The Undead_Day 22

by R. R. Haywood

  Howie and his group stay in their house during that day. The twenty-second day since the world fell, since the true state of being came to gain life, since the cull started. A day for Cassie to think while living their blissful existence. An afternoon in the garden. Cassie lying with her head on Gregori’s leg while the boy plays nearby.

  ‘Tell me,’ she urges, looking up at Gregori. ‘I want to know.’

  ‘Is bad,’ he says with a scowl.

  ‘It’s fine. I want to know who you are.’

  ‘I Gregori,’ he says, a flash of a humourless smile. ‘Is what I say. When I go…’

  ‘Go where?’

  He shrugs, looking away to the boy. ‘Where they say. A house. A mansion. A fortress. I go. I kill. I say I Gregori so they know.’

  She listens intently, reaching up to stroke his cheek, telling him it’s okay.

  ‘Uglyman,’ he says. ‘The Uglyman is coming. The Uglyman will kill you. I boogie man. I the tale to say kids to make them not speak of drugs and women in boxes on ships. I Gregori. I the Uglyman…’

  ‘You’re not ugly, you’re beautiful.’

  ‘I no this thing. I kill men, the women…I kill the children. I kill all. Hundreds. Thousands…’

  She swallows and listens, staring intently as he speaks. ‘You said your name so they would hear you?’

  ‘Yes. I say this. I make scared. Fear make mistake. They know my name. I say this and they run and shoot badly. Sometimes I no say my name. I look weak and stupid. The guards, they think this man is stupid. He is weak. I kill them easy then. I kill all…’ a scowl, a look of disgust and regret and pain and turmoil and so many things all bubbling inside. ‘I go hell. I make boy be boy…in this…’ he casts a hand out at the world. ‘This I do now. I go hell but I give boy life. I give you life…’

  She rises to kiss his lips, cupping his cheeks and blinking back the tears from the absolute rush of emotion inside. ‘I love you, Gregori…’ she whispers. ‘You did things. So what? Now you’re here with us. Our family and we love you…’ she kisses him again then holds him tight for long minutes before easing back down to rest on his lap. ‘Tell me more, I’m interested…’

  ‘Tell what?’ he asks, playing with the strands of her hair.

  ‘I don’t know. Anything…say you had an enemy that was really strong and good…’

  ‘I kill.’

  ‘But what if they’re too strong and you can’t kill them.’

  ‘Is make no sense. All die. Is one way or the other way. I go towards them at front and if no work I come from behind, from the side. If no work I think. Be smart. Make them come to me…I choose my ground to fight. I make think all good. I give them the confidence but too much and say you come to me and I make my ground. I fight then. They die. All die…’

  She looks up again, smiling softly. ‘That’s nice when you play with my hair…’

  He looks out to the boy, a pause, a thought. ‘The boy, he say this man Howie. He say Howie here and Howie there. He say Howie no die. He say thousands they try and they no kill this Howie. Is stupid. You go to man like that you fight on his ground and he kill you. He smart. Make not smart. He strong, make weak. Find weakness…’

  Her heart booms, her whole body still as she listens. The boy too. His face now ageless and old. His eyes not his own.

  ‘Make think stupid. Make think weak then bring to own ground and kill. He die. All die. Is no big thing…’

  ‘But er…they’re very skilled,’ she says as though suggesting softly.

  ‘All have weakness…the…the…’ he falters, trying to find the word. ‘Boy, what are the words when a man loves himself?’ he switches to Albanian without thinking, throwing the question at the child.

  ‘Vanity and conceit,’ the boy says, the infection says in English.

  ‘Yes, this thing. I use this. The confidence is too much. I break you with this. Who you love? I kill them in front of you. I make weak. What you hate? I bring this. What make you fear? I bring this. I kill. All die.’

  A look from Cassie to the boy and the world moves on. Rolling ever forward because time is linear and there is only the future to look upon.

  On the morning of the twenty-fifth day she rises, as before, to urinate and rinse her face before descending the stairs to the boy in the kitchen and the infection already waiting. The face aged and old. The boy not a boy and she feels a rush of guilt, hating herself for using the boy while feeling a thrill at the game they are playing. A chemical dump and seconds later she has no guilt.

