by Monroe, Kady
The gates were still clear and the key appeared to be the right size for the lock. Her heart pounded with hope as she tried her luck. The key turned and clicked. Jenny wanted to jump for joy, but instead, leaving the key where it was for the moment, she pulled one gate towards her. Its hinges squeaked a little. She held her breath and waited. When nothing responded to the noise, she slipped through the gap and surveyed the street, then let her breath back out. The area was zombie free.
Locking the gate and securing the key in her jeans pocket, Jenny turned right and shadowed the wall. The day before, the dead had obscured the view of the road, but with them gone, she saw the turnoff. The new road advanced along the same side of the building as the corridor inside.
At the corner, she checked the way ahead and once again found nothing to worry about. Where did the zombies go? But as long as they weren’t chasing her, then it didn’t matter. She entered the street and hurried along. On the opposite side of the road, sat another similar building with straight flat walls and nowhere to hide if the dead came back.
Jenny turned right at the next corner and entered an unoccupied street where the residential houses she’d spied earlier were. Yet, signs of the disaster which scoured the region, clearly showed here.
Crossing the road to a property with an open door and a decaying Halloween pumpkin on the doorstep, she saw no blood inside the vestibule. Therefore crept forward noting the carpet by the entrance was rain-soaked. Jenny took one step at a time and paused after each one. The hall was light and airy with a beige hard-wearing carpet on the floor and pale green walls. The glossy woodwork bore a bright coat of white paint, and a slim wooden side table sat against the right-hand wall. On it, unopened envelopes lay abandoned next to a half-melted pillar candle.
The place was silent as she moved forward another pace. Jenny glanced over her shoulder to confirm nothing approached the front of the house. If she was going to check the rest of the place, it would bother her if the door remained open, therefore she closed it quietly.
Back at the side table, she examined the house layout. A wooden staircase stood on the left. To the right, an open door. The length of the hall led to the kitchen. The door arch reminded her of Sophie’s house. Deciding the upstairs could wait she went to the first door.
The living room was in good order. More importantly, it was devoid of occupants. It ran the full length of the house, and the back housed a dining space which brought back a disturbing memory of Jack’s house where her group, unfortunately, discovered his zombie dad. Shuddering, she left the room and headed to the kitchen.
On the way, Jenny checked an under-stairs cupboard, which housed the electricity fuse box and meter. Boxes, shoes, and stuffed carrier bags lay stacked on the floor. She decided, all being well, that she would investigate them later. The kitchen contained nothing out of the ordinary and the space was neat and tidy. Jenny made sure the undamaged kitchen door was locked, then saw a block of carving knives. She grabbed the biggest one and headed back to the staircase.
The landing at the top of the stairs held no surprises. The house conformed to a standard design with a closed attic hatch above her head. Two doors led from the upper hall to bedrooms and another to a bathroom. They all stood open. Jenny did a quick reconnaissance of each room. Relieved on finding them empty, she used the bathroom and eyed the bath. Her fingers traced along the cool metal of the enamel, imagining the hot water and scented steam soaking away her aches and pains. Jenny sighed and returned downstairs.
Now, having established the place was safe, she engaged the Chub lock on the front door and went to locate some food. She lowered the kitchen’s door and window blinds which were of thin, light flowery fabric, therefore didn’t block out much light. Jenny examined the cooker next and blew out a breath of air. The hob and oven needed electricity to run; so there was no chance of a hot meal. Her search of the cupboards revealed the usual items which included canned food and two bottles of soda drinks. A quick search revealed a tin opener, allowing her to help herself to a tin of cold vegetable soup and then a can of tuna chunks. Finishing her meal with a glass of lemonade, Jenny went into the living room.
She approached the window and peeked out and saw no sign of anyone moving about. Jenny lowered the blind there too, but stopped its fall a half-inch above the window sill, and did the same to the farthest window so she could peer out, hopefully unnoticed.
At the centre of the right-hand wall, were some framed photographs adorning a wooden sideboard. They depicted a smiling couple at various stages of their relationship. The pair looked happy together. No children were apparent in the photos, a fact which Jenny already guessed as the smaller bedroom upstairs was set up as an office. Where were these people now? Just one more question without an answer.
Moving back to the cupboard in the hall, she dragged out a cardboard box. It was full of paperback books. Pushing it aside, Jenny pulled another one out. After rummaging in the plastic carrier bags for a few minutes, they too got piled next to the boxes. At the very back, lying up against the wall, Jenny found an empty black rucksack. Well, that’s a start, she thought. She started to replace all the other items back in the cupboard, then paused when she heard something. Turning her head towards the front door and listening, she detected the sound of an engine. No, not one engine, a few. The raw powerful sound of motorbikes. She stood up and stayed still. The gnawing feeling in her gut was active.
As the noise got closer, Jenny crept back into the living room and crouched down by the window and spied through the gap under the blind. In no time the noise became a roar and now she could detect the shouts and hollers of the riders. They seemed to be in good spirits, enjoying themselves.
