Demise of the Living

by Iain McKinnon

  The hammer was still embedded an inch or two in the man’s skull.

  “What were we supposed to do when a pervert comes breaking in on two young girls, your Honour?” Shan said, giggling, the remnants of the hash still heavy in her system.

  “It’s not funny, Shan,” Karen said. She wasn’t able to take her eyes off the dead man. “This is fucked up. We’re not even supposed to be here.”

  There was a sudden clunk and the music stopped.

  “Shit. The batteries are dead,” Shan said.

  “So what, Shan?” Karen said. “How’s that important when there’s a dead man on the floor of Nate’s Grandma’s?”

  “Look out the window,” Shan said calmly.

  “What?”

  “Look.”

  Karen stepped past her friend and the dead body on the floor.

  With the stereo off and the window broken, she could hear the sounds from the street. There were screams wafting across the estate on wisps of acrid smoke. A siren retreated into the distance.

  She looked out of the empty window.

  Plumes of smoke were dirtying the azure skies, spawned from various unseen fires. A car raced down the street, bodywork bashed, windscreen shattered, and a spray of blood streaked from nose to tail. Drunken figures lumbered after the speeding vehicle, their arms outstretched, their gait stiff.

  Karen stepped back from the window and turned to Shan.

  “Christ—what the hell did we miss?”

  Chapter 4

  Siren

  “Be quiet!” Stephen hissed.

  “I don’t hear anything,” John said, crowding in on him.

  “You keep talking over them,” Stephen complained.

  “Sit down, John,” Sharon chided.

  Along the first floor office window a crowd had gathered to try to make out what the noise was and where it was coming from. A police car came zigzagging its way down the road, avoiding as best it could the random people in its path.

  “Did you see that?! He just clipped that guy!” Mo said, astonished.

  “He’s not even stopping to check him. He could be dead or injured,” Colin added.

  “He’s not stopping for anyone,” John said.

  Melissa clambered onto the windowsill.

  “Get down from there,” Liz said, but Melissa ignored her.

  “Be quiet!” Stephen again hissed.

  The police car’s lights were flashing and there was a voice blaring out from its speakers, not the regular siren.

  The mob of insane people who had been crowding the foyer entrance abandoned their siege and hobbled over in the direction of the police car.

  “Do these windows open?” Colin asked, looking around.

  Mo came to his aid, unhooking a latch at the top third of the window.

  As soon as the window was opened, they all heard the distorted voice from the police vehicle.

  “—in your homes and wait further instruction. This is a police announcement. It is unsafe to be on the streets at this time. Seek shelter immediately. Barricade yourself in your homes or places of work. Avoid contact with the infected. Do not approach people who appear to be acting irrationally. Stay in your homes and wait further instruction.”

  Colin dragged a chair up to the window, and using the extra height he slipped his head and arm through the opening. He shouted, “Hey! Hey! Up here!”

  The police car continued weaving around the wrecked cars and shambling figures.

  “This is a police announcement. It is unsafe to be on the streets at this time. Seek shelter immediately. Barricade yourself in your homes or places of work…”

  The sound trailed off as the car turned onto the town plaza. In its wake came a procession of shambling figures.

  “Who are they?” Mo asked, looking down at the mob.

  The police car was far outstripping their pursuit, but when it turned the corner and disappeared from sight the crowd continued to follow, picking up more and more numbers as it went.

  Colin stepped down from the window and gave a sigh.

  “Looks like the cops won’t be much help,” he said, finding a chair to slump into.

  “Hell, will you look at that?” John said, taking Colin’s spot at the window.

  A number of the stragglers had given up their chase and were now lumbering, arms outstretched, towards the office block.

  Sharon had her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

  “Great,” she said. “Just what we need—a mob of G8 rioters outside the front doors.”

  She turned to Mo and Gary in their grey and blue uniforms.

  “Doesn’t your depot have a contingency for this?” she asked.

  “No,” Mo said softly.

  Gary pushed himself up from the chair he’d been resting in. His face was swathed in squares of wound dressings that overlapped, forming odd angles.

  “For this?” Gary said, gesturing out of the window.

  “For this?” he said more intensely, walking up to Sharon.

  “Gary…” Mo said.

  Sharon dropped her hands from her hips, but didn’t drop her gaze.

  “For this?!” Gary shouted angrily, now inches from her face.

  Sharon didn’t flinch. She folded her arms and continued to stare back at him.

  “Gary,” Mo said more forcefully, clasping a hand round his bicep. Gentler, he added, “Gary, sit back down.”

  Gary gave Sharon one last stare before letting his colleague guide him back to his seat. Once he was seated he straightened up.

  “I doubt there’s anything in place for things of this short notice,” Mo said.

  “Short notice? When do crazies request written permission?” Colin asked.

  “I mean if there were something like a G8 summit we’d have extra staff on and time to prepare an operations plan. But this? We’re just a private security firm; we depend on the police as much as the next guy.”

  “So you’re saying we pay you for nothing?” John asked.