  ‘Are they ready?’ she asks quietly, leaning forward on the table to stare at the thing inside the child.

  ‘Yes,’ the infection says.

  ‘And they’re all in one area?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. We just need to get Howie somewhere so they can all meet and have a jolly nice time…are you still telling him he is cruel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good, keep saying the same things and make them think we’re stupid and stuck in a loop. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe get them into some messed up situations…like…like, imagine if they went into a village or something and all the hosts were trying to act normal. That would be freaky…play with their heads and confuse them but be passive. One host at a time. Lead them on…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, good. We’ll need to go out for supplies later so don’t let this area get affected. I don’t want Gregori seeing any hosts. Keep a good twenty to thirty-mile radius from here clear…’ A creak upstairs. Footsteps. The bathroom door closing. ‘He’s up. Talk later…well hello sunshine!’ she says as the boy comes back into his own skin. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, Casseee, can I have some Frosties?’

  ‘You can have whatever you want my scrummy little pumpkin…’

  Nineteen

  Day Twenty-five

  ‘Did you see that?’ Reginald asks in his van as they drive from the village of the damned.

  ‘Which bit?’ Maddox asks.

  ‘Why all of it of course. A thing to do. To copy society but so terribly done with an awful execution and did you see Howie? Did you see that woman running away from him? She was scared, Mr Doku…and that is what we need to harness. That is our advantage to press.’

  Maddox nods, blasting air slowly. ‘Felt like we were being probed for reaction.’

  ‘Oh my yes, yes it did feel like that didn’t it. Very well observed, Mr Doku. What else did you observe? I fear you may have seen things I did not because unfortunately, I am part of the hive mind, so I have the sufferance of the emotional reaction to contend with.’

  ‘Just that really. Like it was being done to shock us, to see how we would react…’

  ‘Good, very good. Do that again.’

  ‘Do what again?’

  ‘Keep a clear head to watch when I am not able…’

  ‘Sure, no problem,’ Maddox says, sitting back against the side of the van. His position now gained with at least some security.

  ‘The day is upon us, yes yes, upon us it is and to the victor go the spoils…we must push on. Mr Howie, it is Reginald. We must push on…time is of the essence now…’

  ‘Yep, will do mate,’ Howie replies, thumbing his radio and glancing across to Clarence. ‘He sounds almost happy.’

  ‘You think he’s happy now?’ Marcy asks from behind. ‘Stick him in a suit and tie and watch him float off the ground…that was a joke,’ she adds quickly at the thoughtful silence following her comments. ‘Seriously, don’t give him a suit…’

  *

  The edge of the next town. A lone figure waiting for them at the side of the road. His manner passive but his eyes red and filled with the thing inside watching intently as the Saxon slows to a stop and the driver’s door opens.

  ‘Hi!’ Howie says, looking down. ‘We’re trying to find the zombie grand master…you know…in charge of all the zombies? Yes? No?’

  ‘One race.’
<
br />   ‘Soooo, I take it you don’t know where he is?’

  ‘Who said it’s a man,’ Marcy calls from the back.

  ‘Ooh good point,’ Howie says. ‘Is it a lady grand master?’ he asks the infected.

  ‘We are not cruel.’

  ‘Is she fit?’ Cookey shouts from the back.

  ‘Is she fit?’ Howie relays the question. ‘I’m asking for a friend…I’ve got my own zombie grand master girlfriend…’

  The infected stares. Howie stares back. A silence of seconds.

  ‘Bit awkward,’ Howie says with a wince. ‘Er so…we’ll just get on our way? Nice talking to you…’ he closes the door, pulls away, stops, reverses and opens the door again. ‘Soz,’ he says and shoots the man in the head before pulling away again.

  Into the town. Nameless and unremarkable. The same store-fronts. The same names of shops. The same width of parking bays and the same level of storm damage. Ubiquitous England in all its unoriginal glory.

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ Clarence says, peering out the front.

  ‘Argh,’ Howie says, giving him a look.

  ‘You said it,’ Clarence mutters.

  ‘Didn’t.’

  ‘Did,’ several people in the back say.

  ‘Ubiquitous England in all its unoriginal glory,’ Paula says.

