by Colley, Ryan
Our journey took us towards a motorway. I couldn’t tell you which one, I just knew we were heading that way. Names weren’t important anymore. Who cared what some petty human designation had been given to a strip of tarmac? All I knew was that it led to the potential safety of a motel and, eventually, we could use it to keep heading north – that was if the roads weren’t clogged with abandoned cars. And the farther we went, the fewer suburbs we saw and more countryside grew around us. The only constant was the road. Keith read directions to me and I followed them, only needing to turn back on myself once. In the pre-apocalypse, that would have meant looking for a way to loop back around – probably by taking three right turns until I was back to where I made the mistake. Post-apocalypse meant just making a sharp turn in the middle of the road. The end of the world definitely helped with congestion. Or so I thought.
One thing which became more noticeable the closer we got to the motorway was the number of flies in the air. Sure it was summer, and there were undead everywhere, so flies could be expected. However, the number of cars scattered around increased as well. Some looked like they’d been abandoned mid-journey, doors still open. Others had undead clearly in the vehicle – trapped by their inability to operate the doors. Some looked as though their inhabitants had been dragged from the vehicle, shattered glass and blood everywhere. Others looked like they’d been stripped of any supplies, a clear and methodical removal of belongings. Either way, people had tried to escape on foot.
“Doesn’t look good,” Keith muttered, surveying the area. He looked at the map again and said, “Take a right.”
I took the right, going along the slip-road to join the motorway. I crawled along at a comfortable speed, with no one around to be wary of, and onto the motorway. Or, I would have if it wasn’t for what we saw.
In nearly every apocalypse or disaster movie, there’s a scene where the roads are backed up for miles by unmoving cars in every direction. The only reason the cars seem to stop is that you physically cannot see any further into the horizon. It’s a classic scene. That exact image, which I hadn’t seen once on my journey … well, there was a first time for everything.
Rounding the shrubbery, which kept the motorway from view until we were ready to merge revealed the standstill. It was an ocean of vehicles. There were even cars in front of me on the slip-road which never made it onto the motorway either. Like we never would.
“Where are all the people?” Kirsty gasped, surveying the scene. It was madness.
“Dead? Ran away? Who knows …” Keith replied and, for once, he seemed shocked by what he saw.
There was no way to cross the lanes of cars to get to the other side, which is where the motel was. Perhaps we could get there on foot? That would mean leaving the van behind. The night was closing in and we needed somewhere to stay. We could come back for the van in the morning – it wasn’t like it would be an obstruction. I needed to make a decision.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” I told my companions before climbing out, taking my machete and binoculars. They tried to call after me for the clarification, but I ignored them – I would only be a second.
I did the short jog down to the first lane of cars, watching for movement around me. I dipped my head out between the rows of cars, looking up and down the road in either direction for any undead. It was clear for the moment. I walked further until I found a Land Rover-like vehicle and climbed on top of it – I needed something tall. The vehicle was empty, with the doors shut and nothing within. The ocean of metal was bound to be full of useful supplies – stuff abandoned by those who were no longer alive. If I had time, I would have loved to go through each and every one. It could be a gold mine of survival, especially if it was packed by those intending to survive. Or just as easily a tomb for unsuspecting looters.
While contemplating the hidden treasures around me, I used the binoculars to survey the surrounding area. What I first noticed had been true, there were cars as far as my binoculars could see. I looked north, towards our destination, and noticed the cars seemed to be in a considerably better condition than those behind me. The ones to my back had shattered windows and dented panelling. There was dried blood on and around the vehicles. Corpses lay in the road, undead in the cars. Supplies were everywhere, still in the cars and odd items dropped in the road. But the cars in front of me were the complete opposite. Mostly undamaged, cleared of supplies and fewer undead still in the vehicles. Even the car doors were shut. The people in front had time to adjust to whatever was happening behind them. They’d had time to get out their vehicles, take their stuff, lock their cars and run. The ones behind looked as though they were caught unaware. The undead wouldn’t have need to damage the cars in front if the people had already escaped.
I continued inspecting the cars in the distance, the ones heading north. For the briefest of moments, I could have sworn I saw movement. I adjusted the binoculars and had my fear realised. Figures were stumbling about among the cars. Further again was a huge congregation of the undead. Many had branched off from the main group and were wandering. Luckily, they were a long distance away and wouldn’t have been able to spot me. We were safe for the moment, but I couldn’t say the same for whatever had originally caused them to gather. Nonetheless, and whatever the reason, I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in a motel with so many undead nearby – let alone trying to get to it. It would only take a few undead wandering too far and catching sight of us and we’d be trapped when the rest followed. We were done there. I let go of the binoculars and let them hang by the strap from my neck and casually hopped down from the Land Rover.
On landing, I stumbled a little and fell forwards. Mentally, I berated myself. No one wanted a twisted ankle, and that would be such a stupid way to get myself killed. I was so damn clumsy! However, a twisted ankle I didn’t have. I managed to catch my balance by throwing my arm at the car immediately in front of me in the next lane. I laughed and sighed with relief at my recovery. There was a momentary breather where I was able to appreciate how lucky I was, and then all hell broke loose.