  Mo shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we’re not equipped or trained to deal with major civil disobedience. If there’s a riot kicking off, we’re instructed to call the police, evacuate the premises where possible, or to stay in a secure location if not. That’s it. Nothing fancy.”

  “Fat lot of use that is,” John huffed. He paced off in the opposite direction.

  “So is that it? We just sit here and wait?” Stephen asked.

  Colin was looking out of the office window, his breath misting the glass, “And hope they don’t get in.”

  Outside, the throng of stragglers who had been following the police car and now had lost track of it started to drift towards the office entrance.

  “We can’t just sit here. My boy needs medical attention,” Liz said. She stood up and pointed at her child. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

  “Hospital gets my vote,” Gary added.

  “You can’t just walk out there,” John said, turning back to the group. “There are dozens of those psychos on the street.”

  “Has anybody got a car?” Liz asked.

  John looked round at Sharon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Well?” Liz demanded. “Any of you?”

  John folded his arms and leaned back against the window. He said, “Listen, I think the security guard has the right idea. We just sit tight. I’m not driving anywhere until it calms down out there.”

  “Please, we need to get Grant to a doctor,” Liz pleaded. “He’s been bitten. He needs stitches and pain killers and antibiotics.”

  John nodded at Mo and said, "Your man there has patched it up pretty good from what I’ve seen. He’ll be fine.”

  “You don't know that,” Liz replied.

  “He’ll be fine. I got banged up worse than that most weekends when I was that age. You know what we were like as kids; none of this mollycoddling, parental wrapping us up in cotton wool.”

  Liz took a step towards John, her
face flushed.

  “That little boy has just seen his dad killed out in the street. He’s bleeding and traumatized,” she said as she marched up to the man. She held her hand out and with the point of her index finger she stabbed at the overweight office worker’s chest.

  John tried to step back, but the window was all too soon at his back.

  “He’ll be fine?” Liz drummed out her words with thumps of her index finger against the man’s flabby chest. “You don’t know if he’ll be fine! I don’t think you have the medical training to make such a call.”

  Liz stood statue still, staring into John’s watery eyes.

  “If you’re staying put, you won’t mind if we borrow your car then?” Gary said from behind Liz, his face white with the fresh plasters.

  John stuttered, “It... It...It’s not insured for other drivers.”

  “I hardly think that’s an issue,” Gary said, crowding in on a trembling John.

  “It’s okay,” Stephen said from across the room. “I’ll give you a lift.”

  “Thank you,” Liz said joyfully.

  “You’re leaving?” Sharon asked.

  “Yeah,” Stephen said with a nod.

  “You’ve only just got in,” Sharon said.

  “Look at what’s happening here. I want to go check on my fiancée, make sure she’s okay,” Stephen said.

  “But what about the police announcement?” Sharon protested. “It’s not safe to be out on the streets.”

  “Then I need to get home all the more,” Stephen said firmly.

  Sharon showed her disappointment with a deep frown.

  That old witch has got a crush on him for sure, John told himself. He shook his head involuntarily, disapproving of his boss’ desires.

  “It’s not like the work needs me,” Stephen said, looking round at the empty office.

  “I’m sure there’s something in the staff handbook about telling people not to come into work if it’s dangerous,” John threw in.

  “Yeah,” Stephen said. He pointed two fingers at John in a parody of a gunshot.

  John nodded to Stephen, pretending to appreciate the signal while detesting him for being a young, know-it-all poser.

  “Well, we can’t make you stay,” Sharon said, looking up from Stephen to address the rest of the group, “but I do think it would be safer for all of us to wait here. At least until we can get some idea of the situation.”

  “Have you got a radio or anything?” Colin asked from his position on the fringes of the group.

  “There’s a satellite TV in the canteen,” Mo said.

  “Regardless of the news reports, I want to get home,” Stephen said.

  “Stephen…” Sharon placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I just want you—I just want all of us to be safe and I don’t think going home is the answer.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Sharon, but if things aren’t safe out there, that’s all the more reason I have to get home.” Stephen gave Sharon a smile and started making for the exit. Addressing Gary and Liz, he said, “If you guys want, it won’t take much for me to detour past the hospital.”

  “Do you want me to come with you, Gary?” Mo asked.

  Before Gary could answer Stephen butted in, “I don't think there’ll be room in the car for you as well.”

  Mo looked at the two children and nodded in agreement.

  “Right,” Stephen said, jingling his car keys. “Hopefully this is all nothing and I’ll be back at my desk nine sharp tomorrow morning.”

  He made his trademark salute and blew on the ends of his fingers as if they were the barrels of a gun.

  ***

  “Shan what do we do?” Karen asked, more calmly than she thought she could.

  Shan pursed her lips. “Hmm?”

  She looked around the dimly-lit garage before placing the hammer back down on the workbench. The only light was coming from the chink between the top and bottom of the garage door.

  “There’s fuck-all here,” Shan said.

  “I want to go home,” Karen said.

  Shan sucked in a wisp of the hash-laden air through her pursed lips.

  “As good a place as any, I suppose.”

