by Perrin Briar
“Are you all right?” Chris said.
Her eyes were wide and startled.
“I’ll go check the damage,” Chris said.
He got out and walked around the car. The back left wheel had been sliced open and lay in rags. He walked back to the road and approached the area where he’d seen the objects glint in the sunlight.
The chewed-up rags of his car tyres stuck up between the long thick shards of glass like debris in a monster’s teeth. Chris opened the Porsche’s boot. In the back was a spare, but no jack.
“Perfect,” he said.
He put his hands on his hips and let out a sigh. He was facing the village of Little Bytham. He got back in the car. Maisie looked calmer now.
“I’m going to go see if there’s a garage in the village,” Chris said.
He started the engine and reversed. He put the car into first and edged it along the verge and onto the road. The shredded tyre flapped against the tarmac.
They passed large old buildings on the outskirts of the village, and then smaller terrace houses that backed up directly onto the road as they got into the centre. There was no one on the road. Chris let out a relieved sigh when he saw a large shed with the words, ‘George’s Garage’ written across the front in a plain black-on-white font.
The door was open. Chris drove the Porsche inside. The smell of oil, sweat and dirt hit him the moment he opened his door.
“Hello?” Chris said out loud.
The jack hung on the wall, where all the tools had been neatly organised. Chris moved to the door at the back of the garage that led to the office. He tried it, but it was locked.
“I don’t know if anyone’s there,” Chris said, “but we got a flat tyre on the way into the village and I don’t have a jack. I’m just going to use yours and then we’ll get out of here.”
Silence answered him. He took off his jacket and sat it on the backseat.
“You need to get out for a minute,” Chris said to Maisie.
She took off her seatbelt and climbed out of the car.
“Can you sit near the entrance and keep watch for anyone who comes by?” Chris said.
She said nothing, and turned to head toward the entrance.
“Hey,” Chris said, his hand catching the crook of her elbow. “Are you all right?”
Maisie nodded, and then her face scrunched up and she started crying.
“I thought we were going to die,” she said.
“Aw, come here,” Chris said, wrapping his arms awkwardly around her. “We’re all right, aren’t we? I’ll get this wheel fixed and we’ll get out of this village and carry on like nothing ever happened, all right?”
Maisie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded.
“Sit beside the entrance there and keep watch,” Chris said. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”
Chris watched her, his stomach twisting. Sometimes he forgot how young she was. She sat on a white plastic chair, stained by streaks of dirt from men’s hands and overalls.
Chris wound the jack so it touched the car’s chassis, but didn’t lift it up. He put the lug wrench on the nut and pushed on it. He hit the wrench a few times with his palm to loosen the nut. It squeaked and then began to turn. He removed the first nut, and carefully placed the pieces into a small heap to one side. He got to work on the other bolts. Then he jacked up the back end of the car, removed the wheel, and replaced it with the new one. He screwed the bolts on with his hands before using the lug wrench to tighten them. He wound the jack back down, the car lowering onto the ground. He found an old cloth and wiped his hands.
“Chris,” Maisie said, “someone’s coming.”
Chris picked up the lug wrench, his grip growing tight.
“Living or dead?” he said.
“Living.”
Chris’s grip didn’t weaken. Maisie got off her chair and backed into the garage. A pretty girl poked her head around the door frame, a big smile on her face. Chris relaxed immediately. She was obviously no threat.
“Hello,” the pretty girl said. “My name’s Abigail. I saw you arrive earlier. I live in the house at the far end of the village. Looks like you’ve got some tyre trouble.”
“A little,” Chris said. “Look, I’m just here to use the tools. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re not in my hair.”
She stared him directly in the eye and smiled. It produced a reaction in Chris he’d have preferred not to have had with Maisie present.
“Is there anyone else in the village?” Chris said.
“A few,” Abigail said. “They’re locked up tight in their homes most of the time. It’s the only way to be safe. Where are you from?”
“Nottingham.”
“How is it over there?”
“Not good.”
“We’ve been listening to the news. It doesn’t sound good anywhere.”
“So you locked yourselves in your homes to protect yourselves?”
“Defence is the best offence. You don’t have any bite marks do you?”
“No,” Chris said. “Do you?”
“Nope. But you can check me over, if you want,” she said, staring him dead in the eye again.
Chris blinked, not sure if she had really said what he thought she had, or if he’d imagined it. He felt a stronger reaction this time. Maisie just looked at Abigail, unaware of the full impact of the comment she’d just made. Abigail turned to Maisie and flashed her brilliant smile.
“I bet you’d like some sweets, wouldn’t you?” she said. “If you want, you can go into the Mini Mart across the road and get yourself a few packets. What do you say?”
Maisie looked up at her father, who nodded.
“It’s all right,” he said. “You can go.”
“Is it safe?” Maisie said.
