Life After Death

by Jenkins, Seb

“What if they don’t?” Joey asked to himself as well as Max.

  The mood flipped from jovial to sombre almost instantly as they both reflected on the possibility that this could be it for them. This could be their future.

  “Well there’s not a lot we can do really is there?” Max asked, breaking the silence.

  “Take down as many of the fuckers as we can I guess,” Joey laughed.

  “And survive,” Max said, thinking of John.

  “Every life is worth saving man,” Joey added.

  “I’ll drink to that mate,” Max smiled, clinking his bottle against Joeys.

  Within ten minutes, they were both fast asleep on the sofas. The two friends; the two brothers.

  Chapter Twelve

  Max’s eyes opened wearily, burning from the bright light seeping in through the living room window. He rubbed the crust from his eyes and rolled off the sofa with a thump, empty bottles of beer tumbling after him and clinking on the floor. The music still blared from the jukebox in the corner, as Max supposed it had all night during his drunken sleep. He stumbled over and switched it off, waking Joey up as he did so.

  “Shit my head is killing me,” Joey whispered, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

  “Tell me about it,” Max agreed, reclaiming his seat on the sofa, and cracking the window open for some much needed fresh air.

  “Has that music been on all night?” Joey asked with a hint of worry.

  “Yep,” Max responded bluntly, massaging his weary head.

  “You don’t think it attracted any clickers do you?” Joey questioned, looking around as if there could be a group lurking behind him.

  “Well if it did, I think we’d know about it. Wasn’t our smartest move though,” Max laughed.

  “Right. Coffee?” he added, hauling himself to his feet and itching his leg.

  “Yeah sure, thanks,” Joey replied, as Max walked towards the kitchen.

  “Actually Max, come sit down for a minute!” he called after him.

  Max did as he was told, only too happy to sink back into the padded luxury of the leather sofa.

  “What’s up?” he questioned.

  “Remember last night, we were talking about how there was nothing we can do about the situation we’re in and we have to let it play out; maybe hope someone else comes up with a cure or something…” Joey started, pausing to ensure Max was with him.

  “Yeahhh…” Max responded, wondering where Joey was going with this.

  “Well, why should we do that?” Joey said

  Max was unsure of what to reply so just let his friend carry on.

  “Why should we let other people do the work and hope it sorts itself out?” he continued.

  Again, Max felt that Joey had more to say and so nodded along to show that his attention was with him.

  “We’re both very good fighters man. I say we go out there, out on the road, and we look for people. There must be other survivors out there; why shouldn’t we be the ones to bring everyone together, maybe get some kind of community going again?” Joey asked seriously.

  Max finally understood what Joey was getting at, and it actually made a lot of sense. Relaxing in the house and scavenging had been a nice break from the madness out there for a while, but it seemed a waste to sit back and let the world turn to rubble.

  “You know what, I think you’re right man! What if there are people out there who could fix all this shit? What if they need our help, to protect them or fight or whatever?” Max agreed, excited by this sudden proposition.

  “And even if we don’t find anyone, let’s take down as many of those fuckers as we can on the way!” Joey shouted, jumping to his feet in sarcastic exuberance.

  “I’m in!” Max cried back.

  “Up the revolution!” Joey yelled, jumping up onto the living room table and throwing his hand into a salute.

  The two friends shared in a laugh of two, before walking together towards the kitchen, discussing their travel plans as they went.

  “I think if we aim to…” Joey began to lay out.

  Tap…tap…tap

  “Did you hear that?” Max interrupted.

  “Hear what?” Joey whispered, straining his ear towards the direction Max was looking in.

  Tap…tap…tap

  They both snapped their heads to the side and stared at each other with collective fear.

  “Is that coming from…the basement?” Joey asked, nervousness oozing from his voice.

  Max nodded and signalled with his hand with a sharp motion to indicate ‘this way, follow me’.

  Joey understood and nodded back, following closely behind Max and gripping the handle of his pocketed knife tightly.

  Max crept down the stairs, treading as lightly as he could in order to follow the mysterious noise. A slightly muffled tapping continued.

  “You don’t think there’s a clicker down here, do you?” Joey hissed from behind.

  “I’d say be ready for it,” Max replied, also in hushed tones.

  It suddenly occurred to Max that he had no weapons on him, as his bag and rifle were stored in the armoury in the basement itself. At the bottom of the stairs his made another hand gesture, guiding Joey to the boiler room before taking the armoury doorway himself.

  He felt for the switch on the wall and flicked it apprehensively, but all the light illuminated was the normal array of weaponry. As his eyes scanned the room more thoroughly for any sign of disturbance, Joey called out from behind him.

  “Max! In here mate!” Joey yelled, with an indication of amusement in his voice.

  Max walked out towards the boiler room which was still in pitch black as the blinds were pulled shut, probably to shield the light during one of their epic table tennis matches.

  “It’s only the bloody tap!” Joey shouted in between slightly relieved laughter.

  “It’s just the tap dripping against the stone floor!” he explained as Max heard him fiddling to tighten the source of the problem.

