Meadowside

  “That’s what I were needing help with. Any idea what to do?”

  Kylie thought back to a childbirth video she had been forced to watch in biology at school. It was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen, far worse than any horror movie. One girl had even fainted, another swore she would never have sex with anyone ever again for as long as she lived. Kylie suspected that was the reason they were shown the video, in an attempt to cut down on the number of pregnancies at the school. But what had they done after the baby was born? She remembered them wrapping it in a big towel, but what happened to the umbilical cord? Kylie couldn’t remember if they showed that part or not before the camera cut away to the afterbirth scene. That was even more gross, like a huge slab of raw meat being squeezed out of the woman’s privates.

  “Well?” Smiffy asked. “What do we do?”

  Kylie looked between the woman’s legs, but she couldn’t see any signs of afterbirth.

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I think there’s another bit still inside her that needs to come out first?”

  Smiffy grunted and bent down to the woman. He picked up the umbilical cord trailing out of her vagina and tugged on it. His hands slipped along its length, unable to gain any grip on its slippery surface. He wrapped the cord around his fingers and tried again, but with no success. The cord stretched, but stubbornly refused to come out of the woman’s vagina. Smiffy dropped the umbilical cord and sighed, then took the baby from Kylie and pulled on that instead. The baby screamed, thrashing its tiny arms and legs.

  “Stop, you’re hurting it,” Kylie shouted.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Smiffy said, handing the baby back to Kylie. “We have to get it off her somehow.”

  Kylie cradled the baby and rocked it as it continued screaming. Smiffy picked up the chainsaw and thumbed its ignition switch.

  “Stretch it out again,” he shouted as he revved the chainsaw, “I’ll have to cut the fucker off.”

  Kylie stepped back a few paces, holding the baby upright before her in both hands, hoping this was the right thing to do. When the umbilical cord was stretched out tight, Smiffy gripped it in one hand, about six inches away from the end attached to the baby. He glanced at Kylie, nodded, then raised the chainsaw to the umbilical cord. It ripped through with ease and twanged back toward the woman’s vagina like a striking snake. Kylie stumbled a few steps before she righted herself, then looked down at the baby. She had expected the umbilical cord to be gushing blood like a hosepipe, but only a few small drops formed where it had been severed. She squeezed the end of the cord between her thumb and forefinger to stop the bleeding. It felt soft and squishy, slightly warm, and not at all how she imagined it would.

  Smiffy glanced at the baby, then kicked a few boxes out of his way and went back into the shop.

  “Well come on then, kid,” he said, “let’s get fucked off. Them zombie bastards won’t kill themselves, will they?”

  Kylie looked around the store room for a clean blanket to wrap the baby in, then followed him out.

  16

  Kylie didn’t know what she was supposed to do with the baby. Smiffy didn’t seem to care, he was more interested in killing crazies than anything else and did so with relish as soon as they got close enough. The baby cried constantly, and ignored all Kylie’s attempts to soothe it. This attracted more and more crazies for Smiffy to hack to pieces, so it seemed odd to Kylie that he would keep yelling at the baby to shut the fuck up.

  “I think it might be hungry,” Kylie said.

  “Well feed it then,” Smiffy yelled above the roar of the chainsaw as he slashed through another crazy.

  “What with?”

  “How the fuck should I know? Milk or something.”

  “I think we should take it to that police woman, she’ll know what to do.”

  Smiffy finished off the crazy and turned to look at Kylie. His brow furrowed. “What police woman?”

  “Didn’t you hear the message, saying everyone should make their way upstairs?”

  Smiffy shrugged. “Nah, must have been busy killing zombies at the time. So where is she then?”

  “She’s got everyone locked inside The House of Fun until the rest of the police arrive.”

  Smiffy laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Bunch of fucking cowards when they’re on their own, but when they’re mob-handed they’ll crack your head open just for looking at them funny. Listen kid, I wouldn’t waste your time on some fucking copper, they’re all thick as pig shit.” Smiffy laughed again. “Pig shit, get it?”