Seconds later the first three bikes went by. The riders wore helmets and padded layers of heavy clothes. Jenny noticed a chain stretched out behind each of the bikes and became horrified to see each one dragged a naked zombie, or at least, what remained of them.
Whether they had been male or female was impossible to tell. The bodies left a trail of black gore behind them on the road. Jenny felt sick as the bodies bumped and twisted on the hard surface which flayed more skin and bone off as the bikes progressed at speed. And as soon as they passed, the next bikes appeared, also with bodies chained behind them. She saw one zombie raise its skeleton arm in the air as if waving for attention. Jenny saw the creature’s scraped arm and shoulder bones, all the skin having been eradicated by the constant unforgiving ground. Even though Jenny knew they were dead and dangerous, it didn’t make the sight easier to stomach. Her recent meal was in danger of coming back up.
Thirty seconds later, the sound of the bikers receded into the distance. Jenny could only be thankful the riders showed no interest in the houses or in stopping. Only the gory mess in the road would be all that was left of them in another few seconds. Jenny took deep breaths and leant against the wall. It seemed idiotic to her that the first survivors she saw were the kind she definitely wanted to avoid. Good people had died, but regrettably, some morons avoided the cull.
From outside came an expected sound. Moaning. The bikers might be long gone, but a large party of corpses followed. This meant she was stuck in the house until they all passed.
As long as she was quiet and didn’t get spotted then everything would probably be okay. Thinking of noise that might betray her presence, Jenny did a quick search for a landline phone. Finding one mounted on the kitchen wall she unplugged it, not wanting a call from some random automated company trying to sell their wares.
With time to kill, Jenny took the rucksack and stowed some canned food inside along with one bottle of soda. Going upstairs she looked through the bedroom wardrobes and drawers, gaining some much needed clean clothes.
The woman who owned the house was a size bigger than Jenny but the clothes weren’t overly baggy or girlie. She chose dark practical garments and added a few extras to her bag. The bathroom gained her some toiletries and basic medications. The new possessions made her feel be
tter about getting going again. Now all she had to do was wait out the zombies and try to figure out her next move.
While waiting for the crowd to lumber past, Jenny searched for any more useful items. When done, she was pleased to have a penlight torch with spare batteries, a box of matches and two screwdrivers. Plus, her new best friend, a hammer. She put the matches in a clear plastic food bag and squirrelled them away in the rucksack with her other finds.
In the living room, Jenny sat back against the window wall, wrapped in the duvet from the bed and sitting on a cushion procured from the sofa. Now and again, she took a quick glance outside to observe the procession’s progress.
It was frightening to see how many of them shambled out there. The horde trundled onwards in slow stunted motion. None of them came to a willing stop. Although seeing a few of them fall over and be trampled by the others became a common sight. Eventually, the trodden ones got back to their feet and rejoin the march. On one of her many zombie update glances, Jenny noticed the little car parked in a drive two doors down.
Having entered the first house with an open door, she couldn’t recall if the house where the car was parked had been open or not. The car appeared to be an older model silver Mini. And from the look of it, the owner took good care of the vehicle.
An idea formed in her mind. How hard could it be to drive a little car like that? If anyone asked her if she could drive Jenny would say no. Which she considered the truth. But a few years ago she took one driving lesson and had meant to continue with them. But her circumstances changed, and she never got back to it. She remembered the basic stuff, three pedals and a gear stick, plus the steering wheel. Although which pedals did what was a bit hazy. But putting that aside, if a key was available for the Mini, or another car, then she could figure the pedals out by trial and error. At last, she felt she had a plan to find a way out of Bamber Bridge.
The afternoon had arrived when Jenny woke up. She couldn’t believe she’d drifted off to sleep but guessed her body became relaxed due to it finally having some warmth from the duvet. Inspecting the window she saw a street clear of zombies. If there were any stragglers out there, then they were out of her line of sight.
Unwrapping herself, and standing up, Jenny felt the pain from the abuse her body had taken the day before. Going into the kitchen, she made a snack of the leftover crackers, spreading them with strawberry jam. With one more drink from the lemonade bottle, she packed what she could into the remaining space in the rucksack. Not forgetting to take a few pieces of cutlery and the can opener. She thought of Jack again while stowing the utensil away.
Jenny wore a new coat, thanks to the lady who owned the house. It was of much better quality than her old one, with thick warm fleece on the inside layer. A removable gilet of quilted padding made up the second layer and then there was a separate waterproof outer. She was ready to go back into the cold.
CHAPTER THREE
The corpses were gone and the mess from the dragged zombies smeared the tarmac for some distance, having been trampled by those who followed. Jenny stepped out and regarded her pile of supplies accumulated by the door. If the car was a viable option, then she would take more things with her, including the duvet and two pillows.
With no door key to the house, she left the Chub lock disengaged as she closed the door and scouted the immediate area. Satisfied it was safe to proceed with her plan, Jenny walked across the front gardens towards the Mini. The door to the next property was closed, but she could see the front door to the car owner’s house stood open. She went to it. The door was before the living room window. Going to the latter, Jenny attempt to peer in, unfortunately, drawn curtains thwarted the view.
