Ghostland_A Zombie apocalypse Novel

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Ghostland_A Zombie apocalypse Novel Page 13

by Shaun Whittington


  Seconds after his groan, Simon Washington was seen coming out of the woods on the right, thirty yards up ahead. Dicko flashed the car’s lights at him and the man on foot stopped. He stared for a few seconds, and then ran towards the car that was heading his way. Dicko stopped and Simon entered the passenger side without saying a word.

  Dicko moved away and took quick disapproving glances at his shamefaced passenger as he went through the gears. Dicko decided to drive back to the farm in silence, waiting for Simon to speak.

  He had been in the car for two minutes and Simon finally spoke, “I’m really sorry for what happened,” he said. “I panicked.”

  “No shit,” the driver mumbled.

  “I’m a coward. What can I say?”

  “You left me there to die, Simon.”

  Simon flashed the driver a quick look and said with a frown, “Now you’re being melodramatic.”

  “Oh really?” Dicko slammed on the brakes and pulled the parking brake up. He turned to Simon with a vicious glare, making his passenger jump, and said, “You need to grow some fucking balls, and pretty soon. Those four pricks weren’t there to give us a spanking, they were going to kill us.”

  “Wait a minute. I have a daughter to think about. If I die...”

  “You still need to grow a pair, daughter or no daughter. In fact, you’ll need to grow some for the sake of her. If you two ever end up on your own again ... I’ll never know how the fuck you’ve lasted this long.”

  Simon snapped, “Don’t forget who gave you a roof over your head.”

  “And don’t forget who saved your life. As for the roof over my head … you honestly think I couldn’t take that place for myself if I really wanted to, if I was a real heartless bastard?”

  Simon screwed his eyes at Dicko and could feel his blood boil. “What are you saying? You would have hurt me and my little girl to get that house for yourself?”

  Dicko sighed and sat back in his seat, his head resting on the head restraint. “Let’s just go back, before we say anything else that we’ll regret.”

  He moved away and was driving for a matter of seconds, and then both men could now see the axe bearer from the visitor centre step out of the woods from almost twenty yards away. The man began yelling into the woods that he had spotted the car. It was obvious that he was speaking to his three friends who hadn’t appeared yet, and he had been the first of the four to have stepped out from the condensed woodland.

  “Hold on,” Dicko said to his passenger.

  By the time Dicko had reached forty in fourth gear, he was near the axe bearer. He turned the steering wheel slightly to the right, aiming for the individual, and saw the other three step out seconds before he made impact. The Mazda struck the man and a huge clatter was made as the individual hit the bonnet of the car and went over the roof. Dicko never stopped the vehicle and took a quick peep in his rear view mirror and could see the man lying in the middle of the road.

  “Holy fuck!” Simon gasped and looked around, staring out of the rear window. “Do you think he’s dead?”

  “More than likely.” Dicko nodded.

  “Well, I don’t think we should be going back to that area again. Especially with the other three hanging around.”

  “Doesn’t matter where we go. There will always be the possibility of danger. We were lucky with the homestore. Even the supermarket had been claimed. There is one good thing to come out of all of this,” Dicko said.

  “Yeah? And what’s that, mate?”

  “The only travelling we need to do for a while is to the pond and back. We have those bottles from the supermarket, so we can get them filled once we’ve drunk them. No more buckets.”

  Simon nodded. “And if Yoler gets this allotment up and running at the back of the house, things will be looking up. But the winter …”

  “Don’t worry about the winter.” Dicko slowed the vehicle and took a sharp bend to the left. “A few more minutes and we’re nearly home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Yoler had spent an hour digging a plot. It was small, but she was going to extend it day by day. The first seeds that she was going to plant were the potatoes. She told Imelda that this time of the year was almost perfect for planting potatoes. They planted the King Edward seeds in loamy soil and had put pre-planting potato feed in first and forked the soil. They had many others to plant, but the digging process and the planting of the potatoes alone had taken up most of the morning.

