Life After Death

by Jenkins, Seb

  Max carefully unclicked the latch and lifted the case open, revealing the slightly disturbing collection of knives within. Max had never seen so many together, and he was sure Joey didn’t have a use for every single one. However, he had to admit, Joey was prepared; and Max suddenly felt even happier with his new home. This would do nicely. Sat next to the display case on the stone table was a modern tennis racket.

  “What do you use this for?” Max questioned, studying the unlikely weapon.

  “I play tennis with it, you tit,” Joey said with a screwed up face, snatching back the racket.

  Max shrugged off the embarrassment and threw his arms in the air.

  “I have to say Joey, I’m impressed. This is insane! Where did you get all this shit?” Max asked enthusiastically.

  “Just stuff I’ve picked up over the last few weeks, other stuff I made myself,” Joey said coolly, playing it off.

  Max walked back out the doorway and pointed towards the room opposite. Joey barely looked up, still admiring his own weapons room.

  “What’s through there?” Max asked.

  “Oh, that? It’s just an old boiler room. Has an extra way out though if we ever need it,” Joey clarified.

  “Anyway, let me show you to your room my good man,” Joey yelled, back in character.

  Max sighed, following him up the stairs. He had to admit though, he was starting to like this guy.

  The first floor was made up of only a few rooms; three bedrooms and a bathroom. Joey showed Max into the first door to the left. Max was taken aback immediately; the room was breath-taking.

  The enormous window shone natural light across the entire expanse of the room, enlightening the grand four post bed. Next to the bed stood an equally magnificent wardrobe, engraved with various patterns and swirls. Across the floor lay a soft, red rug, expensive-looking and soft to the touch.

  “Wow, this is amazing Joey,” Max exclaimed, turning to thank his new friend.

  “Pfft. This? Nah, this is my room mate, yours is down the hall,” Joey chuckled, leading on towards the next room.

  Max’s bedroom was very similar, barring the single bed and smaller glass window, but he couldn’t complain. Just seeing a pillow and duvet alone filled him with anticipation; a good night’s sleep was definitely a long time coming. He plopped his bag and rifle down by the base of the bed and stepped back out the door to look around further.

  He stuck his head around the third bedroom; extremely different to the previous two. The wallpaper was a baby blue, with a darker blue carpet covered in cuddly toys. In the middle sat a plain white cot.

  “Whose is this room Joey?” Max asked.

  Joey shiftily clapped his hands together, “Anyway, it’s been a long day, time for a bit of shut-eye don’t you think? See you in the morning mate” he blurted out.

  Joey had entered his room and shut the door before Max could even think to reply. He felt bad for asking such an insensitive question, now wondering what had happened to the child who had clearly lived in this house.

  Max thought about knocking to see if Joey was okay, but he couldn’t pretend that the two men were anything near close; not yet anyway. They had just met after all. It was a question for a different time, Max thought. He entered his own room, shut the door quietly and threw himself back onto the soft sheets. Before he knew it he was fast asleep and dreaming.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun beat down upon Max’s face as sweat soaked his dark hair. It was a hot summer’s day in England; something that was extremely rare this year. Max was outside his childhood home, playing ball with his 10 year old brother and two children from across the street. His brother was only a few years younger than himself, and they got on well. Max was only 12 but he had always been protective over the younger sibling. He loved him.

  The four young boys were playing their own invented game; a vibrant cross between baseball and football. A young John stepped up to the crease, brushing his floppy hair out of his eyes and readying himself for the oncoming pitch. As the ball approached he swung the newly engraved bat with as much force as his skinny arms could muster, barely connecting with the ball at all.

  “Nice try John! That was so close bro!” Max shouted towards his brother.

  He tried to encourage him whenever he could. He was younger than the other three boys and found it hard to keep up sometimes. Luckily Max was big for his age so they more often than not won the games; he liked to pretend that John was their star player though.

  John grinned under the shower of praise from his older brother, who he idolised, stepping up to the mark for another try. The ball came in fast again and John repeated his swing, this time missing the ball completely and spinning full circle before falling to the ground.

  The ten year old grazed his knee and tears welled up in his eyes as the two other boys doubled over, laughing at him. Max immediately jogged over and crouched down next to his brother.

  “C’mon Johnny, up you get,” he said, extending a helping hand.

  A sharp white flash blinded Max and as his vision came back, John was still on the ground, but had aged years. He was a grown man now, on the floor of Max’s apartment, bleeding.

  “C’mon get up John!” Max shouted to his dying brother.

  Max didn’t want to relive this moment of his life but could only sit back and watch as he witnessed his brother slipping away from him all over again. The look of idolisation was wiped from Johns face; replaced with a clear look of pity. John hadn’t looked up to Max in years, there was nothing about his life to admire. He had failed his brother. He was meant to be the one who looked after him, but where had he been for the last few years? Selfishly sinking into his own depression whilst John went about his life none the wiser. Where was Max when John had to kill his own wife? Hell, he had even been here when the clicker had attacked John and he was still no use. As John’s eyes shut slowly, it was Max who was truly dying inside.

