by Perrin Briar
Maisie looked away from him.
“Come here,” Chris said.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she let him, but gave no inclination that she liked it.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Chris said. “It’s hard to know what to do without your mother here. I just want to do what’s best for you.”
“I lost my mother, my sister, and soon, my dad, all in one day,” she said. “It’s hard to get used to.”
“I know.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think you do. Soon, all your worries will be over. Mine have only just begun. I’m an eight-year-old with no family, no friends, and I’m all alone. If anyone should be angry, it should be me. But I’m not. I just want to find somewhere safe where I can try to live in peace from all these monsters.”
“They’re not the monsters,” Chris said. “I am. Why did you even follow me in the first place? You know what I’m like. You could have gone off, found someone else. Someone better.”
The dog came and rested his head on Maisie’s leg, looking up at her with his big eyes. Maisie rubbed behind his ears.
“Because even though you drink and swear and hit me sometimes, you’re the only family I’ve got,” she said. “And I didn’t want to lose you too.”
Chris wrapped his arm around Maisie. This time she leaned into him. He put his chin on the top of her head. The sun was nearing its apex in the sky, dusted lightly with wispy clouds. He didn’t need to look at his watch to know time was running short. Just what was he going to do?
The patio doors of the house behind them slid open, and a woman in her late thirties leaned out.
“Is everything all right?” she said. “I heard a commotion.”
“Everything’s fine,” Chris said.
He looked the woman over. She had a motherly appearance, exuding warmth and understanding, the way some people do.
“Or at least, I think it will be now,” Chris said with a smile.
Z-MINUS: 0 HOURS 56 MINUTES
“The electricity’s still on,” Janice said, setting two cups of tea down on the coffee table before Chris and Maisie.
“For now,” her husband Mark said.
Janice and Mark were the original odd couple. Janice was short and plump, her face round and welcoming. Her husband was tall and thin, with a scraggly beard.
“How is it out there?” Mark said.
“Hairy,” Chris said.
Mark reached into his pocket and took out a mini Snickers bar. The wrapper was gold and caught the light. He opened it and popped it into his mouth.
“Would you like one?” he asked Chris and Maisie.
“No thanks,” Chris said.
“I keep telling him they’re bad for his teeth,” Janice said, “but he never listens.”
Mark shrugged.
“They calm me down,” he said as he unwrapped another one and popped it in his mouth.
“Can I ask what your jobs were before all this kicked off?” Chris said.
“I was a teacher,” Janice said.
“And I was a computer programmer,” Mark said.
“Wow,” Chris said. “High flyers.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Mark said, “but we do all right. Or, rather, did all right. It’s difficult knowing which tense to use these days, don’t you find? I suppose we won’t know until this situation ends soon or carries on.”
Chris looked up at the photos on the mantelpiece. They showed happy smiles in exotic locations.
“You’ve got two children?” Chris said.
“A boy and a girl,” Janice said, a proud and yet sad smile on her face.
“Are they sleeping?”
“In a way,” Mark said.
“Paul and Emma,” Janice said, picking up a photo. “They were our everything. But there was an incident at school. One of the other kids fell asleep in class, and when he woke up, he started biting the students and teachers.”
“Was this at your school?” Chris said.
“No. I work… worked at the secondary school in town. I got a call that Paul had been hurt. I rushed to get there and brought him home. He rested and looked like he was going to be all right.
“But I made the mistake of letting his sister stay with him. He woke up and bit her. He was crazy, a monster. We couldn’t control him, so we put him outside. He scratched at the door for such a long time, and then he finally left. Paul had become somebody that was not our son.
“We couldn’t face killing Emma either. It was probably a selfish thing to do, but we took her out into the woods and let her go. She begged us not to leave her. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, leaving her alone like that. But hopefully she’ll be hunting animals instead of people.”
“You must miss them,” Chris said.
“With all our heart,” Mark said, wrapping a thin arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You’re very lucky to still have your daughter.”
“Thank you,” Chris said. “I am lucky.”
He smiled and squeezed Maisie’s tiny hand. She smiled back.
“Your hair needs a good combing through,” Janice said to Maisie. “I have one in my handbag.”
She reached into her handbag and came out with a thick-bristled comb. She looked at Chris.
“Do you mind?” she said.
Chris waved his hand as if to say, “Go ahead.” Janice held Maisie’s hair in one hand and ran the brush through it. She began at the ends, working out the worst of the knots, and then worked her way up to the roots.
“You have beautiful hair,” Janice said.
“Thank you,” Maisie said. “I take after my mother.”
Janice smiled.
“Then you and your mother are both very lucky,” she said. “My hair is very thin and it pulls out easily. Emma’s hair-”
She stopped herself.
“It’s all right,” Maisie said. “You can talk about her if you want. I’d like to know about her.”
Janice smiled with a gratefulness she could hardly put into words.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, all right. Well, Emma had very thin hair too, and she always hated it…”
Her words faded as Mark leaned in close to Chris.
“Lovely girl you’ve got there,” he said. “They look great together, don’t they?”