  Yoler could hear the sound of an engine. She looked up and could see the two men returning from their trip to the woods.

  *

  Hours had passed, and Imelda had decided to have an early night. She helped as best as she could, helping the three adults to empty the car. It was a great feeling for everyone. The cupboards in the kitchen were full of sodas, tins and chocolate bars, the potato seeds had been planted and there was going to be more to follow.

  Yoler sat down in the armchair, opposite Simon, and Dicko was in the kitchen, filtering the last of the water from the yellow bucket. With the sodas available, all agreed that they were in no rush to take another trip to the pond. Tomorrow they were going to play it by ear.

  “So...” Yoler said and revealed a smile. There were signs of some decay in some of her front teeth that Simon hadn’t noticed before, but that was understandable considering the world they were living in now. Thankfully, toothbrushes and toothpaste were something else that they had taken from the supermarket. Despite the decay, Yoler was still a beautiful woman.

  “So?” Simon scrunched his eyes in confusion. “What is it?”

  “Now that Imelda is in bed,” Yoler began and spoke loud enough that Dicko could also hear her. “Are you two gonna tell me what happened when you went out?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Simon shrugged his shoulders. Even though Yoler didn’t know Simon well, she could tell he was lying.

  “Come on, Simes,” Yoler snickered. “You and Dicky Boy have hardly spoken to one another since you’ve got back. You two haven’t had a Brokeback Mountain episode while you were out in those woods, have you?”

  “No,” Simon sighed.

  “And those dents on that car weren’t there before.”

  “Oh, you saw them?”

  “Yep.”

  Simon puffed out a breath and clocked Yoler gazing at him with those wonderful large dark eyes of hers, waiting for the truth to spill out of the man’s mouth. Simon decided to tell the truth.

  Dicko remained in the kitchen as Simon informed Yoler what had happened. He told her about the four individuals turning up, his cowardice, and that he had left Dicko in a precarious position. He flushed as he told her how he had run and was eventually picked up by Dicko. And he informed the twenty-six-year-old female that one of the gang was purposely run down on the way back to the farm.

  “Dead?” Yoler asked.

  “Possibly.” Simon nodded. “It was a hell of a hit.”

  “Fuckity fuck.”

  “I know.”

  “Jesus Christ on a cross.” She shook her head and sighed, “What was Dicky Boy thinking?”

  Simon shrugged his shoulders.

  “Let’s hope to piss they don’t find this place.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Simon rubbed his eyes. It was time for a nap before doing a few hours guarding during the night. Dicko was going to do most of it.

  Yoler remarked, “You look tired.”

  Simon smiled. “I was gonna try and get an hour before doing my stint.”

  “Good idea.”

  Simon rose to his feet and held his hand up at Yoler. Dicko emerged from the kitchen and stepped into the living room.

  “Simon!” Dicko called out.

  Simon stopped and turned around.

  “No hard feelings.” Dicko held out his hand. “Let’s wipe the slate clean and start again tomorrow.”

  Simon looked relieved, produced a thin smile, and shook his hand. “I’m sorry I let you down. It won’t ha
ppen again.”

  “Forget it.”

  Simon lowered his head and turned on his heels. He went though the living room door and slowly made his way to the first floor. He opened his room and could see that Imelda was fast asleep, still dressed in her day clothes. It was still light outside and he could see her face perfectly. He lay next to her and kissed her on the head. He sniffed her hair and decided that he would take her down to the pond and get her washed the next day, despite deciding earlier that he wasn’t going to bother.

  His daughter smelt a bit stale.

  He kissed her again and then sat up to take his boots off. He sat at the side of the bed and kicked them off, then noticed an A4 piece of paper sitting to his right on the side table.

  Simon picked up the piece of paper and his heart sank when his eyes clocked the drawing. It was the same drawing that Imelda had been working on before Simon and Dicko had left.