  Max began to chuckle lightly, as did Joey; escalating until both men were engaging in bellowing laughs which bounced around the basement. Although they both acted brave, they were secretly more comforted by the fact that nothing had infiltrated their home.

  “There! That’s got it!” Joey yelled from within the darkness of the room somewhere.

  “Erm…Joey,” Max whimpered nervously.

  “What?” Joey retorted.

  “The noise… it’s still there!” Max breathed, franticly patting his hand up and down the wall to find the switch.

  “It wasn’t the tap!” he added in a louder, more urgent tone.

  As Max found the switch, the light flickered on in short bursts, as it often did when it was warming up.

  All Max could do was stand and watch, as the muffled tapping noise turned into an unmistakable clicking.

  The rotten door next to Joey splintered and burst open, smashing down onto the floor in pieces.

  All Max could see in a split second was a crash of a door.

  A series of clicks.

  A scream.

  The light switched on fully, as Max recoiled at the sight before him.

  The clicking sound had grown louder and louder, now echoing around the drums of his ears. Joey was on the ground, a clicker hanging off his shoulder, blood covering the ground. A disgusting, disturbing squelching noise rang around the room as the clicker sank its teeth further into the flesh on Max’s friend.

  “Joey!” Max screamed, to no reply from Joey who’s eyes were fixed with horror on his attacker, but his body frozen stiff with fear as more clickers approached.

  The horde was now piling through the open doorway, half fighting over the fallen Joey and half pouring towards Max. He had no idea how many there were; it was impossible to tell as an endless stream still swarmed into the boiler room. Joey’s haunting screams could only just be heard over the top of the pile of clickers that now surrounded him, feasting on his flesh.

  The screams fell silent
.

  Max could do nothing for his friend, although it tore him apart inside, he turned to flee the clickers who had now set their sights on him.

  “I’m sorry Joey!” he screamed hoarsely towards his best friend; although he feared there was no chance he was still alive.

  There was nothing Max could do.

  Still without a weapon, he sprinted into the armoury room and snatched up his pack and rifle before spinning round to escape back up the staircase; but he was too late. The group of clickers had followed him swiftly and were now blocking the stairs, tripping over each other in an attempt to reach Max first.

  All a now desperate Max could do was back up into the room and prepare to fight his way out. Raising the rifle up quickly, ignoring the scope at such short range, Max began to fire at the heads of the advancing army. Bodies dropped to the floor in numbers and the metal pellets sank through the yellow rotting flesh and into the brain of the clickers. Max advanced slowly as he rained more pellets down onto the swarm, attempting to clear a path towards the stairs.

  A clicker approached from Max’s left, meaning that he had to pause in order to powerfully butt the undead with the end of his rifle. Joey had advised him to duct tape a knife to the end of the rifle for a situation just like this, which worked a treat as the blade punctured through the eye of his assailant.

  Max snapped the rifle back, careful not to cut himself as he tucked it back under his arm. Max continued to fire, continued to advance as best he could, now treading and clambering over the sea of fallen bodies surrounding him. He pushed the muzzle into the mouth of a female clicker ahead of him before firing off a burst of shots through her head and into the clickers behind her, using the undead woman as some kind of shield. The final squeeze of the trigger was met only with a quiet puff, as he fired again and again his rifle whimpered out into silence. The air canister was empty; Max swore and tossed aside the useless weapon, instead retrieving two long knives from his pack.

  He slashed his way through the doorway, mouth-wateringly close to the bottom of the stairs. His knives plunged into skulls and faces, over and over again, blood spurting in all directions and drenching Max from head to foot. One last clicker bared down on him from the edge of the stairway, as Max arched the blades through the air simultaneously, slicing them into opposite sides of its neck until the two blades clanged together and the head rolled off onto the floor.

  Max clambered onto the stairs, slipping on the thick, gloopy blood as he did so, wiping the worst of it from his eyes. Reaching the landing, Max didn’t hesitate in unlocking the huge metal door and heaving it open, pausing only to snatch up Joey’s machete which lay on the table next to the door.

  Max ran.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Max sprinted down the street, stumbling, unable to put one foot in front of the other. His eyes were wide and his breathing heavy, still in intense shock from what he had seen; from what he had done. The blood of at least 20 dead men and women soaked through his clothes and dripped down his face. He could taste it in his mouth, and could see it drying behind his nails. There was no escaping the blood.

  Max tripped and fell, scraping his knees and adding yet more blood to the collection he was carrying with him. He hadn’t picked a direction with any strategy; he just knew that he had to get away from that place. It was no longer safe, and there was no longer any reason to stay. Joey was gone. He felt like he had been transported back in time to that dreadful day when he lost his brother John. Now he had lost another brother.

  Max was angry; he was angry at the world, he was angry at Joey but most of all, he was angry at himself. Why did he lack this core ability to look after the ones he cares for? He should never have let Joey search the room on his own; they should have taken them one by one, together. It was too late for thoughts like that now. Max was once again alone.