  Kylie frowned. “My friends are there too. Mike and Britney. They’re all I’ve got now that–” her voice trailed off into a sob as she thought about Tom.

  Smiffy sighed, then nodded. He clapped a hand on Kylie’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Friends are important, and you should be with them. So where’s this House of Fun place then?”

  Kylie led the way through the shopping centre, back the way they had come. As they approached the escalator she had helped board up with Tom and the four men they had met she gasped. The escalator’s glass sides were awash with blood, the steps littered with the bodies of fallen crazies. But the makeshift barrier at the top had been torn down, giving the remaining crazies easy access to the upper floor. Of those there was no sign, but shouts and screams coming from the direction of The House of Fun told Kylie everything she needed to know.

  “We need to get up there quick,” she yelled.

  Smiffy nodded grimly. He walked up to the escalator and stepped over the statue lying at its base. He almost lost his footing as he slipped on something, and grabbed the handrail to steady himself. Several corpses lay in his way, and he had no choice but to climb over them to reach the next clear step. He hooked the chainsaw over the side of the escalator and clung on to the opposite handrail as he stepped onto the first body. The body rolled under his weight and he swore as he tried to regain his balance, his feet slipping from beneath him. Once he was on firm ground again he tossed the chainsaw a few steps further up and held onto the handrails with both hands until he reached it. Then he tossed it a bit further and continued his assent to the top, where he turned and waited for Kylie.

  Kylie climbed gingerly over the first corpse. She clung to the handrail with her leading hand and inched her way sideways up the escalator with the baby held firmly to her chest. She knew she couldn’t afford to stumble, that she would crush the baby if she did, just like the woman who had attacked Britney had crushed hers when Tom pushed her over. Smiffy held out his hand for her as she neared the top, and helped her climb over the last of the bodies. He held her hand for several seconds longer than he needed to, grinning at her, until Kylie snatched her hand away. She hurried to The House of Fun, dreading what she would find there, closely followed by Smiffy.

  Kylie’s worst fears were realised when she saw a huge mob of hissing and snarling crazies surrounding the play area entrance. They spilled out to cover the entire walkway for several metres in both directions, and fought amongst themselves to reach the small doorway. The door itself seemed to be loose, and buckled wildly as several crazies pushed against it.

  At the opposite side to where Kylie and Smiffy approached The House of Fun, a large group of men and women attacked the outer fringe of the crazies with makeshift weapons. They clubbed them with baseball bats, stabbed them with carving knives, hacked at them with axes and shovels, shattered their skulls with hammers. One heavily-built man wearing a motorcycle crash helmet and full body leathers even fought bare-handed. He wrestled a crazy to the ground, smashed out its teeth using the metal-plated knuckle protectors of his leather gloves, then lifted it above his head and hurled it over the balcony. The crazy hissed while it fell, its hands grasping upwards, then landed with a crack as its head split open on impact with the wooden flooring below.

  “Skumfuckers!” Smiffy yelled, and ran at the crazies with his chainsaw roaring.

  A few crazies turned and looked in his direction, the
n hissed as one. Smiffy thrust the chainsaw into the face of one, and kicked out at another. His boot struck the crazy on the knee and snapped its leg. As the crazy lurched to one side Smiffy wrenched the chainsaw out of the first crazy’s ruined face and swung it down into the second crazy’s neck. It sliced through with ease and the crazy fell, showering those nearby with arterial blood, its head lopping to one side. Some of the crazies ignored the commotion, too eager to reach the doorway before them. Others turned and hissed, then stumbled toward Smiffy with their arms outstretched.

  Smiffy swung the chainsaw before him, back and forth in a wide arc, slicing through crazies as they approached him. Grasping hands were severed. Stomachs were torn open, spilling foul-smelling intestines at his feet. Child-size crazies were decapitated. Blood and gore flew from the chainsaw’s spinning blades like strawberry jelly. Smiffy laughed as crazies toppled and fell all around him, forming a barrier between him and the remaining crazies around the doorway. He kicked and stamped on their bodies when he looked down and saw they were still moving, climbed over them when they lay still, all the while his chainsaw slashing at those standing before him.

