by Remy Porter
‘You act so whiter than white, don’t you Johnny. Where is your good wife these days anyway? We never did work that one out. People we’re talking, even before the dead came along. Where did she get to, Johnny?’
‘She left Jack, as people are wont to do from time to time,’ I looked away, caught out, angry. ‘None of your damn business.’
‘Anyway, we didn’t all come here to talk over the mysteries of your life, Johnny. Save that one for another time. We want Toby Hanson out here in the next five minutes. I don’t give a shit about any coma. Just drag whatever is left of that fucker out here, or we’ll be going in to get him. And son, that won’t be pretty for you or that sweetheart playmate Summer you got in there,’ Jack said.
Muscles twitched. I really wanted to cave his face in there and then, starting with that monstrosity of a nose.
‘Wait here,’ I said at last.
Back inside, my heart was sinking through the floor. Upstairs I faced my friends.
‘What was that all about?’ Summer said.
‘You’re going to have to trust me ... a lot!’
A short time later Lester and I were staggering down the stairs with Toby. His eyes flickered, but I don’t think he knew what was happening. We zipped a yellow fluorescent police coat over his dirty pyjamas to keep him warm. Toby’s pale, gaunt face made him look deader than some of the zombies I’d seen on the streets.
‘Is this what you want?’ I said to Jack. ‘He is all those two boys have left.’
‘Take him,’ he said to Bob and Griffin.
They dragged Toby over to behind the green farmer’s Land Rover. Griffin was hunched over working on something, and then I realised what it was.
‘Time to go home,’ Jack said smiling.
I felt sick and tried to push Summer and Lester back inside. They were rooted to the spot, like concrete. The Land Rover started with its throaty roar. The other vehicles rumbled away, Griffin and Jack the last to move. There was a dragging sound like sandpaper on rough wood. I saw Toby’s body being pulled behind the Land Rover by frayed ropes around his neck and shoulders. His body bounced and the jacket shredded on the grey asphalt. Just as the Land Rover rounded the corner I thought I saw Toby’s eyes pop open. A silent scream.
‘What do we tell the boys?’ Summer said to me. Then I heard the crying. They had seen everything.
CHAPTER 27
‘So you’ve decided,’ I said, pacing our room.
‘We forget the schedule, and we get the hell out of here as soon as possible,’ Summer replied. ‘We’ve got extra people now, that’s all.’
‘The boat will be big enough sure. But are you sure we want to put those kids through more trauma, Summer?’
‘We just have to. We stay, we die. It’s that simple. Jack and Griffin might have had their blood thirsty fill today, but then there’s tomorrow and the day after. I don’t want to see you getting dragged behind that Land Rover one day, Johnny.’
‘What about these kids?’
‘We play the hand we’re dealt, Johnny.’
I grabbed my keys. Summer threw coats on Phillip and Mark. They were a pair of ghosts, brains locked down. Orphans now.
‘We need your help,’ I said crouching to their level. ‘We want to sail a boat away from here. Far away from those farmers who hurt your dad. And the zombies ...’
‘What the policeman means is we want to take you someplace safe,’ Summer finished. ‘We all need your help though. Are you okay with that?’
When Phillip and Mark both nodded, she gave them a hug each, maternal instinct kicking in.
‘Where’s Lester got too?’ I asked.
‘Down at his lab. You know Lester, always working on something kooky or other,’ Summer said.
I wandered through the station and down to the cells. There was mild relief to know he couldn’t possibly have another undead subject on his slab, or I’d have known about it. Pushing open the heavy steel cell door, I stepped into Lester’s improvised laboratory. The smoky candelabra gave added murk and shadow to the assorted jars, test tubes and cutting implements Lester had collected. The man himself had his head down, one eye peering intently into his secondary school pilfered microscope.
‘Lester,’ I said. ‘We are going to prep and load the boat. Summer thinks we need to step the schedule up. We’re looking to go on the high tide tomorrow. Are you okay with that Lester ... Lester? Did you hear anything I just said?’