“Oh yes,” Abigail said. “Super safe. You go over there and have a good look around, okay? There’s lots to choose from, so take your time.”
Abigail looked at Chris, but spoke to Maisie.
“You can take whatever you want,” she said.
“Okay,” Maisie said.
“And Maisie,” Chris said. “Can you get some other food? Your granny might be a bit low on supplies.”
“Okay,” Maisie said. “What kind of things shall I get?”
“Anything in tins and packets is good. Stuff that’ll last a long time. Take your time.”
“All right.”
She ran out of the garage and crossed the road. With Maisie gone, the space in the garage felt small and intimate. Abigail turned to Chris with her beaming smile.
“So,” Chris said, not sure how to continue. “How’s the apocalypse treating you?”
Abigail’s smile disappeared and she took on a very business-like tone.
“We don’t have long,” Abigail said. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. It’s the end of the world. I know that, and call me crazy, but I believe we should be able to do whatever we want when we’re in that position, and well, I want to explore my body before the end comes. So, would you sleep with me? I know how it sounds.”
“Why me? There must be loads of boys in your village.”
“All the good looking ones have gone off to join the army barracks, and the men left behind are all older than my granddad, or complete pricks. I’m not normally this forward.”
“I’m not normally this lucky.”
Abigail bit her bottom lip.
“Time is against us,” she said.
“Where do you want to do it?”
Abigail smiled.
“How about on the backseat of your car?” she said. “Two bucket list items at once.”
“What if someone comes?” Chris said.
“Oh, I intend to,” Abigail said with a grin.
Chris laughed.
“Don’t worry, they won’t come out of their houses,” Abigail said. “Only the neighbourhood watch comes around, and they’re not due for a
nother half an hour.”
She opened the backdoor and climbed in, laying on the backseat. Chris lay down on top of her, and they made out. Looking down at her now, Chris was struck by how smooth her skin was, how innocent her eyes.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Chris said.
Abigail blinked.
“What makes you say that?” she said.
“Nothing. You seem young. How old are you?”
“I turned sixteen last week.”
Chris raised an eyebrow.
“How old are you really?” he said.
She looked to the side.
“Fifteen,” she said. “But I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months.”
Chris thought for a moment, and then shrugged.
“Close enough.”
Z-MINUS: 4 HOURS 50 MINUTES
Maisie took ten minutes to choose her sweets. She opted for a sherbet dip, a lollipop and a packet of fruit pastels. She picked up a basket and started shopping. The shop was small, but packed to the rafters with food. Everything was well organised and had its place.
Her arms shook under the weight of the basket. She put the basket on the floor and added the items as she went. She added tins of baked beans, fruit, vegetables, sausages in brine, cuppa soup satchels, and two loaves of bread. She stepped onto a box, pulled a few instant noodle packets free and added them too. The basket was full, and she had just started work on a second one when the backdoor bell rang and the door opened.
A large boy in his late teens, backed by a few friends, came into the shop, laughing at a joke they’d just shared. Their laughter died when they saw Maisie. The leader of the group smiled.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like we’ve got us a little mouse.”
Z-MINUS: 4 HOURS 39 MINUTES
“So that’s what all the fuss is about,” Abigail said, lying on Chris’s chest. “It was great while it lasted, but now that’s it over… I don’t know. I feel a bit disappointed.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Chris said, “that’s how everyone feels.”
“Then why does everyone keep going on about it?”
“Because it’s a basic human desire. It’s like feeling hungry. Eventually you need to scratch the itch.”
“Now that I’ve done it, I don’t see the problem with doing it with anyone much older or younger than me.”
Chris stared at her.
“What have I created?” he said.
Abigail giggled.
“A monster,” she said.
She pressed her small pert breasts to Chris’s chest.
“Do you want to do it again?” she said.
“I can’t. Maisie will be back soon.”
Chris put on his shirt and jacket, did up his trousers and stood up. Abigail put her T-shirt and skirt back on.
“There was glass on the road outside the village,” Chris said. “Was there an accident?”
“We put it there as protection. People thought if the zombies’ feet were damaged they wouldn’t be able to walk into town.”
Chris snorted and shook his head.
“Haven’t you ever seen one of these things?” he said.
“No. None of us have. Except on TV.”
“They don’t feel pain. They keep coming at you again and again and again. There’s no stopping them, except by destroying their brains.”
Abigail straightened her hair.
“How do I look?” she said.
“Ruined.”
She smiled at that and swaggered toward the door.
“If you’re ever in town again, make sure to drop me a line,” she said.
“I will,” Chris said, knowing he wouldn’t. She might know how to bump and grind now, but he doubted if she knew much about family planning.
Abigail headed down the street back toward her home. Chris put on his boots and tied the laces. He crossed the road to the Mini Mart. The bell rang when he entered.
“Maisie?” he said.
There was no reply.
“Maisie?” he said again.