Chris looked over at the smiling Janice and Maisie, deep in frivolous conversation.
“They do at that,” he said.
Chris cast half an eye at his watch.
“Do you mind if I use your toilet?” he said.
“Certainly,” Mark said. “It’s down the hall on the right.”
“Thank you,” Chris said.
He went out into the hall. He turned and looked back at Maisie, who was smiling, her hair shining. It was a perfect family image framed in the doorway. Chris’s smile faded. He disappeared into the hall.
“It sounds like you and your father have had quite an adventure,” Janice said to Maisie.
“I’m not sure if adventure is the right word. ‘Experience’ might be better.”
“Better than us, at least,” Mark said. “We’ve just been cooped up in here the whole time.”
“I know what I’d prefer,” Maisie said.
Maisie felt a strange sensation in her stomach, twisting and writhing, like baby snakes were hatching inside her. The seat beside Mark still had an indentation from Chris’s buttocks.
“Excuse me,” she said.
She got up and walked out into the hall. She approached the bathroom.
“Chris?” she said. “Are you in there?”
She knocked on the door, causing it to wobble and drift open. It was unlocked. The snakes in her stomach grew to adult size, the sensation growing tighter. She pushed the door open.
The window was open. The wind poked at the lace curtains and made them flutter. The room was empty.
Z-MINUS: 0 HOURS 16 MINUTES
Chris leaned over the steering wheel and peered out through the winds
creen at the buildings along the road. They were three to four stories tall with flat roofs and small windows. Chris’s eyes alighted on one particular building. The first floor was home to the Norwich and Peterborough building society.
Chris pulled up in front of it. He got out of the car, put his hand on the Porsche’s roof and smiled. He tossed the keys onto the front seat. He turned and walked into the building’s foyer. He pushed the door leading to the stairs open and began to ascend.
He was out of breath by the time he got to the top. The roof was flat and wide, with a few plant pots dotted around. He stood in the middle of the space and looked out at the horizon.
The sun was low in the sky, turning the horizon blood red, and filtered through the scarlet range to orange and yellow, and finally blue to white on the opposite horizon. It was a sky that matched the one he’d seen fifteen years ago from the same spot.
Sharon had been wearing a mini-skirt that showed off her smooth thin legs, and a tube top that exposed her trim stomach. It was the late nineties and they were young. Her long hair spilled down past her shoulders the way he liked. She had a smooth complexion and big welcoming eyes.
He had brought her up onto the roof, and she clearly had expectations as she had visited the salon that morning and wore a new dress. They stood there a moment, looking at the beautiful view. She held his hand in her own and squeezed tight. He had never loved her more than he did at that very moment. He didn’t hesitate for a moment.
“Sharon,” he said. “I’ve got something to ask you.”
He got down on one knee. Sharon did her best to look surprised. She cupped her hands over her face and looked about ready to answer even before he said anything else.
“Will you do me the honour of being my wife?” he said.
“Yes!” she said, her voice a croak. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Chris wrapped his arms around her long legs and kissed her exposed knees. He got to his feet.
“I promise I will always be there to look after you,” he said. “I promise to always do right by you and take care of you.”
Chris wiped away a tear at the memory, the fifteen year gap giving no protection against the bittersweet flood of emotion in his chest. He took out the mini whiskey bottle from his inside pocket and unscrewed the top.
“Happy anniversary,” he said, toasting to the view.
He put the bottle to his lips. Then he paused, and looked at the tiny vial. He shook his head and upended it over the side of the building, and then let the glass container follow it down.
He stepped up onto the short wall that ran around the edge of the roof. He looked down at the street below. He could see the red roof of the Porsche. The height made him feel dizzy. He looked down at his hands, shaking like an earthquake was taking place inside his body. A dull thud pounded the inside of his skull.
The alarm on his watch bleeped. He checked the time:
Z-MINUS: 0 HOURS 0 MINUTES
He stepped up onto the short brick wall, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and held his foot over empty air, preparing to perform the last step he would ever take.
3:56PM
“I’m sure he’ll be back,” Janice said.
They were in the kitchen and she had just made a cup of hot chocolate for Maisie. The sweet chocolaty aroma filled her head. Tiny mushrooms floated on its surface.
“No,” Maisie said. “He won’t.”
Janice shared a look with Mark. She reached over and gripped Maisie’s fingers gently.
“If you like, you could stay with us,” she said. “We have the space, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”
Maisie looked up at her potential adoptive parents. Mark wrapped his arm around Janice and squeezed. Janice gave her a little smile, which Maisie reflected back.
“Thank you,” she said. “That would be great. But I don’t want to be a freeloader. I’ll do my share of the chores around the house.”
Janice and Mark stifled their smiles.
“We’d be grateful for the help,” Janice said.
There was a knock at the backdoor. A bloody smudged handprint trailed across the glass and left tiny road-like tracks across it. A face with cloudy white eyes and tortured expression opened its mouth and moaned.
“We have to kill it,” Maisie said.