‘I’m on to something here. That swab you gave me. It’s a real puzzler, a real conundrum.’ Lester said, flicking pages on the textbook next to him. I knew there was no talking to the man in full-blown research mode.
‘You got dedication, Lester. We’ll talk later, okay?’ I said, but he wasn’t listening.
Out back I helped cram the last food boxes into the back of the police 4x4. We’d emptied our store cupboard at the station of every tin and packet we had. It wasn’t much for five people to live on, but I was sure they’d be more where we were going. I didn’t want to risk going back to the shops. Part of me knew Griffin would have already made sure that the aisles would have been stripped bare. Knowing him, he would have probably left a few zombies in there to surprise us. I didn’t want to take any more chances.
The drive through the caravan park was quick, but nervy. I half expected to see whatever remained of Bill and Arthur stumbling out in front of us, but the place stayed desolate and empty. The 4x4 sliced through the tangled break in the foliage and out onto the shingle beach. Driving as close to the boat as I dared without risking getting stuck in the sands I parked. The boat WABBA was still there in one piece, held fast by the buoy that had stopped it floating away. The keel was shallow, and I felt sure that we’d be able to sail out in the high tide the next day.
‘That’s the boat, boys,’ I said, hoping for at least a smile. Summer gave them each something light to carry from the back of the 4x4.
‘Give them time,’ Summer said to me as we walked across the sands.
Jumping aboard, Summer started to find room below for the boxes.
‘How’s it looking?’ I shouted up.
‘Like a god-damn miracle is how,’ she said. ‘You sure you and Lester can sail this thing?’
‘Like a dream. Don’t you worry about that. My old dad loved his boats, taught me everything he knew.’
The boys finally caught up, and handed up the bits and pieces they had carried over.
‘Come on, let’s go and get some more,’ I said looking at their pale faces. When they didn’t move I marched back to the 4x4 alone. I didn’t want this to take all day. Throwing a heavy rucksack over my shoulder, I grappled with a box over-flowing with food tins.
‘Where are they?’ Summer said when as I arrived panting at the boat. And then we saw them, two pinprick figures right out on the sands.
‘Jesus, Summer, come on.’
Summer and I ran across the sands. Twenty metres out towards the distant tide line and already the sand was starting to take on the consistency of rice pudding. Shallow seawater puddles squelched and bubbled under our feet, and thin channels of water crisscrossed ahead of us like arterial veins. The boys must have been running as well, trying to cross a bay that drowned, on average, a person a year. Usually it wasn’t the quicksand that killed, it was the tide that swept over them while their legs were wrapped in a concrete embrace.
‘Johnny look out!’ Summer shouted. Too busy looking ahead, I missed what was right under my nose.
Two bodies buried up to their necks. Skin had been peeled from their skulls, the sand and seawater having stripped layers down. Noses, nothing but serrated, fractured bone. Then one opened its mouth, followed by the other. Both still alive like guppies with dagger teeth. I stopped and looked around. There were dozens of similar mounds on the open expanse. Weak zombies trapped and buried by the sands, still looking to bite and tear at anything that passed.
‘Phillip! Mark!’ I shouted again. ‘Come on, the tide will be coming in.’
&
nbsp; We ran again, but the boys were so quick. They ran all the way to the tide line. Looking behind me I saw a half mile of flatbed sands stretching back to the shingle beach. The 4x4 looked like a toy car in the distance. We jumped over a small gulley and sprinted the last hundred metres to catch the boys.
‘Don’t come any closer,’ Mark said. ‘One of those heads caught my leg.’
His calf muscle had an ugly gash across it, bleeding and smeared in wet sand.
‘We need to get you cleaned up,’ Summer said, edging nearer. Already Mark’s face had taken on that familiar tinge, the bloodless look. He coughed and there was bloody bile on his lips.
‘We need to get the both of you back to the beach,’ I pleaded. The tide was creeping in, starting to lap around our ankles. The black water scared me. Who knew what it hid?
‘Come on, we are running out of time,’ I said stepping forward. Phillip had a knife out, waving it towards my chest. The blade nicked my arm. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘You killed everyone, my mum, my dad. They’re all dead because of you. You keep away from me and my brother or I’ll be killing you.’