She retreated to the door. Like the other house, the hall showed no sign of disruption, apart from the wet entrance carpet and an odour. The passageway was plain with nothing decorative interrupting its flow. Jenny took another look at the road then checked the car for keys. No luck.
Once again, back at the wide open front door, she could smell something rotting. The place had the same layout as the last one, and both the kitchen and living room doors were open. Jenny put her hand up to cover her mouth and nose before peeking into the first room.
The bloated and decaying body of a man lay in the middle of the trashed room. Jenny’s stomach protested at the sight and smell. Holding the hammer up, she crossed the distance to him and was fairly certain he was one hundred percent dead. Blood and body fluids spread out from his underside and stained the grey carpet. As far as she could tell, he had no bites, so she presumed he died before any infected got to him. That seemed to be the way it worked. If you were alive when you got bitten, you turned, but the already deceased stayed dead.
Jenny kicked the corpse’s foot with the toe of her boot. He didn’t move. It was hard to say what his age might have been, but he had a full head of dark hair and his clothing seemed fashionable, consisting of jeans, a short sleeve shirt, and designer trainers. Tribal tattoos inked one arm.
Moving on, she examined the room. The large flat screen TV lay smashed on the floor, along with scattered cushions. A mirror on the wall was cracked and artwork hung at odd angles from their fixings. One section of an interchangeable sofa corner unit was upturned.
Scanning the room, Jenny couldn’t see any keys. She really, really hoped they weren’t in the corpse’s pockets. Unfortunately, she had to check. Kicking his foot once again, and getting no response, she gagged when patting down his trousers and found nothing. Next, she examined his hands. Empty. His shirt seemed unlikely to have pockets, and she found herself reluctant to turn him over. If no keys turned up elsewhere in the house, then she would return to attempt the gruesome task.
Closing the living room door, she listened and concluded all was okay for the moment. The wrecked kitchen had numerous items strewn on the floor. The back door stood open. Blood and gore-streaked the counter-tops and a stained carving knife sat on the kitchen table. She didn’t think the blood in this room belonged to the man, as there were no blood drops between the rooms. Going to the doorstep, Jenny quickly scanned the small garden and then closed the door.
Jenny looked at the walls, searching for a key holder hanging up. Not seeing one, she looked through all the stuff scattered on the floor. Eureka! A leather keyring with a smiley face embossed on it held four keys and an alarm fob. One of which Jenny believed belonged to the car. Having found her prize, doubt settled in. What if the alarm had gone off and run the battery dead, or the tank is empty? What if she set off the alarm! And more depressingly, what if she couldn’t figure out how to drive and made so much noise trying, that the zombies came back? Shaking herself out of the stupor, she realised that doubt did her no good. She had a journey to make and needed to do it as quickly as possible. The Mini gave her the best chance, which meant she must try.
Her next choice dealt with whether to load the car before trying to start it. The noise of the engine might attract attention. In that event, she’d rather be ready to go, so gathered up her supplies and dumped them on the back seat of the Mini. Now she hoped she wouldn’t lose them if she had to exit the car quickly. Pushing the thought aside and with the neighbourhood quiet, Jenny re-entered the car owner’s house and looked for anything else that might come in handy.
Finding more canned food and three two-litre bottles of spring water, Jenny dumped them in a couple of carrier bags. She discovered another torch and some tea-light candles. With her haul from the downstairs part of the house complete, Jenny decided she had no desire to explore the upper level. However, back in the kitchen she noticed an empty cat bowl and had found pet food in one cupboard. There was no sign of the pet, but Jenny opened a can of food and filled the bowl. She added water to another dish, then store open a bag of dried food and scattered it all on the floor. There was a cat-flap in the back door and she would close the front door once outside.
So it was make or break time. She returned to the car and dumped her new haul in with the rest. Now for the m
oment of truth. With one more glance around, Jenny positioned herself in the driver’s seat and inserted the key into the ignition. Her hands shook as she slipped on the seatbelt and viewed the car’s controls. She remembered the vehicle should be in neutral gear before starting. After a few minutes of pushing pedals and trying to move the gear-stick, it slotted into the right groove. She now knew which pedal to press for gear changes.
Taking a large breath and letting it out slowly, Jenny turned the key. She got a fright when the engine burst to life and almost panicked at the sound of the noise. Quickly looking around, she couldn’t see anything moving. Not wanting to waste time, Jenny fought the gear-stick to the reverse position and pushed down on one of the other pedals. The car didn’t move. She tried again with the only remaining pedal. This time the car strained, but still didn’t move. For a few moments, she became frustrated, not knowing why the car was stuck. Then realised she had forgotten about the handbrake. She lowered it and pressed the last pedal again. This time, the car shot backwards at speed. Jenny yelped and stood on the second pedal she’d tried. She jarred forward and then back again as the brakes engaged. Ok, she thought, I have to be a bit more gentle with the pressure I put on this little lady.