  The drawing was in pencil. In the middle of the picture, at the bottom, Imelda had drawn a car. On the left side of his car were six bodies, standing up with their arms out. Simon guessed correctly that these were Canavars, and on the other side of the car was a man and a girl, Simon and Imelda. Tyler and Diana had been also drawn, but Imelda had placed them at the top of the paper, in the clouds, in heaven.

  The picture had been worked on and the little girl had added extra details, compared to when Simon had seen the picture for the first time. Where Imelda had drawn Diana and Tyler in the clouds, she had added four more individuals and Simon guessed that she had put her grandparents there, Simon and Diana’s parents. There was no evidence that his or Diana’s parents had died, but he was convinced they were gone. What filled his eyes was the speech bubble she gave Tyler who was in the clouds with his mummy and grandparents. In the speech bubble Imelda had written: “Daddy, don’t leave me!” which were Tyler’s last words before those dead bastards took him down.

  In the picture, Tyler was saying those words when he was in the clouds, when he was dead. But in reality, he screamed those words to Simon when he was still alive, before he experienced the first bite, but Simon was hardly going to tell his daughter that the picture wasn’t a correct account of what really happened. She was only eight years old, for Christ’s sake!

  My poor baby girl.

  Simon lay down next to his daughter once again and put his arm around her. She was snoring gently and her red lips were pouted.

  He had a short cry to himself, and then he nodded off for half an hour.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Next Day

  Yoler and Simon were up early, sitting in the living room. Imelda was still in bed and Dicko was now sleeping in one of the rooms after doing most of the guarding during the night.

  Yoler was sitting in the middle of the couch and Simon was opposite her, lounging in the armchair. She could see he was crestfallen and had every sympathy for the man, especially that he had another soul to look after as well as his own.

  “You okay, Simes?” Yoler asked. “You look like somebody has jizzed in your Corn Flakes.”

  “I’m okay.” Simon took in a deep breath and groaned, “Just sick of shitting in a bucket.”

  “At least we managed to get all that toilet and kitchen roll from the supermarket,” said Yoler.

  Simon never responded and Yoler smiled and rose to her feet. “I’m gonna take a look outside.”

  She went into the kitchen and unbolted the door. She stepped outside. It was cloudy but dry, and the temperature was reasonable enough not to need a coat.

  She began to inspect her handy work from yesterday, and quickly turned around, noticing Simon was now exiting the house to take in some fresh air.

  Simon scratched his dark hair and could see that Yoler had filled some buckets with soil as well as creating a large square patch for other products due to be planted.

  “You’ve done well,” said Simon, smiling at the woman.

  “Thanks.”

  “You really busted your arse over this, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve had some help, Simes.”

  Simon rubbed his stomach and could feel a little pain where his colon was situated. He was constipated earlier and it had been the first time he had evacuated any faeces in days. He put it down to lack of hydration as well as eating, and stuck by his decision to take another trip to the pond. They had plenty of fluids now, but Imelda needed a wash, but it wasn’t something he wanted to do with just the two of them. Not after what happened before.

  “When you’ve done all that,” Simon said to Yoler, “do you fancy a walk to the pond? I need to get Imelda washed.”

  “Sure.” She nodded.

  “If you want a rest, I’ll understand.”

  “No, it’s fine. I could do with a change of scenery.”

  Simon smiled and was about to say something further, but Yoler had beaten him to it.

  “I was thinking about our sanitation issue earlier, Simes,” she began.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I was thinking about another method, now that toilets don’t really work.”

  “Like pit latrines?”

  “No.” Yoler shook her head. “Pit latrine is a good idea, but they have some serious drawbacks, the first being that they stink.”

  “Then what?”

  “A composting toilet.”

  “What’s that?”

  Simon looked up and waited for an answer off of Yoler, but he was staring out, down to where the trees were, where the pond was behind.

