‘We’re not nicking them,’ Blowers says. ‘We’re admiring…and even if we drive one we’ll leave it here for the pleasure of other survivors…’
‘What’s a Veyron?’ Paula asks, lighting a cigarette while standing just outside the broken window.
‘Paula,’ Marcy tuts. ‘Even I know what a Bugatti Veyron is…it’s like the best car ever.’
‘Now nicked by some selfish thundercunt,’ Blowers says.
‘Oh,’ Paula says, blowing smoke into the air. ‘Ask Howie to wave his thing.’
‘My what?’ Howie asks to the sniggers rolling around the room.
‘Dirty sods. I meant the thing he waved earlier…’ Paula says.
‘I haven’t waved my thing at anyone,’ Howie says.
‘You’ve waved it at me a few times,’ Marcy says to more sniggers. ‘And in the armoury with Lani when she turned into a zombie and you had sex with her on the table while we all listened outside…’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Howie groans as Danny looks at Mr Howie in awe.
‘I’m not on about Mr Howie’s penis,’ Paula says.
‘Thank god for that,’ Howie mutters.
‘I meant earlier…’ Paula says.
‘What earlier?’ Marcy asks.
‘Earlier…in the street,’ Paula says, huffing at herself. ‘You know… the willystick…’
‘Willystick?’ Howie asks.
‘Fuckstick?’ Blowers suggests.
‘Fuckstick,’ Paula says, clicking her fingers at Blowers. ‘He waved his fuckstick…’
‘It was a magic invisible fuckstick,’ Cookey says.
‘Yes, that,’ Paula says.
‘What about it?’ Howie asks.
‘What?’ Paula asks.
‘I’m so lost,’ Howie says.
‘The Veyron car,’ Paula says. ‘It’s not here…’
‘Oh! Oh, I see…you want me to wave my magic invisible fuckstick to bring the Veyron back?’
‘Yes! Oh my god I think this heat is killing brain cells,’ Paula says.
‘Either that or your explanation was shit,’ Marcy says.
‘So?’ Paula says, staring at Howie.
‘What?’ Howie asks, looking around. ‘I’m not doing it now…don’t all look at me like that. Seriously, stop looking at me…fuck’s sake…fine, okay…here is my magic invisible fuckstick that I shall wave to make the Veyron appear…tada!’
Silence for a second as everyone looks to the big hole in the window and watches the blue-winged butterfly flap lazily from right to left before the roar of a high-performance engine coming towards them sounds out. A screech of tyres and black and orange Bugatti Veyron appears in a screeching sliding stop.
‘You really need to ask for coffee,’ Blowers says, looking from the Veyron to Howie.
A gear change and the Bugatti engine whines as it reverses back into the parking space it held earlier. Crunching over the broken glass and coming to a stop with a few more revs coming from the front.
‘REV IT AGAIN,’ Nick shouts to the driver. Listening as the engine roars out in the confined space. ‘SO GOOD…’
‘VERY GOOD,’ Roy shouts to many manly nods.
‘HE’S A GOOD BLOKE FOR BRINGING IT BACK,’ Blowers shouts.
‘TOP BLOKE,’ Cookey shouts.
‘GOOD LAD,’ Nick adds, his voice booming out as the engine finally cuts off, dropping into an awed silence of everyone staring at the car.
Then the door opens, and a slender tanned tattooed arm stretches out with a black pistol held by the barrel and the butt facing Nick who takes it without a word and hands it back to Cookey who passes it to Blowers who hands it on to Mo who gives it to Maddox who passes it on to Danny who doesn’t know what to do with it.
The arm disappears from view for a second then reappears holding a black police issue G36 assault rifle by the barrel with the stock held towards Nick who takes it without a word and hands it back to Cookey who passes it to Blowers who hands it on to Mo who gives it to Madddox who passes it on to Danny who fumbles with his own rifle, the other pistol and now another assault rifle.
Only then does the driver get out and stand with her hands up and away from her body as though to show she is unarmed before moving to stand between Nick and Cookey in the silent line facing the car.
‘So beautiful,’ Nick whispers.
‘Is,’ the woman whispers.
‘Work of art,’ Roy says.
‘Definitely,’ the woman says.
‘I almost don’t want to drive it,’ Nick whispers.
‘Oh you do,’ the woman whispers.