  The other fighters were also making good progress with their makeshift weapons, but their advancement through the crowd of crazies was nowhere near as fast as Smiffy’s. Those with blunt weapons bludgeoned the crazies unconscious, then followed the motorcyclist’s lead and tossed them over the balcony. Those with sharper implements hacked and slashed, leaving bodies where they fell.

  The door to The House of Fun gave way and dozens of crazies surged inside. Frantic cries of fear turned into screams of agony as people were torn apart and devoured.

  Smiffy and the other fighters, all drenched in blood and gore, made for the doorway together, slashing at crazies as they went. Kylie was worried that Smiffy, in his blind killing frenzy, would attack the other fighters, but he seemed to sense they were on his side and lowered his chainsaw just as they came within reach of its spinning blades.

  Smiffy rushed through the door first, shouting his Skumfuckers battle cry, closely followed by most of the other fighters. Kylie heard the chainsaw slicing through flesh, grating against bone, the sound of axes hacking through flesh. A few of the fighters remained outside and finished off any crazies who were still rolling around trying to get back up despite their injuries. One of the fighters startled when he saw Kylie standing nearby, and raised a blood-stained baseball bat defensively. His eyes widened when he saw the baby cradled in her arms, and his mouth hung open. He turned away when an injured crazy lying on its back hissed up at him, and slammed the baseball bat down into its face.

  Smiffy’s chainsaw slowed to an idle, then stopped altogether. Kylie heard shouts from inside the play area, a woman’s voice telling them to lower their weapons. Kylie weaved around the dead crazies littering the balcony and splashed through their blood to make her way to the entrance, desperate to be reunited with Mike and Britney.

  Smiffy walked out of the play area, grinning. The hand with the scarf tied around it was clenched in a fist and raised before him in a sign of victory, the silent chainsaw held by his side. He winked at Kylie as he splashed past her, then leaned against the balcony and faced the doorway while several ashen-faced people walked out.

  The first was the police woman, who ordered everyone to put their weapons down. She was followed by an elderly man and woman in their mid-sixties, and a young girl not much older than seven or eight, accompanied by a woman Kylie assumed was the girl’s mother. A few more walked out, some with minor injuries.

  Kylie stood staring at the doorway, willing Mike and Britney to walk through it. She shouted their names when they didn’t appear, and when nobody else came out she ran to the opening.

  Inside, the entrance to the play area was awash with the bloodied remains of dismembered crazies and their fallen, partially-consumed victims. More bodies lay beyond them, lying near the walls among splinters of broken furniture they had tried to hide behind. A few of the remaining fighters were crouched over them, searching for survivors, their weapons abandoned.

  “Mike! Britney! Where are you?” Kylie yelled.

  One of the fighters, his face drenched in blood, looked up and locked eyes with Kylie. The body he was crouched before gave out a gurgling groan.

  “Kylie?” he said with a shaking voice.

  “Tom!” Kylie yelled, and rushed into the play area.

  “No, wait there,” Tom said.

  Kylie hesitated, then stepped gingerly between the corpses, looking down so she wouldn’t lose her footing in the slippery mess. Once she was past them she looked up at Tom. He had his hands around someone’s neck, blood spurting between his fingers.

  “Tom, who–” Kylie’s voice trailed off when she saw patches of pink between the splashes of blood covering the girl’s clothing. “Britney? BRITNEY!” She rushed forward and knelt by her side. “Oh god, Britney!”

  Britney’s eyes flickered open. Her breath came in a rasping gurgle. Most of her nose was missing, the rest of her face a mass of raw, torn flesh. Blood bubbled from between Tom’s fingers as she exhaled.

  “What do we do?” Kylie asked, frantic.

  Tom shook his head slowly. Tears rolled down his face. “I’m sorry Kylie, it’s too late for that.”

  “No, it can’t be,” Kylie said, rising to her feet. I’ll go and get that police woman, she’ll know what to do.”

  “You need to say goodbye. It’s too late for anything else, she hasn’t got long left.”