  He thought back to the recent plans he made with his friend, to travel the country and seek out other survivors. To find some way of finding a cure and to ensure that it happened no matter what the cost. A beautiful dream a mere hour ago now hardly seemed worth it. It wasn’t something Max could do on his own; where would he even start? And why would people listen to him for a second?

  Max had grown tired. He didn’t know how long he had been running for; but it was now more like a scramble as his weary legs refused to go any further. The rain had begun to lash down around him, chilling him to the bones, but helping to wash away the blood and hopefully the memories with it.

  A large wooded area on his right looked to provide some decent shelter and would give Max some time to find his bearings. He had no idea where he was or really where he was going. He trekked through the dry woods and took comfort in the tranquillity of it all. Animal tracks covered the floor; it was nice knowing that some forms of life had remained untouched.

  No matter how beautiful it was, Max couldn’t escape the reality that he had been plunged back into isolation once more. After he lost John, he felt so alone, but somehow getting so close to Joey, just to lose him too felt much worse. The shock of loneliness was hard to prepare for.

  He had always told himself that he needed answers; a reason as to why John had been torn from this world. He had those answers; he knew so much more about the disease and this knowledge only gave him more of a reason to get out on his own terms.

  A thin stream trickled in front of Max, the water running across shining grey rock. He followed the progress of the water; it seemed as good a direction as any. The stream widened out as he followed and before long fed into a river; calm and still. Max walked along it, running his fingers in the water, looking at the fish glide around; it was peaceful. This was the place he had been searching for, he thought in his mind. Walking along further until he came across a stone bridge crossing the river, he sat on the cold brick and swung his legs over to hang down towards the water.

  He sat and took the sight in for a moment, before rummaging through his pack and retrieving the one item he honestly never thought he would need again: his gun. He fiddled with it and ran it through his hands, as he always did beforehand.

  The wind whistled through the trees around him and the rain tickled the top of his head. He flicked off the safety and span the chamber before clicking it shut. The water trickled beneath him, bubbles rising to the top and popping without a sound. He raised the gun behind his head and pressed it hard against his scalp. The sound of birds tweeting and whistling filled the air. He shuffled forwards to ensure that he would fall into the stream and not back onto the bridge. The leaves rustled. He rested his finger on the trigger. The water flowed. He shut his eyes. The world stopped.

  “I’m sorry John, I tried,” he whispered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A piercing scream erupted in his ear drums. Max’s eyes snapped open, his finger trembling over the trigger. He had been a split second from letting fate decide whether he would live another day; although recently it felt more like enduring than living.

  The screaming had ceased again; the quiet, chirpy wildlife took over once more. Maybe he had just imagined it, Max thought. Ghosts from his past screaming in his head, his subconscious screaming at him not to pull that trigger; something like that. But then there it was again. Max craned his neck, pointing his ear towards its source.

  “HELP!!!!” the voice screamed.

  “PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP ME!” it continued.

  Max was close to shutting his eyes and continuing along his own dark path, but the scream unmistakably belonged to a young girl. Even on his potential deathbed Max didn’t have it in him to let an innocent girl die; at least his last act could be a good one.

  He climbed down off the side of the bridge, tucking the gun back into his bag as he did so and sprinting towards the source of the noise. He ran back through the trees, swatting branches out of the way as he refused to break his speed. Twigs whipped him in the face and roots sent him into stumbles, but Max ran on, determined to reach her before it was too late. He burst out of a c
learing of trees onto a road.

  He didn’t recognise the street, so it can’t have been anywhere near his and Joey’s old house. Even the thought of Joey caused Max to pause for a split second. The screams however pulled him back to reality immediately.

  “HELP!!”

  “CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?”

  The young girl was stood on top of a red lorry, surrounded by abandoned vehicles; but also surrounded by undead. The clicking noise was overwhelming, engulfing Max immediately. He didn’t think he had ever seen so many gathered in one place before; and on top of that, there were more arriving by the second.

  The girl’s screaming really didn’t help matters but he couldn’t blame the child for being scared, he would be lying if he said he wouldn’t do the exact same thing. Max jogged towards the trapped girl, careful not to make any noise with his approaching footsteps. He wanted to save her, but it would do neither of them any good if he was mauled before he even reached the lorry.

  She was young; couldn’t have been older than sixteen. She wore light blue jeans with a grey hoodie, and a cap covered her head with a short ponytail poking out the gap at the back. Her hair was a dark brown but streaked with highlights which ran down the full length of the ponytail.

  She was a small girl; skinny too, but she somehow looked confident and tough. A large scratch ran down her left cheek, from her deep brown eye to the corner of her mouth. Her small nose and red cheeks made her look even younger than she probably was, her eyes brimming with fear. There was no way Max could leave her now.

  The girl spotted Max out the corner of her eye and beamed from cheek to cheek.

  “OH THANK YOU! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!” she screamed.

  Max shot her a piercing look, snapping his finger over his lips and miming be quiet to the girl who immediately obeyed. Max leaped onto a nearby car and ran along the roof, bonnet, and across to the next car. The sound of warping metal had begun to attract the nearest of clickers, but Max was moving quickly and they weren’t the fastest lot to react.