With Emily in my arms and Dave behind me, we carefully followed Butty along Balfour Street, avoiding the carpet of dead bodies that lay across the road. As we edged closer to Barry's the more bodies we encountered and man they were a diverse bunch of corpses. There was a transvestite with one arm, what appeared to be one of Barry's paperboys and a rather large naked old lady with a push bike on top of her. It was quite the collection.
Now directly in front of the newsagents, I looked upon the spray painted window and the door to the shop with the 'Open' sign showing.
"I'll go in first; Barry and I go way back. Hopefully he won't get spooked if he sees it’s me," Butty reasoned.
With his hand behind his back and knife gripped tightly, Butty cautiously opened the shop door and stepped inside. I heard him mumble something and then clear as day I heard Barry laugh and shout the following…
"Bloody hell Butty, it's the end of the world and you’re still trying to buy a copy of Splosh you dirty sod!"
Butty popped his head out of the door and, looking rather sheepish, he motioned for us to come in.
Inside it was business as usual. The shelving units were fully stocked with Barry's marvellous collection of snacks, magazines, canned drinks that you thought were discontinued years ago and of course all the little things you cannot buy from any place else that make a shop like this a life safer.
"Now then, what can I get you?" Barry said with a smile from behind his counter.
"You know you really should lock that door?" I said.
"Nonsense! Just because we're living in a zombie apocalypse it doesn't mean people no longer need their local newsagents. What are they going to do when they run out of toilet paper? Only 25p for an individual roll here. Or what about when the cold weather disappears and all the decaying zombies start stinking up the place? 89p for a can of air freshener and it’s 2 for 1 at the moment! You can’t beat those prices. Now then, you guys look like you've been through a lot. I’d say food and a refreshing drink will sort you out. So that's four Pot Noodles and four cans of Lucozade… that will be £6.48 please and I'll boil a kettle for your pot noodles for free. How's about that?" Barry said.
"Actually he's right John, when you think about it there is no need to lock the door. The large amount of dead outside is enough to mask any living scent and zombies are not exactly known for their co-ordination. I'll eat my smalls if I ever see one of them manage a door handle and we all know how dirty my duds are. Even if one does manage to come in I'm sure Barry could take care of it and judging by the dead bastards outside you already have done. You've got a good set up here Barry and you're right. Apocalypse or not, people still need to wipe their arseholes and fill their bellies. Plus it's small enough for looters to pass by. Most will be hitting the larger stores and won’t think to loot the smaller places like this. Everyone knows you around here as well and loyalty and trust means a lot, even if it is the end of the world. You keep that door unlocked and serve this community till your stock runs out. But food and drink are not what we need. We need somewhere to stay for the night. We were attacked. We've lost our home and a life too. They burnt down my house and one of our own was taken and murdered right in front of us. All we ask is that we stay here for one night and we'll be on our way first thing in the morning. As soon as the sun comes up we'll be gone but it's too dangerous for us to travel at night, especially on foot. What do you say?" Butty asked.
Barry lifted the hatch in his counter and walked to the shop door, locking it then changing the sign in the window to 'Closed'. He then moved over to the magazine section of the shop and retrieved a copy of Splosh from the top shelf then handed it to Butty.
"Stay as long as you need," he said.
We sat in the store room of BJ & J Owens whilst its owner described everything that had happened to him since the outbreak. We got to know about his encounter with the paperboy, his regulars turning into zombies and trying to eat him, the cyclist that came in yesterday asking for help and his superhero girlfriend that came looking for him. Barry even let us have the Pot Noodles and drinks for free. Now I'm not exactly a fan of the freeze dried nutrition free grot pots but it was a damn sight more appealing than facing another tin of my brother's spam, of which he still carried a small sup
ply.
Dave was a man without identity, offering one word answers and shoulder shrugs as responses to questions. Emily had still not spoken a word since Jonathon's death but she was no longer sobbing and instead sat quietly on the floor, hugging her legs whilst hiding her face behind her hair. It was a quiet and subdued evening but I sensed Barry was glad of the company and we were most definitely appreciative of his hospitality.
As the evening progressed I noticed Butty was in deep thought. He was a simple man and easy to work out. His silence combined with his eyes flicking from side to side meant he was working out our next move. I had to ask.
