All three were out and made the short walk to the entrance of the place. They all stopped and peered inside. The place looked like it had been ransacked more than once, blood was smeared on the floor. All three winced when their noses sensed the horrendous smell. They were unsure if the smell was from rotten fruit, meat, death ... or a mixture of all three. Simon and Dicko looked at one another, both unsure what to do.
“Let me go in first,” Dicko said, and pulled out his trench knife from the leather holster. “Me and Trevor will sort this out.”
Simon shook his head at Dicko because he had given his knife a nickname, and Imelda gasped on seeing the blade and was given a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder by her daddy.
Dicko treaded carefully, making sure his boots didn’t step in any blood or accidentally kick one of the few scattered tins on the floor, and began to walk along the checkouts and look down the aisles for any danger. Simon and Imelda waited patiently and watched as Dicko walked past over twenty aisles. They continued to watch as he turned on his heels and slowly headed back towards them, gazing down the aisles for a second time.
“It seems to be clear,” Dicko announced when he reached father and daughter. “There’s a bit of a mess in some of the aisles, but surprisingly there’s still food.”
For twenty minutes, Simon and Dicko filled a trolley each with tins, bottled water and sodas, as well as items of clothing from the upstairs. The rickety trolleys were pushed to the Mazda and at first Simon wasn’t sure they’d be able to get it all in.
“There’s a bit of room left,” Dicko said and clocked that there was a small gap inbetween the driver’s seat and the passenger seat. “I think we could get a few more bottles of juice in there, easy.”
“Can’t we just go,” Imelda moaned. “I’m tired.”
“Me and Dicko will go in,” Simon suggested. “You stay in the car. Stay down.”
To Simon’s surprise, Imelda said okay and sat in the passenger seat. Dicko shut the door and locked it, then both men headed back to the entrance of the supermarket. Dicko took a basket and told Simon to do the same. The men knew where they were going. They had already been to the soda and water section, and headed for the ninth aisle in silence.
They both stopped at the aisle where they needed to be and Dicko gave Simon a little nudge. “I bet there’s more stuff in there.” He pointed over at a door that led to a warehouse at the back of the establishment. “I bet they have pallets of drink and food in the back.”
“We only have the Mazda with us,” Simon said nervously, desperate to get out of the place and go back to the farm. “Let’s just take what we’ve come for and get the fuck out of this place.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear,” Dicko laughed softly.
Simon smiled and began to lighten up. “That’s because Imelda is usually with me.”
Dicko grabbed more bottles of water and slipped them into the basket. Simon took water and some cordial juice for Imelda.
“You enjoying yourself there, guys?” a voice called out from behind them.
Simon and Dicko turned and could see a man dressed in dark clothing and wearing a Burberry cap. His face was covered with a ginger beard, matching his hair, and had a menacing grin. Despite it being two on one, in Simon and Dicko’s favour, the ginger guy looked confident.
“There’s plenty to share,” said Simon.
“Is that right?” said the ginger male. His six-foot frame straightened up and now folded his arms, slowly losing his smile.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Dicko placed down the basket and added, “Do you have a problem with that, ginge?”
“Look,” Simon grabbed Dicko’s shoulder, “We don’t need to be so hostile.”
Dicko hunched his shoulders. “I’m not the one being hostile.”
Ginger began to laugh and shook his head. “Why don’t you two turn around and head out, and I’ll even let you have the stuff that you took earlier.”
Dicko and Simon slowly turned and glared at one another.
Dicko turned to Ginger and said, “You ... You’ve been watching us?”
Ginger grinned. “You were spotted when you left the premises. To be honest, you should have been spotted earlier than that. I had to leave my watch, because when you need a shite...”
“Charming.”
“I can’t believe you came back for...” Ginger looked down at the two baskets of water and juice, “...a few bottles of liquid.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon said, “But we’re desperate. You see, I have a daughter, and—”
“Spare me the sob story,” Ginger growled.
“So ... is this your place?” Simon asked.
“This is Orson’s place.”
“Who’s Orson?”
Ginger never answered Simon.
“I think I know what’s going on here,” Dicko spoke up and pointed at Ginger. “Fanta Pants here is a guard of some kind, and he answers to this arsehole ... Orson ... whatever the fuck the name is.”
Simon scratched his head and turned to Dicko. “I don’t understand.”
“These guys have a base somewhere. This supermarket is being guarded. What happens is that every day food is transported from this place and to where they’re based. This continues until the supermarket is cleaned out, then Orson’s men go elsewhere, maybe find another supermarket, and do the same.”
Ginger began to clap his hands and said with derision, “You got some bits right.”
“Look, mate,” Simon began, and could feel his arms shaking with fear, “we had no idea that this place belonged to someone.”
Ginger said, “What you’ve taken is nothing compared to what we have in the back. No one will notice. Just you guys be on your way. I’ll have a word with Nathan. Make sure he keeps his mouth shut.” Ginger pulled out a walkie-talkie and began to converse with Nathan.
Simon scratched his head and muttered, “Who’s Nathan?”
