Outbreak: The Zombie Apocalypse (UK Edition)

by Craig Jones

  26

  Beeping.

  Not loud, but not going away either.

  Wanting to sleep just a little longer.

  Head hurting.

  Louder.

  Mobile phone. Ringing. My mobile phone ringing.

  My mobile was on the bedside cabinet, screen flashing, ringing.

  I reached for it.

  I touched the green button and put the phone to my ear, glad just to have silenced the sound that was drilling a hole into my head.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Matt, mate, it’s Nick.’

  Who else?

  ‘Matt, can you hear me?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m here.’

  ‘Okay, cool. Look, I’ll pick you up at twelve, save you leaving your car in town overnight.’

  Oh man, I could do without this today. I had something to do. I’d forgotten I’d arranged to meet him, but then I’d planned it at a time when I thought the last place I’d want to be today was at home.

  ‘Is that okay for you?’ Then slightly more coldly, ‘You’re still planning on coming, aren’t you, mate?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just woke up. That’s fine. I’ll see you then. And Nick? Thanks.’

  ‘Not a worry. See you in an hour.’ And he hung up.

  I showered and dressed quickly into loose, light blue jeans and my Wales rugby shirt. I gathered yesterday’s filthy clothes into a bundle and headed down the stairs. Having dumped them into the washer, I popped on the kettle and opened the back door. It was a beautiful morning and the cat was back at the pond, batting the water with a black and white paw as if trying to entice a fish to the surface.

  I watched it play until the kettle boiled, and as I spooned coffee into a cup I heard a car pull across the gravel drive at the front of the house. I closed the back door and flicked the lock, then pulled the blinds down over the door and drew the curtains over the windows. I could hardly keep Nick waiting outside but I didn’t want him to see the new addition to the back garden, and I didn’t mean the cat. I set another coffee cup ready and made my way to the front door. Halfway there, Nick knocked and it was only then I realised how tense I had been as I jumped out of my skin. I opened the door, beckoned for him to follow me into the kitchen, where I lifted the kettle and poured the water into the cups, added milk from the fridge, stirred and passed him his drink without even a word.

  ‘You look like…’ his smile faltered briefly. ‘Oh, mate. Heavy night? I didn’t think you liked drinking.’

  I took a swig of coffee and nodded. ‘I don’t, but I’ll be okay for today. If you can’t pick it for a couple of beers with a mate, when can you?’

  ‘That’s what I want to hear. Hey, and thanks for opening the gate for me. That must have been a bit too much like hard work on a Saturday morning for you, mate.’

  ‘Uh? Oh, no worries.’

  I’d left the gate open? I hadn’t done that since, well, probably never. It wasn’t like me. Not that it was such a life or death issue anymore, but still not like me at all.

  We drank our coffee in silence.

  ‘You set?’ he finally asked.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ I put my cup into the sink, took my keys, wallet and mobile phone off the counter and slid them into my pockets.

  We headed out to his car, the same Citroen he and his family had pulled up in all that time ago.

  Nick hardly stopped talking all the way into town. The kids were doing great, holding their own at school and taking part in a variety of sports and activities. His parents were looking after them today, as they did often these days, but most importantly, the children didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t mentioned Jenny and I wasn’t going to ask. I don’t know how I would have reacted had he been the one to bring the subject up, but questioning him outright on the break-up of his marriage would have been insensitive.

  ‘So, how are things with you?’

  I looked out of the window. The sky was clear and blue, making the day look warmer than it felt.

  ‘Matt?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I replied, winding down the window. ‘I’m okay. Not really done much, but then, when do I?’

  ‘We need to get you out more, mate. Come over for dinner soon. The kids would love that.’

  ‘You know what? Next week, I might just do that. I got a couple of things to take care of and then I’ll be back to normal.’