Dark blond hair pulled back, a stud in her nose, another two piercings in her left eyebrow. A simple vest top, tattoos on both arms and the empty pistol holster on her right side. She doesn’t flinch when Meredith pushes her nose into her hand but glances down, smiles and strokes the dog’s head before looking back at the car.
‘Is this the group with Mr Howie and Dave?’ she asks quietly, her mouth turning up and to the left when she speaks.
‘Yeah,’ Nick says, lifting a hand in the general direction of Howie. She keeps her eyes on the Veyron and lifts the front of her top up to show bite and scratch marks on her bruised stomach.
‘I got bit by the zombie things and I keep getting weird moods…is that normal?’ she asks as they all look from the car to her belly for a second.
‘Nah, you’re a freak,’ Cookey says, looking back at the car. ‘We’ll have to shoot you.’
‘Okay,’ she says, pulling the top down.
‘It’s fine. We’ve all been bit,’ Nick says.
‘Cool,’ she says, lapsing back into reverential silence for a few seconds. ‘Fancy a drag race?’
‘Fuck yes,’ Nick says. ‘Ferrari versus Lambo?’
She pulls a face, tilting her head side to side. ‘How about all of them?’
The lads all turn to look at her with love shining in eyes as Paula sighs and shakes her head. ‘I’ll get another bag ready…and Mo?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes, not yeah.’
‘Sorry, Dave. Yes, Paula?’
‘You’re not taking part, you’re only sixteen.’
‘What! That’s not fair…’
‘Or you, Danny…not after smashing the van into that shop.’
‘Aw but, Paula,’ Mo says, rushing after her. ‘I’m a good driver. Ask Mads…’
‘He’s shit.’
‘Fuck off, Mads! I can drive…Mr Howie lets me drive the Saxon…I’ll just do a slow one at the back or something and I’ll put the seatbelt on and everything…’
‘No,’ Paula’s voice sails through from outside.
‘So not fair. I invaded an army base on my own and rescued everyone and…’
‘You had Maddox with you…and I said no…’
Mo stops rushing after Paula, his face screwing up like the sixteen-year-old boy he is, then he spots Howie and turns quickly. ‘Mr Howie…’
‘Oh no, don’t bring me into this…’
‘Cheeky fucker!’ Cookey says, bursting out laughing. ‘Aw but Dad…mum said no…’ he mimics, setting everyone else off.
‘And you’s can get fucked,’ Mo tells him, flicking a middle finger which just makes them laugh more. ‘Sorry, Miss, I ain’t swearing at you,’ he tells the woman. ‘Just them bellends…Paula, please!’
‘No!’
‘Ah but but…Clarence…’ he tries again, looking imploringly at the big man.
‘Don’t even try,’ Clarence says.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Mo huffs, folding his arms and stalking back to stand next to Marcy. ‘S’fine innit. I’ll just guard Marcy with my life while’s you’s go and drive nice cars…’
‘What?’ Marcy asks.
‘Mo!’ Blowers groans.
‘Fuck it,’ Howie groans.
‘What’s going on?’ Marcy asks.
‘Not sayin’ nuffin’,’ Mo grumbles. ‘I’m too young to drive so’s I be quiet.’
‘Why is Mo guarding me?’ Ma
rcy asks, looking from Mo to Clarence to Reginald then to Howie who all burst to life at the same time, walking towards the woman stood with Nick.
‘Hi, I’m Howie…’ Howie says, holding his hand out.
‘Clarence,’ Clarence says, joining Howie’s side.
‘Blowers?’ Marcy asks, her voice hardening.
‘I’m Blowers,’ Blowers says, turning quickly into the small group surrounding the woman. ‘So er…you got bit? That’s awful.’
‘Awful,’ Howie says.
‘Must have hurt,’ Cookey says.
‘Looks painful,’ Nick adds.
‘Hello my dear, my name is Reginald, it is very nice to meet you…’
‘I like your tattoos,’ Cookey says.
‘Is she still there?’ Howie asks in a whisper that carries across the room.
‘She’s folding her arms,’ Nick whispers as Marcy folds her arms.
‘She’s doing that angry pouting thing,’ Cookey whispers as Marcy starts glaring.
‘I can fight like the whole army, but I can’t drive a Porsche…’ Mo grumbles.