‘Put the knife down Phillip, your brother is sick. He’s going to be a zombie, you know that don’t you?’ I said. ‘We need to leave. You know how fast this tide will come in once it’s started?’
‘We don’t leave. We stay right here,’ Phillip said. He was cradling his brother’s head. It was a matter of time.
‘We need to go Johnny,’ Summer said. I knew she was right. Already a thin veneer of water was covering half the expanse of sand back to the beach. In a few minutes it would be deep, and we would either drown or get bitten by one of the quicksand zombies.
‘Run then.’
And we did. We ran for survival, splashing through to outrun the tide. We just wanted to live. Lying panting on the shingle, I looked out at the sea. There wasn’t a single patch of sand to be seen. The sea had smothered everything; it had taken the Hanson boys. I was numb. I wanted to care, but I couldn’t quite find the feeling. It was out of reach, walled off by all the death surrounding us.
‘We’ll be safe on the rig, I know that. We start again,’ Summer said.
I followed her gaze; a red light blinking on the horizon. It was all the hope we had left.
CHAPTER 28
Summer threw some water on her face from the small, white sink. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. Once upon a time, she had spent good money on hairdressers and manicures, now her blonde hair hung in a tangle of tresses. She could pass for a surfer babe maybe, fashionably dishevelled. Summer opened her mouth in an ugly gape, and tried to look at a rear molar. There was an ache there, and she wondered what they would do for dentistry? Perhaps we would all have wooden false teeth, like the middle-ages, she grimaced.
Wandering out of the bathroom, Summer went down the corridor to Lester’s smoke-choked little den.
‘Are you sure about any of this?’ she heard Johnny say.
‘I’ve seen it with my own eyes,’ Lester insisted. ‘The alien thing in the blood, the virus that started this nightmare, is man-made. I don’t know that much about the science, but I know nature doesn’t make things that perfect. I believe what I am seeing through the microscope is a synthetic artefact. I have read scientists in America have been able to create a living poliovirus, that there was a recipe downloadable on the internet. The journals say it is a simple virus to make. They talked of smallpox being the next step. I think somebody made this thing.’
‘Is this a government conspiracy theory, Lester?’ Summer said. ‘Have you been back on the booze? How can you tell anything through that old microscope?’
‘Well, okay I can’t see things on a genetic level,’ Lester went on. ‘It’s instinct partly. The way it’s acting. It’s a blood borne virus that can take effect in minutes. There’s nothing in nature that can work that fast, nothing that does what this does. Even the smallest exposure appears deadly.’
‘Apart from you, Lester, you’re immune remember,’ Summer reminded him. ‘Although for my money that might be wishful thinking.’
‘Okay, Lester, say you’re right,’ said Johnny. ‘What if it wasn’t the government? I mean they seem as dead as everyone else. There’s been no helicopters or planes in the sky, or even radio messages. There’s no evidence to show politicians or military survived, or have any power still. They appear to have been caught unawares just like the rest of us. What if it was somebody else who did this?’
‘Bio-terrorism?’ Lester added. ‘Took the words right out of my mouth.’
‘And you know what that means? We should watch our backs, that’s what. If your kooky theory is right, the next batch of survivors to jump the fence could well be the damn people behind it all,’ Summer said.
‘Oh course, it’s just a theory. Got no way to test in reality, not with just this old microscope anyway,’ Lester said patting the black, metal contraption on his desk.
‘Maybe one day, Lester. Priority now is to get the hell out of here with the skin still on our backs,’ Johnny said.
‘So we make for the rig at first light tomorrow, when the tide is up,’ Lester said. ‘Makes sense. Those farmers are all damned psychos these days.’
‘Agreed,’ Johnny said. Summer liked it when he did his tough man act.
‘Let’s go and grab some lunch. Not much left now that isn’t already packed on the boat. Hope you like rice cakes,’ Summer smiled.
Later, she shared a cigarette with Johnny in the car park. The old orders read no smoking on police premises. It seemed old habits died hard, as they always came outside here to smoke. She felt the questions still nagging at her.