The car I’d caught my balance on was an extremely expensive sports car. The sort of car which would cause envy amongst those who loved them. Regardless, the car which supported me was top of the range and, as with all cars of that calibre, it came with a top of the range security system. One which would sound at the smallest contact. One which did sound at my contact. A loud and mentally jarring whine emitted from the vehicle. I jolted back from the car, irritated by the disruptive noise. Imagine having that outside your house at night! Then the cogs began to turn in my head. Why were the undead gathered there? Sound. Sound drew the undead towards places. With so many cars around, alarms could go off with the smallest amount of encouragement. I quickly pulled up the binoculars again and stared through them. I saw the undead, hundreds of them, running towards the alarm. More importantly, running towards me!
“Dammit,” I cursed. Turning around and sprinting back the way I’d come. I wasn’t waiting to see what would happen. I knew what was going to happen if I waited. I didn’t want to be around to experience it. I could hear the stampede of feet pounding the tarmac. Alarm after alarm being set off by the undead as they hit and bounced off other cars. That wasn’t enough to distract them though. In their one-track mind, they had a destination and it was me.
The others saw something was wrong by the look on my face as I got nearer – I didn’t even need to say anything. I saw Kirsty shift to the driver’s seat and turn on the engine. I wrenched the door open and climbed in.
“Drive!” I demanded, breathing heavily – not just from the minor exertion, but from the heat thick in the air. Kirsty didn’t even question me, she changed gear from first and into reverse, and we sped backwards. We rounded the corner and out of sight as I saw the swarm of undead wash over and surround the cars behind us – over where I’d been. My presence was forgotten. As always, the undead didn’t make the mental leap that something had caused the car alarm. We were out
of sight, which meant out of mind.
“So?” Kirsty finally questioned as we drove farther away.
“There was a lot of undead,” I replied simply.
“Really?” Kirsty retorted sarcastically. “I thought traffic was so bad that it scared you into running!! I meant, so what now?”
“Well, the motorway is a no go. We can’t use it as a direct route north,” I replied, thinking about our predicament.
“If only someone had warned against using the motorway,” Keith exclaimed, equally sarcastically. I ignored him.
“Maybe think a little more in the present Sam,” Kirsty admonished me. “What are we doing tonight?”
“The whole point of the motel was because it was out of the way and we could still access the motorway. Neither option is now viable,” I said, more to myself, sounding out the current situation. I looked at the sun which was now making its descent. “There’s bound to be something nearby. We can still make it, but we’ll have to double back on ourselves.”
“I just want a bed for the night,” Stephanie said, sounding exasperated, finally breaking her long silence.
“Doubling back it is,” I decided. Something about the way Stephanie spoke convinced me. There was a desperation in her voice – she needed it.
CHAPTER 26
It didn’t take Keith long to find somewhere for the night. A small group of houses on the utmost edge of the suburbs. We were on the edge of civilization … or so it would have seemed to anyone living there. A long way from anywhere important. A peaceful existence. It would be perfect for us – if it was empty of the living or the dead. Keith directed Kirsty, and I was simply thankful for a break from the wheel. Most importantly, Stephanie had a small smile curving the corners of her mouth. Things would be good. We continued to stick to smaller roads, especially as our only attempt at a bigger one ended so unsuccessfully. It was the right decision of course – we didn’t see another vehicle, human, or zombie along the way.
I didn’t know what to expect when it came to our home for the night. A small bunch of houses out in the sticks? A farmhouse or two? I’d had enough of farmhouses for a lifetime. What I didn’t expect was a grouping of, what was basically, recently built mansions. We’d driven up a hidden lane, which opened into a field where five mansions circled the road. It was like a suburb of upper-class American housing. Each had solar panels on the roof, which hopefully meant power! Model housing if I’d ever seen it – nothing would have been out of place if we’d visited pre-apocalypse. Post-apocalypse meant the grass was knee-high and the bushes were all overgrown. Yet, the houses remained impeccable.
“I want that one,” I said, pointing to the one at the end of the road and directly in front of us.
“Then I get that one,” Keith replied, pointing to the right and smiling. It was all wishful thinking of course, we’d be staying in the same house for security.
Kirsty pulled up to the end house and reversed the van onto the monstrously large and intricately paved driveway. We all climbed out and approached the front door. All of us, except Keith, were armed to the teeth. Stephanie had the shotgun, I had the SA80, and Kirsty the machete and other SA80.
“Do we knock?” I asked anxiously as we approached the door. Light was fading fast and I didn’t want to be out in the open any longer than I needed to be. We couldn’t just stay out there, no matter how isolated it was. Kirsty, making the decision for the group, just banged the door a few times before trying the handle. The door swung inwards without any resistance.
“Guess not,” Keith shrugged as we all entered the house slowly.
As we entered, the lights flickered to life and soft music played from a speaker. A smart system? How fancy! Despite the size, the mansion was only a single-storey with vaulted ceilings. It gave the building the feel of grandeur.