Ginger turned, walked away from the two men and added, “Just make sure you don’t come back here again. That’s the only warning you’re gonna get. You see, if Orson found out that I had disappeared during a watch, as well as allowing strangers to steal some of our food, my guts would be ripped from my belly.”
“Why are you doing this?” Simon asked.
Ginger turned around, smiled, and said, “I had a daughter … once.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just go.”
Simon and Dicko, baffled by the bizarre experience with the big ginger fellow, bent over and picked up their full baskets. They walked away, heading for the exit, still confused about the meeting. And who the fuck was Nathan?
The wind wasted no time and tickled the men’s faces as soon as they stepped out. Dicko looked up, over at their vehicle, and placed his free hand on Simon’s chest before he had chance to look up. Simon turned and faced Dicko, asking him what was wrong.
“Don’t freak out,” Dicko said with clenched teeth. “Don’t run. Play it fucking cool, okay?”
Simon didn’t know what Dicko was talking about until he turned and glared over at the Mazda.
A man was standing by the car and mockingly waved at the two men. Simon wanted to desperately run over there and see if his little girl was okay, but he adhered to Dicko’s words, although it was a struggle.
Dicko smiled at the Nathan character as they both approached, “Thanks for looking after the car,” Dicko derided, making the Nathan character lose his smile. “There’re some bad people about.”
“You have no idea,” Nathan growled.
“Oh, I think you’ll find that I do.”
Both men glared at one another, each one refusing to back down. Ignoring the two, Simon knocked on the passenger window and waved at his frightened and confused girl. He gave her the thumbs up and this seemed to have settled her a little. Dicko opened the door and shoved past Nathan to get into the driver’s side. Simon jumped into the back passenger seat, next to his daughter, and they both
hugged.
“I was worried,” she said.
Simon smiled. “Nothing to worry about.”
Dicko started the engine, took off the parking brake and pulled away. Nathan sarcastically waved at Dicko, who returned the gesture with his middle finger.
“You should ignore him,” Simon scolded. “What if some of Orson’s men come to the farm?”
“Why would they?” Dicko responded. “These thugs seemed to be monopolising the supermarkets. Anyway, I’ve met worse than these lot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dicko sighed.
Simon said, “I’m surprised the stores weren’t raided during the Canavar period.”
“Me too.”
“Daddy?” Imelda interrupted the men’s brief chat.
“What is it, babe?”
“Who’s Orson?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Simon sighed.
Simon was relieved to be on his way back to the farm after the frightening episode. Dicko looked unruffled by the previous incident and Simon put it down to experience of being out there, surviving, and having to do things that Simon hadn’t asked about yet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know about the things Dicko had done to survive, to still be here.
Simon placed his hand on his daughter’s lap. She placed her silky hands on top of Simon’s and both gazed out of the window, their eyes clocking the empty streets. He hated doing this, taking Imelda into unknown territory, but his pride wouldn’t allow Dicko to do all the work whilst he sat on his arse.
Simon suddenly snapped out of his gazing once the vehicle began to slow down. Dicko had slowed to ten, then put the vehicle in second and turned and went down the drive of the farm that went by the house, pulling up near the back.
“Daddy, I’m tired,” Imelda said.
Dicko turned to face Simon and said, “That’s okay.” He then winked at Imelda. “You get this little cutey to bed for an hour and I’ll start moving the stuff. I think I’ll give the second trip a miss.”
“Okay.” Simon smiled. “I won’t be long.”
“Don’t rush.”
Simon opened the back door and stepped inside with Imelda holding his hand.
“Didn’t you lock it, daddy?” she asked him.
“I couldn’t, babe. There’re no keys. We can only lock it when we’re inside, with the bolts. That’s how we managed to get in here in the first place.”
“Oh.”
They crept upstairs and Imelda began to yawn. Simon rubbed the side of her arm and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.
He told her, “As soon as you wake up, you’ll feel great.”
Simon put his hand on the doorknob and opened the door.
Imelda gasped and placed her hand over her mouth, “Daddy, what’s going on?”
Simon gulped and shook his head. He had no idea.
There was somebody lying on their bed. It was a woman.
Chapter Eighteen
Simon and Imelda continued to glare at the body on the bed and both stood still, frozen with alarm, and unsure what to do. The female groaned and turned on her back. Simon could see she was mid-twenties. She had a slim build and her hair was dark and quite short for a woman, and styled like one of The Beatles in the early sixties. Her trousers were green combats and she was wearing a brown T-shirt. Her black coat was lying on the floor.
Her eyes opened, making Simon and Imelda gasp, and the young female sat up with a start. She gazed at the father and daughter strangely and rubbed her eyes.
“Okay,” she said, ruffling her hair with her right hand. “So this is a bit awkward.”
Simon never said anything; he just continued to glare, lost for words.
“I saw a rucksack when I first came in,” the female stranger began, looking at Simon. “Is that yours?”
Simon nodded.
She swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood to her feet. “Was this place originally yours, or...?”
“We came here a few days ago,” said Simon, staring at her slim frame and her perked breasts.
“Ah,” she giggled. “It speaks.”
“I’m Simon.”