  ‘I am getting a giant saucepan to put on my head to stop you all invading my mind…everyone out. We’ll go on foot from here.’

  ‘Needs to be lead,’ Clarence says, dropping out then walking around the front to meet Howie.

  ‘What does?’ Howie asks as everyone else moves into position.

  ‘The saucepan, it needs to be lead…’

  ‘You can’t get lead saucepans,’ Paula says, making Howie and Clarence both look at her. ‘What?’ she asks.

  ‘Why aren’t you driving the Saxon?’ Howie asks.

  ‘I fancied a leg stretch. Marcy’s driving. That okay with you two is it?’

  ‘No, get back in the Saxon,’ Howie says.

  ‘Piss off, and no you can’t get lead saucepans and yes, you did say it out loud…what now?’ she asks when they keep staring at her.

  ‘Why can’t you get lead saucepans?’ Clarence asks.

  ‘Er…cos they’d weigh a ton and kill you to death with lead poisoning…’

  ‘Interesting,’ Howie says.

  ‘Fascinating,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Twats, right, Blowers? Ready?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Ready,’ Charlie says, trotting up past the Saxon on Jess.

  ‘Okay, take the front,’ Paula says. ‘Everyone else, range out, eyes up, this is work-time now…Dave, you okay?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Paula,’ Dave says, falling into position between Howie and Clarence who both continue to stare at Paula.

  ‘Good good, okay, move out,’ she says, stepping away as everyone else steps on and the two vehicles start moving while Howie and Clarence share a shrug and a look.

  ‘Paula’s gonna organise them to death,’ Howie whispers, making Clarence chuckle.

  ‘Seven P’s, Mr Howie,’ Paula calls out from in front.

  ‘But seriously,’ Howie says, looking around at the stores and buildings about them. ‘They all look the same…’

  ‘What does?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Towns, they’re all the same. There’s always a Boots, always a Superdrug, always a Greggs and a Costa or a Starbucks or a Nero and a Next and the same shit mass-produced by slaves living in poverty…’

  ‘Someone’s caffeine levels are dropping,’ Paula remarks.

  ‘No, but it is,’ Howie says. ‘We just bought shit and then took shit to the dump when that shit broke and then we bought more shit…’

  ‘Charlie’s signalling,’ Paula says.

  ‘Yeah I can see,’ Howie says, looking at the single female standing in the middle of the road ahead. He turns a circle, nodding to Blowers and the others, confirming they’ve seen it then faces front to see Meredith at Paula’s side, the tips of her fingers gently touching the dog’s head. ‘You’ve got a new best friend there, Paula’

  ‘I have,’ Paula says, smiling down at the dog growling. ‘Been like it since the river.’

  ‘And there it is,’ Clarence says, nodding to the side and the words painted on a patch of wall. ‘He is coming,’ he reads.

  Charlie leads Jess on, going wide around the stationary female. The heavy horse’s feet clip-clopping steadily over the road, her head tossing lightly at the smell of the infected.

  ‘And here we are,’ Howie says, coming to a stop facing the single female infected. ‘We are cruel and you are not cruel and stuff and he is coming and if you even say Blinky’s name I will slit your throat…’

  A pause. ‘Hello, how are you?’ the female infected says, she looks almost normal. Black trousers and a black shirt. Like a waitress or bartender. A scabbed wound on her arm. ‘That is a greeting,’ the infected says into the rather quiet silence.

  ‘A greeting? Well now, indeed, that is a formal introduction to a conversation is it not,’ Reginald says, stopping at Howie’s side. Maddox right behind him.

  ‘Reginald,’ the woman says, the infected says. ‘Howie, Clarence, Dave, Maddox, Paula, Charlie, Blinky is dead…’ she pauses as Howie stiffens. ‘Blowers, Cookey, Nick, Mohammed…’

  ‘S’Mo Mo innit,’ Mo shouts over.

  ‘Marcy, Roy…’ a pause, a look to the new comers. ‘Daniel, Natasha…’

  ‘Yay, we’re famous, Danny,’ Tappy says, earning a few smiles as Danny stands with Blowers, his rifle braced, his head turning to scan and watch.

  Silence.