‘Do you miss her, Johnny?’
‘My wife? I told you, we were estranged, Summer. She went down to London, some younger lover. I’ve told you that before.’
‘Do you not wonder what happened to her? She might have survived you know. Have you thought of going to look?’
‘Can’t say I have. She’s gone, Summer. She didn’t love me, and the feeling was mutual. Drop it will you.’
‘You are always so touchy, makes me think there was something you’re not telling me ... Forget about it, I’m being stupid. Just a bit emotional after the boys went,’ she said at last, and hugged him. Johnny was her man. She would die for him, she was pretty sure. ‘When we sit here sometimes I can make myself forget everything that’s happened. It just seems like another normal day. You know, go to a few community meetings, go home and drink a good bottle of red wine and watch a DVD.’
‘Hope I factor into this scenario, honey,’ Johnny said smiling. ‘I like wine and DVD’s too, you know. Any chance of an invite?’
‘No, no gatecrashers allowed in my daydreams,’ she said and tickled his ribs.
‘Let’s go for a walk Johnny. Watch the sunset over this village one last time.’
Summer chose the route, and guided them through a cut-through that led down to a causeway above the beach. To their left was an expansive lawn of a country house, long split into apartments. The grass looked heavy with dead wood and leaves, no grounds keeper to keep it clean. They watched grey squirrels roll and gather chestnuts among the sticks. Carefree and abundant in numbers, they looked happy with their new world.
‘How would you catch a squirrel?’ Johnny said.
‘Don’t even think it.’
They walked on to the old boathouse, derelict years before the outbreak came. It was once a place where yachts were brought out of the water for servicing. Now it was just an empty husk of a warehouse on the beachfront. Smashed windows and a rusting metal corrugated roof.
‘Let’s go off the beaten track,’ Summer said, steering them on to a rubble, uphill path.
‘We’re not going to see many sunsets up here,’ Johnny said.
‘Changed my mind. My prerogative you know.’
The path took them up steeply. They passed a small shack that once sold ice cream, the gloomy windows broken an
d the green paint peeled off the doorframes. Like the boat yard, it had been derelict for years. The path took them higher and into the canopy of woods. They both started to breathe a little heavier, not used to exercise after months of cautious movements.
‘We turn off here,’ Summer pointed. ‘I used to climb this easy.’
‘So you’ve been here before? When you were at work?’
‘No, when I was a kid, silly. Me and my friends used to come here a lot. To drink and smoke. Come on, I’ll show you.’
Summer pushed the dense foliage out of the way and stepped off the path. She half-remembered the way through the oaks and willows, and was pleased to find the faint trodden trail still in the soil.
‘This way, Johnny,’ she said. To her right she saw a high stone wall, with what looked like a small castle rising above it. She remembered climbing it once in her youth, and finding the exciting castle was actually no more than somebody’s garden shed, filled with boring gardening tools. Summer followed the line of the wall and went deeper into the trees. Through the leaves and branches they could just make out the roof of the manor house apartments they had seen from the beach.
‘So what was this place?’ Johnny said touching a blue rope net attached to a tree. It tore in his hand when he pulled at it, rotten.
‘This place used to be an adventure playground believe it or not,’ Summer said, walking up to an old tyre swing. The rubber was green with mould, and the rope just a few thin threads. ‘No swinging today I guess. Back in the day, the old house at the bottom was outward bound for under-privileged kids. Went bust, and for a time it was an adventure playground for us village kids.’
‘So this place was your mis-spent youth.’
‘Yeah, kind of. Drinking and carousing, you name it.’
‘So, did you bring boys down here, for a good time?’
‘Jeez, Johnny Silverman. Are you jealous?’
‘Yeah well, that’s my prerogative, okay,’ Johnny said smiling. ‘Seriously, your whoring is of no interest to me really.’
That earned him a punch on the arm. They sat for a while, catching the sunset through the trees, the orange ball sliding down behind the hills that lined the far side of the bay. Summer felt the warm tingle of happiness that could only be love. She had found her soulmate finally at the end of the world.