“Kill it?” Mark said. “Of course we can’t kill it. It’s a human being.”
“It was a human being. It’s an empty shell now. If we let it stay here, it will attract more of them and soon there’ll be too many and they’ll get in.”
“How do you suggest we kill it without going outside?” Mark said.
“We go up to the first floor and drop heavy things until one lands on its head.”
Janice squeaked and turned pale. Mark spread his hands.
“We can’t kill another living creature,” Mark said. “It’s barbaric.”
“But they’re not living,” Maisie said. “Look at it!”
The female zombie’s hollow cheeks were cast into shadow with the dying sunlight over the horizon. One arm hung limp at its side, unmoving. It hung by just a few stretched tendons.
“We can’t kill it,” Mark said, dipping into the bag of chocolates in his pockets and popping one in his mouth.
“Then it’s going to kill us!” Maisie said.
“It won’t come to that. It’ll get bored and move on.”
“These things don’t get bored. They don’t get excited or unhappy. I’ve travelled a fair bit over the country, and I’ve seen these things everywhere. We have to deal with it now.”
But Maisie could see Mark and Janice had made up their minds. They were going to let their morals trump their survival instincts.
The zombie at the window turned and looked at another zombie as it stumbled through the hole in the fence. He pressed his face up against the glass, eyes bulging and glaring. The backdoor rattled each time the two zombies’ weight pressed against it. Maisie hopped down from the kitchen stool.
“They’re going to get in if we don’t do something,” she said.
A third and fourth zombie joined the first two. They pressed their weight against the backdoor and hit the pane with their ruined hands. The glass rattled.
“They can’t get through the glass,” Mark said, voice uncertain. “They can’t.”
“Believe me,” Maisie said, “they can. And they will.”
The first zombie brought her head back and smacked against the glass, more a reflex than an intended action. A small crack appeared where it had struck. She brought her head back again and threw it forward. The crack grew larger. The third strike produced a hole. Another zombie knocked her aside and pushed his fingers through the hole, the glass peeling the skin from his flesh. It pulled, and a piece of glass snapped and came away. More zombies reached in and pulled at the glass like it were a pick ‘n’ mix bag.
“You were saying?” Maisie said.
Janice and Mark backtracked.
“We have to get out of here,” Janice said. “They’re going to get in.”
“Where will we go?” Mark said.
“I don’t know,” Maisie said, watching the hole grow wider, “but we need to leave soon.”
They grabbed their backpacks and hastily shoved as much food in as they could from their shelves.
A zombie stuck his head in through the window and hissed at them. He was short and bald, with bushy black eyebrows. He was pushed forward by the other zombies. The doorframe began to splinter. More zombies filtered into the back garden now, and Maisie knew it wouldn’t be long before they breached.
“Let’s get out of here!” she said.
They ran to the front door and pulled it open. They skidded to a halt.
A zombie stood at their front gate. She wore a pink T-shirt and white knickers. Her back was to them. Mark pulled back, blocking the exit.
“Go!” Maisie said. “Just run around her!”
Mark hesitated, and then stepped out into the front garden. The zombie in
pink began to turn, and Mark pulled back again. Thankfully he was out of the way now, and Maisie moved in the zombie’s blind spot. Maisie put her hands on the short fence and threw herself over it.
Janice and Mark stood stock still as the zombie turned on them. Janice grabbed Mark’s arm, who held out his hands as if he could reason with the creature.
“Jump over the fence!” Maisie said. “Stop standing there like morons!”
A smash came from inside the house. Maisie couldn’t see past the zombie in pink, but no doubt the zombies had breached and were on their way inside the house. Mark and Janice would have zombies at their front and back. But Janice and Mark still hadn’t moved.
Maisie picked up a stick and hit the fence. The zombie in pink turned to investigate the sound.
“Get over the fence!” Maisie said. “Hurry!”
Janice snapped out of her fear first. She pulled on Mark’s arm, and he followed. They hopped over the fence, neither of them nimble. Maisie turned to the street to find the noise she’d made had attracted more than just the zombie in pink.
More zombies appeared from the houses along the street. They turned and headed toward them, tongues lolling from their blood-encrusted mouths and limbs hanging like spare parts.
Mark reached into his pocket and took out a handful of chocolates. He dropped a few, unwrapped those he still had in his hand, and stuffed them in his face.
“Now what do we do?” he said between thick mouthfuls.
Maisie marvelled at how she, an eight-year-old, had become the leader.
“First thing, we need to get away from here as far as we can,” she said. “This is your town. Where is somewhere safe we can hide for a while? Somewhere with lots of exits.”
Neither of them spoke. They were busy staring open-mouthed at the zombies. Maisie clapped her hands, startling them.
“Wake up!” she said. “Somewhere safe. Tell me now.”
“The school,” Janice said. “It’s big and there’s lots of exits.”
“Is it usually locked up tight?”
“Always, during closing times, like these days.”
“Good. Then we’ll head there. We’ll rest and figure out what we’ll do after we get there.”