  Kylie looked down at Britney as she gave out a final, rasping breath. Her eyes stared up, unseeing. Kylie dropped to her knees, the baby cradled in one arm. Tom wiped his bloody hands on his tracksuit bottoms and reached out to embrace her. Kylie sobbed into his chest, not caring about the sticky blood smeared there.

  She broke away when the baby pressed between them started crying again. “Where’s Mike?” she asked. But the look on Tom’s face told her everything she needed to know. She melted back into his arms and he held her tight.

  Outside, the police woman shouted for everyone’s attention. Kylie raised her head and looked at Tom.

  “We’d best go and see what she wants,” he said softly, and pulled Kylie to her feet. He opened a fold of the baby’s blanket and peered at its face. The baby gurgled up at him, oblivious to the horror around it. Tom wiped his nose and attempted a smile, but it seemed forced. “Come on then, Kylie.”

  As they left The House of Fun Kylie saw the police woman surrounded by dozens of people, their weapons discarded as they listened to what she had to say. Only Smiffy seemed uninterested, and leaned over the balcony looking down, the chainsaw propped up by his feet.

  “The police or the army will be here to sort thing out soon,” the police woman said, “so until they get here this is what we’re going to do. It might take them a few days to reach us, so we may need to take emergency supplies from some of the shops while we wait. We’ll keep a record of anything we take so the shop owners can be reimbursed at a later date. I’ll also need a list of everyone’s names and addresses, so that–”

  “Fuck that,” Smiffy said, turning toward her and shaking his head. He pushed himself away from the balcony and stepped forward. “Who the fuck put you in charge, lady? The way I see it, we just saved your fucking life so that means we tell you what to do, not the other way round.” He pushed his way through the crowd, nudging people out of the way until he stood before the police woman.

  “I’m a police officer. In a state of emergency like this I have the power to–”

  Smiffy lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck with one hand. “Lady, I don’t give a fuck what you are,” he said with a sneer, “I’m in charge here, not you.”

  The police woman’s eyes bulged. Her tongue lolled from her mouth as she gasped for air. She grasped at Smiffy’s hand and kicked out at his ankles, squirming to free herself from his grip. Smiffy punched her in the face with his free hand, then punched her again. Her eyes rolled up in thei
r sockets and her arms fell limp by her sides.

  Someone tried to pull Smiffy off her, shouting for him to let her go. Smiffy backhanded the man and sent him spinning away. He dragged the police woman by the neck up to the balcony and pushed her back against it, then punched her in the face again a few more times. Still holding her by the neck with one hand, he bent down and crooked his other arm under her knees, then lifted her onto the balcony’s edge and hurled her over. She fell silently, tumbling through the air, and landed in a tangled heap of splayed arms and legs.

  Smiffy nodded to himself, then spat over the balcony at the crumpled body below. He turned to face the shocked crowd, who were edging away from him. He rubbed his hands together and smiled.

  “Right then, this is what we’re really going to do.”

  A man picked up an axe and raised it above his head, then ran at Smiffy with a roar. Smiffy spun to face him, his fists raised. His eyes widened when he saw the axe hurtling toward him. He raised his hands to protect his face and the axe thudded into his chest, shattering through his ribcage. Smiffy fell to his knees, staring down at the axe embedded in his chest, the blood pouring down its wooden handle. He looked up at the man who had put it there with a confused look, then toppled forward.

  Kylie turned away and reached out for Tom. He held her tight and she hoped he would never let go.

  Epilogue

  Kylie sat on a luxury leather sofa near the war memorial statue, watching Tom and Britney playing together in the dim emergency lighting. Expensive toys of all kinds were scattered everywhere, but Britney favoured the small die-cast cars and green plastic soldiers she had found in a bargain bin several months ago. She stood the soldiers in a line, then ran them over with the cars. When they were all knocked over she would stand them up again and start over. This was the only game Britney had played since finding the soldiers, her other toys lying forgotten all around her. Kylie had asked her once why she had stopped playing with her other toys.