‘Use your magic fuckstick on her…’ Cookey urges.
‘Er, not the thing to say right now mate,’ Howie says, wincing at the new woman. ‘He doesn’t mean my penis…I just said penis…’
‘You said penis,’ Clarence tells him.
‘The boss just said penis,’ Nick says, covering his face with his hand.
‘Stop saying penis to the new woman,’ Marcy snaps. ‘Leave the poor girl alone…’
‘I’m fine, really,’ the new woman says politely.
‘What the…’ Paula says, walking back in to see them all crowding around the new woman. ‘What the hell are you all doing?’
‘I said Mr Howie should use his fuckstick on Marcy, but he was worried the new lady thought I meant penis so he…er…told the…nice lady…’ Cookey tails off into the silence.
‘Jesus wept,’ Paula says, marching through them. ‘Go on, sod off and leave her alone…she doesn’t need to know about fucksticks or…’
‘Please, Paula.’
‘I said no, Mo…you’re only sixteen…right, you come with me,’ she says to the woman. ‘Honestly, they’re awful round new people sometimes. It’s just embarrassing…what’s your name?’
‘It’s fine,’ the woman says, looking around at everyone while being escorted away. ‘Natasha…but everyone calls me Tappy.’
‘Tappy? That’s nice. Why Tappy? I said no, Mo…this is Charlie who will stop the idiots from pestering you. So yes, great. Why Tappy?’
‘Er my er…my surname.’
‘Your surname is Tappy?’ Paula asks as Charlie smiles at the new woman who smiles back while staring at Charlie’s shaved head.
‘Drinkwater,’ Tappy says quietly.
‘Drinkwater?’ Paula asks. ‘Oh, I see…yes that makes sense.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Cookey says.
‘Someone better tell me why Mo is guarding me…’ Marcy says. ‘No? Really? I’ll just ask Charlie then…’
‘Me?’ Charlie asks. ‘Why me?’
‘You know everything,’ Paula says. ‘Charlie knows everything,’ she tells Tappy.
‘I really don’t,’ Charlie tells Tappy.
‘I love the shaved head thing,’ Tappy tells her. ‘Really suits you…’
‘Thanks, only did it this morning.’
‘Right! Fine. Charlie, why is Mo guarding me?’
‘How would I know? Oh, hang on…ah yes, that makes sense actually.’
‘Charlie knows everything,’ Paula tells Tappy again, handing her a rucksack.
‘Can I say?’ Charlie asks, looking to Howie and Reginald who both shakes their heads frantically.
‘Someone better bloody tell me,’ Marcy snaps. ‘Is this because I bit those soldiers?’
‘What?’ Tappy asks.
‘It is isn’t it? It’s because I bit all those soldiers…’
‘Honestly, it’s really not like it sounds…’ Paula says, opening the rucksack in Tappy’s hands. ‘So in here, you’ve got water and…’
‘WHOA!’ Marcy shouts, glaring from Howie to Mo. ‘Is Mo meant to kill me if I try and bite anyone?’
‘What?’ Howie asks.
‘Eh?’ Blowers asks.
‘No!’ Clarence says.
‘God no,’ Howie says.
‘Of course not,’ Reginald says.
‘Is that it? Mo, you little shit…you said you loved me like a sister…’
‘Dunno, I’m only sixteen,’ Mo says glumly.
‘And some snack bars in case you get peckish,’ Paula continues.
‘It was only three hundred,’ Marcy says. ‘Not like before when I did thousands…’
‘What?’ Tappy asks.
‘It’s not that,’ Howie says.
‘It’s not,’ Blowers says.
‘I’d say you’re being protected rather than guarded, Marcy,’ Charlie says.
‘Don’t say it,’ Howie blurts.
‘Like a VIP…’ Charlie adds.
‘Oh god she said it,’ Howie says.
‘What!?’ Marcy asks. ‘Why?’
‘In case the infection goes for you…because you can do what it can do…only better…’
‘Oh arse,’ Howie mumbles. ‘All hope is gone.’
‘It’s over,’ Blowers says.
‘Was nice knowing you all,’ Clarence says.
‘We had a good run,’ Howie says.
‘No, it was fun,’ Blowers says. ‘Ish…apart from dying twice…and losing an eye and a finger…’
Marcy simmers, her arms folded, her eyes hard but the words sink in and they sink deep. VIP. Protected. She can do what the infection can…but better. ‘So I’m important then am I?’