  ‘Your species is flawed…you kill in the name of false gods and worship money and wealth over the values of life. You make slaves and hurt and cause sufferance. I am many things in many hosts, but I do not do these things…’

  ‘What the actual fuck…’ Howie says, staring at the woman. ‘Are you a super zombie? Is she a super zombie?’ he asks Reginald.

  ‘How would I know?’ Reginald asks. ‘Would you like me to use my invisible super zombie testing kit to find out?’

  ‘I dunno, have you got an invisible super zombie testing kit?’

  ‘The boss’s got a magic fuckstick,’ Cookey calls over.

  ‘No, I do not have one,’ Reginald says. ‘My apologies, what were you saying?’ he asks the woman.

  A pause and the eyes of the infected shift from Howie to Reginald. ‘I know pi.’

  ‘I like pie,’ Nick calls out. ‘What kind is it?’

  ‘I like apple pie,’ Tappy says.

  ‘I was thinking more steak pie,’ Nick says.

  ‘Ooh gotcha, I was going straight into a pudding way of thought but you’re on the main course…’ Tappy says.

  ‘Chicken and gravy is nice,’ Cookey says.

  ‘Oh don’t, I’m starving,’ Blowers says.

  ‘Has it got pie, Mr Howie?’ Nick asks.

  ‘Have you got pie?’ Howie asks. ‘I can’t see a pie,’ he calls back, looking at her empty hands.

  A pause. The woman moving her eyes from each person speaking then back to Reginald.

  ‘Perhaps it means the other form of pi,’ Reginald says. ‘As in P I, rather than P I E.’

  ‘Oh that pi,’ Howie says.

  ‘What pie?’ Nick asks.

  ‘Pi,’ Howie says. ‘In maths.’

  ‘We did that at school,’ Blowers says. ‘Something about a circle.’

  ‘Pie’s are circles,’ Nick says. ‘Nice round chicken pie…’

  ‘Your mum makes nice pies,’ Cookey says. ‘For her special customers…’

  ‘Maybe that’s where pi comes from,’ Nick suggests.

  ‘From your mum?’

  ‘No, you twat. From eating pies…’

  ‘Oh, yeah could be,’ Cookey say. ‘Hmmm, if only we had a super intelligent super pretty super nice lady on a horse we could ask…’

  Charlie smiles to herself, shaking her head
and rolling her eyes while facing ahead.

  ‘If only,’ Nick says wistfully. ‘Wish we had someone like that.’

  ‘Can’t think of anyone,’ Blowers says.

  ‘What about…’ Tappy starts saying, trailing off thoughtfully. ‘Ah no, I was thinking of Roy but he’s not on a horse, and he’s not a girl either…’

  ‘Charlie?’ Cookey calls out in his whisper shout.

  ‘Yes?’ she asks, turning to look at him.

  ‘Do you know a super intelligent super pretty super nice lady on a horse we can ask about pies?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she says, turning to smile at him as another layer from the brick wall she put up is taken down.

  ‘Ah bum,’ he says, grinning that grin, the one that makes her smile. ‘Have to ask you instead then…’

  ‘I guess so,’ she says, twitching the reins to move Jess to buy time to look at Reginald to see the tiniest discreet nod. ‘Pi was originally defined as the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter and was associated with trigonometry and geometry specifically relating to spherical shapes but latterly it was developed and used in many other areas of maths and science…but as to what pi actually is…pi is 3.14159…although the sequence of actual numbers can extend way beyond millions of digits…’

  The woman turns to look at Charlie. The infection staring out. The boy smiling at Cassie fastening his seatbelt in his booster chair and growing still and ageless as Cassie and Gregori get in the front of the Range Rover. Motion in the street in the south and the boy blinks as the host woman is taken down by the dog getting bored.

  ‘We really need a leash,’ Clarence says as they watch Meredith chomp and gnash and snarl and rag.

  ‘I really want a pie now,’ Nick says from behind.

  *

  They walk the length of the town centre. Seeing nothing of note. No infected and no people either. Just empty shops and buildings. Just parked or crashed cars. Just roads and pavements with puddles formed from the light rain.

  Into the vehicles. Snacks eaten. Fluids consumed and energy growing as they go on through a country road to the next place of populace. A hamlet and nothing more. A collection of old houses once used to house farm workers before farms became unworkable.