  A blinding white flash again filled Max’s eyes, and when his sight returned, it was him lying on the floor. He was surrounded by pitch blackness, blinking to find some kind of sight through the dark. As he pushed himself up with his hands, a figure leaped through the black and pinned him down.

  Max was unable to move, the sound of clicking drilling through his skull. He tried to push the man off but he seemed to be infinitely stronger. Max looked up at the attackers face and let out a gut wrenching scream, as his brothers rotten face with lifeless red eyes stared back at him. It cut through his heart like a knife. He had done this. He had let this happen to that little kid with floppy hair.

  “John I’m sorry,” Max whispered through the tears to his brother.

  “I’m sorry,” he said louder.

  “I’m sorry John!” he bawled through the sobs, as Johns teeth opened and clamped down on Max’s face.

  Max jolted upright, petrified, covered in sweat and screamed at the top of his voice… “JOHN!”

  Chapter Nine

  Joey burst anxiously through the bedroom door, knife in hand, but relaxed slightly when he saw only his sweat drenched friend in bed.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Joey asked worriedly.

  Max hunched over, breathing deeply and clutching his chest to feel the rapid beating of his heart.

  “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Thanks,” Max replied, out of breath and distracted by the disturbing images of his brother.

  “I know I wanted you to make yourself at home, but you didn’t have to wet the bed,” Joey smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “It’s sweat okay!” Max snapped

  “Sorry,” he apologised immediately, “bad dream.”

  “You gunna tell me who John is?” Joey asked gently, perching himself on the end of Max’s bed.

  “Depends; are you’re going to tell me whose the other bedroom is?” Max replied instantly.

  “Touché,” Joey laughed.

  “Maybe a conversation for another time,” he added.

  “Yeah,
I think that’s best. I need to take a shower. Desperately,” Max admitted, easing his aching body out of bed.

  “Okay mate, I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast, then it’s time to go hunting,” Joey retorted, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Hunting?” Max scoffed.

  “Well, more like scavenging I suppose; but hunting sounds way cooler,” Joey sniggered.

  Max smiled and nodded before heading to the bathroom. Both men were clearly hiding deep secrets about their past, but neither were too keen to pry any further. Getting the truth from Joey meant also sharing his own story; something that Max wasn’t ready to do.

  After a much needed wash, Max joined Joey in the kitchen, met by the mouth-watering smell of bacon and sausage. His stomach rumbled, crying out for a decent meal. He had ignored his appetite for the past week; he’d had other things to worry about.

  “Wow,” Max exclaimed simply.

  “Yeah I froze a load of fresh meat when all this shit went down, figured I’d need enough food for a while,” Joey explained.

  “You really love this whole survivalist thing don’t you?” Max chuckled, met by a smirk from Joey.

  “Grubs up,” Joey yelled, piling a mountain of bacon, sausage and baked beans onto Max’s plate.

  “A good hearty meal for a growing lad,” Joey joked, grabbing Max’s cheek like you would to a small child.

  Max laughed; Joey was certainly a character and it was refreshing to be able to laugh at life again. In truth, even before the apocalypse, Max hadn’t really laughed in months; being locked away in that dungeon of an apartment had really sucked the life out of him. Spending time with Joey and joking around reminded him of growing up with John; a memory he intended to hang on to.

  “Helloooo? Anybody in there?” Joey called sarcastically, waving his hand in front of Max’s eyes.

  “Sorry mate, I was miles away,” Max laughed quietly, finally tucking into his gigantic breakfast.

  “Eat up Maxie boy, you’re gunna need your strength today,” Joey suggested.

  Max was only too happy to oblige, scoffing down the entire plateful before sitting back in his chair and letting out a sigh of relief.

  “I definitely needed that,” he said.

  “Well don’t fall asleep on me there grandma, get your knickers on and get ready to go; we got hunting to do,” Joey cried, running off down into his basement full of tricks.

  Max could only chuckle to himself as he marched himself upstairs to fetch his equipment. “Crazy fucker,” he grinned. He emptied his backpack of food and clothes, storing it in the various drawers around his new room. If they were in fact scavenging, he figured he’d need some spare space to store whatever they found. He packed only his bat and a couple of knives before slinging the bag over his shoulder and picking up his rifle.

  He eventually found Joey kitting up in the basement, packing throwing knives and attaching his machete to that thick brown belt. Still attached to the belt were the other various blunt instruments and knives.

  “You got enough there?” Max joked.

  “Never know what might go down my friend,” Joey replied with an excited smile. The guy really loved all this, Max thought.

  Joey’s eyes flicked towards Max’s rifle as he hopped to his feet and walked towards it, hands outstretched.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask about this little baby. Is it a hunting rifle or…?” Joey asked probingly.

  “I wish. It’s just an air rifle, probably won’t do much good to be honest, sorry to disappoint,” Max explained.

  “I don’t know man, with the rotting flesh and all, it might do more damage than you think. Worth taking with us anyway,” Joey recommended.

  “Anyway, off we go,” Joey said enthusiastically, springing back up the stairs towards the front door.