The house was very minimalist in its layout, with very few walls to separate the rooms. From the entrance, I could see the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room. There were doors around the edge of the open-plan room – probably the bedrooms and bathroom. No, more than likely multiple bathrooms. There was no way a house that big only had one bathroom. Casual peasants the owners were not. However, even with the overwhelming grandness, I noticed something else that even money could not help you escape from. A distinct smell.
“Zombies,” I muttered, wrinkling my nose. I could see the others had smelt it too.
“Can I just ask one favour of everyone?” Kirsty asked, looking at us all.
“Uh, sure?” I said puzzled.
“Can we please kill them outside? I don’t want this house stinking of rot while we stay here,” Kirsty said, almost begging.
“I think that goes without saying,” Keith nodded. “I know how to deal with this.”
We’d positioned ourselves in the way Keith had suggested in his plan. Stephanie was at one of the bedroom doors, Keith was at the front door, and Kirsty and I were outside. Keith held a kitchen knife he’d found and the Benelli hung loosely from Stephanie. The one rule we had was not to fire a single shot unless absolutely necessary. No noise, minimal mess. The plan needed absolute precision and timing if we were going to pull it off.
“Think this will work?” Kirsty asked me as we stood in the silent night air. She turned to look at me and added, “Keith seemed confident about it.”
“Confidence doesn’t equate success,” I replied sourly, then added with a smile, “My dating life would have been a lot better if it did.”
“I didn’t ever have much confidence at school,” Kirsty replied. There was an almost-roar from inside. Kirsty sighed, lifted the machete and braced herself. I took a few steps back and levelled the SA80 towards the front door.
I then said with a smile, “Confidence was never my issue, it was tact.”
I stared down the scope of the SA80, finger hovering over the trigger. I was insurance should anything go wrong. Keith ducked through the doorway and hid to the side of it, just out of sight of anyone inside. Moments later, an undead man came out of the house. He was tall, nude, and had a nasty facial wound. He momentarily stopped, looked at us, before charging again. It could have just as easily been that the zombie had forgotten why he was at the door until he saw us, consistent with the one-track mind idea. However, for the briefest of moments, he looked as though he looking for someone. Was he aware that he was hunting something? I couldn’t tell, I could have been reading too much into it. I mentally flagged that for later, something to think back on. The way he charged forward made me doubt that he had any form of cognition at all. Undead behaviour could be so inconsistent!
As the zombie moved at us, my finger crept closer and closer to the trigger, but Keith’s warning of no shooting came to mind. I let my finger hover there but didn’t squeeze it. The zombie kept coming until it was just at arm’s reach from Kirsty. Like a guillotine, her arm snapped sideways in one swift uninterrupted motion. The machete blade passed just below the dead man’s lower jaw and through the neck. Its body ceased to function as the head fell away, causing it to just collapse in a heap. The head rolled away and come to stop in the grass.
“Guess Keith’s confidence paid off after all!” Kirsty said with a grin. She had flecks of gore-spattered across her. Just tiny chunks of it. I think I preferred fresh zombies – at least fresh blood was easy to wipe away.
“Of course it did!” Keith called over to us with a smile. “Who wants round two?”
Keith’s plan had been so simple and straightforward, yet had so much potential to go wrong, relying on the one-track mind of the undead. Stephanie had swung one bedroom door open and stood to the side of that door, out of sight. The zombie would charge out and then see Keith at the front door, who it would then charge at. Keith would then do the same and duck out of the door. Then the zombie would see Kirsty and me, and Kirsty would kill the zombie. I was the backup should she miss her first swing. It was dangerous for Kirsty, but it wouldn’t do us any good to clear the house of undead with gunfire, only to b
e surrounded in the night by zombies drawn to the noise. Fortunately, it worked.
We repeated the process for two more rooms, only one of which had another zombie in it. By the time we’d cleared every room, we had two dead zombies on the front lawn and three bedrooms free for the night. Admittedly, we had to open the windows to air the house of the dead stink, but beds were beds! I mean, we actually had beds! I couldn’t believe it.
“I feel like I haven’t watched TV in forever,” Stephanie said softly.
“I doubt there’s anything on,” I answered, going through each drawer. I looked up to see her thumbing through the film collection. “Anything good?”
“Big Disney fan,” she replied, referring to herself and the prior owner. There was a small smile on her face, something I hadn’t seen properly in so long. “All my favourites.”
I looked around for the others. Keith was stripping the bedrooms of everything he could. The stench, as it always did, seemed to seep into and permeate everything. Kirsty was washing and drying every surface in each room as fast as she could. Anything to make the room fresh enough to sleep in.
“Do you want to watch one of the films?” I asked Stephanie, it would be a great opportunity to talk to her. “Later that is.”
“I would like that, yeah,” she nodded with a growing smile. She looked at me and held up one of the films which had a female hero on the front, “This one.”
“Perfect,” I said nodding before going back to the task at hand.
There wasn’t much of use. There was nothing I could take with me, few odd cans of food but nothing major. They did have a fantastic painkiller collection – pots and pots of the stuff. All prescription. Either the person had a serious illness or an addiction. I put them all in a neat line on the countertop.