  Nick left the car in the main car park in the centre of town and it was just after half past twelve when we entered the King’s Head. I laid a twenty pound note down on the bar as we sat on a couple of the tall stools, and Nick swigged down about half of his pint in one go. My first mouthful tasted disgusting but the second and third got better and we finished at about the same time. Nick signalled the barman same again and pulled out his wallet, opening it to reveal a photo of himself, Jenny and the kids. He saw me notice and shrugged.

  ‘Can’t let go, mate,’ he said as he passed some money over the bar. ‘But look, are you okay? If this is all too much…’

  ‘No, I’m fine. But what about you? I never ask, but seeing…’ I gestured towards his wallet. ‘I kind of forget, you know.’

  ‘Nah, well, I don’t exactly bring it up myself.’ He paused, took another long drink. ‘And today ain’t about all that anyway, is it? Let’s not drag ourselves down by bringing up the past, mate.’ He brought his glass to mine with a clink and smiled at me in a way that told me this conversation was over.

  Please.

  ‘Too right.’ I tapped my glass against his this time. Maybe he did realise how much the past hurt after all. But he could have no idea just how close my past was still.

  * * *

  I edged my way back from the bar, politely requesting a clear passage to our table, the two pints of lager in my hands spilling slightly as I was jostled. I placed them down on the table and wiped my hands on the back of my jeans.

  ‘Sorry,’ I told Nick. ‘Got talking to a couple of people.’

  ‘Well what do I expect?’ asked Nick, lifting his beer off the table and taking a huge mouthful. ‘If I’m going to have lunch with a local celebrity, what else is going to happen?’

  I shrugged, uncomfortable with the tag with which he had labelled me. The King’s Head had filled up quickly after we had arrived and we ended up eating our burgers and chips in the main bar. I was glad to eat; the drinking pace had, if anything, picked up and I was starting to feel less than ideal. I was also concerned that the more beer that went down my throat, the more the urge to confess everything to Nick rose to the surface of my mind.

  Would he understand what I had done?

  Well, he’d been with us through it all. That was one thing. But had he suffered the loss that I had? Okay, Jenny had left him and the kids afterwards, but that was down to their relationship. It wasn’t the same.

  I was drawn out of my thoughts when Steve, the landlord, approached our table. He extended his hand to me and shook it.

  ‘Good to see you, Matt,’ he said. ‘Could you boys do me a favour and sit through in the other room? I’ve got diners queued up out the door and I’ve put the football on in the function room for the residents, so dinner tables are at a premium.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, taking to my feet and picking up my pint glass.

  ‘Who’s playing?’ asked Nick, not moving.

  ‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Steve. ‘But I’ve opened the bar in there.’

  ‘Come one, Nick,’ I said, nodding my head towards the door.

  * * *

  ‘I know you,’ Tommo said, leaning forward with one elbow on the table, a thick index finger pointing my way. I heard Nick sigh. The bar was busy and we had been forced to share a table with three people neither of us knew. I was too drunk to remember all of their names but Tommo was huge and hard to forget. He also kept staring at me.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I replied with a smile.

  ‘I’m sure I do,’ he nodded, the seriousness dropping from his face. ‘It’ll come to me.’

/>   ‘I’m going to the toilet,’ said Nick, and he got up, knocking the table with his knees. Without apologising, he headed for the loo.

  ‘I’m going for some air,’ I said, my stomach starting to churn up the alcohol with the food.

  I walked down the narrow corridor to the front door of the pub. The rain that had held off all day was now falling in a light mist.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  I turned round to see Tommo in the doorway.

  ‘No worries.’

  He stood next to me, leaning back against the wall.

  ‘I knew I knew you,’ he nodded. ‘From what I recall, you went through Hell.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  It felt like he was angling to start a conversation about what happened in Usk during the epidemic and as I was about to divert the topic, he surprised me by taking the initiative.