  Karen smiled. She’d expected to have to argue with her friend.

  She walked over to the adjoining door.

  “Where you going?” Shan asked.

  “You said…”

  “We’re going out this way.” Shan pointed at the garage shutter. “I’m not walking—not with those maniacs out there.”

  Shan gestured with a sharp nod at the motorbike at the back of the garage.

  “That old thing?” Karen said.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? It’s filthy.”

  “It’s a dirt bike. Clue’s in the name,” Shan said, shrugging.

  “I wouldn’t eat the pizza that was delivered on that thing.”

  “So, what—you too much of a princess to get your ass dirty?”

  “We don’t even know if it works.”

  “Of course it works. Me and Nate were up the back of the Wreks with it last month.”

  “Can you even drive it?”

  “Shut up! 'Course I can,” Shan said. She explained, “I’ll start it up, you open the door. Then you jump on the back and we’re off to your house.”

  “Suppose,” Karen said weakly, unable to muster any more arguments against it. She had never felt safe on the back of Nate’s bike and she didn’t have much confidence in her friend’s abilities.

  “You ready?” Shan asked.

  This was the fastest way back home and Karen knew it.

  “Where’s the helmets?” she asked.

  “For fuck’s sake, here.” Shan tossed a peaked Motocross helmet at her friend.

  Karen fumbled the catch and the helmet clattered to the hard concrete floor.

  “Diff,” Shan chastised.

  There was a moan from somewhere nearby.

  The two girls froze.

  The light from under the garage door flickered as a pair of feet blocked the light.

  Shan pushed her index finger to her lips.

  The pair held themselves in silence, both staring down at the shadow, both praying the person on the other side of the shutter would go away.

  Another moan issued from behind the door and the banging started.

  “Shit,” Shan said. She stretched over and picked the hammer back up. She told Karen, “Open it.”

  Karen simply stood there looking at the vibrating shutters, oblivious to Shan’s command.

  “Open it!” Shan shouted.

  The moaning became louder, more excited, but still Karen didn’t move.

  Shan stood up and kicked down on the start peg. The ignition caught and the garage was filled with the burbling engine noise.

  “Come on, open it!” she shouted again.

  Reticently, Karen stepped up to the centre of the door and flipped the lock. She was about to let one of those maniacs in on purpose and it took all her courage to act. She and Shan were safe behind the shutter for now, but Karen knew she had to get back home.

  She pulled at the top of the door while at the same time pushing her foot to the bottom. The door squeaked open a few degrees before catching on something. Karen pulled down hard with both hands and the resistance waned. She tugged, dropping her whole weight into the effort. The shutter swung up high, flooding the garage with light.

  The hands had her before she could react—cold, waxy things with a claw-like grip.

  Karen screamed. The motorbike behind her screeched and her friend blurred past her.

  Karen shrieked, “Shan!” but the bike had whipped round and sped from view.

  Karen pushed back at the attacker, a man a good foot taller than her. His hair was dark and matted, his flesh drained of colour, but his lips were red with the lustre of fresh blood.

  “No!” she cried.

  She slapped at the man, trying to push him off, but he held fast. A pink froth
trickled from his open mouth as he lent in for the bite.

  There was a shrill whine and the man lunged forward, falling on top of her.

  Karen hit the concrete floor hard, knocking the breath out of her chest. The man landed with his face buried deep into her neck. Karen twisted and kicked, trying to free herself when the man flopped off her.

  “Get up!” Shan screamed.

  Karen looked up at her friend to see a clump of tangled hair dangling from the face of the hammer.

  Shan offered her free hand.

  “Come on! The street’s full of them!”

  Karen scrabbled to her feet.

  “Hold the front of the bike,” Shan said as she hurried to the back tyre. “On three, you pull the front end round this way.” She indicated the direction with a tilt of her head.

  Placing her hands on the handlebars close to the steering column, Karen nodded she was ready.

  “One, two, three!”

  The two girls lifted and twirled the heavy bike round to face back out of the garage.

  “Get on and hold on,” Shan said as she vaulted onto the saddle.

  Karen did the same. “The helmet?”

  “Fuck that.”

  Shan wrenched the throttle and the bike was in the brilliant daylight of the street.

  The wind threw Karen’s hair back in billowing sheets. Some of it whipped round to be caught in her mouth. Too scared to let go of Shan’s waist, Karen tried in vain to blow the hair away.

  As they hurtled along, Karen peered through the fluttering locks of hair at the roads they sped down. The bike would slow down, twist, and zigzag, and then speed up again at seemingly random moments as her driver swerved to avoid unexpected obstacles.

  The racing wind stung her eyes and made her gulp down breaths tainted with strands of her own hair. Karen gave up trying to see what was going on. She buried her head tight up against Shan’s shoulder and fought back the urge to cry.

  ***

  “Do you believe that?!” Gary shouted at no one in particular.

  “Keep your voice down,” Liz scolded. “You’re frightening my children.”

  “I mean, come on—a flu epidemic?” Gary said, gesturing at the car radio.