He walked down the short aisles, but found no sign of her. There was a basket full of food on the floor. He opened his mouth to say her name again when he heard voices. He looked through the glass in the backdoor.
Four tall young men with broad shoulders stood around Maisie. Two held her arms. Another, the leader, Chris thought, had his face up close to Maisie. His face was curled up in a mask of rage. Another boy stood blithely on, watching from the side lines.
“Why were you stealing from our store?” the leader said.
“I told you,” Maisie said, “I wasn’t stealing. A girl told me I could shop there!”
“And what’s this supposed girl’s name?”
“Anne? Agnes? I don’t remember. She’s young and pretty.”
“This food is meant to provide for all the village till all the zombies are gone. It’s not going to last long with someone stealing it.”
Maisie was in tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. Please, let me go!”
“Well, you know now, but we’re going to have to make sure you remember in future.”
The leader approached with his finger in Maisie’s face. Maisie stopped crying and stepped forward. She bit the end of the leader’s finger, and then aimed a swift kick at his shin. The boy howled, and shook his hand off. Red droplets stained his shirt.
Amidst the confusion, Maisie turned and ran toward the shop, slipping free of one boy’s fingers. But the second boy kept hold of her. She turned to kick him on the shin too, but he turned at the last minute, and it was only a glancing blow. Maisie spat in his face, and clawed at his cheek with her fingernails, drawing blood.
“My face!” the boy said. “My beautiful face!”
The boy let Maisie go, but she got nowhere as the leader grabbed her and threw her to the ground.
“You’re going to pay for that!” the leader said, raising his heavy boot.
The shop doorbell rang and Chris stepped outside.
“I’ll pay for it,” Chris said.
“She was stealing our food!” the leader said.
“It’s not stealing if no one owns it.”
“We own it!”
“No,” Chris said. “The shop owners own it. If they present themselves, I’ll pay for what we’ve taken.”
Chris helped Maisie up, and led her toward the shop.
“You can’t take our food!” the leader said.
“Watch me,” Chris said.
Chris heard heavy lumbering footsteps behind him. He was expecting it, and spun around, bringing his leg up, catching the leader in the chest, and pushed him back. He landed on his backside with a heavy “Oof!”
“What’s going on here?” a deep voice said.
A squat man with a scraggly brown beard and barrel-chest approached. He had no neck, and instead had large muscular rounded shoulders, like a bull. The type of man who’d normally spend every free minute and penny he had in the pub, swiftly followed by bar room brawls, but circumstances had forced him into a position of power. He wore a club at his waist. There were three men at his side. Chris sensed trouble and put himself between the man and Maisie.
“They’re trying to steal our food, Dad,” the teenage leader said, rubbing his chest and getting to his feet.
“All right, son,” the bearded man said, “I’ll take care of it from here.”
The teenage leader backed away, glaring at Chris, and watched the show from a safe distance.
“What’s your name, stranger?” the bearded man said.
“Chris. Chris Smith.”
“I’m Lionel. No doubt you’ve heard about the undead situation we’re faced with these days.”
“Yeap.”
“This village decided to do something about it. We’ve boarded up our windows, put defence measures in place, and collected all our food in one location. So, you see, we can’t let you have those items. We’re going to need them if
we’re going to survive.”
“Someone said we could take some.”
“That someone isn’t in charge. I am. Now, if you keep on driving, you’ll come to a village down the road. They might have something you can have.”
“Or they might not.”
Lionel shrugged.
“That’s the way it is, I’m afraid,” he said.
The silence was electric. On another day Chris might have let the situation slide, but the man’s tone irked him. It was cold, arrogant, and expected compliance. But Chris had never been the type to comply.
“No,” Chris said. “I think we’ll take what we have here. You can go forage in the next village.”
Lionel smiled.
“You must not have heard me,” he said. “These items are for the village. You’re not part of the village, therefore you can’t have them.”
“I’m in the village right now. So, I’m temporarily of the village, therefore… You know what? I don’t give a shit about your inbred politics. We’re taking this food and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Chris,” Maisie said, tugging on his hand. “Let’s just go.”
Maisie’s lip was bleeding from where her head had struck the concrete. The sight of it did nothing to soothe Christopher’s mood.
“I’d listen to your girl there, if I were you,” Lionel said.
“Your brave boys attacked an eight-year-old girl,” Chris said. “I think she’s entitled to a little recompense, and the items we’re taking ought to about cover it. Come on Maisie, let’s go.”
Chris took Maisie’s hand and led her toward the shop. As he shut the door he saw the murderous look on Lionel’s face.
“Grab anything that takes your fancy,” Chris said, putting a few more items in the baskets.
“Are you sure you should do this?” Maisie said.
“We’ll be fine.”
They came out through the front door to find Lionel and the other three men before him.
“It’s nice of you to see us off,” Chris said. “You really didn’t have to.”