The Undead_Day 22

by R. R. Haywood

  The Undead

  Twenty-Two

  RR Haywood

  rrhaywood.com

  Copyright © R. R. Haywood 2017

  R. R. Haywood asserts his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  “The Undead” ™ and “The Living Army” ™ are Trademarks.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events, unless those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or undead), is purely coincidental.

  The inclusion within this story of the character “Anja” is used as a prize in a competition and although to a degree they are based on the real persons they remain fictitious characters within a work of fiction and the author asserts his full rights to amend, delete or change those character(s).

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Design, Cover and Illustration by Eddyart.

  Also by RR Haywood

  EXTRACTED SERIES

  EXTRACTED

  EXECUTED

  EXTINCT

  International best-selling time-travel

  #1 Amazon US

  #1 Amazon UK

  #1 Audible US & UK

  Top 3 Amazon Australia

  Washington Post Best-seller

  In 2061, a young scientist invents a time machine to fix a tragedy in his past. But his good intentions turn catastrophic when an early test reveals something unexpected: the end of the world.

  A desperate plan is formed. Recruit three heroes, ordinary humans capable of extraordinary things, and change the future.

  Safa Patel is an elite police officer, on duty when Downing Street comes under terrorist attack. As armed men storm through the breach, she dispatches them all.

  'Mad' Harry Madden is a legend of the Second World War. Not only did he complete an impossible mission—to plant charges on a heavily defended submarine base—but he also escaped with his life.

  Ben Ryder is just an insurance investigator. But as a young man he witnessed a gang assaulting a woman and her child. He went to their rescue, and killed all five.

  Can these three heroes, extracted from their timelines at the point of death, save the world?

  One

  Day Twenty-Two

  ‘Done?’ Paula asks, her face shining with sweat and her hair plastered to her scalp.

  ‘Yeah, we’re done,’ I say quietly, looking at the array of weaponry taken from the army base by Maddox and now sorted and cleaned. Three general purpose machines guns. Twenty assault rifles. Pistols and crates of ammunition, grenades, flashbangs, tear gas and one longbow with a bunch of arrows salvaged from Roy’s van.

  I look round at the others all beaten to hell. Broken noses, broken ribs, black eyes, swollen ears. Reginald’s hand splinted with broken fingers.

  Those things are on the outside though. Those things are the superficial wounds to the carriages that contain our souls and hearts, and that’s where the most damage has been done. That’s where it hurts more than we can really take because the way we lost Blinky wasn’t right.

  I look up at the night sky, at the thousands of stars shining and think never before have I seen them so clearly, and so many too. There’s no light pollution now and no smog either. No factories churning out fumes or cars and trucks belching smoke. No planes in the air, no trains, no anything.

  ‘We won’t all fit in there,’ Paula says, bringing my attention back to see her staring at the Saxon.

  ‘Could go tonight,’ Maddox says.

  ‘Sorry?’ I ask.

  ‘For a van,’ he says. ‘I could go get one tonight while you rest. Take Mo with me…’

  I mull it over for a few seconds, weighing our needs up against the security of the whole.

  ‘No,’ Paula says firmly.

  ‘Take me an hour or two…’ Maddox says.

  ‘I just lost one,’ Paula says cutting across him as a fresh tear rolls down her cheek. ‘I’m not losing another one today…’

  The lad nods, rendered silent by the emotion pouring from her. She coughs, clearing her throat. ‘Nick? Can I have a cigarette please?’ she asks with a glare at Roy tutting as he steps away. ‘Problem?’

  ‘Stinks,’ he mutters.

  ‘We all stink,’ she snaps. ‘We all stink and we’re all filthy…’

  ‘Cigarettes won’t help then will they.’

  A silence settles. An uneasy quiet where none know what to say. Where none have the words to give. We said nice words at Blinky’s grave. We wept, and we even smiled a little but that raw power that made us gel to give thanks in prayer has lessened now.

  ‘Get some rest,’ I say, breaking the quiet. ‘I’ll take first watch. Clarence, you sleep tonight. Maddox and Mo can…’

  ‘I’ll stand my watch,’ Clarence says, his deep voice rumbling and hoarse.

  ‘You should sleep,’ Paula says, looking from him to me. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘Let us do them,’ Marcy says.

  ‘Said I’ll stand my watch,’ he says, ending the conversation abruptly.

  ‘Come on,’ Blowers says, motioning for the others to follow him. ‘Charlie? You coming?’

  ‘Minute,’ she says dully.

  Cookey stops and turns back, looking like he’s about to say something as Nick brushes his side, pushing him on.

  ‘I’ll get some drinks,’ Marcy tells me, following after the others back to the long low house Maddox found for us.

  Charlie holds back, her arms folded across her body. Her head lowered.

  ‘You okay?’ I ask.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Stupid question.’

  ‘Sorry, Mr Howie,’ she says, easing her tone down a notch.

  ‘Don’t be. Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘No…thank you.’

  ‘Get some rest.’