"What are you thinking brother?" I said.
"I'm thinking that tomorrow we rebuild. We've all been through a lot today but we do not have time to grieve and mourn what we have lost, not yet anyway. We need to move forward and quickly. Tomorrow we find a new place. Somewhere secure and we start again. I've got a place in mind but I need to give it some more thought so I suggest we rest the best we can and in the morning we'll discuss it further. Everyone agree?" he said.
Dave nodded a solemn reply whilst sucking down on a cigarette.
"I think you're right. We need to rest, take stock then tomorrow we move out. Emily, what do you think?" I asked.
Emily slowly lifted her head and spoke for the first time since Jonathon’s death.
"What do I think? I think the man that did this to us, that burnt down our home and killed Jonathon, has made a massive mistake. He might not know it yet, in fact he’s probably feeling pretty happy with himself right now, but soon he’ll come to realise that he fucked with the wrong people. So here’s what I think. I think he’s a fucking dead man! A fucking dead man walking!”
Then the power went out and I, after sitting in darkness for some time, fell asleep. But not for long.
"Wakey wakey little brother," Butty whispered.
I was having a severe case of deja vu. It was almost twenty four hours since my brother woke me with the exact same words only this time instead of his crazy grin greeting me when I opened my eyes, his face was stern and serious. How long I had been asleep I did not know but after the lights went out following Emily's vengeful words, the store room of BJ & J Owens fell silent. After everything we had been through there was nothing left to say or do but rest. I can’t speak for the others but for me, sleep did not come easy. Emily's words lit a fire within me the likes I had never felt before. She wanted revenge for what the man with the blue van had done to Jonathon and she wasn't alone. Butty, for all of his words of finding somewhere secure where we could start again had other ideas. He too wanted payback. When you've known my brother as long as I have, you can see through his lies. Everything he said about finding a new place to call home was him testing the water, to see if we wanted the same thing he did. Emily's response gave him all the confirmation he needed and I know why he had woken me. He thought I needed convincing but he was wrong.
We left the dark store room and entered the shop area of Barry's where 80s Dave was waiting, sat on the floor against the magazine shelving unit smoking a cigarette.
"I'm in," I said purposely.
"How do you know what I was going to say?" Butty replied with bafflement.
"Brother, you are as transparent as you are crazy. All that talk last night about finding a new place and starting again? Pull the other one! After what that guy did to Jonathon and to your home? No, this isn’t over. Not by a long way," I replied.
"Don’t forget my fucking Walkman and battle paddle lar. When I find the prick I'm going to grab that manky head he carries around and shove it so far up his arse the cunt will be walking like a… well, like a fucking cunt that's what! Sorry about the insult that was terrible. I can’t think straight without my music," Dave moaned, frustrated with his appalling attempt at a threat.
"As I said, I'm in but on one condition. Emily has no part of this. You heard her last night, she's out for blood but I can’t risk losing her. She's all I've got, apart from you two loony tunes of course," I said.
"Way ahead of you little bro. I had a word with Barry and he slipped some Night Nurse into her drink so she'll be out for hours. It's only a short walk back up to the house. With any luck the fire will be out by now and we can see if anything is worth salvaging. Then we come back and we plan what our next move will be. Hopefully, Emily will have calmed down a little and we can bring her round to our way of thinking that yes, this prick has to pay but we need to plan and be organised. The way her head is at the moment she would probably kick down every door of every house in Runcorn till she found him. I think maybe a scouting mission into Weston Point for our first move? That’s where they headed and it can’t be too hard to find a large blue transit van. Dave and I got a pretty good look at it when we were out yesterday. We'll find him John, mark my words," Butty assured.
"What do we do when we do find him? We want revenge but we're not killers. I don’t think I'm capable of doing what he did to us," I replied with concern.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, John. We don’t have to kill him, just put him in a situation where it's impossible for him to survive," Butty said firmly, his eyes and tone of voice told me he had a plan.
Before we left I entered the store room and looked over Emily. She was well away, lost to a deep sleep. I hoped to God her dreams took her to a place far away where she could find peace for a while. Barry sat next to her, the dim light from the open doorway illuminated them both.