  ‘I lost my wife.’ He paused, almost gave me a chance to say sorry, or one of the many platitudes I had received over the last year. ‘I was working in Saudi at the time. Me and Kevin, my mate inside, were over there. When I first heard ’bout what was going on, I thought Aberdeen was far enough north to be safe, you know, what with the flight coming into Heathrow and all? But someone jumped a connection and there it was. She died outright, so they told me. Didn’t. You know. Become like them. I’d tried to get home, but there was no chance.’

  He paused for the longest time.

  ‘And I gave myself a hard time. I’ll tell you that. Because I wasn’t there. But what could I have done? Would she still be alive? Maybe, but I doubt it. And I’d be gone, too. At least I am around to remember her, just like you are for who you lost, and for the rest of us.’

  He stopped and straightened himself up from the wall.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and I meant it.

  He nodded and walked back inside the pub. Maybe all the people who’d said how sorry they were to me had meant it. Had I been so wrapped up in all that had gone on and had continued to go on in my life to notice that other people did actually care? That the good things I had done and tried to achieve had made an impact upon people? That by shunning Nick I was actually…

  ‘It’s always about you, isn’t it?’

  I turned to see Nick in the doorway.

  ‘Matt, the hero. Matt, the martyr. You weren’t the only one who lost someone, you know.’

  ‘Nick, I…’

  ‘Everyone wants to talk to you. A quick word, a shake of the hand. Everyone remembers your story. It’s like I wasn’t even there. Well, I’ll tell you something, mate, I’ve had enough.’

  I didn’t know what to say as he walked towards me and shoved me in the chest with both hands. I stumbled backwards but kept my balance.

  ‘Nick! This isn’t you. Leave it.’

  ‘Shut it!’ he shouted.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

  ‘Wrong with me?’ he stepped towards me. ‘What’s wrong with you? After all that went on, and it’s like you exist in your own little bubble.’

  ‘Look, we’ve both had too much to drink and I know…’

  ‘You know nothing. Nothing.’

  He turned and started walking away. My head was spinning. The fresh air had actually made me feel more drunk, and on another day I would have let him go. I should have let him go. But I didn’t. I caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him around to face me.

  ‘Nick…’

  I didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. I was shoved on the ground with my jaw smarting. Nick stood over me, clasping his left fist with his right hand.

  ‘What’s today all about for you, mate? Go for a few beers to keep me sweet, mate? You have no idea what my life is like. You think Jenny left because of me? Is that what you think?’ He paused, tears now rolling off his cheeks and dropping to join the mounting rain hitting the ground. ‘She left because of you.’

  I was totally confused. ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, you. She hated seeing you. She hated me talking about you, talking to you. Because it reminded her of what happened. It reminded her that it was as much her idea as it was Danny’s to go get those people. And when she asked me to save our marriage, to cut you out of our lives, I said no. Because I owed you. For the kids’ lives.’

  His voice slowed down as he spoke the last two sentences. His arms dropped to his sides. He shook his head and turned, began walking away again. Then he paused and looked at me over his shoulder.

  “And you think my drinking’s gotten bad?” he barked. “Should’ve seen the impact Danny’s death had on Jenny. Except she drank at home. Around the kids. She couldn’t let them see her like that, so she left.”

  I watched, mouth agape, as tears rolled down his face.

  “And even after what I saw you and Danny do,” he continued. “Mate, what she did was the bravest thing.”

  ‘Nick, wait,’ I started to pick myself up off the ground. ‘Nick, I’m sorry. I’ve been… I…’

  ‘What Matt? What?’

  Should I tell him now? Should I explain my behaviour over the last twelve months? I couldn’t force the words out of my mouth, and all the noise I made was another pitiful whine.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re not, and I won’t bother you anymore. Good luck, mate.’

  I sat myself back down. I could have got up. I could have shouted to him. I could have chased after him. I could have let him take another swing at me. I could have told him the truth. But I didn’t.

  I gave Nick a good five minutes’ head start and then began walking in the same direction. The proper thing for me to do was to follow him and sort this out now. Apologise and mean it. Tell him the truth.