  ‘Will do,’ she says, holding her ground as she swallows and bites her bottom lip. ‘How do you deal with it?’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Your sister…the others you lost…’

  I stare at her, not knowing what to say. Not having the answer to give and while I search for words of comfort she simply nods once and walks off towards Jess grazing peacefully on the lush grass.

  Ten minutes later, Marcy walks back with two steaming mugs while glancing over to Charlie brushing Jess by the rear of the horse box trailer thing.

  ‘Didn’t she already brush her?’ Marcy asks quietly.

  ‘Twice,’ I reply.

  ‘Maybe I should speak to her.’

  ‘And say what?’

  She thinks for a second then shrugs and sits down next to me on the back step of the Saxon. We sip in silence, watching Charlie brush Jess from head to toe, vigorous brushing too. Not that Jess seems to mind, she’s not tethered and could just walk off if she wasn’t enjoying it. Meredith lies near them, her head up and her tongue hanging out as she pants in the hot night air.

  Charlie then disappears into the horse box trailer thing. Minutes pass. Long minutes until Meredith rises to her feet and trots silently over to lay down on the grass outside the back of the trailer.

  ‘She sleeping in it?’ I ask Marcy.

  ‘Looks like it,’ she murmurs. ‘Want to me to go and look?’

  ‘No. Maybe she just needs some alone time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Marcy says thoughtfully. ‘Howie?’

&nb
sp; ‘Oh god,’ I groan and look at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said my name like mid-conversation which means you want to talk about something.’

  She blinks at me, all gorgeous and sultry and more gorgeous. ‘Yes,’ she says.

  ‘Fine,’ I say glumly then frown at realising we can’t have sex with Charlie being so close in the back of the horsebox trailer thing. Then I remember we buried Blinky just a few hours ago and here I am thinking about sex, which makes me hate myself.

  ‘We can’t have sex now,’ Marcy whispers, which makes me feel a bit better that I wasn’t the only one thinking it, but I doubt Marcy hates herself.

  ‘Is that what you wanted to talk about?’ I ask hopefully.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, back to glum.

  ‘I want to end it.’

  ‘Eh?’ I ask, sputtering coffee. ‘Why? What did I do?’

  ‘Pardon?’ she asks me, looking for confused for a second. ‘No! Not us, I meant…oh bless, did you think I meant us?’

  ‘Er…no, I mean…did you mean that?’

  ‘Aw, you’re sweet.’

  ‘Patronising.’

  ‘Bless you, no that’s not what I meant. I mean the infection thing.’

  ‘The infection thing?’

  ‘Yes, the infection thing. You should let me end it.’

  ‘Right. I see. So…just to be clear on that?’

  ‘Ah okay, yes so I leave you all and go off and…you know…find some hosts of my own and then a few more and…off we go…’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You wait in the fort and I’ll be back in no time. Good idea?’

  ‘No. It’s a terrible idea.’

  ‘Really? I thought it was a good idea.’

  ‘Seriously, it’s the worst idea ever.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says slowly in a tone that I know means she doesn’t mean okay at all. ‘And why is it a bad idea precisely?’

  ‘It is a bad idea precisely because it means you killing a bunch of innocent people and making them into fucking zombies to fight the other fucking zombies. Which is shit. Like…like really shit.’

  ‘But Reggie said to be what I was. He said that.’

  ‘I think he meant to get us out of the shit yesterday. Which you did and was awesome by the way…maybe a little bit excessive with killing three hundred people but…’

  ‘I was angry.’

  ‘Yep, totally get that. Angry, yes. So…I mean…it was a good idea then but as a tactic to fix the world? Um…not so sure.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just said why. It’d be like…I don’t know what it would be like…other than it would be bad.’

  She pouts and huffs, sips her drink, swallows and looks at me again. ‘I disagree.’

  ‘Cool,’ I say. ‘No.’

  ‘Just go back to the fort and wait for me.’

  ‘I said no.’

  ‘They’re my friends too, Howie.’

  ‘Who are?’

  ‘Everyone here. They’re my friends too.’

  ‘What’s that go to do with it?’

  ‘They’ll die if they keep going. We felt Blowers die and now Blinky and Mo is just a kid…’

  ‘Mo? Have you seen him fight? He’s like a mini-Dave.’

  ‘He’s still only sixteen.’

  ‘Okay, no I get what you’re saying, I really do…but no.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘It’s not the right thing. We can’t take people against their will to fight something they didn’t ask for.’

  ‘It’s not like that. Listen, Howie, the bit when they turn isn’t nice but after that…well, they don’t feel anything, no pain, no suffering, they won’t know anything…and anyway, Reggie turned back and your ex-girlfriend who you had sex with in that filthy dingy room on the table while we all listened also turned back…so…’

  We both stop as a flash of blue goes past my eyes making me blink and pull away sharply while instinctively bringing my hand up to protect my face.

  ‘No! hold still,’ Marcy says, reaching out to push my hand down. ‘It’s just a moth.’ It dances in front of my eyes for a second, too close to focus on until settling on Marcy’s outstretched finger.

  ‘That’s a butterfly,’ I say, gaining focus to see electric blue wings framed with white and black edging.