"Don’t worry about your daughter, she's safe here with me," he smiled.
We left Barry's and headed towards my brother's house. Unfortunately, Butty had insisted we wear zombie limb links around our necks again to mask our scent. Apart from Dave who threatened to put a boot up my brother's arse if he came anywhere near him with his bag of rotting zombie parts. We had also liberated several magazines from Barry’s shop and wrapped them around our arms and legs with gaffa tape. It was Butty that chose, going straight for the top shelf and the large collection of ‘specialist’ magazines. When I questioned him on his choice he had replied…
“The thing with porno mags John, is that they are very well laminated. Easy to wipe clean you see. The publishers know their punters well and it also makes them difficult to tear, rip or even bite through. This makes ‘grumble’ magazines such as Razzle, Bumper Booties, Milk Maid and Filthy GILFS perfect zombie armour!”
The clever bastard! It was kind of annoying that it was me that ended up with Filthy GILFS strapped to my forearms. At least there was no chance of me getting distracted. I did notice however that Butty never used his treasured copy of Splosh!
It was early morning and the air outside was cool. The sun was struggling to make an appearance hidden by black rain clouds quilting the Runcorn skyline. It was as cold as ever. Like the night before, Balfour Street was littered with the dead. They were everywhere. There were so many rotting zombie carcasses we could barely see the road beneath them. And the smell! It was worse than music festival port-a-loos after a 4 day event! Do you remember the turd Dave left in Butty’s toilet? Well that smelt like Heaven in comparison. I don’t think I’ll ever get use to the smell of the dead.
There were pockets of zombies shuffling along the streets, in the roads and loitering outside of homes that no doubt housed survivors. It reminded me of 3am on New Year’s Eve. The pubs are shut and the streets are full of drunken idiots looking to keep the celebrations going, banging on doors trying to find a house party. Luckily for us, the limb links masked our scent and we walked by largely unnoticed, with only Dave attracting attention from the occasional zombie but that wasn’t a problem. He was so full of aggression a small horde wouldn’t have stood a chance against him and his crowbar. Not that he held much love for his crowbar and every time he crushed an undead skull I could hear him muttering to himself.
Thwack!
“Fucking stupid pathetic piece of shit crowbar!”
Splat!
“Should be 10 times as big at least. And
made of plastic!”
Thwomp!
“You could never stir mayonnaise with this!”
You get the gist!
It didn’t take long for us to walk to the house. The fire had gone out but smoke still engulfed the building, appearing to seep out from between every brick and out of every window. It was heart breaking to see. The home we had grown up in was all but destroyed and only the foundations remained. It’s an old house with a solid structure and if this wasn’t the end of the world then the damage could be repaired; only building firms are a bit thin on the ground these days.
Before we approached the house we looked along the road to where Jonathon had died. It was horrible. His lifeless body blue from the cold lay slumped against the lamp post he had been tied to. Beside him were the slayed bodies of the two zombies that had tumbled out of the blue van. There we stood for several minutes just looking at the poor kid, not saying a word.
“We’ll bury him, do it properly. It’s what he deserves but not yet. We can’t afford the time,” Butty said softly, breaking the long silence.
“No, but we can move him away from the road so he’s not out in the open for every fucker to see,” Dave replied.
Dave untied Jonathon, picked him up and headed towards the house. We followed, walking down the steep stone steps, through blackened burnt overgrowth to the opening at the front of the house. The zombie heads on spikes now resembled over cooked BBQ meat speared with kebab skewers. At least I could no longer recognise their faces.
Dave booted the front door which easily came off its hinges and crashed to the floor. Purposely he carried Jonathon inside. I moved to follow him but Butty placed a hand on my shoulder.
“This way John. We’ll let Dave put Jonathon to rest, he can catch us up when he’s done. Follow me,” he instructed.
I followed him as we walked around the outside of the house till we arrived in the large back garden, stopping in front of the huge mound of slayed zombies that had largely been unaffected by the fire. Only the outer bodies had been burnt, their clothes singed and shrivelled and their rotting flesh had bubbled from the heat.
The Death in a Northern Town Trilogy (Books 1-3): Welcome To Dead Town Page 29