The female smiled and nodded, “I’m Yoler.” She bent down, placed her hands on her knees and smiled at Imelda. “And you, beautiful. What’s your name?”
Imelda had become shy all of a sudden and shrugged her shoulders.
“You don’t know?” Yoler said and teased lightly. “You’ve forgotten your own name? Now that’s a little strange, don’t you think?”
“No,” Imelda giggled and already decided that she liked this person.
“Is your name ... Ariel, like The Little Mermaid?”
Imelda smiled and shook her head. “Nope.”
Yoler scratched her dark hair and asked, sticking her tongue into the inside of her cheek, “Is it Rapunzel?”
“No,” Imelda giggled, shaking her head. “That’s from Tangled.”
“What about Belle, like the girl in Beauty and the Beast.”
“Not even close,” Simon spoke up. “Her name’s Imelda.”
Yoler looked at Simon’s morose face and cackled, “And you must be King Grumpyguts, by the look on your face.”
Simon sighed, “I already told you that my name’s Simon.”
“Oh yeah.” Yoler rubbed her face. “I’m still half asleep.” She turned and bent over to pick a bag up. She threw it over her shoulder and thanked Simon for the use of the bed, even though he had no say in the matter, and she told them both that she’d be on her way. She took one step forwards to the door, but one word from Simon Washington made the young woman stop in her tracks.
“Wait,” Simon said softly.
“What is it?” Yoler asked.
“Have a drink with us downstairs before you go. What do you say?”
Yoler looked moved by Simon’s gesture and said, “Thanks. That’s very kind. But can I ask one question?”
Simon nodded. “Sure.”
“How have you managed to survive for so long?”
Simon was unsure about her question, and the look on his face confirmed that. He said, “I don’t understand.”
“There are survivors out there butchering one another for food and shelter. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And you’re offering me a drink? Your act of kindness is a rare thing these days.”
“It’s the right thing to do, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Doing the right thing might get you killed one day, Simes.”
Simon was becoming a little annoyed with the uninvited guest. He knew she was right, and he knew he had to toughen up, but he wanted to hold on to the Simon Washington of old, despite what had happened. He didn’t want to change.
He huffed, “You wanna drink or not?”
“Alright, alright,” Yoler giggled. “What’s up with you, King Grumpguts? You look like someone has stabbed your cat.”
Simon shook his head and walked away. He began the descent to the ground floor and realised that Imelda wasn’t by his side. He stopped moving and turned around. He was about to yell at Imelda to get a move on, but she was already close behind him, holding onto Yoler’s hand, the two girls walking downstairs together.
He entered the living room and saw Dicko sitting in the armchair. “I’ve only just sat down,” said the man. “All the supplies are put away, cupboards are full...”
He stopped talking when Yoler entered the room, holding Imelda’s hand.
“What the...?”
“I found her sleeping in one of the bedrooms,” Simon began to explain. “Her name’s Yoler. And she—”
“Alright, Simes,” she cackled. “I can speak for myself, you know.”
“I was about to say that she’s got a bit of a mouth on her.”
“Charming,” she said. “Anyway, where’s this drink you promised me?”
Dicko stood up and it was clear he was instantly attracted to the young female. “We have some water left, but we’ve just come back with sodas and—”
“We’re just back from a supply run,” Simon said. “Could have turned nasty, but we got lucky.”
Yoler smiled. “Bumped into a few ... undesirables, shall we say?”
“You could say that.” Dicko went into the kitchen and returned with a small plastic bottle of coca cola. He passed it to Yoler and her face lit up, thanking the man for the generous offer.
“Probably not the best drink for hydration,” she said, “but it’s been a while since I’ve had a coke.”
She unscrewed the bottle and began to swallow the substance down.
“So, where’re you headed after here?” Dicko questioned her, but never got an answer straight away. She was still downing the bottle of coke. As soon as she was finished, she twisted her face and rubbed her chest, releasing a loud and long belch, making Imelda giggle.
“That was the absolute tits,” she said with a smile, then turned to Imelda and apologised for her choice of words.
She turned to Dicko and said, finally answering his question, “I have no idea where I’m gonna go. I was thinking of staying here for a while, if you fine gentlemen would let me. I could be very useful.”
“There’s enough in here as it is,” Simon spoke with zero hesitation, deflating Imelda and Dicko who had quickly taken to the woman.
Dicko gazed over at Simon and said, “Can I have a word?”
“Sure.” Simon nodded.
“Upstairs.”
“Erm...” Simon looked at Imelda, then Yoler, and was reluctant to leave the girls alone.
“Oh, seriously,” Yoler snapped and pointed at Imelda. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna happen to her.”
Dicko left the living room and Simon followed him upstairs to the landing. Simon turned around and before he had a chance to speak, Dicko had already begun.
“I like her,” Dicko announced. “I think we should keep her here.”
“I don’t know.” Simon placed his hand over his mouth and pondered. “I’ve only been here a few days and we could already have four people living here. When’s it going to stop?”
“I did save your life,” Dicko said with a cheeky smirk. “Let her stay, and if she fucks up, it’s on my head. Imelda seems to like her as well.”
Ghostland_A Zombie apocalypse Novel Page 9