  ‘Beautiful colours,’ Marcy says. ‘I wonder what it is.’

  ‘It’s a butterfly.’

  ‘I know it’s a butterfly. I meant what kind.’

  ‘A blue one.’

  ‘Idiot. Anyway, back to…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re not listening.’

  ‘I am and I did and it’s still no. Thank you for getting us all out of the shit but that’s not the way for us,’ I say while staring at the fragile creature resting on her finger. The wings beating softly, opening then closing. So beautiful too.

  ‘Right. And your way is the right way yeah? Getting them all killed?’

  ‘Oi!’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it so harshly…’ she sighs and watches the insect, lifting it closer to her face. ‘Will you at least think about it? Just say you’ll think about it. Talk to Reggie and see what he thinks…we’ll ask Paula and…’

  ‘Okay just slow down. I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I thought about it.’

  ‘Dick.’

  ‘Yep.’

  *

  My eyes open to a room filled with the first rays of a new dawn that should give fresh hope, but it doesn’t. The world is just as shit and broken as it was yesterday.

  ‘Let me end it.’

  ‘I literally just woke up,’ I say gruffly, looking over to see Marcy lying on her front with her head turned towards me and her dark eyes staring intently.

  ‘I can finish this,’ she says.

  I push up from the bed but she grabs my wrist to make me turn back and so we stare with eyes locked and I know, in the depths of my heart that she’d do it. She’d leave here today and bite, cut or even kiss the poor first fucker that crossed her path and send them off to build an army. I smile at the thought of it, at the image in my mind of an all-powerful Marcy and wonder if Darren had any idea what would happen when he bit her arse.

  ‘What?’ she asks, seeing me smile.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say gently and her smile spreads as she frowns.

  ‘What’s funny?’ she asks. I drop down onto an elbow and reach out to trace a finger down her cheek. She closes her eyes at the contact, reaching up to hold my hand as I lean in to kiss her lips. So soft, so bloody soft and warm and even now it makes my heart beat harder and suddenly we’re back on the plains outside the fort with the seasons changing around us and the world spinning.

  ‘I can fix it,’ she whispers, pushing her body against mine. ‘Go to the fort and wait for me…’

  I don’t reply but savour the warmth of her, the press of her body and the soft kisses she gives while her hair falls over my face.

  ‘Let me finish it…then we can go somewhere…find our own fort and make little Howie babies…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I want to grow old with you…’ she says, moving deftly to straddle me with her legs either side while her breasts brush my lips with a new tactic that she has obviously thought about since last night with an attempt at seducing me into submission. Not that I’d fall for such a cheap trick.

  I stiffen and grow hard, opening my lips to take the nipple of her right breast in my mouth as she reaches down to free me from my boxers and guide me inside her.

  Yeah great willpower there, Howie.

  ‘I can end this,’ she says with a gentle gasp, moving forward and backward as the urge within me grows. Her body angles a touch, robbing the breast from my mouth as the other comes over, lowering to be kissed as the soft nipple stiffens between my lips.

  We breathe harder, moving together while the bed makes quiet noises in reaction to the weight of our
bodies. A shift of the frame, gentle and rhythmic. The rustle of the sheets beneath us. The hot air between our forms that we inhale deeply. Her eyes flutter open and closed, watching me through heavy lids and she lowers, bringing her mouth to my ear and my body tingles from the soft air blasting across. ‘Let me end it.’

  I shake my head. Just a fraction of motion but enough for her to detect and she moves a little bit faster, pushing a little bit harder to take me a little bit deeper.

  ‘Let me end it,’ she urges.

  I shake my head again, unable to speak from the boob in my mouth.

  ‘Tell me you love me,’ she demands.

  ‘I love you,’ I say, somewhat muffled.

  ‘Tell me you trust me.’

  I nod instead of trying to talk.

  ‘What I had before…I can use it…all their minds were in mine.’

  I shake my head this time so she pushes harder with a sudden show of irritation. ‘Let me,’ she says, her voice a notch deeper, huskier, harder, her fingers curling just a little to give me the feel of nails.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let me end it,’ she says almost petulantly, thrusting down so hard it makes me gasp a bit.

  ‘No,’ I say, hoping she’ll do the thrusting thing again.

  She lowers to stare into my eyes, her body building to orgasm, shuddering then spasming harder. I grip the cheeks of her arse and run my fingers over the scar made by another man’s mouth. She reaches back, pushing my hand into the bite, gasping at the sensation. ‘Fuck me,’ she urges, pushing my hand into the bite. ‘I’ll end it…I’ll finish it…’ the words spill out on a rush of air.

  ‘You won’t,’ I gasp, opposing her wishes, refusing compliance or to be swayed by the feel of her body.

  She thrusts down, taking me the deepest yet while forcing my hand to push into that bite.

  We come together. Powerfully and deeply with a battle of energy that flows from one to the other until it ebbs away, easing as our bodies relax and we lie entwined and coupled, clasped together but the fleeting pleasure we gained soon slides away to leave the harshness of the new day ahead of us.