  “What’s up?” Simon stood next to her. “Did you see something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Simon looked up to the sky to see that, despite the murky clouds, the sun was desperately trying to shine from behind them. “Maybe it’s just the glare.”

  “Maybe.” Yoler nodded. She then turned around when Imelda stepped out. She had clearly just woken up and went over to Simon and wrapped her arms around her daddy’s waist.

  “You okay, babe?”

  “I woke up,” she moaned, “and you weren’t there.”

  Simon rubbed her back and felt her arms tightening around his waist.

  “Listen,” Simon began. “Me and Yoler are going to the pond for a wash, and you’re coming as well.”

  Yoler said, “Why don’t we kill two birds with one stone and get some water as well? You can never have enough.”

  “I don’t want to kill any birds, Yoler,” said Imelda.

  “Relax,” Simon chucked. “It’s just a saying.”

  “I’ll go and get the soap,” Yoler spoke up and added, “I could do with a bit of a clean myself. I’m beginning to smell like a fish market down in the nether regions, know what I mean?”

  *

  Dicko was now awake. Yoler had woken him up before she left the farm with Simon and his daughter.

  The walk to the pond was a pleasurable experience for Simon Washington. The day was still murky, but at least it was dry and humid, and he closed his eyes and moaned every time the wind gently stroked his face. Alongside him was Yoler, singing Dear Prudence, and to his other side was little Imelda. Most of the walk had been made in silence, with the exception of Imelda singing a Katie Perry tune every now and again.

  Yoler was carrying a bag with six empty bottles that were going to be filled. Simon told her that they had more than enough fluids for the time being, but Yoler insisted. She also had a bar of soap and a towel stuffed inside and insisted on carrying it before they left. The bag was light, but the empty-handed Simon still felt guilty.

  “We need go through those trees and the pond should be there,” Imelda said to Yoler.

  Yoler smiled, and didn’t have the heart to tell the eight-year-old that she knew where the pond was. She had been there before.

  The three of them walked through the trees, but Yoler’s steps were more careful than the father and the daughter’s.

  “Why are you taking your time?” Simon turned around and could see that the female was a few
yards behind Imelda and himself. Yoler was walking on her tiptoes through the long grass, like she was barefoot and trying to avoid broken glass.

  Yoler never answered Simon’s query, so he asked her the same question, hoping that the second time round he’d get an answer.

  “Doesn’t it worry you that there could be spring coil animal traps in here?” Yoler said, still staring at the ground and stepping ever so carefully. “There could be traps that have been here for months, left by poachers, before the shit hit the fan.”

  Yoler could see Imelda looking at Simon, knowing that the little girl was shocked to hear the shit word.

  Noticing this, Yoler apologised and said, “When I said … shit hit the fan … I meant when the dead arrived.”

  “Me and daddy call it Stage One,” said Imelda.

  “Oh.”

  Simon continued to walk, but was more careful where he put his feet after Yoler’s announcement. Did Yoler have a point? Dicko was a survivor and never mentioned the threat of traps as such.

  Once they were out of the trees, they made the short walk to the pond. All three stopped by the water’s edge and gazed at the water.

  “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Yoler dropped the bag on the ground and placed her hands on her hips, looking around the area. Trees surrounded the water and the pond itself was like a large mirror.

  “I suppose.” Simon hunched his shoulders. “Never really thought about it, to be perfectly honest with you.”

  Yoler bent over and began to take the empty bottles out of the bags. She threw Simon a bar of soap and a towel, and Simon and Imelda walked ten yards around the pond and began to take their shoes and socks off. They held hands and walked into the pond. Once the water was up to their ankles, Simon told Imelda to stop walking and took her top off and his as well.

  “We’ll just wash our top half today,” he told his daughter. “We can come back down here tomorrow.”

  “The water’s cold,” Imelda moaned and began to shiver.

  “It’ll just be for a few minutes.” Simon pointed by the water’s edge where the towel sat. “And then we’ll dry off straight away.”

 

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