  After locking the metal barricade door behind them, and then shutting the original wooden front door, Max and Joey stepped out into the morning light.

  “I think it’s best to stay on foot this morning, let you get to know the area,” Joey said.

  “Okay, sounds good, lead on,” Max agreed, not knowing what to really expect.

  Max followed close to Joey for about half an hour, remaining vigilant and keeping his eyes peeled the entire time. He knew first-hand how quickly things could go wrong for you out on the streets. Joey wanted to explore further than he usually did, seeing as he had scavenged most of the houses near his; plus, it felt safer to have someone else watching your back. They arrived at a small cul-de-sac, with five expensive looking houses; two on either side of the road and one at the far end.

  “I’ve been meaning to search these places for a while, but they’re so big I think it’s a two man job,” Joey clarified.

  “Sounds good to me,” Max said, honestly just needing a break from running.

  Joey led the way round the back of the first house after the two decided it would be both easier and quieter to find a way in through the back door. The last thing they wanted to do was attract any kind of attention. After breaking the lock on the back door and checking no one was still living here; and most importantly no one was dead either; they began to search for any useful items.

  Whilst the owners of the house were clearly wealthy and had many items which may tempt a burglar, nothing stood out as being useful in the world they currently lived in. They stocked up on tinned food from the kitchen, and moved on to the next house. This disappointing pattern continued, as they searched through the next three houses one by one, collecting nothing more than food scraps along the way.

  Joey had explained on the run over that more often than not, food was all that he found. Unlike places like America, Britain simply didn’t have an abundance of weapons and firearms in circulation; items which would prove to be lifesaving nowadays. Max could read the frustration painted across Joey’s face. Their trip had lacked the excitement and thrill that he seemed to thrive off of. The two men decided half-heartedly to search the final house at the end of the cul-de-sac before heading home and trying again in the morning. Max wasn’t too disheartened; if anything these scavenging trips were invaluable just as an excuse to get out the house and fill the days. There wasn’t much in modern entertainment or an abundance of human company anymore.

  “You search downstairs, I’ll go up,” Joey said with a yawn for the fifth time today.

  Max nodded and began his routine search of the base of the house. He began in the kitchen, figuring that it would be the only useful place to search anyway. He added a few more tins to his bag which was now nearly full, before making his way around the other rooms. Just like the four houses previously, this one offered up little in the way of weapons.

  Max found a few bandages and medicine in one of the bathrooms, and was zipping them into a side pocket of his bag when he heard a shout from Joey.

  “Max! Come quickly!” Joey yelled down the stairs urgently.

  Max snapped into action withdrawing his bat with his right hand and wielding a savage-looking knife in his left. He left his bag on the ground and leaped up the stairs to his friend’s aid.

  “Joey?” Max shouted, hearing only silence when he ran out onto the first floor landing.

  “In here,” Joey said with a sense of excitement.

  Max poked his head around a door to his right, seeing Joey with his face pressed against a window looking out the front of the house.

  “I think it’s time to test that rifle of yours my friend,” Joey grinned, taking it from Max’s shoulder.

  “May I?” he asked

  “Be my guest,” Max said uneasily.

  Max wasn’t a fan of drawing unnecessary attention to themselves, but Joey needed a pick me up; plus, Max was kind of intrigued to see how much damage the gun could actually do. Joey opened the window, took the gun from its zipped case and rested it against the frame, getting a feel for the weight and the scope.

  Max now realised why he had been so keen; towards the end of the road a lone clicker stood almost still. Wi
th the undead not moving and the shot not being that far away, Max was genuinely excited to see if the weapon could actually come in handy. Joey took a few deep breaths and squeezed his finger over the trigger, making a few last minute adjustments to his aim. After a few seconds of preparation, he pulled his finger down tight over the trigger, letting out a sharp popping noise which echoed down the street. The clicker remained still.

  “Shit! Gimme a second, gimme a second,” whispered Joey, clearly worried that Max may be keen to have a go of his own.

  However Max was happy for the younger man to take the lead on this one; he was clearly enjoying himself.

  Joey let off a few more near misses, as the pops resonated around the small and silent street. It wasn’t until the sixth shot that he finally made a direct hit. The clicker shuffled around, turning side on to Joey, which gave him a clear shot to the side of the head. He squeezed the trigger once more, and watched as the pellet carved through the air before embedding itself in the soft, rotting flesh of the clicker’s temple.

  A hit to such a sensitive part of the head proved to be effective, as the man’s head snapped back, a thin spray of blood spurted from the wound, and the clicker thumped to the ground.

  “Did you see that? Did you fucking see that shot!?” Joey screamed in celebration, spinning around with his arms in the air and looking for Max’s approval.

  Max couldn’t help but laugh at him, slapping his hand as he extended it for a high five; but their celebrations were short lived. Joey’s voice had carried across the street, reverberating around for all to hear, and coupled with the repeated popping noises from the rifle, this had attracted some unwanted company.

  A group of ten or so clickers appeared from around a corner at the far end of the street. They were trapped in the cul-de-sac with no way out apart from the way they came.

  “Ah shite. I’m gunna say my bad on this one mate,” Joey admitted.