‘Okay,’ Howie announces, looking around at the lads. ‘Blowers, you shoot me and Clarence…then do yourself…everyone else find a shooting buddy and we’ll just end it here yeah?’
‘Pack it in,’ Paula calls out testily. ‘I’m so sorry, Tappy…it’s not normally like this.’
‘It is,’ Charlie mouths. ‘All the time.’
‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ Tappy says politely. ‘Er, why are you giving me a bag?’
‘To keep your things in,’ Paula replies as though the answer is obvious.
‘Okay,’ Tappy says, looking down at the bag then back up to Paula. ‘Why’s that then?’
‘Where else you going to put your stuff? Oh, have you already got a bag? I didn’t even think of that…of course yes, you can use your own if you want…’
‘Use it for what?’ Tappy asks.
Charlie clears her throat and offers a tight smile to Tappy and an apologetic one to Paula who she can see is looking more strained by the minute. ‘If I may interject, I think Paula is assuming you may be joining us?’ she asks as though making a gentle suggestion.
‘Er, so…you guys having a big chat?’ Nick asks, edging towards the Bugatti Veyron. ‘Alright if I just crack on yeah?’
‘Who said you’re driving the Veyron?’ Blowers asks, edging towards the car.
‘Who said I’m not?’ Nick asks, taking another step as Cookey, Blowers, Maddox and Roy all do the same.
‘Stop,’ Blowers orders. ‘I’m the corporal so…’
‘Fuck you!’ Nick blurts, ‘we’re on downtime…’
‘Can we do this in a minute?’ Tappy asks, looking from Charlie to Paula. ‘It’s just that I…’ she steps backwards while thumbing over her shoulder at the Veyron then turns to see the lads all staring at her suspiciously.
‘This is stupid,’ Maddox sighs heavily as though all of this is beneath him and starts to turn away before making a dash for the car. Tappy bursts to life, running for the open driver’s door while Nick, Cookey and Blowers all plough forward, burdened by their weapons. An instant melee as they come together, jostling and trying to push forward.
‘Ow,’ Tappy cries out, clutching her arm.
‘Oh shit, are you okay?’ Nick asks
as the lads all back-up with instant alarm.
‘Sorry, was that me?’ Cookey asks.
‘Mugs,’ she bursts out laughing, dropping into the driver’s seat to flick a middle finger up.
‘Cheating sod,’ Cookey says with genuine admiration. ‘Well played though…’
‘I would like the bag!’ she calls out with a laugh. ‘After the downtime though…is that okay?’
Eleven
Day Fourteen.
‘Last room,’ she says with a huff, not bothering to wait for him this time but pushing the door open and waving her sawn-off shotgun inside. ‘Anyone there? No? What a surprise…that’s because they have all gone,’ she adds as Gregori moves past her into the room.
Cassie watches him check the sides and underneath the bed before opening the wardrobe and leans over to open the bathroom door with a sigh so he can check that too. The same thing he has done in every room of the luxury boutique hotel and spa.
‘Done?’ she asks, holding the shotgun while wearing a fluffy white Hillside Luxury Boutique Hotel and Spa complimentary gown and slippers. She did think twice about putting the gown on. Prowling around a hotel in your bra and pants with a shotgun might be sexy if it was just her and Gregori, especially given that every room has a bed in it, but with the boy present, she chose modesty over seduction. Besides, being overtly sexual to Gregori doesn’t seem to be working so well.
‘Is good,’ Gregori says seriously, emerging from searching the bathroom and now at least feeling a little bit more at ease after checking every single room in the place and locking all the exit doors.
‘Great, can we go back to swimming?’
‘Yes,’
‘Great,’ she says again, holding still when he doesn’t walk off and now knowing enough about the man to pick up the vibe when something is bugging him. ‘What now?’
‘I no have the thing.’
‘What thing?’
‘For the swim. I no have this.’
She blasts air, hot and sweaty. ‘What thing, Gregori?’
‘The clothes. I no have this.’
‘Swimming costume? You mean like trunks? To wear?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s fine. Swim in your pants…you’re wearing pants right? Boxers? Shorts?’
‘Yes.’
‘Great.’
‘No.’
‘Why no?’
‘Is white.’
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