  If what he had said about Jenny leaving him was true, then he must have been building up to that like a pressure cooker on low heat. And the way I fobbed him off, not just the manner I had often taken with him, but the number of times I had just made up blatant lies and excuses not to have anything to do with him, none of that could have helped.

  I ran through how I could approach things with Nick. First up would be an apology. No doubt about that. Then to try to rebuild things? Is that what I wanted? Not really, and trying to solve this drunk was going to get me nowhere.

  All I knew for certain was that I couldn’t tell him the real reason for my behaviour. What kind of reaction would I get if I just blurted it all out? He would be… I don’t know. I had misjudged him once already today and look where that had gotten me. And, now, did it matter anymore? Was I just dealing with the guilt I was feeling for Nick or was I feeling it for Danny? My brain wasn’t able to deal with the questions pinging from one side of my head to the other.

  The evening was now night as the final daylight faded from the sky. The orange glow of the street lamps cast warped, fire-like reflections across the damp road. With no jacket to keep me warm, and having first checked that I still had my wallet, keys, and phone, I jammed my hands into my jeans pockets and started to walk up towards Bridge Street.

  I stood on the corner, looking left and right. Right would take me up towards Nick. Left was the way home, past the hairdressers’, over the bridge and the long march up the road. Talking to Nick tonight was out of the question. The rain intensified. Before I knew it, I was alone and halfway over the bridge. I paused and looked down into the River Usk. It chopped and swirled and was both deeper and faster-flowing than I had seen it in a long time. It was a thick, dark moving mass of water that looked to have several lives of its own as it divided around the bottoms of the arches that kept the bridge up.

  The evening had gotten so grim that I could hardly make out the shape of the railway bridge just a few hundred yards upstream. The back of my jeans got splashed as a car passed behind me, heading into Usk. I took that as my sign to press on and get myself home as quickly as possible.

  Everything seemed darker, and it was not just due to the clouds that blocked out every inch of sky; a huge part of the darkness came from inside me
and impinged upon the way I was seeing the rain-washed world. The downpour had made the greens of the grass richer, yet more sinister. The thought processes going through my drunken and angry mind were a paranoid knot of denial and confusion. Even as my brain played through the events of the last few days I could feel the water ooze between my toes as my shoes filled more with every step either into a puddle or onto the banking to avoid approaching vehicles.

  Had Jenny really felt that she held some responsibility for what had happened? Was it right that I had done what I had done, yet never told them? What if I had been able to share with Nick and Jenny how I had tried to right things? Would it have made any difference to their relationship?

  My rugby shirt clung to my back and at times I could barely make out the road ahead as the rain and growing wind buffeted me. A couple of times I was totally blinded by the headlights of cars coming towards Usk from Caerleon. On more than one occasion, a truck or lorry gave me a blast of its horn as it got nearer; double-checking that I was actually going to get out of the way.

  What right did she have, anyway? Guilt was my issue, Danny was my brother. Yeah, if she had issues with her marriage, she should deal with them. Don’t be looking for some scapegoat, someone you can shift the blame to.

  I was soaking wet before I had even reached the rugby club, but having walked past the garden centre and into the cover of the first proper roadside copse of trees I paused in the relative shelter for a few minutes.

  My jeans were filthy right up to the knees and as I plodded, now weaving in the road as the fresh air and the alcohol combined, I figured that if I was this dirty, I might as well get it done now. Just crack on and do it. Was I drunk enough that I wouldn’t remember it all in the morning? Probably not. But I was drunk enough that I wouldn’t remember all of it.

  As I passed the entrance to my neighbour’s house, to Des’s place, I realised that this was something I could do, something I should do. Put all this business to bed forever, tonight. Leave it all behind me. Get up tomorrow; suffer the hangover of both the drinking and the fallout with Nick. Sort things out with him. Have it all out. Tell him straight about a few things but, ‘ha-ha’, the irony, take it on the chin from him, too.